Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (20 page)

Joker only broke away a minute later – or was it more than that? – when Bingo started barking. We both looked up, and I got another shock, this one far ruder.

We heard Bingo, but we didn't see him. The dog was gone. So was little Alex.

“Shit!” Joker bolted up, realizing the full gravity before I did, stepping toward the blanket like he'd just seen it burning.

God, no.

I ran right behind him, trying not to faint, wondering how the hell we'd gotten so distracted they'd slipped away from us.

We ran on, heading toward the crop of trees, a little ways down the first trail. The park was completely deserted, except for us, which wasn't helpful.

Bingo barked like mad in the distance, somewhere in the trees. Joker looked over his shoulders, just once.

“No! Stay the fuck there, babe. Let me go.” His eyes were a killer's again.

It took all my might to anchor my feet to the ground, unmoving. I poked my head through the thick brush, angrily pushing the branches aside, trying to see.

Oh, Christ.
What were those shapes moving in the distance, deep in the woods?

I saw Joker's silhouette. Another shadow blurred past him, lower to the ground, probably Bingo's. The dog was going insane, crashing through the brush, chasing a tangle of other dark shapes moving up ahead.

“Motherfucker!” A man's voice rang out, surprised, but barely audible. Not Joker's.

My man dropped to his knees, pulled his gun, and –

“Holy shit,” I whispered, right after his gun went off.

One of the shadows went down. The others were moving, moving, and I heard it then.

A motorcycle. No, make that several, roaring in the distance.

Something else wailed. High, young, and very scared.

Alex.

Jesus Christ. Alex!

Two shadows went tearing into the trees, deeper into the woods, where I couldn't see. I heard the bikes peeling out, and I followed the sound, forgetting everything he'd told me. I ran through the brush, desperate to catch up, but it was already too late, and I knew it.

We'd been ambushed. My baby boy was gone.

I plunged through the trees, stabbing down the tangled shortcut along the trail, until I couldn't hear anything except my own breath catching in my lungs. Hot tears blurred my vision. Ignoring the sharp branches and thorns scratching at my skin, I pressed on, ripping through everything I could.

If I could catch them, find the bikes, see what was going on, then maybe I'd have a license plate. Or a face.

Something, anything, fucking
anything
to save my son!

About a minute later, I collided with a huge, thick slab of chest. He grabbed me, pulled me into him, but not before the scream leaving my throat echoed across the whole park.

“Babe, babe, fuckin' stop! Baby!”

Joker. It took me forever to realize it was him. Even longer for me to stop scratching, biting, kicking.

I was a total mess. So was Bingo, who paced angrily around us, his fur a tangled mess, forest debris clinging to him. He'd tried to chase them down, the same as me.

“Where did they go? Did you see them? Jackson, did you hear the bikes?!”

“Heard it all. Killed one of them. I was fast. They were fuckin' faster. Saw the last of their goddamned shit drive away before I could get there. Three bikes. One truck.” He swallowed, his big arms starting to shake. I looked at him, shuddering when I saw his eyes.

Pure, hellacious rage was eating him alive. I didn't have a clue how he held me, squeezed me so tight it wasn't easy to breathe.

“God. What else did you see? Is he...”

Gone?
I couldn't bring myself to say it. Bingo rolled on the pavement, another small parking lot across the park, where the demons had snuck in when we hadn't been looking.

Joker just looked at me and nodded, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the bulge in his temples. There must've been a hurricane exploding inside him. It had to hurt.

Maybe as bad as the savage hell swallowing me up, stabbing its knife in my back, driving it deep until the world became a detached, maddening blur.

“Don't even fuckin' say it,” he growled, his phone in one hand. “Walk with me. Stay close. I ain't fuckin' losing the second half of the only thing that ever fuckin' mattered in one fuckin' day.”

I walked behind him, halfheartedly putting Bingo back on his leash, tugging him along as the dog followed lazily at my feet. We hit the trail, walking back to where we'd come.

When I saw the empty blanket next to the tree and the picnic table, I fucking lost it. Just froze up, buried my face in my hands, and cried.

Our son was going to die, innocent as the day he was born.

Joker's voice echoed around me like an engine roaring.

He screamed. Swore. Begged his brothers for help, for backup,
right this fucking instant.

What did it matter? If the club showed up in the next five seconds, it was still too late.

We were too late. I fell down in the blanket, numb to everything, Bingo whining and pawing at my side.

“Summer? Babe? What the fuckin' fuck?!”

Joker threw the phone down, grabbed me, and shook me with all his might. I couldn't feel it.

I couldn't feel...anything.

Regret wrapped around my throat like a snake, choked the life out of me. Deep inside my chest, something splintered, gave way.

That hopeful, fragile ball swinging in my heart all day went flying off, hit the ground, and shattered into a trillion deadly pieces.

I started laughing.

A woman never really imagines what it feels like to lose her mind until it's too fucking late.

Joker couldn't bring me back. He grabbed me, shook me, thundered in my face.

I'd been so stupid it made me sick to death. I'd sacrificed our son for a lie, an illusion, and now it was too late to take it all back.

Our happiness had cost us everything.

O
nce
, when I was a stupid piece of shit going on my first real run as a prospect, we all stopped in this little bar on the Virginia border. This place was dirty, right down to the grime on the floors, the cheap booze, and the dirty bitches offering their holes to us for the night.

Piece shit his pants for a fuckin' week afterward, wondering if he'd picked up the clap, or something nastier from the whores. My biggest sin was taking a long, discolored smoke from the fucker managing the bar, grinning at me with his dirty teeth.

Never knew what the fuck the asshole laced it with.

Whatever it was, it sent me to fuckin' Saturn and back, ripped me outta my body and threw me down on the ground so fuckin' hard I woke up screaming, turning over tables, making a goddamned fool outta myself.

Dust had to punch me out cold before I woke up again, the pain sobering me up. He was just the Veep then, leaning over me with his old man, Early, our Prez in those days.

“Don't move, you goddamned psycho sonofabitch,” Early growled, his thick gray beard matching his eyes.

“Prez! Fuck, I –“

“Shut up. I'm talking. You want your bottom rocker, you'd better wisen up about a few things, boy. This club's got no damned room for loose cannons, fools, or fuckin' jokers.”

I looked at him coldly, and nodded. Later, we were still milling around the bar, waiting for these other fucks coming down from Jersey to launder some money, far from home.

Assholes were a big crime syndicate in Atlantic City, some proxy group tied to the Russian mob. We were counting their cash, separating our fee from the shit we were banking, when this big, bald fucker crept up on Dust.

I got between him and the devil's switchblade with about a second to spare.

That sleek, metal sonofabitch slid straight into my side, narrowly missing my guts. Didn't feel the burn 'til after I had my nine out, aimed at his head, and pulled the trigger.

I blew the bastard's brains out. The brothers put holes in more of them before we realized they'd come here to fuck us over. A few more fucks limped away, begging for mercy. None of 'em would answer what the hell they were trying to pull, so they got their brains shot out too.

Piece pulled a marker outta his pocket on Dust's order, cursing underneath his breath. Every single bill he checked was counterfeit.

Early fuckin' lost it. Reached into our truck for gas, poured it all over the black bag of cash, and lit it the fuck up. We warmed ourselves in the rainy forest that night, stoking the flames with the shit they'd tried to feed us, before we burned their bodies.

Before it was over, the old Prez ripped off half his t-shirt, tied it around my waist, stopping the bleeding. “I'm sixty two years old, but I'm man enough to admit when I'm wrong about shit. Dusty, you tell him.” Early looked at his son, strange amusement flashing in his eyes.

Dust looked at me, the same cold, dark stare I'd see for the next seven years. Maybe for the rest of my life.

“This club needs a joker after all, brother. Some fucker who's crazy enough to move, not think, even when he's been stabbed. Joker. That's what we're calling you from here on out.”

I rode home with the rest of the crew the next day, numb to the core. The whole thing had been nothing but a fuckin' accident, all due to a drug laced cig that fucked up my head and my nerves so bad I couldn't feel the pain in my guts.

The name stuck.

* * *

“
J
oker
.” Dust said my name about a split second before his big hand fell against my shoulder. “It's time, brother.”

I looked up, hating him for making me rip my hand away from Summer's. She lay on the little cot in our makeshift infirmary, dazed and asleep from the shit Laynie had given her, but still tossing and turning every few minutes.

Bingo slept at her feet, dead to the world. Best part about being a dog was that you never had to suffer through this shit.

“Go. I'll be right here, the whole time, in case she needs anything.”

Prez led me into our meeting room. All the brothers were already there, gathered around, waiting. Every man looked at me, sympathy or sadness carved into his face.

“Where's the fuckin' video?” I sat down in my usual spot, running my fingers over all the cuts I'd left in the wood over the years.

Normally, my blade would've been out, stabbing through my fuckin' fingers, relieving the blackness rising up inside me like tar. I'd lost too much today for that to do a damned thing, though.

I'd had it all and lost it in one goddamned week.

Fuck.

“It's here,” Skin said nervously, pulling out his phone. He looked at the Prez and then at Sixty, both of them on each side of me. Quietly making sure they were ready to hold me down when I lost my shit, before I turned the whole clubhouse upside down.

I'd only seen pictures of the sick, pockmarked motherfucker who showed up on the screen a couple times before. His lips twitched, smug and punchable, making my knuckles burn. Fuck, I wanted to break his jaw, and then keep going 'til the goddamned thing was just a mess swinging on his face.

“Hi, assholes. It's your old friend, Hatch. Listen, I've got something that belongs to you.” He stood up, stepped aside, and I saw him.

Alex. Sitting glumly in a booster seat, an ugly looking bitch with neon purple hair at his side, grinning like the wicked witch. Probably some nasty fuckin' slut they'd recruited to watch over him while they decided what the fuck to do.

“Let me tell ya, this little shit's got nine lives or something. Came close to gutting him before, having a sniper put a hole through his little head. Right in front of his ma. Whatever I had to do when I wanted that fuckin' bitch to crawl up your asses and pull out some gold.” He paused, and my fists flexed 'til it burned up to my shoulder, watching that shit-eating smirk die on his face. “Well, we all know how that worked out. She bailed on me. I've lost two of my men. If we weren't in open fucking war before, we sure as shit are now!”

He spun around, shook the camera, screaming into it. I caught a blur of the bitch holding my kid, pulling him to her chest, covering his ears. “Hatch, please...”

“Here's how it's going down, kids. You want this brat to keep breathing – and I know you pussies do – you'll drain your fuckin' accounts. Eight hundred big. A million if you've got it, and you want more insurance I won't pluck a hair outta his tiny little head. Dumped on my doorstep, outside Seddon, where I've set up camp, in forty eight hours or less. You tell the Grizzlies and the Devils to fuck right off, stay in their own territory. Better, you tell 'em our business is the way to go, give us free access through Tennessee, and maybe we won't mow you fuckers down.”

A slow burning rage moved through every man in the room. All eyes were glued to Skin's phone while the piece of shit ragged on.

“No negotiations. No other choices. You fuck me over, the brat dies. You fuck me over, we ride up to Knoxville the second after we cut his fuckin' throat, slam our boot up your asses, and kill every last one of you. We burn your clubhouse. Tear apart your shitty fuckin' strip club, drag every bitch we can find back to Georgia in chains. Old lady, whore, who the fuck ever. This ain't a conversation, boys. It's a demand, motherfuckers, and it will be fucking met. Because if it ain't...”

The shithead trailed off, smiling. Slowly, he turned toward my son, and pointed his knife, guiding one long cut through the air. Up and down.

The bitch holding Alex gave him a sour look before the screen went black.

“That's all we've got,” Skin said quietly. “Intel says they're somewhere around Seddon, just like the bastard said. Don't know how many. Could be half a crew if this is just a raiding party. Could be a whole fuckin' army if he brought in men from the other chapters.”

“When do we go?” I growled, looking at the Prez.

“We have to wait for the Grizzlies. Blackjack says his boys are about fifteen hours out. I've told him everything, and they're hauling ass to get here, coming through the Midwest right now. We can't do shit 'til we've got numbers. He's luring us into a trap. He knows damned well we won't comply.”

“Yeah,” Firefly said, trying to pin me down with his cold blue eyes. “He ain't wrong. We're going over everything before we rush in blind, making damned sure we can creep into Georgia without them finding out. We break into two groups, hit 'em from two directions, they won't see it coming. They're used to us being small, moving together. They don't know about the deal with the Grizzlies. We've got reinforcements. Just need to wait for 'em.”

He talked calmly. Smoothly. A commander's words intended to diffuse the anger turning my blood molten, keep me from doing something stupid.

Fuck, stupid?
That was wasting one more second here waiting, sitting while those fuckin' jackals did God only knew what to my kid.

“Reinforcements?” I said coldly, straining my throat. “No waiting. The damned Grizzlies ain't greenhorns, they can fuckin' catch up to us.”

“Brother, please,” Dust said, the tension on his face bleeding out, begging for calm. “I know you're torn up. Know you're losing your mind, listening to us pinpoint strategy while they've got your kid and put your girl in a fuckin' coma. You've got to wait.”

Wait? Wait?!

Was this motherfucker serious?

For three goddamned fuckin' years, he'd told me to sit on my ass. Wait.

Be a good, patient little boy while he schemed to bring down my brother's killers, the same ruthless assholes who had my son hostage, who'd put my old lady in a stupor.

Fuck him. Fuck me.

Hell, I hadn't even officially claimed her yet, and if this went sideways, I never fuckin' would!

The growl tearing my throat apart started like an earthquake. I was on my feet before either of the brothers at my side could jump me, Sixty moving slow as usual, a smoke hanging outta his bearded mouth.

“Bro –“ he started, laying a hand on my shoulder. I threw him off with one violent shake, stepping up to Dust.

“I've waited years, Prez.
Years,
just like you fuckin' said. Lived by your promise that we'd get our chance to tear their guts out for what they did to my brother. Piece was dead and gone before I could do shit about it. Ain't the same with my kid, and I'm not sitting on my fuckin' hands!”

Dust's eyes widened. His salt and pepper stubble twitched, turning his look of surprise into a fatal glare. My words slipped a dagger into his back, spilling the beans in front of the brothers.

Ask me if I fuckin' cared. Nothing, nothing, nothing else mattered right now except having my family back.

Sixty, Skin, and Firefly shared a look. Lion and Tin hung back, halfway outta their chairs. I'd stopped them all from creeping up and throwing me on the floor with nothing but my words.

“Cap'n? What the fuck's he talking about? Motorcycle accident got Piece...right?” Anger distorted Firefly's voice.

Very slowly, Dust pulled his pipe outta his mouth, coldly turned his eyes away from me, and looked at the rest of the boys. “No. There's more to that shit I've kept to myself 'til now. Just between me and Joker.”

Practically heard about a dozen jaws hitting the floor. The prospects lined up against the wall looked at each other nervously.

We had about one more second of brutal silence before all hell broke lose.

“You cocksucking, lyin' motherfucker!” Skin lost it first, flying outta his chair, pointing a stern finger at the Prez like a dagger. “You're gonna tell us what happened, but first we oughta vote on whether or not you keep the fuckin' gavel for this bullshit!”

Half the boys in the room nodded. I just stood there, fists almost trembling at my sides. Couldn't decide whether I was going to march the fuck out or break Dust's jaw over this shit.

Dust looked at all the brothers, one by one, a calm like ice running through him.

“Careful, boy. Before you start calling for any changes around here, ya'll better realize I did it to save everybody's asses. We're barely in a position to fuck with the Deads now, and we sure as hell weren't three goddamned years ago. When we lose one of our own, we've got a blood oath. Every damned brother in this room would've been obliged to risk his life on it. You all would've died, going off before we were good and ready. And so, I sat on it, asked the Veep to do the same, biding our time, 'til we could pay those motherfuckers back without losing the whole charter.”

“You fuckin' lied.” Firefly wasn't convinced. His fist came up, falling against the table like a sledgehammer. “You fuckin' lied to each and every one of us about a dead brother, just like you bullshitted me to my face about boning my goddamned sis!”

Shitstorm status? Hurricane.

Dust and Firefly stared each other down, taking everybody's eyes off me.

The big Enforcer echoed the dark, pissed off energy shredding my guts. I couldn't take it standing here a second longer. I had to fuckin' go.

Turning, I started marching for the door, but only made it halfway there before it popped open. One of the young, lean prospects we'd taken to calling Buck stood there with a smoke in his mouth, his eyes rolling around like marbles, wondering what the fuck he'd walked into.