“Okay what?”
“I love you b-back.”
He stood, dizzy with relief, and pulled her to her feet. “I thought you might. The question is, do you want to be with me? Are you willing to put up with the crap a couple people might throw our way?”
“Let them talk. As long as you love me the way I am, none of the rest matters.” She bounced onto her toes and laid her lips on his.
He wrapped his arms around her, reveling in the warmth of her body and the joy he felt at not having to wonder if it would be for the last time. After giving her a hard squeeze, he pulled back to look down at her face.
“And my mother? Can you stand it? Because if not, they have cars and plenty of buildings in California. Then we’re talking Christmases and funerals only.”
“Wait, are we moving in together now?” she demanded, panic stealing over her features.
“Doesn’t have to be right away. We don’t have to talk about it until you’re ready. As long as you’re aware it’s part of my master plan. That and, you know, a ring and babies an—”
She thumped him in the chest with one fist. “Babies?” she screeched. “Stop. Please stop. My brain can’t take it right now.”
“Shh, it’s okay, love. We have all the time in the world. As long as you want that someday, I’m not going anywhere.”
She nodded and curled into him, the tension seeming to seep from her body. “That, I can handle. I don’t want to move away, though. Your mom and I have had a meeting of the minds. Sort of. And I could never leave the garage. It’s the one place I can still feel close to my dad. It’s my whole world. Well, it was. Until you.”
Her words washed over him like a healing rain. “I am so happy to hear you say that.” He tugged her arms from around his neck and stepped back. “So, let’s make it unofficial. Frankie,” he said, his tone solemn as he dropped to one knee with her hand in his. “I want to be your eight-cylinder man. Will you agree to a long-term lease, with an option to buy?”
She tossed her head back and let out an exceptionally bawdy laugh. “Eight cylinders, huh?” She yanked him to his feet. “If you can keep up with me, I’m yours.”
She cupped his face in her hands and tilted her lips to his. “I’m all yours.”
Keep Reading for another steamy Savannah Skye romance, AXE to GRIND. Already read it? Skip forward to read BREAKING COLT!
Axe to Grind
Brenna
I’ve been the property of the Ruffino crime family for so long, I can’t remember the last time I made a decision for myself. The most gorgeous virgin they’d ever bagged, they said. The one that would earn them millions at auction, they said. Now today, on my nineteenth birthday, the highest bidder will get me…and my virginity. I’d rather be dead than spend a lifetime as a man’s plaything, so tonight? It’s kill or be killed.
Axe
The second I laid eyes on her, it was game over. They wanted two million dollars for her, and that was a bargain. I’d have paid ten times that if I had it. Because the thought of another man’s hands on her? Made me want to tear the place apart, brick by brick. But the Capestrana family business relies on me doing my part and making nice with the Ruffinos, who own this angel. Do I want to risk all that…my family, my business, my life, to save her?
F*%k yeah, I do.
Chapter One
Brenna
The smell hit me like a slap.
Cologne.
So much goddamned cologne, it threatened to choke me, coating the back of my throat like thick, perfumed paint.
I closed my eyes and focused on that. Because even that was better than the hungry eyes staring at me, stealing pieces of my soul, bit by bit.
“Our second lovely bachelorette is Rita,” the woman at the podium cooed, her voice smooth and rich. Her name was Gabrielle and I hated her with every cell of my being.
She’d never been anything but cordial to me and the other girls. But that didn’t change the fact that she dealt in peddling flesh. Unwilling flesh, some of the time. She sold women into modern day sexual slavery, and she did it with a smile.
The second I got free…if I ever got free, I was going to stab her straight through the heart.
That little fantasy got me through the next ten minutes as the dozen or so men in the room haggled over Rita, the girl standing in the spotlight, naked, with the long, black hair.
Words were spoken. There were bids, and counter bids, but I barely noticed. I was lost in my own nightmare. I jerked in surprise a few minutes later when Gabrielle finally pounded her gavel.
“Sold!” she cried, the glee in her voice evident.
But me? I felt nothing as Rita, her face a mask of weary indifference, was led away by her new owner.
She’d been in the business for a while and was what the family called a “giver”. Not so much a slave as an indentured servant, she was one of the few who’d signed up for this.
She thought she’d do it for two years.
She thought that, once she made some money she could send back to her family in Serbia, she’d get out of the business altogether and start a new life.
She thought she’d be able to wash it away, like the sweat and fatigue of a long run.
She thought wrong.
But I didn’t care about Rita. After a year of wasting tears on countless girls, I didn’t care about anyone anymore. I couldn’t even work tears up for myself.
“Next up, we have Madison.”
Madison’s real name wasn’t Madison any more than Rita’s had been Rita, but whatever. By that point, none of us really gave a shit what they called us. These men were going to violate us in far worse ways than stealing our names.
“Madison is perfect for the man who likes a woman with experience. She excels at being submissive, taking commands, and is leash-trained. She’s as comfortable sleeping at your feet as she is on the bed.”
I had the inane urge to laugh then, because what the actual fuck? As if anyone could possibly think that was true.
But those guys, they lapped it up, and bids flew fast and furious. A tiny kernel of hope rose inside me that maybe they’d run out of money before they got to me, but I squashed it ruthlessly.
As irredeemable as the disgustingly rich, twisted bastards in this room were, it was hope that was my true enemy.
This was happening and there wasn’t shit I could do to stop it. The sooner I got that through my thick skull, the better.
I’d tried to fight at first. I’d even won a couple times, but I’d reached the end of the line. Tonight, on my birthday, no less, I was the main event. The prize at the bottom of the cereal box. The nineteen year old these men had come to salivate over. And if I spit at them like the last time, or kicked one of them in the balls, like the time before, or stabbed one of them with a pen I’d hidden in my ponytail, like the time before that?
The Ruffinos’ henchman Bruno had already warned me ahead of time, he’d slit my throat on the spot.
Gabrielle motioned me forward and I stepped up dutifully, head down, heart pounding. They could ogle my body, but that didn’t mean I had to watch it.
Then again, maybe looking was better. I’d meet each and every gaze and hold it, just for a few seconds. That way, they’d have to live with it. They’d have to gaze into the windows of my soul for an instant before I ended it all, here and now. On my terms.
Because fuck them.
Axe
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was like Joan of fucking Arc standing up there, shoulders straight, staring into the gallery, screw you written all over her stunning face.
My whole body was tense, ready for something, although I hadn’t figured out what yet.
“Don’t mess this up, son,” my father had growled at me as I was leaving. “Emilio is expecting Colt, so play nice. You represent the Capestranas at this event.”
Event.
A tainted word.
But for gangsters – money was just money, right? Money was king, was God
. No matter how much blood ran across the ground for it. No matter who paid the price, who might be broken…
All for our sins, A-fuckin-men.
Gabrielle, that slick bitch, was ushering the last woman sold over to the winner. The purchased woman, Madison, I was pretty sure she’d said, was beautiful. But her beauty had a faded quality to it, like a flower withered from the sun. Madison’s new “owner” looked inhuman under the floodlights – nothing but a leering gaze, coveting his new prize.
My stomach twisted as I watched. It was like I’d stumbled into some hellish, twisted fantasy of the Devil himself. All around me sat his gluttonous demons in the shadows, shifting in their seats, breathing heavily, and letting their eyes run unchecked across the naked forms paraded in front of them.
Yeah, I’d seen ugly shit go down in my life. Most of it didn’t bother me anymore. Sometimes I wonder if it ever had.
But nothing had ever made me feel as sick as this shit did.
My mind flashed back to earlier today, which felt like days ago now. At the door, my father had kissed me on the side of the head and whispered in my ear, “Don’t buy shit, Axe. You hear me? It’s a show of good faith and camaraderie. Keep your head down if you don’t like what you see. You’re there to make connections and represent the family. We need the Ruffinos to be our allies. Don’t forget.”
That whisper kept crossing my mind.
A show. Good faith. Allies.
Don’t forget.
I wonder what Colt would have done in my place, if things had gone to plan. No Capestrana had ever stepped foot in this crap before – even though we’d been invited many times. The rumors swirling around this event had been too ugly for a man like my father, raised by the noble and powerful Mama Angelina.
But even the good Catholic boy had been tempted by the reams of green flying through Ruffino fingers.
So, Colt, the eldest Capestrana son, was supposed to be here, sitting in this seat. The dutiful son, the heir.
My brother would have been rubbing elbows and making the kind of small talk Emilio Ruffino got off on. Like I’d been sent to do. But of course, Colt was off fixing some shit that went sideways with our cousin, Dante, who couldn’t steer clear of trouble even if he had a compass, a map and a GPS.
I hadn’t wanted to come, but I’d done it, and now Emilio Ruffino hadn’t even had the courtesy to show up tonight. I’d looked for him for a while – but down in the gallery of bastards, it was too dark to even see who was sitting next to you.
I sat straighter and tried to talk myself out of the darkness threatening to pull me under. Why should I give a shit what happened to Joan of Arc? These girls were hookers, right? They wanted money just as much as the gangsters bidding on them wanted ass. Free trade. Capitalism. Supply and demand.
Because America.
But I couldn’t look away from her. No matter how much I didn’t want to, I gave a shit. Something felt off.
Up on stage, Gabrielle had taken a quick break to apply a fresh coat of lipstick. It stood out like a dark circle of blood on her pale face. Then she tapped the mic to get the audience’s attention back.
Silence fell instantly.
“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for…” She paused, breathless, and her eyes gleamed out at us.
In spite of myself, I sat up straighter and my gaze went to Joan of Arc, who was being thrust forward. She almost tripped on the flimsy sheet covering her body, and again I wondered, with a sinking feeling, why she was the only one “dressed”. The girl regained her poise as she took center stage, throwing her shoulders back and holding her head up high.
“Mary,” Gabrielle cooed. “Our barely legal virgin.”
Virgin.
My entire body went cold. Hands shaking with rage, I had to curl them into fists to stop it. Hot acid bubbled up in my stomach, my jaw clenched shut so tightly, I thought I heard a goddamn tooth crack.
Around me, whispers and murmurs were rising in excitement. The slob next to me was mouth-breathing like he’d just run a mile and I wondered with disgust if he was getting himself off under the table.
Mary gazed out at the gallery, awash in radiant fury. She probably couldn’t even see us – that hidden swath of demons lusting over her in the darkness. Yet she chose to stare down into the gallery, a challenge lighting her green eyes.
The golden spotlight engulfed her like a halo. She looked otherworldly, pure as a goddamn angel. But the fire in her gaze was a stark reminder.
Angels were heaven’s warriors. And this one?
Wanted to see us all burn.
Her thick hair was tied up in a ponytail, waving and curling in a heavy mass down her back, like a cascade of black silk. Green-blue eyes, as alluring and unfathomable as the sea, flashed from her face. A face as delicate and beautiful as it was striking. Like a tigress. Untamable.
Looking into her face, it felt as though someone was crushing my heart – splintering the dark walls around it. I couldn’t understand why – surely I had seen worse than this as a Capestrana. Baseball bats to kneecaps. Straight up hits on rival families.
But this girl seemed so young to have such pain and hate in her eyes. It contrasted sharply with the soft curves of her cheek, her elegant line of neck, her un-kissed lips...
I knew it as sure as I knew my own name that Mary wasn’t like the others. If she’d signed up for this, she’d been blackmailed or coerced into it. There’d been rumors of this kind of shit on the street, but to see it in action still sent a jolt of shock through me.
I tried to ignore the fury rising in me and focus only on that face. There was still a hint of hope in there somewhere – not all of her innocence had been stripped away. That alone kept me from flipping the table over to get to her. I needed to think this through, or I could make her situation worse.
Gabrielle was talking again, warming to her sales pitch now.
“Mary has never been touched by a man, she’s been preserved. All for this momentous night. All for one of you.”
Mary flicked her eyes sideways at Gabrielle and I saw her full lips twitch into a fleeting snarl. An unfamiliar feeling tore at me, something I’d never felt before.
“While Mary is a virgin, gentlemen, she’s by no means meek. If you like spunk and perhaps a bit of a fight before the big payoff… Mary is your girl. Sweet, sweet nineteen…” Gabrielle’s tongue darted out and licked her garish lips. She left the podium, walking over to Mary, and grasped the flimsy sheet in both hands. “So, let’s all wish our Mary a very, happy birthday, now!”
Then, with a wink, Gabrielle wrenched it away, and Mary was displayed in all her fucking glory.
The girl didn’t even flinch as the room erupted.
“Oooh, man,” the pig next to me moaned.
“I’d teach that virgin somethin’ holy,” another guy said with a raspy laugh.
“Look at her fuckin’ body, man. She’s nineteen? If that isn’t a gift from above…”
In spite of myself, my eyes left her face and traveled down her body. Her skin was a pale, creamy olive. Mouth dry, I took in her curves – the swell of two luscious breasts, a dainty waist, and full, bitable hips. Her stomach was flat, but her thighs were slightly thick – adding to her heavenly shape. There was a neat cluster of dark curls in a perfect V between them.
Fuck.
My pants were getting tight and I winced. If I took part in this ogling, I was as bad as the others. I looked away, full of self-disgust, and tried to clear my head of the mental picture of her that I’d taken without her permission.
Suddenly Gabrielle, who had been distracted by someone climbing on the stage and whispering in her ear, nodded and smiled out at the audience.
“Just so you know, gentlemen, if necessary, we can get her cleaned up if you prefer the floors bare, so to speak. So let’s start the bidding at $250,000. Ah, $250, can I get $255?”
How did you end up here, Mary?
In spite of the hell this girl was in, she didn’t shed a
tear as the bidding continued. No wonder I had thought of Joan of Arc – the look on Mary’s face had to mirror the one that famous martyr wore as she was led to the stake.
A fearless patience for the end – the hungry, lapping flames.
Around the room, the bids were getting more and more outrageous. It was already well into the seven hundred thousand range. My eyes darted around the room, following the bids.
Too much, too fuckin’ many…
For a breathless second, I thought about just doing it – racing up there and grabbing Mary, firing bullets into the skulls of the demon-filled audience. Too bad we’d both be dead before I could even take a step.
I just kept clenching and unclenching my hands with every bid. The thought of one of these horny bastards touching her was fucking killing me. I wanted to tear this place apart with my bare hands, punch the fat fuck next to me, strangle a couple of Ruffinos, let Mama Angelina handle Gabrielle…
Pop’s parting words whispered in my mind again.
Shit.
Yeah. I knew what I was supposed to do. What my father had ordered me to do. Rub elbows, make small talk, and please Emilio Ruffino.
The bids had climbed just shy of one million. Only a real bastard could throw that kind of cash away on what they considered “just ass” and not even blink. Of course, they’d throw that ass away once they’d sated themselves.
Unless of course, they decided to keep her.
A thought that made me even more nauseous.
Someone brushed past my chair at that moment – a tall, spider-like figure stalking towards the stage.
“What’s up, Volkov?” someone hissed.
The man turned, his eyes cold in the glow from the lights. “I need that pussy,” he said with a lewd gesture. With that, he hopped up on stage, and for the first time, Mary flinched. “I will end the bidding, I think. I just wanted a closer look, perhaps a little taste…”
Victor Volkov, the Russian. Of course he was here. He was just the kind of twisted fuck to bid on these girls and use them for his own sick pleasures. My face pulled into a snarl watching him.
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