Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (27 page)

Nothing else mattered except feeling him erupt this time, flooding me to the hilt.

“Come, you bastard,” I said, arching my back, slamming my ass back against his body. “Come inside me, please!”

Yes, I even begged. Shamelessly.

This wasn't just some stranger, or even a rough bastard who'd swept my heart away. This was my husband, the man I'd sworn the rest of my life to.

I'd become his everything, and he'd become mine.

His wife. His mate. His pussy. His whore.

His.

Irrevocably. Completely. Until the end of time.

“Fuck,” Joker growled, thrusting harder still. “Here it comes, woman – here it fuckin' comes! Take it.”

And I did.

He pinned me against the wall, sucking the soft spot between my neck and my shoulder. His cock stabbed into me, swelled, and exploded.

Hot, thick ropes of sperm swept into me. Our bodies jerked and thrashed, coming together, so intense it was blinding.

My pussy sucked greedily at his cock, taking it deep, absorbing everything he'd given.

Every muscle in his body twitched against my skin. He tightened, turned to stone, pouring himself into me, forcing my spasms to mimic his.

We came together in every sense of the word.

We came breathless. Beautiful.

When the storm in my body relented, I flattened my hands against the wall, purring as he kissed me tenderly across the spot he'd bit. I'd probably have a hickey on steroids there tomorrow, but I actually liked it.

My head turned. We kissed again, softer than before. Joker swept in so close his eye lashes brushed against mine, connecting foreheads.

“I love you,” I whispered, feeling him slip out of me. My legs automatically pushed together, the better to hold his seed in me. “God, Jackson, I really do. I never thought I could love anyone this much.”

“Bullshit,” he said, taking my chin in his fingers. Gently, he tilted my face. “Look at me, babe.”

I did. Our eyes caught the new moonlight coming in from the windows. He held my gaze while he stepped away, pulling the two robes hanging next to us off their hooks.

“You knew, all those years ago. We both did. I knew there was a helluva lot more than just another fuck the second I put my lips on yours the first time, underneath those stars. Remember?”

I smiled. Of course I did.

I surrendered, let him take me back to what felt like a million years ago after everything we'd been through.

But I remembered it like yesterday. Very slowly, I nodded.

He wasn't wrong.

The way my heart beat for him – that hadn't changed. God help me, I loved him, through all the hate, the sadness, the agony, and the loneliness.

Knowing he'd come back someday was all I had to hang on to during the early years with Alex. I'd just
known,
in some crazy sixth sense I couldn't describe.

I'd known in the bad times, too. I'd kept the faith we'd wind up here when Hatch was threatening to kill me with my son, when all I'd wanted was for him to keep breathing, busted up in that bed, after he'd destroyed the men threatening us.

“You're right,” I said, turning so he could tuck the purple robe in over my arms.

“Fuck yeah, babe, always am.” He grinned, throwing on his own robe. It matched, except it was bigger, and completely black.

He took my hand, and we walked out onto that deck, eyeing the sunset as Bingo snoozed at the bottom of the gated steps below. The big dog looked up, barked once, and happily wagged his tail.

I laughed. Joker took my hand, raised it to his mouth, kissing me again.

His mouth moved slowly. Tenderly. I almost thought I'd stepped back in time and married a country gentleman, rather than an outlaw biker.

“You're so sweet today,” I said, cocking my head. “What's gotten into you?”

He lowered my hand, turned it, and thumbed that heavy ring on my finger. He wasn't kidding about the diamond – the one he'd gotten was
huge.

“You. This,” he said quietly, stepping closer, into another embrace. “You're my wife, babe. Mine tonight, mine tomorrow, mine for fuckin' ever. Don't tell me you're complaining about a little honey. It's never been about nothing besides dirty, wild fuckin' between us, even though that's all I think about when I see your sweet ass naked. We've got more. We've got everything. We always did, Summertime, and we always will. Mark my fuckin' words.”

He turned me around, pressed in behind me, and wrapped a possessive arm around my waist. “Okay, Joker, I will. You tempt me, and I'll hold you to it.”

“Shit, yeah, you will. You're a spitfire, woman. That's half the reason I married you, half the reason I'm whispering shit I'd never say to anybody else, in between puttin' another kid in you.” Smiling, he pushed the top of my robe aside, kissing at my neck.

Out here, in the cool summer night, it tingled when his stubble brushed my skin. Hell, everything did.

“Yeah? Just half of it? What's the rest?” I asked, flashing him a mischievous smile.

“You make my heart pound straight into my dick like nobody else. Like nobody fuckin' ever. That's all you, baby, all I'm gonna fuck 'til I go back to the wind as ashes. All I want my mouth and hands and cock all over. All I'll ever need from now to kingdom come.”

“Mmm,” I purred, running my fingers through his short, dark hair while he kissed at my neck again. “Show me some more of that forever in case Alex interrupts us for a bedtime story, hubby.”

“Yeah, I will,” he growled, spinning me around and tearing down my robe, leaving us both naked in the soft night. “I'll show you, Summertime. Pound you so damned hard it'll leave your ears ringing. You'll be lucky to hear me say anything about lovin' you, but you'll know, baby girl. You'll know.”

I did.

He did, too.

We lived our wedding night knowing every sweet, soft angle of our love. Just like every night that came after.

Every night we had together as man and woman, outlaw and wife.

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Kisses,

Nicole Snow

“It won't be long now,” the nurse said, checking dad's IV bag. “Breathing getting shallower...pulse is slowing...don't worry, girls. He won't feel a thing. That's what the morphine's for.”

I had to squeeze his hand to make sure he wasn't dead yet. Jesus, he was so cold. I swore there was a ten degree difference between dad's fingers in one hand, and my little sister's in the other. I blinked back tears, trying to be brave for Jackie, who watched helplessly, trembling and shaking at my side.

We'd already said our goodbyes. We'd been doing that for the last hour, right before he slipped into unconsciousness for what I guessed was the last time.

I turned to my sister. “It'll be okay. He's going to a better place. No more suffering. The cancer, all the pain...it dies with him. Dad's finally getting better.”

“Missy...” Jackie squeaked, ripping her hand away from me and covering her face.

The nurse gave me a sympathetic look. It took so much effort to push down the lump in my throat without cracking up. I choked on my grief, holding it in, cold and sharp as death looming large.

I threw an arm around my sister, pulling her close. Lying like this was a bitch.

I wasn't really sure what I believed anymore, but I had to say something. Jackie was the one who needed all my support now. Dad's long, painful dying days were about to be over.

Not that it made anything easy. But I was grown up, and I could handle it. Losing him at twenty-one was hard, but if I was fourteen, like the small trembling girl next to me?

“Melissa.” Thin, weak fingers tightened on my wrist with surprising strength.

I jumped, drawing my arm off Jackie, looking at the sick man in the bed. His eyes were wide open and his lips were moving. The sickly sheen on his forehead glowed, one last light before it burned out forever.

“Daddy? What is it?” I leaned in close, wondering if I'd imagined him saying my name.

“Forgive me,” he hissed. “I...I fucked up bad. But I did it for a good reason. I just wish I could've done it different, baby...”

His eyelids fluttered. I squeezed his fingers as tight as I could, moving closer to his gray lips. What the hell was he saying? Was this about Mom again?

She'd been gone for ten years in a car accident, waiting for him on the other side. “Daddy? Hey!”

I grabbed his bony shoulder and gently shook him. He was still there, fighting the black wave pulling him lower, insistent and overpowering.

“It's the only way...I couldn't do it with hard work. Honest work. That never paid shit.” He blinked, running his tongue over his lips. “Just look in the basement, baby. There's a palate...roofing tiles. Everything I ever wanted to leave my girls is there. It was worth it...I promised her I'd do anything for you and Jackie...and I did. I did it, Carol. Our girls are set. I'm ready to burn if I need to...”

Hearing him say mom's name, and then talk about burning? I blinked back tears and shook my head.

What the hell was this? Some kinda death fever making him talk nonsense?

Dad started to slump into the mattress, a harsh rattle in his throat, the tiny splash of color left in his face becoming pale ash. I backed away as the machines howled. The nurse looked at me and nodded. She rushed to his free side, intently watching his heartbeat jerk on the monitor.

The machine released an earsplitting wail as the line went flat.

Jackie completely lost it. I grabbed her tight, holding onto her, turning away until the mechanical screaming stopped. I wanted to cover my ears, but I wanted hers closed more.

I held my little sister and rocked her to my chest. We didn't move until the nurse finally touched my shoulder, nudging us into the waiting room outside.

We sat and waited for all the official business of death to finish up. My brain couldn't stop going back to his last words, the best distraction I had to keep my sanity.

What
was he talking about? His last words sounded so strange, so sure. So repentant, and that truly frightened me.

I didn't dare get my hopes up, as much as I wanted to believe we wouldn't lose everything and end up living in the car next week. The medical bills snatched up the last few pennies left over from his pension and disability – the same fate waiting for our house as soon as his funeral was done.

Delirious,
I thought.
His dying wish was for us, hoping and praying we'd be okay. He went out selflessly, just like a good father should.

That was it. Had to be.

He was dying, after all...pumped full of drugs, driven crazy in his last moments. But I couldn't let go of what he said about the basement.

We'd have to scour the house anyway before the state kicked us out. If there was anything more to his words besides crazy talk, we'd find out soon enough, right?

I looked at Jackie, biting my lip. I tried not to hope off a dead man's words. But damn it, I did.

If he'd tucked away some spare cash or some silver to pawn, I wouldn't turn it down. Anything would help us live another day without facing the gaping void left by his brutal end.

My sister was tipped back in her chair, one tissue pressed tight to her eyes. I reached for her hand and squeezed, careful not to set her off all over again.

“We're going to figure this out,” I promised. “Don't worry about anything except mourning him, Jackie. You're not going anywhere. I'm going to do my damnedest to find us a place and pay the bills while you stay in school.”

She straightened up, clearing her throat, shooting me a nasty look. “Stop talking to me like I'm a stupid kid!”

I blinked. Jackie leaned in, showing me her bloodshot eyes. “I'm not as old as you, sis, but I'm not retarded. We're out of money. I get that. I know you won't find a job in this shitty town with half a degree and no experience...we'll end up homeless, and then the state'll get involved. They'll take me away from you, stick me with some freaky foster parents. But I won't forget you, Missy. I'll be okay. I'll survive.”

Rage shot through me. Rage against the world, myself, maybe even dad's ghost for putting us in this fucked up position.

I clenched my jaw. “That's
not
going to happen, Jackie. Don't even go there. I won't let –“

“Whatever. It's not like it matters. I just hope there's a way for us to keep in touch when the hammer falls.” She was quiet for a couple minutes before she finally looked up, her eyes redder than before. “I heard what he said while I was crying. Daddy didn't have crap after he got sick and left the force – nothing but those measly checks. He didn't earn a dime while he was sick. He died the same way he lived, Missy – sorry, and completely full of shit.”

Anger howled through me. I wanted to grab her, shake her, tell her to get a fucking grip and stop obsessing on disaster. But I knew she didn't mean it.

Lashing out wouldn't do any good. Rage was all part of grief, wasn't it? I kept waiting for mine to bubble to the surface, toxic as the crap they'd pumped into our father to prolong his life by a few weeks towards the end.

I settled back in my chair and closed my eyes. I'd find some way to keep my promise to Jackie, whether there was a lucky break waiting for us in the basement or just more junk, more wreckage from our lives.

Daddy wasn't ready to be a single father when Mom got killed, but he'd managed. He did the best he could before he had to deal with the shit hand dealt to him by this merciless life. I closed my eyes, vowing I'd do the same.

No demons waiting for us on the road ahead would stop me. Making sure neither of us died with dad was my new religion, and I swore I'd never, ever lose my faith.

* * *

A
week passed
. A lonely, bitter week in late winter with a meager funeral. Daddy's estranged brother sent us some money to have him cremated and buried with a bare bones headstone.

I wouldn't ask Uncle Ken for a nickel more, even if he'd been man enough to show his face at the funeral. Thankfully, it wasn't something to worry about. He kept his distance several states away, the same 'ostrich asshole' daddy always said he was since they'd fallen out over my grandparent's miniscule inheritance.

All it did was confirm the whole family was fucked. I had no one now except Jackie, and it was her and I against the world, the last of the Thomas girls against the curse turning our lives to pure hell over the last decade.

A short trip to the attorney's office told me what I already knew about dad's assets. What little he had was going into state hands. Medicare was determined to claw back a tiny fraction of what they'd spent on his care. And because I was now Jackie's legal guardian, his pension and disability was as good as buried with him.

The older lawyer asked me if I'd made arrangements with extended family, almost as an afterthought. Of course I had, I lied. I made sure to straighten up and smile real big when I said it.

I was a responsible adult. I could make money sprout from weeds. What did the truth matter in a world that wasn't wired to give us an ounce of help?

Whatever shit was waiting for us up ahead needed to be fed, nourished with lies if I wanted to keep it from burying us. I was ready for that, ready to throw on as many fake smiles and twisted truths as I needed to keep Jackie safe and happy.

Whatever wiggle room we'd had for innocent mistakes slammed shut the instant daddy's heart stopped in the sharp white room.

I was so busy dealing with sadness and red tape that I'd nearly forgotten about his last words. Finishing up his affairs and making sure Jackie still got some sleep and decent food in her belly took all week, stealing away the meager energy I had left.

It was late one night after she'd gone to bed when I finally remembered. It hit me while I was watching a bad spy movie on late night TV, halfway paying attention to the story as my stomach twisted in knots, steeling itself for the frantic job hunt I had to start tomorrow.

I got up from my chair and padded over to the basement door. Dust teased my nose, dead little flecks suspended in the dim light. The basement stank like mildew, tinged with rubbing alcohol and all the spare medicine we'd stored down here while dad suffered at home.

I held my breath descending the stairs, knowing it would only get worse when I finally had to inhale. Our small basement was dark and creepy as any. I looked around, trying not to fixate on his old work bench. Seeing the old husks of half-finished RC planes he used to build in better times would definitely bring tears.

Roofing tiles, he'd said. Okay, but where?

It took more than a minute just scanning back and forth before I noticed the big blue tarp. It was wedged in the narrow slit between the furnace and the hot water tank.

My heart ticked faster. So, he wasn't totally delusional on his death bed. There really were roofing tiles there – and what else?

It was even stranger because the thing hadn't been here when I was down in the basement last week – and daddy had been in hospice for three weeks. He couldn't have crawled back and hidden the unknown package here. Jackie definitely couldn't have done it and kept her mouth shut.