Page 90 of Where Sinners Repent

With a hand on her lower back, I lead her closer to the man hanging by chains.

“Fucking bitch,” he spits. “Isaac is going to fucking gut you for this.”

Instead of the fear that I’m expecting to see on her face, her eyes narrow. She spins the bat in her hand, as if she’s done it a thousand times.

“He may,” she starts, a small grin curving on her lips. “But from what I know about this psycho over here,” she points the bat in my direction, “you’re about to face a much worse ending.”

His eyes flare, turning to me. I pay him no attention.

“Not quite, Black Cat,” I murmur. A line forms between her brows as she looks over at me. “You’re going to deliver that worse ending.”

The way her mouth pops open, forming a perfect O, makes me want to smile. Makes me want to fist my cock and shove it in that sweet little hole. I force my lips into a straight line.

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

In the dark space, our eyes lock. I watch the emotions play out on her pretty face like a slideshow. Shock. Indecisiveness. Doubt. But then I see something much more interesting. Hunger. Hunger for the revenge that she deserves.

“But I don’t know how...” she glances back at Harrison.

Lie.

I saw the face of the man she beat to a pulp. When Kai told me about it, my blood ran south and my balls grew heavy. Watching it in person would be a wet fucking dream.

“I’ll show you.”

This time I grin. If there is anything I’m good at, it’s killing people. Using all different techniques and weapons. At this point, I consider it an art.

But tonight, tonight is about teaching her ways to avoid what just happened.

I pull her back against my chest and wrap my arms around her, gripping the bat between our hands. If we weren’t all deranged murderers, this would be kind of cute. Like I’m teaching her to play pool or some shit.

“Roxanne, I swear to fuck. Let me go,” Harrison snarls.

But we aren’t playing pool. I can’t wait until she beats the arrogance out of him, and he starts begging. It will be a mission not to come in my pants like a damn teenager at the sight of it.

“Look at him, Black Cat,” I whisper in her ear.

She shivers as if I’m whispering sweet nothings, not murder instructions. God, she’s just as fucked as we are.

The tiny scars on her wrists flash into my mind.

Just like us.

Ours.

The thought makes me tense, and I push it far away. This is no place for these kinds of thoughts.

She steels herself in my grip, lifting her chin to glare at the piece of shit.

I grin against her neck. “Good girl. Now, if he approached you, where would you hit him?”

She inhales deeply before answering. “In the fucking dick.”

God, this woman.

“That’s one place. Another could be his skull, but you know that already, don’t you?”