Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (48 page)

“Really?” I quirked an eyebrow, feeling smooth vodka splash my belly like fire. “Is that all it takes to be an Ivankov's woman?”

“Yeah,” he growled, pulling up the sheet and slipping into bed next to me. “That and keeping up with me.”

He was hard, and ready to take me again. Unbelievable.

We fucked the entire trip across the Atlantic, all the way to European airspace. I'd never been happier. Little did I know there was so much more to come. This was a baptism of lust above the seas. By the time we landed in Moscow, I was purified. I'd had my final reckoning, and now it was time to enjoy my reward for the rest of our days.

It didn't take us long to prep. By the time the plane landed, we were cleaned up, dressed, and ready to face whatever new craziness was waiting for us in this distant land.

R
ussia was a whole different world
. It took some serious wrangling to get this place in the country outside Moscow. My old man's rich cousins looked at me like I was a god, freshly arrived from the new world after leading our name to greatness.

Good thing respect is a powerful thing. The servants spoke with such thick accents it took my ears a couple weeks to get used to it. Shit, those real Russians know how to cook and party too. We spent our first week in the motherland blasted on our asses from vodka and overstuffed with caviar.

Sabrina took to the strange new world better than me. She was reborn, glowing around our manor like a second sun. Long rides on horseback and countless hours fucking through the night didn't exhaust her. She was up the next day with the breakfast tray from our butler, ready for more discoveries.

I thought she was beautiful before. Hell, I always thought that since the first time I saw her between the glass, taunting me, a ticket to butcher the asshole who'd done my kin so many wrongs. Never would've guessed she'd be my ticket to paradise too.

The girl spent most days pecking away at her new laptop. She was writing a whole fucking book, a tell all saga blowing open the rise and fall of crime boss Gioulio Ligiotti. The FBI could eat their bastard hearts out while the public snapped it up, unable to touch her while relations were frosty between Mother Russia and the States.

As it was, the Feds were fucked. Gioulio got dumped underneath a ton of concrete at an old construction site, closer to hell where he belonged. After a couple weeks of questions and agents roaming through every nook and cranny, the heat was off my brothers. We hadn't left a shred of evidence, and soon the boys were gonna get back to expanding business in the big city.

Me? It was a fucking relief to be away from all that.

I took up archery and plotted my next move. Maybe a legit import-export business between Moscow and the EU. If all went well, I'd have shit set up by the time relations started to thaw between East and West. We still had all the money in the world.

Swiss banks. Gotta love 'em. For everything else, there was bribery, which was even easier over here than back home.

It only took me a few weeks to lock down our little world. Like a good Muscovite Prince, I could ride right into town with my girl at my side, a whole army ready to serve us at every disco, bar, and art gallery as soon as I flashed my name.

The business moves would come later. There was just one more move I had to make, something to seal the crazy fucking deal Sabrina and me forged from the moment I pulled her outta the prison and into my brothers' truck.

She was writing when I came home that day.

“Save your shit and close that thing. We need to leave now.”

She spun around as soon as my hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed. The look on my face told her she was in deep shit. It was hard keeping my voice grave as ice – I wanted to fucking laugh when I stared into her frightened eyes.

“Anton? Are we in trouble.”

“You'll find out soon, babe. Come on.”

I grabbed her by the hand, threw her coat on, and we marched out into the winter stillness. The old Russian man I'd hired to play driver rolled up in our limo after five seconds. She relaxed a bit when she saw the car. My girl was smart enough to know we wouldn't be going out in style if we really had to flee.

Still, I kept my cards close, tight to my chest as my own ink. Inside, perched on the leather seats, I handed her a glass of wine. I wanted her warmed up and relaxed for what was coming.

Shit, I needed a tall glass myself. For the first time in forever, I was nervous, and I stood a better chance of tripping all over my damned words sober.

“We're here, sir,” the Russian driver called over the little speaker, about five minutes later.

Sabrina was eyeing me with curiosity and suspicion. I suppressed a smile. She had every fucking right. Ever since we'd landed, I kept trying to one up myself, make every surprise I had for her more special than the last.

“Anton? What is this place?” She must've asked the same question three times after we got out and I guided her onto the path to the old church.

The place was in ruins when I'd found it one day riding by myself. I knew there were ruins on my property, but I didn't think it was a whole honest-to-God church. The Bolshevik fucks had done a number on it almost a century ago.

It took a jumbo sized team to get the job done. Two months of round the clock work to put a new roof on and renovate the place. It cost a couple million, about twice as much as the heavy ring weighing down my pocket. But it was worth every fucking penny. I saw it on her face when the huge doors swung open and we stepped inside.

She knew. Same thing I knew the first time I saw it laying in pieces.

This was the place where we were gonna get married.

It looked like a living museum, all fancy with fresh wooden pews and glassy eyed saints staring down from the walls. The villagers fell to my feet and showered me in thanks for making it whole. It was a fine place to pray or worship, yeah, but that wasn't what I was after.

This was all about us. Her steps slowed as I led her to the altar. She
oohed
and
ahhed
a few times going down the aisle. I almost joined her. Those big glass windows really did something awesome to the light, turning dull winter rays into beautiful gold.

The walls shined like silver, gold, and ruby. Fuck, she was glowing herself when we got to where I wanted, like we were extensions of the glory all around us.

“Babe, stop right here. This is where you get your second surprise.”

“Holy shit! Anton, I –“ she clapped a small hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Cursing like that's the last thing I should be doing here.”

I grinned. “It's fine. The only thing that'd really desecrate this place is refusing what I've got here.” I reached into my pocket.

She started shaking her head, cherry red heat flaming on her cheeks, knowing what was coming. Fuck it. There was no more need to play sly.

I reached for the box in my pocket and popped it open, pushed it into her sweet hands cupped near her bosom. “Marry me. We've been through heaven and hell together, and here we are. You're already mine, babe, whatever the fuck happens from here. Now, let's make it official. Say 'yes' so I can slide that rock on your finger.”

Her eyes almost popped out when she saw the ring. Fine jewelry was nothing new to her, growing up in wealth and splendor like me. I still managed to hit the mark. A few special connections and a million bucks bought more here than anywhere else.

“Anton!” She swooped into my arms, smashed the box between us, planting her lips on mine. “Of course I will.”

Thank God.
The phrase held extra power here. Not just because we were kissing in the middle of this beautiful renovated temple, but because I'd been scared as shit about something breaking down at the last minute, some creep of doubt, some kinda bad luck.

It was meant to be, and it took me a full minute of her hot little lips on mine to realize it always had been.

A few seconds later, I held her, plucked out the ring, and pushed it onto her finger. Perfect fit. Only kind there'd ever be.

We'd gotten our fairy tale ending after a twisted beginning. Sometimes, dreams do come true, and you can build them piece by piece, digging clay from the craziest fucking places.

“Bastard,” she hissed in my ear, hot and salacious. “You scared me. You were planning this all along.”

She laughed, and I shot her a serious look. “Shit, babe. We've christened this place with enough dirty talk for one day. Save some for the big day.”

Another laugh. She gave my bicep a playful whack. I grabbed her, threw her over my shoulder, and led her to the back door carved in the nicely concealed wood behind the altar.

It was just a little passage I'd had built special for the church. Past that door, the right fork led to the priest's office, but we took the left.

“I'm not done with the surprises, babe.” I set her down next to the new door, working at the lock with a key from my pocket.

Soon as it opened and she got a good look, she laughed and flapped her hair even harder than when I'd given her that ring. Fuck me. And here I thought those million dollar diamonds would be the greatest surprise.

“I can't believe you!”

Grinning, I cupped her ass and nudged her inside. She didn't need much help – she was drawn right into the small silver bedroom decked out with a red leather fold-down bed.

“Don't worry. This priest said it's kosher as long as there's a hallway and a seal between this place and the church. Besides, where else did you think I was gonna fuck you? Out in the snow? You know my dick's not gonna wait 'til we get back to the house. Not after hearing you're gonna be my wife.”

My wife – fuck!
I couldn't believe it.
Better fuck her long and hard to make it sink in.

Just thinking it made me harder than the diamond and gold on her finger. It was all she was wearing a minute later when I laid her down and sank inside her.

We fucked. We kissed. We came together.

I was still growling her name like a holy mantra when my balls were milked dry, lost in this sweet slice of heaven we'd created. And I'd stay lost in its wonder 'til the day I died.

W
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