The Bandit (The Stolen Duet 1)

Give ‘em hell then.

Resigned to fight my own battles, I took as many steps necessary until only an inch separated my nose from Broody’s chest. Convincing fearlessness required I tilt my head enough to kill him with just a look.

Sadly, he didn’t die. He smirked and then amped uphis glare to rival my own.

“It’s true, I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes in my life,but,”I popped my lips for emphasis, “I’m willing to bet nada plus zilch doesn’t equal the same for both of us. So, tell me. How many bullies will it take to screw inyourlight bulb?”

He didn’t answer me, but his lips did the same twitchy thing Angel’s did when he was amused but preferred to hide it. “I see we have our work cut out for us,” he answered. His gaze never left mine, but I had a feeling he wasn’t speaking tome. Angel grunted, confirming my suspicion. Seriously, what was up with these men and their aggressive—albeit panty melting—sounds that really meant nothing?

Broody’s gaze dipped as he rubbed his chin. “I never minded a little hard work, Sprite.”

My body jerked at his use of the nickname Angel christened me with when we were kids. Well…Iwas a kid. He was legally a grown man for most of it, which was also why he’d always been so far out of reach…

I turned to face the culprit.

I didn’t feel his friend’s hot gaze on my body.

It did nothing for me.

Nothing.

“How much did you tell them about me?”

“Everything.” I turned his answer over in my head. He definitely didn’t sound apologetic.

“Don’t you think that was private and unnecessary?” Only he had ever called me that and it was from an easier time that seemed so far away from where we were now.

“Don’t think of it as gossip, little one.” Man Bun had been content to keep silent, but it appeared he had found his voice. Maybe it got lost in those deep dimples… My gaze shifted to him. His perch against the door was to no doubt keep me from getting to the other side. “Think of it as…” His lips stretched. Those damn dimples deepened. “…therapy.”

“How would Angel talking about me be therapy for him?’

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Broody teased.

My shoulders squared, ready to fight again. “Isn’t that why I asked?” He opened his mouth ready to growl some more when Angel stepped in.

“Enough!”

Angel rose from his desk and moved close enough to grip my arm. He pulled me away, and when he stepped between us, I stared at his back in disbelief. My view of his friend’s bare chest was now obstructed, but this view was much better. Until he turned and forced me under the full force of Angel’s glare.

What’s wrong, pumpkin? You seem tense?

His gaze narrowed as if he read my mind. “Give me a name, and I’ll release your son.”

For some reason, I looked at Man Bun for reassurance, but he was an expert at giving nothing away. I turned back to Angel whose attention had never left my face.

“And what about me? We’re a package deal.”

The bastard smirked. “How else do you think I got you here?”

“You son of a—”

“A name, Mian. This deal has an expiration date.”

The name of the pawnshop owner slipped from my lips. I panicked, and now I had condemned an innocent man. It was too easy. Did that make me a monster, too? I had just signed an innocent man’s death certificate. That guilt tripled when a conniving grin spread his lips.

“Thank you, Mian.” He dismissed me as he turned to face Man Bun, giving me an unobstructed view of Broody, who was already barking orders through his phone. “Z, please show her where she’ll be staying.”

“Staying? Why would I be staying? We had a deal.” God, I sounded like some cheesy action movie actress but what else was I supposed to say? I had been played.

“And I’ll honor it after I know this is legit.” I was then forcibly removed from the room. I screamed until we reached my cell. I was expecting a dungeon or at least a basement. I should have known that would have been much too simple for him. Instead of a damp, dark room with concrete floors and blood on the walls, I was led inside a plush bedroom suite that looked far too comfortable for its purpose.

I spun around and found Man Bun, whose name I now knew was Z, attempting to leave. “Hey!” I shouted. He turned and lifted an eyebrow but offered nothing more. This was the time for me to beg and plead and offer money I didn’t have. “What’s your name?”

He smiled.

I tried not to melt.

“Z.”

“No.” His confusion was evident in his frown. “Yourrealname. The name your mother gave you.”

For the first time since meeting him, he didn’t appear friendly. His face had turned to stone, and his gaze was glacial as he glared across the space separating us. “Zachariah.”