offered me something more comfortable. Release me and maybe I’ll help you get the information you want from him.”
“You?” I chuckle. “Bollocks. I highly doubt you know how to extract information from an enemy. Nice try, darling. I’ll give you props on your ingenuity.”
“You pompous asshole. I swear to all things holy, Maximillian Macintosh, if you don’t let me off this chair, I won’t ever marry you. Explain your runaway bride to your buddy Joker. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”
I chuckle to myself and trail around behind her chair. “You stubborn, provocative woman,” I comment, as she drives me bonkers inside. I lean down until my breath brushes her earlobe. Lowly, I threaten, “I’m warning you right this moment, if you try anything at all, the chaps outside this room will kill you straight away. Don’t test me, my darling, it only makes me moody, and I promise you won’t fancy that bit from me.”
A laugh bursts from her. It comes out sounding a bit deranged, if I’m being honest about it, and the fucked-up part is I want to hear it again. She mutters through her snickering, “You, moody? I find that hard to believe, Brit boy. Surely, you don’t brood around as if your puppy was kicked and you want to bury someone for it. I find that so hard to believe.” She’s being sarcastic, the brat.
“And stop calling me that ridiculous name.” I free her wrists so she can untie her feet as the tosser beside us sobs.
I glance over to him, his face red and tear-stained. “Oh pull yourself together, you weak prick. Nobody enjoys a snot-nosed arsehole. It really didn’t have to come to this. You could’ve given my crew a location and they’d have just shot you then and there. You’re the stubborn bloke that attempted to be a savior.”
Ismerlda gets to her feet, tucking her wild dark locks behind her ears, and glowers at me. I can’t help but smile. The Italian beauty is positively ravishing when she’s furious.
“Untwist your knickers. You’re free now.”
She reaches for my gun, and I yank it out of her reach. “Let me have it,” she demands.
“You’ve lost your bloody mind, woman. I’m not dying today, thank you very much.”
“If you want him to give up the location, you’ll give me the gun.”
“Like hell I will. You’ll shoot my arse then do who knows what else with it.”
“Surely, you must trust me, even a teensy, tiny bit if you’re planning to marry me. We sleep in the same bed.” She needn’t remind me. I’m well aware of the fact twenty-four hours a day. Yet we still haven’t fucked—not even a good finger fuck.
I shrug, neither denying nor agreeing. Her hair is off in every direction and the sweat dotting her brow has nearly every rational thought escaping my mind at the moment. She’s always so cool, calm, and put together, minus when I’m provoking her. In fact, she reminds me a bit of myself. Now, however, she’s frazzled, and it’s beyond enticing on her.
“I’m not going to shoot you, Max. I need you to get me out of this dump, remember? Besides, I thought you were some big, bad gangster who’s not intimidated by me. Is that not the case after all?”
“I’m not,” I automatically rebuff and foolishly hand the Glock over. I’m a bloody idiot.
Immediately, she raises the weapon, pointing it at Roberto and fires. My body flies forward, gripping her wrist in my hand while I figure out if she killed the tosser. “Hey!” she calls as I stare over at the mess she’s made. A piece of ol’ Robbie’s arm is missing. I wasn’t expecting that to happen. Ismerlda shot his forearm, and instead of the bullet passing through, it took some meat with the wide shot.
“Damn, that looks like it bloody fucking hurts,” I acknowledge to our prisoner.
She casts me an exasperated glare, but I pay no mind to her attitude. She plucks the gag from Roberto’s mouth, staring him down. She demands, “Tell me the location of your captain.”
“Cazzo! No! Please,” he bellows in agony.
My brows raise. I skirt my gaze back to my little gunslinger, silently mocking. I thought she was going to get him to talk. So much for that. She shakes my hand off her wrist and, without hesitation, fires off another round. Shockingly, the second hits the wanker as well. My fiancée has had some training it appears. I’m slightly impressed, though I won’t mention it to her.
“Bloody hell,