Page 63 of Corrupted Sinner
I brought the Zippo up to his neck and ignited the flame, burning along the outline of the skull he had tattooed there while he screamed and shook. He pulled so hard against the ropes that bound him, I could see blood well up from beneath them.
“Fuck!” he hollered. “Two.El jefesent two more, okay?”
I sighed and closed the zippo. “Well, I can’t say that’s okay with me, but it is what it is.”
I stood up, ready to say farewell to Fred for the time being.
“Wait!” he shouted when I reached the door. “Just fucking kill me,ese,” he seethed. “Get it over with.”
I chuckled. “I don’t think so, Fred. I’m enjoying our conversations too much to do that. And don’t worry; I’ll be back real soon so we can keep talking.”
Fred’s eyes widened even as his jaw clenched so hard, I could see the muscles there ticking from across the room.
I don’t think he was looking forward to our next visit.
Chapter Twenty-One
Greta
It hit me like a sucker punch to the gut.
I stood in the doorway of the Old Dogs’ clubhouse, staring across the big room littered with chairs and tables and old sofas. There was a bar at the back of the room; it looked like it was stocked with a decent liquor supply as well as a good number of handsome looking bikers and more than a few scantily dressed young women. I barely noticed them, though.
All I could see was the biker god sitting in the middle of a worn, tan-colored sofa, his big, muscular arms stretched out across the back of it and a pretty brunette hanging around his neck from behind.
I felt it like another blow when she leaned in closer, whispering something in his ear while he took a drag from his cigarette.
Jealousy? Seriously? Greta Agossi didn’t get jealous. She got laid; she got her kicks wherever she could find them; and she got her ass out the door and didn’t look back come morning.
So, what the hell?
“Is something wrong?” Gabe asked from where he’d stopped next to me.
“Wrong?” I asked, hedging.
He cocked an eyebrow. “You look like you just drank gone-bad milk.”
I scoffed. “And what exactly doesthatlook like?”
“Like that,” he said, pointing at me and grinning goofily.
Brilliant, Greta. Fall for the only guy in the world who might be as crazy—and allergic to commitment—as you. Can you just imagine the batshit crazy babies you’d make together… Whoa, wait. Babies? God, you really are losing your mind. Time to pull it together.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I shrugged for dramatic effect. “I’m just not used to hanging out in biker clubhouses.”
Gabe scanned the room, and the corners of his lips twitched. “Liquor and plenty of men and women ripe for the picking; definitely not your kind of hangout.”
He scrubbed a hand over his mouth, hiding his freaking smile.
“Stronzo,” I muttered under my breath. But he had a point. Thiswasjust my kind of hangout if I was on the prowl. And what better way to get over a guy than to get under another one?
I smiled devilishly as I looked around with fresh eyes. It seemed that a fully dressed girl in a biker clubhouse was an irresistible challenge, if the hungry looks on some of the handsome bikers’ faces were any indicator. Dynamite—a man with copper-colored hair and plenty of muscle, who I presumed had a thing for explosives—was sitting at the bar, looking me over from head to toe. He was a definite possibility.
“Actually, Gabe, I think you might be right,” I said at the same time Brute spotted us and stood up, shrugging off the brunette neckwear. God, he looked good. Did he really have to look so damn good?
Gabe shrugged. “I’m always right,amica.It’s a burden,” he said, donning a pained expression.
“And here I thought I was your burden,” I replied in mock disappointment.