Never Love an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (10 page)

Fuck me. I'd given her enough shocks today, but what was one more?

Maybe the crude whiskey had more booze in it than I realized, or it was some sick combination of the long trip, the shootout, and taking this girl hostage. Whatever the fuck it was, I couldn't stand up.

She whimpered as I collapsed, crashing to the ground next to her.

A boot to the ribs woke me up. I jerked awake and rolled, my head pounding, using the adrenaline surge to slough off the hangover and reach for the switchblade I always kept on me.

Who the fuck was kicking me in my own damned room? If anybody wanted to come after me or Meg, I'd shred them wide open before they got in a second blow. I bolted up.

By the time I opened my eyes, I was crouched on one knee, my blade ready to disembowel the Prez.

“Shit!” I lowered it, ready to kick my own ass for my mistake.

He booted me again.

This time, I didn't fight. I fucking deserved it. Every swift, brutal, rib bruising crack.

“You stupid sonofabitch,” Dust growled, motioning to Joker at his side. “Get him on the bed. Let's decide whether he deserves a chance to spill his guts about what the hell's going on before we gut him for real.”

“Shit, come on! You've gotta listen to me, she's not what she looks like. I brought her here for a good reason, Prez, honest-to-God, I did!”

He wasn't listening. Not while the bulldog faced Veep raised me up and slammed me on my crappy bed. I heard Meg let out a scream behind them, cowering in the same corner where I'd left her.

I hated myself for putting her through
more
fucking violence after I'd tried to deliver her from it. Of course, my brothers would never hurt her.

None of us were black hearted bastards like the Deads. But they wouldn't hesitate to beat my ass to a bloody pulp in front of her if that's what they decided I deserved.

The Prez leered over me, his gray eyes searching, wrapping his hand around my throat. He squeezed so hard my windpipe pinched shut. I couldn't breathe. Rage creased his face, and the black stubble on his chin made him like a cactus sent to tear the life outta me.

“I practically had to rip this place apart to find out what the fuck happened. I promised the brothers I'd give you one chance, and one chance
only
, to talk. In my office.
Now.
” His hand pulled away and I jerked on the bed.

Sweet release. I inhaled so hard it started a coughing fit when he finally released me. Joker tore me up before I could get air back into my system. They weren't fucking around as they hauled me out of the room.

We marched past Firefly, who just looked at me and shook his big head.
You poor, miserable bastard.

His expression said it all.

“Keep an eye on this whore,” the Prez growled to him on the way out. “I don't know this chick from Eve, and there's no telling what she'll do. We don't need anymore goddamned problems, especially if she's a Deads' slut.”

The Enforcer nodded. I looked past him, locking eyes with Meg for about two seconds. She was still staring at me as the Veep dragged me out, daggers and disappointment in her eyes.

Sixty, Crawl, and the prospects wisely kept their distance from the ruckus in the back. I was all alone when Dust kicked his door open. Joker dragged me in, hurling me into the chair across from Dust's beat up desk.

The Veep marched over to the door and stood guard while I sat up, coming face-to-face with my very pissed off Prez. I folded my arms, matching the intensity.

He wanted to skewer me, and I didn't blame him. But he didn't know shit. I'd tell him everything, explain why I put my ass on the line for this woman – or at least give him one good reason for involving the entire club.

“I never expected this from
you,
” Dust began, sinking down into his seat. “You're supposed to be our brains, at least when it comes to numbers. For fuck's sake –
three
motherfuckers you put in coffins today. Three! And I want to believe there's a damned good reason behind it.”

“That's what I want to get to, Prez, if you'll just let me explain –“

“No.” He held up a hand lined with thick, brutal looking rings on every finger “Not yet. How'd you manage it? You've never dropped that many bastards on your own. Something tells me Sixty and Crawl were in on this too.”

Shit.
I put all my energy into not letting my eyes wander from his iron stare. He was probing me, trying to decide if he ought to put the other two into the fire with me.

I couldn't let that happen. Not when I'd served them an IOU in blood.

“They're innocent. This is all on me, Prez. It wasn't as hard as you'd think. I shook down the pimp for intel, same fucking place where I met the girl. He's the one who sold her, passed her along to the Deads for transport to some fuck past Charlotte who bought the rights to her pussy. I went after them, and hit 'em just in time. Found them at a shitty motel. They were drunk, blazed outta their minds, not in any condition to fight. I'm surprised they didn't wreck their bikes on the drive down there. I'm not gonna pretend to be the meanest fighter in this club, but it was like shooting fish in a barrel. No lie.”

Joker snorted over in the corner. “You really expect us to believe you're a cowboy, Skin? My little sister couldn't have piled up a bigger load of bullshit.”

He actually sounded pissed. Surprising for the man who never let his guard down, hardly ever cracked his tight-wound, rock solid exterior, whether he was in the thick of battle, or dragging some whore to bed for the night in better times.

“He's right,” Dust said sharply. “I don't buy it, and that means you're in deep shit. So are your friends.”

“Go ahead and put them against the wall too!” I snarled. “Take out the three guys you need to call this MC a proper club. Shit, strip our patches and bury us in a ditch if you think we're all turning rat or defying orders. Prez, if you think I put this club in danger for nothing more than wanting to get my dick wet, you're dead wrong!”

“That's exactly what I think.” Dust leaned back in his chair, cracking his knuckles. “You've always been soft, Skinny boy. That's why I kept you off the big runs, so you could be in the office, managing business. You're not a front-line fighter unless we're in deep shit. You're our support, our rock, too damned smart to wind up like your old man.”

I clenched my jaw when he mentioned Dad. Fucking shit, that cut deep.

Bad enough to hear him acting like I was a goddamned secretary, let alone pretend he was doing me some big fucking favor.

“I've been in a dozen firefights and I've spilled my share of blood for this pistol, Prez. Don't tell me you've forgotten? I was thinking about every single brother here when I decided to haul her home, put my ass on the line. I was doing my job, thinking about the numbers, the lifeblood of this club.” I paused, leaned forward, and spread my hands on his desk. “You think it's pussy that keeps me up all night? You're wrong. I know what keeps you up, though. You're wondering if we'll have enough in the vault next week to pay the boys their cut so they can keep themselves fed and fuel their bikes.”

“Bullshit. I've never made it a secret how much this club's lifeblood matters to me. Without cold, hard cash, we're fucked. You know it just as much as me, handling the reports.” He looked up, flashing a vicious smile. “Tell me something I don't already know, Skin, before I leave you alone in here with Joker.”

Fuck. I didn't need to turn my head and look at the Veep to know he was looking at me with sadistic anticipation.

Something wasn't right in that boy's head. He'd gone screwy when my old man was still breathing. Never knew from what.

“She's not just another whore. I wouldn't have pulled her outta Ricky's hole if that's all she was. I ain't completely stupid, or reckless, or fucking this club with my dick.” No, I wasn't. But the Prez didn't need to know I actually had a heart. “The pimp caught the girl and decided to sell her off months ago. She's got rich parents who are ready to pay up pretty damned handsomely for any info leading to her return. Ever heard of the Wilders in Knoxville?”

The Prez sat up like a dog catching wind of a juicy steak, but he kept his cool. “No. Can't say I have. How much money are we talking?”

“Quarter million. Pretty sure you could squeeze out more if you even give them a whiff you know something about their baby girl.”

“Fuck. That's a lot of scratch.” Dust leaned back in his chair, the wheels turning in his head so loud I could practically hear them grinding. “Tell me you've got a plan. We could drop her off at their doorstep tomorrow, but they're not gonna give that money to the Pistols MC, especially if the Feds are involved. Hell, Uncle Sam's glad we're almost out of commission. We're so far off their radar they barely even send goons to sniff around us anymore.”

I had to think fast. For a second, the Prez and Veep eyed me so hard I thought they'd set my cut on fire. Sweat beaded on my brow, but I didn't earn my name by getting stumped.

They called me Skin because I'd saved this club by the skin of its teeth more times than anybody could count, especially from the IRS. Those bastards combed everything, looking for any little misstep to shut us down. As long as I wore the Treasurer patch, they'd never find a goddamned shred of evidence.

“I'll convince her to play along. The girl only needs one hero – if I come forward and she's got my blessing, they won't be any wiser. It's probably her rich daddy who'll be handing off the money anyway. I'll smile for a press photo when they give me the check. I'll look nice and I'll be there as Parker – not Skin.”

I stopped. Perfect timing because the Prez was shaking his head, trying to hold in laughter or else keep his fist from flying into my face. I couldn't tell which.

“That's weak, brother. Even by your standards. I expected better.”

I shrugged. “Take it or leave it, Prez. We can talk about it in church, but I doubt the club's gonna come up with anything better. Me and this whore, we've built ourselves an understanding of sorts.”

That was a total lie. Sure, I'd given her my ring, and she'd looked at me at first like the only man who hadn't treated her like a total piece of meat. Then I'd ripped her out of the fire, only to throw her into mine.

I'd betrayed her. This whole idea was insane, if the Prez decided to give it a chance. I had no fucking clue if I could really convince her, ever repair the damage I'd done.

But there wasn't another choice. Joker grunted in the corner, holding in his dead tone sarcasm. The Prez just stared, ready to open up on me, but I knew he didn't want to do it when I had him by the balls.

He knew this was our only choice too, the best shot we'd had in forever to inject some lifeblood back into this club.

“Yeah? What kind of understanding is that? One where she doesn't pay you back for holding her ransom with a blowjob and hands over a couple hundred grand?”

“Go ahead and be cynical. I'll prove how wrong you are. No different than that time you decided to go all in with the chop shops, and I told you that much expansion would bring the whole house down.” I looked him dead in the eye. “I was right then, and it's no different now.”

His lips twitched as his hand moved, scraping his heavy metal rings across the table. He looked at Joker.

“Step aside so he can get to work. He's got three days to convince me this isn't just bullshit.” Slowly, Dust turned back to me, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “If I'm not convinced, I'm handling this myself. I don't give a shit who she is, or what we're putting on the line. The club needs cash, and we just landed ourselves a golden goose. Her parents
will
pay up one way or another, mark my fucking words. I'll use all the vinegar I've got if honey won't do the trick.”

Joker grinned, cold and artificial as ever. Creepy motherfucker.

I stood up, nodded, and put my hand out to the Prez. He could be a total bastard and a stubborn SOB at times, but he knew how to motivate a man.

I promised myself I wouldn't let anybody down while we shook hands. I wasn't in the business of making promises I couldn't keep, and this one wouldn't be the first I'd failed to honor. Didn't matter that this happened to be the biggest conundrum since I'd put on the patch.

My word was gold. Always. The broken dove holed up in my room wasn't gonna be the first to turn it into mud.

I rode into town and picked up a fresh change of clothes for her. The jeans and shirts I picked out were probably a size too big, but fuck if I knew anything about women's clothing.

She'd wear it. She'd be happy. And I'd put a choke chain around my cock the whole time, whatever it took to kill the urge to fuck her senseless.

No lie, it was gonna take a miracle. Every second I wasn't balls deep in her was torture. My skin bristled thinking about her pressed up against me on the long ride home, how soft and sweet she felt, how hot she'd be to haul into my bed and fuck, fuck, fuck 'til we lit the bed on fire.

The last stop was at a local burger stand for some grub. I'd seen the old pictures of her, back when she had some wicked curves. A selfish part of me wanted to help pad her again, get her healthy.

No surprise, the girl had lost some serious weight in the pimp's clutches. She was beautiful now, but there was a total knockout underneath the surface, a girl who'd make every man who passed her ache to get her under him.

'Course, I didn't wanna wait. I wanted her
now
.

Having to forget about all the nasty things I wanted to do to her while we slept in the same room tonight promised to be a special hell. I'd have to tie my hands behind my back if we shared a bed, otherwise they'd end up stripping off her clothes, spreading her legs, holding her open for my fingers, my tongue, every swollen inch of me.

I'd heard her whimper several times before. Whenever I imagined her doing it louder in bed, pressed up against me, my thunder stirred my blood. My cock raged in my pants, a nuclear fucking warhead threatening to blow my whole world apart if I didn't slam her into the nearest horizontal surface and fill her up.