Page 19 of Corrupted Sinner

I shrugged. “He fucked up; it pissed me off. End of story.SignorLuciano wanted me to oversee the run, so that’s what I’m doing.”

In truth, I couldn’t believeSignorLuciano had wanted me overseeing this. I was kind of low on the Luciano family totem pole—not that I minded. It freed me up to do the stuff that mattered to me, like the crazy rescue shit I did with Gabe… and now Deo.

“We’re all set here,SignorAgossi,” Paolo said, slamming the back of the van shut. He was a wiry, enthusiastic guy, about my age, and son of one ofSignorLuciano’s many cousins.

“Grazie, Paolo,” Vito said, then headed for the passenger side of the van. “We’ll meet you over there, Greta,” he said, eyeing my bike like maybe it had personally offended him.

“It’s safe, Vito,” I reassured him, which was hilarious. A motorcycle was downright sedate in comparison to skulking through grass, spying on warehouses filled with dissolved bodies.

He rolled his eyes and got into the van while I swung my leg over the side of my Harley-Davidson Dyna Street Bob. God, it was pretty. I threw on my helmet, kicked up the kickstand, and revved the engine.

The bike roared, sending a thrill down my spine, just like it always did.

When the van pulled out, I maneuvered around it, getting in front of it and leading the way off the docks for the long haul across the city to the old warehouse where I’d found Brute beating the shit out of some guy the other day. I didn’t particularly care about being in the lead, but I’d seen Paolo drive. Pretty sure there were old guys with little Honda Civics who drove faster than him.

The streets flew by beneath my feet. By the time I pulled into the warehouse’s gravel lot, I wasn’t feeling all that pissed off at Brute anymore. Driving had that effect. Lucky for him, I supposed.

At least, until I saw him. Then the hormones and anger kicked in with equal fervor. Still kind of wanted to fuck him and claw him at the same time.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here, darling,” he said, sauntering away from the group of Old Dogs in front of the warehouse.

I flipped down the kickstand and got off the bike, and just because I could, I pulled off my helmet and did that slow-motion hair shake-down that seemed to drive guys wild.

Then I hooked the helmet on the bike and shrugged. “I thought I’d come along for the ride.”

Brute looked okay with that. I wasn’t sure about the rest of his crew. They were looking at me like they couldn’t decide if they wanted to fuck me or dissect me. Apparently, a girl with a motorcycle was a little foreign here.

“You ride?” one of the guys called out, eyeing me skeptically. An older guy. I think his name was Mike.

“No, but how hard can it be?” I said without missing a beat, making my eyes wide and sincere.

Brute scrubbed a hand over his mouth, which did a lousy job of hiding the smile I could see dancing in his blue eyes.

A few of the members looked back and forth between themselves like they were at a loss for words.

Jeez, they just watched me pull in here. Of course, I can ride.

Brute looked back at his crew and laughed. “She’s fucking with you, assholes.”

A few of them nodded. A few of them still looked skeptical.

“You sure you can keep up, sweetheart?” a man with copper-colored hair asked. The smile on his face said he was just getting off on fucking with me right back.

I shrugged. “It’ll be tough,sweetheart,but I’ll try not to let my vagina slow me down.”

Before copper-head or any of the others could reply, Paolo finally pulled into the lot. He turned around in the parking lot and backed the van up to the warehouse’s door.

Brute came up to me, shaking his head slowly, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Is there anything you can’t do, darling?”

The lazy drawl threatened to tip the scales in favor of the hormones, but I forced the scales back until they hung even, then looked back at him, straight-faced.

“Not that I’ve come across yet, but I’ll keep you posted.”

I crossed the lot then, heading forZiettoVito. He walked to the back of the van and watched over the transfer as Paolo handed off the crates of guns to the Old Dogs, who then loaded them up into the back of a delivery truck inside the warehouse.

While it looked like an ordinary truck, when they were finished loading up the guns, two of the guys wearing “Prospect” patches heaved a giant sheet of metal onto the truck. When they drilled it into place, it hid the guns behind a faux wall that looked pretty damned authentic. Nice.

And that was it. Paolo shut the back door of the van, waved to me, and got back behind the wheel.

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