Page 119 of SINS & Riley
Not that he needs protecting. Hell, he’s made it painfully clear he doesn’t need anything from me.
But if Enzo kills Zver?
The thought rips through me, sharp and merciless, leaving my chest aching like an open wound. I don’t think I’d survive it.
And if Zver kills Enzo, Kennedy would never forgive me.
I swallow hard. What to do, what to do…
So I do something really, really stupid.
It’s on the tip of my tongue. That his brother Dante is the father of this baby.
But what comes out instead?
“The father? It’s… Zver.”
And that’s when all hell breaks loose.
36
ZVER
Sometimes people surprise you.
Not today.
Declan shows up exactly how I pictured him—pathetic, sloppy, reeking of whiskey and so many bad decisions, I'm surprised his own family doesn't take him out.
Not that they haven't tried.
And what the hell is with the revolver? Who the fuck would use one? What is this, the Wild West?
He tosses a pair of cuffs at my boots. Metal clatters loud against the tar. “Put ’em on.”
I bark out a laugh. “I don’t think so.”
He staggers off the ledge as one of his men rushes to steady him like a drunk uncle at a wedding.
It’s not hard to do the math.
His second guy is dead.
The third—the one I clocked in the throat—is on the ground, playing possum like a pussy.
A smart pussy.
But my focus stays on Declan and his boy wonder. Declan raises the revolver, barrel lined up with my chest. “I said put them on.”
I lift a hand in mock surrender, slow and easy. “Okay, okay. Relax, big guy. I’ll put them on.”
Instead, I boot the cuffs clean over the ledge. The metal clangs against a fire escape, then rattles its way down story after story until it disappears into the night.
The look on his face—the rage, desperation, and flat-out disbelief—is fucking priceless.
“Whoops,” I say, deadpan.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” Declan snarls, waving that stupid revolver like a drunk conductor.
