Page 77 of Sinful Sacrifice

“I’m kicking Emilio’s ass,” I spit out, digging my thumb into the space between my brows.

“I ordered him not to tell you.”

I’m pissed, but at the end of the day, Antonio is right. There’s satisfaction in knowing she blew him off and told me who he was today. She could’ve hidden it all from me. But I’m still pissed at being left in the dark about it with Antonio.

“Wait,” Pippa starts, stepping closer to us. “Are you telling me?—”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Antonio says impatiently and storms out of the pool house.

“Let me wrap my head around this,” Pippa says, fully focused on the situation while rubbing her temples. “At first, I thought you left to go kill Brock or whatever it is you guys do.” Her voice teeters toward rambling. “Kill, hack up, poison?—”

I hold up my hand. “Pippa, please don’t start listing off ways people can murder others.”

“Do you murder others?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” I flick my hand through the air. “Moving on.”

“Don’t speak to me like that.”

“Don’t ask me stupid questions, and I won’t.”

Her face burns, and I know I’m pissing her off.

But sometimes, I love a pissed-off Pippa.

It’s hot as hell.

She storms toward me, hands on hips, attitude on one hundred.

So hot.

So sexy.

She slaps my chest. The pain matches that of a mere pinch.

But it stung her hand. I know from the way she suddenly jerked it back.

“Is Brock even a detective?” she bites out, returning the hand she slapped me with to her waist.

“Yes. We just pay him more than the state does to be a crooked one.”

The Marchettis have most law enforcement on their payroll, but we managed to snag a few with our checkbooks. At first, we had to blackmail Brock. Well, we used his father to blackmail him. A former governor screams scandal. It took us ten minutes to find one subject to blackmail him. An hour later, we had ten.

Since his father was no longer of good use to us, we extorted Brock instead. I’m beginning to think Brock enjoys the perks though.

As long as he doesn’t get too comfortable.

“How very cliché of you,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.

I snatch her elbow, and she releases a huff as I snap her around and pull her toward me. Her back collides with my chest, and I stretch my arm along her collarbone to prevent her from moving.

She trembles as I raise my hand and curl it around her throat. She swallows beneath my palm—once, twice, three times—each one heavier than the last. I give it a gentle squeeze, testing her, before lowering my hand down her body.

“Watch that smart mouth of yours,” I hiss in her ear.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll drag Brock in here, so you can show him how well you suck my dick.”

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