Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (8 page)

I kicked my legs. “I
do
care – especially if they come out here with a shotgun to kick us out!”

I didn't have a clue who owned this place. Normally, his judgment was spot on finding secret places for us out in the country.

Fucking outdoors certainly hadn't lost its charm since I'd gotten my own place. We did it often, whenever the urge took hold while riding through the countryside.

“Babe, trust me, there ain't gonna be any trouble tonight,” he growled, silencing me with a long, sticky kiss. “Calm your sweet ass down, or I'll pull down those pants and spank the shit outta you 'til you do.”

I stuck my tongue out. He talked like an animal – and I must've gone insane because it turned me on.

“Don't fuckin' tempt me, Summertime. You think I'm bluffing?”

Heavens, no.

I nodded anyway, pulling back when he tried to bury his lips on mine again.

Teasing a man like this was playing with fire, yeah, but it was the most exquisite kind of fire a woman could get.

That did it. I tried not to squeal as he lifted me up, throwing me over his shoulder, just enough to undo my belt and yank down my jeans. I kicked hard, thrashing so he couldn't get them all the way off.

He loved the bad girl act. So did I.

Hell, he'd already introduced me to a lot of things I hadn't expected to ever love. The biggest one was staring at me, the bastard himself, giving me a look that said this was way more serious than foreplay.

“Stop moving or I'll hoist you up right here in the field while we fuck,” he rumbled in my ear, hot and low as summer thunder.

“No!” I whimpered, shaking my head.

“Yeah, fuck yeah, baby girl. I don't bullshit, and you know it. Keep wrestling, your pants are gone. I'll spank the shit out of you, fuck you where the bastards in the house can see, and leave your clothes here in the dirt. You can take the bitch seat on my bike completely naked.”

Oh. My. God.

I stiffened in his arms. The insane threat lit every nerve I had on fire.

He couldn't possibly be serious – could he?

Between the panic, my pussy gushed, lost in the heatwave of anger and filthy desire smashing together.

His threats scared me, aroused me, and tempted me all at once.

I was still trying to decide whether to slap his face and see if he'd make good on it when his hand caught the back of my jeans and pulled.

Cool wind kissed my bare cheeks. His eyebrows shot up. I drank in the surprise on his face and grinned.

“No fuckin' panties? Shit!”

“Told you, I'm full of surprises. You haven't gotten me figured out yet, Joker.”

A low growl began building in his throat. I'd heard it a couple dozen times by now, and I loved it every single time. I braced myself, ready to be thrown down on the ground while he tore at my clothes, hurled into a desperate heat to fuck me senseless.

But a loud ringing went off next to us.

I gasped. My heart leaped into my throat, and for a bitter second, I thought we'd really been caught by the people who lived here.

No, it was something else – his phone. He carefully set me back on the ground. I reached for my pants, pulling them up while he turned his back, staring at the phone he'd jerked from his pocket.

“What the fuck? Grandpa's number?” Joker muttered. He tapped a key and held it up to his ear. “Grandpa? What's up?”

I leaned in. There was nothing but static on the other end, a faint crackling that didn't resemble voices.

White noise. Vague and chilling.

After another few seconds, he killed the call and redialed. My brow furrowed as I wrapped both my hands around his, listening in, hoping it was nothing so we could get back to the filthy, crazy things we were about to do.

Somehow, my heart knew it wouldn't be so simple. I had that sinking feeling deep in my stomach. The kind I'd got when mama brushed off her sickness like no big deal, even when she couldn't keep down toast and water.

“Fuck. We have to go,” Joker said finally, pushing his fingers through mine. “Ain't like him to call when he knows I'm out. Never heard his line acting up like this. Something's up.”

“Let me come with, Joker,” I said. I'd been itching for a chance to get closer to his family, to test where we were going. “I'll stay outside if anything's up. Promise.”

Smiling, I crossed my heart. He hesitated for a few seconds, but finally nodded.

“All right. Let's fuckin' go.”

We flew down the highway leading back into Seddon. His grandpa had a cozy little house on the outskirts of town.

Soon, we were parked outside it. A faint light was on in the window. Joker's body hardened underneath my hands when we pulled up, and I saw him looking at his brother's bike, parked next to the old man's truck.

He killed the engine and we listened quietly to insects droning in the night. Tucking my helmet into the storage compartment, I stood there next to him, eyeballing the mad tension souring his face. He inhaled deeply several times, turning his head.

“Jackson, what is it?”

“Smoke. Somebody's been roasting the shit outta something in the fire pit.” He took off toward the small ring of stones at the side of the house.

I ran after him, putting my arm over my mouth so I wouldn't cough. The stink of something strange and sickly hung in the air. I'd barely noticed it at first, but now that I was closer, it was withering.

I found him at the firepit's edge, crouched on the ground. He held a long stick in his hand, and the burned tatters of something leathery hung at the end.

“What is that?” I asked nervously, hesitating to put my hand on his shoulder.

“Nothing good,” he whispered, squinting at the thing on the stick. “Looks like somebody's fuckin' cut's been burned out here. Can't make out the damned colors...”

No kidding. The leather vest barely resembled anything now, looking a lot like a skinned animal singed to a crisp. He shook it off and kicked off the grill sitting over the fire, pushing his stick through the ash and debris.

It looked like there were rocks mixed in with the coals and cloudy ash. Bone white rocks, covered in scorch marks.

Bone.
I trembled.

No. It couldn't be human...

“Jackson?” I looked at him intently, clutching his sleeve.

He pressed a finger against his lips, flashing me a sharp look. My eyes went wide when I saw his free hand pulling his gun from its holster.

“Quiet, babe. Some serious shit's been going down. You wait here, back behind the tree.” He stopped and pointed to the large trunk several steps away. “Grandpa doesn't go to sleep so fuckin' early, and neither does Piece. Sure as fuck don't come out here to grill after dark, except when Piece is looking for a midnight snack...and the shit in here ain't anybody's dinner. It's too quiet. Too fucked up. Hang tight. I'm goin' in alone. You hear anybody else moving out here, you scream, and I'll come runnin'.”

I wanted to cry out, but I didn't dare. My heart pulsed frantically in my chest. For the first time since we'd shown up here, I knew we were in real danger, something I wasn't ready to handle.

I hung back behind the big tree out front, obeying him word for word, my hand on my pocket. First sign of trouble, I'd call the police.

Depending on the biker code to handle whatever was happening out here wasn't going to do. I couldn't let anybody else get hurt.

God.
Swallowing a lump in my throat, I let the evil possibilities wash over me.

There'd been so many rumors about the Deadhands moving into town, the rival motorcycle gang that had eaten up most of Georgia.

What if they'd found out about Joker and his brother? What if they were here?

Just relax. Breathe,
I told myself.

Up in the sky, the big moon glowed, still holding a little of its blood red tinge from the eclipse earlier this evening.

The first gunshot exploded inside the house a second later.

I jumped at the sound, hugging the tree for support. Two more loud bangs echoed through the night, one after another.

My fingers shook as I pulled out my phone, desperately trying to get it up to my face, so I could dial.

The last few drops of blood in my body that weren't already glacial became ice when I saw the dark, lifeless screen.

“Shit!” I cursed myself, remembering that it'd been low on charge at work. I'd fucking forgotten to plug it in.

Stuffing it back into my pocket, I peaked around the tree, staring at the house. If there was any sane way out of this, I'd find it inside, however hellish it might be.

I had to move. I had to find him.

Walking into the house made me feel disembodied. I hadn't had that sensation since mama's funeral, the one where it seems like a woman's soul is going to leave her body forever, and there's nothing she can do about it.

The screen door creaked loudly in my hands, making me silently curse the whole evil situation one more time. As soon as I was in, I heard...a slapping sound?

Someone banged on something soft. Like the way I remembered mama slapping bread dough.

“Joker?” I whispered, creeping around the corner.

There wasn't much to the place. Just two tiny rooms, a kitchen, and a main living area.

Someone had left a blanket and several empty beer bottles on the floor, next to the couch. I carefully avoided tripping on them and pressed forward, perking my ears up again, listening for anything.

I heard him when I was near the first little room. Joker's voice sputtering in a harsh whisper.

Desperate. Horrified. Enraged.

“Grandpa, come on. Come on. Come the fuck on!”

Fingers trembling, I gripped the edge of the door, and pushed it open.

First thing I noticed was the broken glass all over the place. Someone had shot out the window – probably the gunshots I'd heard.

Joker leaned on the floor, bent over the old man, frantically pumping his granddad's chest.

I was about to drop down and help when I noticed the strange, round object perched on the bed. At first, it looked like a pumpkin in the shadowy darkness, but it was only July. Jack-o-lanterns weren't close to being in season yet.

Pushing the door just a little more so I could get light into the room, the shadows moved. Then I saw the detached face staring at me from the bed.

Joker's face, missing his brilliant hazel eyes. They'd been plucked from his head, leaving two neat spiderwebs of blood curling down his sunken cheeks.

Both my hands went straight to my mouth. I tried not to hyperventilate as I realized I was looking at Freddy's severed head, ripped from his body, mutilated in their own house.

Beneath me, the old man sputtered, gasping for breath, finally alive again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, thank Christ,” Joker groaned.

The next few seconds happened in slow motion like some kind of horror movie. He stood, shaking as he got up on his knees, his phone in one hand. He looked at his twin brother's severed head on the bed, and then turned to me slowly, wiping away the hot, brutal tear rolling down his cheek.

“Joker...Jackson...” I tried to say more than just his name, the only two I knew him by, but the words wouldn't come.

What the
hell
do you say to a man who's just lost everything? What the fuck could I possibly say that would mean anything?

“Get. Out,” He growled, stepping toward me until I backed away, filling the empty doorway with his huge body. “Old friend's coming to take you home.”

No, let me stay! I want to help!
I thought, but my tongue was completely stiff when I tried to speak, my mouth hanging open like a total fool.

“Joker...”

“Do
not
fuckin' argue. You heard me,” he said, his warm, cocky voice turned into a killer's ice. “This ain't for you, babe. You don't belong here. You never did.”

Those cracks in my heart deepened. Split. Shattered.

Dashing out the door, I held in a scream, feeling the sharp pieces of my own heart clattering against my ribs, tearing me in two.

The rest of the night passed in a stupor. Somehow, I forced myself onto the porch, where I sat there and waited. Eventually, an old truck pulled up, and an older man wearing a military hat waved.

He asked me where I lived. I told him. Those were the only words we exchanged until he was at my door.

“Out,” he said, reaching past me to pop the door.

I turned, giving the asshole the dirtiest look I had. “Really? After all that, you fucking tell me to –“

“You've got ten seconds, doll, before I shove you out that door and take off. I don't ask the questions, just do favors when the club asks me. If you've got any sense in your pretty little head, you'll do the same.” He looked at me, his eyes dark and angry, like I was the biggest chore he'd ever had. “Go home. And don't you
ever
tell anybody what the fuck happened out there tonight.”

He had me. He won.

I couldn't deal with this shit. Not after what I'd seen, death and destruction, the love draining from the face of the man I'd started to believe in.

I didn't walk. I ran, all the way to my doorstep, jamming the keys in so hard I nearly snapped them in the locks.

Bed was my only sanctuary.

My face hit the pillows as soon as I was home. I buried it there, drowning in my tears, hoping they'd pull me completely under so I'd never have to wake up. When I did, it was going to be one long nightmare.

Oh, if only that hell was the end of it. I had no idea how terrible things were about to get.