Never Kiss an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (23 page)

“I'm fine!” I hollered back, banging on the tarnished metallic wall for emphasis. “Be out in just a second, okay?”

“Yeah, all right. You need anything, you yell.”

The door banged shut.
Mercy.

Pants up, I slumped back down on the toilet for a second, trying not to lose my mind. Through the tiny crack in the stall door where the metal met, I could see the little plastic test, laying where anybody could see.

I barely cared anymore. Being laughed at by one of the dancers or judged by the prospects was nothing, nothing,
nothing
compared to telling Firefly.

How the hell was I going to break the news?

Was he ready to be a father? He'd only talked about family a few times before. I only knew about his sister, the one I still hadn't met, face-to-face.

Honestly, worrying about
him
being ready was the least of my concerns. I knew that I wasn't.

But I wasn't giving it up either.

This baby, this piece of him and I...

I had to protect it. I had to have it.

I had to give it more – so much more – than everything I'd been given in this life gone off track, everything my own stupid father had handed away when he ended his life.

I stood up, shaking, wiping my brow. Somehow, I staggered out of the stall, picked up the test, and shoved it back into my pocket.

I had enough sense not to drop it in the trash can – if anyone else stumbled across it, I didn't want any of the girls to get in trouble, making Meg think they'd hidden a pregnancy.

No, this was worse than that. It was
me
doing the hiding, and I honestly didn't know how I'd ever show my face to Firefly again, without instantly spilling the truth.

I couldn't hide it from him. Much less myself.

This wonderful, unthinkable child was going to be the only thing on my mind every time I drew breath. I just knew it, just like realizing how quickly those strange, maternal instincts I'd always heard about can take a girl over.

“Cora?” Someone banged the door as they pushed it open, this time a woman's voice calling.

Meg.
Shit.

The prospects must've found her and filled her in.

I finished washing up and turned around, flashing her my biggest, brightest, fakest smile. “I was just looking for you.”

“Holy shit. You look like...well...”

She caught herself. I just laughed, shaking my head.

“Go ahead and say it. I feel like it, too.”

We both laughed. “God. Let me get you some fluids. I'll help you find a comfy spot to rest and give Laynie a call. She'll make sure it's nothing serious.”

Then she threw her arm around me, leading me out of the bathroom, past the two burly prospects. Lion stepped in her path, his big arms folded.

“Sorry, ma'am. Can't let her go anywhere if it ain't in our sight. Orders from Firefly.”

“Oh, jeez.” Meg rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “Okay, okay. I've already been through several of these situations with you boys before. You can both tag along behind us if you'd like. Probably good you have something to do here besides hitting on my girls.”

Lion nudged Tinman, who was already staring at Tawny and a couple other strippers, their legs propped up in the corner, rolling on their stockings and heels for tonight's acts. Honey-Bee was trying on her wings, smiling like a pixie in the mirror. She saw him, and winked.

Tinman grinned like a fool, until Lion elbowed him in the stomach. “Come the fuck on. We got work. There'll be pussy aplenty waiting to ride our cocks when we're full patch.”

I stopped a snicker. It was good to have some comic relief, and I needed it in spades after I'd just had an a-bomb dropped on my brain.

We headed through the narrow backstage corridor leading to the bar so she could get me something to drink. Out in the club itself, it wasn't terribly busy. I was grateful for that – too much noise or too many glances from gross, horny men would've roiled my stomach even more.

“Come on. I think O'Brien keeps some good mineral water back here in the bar for drinks.” Meg dipped into the small bar while I stood next to her, nervously scanning the crowd.

That feeling I used to get in the pit of my stomach, right before something dark and ugly hit me in the face, surged like a heavy wave.

I should've seen him coming.

Somehow, the asshole got past my bodyguards. He was on top of me before I knew what was happening, screaming in my face.

“You goddamned stupid fuckin' bitch! You see the shit you did to me? Take a nice, long look!” Tony Pearson's face roared, only inches from mine, big and red and loud as a fire alarm going full crash.

He stank like strong whiskey. The only smell I'd ever associate with him, except now there was another odor, something like antibiotic and medical tape that hadn't been changed for a few days.

I squinted through the darkness, staring at the huge band of white wrapped around his chest, underneath his cheap leather jacket. “Let me go. Do it now, before you really mess up.”

I decided to be tough, the pregnancy test only minutes before giving me crazy courage. Too bad he wasn't having it.

The bastard slapped me. So hard my head spun, and I saw stars.

He grabbed me, nostrils flaring. “Where you been hiding yourself? Tri-Cities or some shit? I've been all over town trying to spot your ass, find out where you and that biker asshole disappeared to. Goddamned
knew
you'd show your whore face here if I waited long enough. I was fucking right!”

I clawed at his wrist, barely stopping another blow, digging my nails in until I drew blood.

“F-Fuck! Fucking bitch! Just you wait, Cora-Bora! You know they took my Billy away after this goddamned bar fight? Cunt of an ex just up and grabbed him. My own fuckin' son – said I was an irresponsible piece of shit – and it's
your fault!
Fuck you!” he snarled, grabbing me by the throat.

“Been waiting for you, teacher-bitch-whore. Gonna turn your cunt over to get throttled day in, and day out. Gonna raze this fuckin' place to the goddamned ground for what you assholes did to me, make sure that fucker who stomped me gets his neck broke. Gonna hear you scream how sorry you are! But it'll be too late. It'll be too –“

“Oh my God!” Meg's scream froze him mid-sentence. She'd finally caught up to us. The thick glass of water she'd brought me slammed into Tony's skull.

“Fuck!” he swore, ripped his hands off me, and went for Meg.

Several drunkards near the front stage came stumbling back, ready to join the fight, or at least gawk at the new entertainment. Lion and Tinman finally woke up and raced ahead of the crowd, shoving several boozers out of the way.

I crouched on the floor, reaching for a shard of broken glass to protect myself.

Never again,
I told myself.
I'll never let myself be ambushed and abused like this. I'm fighting for more than just myself now.

Tony swung wildly at Meg, missing every time. I was ready to spring up and slam the glass into the back of his neck. One more second, and thankfully, it wasn't necessary.

The two big men hit Tony like a rocket, knocking him to the floor. They whaled on him, using the bandages wrapped around him like a target. Kicking, punching, drawing blood.

“Idiots! Where were you?!” Meg screamed as two pot bellied bouncers came trotting up behind us. Then she gave the prospects a sharp look. “Let him go. We can't have a murder here, however much he deserves it. We're going to throw him out, and this time, he's on his own for finding a fucking ambulance. I want Tim and Roger to do it. Better that nobody outside sees Pistols colors doing the shit-kicking.”

She looked at me, stepped forward, and threw her arms around my neck. “Jesus, Cora, I'm so fucking sorry. We should've done a better job keeping him from coming back.”

“Not your fault,” I said, letting the glass slip from my hand. It thudded on the floor. “Really.”

“No, no, you wait right here at the bar. I'm going to have Lion and Tin stay with you, and you're going to get some water into your system, girl. I won't let you walk out of here sick
and
scared for your life.”

Meg sat me down at one of the bar benches, moving with a speed that would've impressed a bartender. If only she knew it wasn't my life I worried about the most.

My hands moved tenderly across my belly. My son, my daughter, my baby quickened in me, the brightest light I'd seen yet in this long, dark tunnel I'd been forced to walk through.

I had to keep it safe. I'd get myself healthy, let Laynie give me a checkup, without letting her onto the pregnancy yet. Then we'd head back to Hannah's place so I could get some rest.

I'd ride out the rest of this nightmare in the big, comfy bed I already missed sharing with my man. The words to break the news to him would come, once I was in my right mind.

I had faith.

* * * *

T
he rest of my time at the Heel blurred by. Not surprisingly, Meg was pulled away by a couple officers who'd come to find out about the fight, whenever the paramedics picked up Tony for the second time.

I hoped to hell I'd never have to watch his drunken, worthless ass get kicked by anyone with a Deadly Pistols patch again. I'd settle for never seeing him.

I nursed my water through the whole exam with Laynie.

She asked me about symptoms. I gave her the usual run-through for a stomach bug. Sudden onset, cramps, fever, vomiting.

The older woman calmly told me to get some more fluids, preferably something with electrolytes, before I started in on re-introducing simple foods. I nodded, thanked her, and stood up, hopeful I wouldn't have to use the club's bathroom again before we left.

I was too sick to ride with them on their bikes, so Lion drove the truck, while Tinman rode on ahead of us. Kind of a relief.

Only one man's bike made me feel whole. I didn't want to ride with anyone else, long as I lived. When the wind was in our faces and I was snug against him, my hands wrapped around his hard, magnificent abs, I was alive.

I missed it. I missed him. We were halfway out of Knoxville, heading along the winding shortcut to Hannah's place, when I turned to Lion and asked.

“So, is there any news?”

“That's club business,” he growled, giving me a knowing glance. “I can tell you your old man calls every day to check up. Two, maybe three times. Makes damned sure you're safe and sound. You've got nothing to worry about, little mama.”

“Little mama?” My eyebrows shot up, way more annoyed at the nickname than I should have been.

Oh, God. Could he possibly know?

Lion coughed. “Uh, sorry. Habit. You look like some chick I used to know.”

Without saying anything more, he pulled out a cigarette. I panicked, started coughing before he'd lit it, and exaggerated slumping against my window.

“Oh, crap, I'm really sorry. My stomach still hurts. I don't think I can take the smell right now.”

He scratched his beard, gave me an understanding smile, and stuffed the fresh stick into his pocket. Thank God. With this baby in me, I wasn't taking any chances.

“Gotcha. Tell you what, I'll keep all that shit outta your hair when we're back at the house. Tin and I take shifts anyway. You won't get a single whiff of anything but fucking potpourri.”

I laughed. He was a good man, or else just crazy desperate to earn his bottom rocker. Hearing a big, rough biker talking about potpourri seemed so out of place.

Almost as much as the big blockade we nearly crashed through a second later. My hands darted out and hit the dash as he slammed on the breaks.

It came up so fast for Tinman that he slid, turning his bike to the side.

“Fuck. Sorry,” he said, rolling down his window to call to his brother. “What the fuck's going on out there? I see the whole damned road's closed off, but I'm not seeing any fuckers directing traffic.”

“No fuckin' detour signs neither!” Tin yelled back.

The hand cupped over his mouth to amplify shifted to his brow, and he stared into the woods off to the side, sensing something. Lion had his seat belt off, reaching for his gun, when the first evil looking bastard stepped out of the brush.

“Fucking prospects,” a big man with a long jaw snorted, his colors different, somehow dirtier than the Deadly Pistols. “Don't you assholes know you don't shoot when you're completely surrounded?”

“Fuck you!” Tinman shouted, ready to fire.

Another man rammed a shotgun into his back before he could pull the trigger.

I covered my mouth, trying not to scream. I was fully expecting to see the poor prospect get sliced in two by gunfire. By some miracle, nobody let their bullets go – yet.

I held my breath. A big, mean bastard with a ginger beard and a scarred face came stepping out next to the first man, wearing a similar cut.

“Good man, Sharp. Get their fucking weapons. All of 'em. We ain't taking no chances with these crazy motherfuckers after Dusty slashed his fucking throat on my knife.”

Another man came to my door, ripped it open, and began pulling me out. He was big, bald, and mean. He made sure to dig his hand into my breast when he got hold. He spun me around, and I finally saw the back of the leader, a flaming black torch with crossbones underneath it sewn on his back.

TORCHES MC, GEORGIA, it said.

I wanted to scream.

Before I could, the bastard holding me clapped his hand over my mouth. He carried me out to the small group forming in the middle of the road.

“This the bitch, Prez? Hot little thing. Gonna fetch us a pretty penny to recoup her daddy's losses, and then some!”

This can't be happening. Somebody help me!

I looked at the prospects in horror. Tinman was down on his knees, shaking with rage while the Torches bound his hands.

Lion cracked first. He pushed the two snakes holding him, wheeled around before they could take his gun, and fired.

One of the bastards took a shot right through the shoulder. The man screamed, using his last energy to ram Lion in the stomach, before he crumpled to the ground.

“Sharp!” Red Beard screamed.