Page 27 of Bloody Savage God
When my mind rouses the next time, I hear someone walking down stairs. My head is still pounding, probably from whatever drug they gave me, or maybe from a beating, but I manage not to make a noise this time, feigning sleep as best as I can.
Listening to the footfalls, the memory of what happened comes back to me.
Gianna Bruno.
She drugged me.
The realization makes my cock twitch, which is about the most fucked up thing my body has ever done, and yet I can’t help admire Gianna’s guts. My father, on the other hand, is going to have a fit if he hears I let a woman distract me enough to get the better of me, and that is definitely what happened.
Damn it.
Now, instead of arranging another get-together with Gianna in Club Steele, I need to get out of this mess, preferably without her realizing that she already knows me. Fucking around with her anonymously is one thing. Her realizing who I am and that I’d gladly take any beating she’s about to dish out is another.
I’d be a dead man in less than a day, because there is no way I’d ever allow her to blackmail me.
There are things the Bratva is cool with, and then there are grounds for dying quickly. Sexual perversion is cool if you’re some low-life rapist, but try living out a pain kink with a sadistic goddess. Few men have enough balls to realize that taking what a woman can dish out takes more guts than ninety percent of the killers in our ranks have.
And if that woman is Italian to top it all off? Well, let’s just say that wouldn’t go over all that well.
I can hear Gianna move around, metal clinking against a counter, before she moves closer to me, my body wanting to stiffen in a visceral reaction to being near a predator. Because that is what this woman is.
And it turns me on.
She’s sexy as fuck, but even more dangerous.
Unfortunately, this isn’t Club Steel anymore. This is her turf, and that doesn’t bode well for me.
I’m a killer, but she is a viper and it looks like I stepped right into her nest.
Forcing myself to remain limp, I let my eyes flutter when she slaps me, before letting my head plop back to the side. It’s surprisingly easy to fake being out of it, the drugs still making me feel hazy. It would be easy to give in and drift off to sleep, but I can’t allow that to happen.
Not again.
Buying my little charade, Gianna moves away again, heading back up the stairs, only to return a little while later. I’m so focused on listening to her steps approach and keeping my body slouched that I curse loudly when the icy water splashes over me. It hits my face and upper body full on, but runs down my body to soak my pants as if I’d pissed myself. Except unlike piss, the water is freezing.
“What the fuck?”
Gianna laughs. “Awake at last, I see.”
I scowl at her and am only just able to hold back from commenting on her sadistic preference for cold liquid. Luckily, I can’t quite help myself from taking her in, which is an excellent distraction. She looks seriously pissed off. Her green eyes are sparkling with a passionate hatred that is surprising, but which does nothing to hide her beauty, as much as I’d like to ignore that fact at the moment. She really is a fucking goddess. Her body doesn’t leave anything to be desired. The black clothes she must have changed into while I was knocked out highlight her slim hour-glass shape, which is messing with my head.
She is definitely toned, her abs showing through the tight shirt. I already knew she was very fit, but clearly her physical prowess comes from more than swinging whips. Martial arts, probably. Something that left her with no fear about taking pain in order to accomplish her goals.
And damn, that is sexy, too. She might even enjoy having to wrestle me to the ground before having her way with me. My cock certainly is curious about that possibility.
Then my eyes fall lower, light catching on the silver ring on her left hand. It’s bulky enough I can see it holds the Brunos’ insignia, a simple capital B in a plain circle.
“What’s going on?” I ask, knowing the question won’t put off whatever she has planned for long, but hoping I might at least get some information first. This woman might be the star in my wet dreams, but she’s also a problem at the moment. One I need to solve as soon as possible. And the key question that’s bothering me is whether she knows I’m the guy she messed with at Club Steel.
“You know exactly what’s going on,” she hisses. “You killed my father.”
I’m pretty sure my eyes widen, though I manage to keep my jaw from dropping. Now that, I didn’t see coming. Sure, I’ve done my share of killing, but I certainly didn’t kill Leonardo Bruno. That would have been dumb as fuck, ending a less than tenuous peace and earning me the rage of not only the Bruno syndicate but also the displeasure of Ricardo Angelo, head of the other Italian family operating in the GTA. Not to mention my father, who would have given me hell as well.
“And what makes you think that?” I ask, fairly certain that the pissed off daughter of a newly offed corpse won’t accept my explanation that I’m not in fact the murderer she’s clearly convinced I am. Still, I need some time to collect my thoughts and asking questions is a good way to earn that time.
“Are you denying it?” she snarls, confirming my suspicion that she won’t easily be persuaded of the opposite. The anger she is now emanating and my confusion at her accusation are cooling the sexual haze her nearness had me in before, because, come on, those tights are meant to drive men mad.
“Were his eyes cut out?” I ask, curious why she’s suspecting me.
