Page 5 of Taken By the Outlaw

I take a long swallow of whiskey, letting it burn down my throat. "Go count the take. I'll deal with this."

Mick hesitates but knows better than to push further. He retreats to the back office with the others, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The image of Emilia standing in that alley flashes through my mind. The moment I turned and saw her—wide-eyed, clutching her bag of books, looking so fucking out of place in our world of violence and stolen goods. Any other witness would have been handled immediately, permanently. But something stopped me. Something in those frightened eyes that reached inside me and grabbed hold of something I thought was long dead.

I drain my glass and pour another. Then, almost against my will, I find myself walking back down the hallway to her room.

There's a small viewing panel in the door. I slide it open silently and look in.

She's sitting on the edge of the bed, back straight, hands clasped in her lap like a schoolgirl at prayer. Her face is turned slightly away, toward the barred window where a slice of moonlight falls across the floor. A tear tracks silently down her cheek, but she wipes it away quickly, almost angrily.

Something twists in my chest.

She stands suddenly, moving to explore her prison. The moonlight catches her figure as she passes through it, illuminating the curves hidden beneath that oversized cardigan. She's small but perfectly proportioned—subtle breasts, narrow waist, the gentle flare of hips. My hands itch to trace those curves, to peel away the layers hiding her from me.

She starts removing books from her bag, lining them up on the small table beside the bed. Even in captivity, she creates order. I watch as she gently touches each spine, as if drawing comfort from their familiar presence.

Has anyone ever touched her with that kind of reverence?

The thought hits me like a physical blow, followed by a wave of possessiveness so strong it nearly staggers me. I want to be the first. Theonly. I want to see those careful librarian's hands on my skin, want to watch her face as she discovers pleasure for the first time.

Because she is untouched—I'd bet my life on it. Everything about her screams innocence, from the modest clothes to the careful way she holds herself, like someone who's never been roughly handled, never been claimed.

I want to claim her.

The realization should disturb me. Instead, it settles into my bones with the weight of certainty. She was meant to witness our heist tonight. Meant to be brought here. Meant to bemine.

She removes her cardigan, draping it carefully over the back of the chair. The t-shirt beneath is simple, worn thin with washing, clinging to the curves I'm already obsessed with. She reaches up to gather her hair, tying it in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, exposing the delicate line of her throat.

I'm hard instantly, painfully, my cock straining against my jeans at the mere sight of that vulnerable expanse of skin. I imagine pressing my lips there, feeling her pulse against my tongue. Marking her.

My hand tightens on the door handle, nearly jerking it open before I catch myself.No. Not yet.I need to think this through, need to plan. A woman like Emilia isn't taken. She's seduced, convinced, won over. She needs to come to me willingly.

The idea of her submitting—not out of fear but out of desire—makes my blood run hot. I'd have her eager, wet, begging. Those intelligent eyes glazed with want, that proper mouth forming my name as she comes apart beneath me.

One night. That's all I need to get her out of my system. One night to possess her completely, and then I can figure out what to do with her after. Let her go, maybe, once I'm sure she won't run to the cops. Once I've satisfied this unexpected hunger.

She sits back on the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest, making herself small.Vulnerable.The sight triggers every predatory instinct I possess.

And it makes my chest ache unfamiliarly.

No. One night won't be enough. Not with her.

I close the viewing panel quietly, resting my forehead against the door for a moment. I've built my reputation, my entire empire, on control. On making calculated decisions. On never letting emotion interfere with business.

Yet here I am, risking everything for a librarian with frightened eyes and a spine of steel. A woman who should mean nothing to me beyond the threat she poses.

I push away from the door, stalking back to the main room. I need distance. Need to think clearly.

But as I pour another whiskey, all I can see is Emilia's face. All I can think about is how she'll look when I finally claim her. How she'll feel beneath me, around me. How she'll sound when she breaks.

I knock back the drink, embracing the burn. Tomorrow, I'll deal with the gang, with the diamonds, with all the practical implications of what we've done tonight.

But Emilia...Emilia is mine now. And I'm keeping her.

three

Emilia

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