He swiped at Brogan’s arm, and the blade actually managed to skim the material of the black shirt he wore. The long sleeve covered his arm to the wrist, the protective weave of the material holding out against the glancing brush of the blade.

Donny snarled, enraged.

Brogan grinned, waited, then boxed both Donny’s ears as the other man took his next swipe before Brogan spun away.

This was fun and all, but he was getting bored. Donny was actually shedding tears and snot, he was so pissed at being unable to shed blood.

Besides, Brogan wanted to get at least a few hours’ sleep tonight. If he kept fucking around with this little weasel, then there was no way he would have time for it.

Brogan waited.

When Donny moved to slice out at his midsection again, Brogan caught his fist and twisted it hard as he angled the hand back forcefully and collected the knife from Donny’s suddenly numb fingers.

Donny emitted a screech that would have done Sandi proud if she had made it herself.

Before he could struggle or attempt to get away, Brogan thrust his arm behind his back and laid the razor-sharp blade at Donny’s throat.

“I like the sight of blood, too,” Brogan rasped, his voice well disguised by the electronic box secured at his throat. “Tonight I want your blood.”

“Please don’t. Oh, God, please don’t hurt him!” Sandi cried out, real tears filling her voice and falling from her eyes.

Hell, she might really love the bastard, Brogan thought as she sobbed out Donny’s name and pleaded for his life.

“Muzzle that shit,” he ordered Eli as he stroked the knife against Donny’s throat warningly.

Glancing in the mirror across the room, he saw Donny as he watched Eli’s black-clad form tear a strip of duct tape from the roll he’d pulled out of the mission pack on his back.

Rage burned in Donny’s eyes as Eli taped his lover’s mouth, then patted her cheek with gentle mockery.

“Shall I have him slice her throat, or do I slice yours?” Brogan asked softly at Donny’s ear, still watching the other man’s face in the mirror.

Donny swallowed tightly, and Brogan was certain what his answer would be.

The regret, the seeming apology as he stared back at his lover was all a dead giveaway that Donny would save himself.

Sandi was shaking her head desperately, sobbing through the tape, no doubt certain she was going to die.

“Answer me, Donny,” he demanded, rubbing the blade against his throat in whispery strokes, “One of you is going to die. You or her?”

Tears fell from Donny’s eyes as Sandi became almost hysterical.

“Me,” he answered.

Sandi’s chair almost tipped over before Eli could catch it as hysteria overtook her.

“I don’t think I heard you, Donny.” He held the knife motionless against the man’s throat. “Say it again.”

Donny was staring at his lover in misery as she screamed through the tape again, still sobbing uncontrollably. He hadn’t even noticed that Brogan was watching him through the mirror.

“Me,” Donny answered, his voice louder, strangely devoid of fear. “Kill me; don’t hurt her.”

Sandi bent forward, sobbing, screaming through the tape, jerking hysterically against the ropes that held her as jagged cries tore from her chest.

Brogan looked at Eli, the other man’s eyes reflecting the same shock Brogan felt. Sandi was protesting so hysterically Eli actually had to hold the chair in place.

“You’re going to sacrifice yourself for her?” Brogan asked in mocking disbelief. “Why? She’s not faithful. She whores around on you—”

“Don’t call her that,” Donny protested raggedly as Brogan watched his expression thoughtfully while watching Sandi from the corner of his eye.

Hell, they loved each other.

“Tell me why,” Brogan demanded again.

“Because I’ll die anyway if you kill her,” he stated, confusing Brogan with his suddenly calm demeanor. “I couldn’t live without her.”

“So you risk her life thieving? You pimp her out and keep her in harm’s way here while committing treason?” he probed while he had the chance. “That’s not love, Donny.”

“I love her.” It wasn’t a protest or an argument. It was a statement. Then he frowned, confused. “I ain’t no traitor, man.”

“So you love the woman you let other men screw for money?” Brogan ignored the protest.

“I love her,” Donny snapped, meeting his gaze directly. “And she’s no whore. Sandi screws no man but me. I know what she does. She flirts and she teases a little. Then she gives them a few sleeping pills while I steal their money. She doesn’t screw them.”

“You endanger her in whatever moneymaking schemes you can come up with. That’s not love.”

“I love her.”

Brogan whispered the next accusation sneeringly. “You use her; you don’t want to die for her.”

“I love her.” Donny’s voice cracked in misery. “I love her.”

Son of a bitch, go figure.

“Donny?”

“What?” He sniffed, swallowing tightly.

“Do you want to live another day with the woman you love?”

Donny nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Then listen to me carefully.” Brogan hardened his voice. “If either of you, at any time—tomorrow, next week, next year, fucking next lifetime,” he snarled, “should verbally or physically or through someone else strike out at Eve Mackay again, I won’t give you a choice; I’ll just come after your woman.”

Donny’s eyes widened in shock.

“If you so much as breathe Eve’s air, brush against her, or even think to insult her, her family, her friends, hell, her fucking enemies, then I’ll come after your lover. When I do, I’ll make what happened to those rabbits seem humane. You read me, asshole?”

“I hear.” He snarled as Brogan nicked his neck with the blade.

“If Eve Mackay or Brogan Campbell learns anyone was here tonight, learns you were threatened in any way, coerced to act decent, then I’ll come for her,” he whispered insidiously. “And if I hear so much as a breath that you have information concerning thieves and traitors and didn’t tell me, then I’m coming after her. Read me.”

“I hear you.” Donny’s voice was barely a whisper now.

“If I find out you heard any of the above and you didn’t contact me, I’ll bathe in her blood. You got it?”

“How?” Donny swallowed tightly. “Contact you how?”

“You left your cell phone in the kitchen,” Brogan reminded him. “There’s a new number in it. Now I’ll ask you one more time: Do you know anything?”

Donny and Sandi stared at each other for long moments. Nodding to Eli, Brogan watched as he pulled the long, wickedly sharp knife from the sheath at his thigh and laid it against Sandi’s neck.

“Wait. Wait,” Donny whispered.

Eli lifted the knife marginally from Sandi’s throat—just enough that it wasn’t touching her skin.

“Come on, Donny,” Brogan urged him. “What do you know?”

“The thieves are part of the touring club,” he revealed. “Some say it’s Brogan Campbell.”

“Is it?” Brogan asked.

Fear flickered in Donny’s eyes. “I don’t think so. I think it’s someone else, but I don’t know who. Someone who used to be in that group with Chandler and Dayle Mackay.”

“The Freedom League?” Brogan asked, his gaze flickering to Eli. This was the first they had heard this.

“Yeah, that Freedom League.” Donny swallowed again, obviously terrified, but more terrified of losing his lover.

Luck was with him tonight, Brogan thought. He’d never imagined that coming here to beat the shit out of the little bastard over some rabbits would end up with information on the very investigation he’d been working for two and a half years now.

“You know something else, Donny,” Brogan stated smoothly, confidently.

He could see it in the other man’s eyes every time his gaze met his lover’s.

“Just talk, that’s all,” Donny wheezed. “There’s talk that the files Brogan Campbell stole are really important. They have coordinates in them for something. Something that the League wants.”