Page 3 of Sin and Redemption

“What an unexpected guest! What an unexpected guest,” he drawled with a heavy Russian accent, sounding twice as stupid as he was, which was a feat, considering how big of an idiot he was. It didn’t make him less dangerous. He made up for his lack of intelligence with ruthless brutality, which had cost his men their lives on more than one occasion. He was one of the most important soldiers of the Bratva in our territory. When the Pakhan was away yachting somewhere in Europe, these idiots tried to hold down the fort. Jabba had caused us more than one headache in the past.

Because of that, he was very high on our kill list, and heknew. He might have ended up on my torture table one day like his cousin and uncle had only a couple of weeks ago. Now, things didn’t look too good for me—and Sara. Revenge could be the motive, and Sara got caught in the crossfire. I didn’t dare look her way. I didn’t want Jabba’s attention on her. Of course, his ugly bulging eyes zoomed in on her right away.

It was hard not to look at her. Even if she seemed unaware of her own beauty, it was a beacon in these bleak surroundings.

“And look at you,” he said, then let out a whistle and gave her a dirty smile. “This wasn’t the plan, but I think I can make it work.” He nodded, making his double chin wobble. “I can make it work.”

He stopped an arm’s length from the bars.

My muscles tensed in anticipation. “Scared to get too close?” I taunted.

He cackled but didn’t let me bait him into coming any closer. He was stupid, but not that stupid. “Not today, devil.” He smirked. “Not today, devil.”

“For fuck’s sake, stop repeating everything you say, Jabba.” I just wanted to shut him up for good, preferably with his cut-off tongue. Anger flashed in his eyes.

“What’s your name, poppet?”

Sara’s face was paper-white, and her hands shook, but she held her head high and tried to appear unfazed—without success. Fuck, she looked like something straight out of Jabba’s wet dreams: white wool tights, plum-colored tartan skirt, and a white blouse. Even though I wasn’t into the schoolgirl fantasy, Sara ticked all my boxes. “Sara Cancio.”

I cringed inwardly. Cancio was a name the Russians knew. Romero had loyally supported Luca’s quest to kill them for decades, long before wars with bikers and the Outfit had taken up our resources.

“Yes, yes,” he said. His gaze traveled the length of her, and my muscles clenched in wariness. Fuck. This could be really bad. I had to figure out how to get Sara out of this.

“You’re a real doll. A real—” He stopped himself from repeating the word with a glance in my direction. I smirked at him. If I turned his anger on me, Sara might be spared until help arrived. I could only pray that I’d sent a call for help before we got caught, but I still couldn’t remember a fucking thing. Jabba tilted his head like a fat bulldog and clucked his tongue as he leered at Sara.

She took a step back.

“I would love to sink my cock into her Italian pussy,” the man beside Jabba said. He was tall and made of sinewy muscle that made me believe he had a background in kickboxing or another combat sport, making him more of a threat than Jabba.

“You’d be dead before you could even get your small dick out,” I growled, stepping in front of Sara. They would have to come in to grab her. That might give me a chance to attack.

“You two aren’t promised, are you?” Jabba muttered.

“No, we’re not,” Sara said firmly. Her decision to answer so quickly—as if the possibility of being promised to me was unbearable—rubbed me the wrong way. I knew some people in the Famiglia still regarded my family as less worthy because of my father’s family history, but Sara’s father, Romero, had never seemed like he was one of them.

Jabba tilted his head in thought.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too much,” I said with a chuckle.

Jabba’s lips pulled into a grin. “I really like young pussy. But I’m also a businessman. I know you Italians think you’re more clever than us Russians.”

“Definitelymore cleverthan you,” I taunted. I’d met many very intelligent Bratva soldiers in the past. Under the current Pakhan, intelligence just wasn’t a priority anymore.

Sara gave me a worried look. She obviously thought my provocation would make our situation worse. She didn’t know these guys. They wouldn’t show us mercy. All I could do at this point was to provoke them into stupid actions that might give me an opening to kill them and allow Sara the chance to escape. Or, at the very least, bode enough time for her. If they started torturing me and ignored her for the time being, that could be enough to spare her a lot of pain and humiliation. Just the thought of Jabba or one of his men touching Sara made me sick.

Jabba simply smiled stupidly. “Luca isn’t the unquestioned king over his empire like he used to be. Some don’t like that he’s gotten himself in a war with us, the bikers, the Camorra, and the Outfit. Lots of enemies to have.”

“Luca has loyal men who’ll die for him.”

“I think I’ll be patient today,” Jabba said. “I don’t care for virgins, you know? All the squealing and whining grates on my nerves, you know? And I have a new wife. I can’t fuck around so soon.”

My stomach tightened.

Sara looked even paler than before. She was clever. She knew this was heading in a very, very dangerous direction. Fuck. How could I save her?

“Luca puts a lot of trust in you Trevisan men. And your dad is one of Luca’s most loyal followers,” he said the last with a nasty look at Sara. “Sow discord, that’s what wise men do. It destroys from the inside.”

I had no clue what the fuck he was talking about. From the empty expression on his men’s faces, neither did they. If they followed Jabba’s command, they weren’t the brightest candles on the cake.

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