Page 56 of Wild Angel

“For fuck’s sake, get over yourself already,” she mutters, looking away for a second. When she locks eyes with me again, there’s a grudging admiration in her eyes.

Or maybe that’s just the coke. I should have taken her to the bathroom, but I knew what would have happened if I did. The slightest rush of adrenaline, and I start getting horny as fuck.

“How did you know Patrick would cave? That he even gives a shit about my sisters?”

“Because I saw how he looks at you.” I drop my voice to a low growl. “HowLiamlooked at you.”

Her throat moves as she swallows. “He’s had a crush on me since we met, okay? But I’ve told him plenty of times I’m not interested.”

I hadn’t expected her to admit any of this to me. But it could be a lie. For all I know, they were fuck buddies.

Liam was definitely the more upset of the two Brennans when I fingered her in front of them.

I slide the muzzle of the gun down her belly. “I don’t give a fuck about you and the Scot,” I say.

“He’s Irish—” she cuts off hurriedly, her jaw bunching as I press the muzzle of the gun against her clit.

“Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.”

“People are watching, Savage.”

I cock my head a little.

“Oh, right,” she laughs bitterly. “You don’t give a fuck.”

“Now you’re getting it.”

“For a guy who doesn’t give a fuck, you were pretty adamant I shouldn’t have worn this dress.”

I dip the gun down and use it to lift the front of her dress. It’s dark here—the only illumination comes from a random laser that happens to shine our way every few seconds, but my body is blocking most of that light.

“It wasn’t the dress.” I slip the gun in under the fabric and glide it over her pussy. “It’s your blatant disrespect for me.”

She laughs, but the sound cuts off when I twist my hand and shove the first inch of the gun up her cunt.

“Savage.” Her voice is soft, husky. Her eyes fix on me, wide and insistent.

But still no fear.

I grab her chin, force her head back hard against the wall. I want to kiss her so badly I can already feel her lips against mine.

But I don’t dare.

Not out here.

As it is, I should be taking her to the car. Driving her to the villa. Locking her in her room and throwing away the fucking key.

So why the fuck do I have my Beretta up her pussy?

I yank it out, and she lets out a soft breath. “Why did you wait until now?” Her eyes search mine. “You could have spoken to him a week ago.”

“I had to be sure this wasn’t the Bogota.” Why the fuck am I telling her this? It doesn’t matter what my motivations are, what I intend to do. She should be on her knees, sucking me off to show just how fucking grateful she is that I’m even thinking about helping her.

But that’s not the case, is it?

It makes no sense that someone took her sisters. Even Donny.

It was whoever hired him. They needed the collateral. But against who?

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