Never Love an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (17 page)

“Send one of the prospects out to the garage right now. There's a black bag out there, next to my bike. I was saving it to bring to your office privately, Prez, but since you want all this shit out in the open...”

Dust's eyes widened with dark amusement.
You'd better not be fucking with me,
they said.

He looked at Crawl. “Step outside and tell Lion to bring us whatever the fuck he's talking about. Hurry up!”

Everybody waited while our brother opened the door and said a few words to the prospects standing guard. Lion and Tinman both took off, returning a minute later. The Prez saw Lion's scruffy face holding my leather saddlebag, sagging with the shit I'd stuffed in it.

“Come on, up on the table,” Dust ordered, waving him forward. As soon as the prospect dropped the bag, he gave him another wave, and Crawl shut the door behind him, locking them both out 'til they'd earned their bottom rockers.

“Go on. Open it. It's not a full quarter million, but it's a sign of good faith. This club's all I think about, Prez. Here's your proof that's true. I
won't
let us walk away with our pockets hanging out, and I'm not gonna stand here and listen to the shit that's being talked about me.”

“Firefly.”

Soon as the Prez said his name, the Enforcer moved, ripping open the zipper. His eyes bugged out when he saw the fat stacks of cash spilling out on the table, mostly smaller bills like fifties and twenties, mingled with hundreds.

It was a complete fucking mess. I wasn't sure how the hell the pimp counted it. Hell, maybe he'd been too drugged up when the Deads dropped off his down payment for Meg, or else too busy shitting his pants.

He'd done enough of that before I blew his worthless brains out. I took a quick estimate and pegged it around twenty-five thousand. There'd been twice as much to start, but I'd divided that and given it to the whores when I opened up their rooms to deliver their pink slips.

Sure, they might go out and blow the shit on street smack, but at least it'd get them outta that rat's nest and into the city. The closer I got them to the shelter listed on that paper, the better.

Dust pushed Firefly and the other boys aside, reaching into my bag, pulling out fistfuls of cash and spreading it across our table.

“I'll be fucking hog-tied.” He was still fisting big stacks of bills when he spun around and looked at me. “Where the hell did you get this?”

“Settling accounts. The pimp had a payday twice as big as the shit we confiscated from him last week. That was his down payment for selling her off, and it's ours now.”

“Aw, shit.” Dust's fists dropped, holding the cash limply at his sides, shaking his head. “Don't tell me...you killed the stupid sonofabitch?”

“Yeah.” No sense in hiding it.

None of the men in this room were stupid, even if they couldn't crunch numbers or cloak our operations from the Feds like I could.

“Fuck me alive.”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later. You know it, Prez, and so do I.” I swallowed, preparing for the biggest gamble yet. “The fucker was tight with the Deads. He was a cash cow, besides being a walking sewer. I don't regret a damned thing. I brought the club some red meat and buried his carcass in the usual place, where nobody'll find his bones for a hundred years. Sure, the fucks from Georgia will notice he's missing, but they're coming for us anyway sooner or later, after what happened to their guys...”

Sixty, Crawl, and I shared an uneasy look. I wasn't gonna say anything more about that and blow their cover, even though the Prez had probably figured it out.

“This is going in the club coffers,” Dust said slowly, the anger in his eyes receding. “You've earned yourself another chance – one week. That's all I'm giving you. I swear on my father's patch, Skin, if you fuck us over, and don't get us the rest of what we're owed from this gal, I'll send the guys to pick her up and drag her ass back here, kicking and screaming.”

He stared right through me to the wall, where we had old photos and trophies framed for the club. His old man's cut hung there, patch facing out, one more relic among many in all the glories the Deadly Pistols had lived and lost.

“We've got about enough here to start another girlie bar, this time in Knoxville city limits. I'm going with the business plan I should've let you talk me into the first time. Whatever else happens, we'll do this shit right. This is our second chance. I'm not pissing it away.” The Prez stepped up, looking me dead in the eye. “If you fuck us over, Skin, if your
toy
fucks us over, I swear to Christ I'll make her work off every single red cent she owes. Don't think I haven't noticed what you're fucking. She's got the tits and ass to be a slut. She'll be the first chick we put to work shaking what she's made of, seven days a week, even if we have to put a kinky mask over her face to keep any nosy assholes from noticing who she is. If she doesn't pay up, mark my words, she's
ours.
Club property.”

Asshole.
I didn't say it to his face, despite the anger howling through me. I was too busy thinking about how bad I wanted to make her my property. Mine, mine, and mine alone.

Joker's knife pulled away from my neck. I instinctively reached up and rubbed the impression he'd left, smearing a tiny blotch of rusty blood between my fingers.

“One week, Skin. That's all you get.” The Veep's dead eyes were more lively than usual. Creepy as a hungry fucking snake. “I'm game for bringing her back here and putting her to work myself. Nobody fucks this club. Not even the men who've given it their blood.”

Firefly still looked like a bull ready to charge, but his rage was deflating too. With a heavy sigh, he turned his back and walked to his spot, ripping his chair out to sit.

“Prez, with your approval, let's sit down and call a vote like gentlemen. I'll let this fucking guy live another week and set his girl free. He's bound by the club rules – they both are. Skin here's done some stupid shit, but he ain't a rat.” He looked over the ranks of brothers, ending with me. “Trust is all we've got when we're outnumbered three to one by the Deads. He's right about one thing – they're coming. And they damned sure will rip our heads off in a heartbeat if we're fighting each other.”

The Prez nodded. Everybody followed his lead as we headed for our seats.

The vote went fast, the yeas rolling in one by one, unanimous.

When it was my turn, I only had Meg on my mind, hoping to high hell I wasn't making the biggest mistake of my life.

“Start packing,” I growled, kicking the door shut behind me.

Meg flashed me a smile. I'd caught her walking outta the shower, a towel wrapped tight around her, tempting me to tear it off.

She shifted her weight, forcing me to see the contour of her hips. “You mean you're taking me out to dinner tonight? What, are we dating now, or something?”

The girl winked, and my blood turned into fire.

Fuck.
My dick remembered everything we'd done last night, everything she had waiting beneath that flimsy little towel. I'd fucked her for hours after I spilled my seed inside her the first time, and it still wasn't enough.

I wanted more. I wanted it so damned bad I had to fight with everything I had to shut down the instinct to march over, strip her bare, and fuck us both seven ways stupid.

But I didn't do goodbye fucks. Especially when I'd finally gotten the clearance to get her home without any huge hangups. I had to do it
now,
before the Prez changed his mind, or Joker helped him in all his ruthlessness.

“You heard me, woman,” I said, turning away from the beautiful sight in front of me and ripping open the closet. I pulled out all her new clothes and began throwing them on the bed, wondering if she'd want any of this shit once she was with her rich family again.

“Jesus, Skin! Slow down.” Next thing I knew, she stood next to me, tugging on my arm. “Why can't we talk like normal people? Tell me what's going on?”

There wasn't any time for that. As soon as I had her outfits laid out, I grabbed an old bag from cleaning my cut, and started to throw her shit in there, leaving her a pair of jeans and a tank top to change into.

“I said, you heard me. You're going home. Nothing else to say.”

Her jaw dropped. Her big blue eyes became wide moons in front of me, moons I'd stared into last night while we fucked, her chestnut hair tangled between my fingers.

My dick begged me to slow down, and so did her expression. But I wasn't listening to either of them. This mission couldn't wait, dammit, and nothing was getting in my way when I had a chance to get her to total safety.

“I don't understand, Skin. It can't be that easy.”

“Things change, babe.” I shrugged, tying the bag shut, ignoring her. “Quit acting like you're all upset. This is everything we've been waiting for since I dragged you to the clubhouse. I'd be a damned fool to give it up, and so would you.”

“Home...” she repeated the word like she needed to just to grasp the meaning again. “Holy shit. What will I tell my parents? I still haven't figured anything out. I mean, I had some ideas, but I woke up so late after last night, and none of them are very good.”

“You'll have a week tops to sort that shit out in the comfort of your own home,” I said, grabbing her by the wrist. I led her into the bathroom and set her change of clothes on the toilet next to her, stepping outside with my back turned while she changed.

Fuck, my eyes burned knowing she was naked behind me. I heard her clothes rustling slowly, as if it took her massive energy just to move.

I couldn't turn around, no matter how much my body begged me. If I gave in and saw her in the nude again, I'd want to keep her here forever. I sure as shit wouldn't let her leave without one more fuck, one more fiery, passionate fling on the bed next to me, grabbing her sweet ass and shaking her 'til she almost broke while I slammed myself in so deep my balls bruised her.

My fists tensed at my sides. Lucky for her, she didn't have a thing to worry about.

I wasn't gonna fuck her and send her home with an even more screwed up head. Just like I wasn't gonna look her in the eye right now and let her see what she'd done to me, turning me into a lustful, possessive mess.

Me,
Skin, the rock hard motherfucker who never got attached to any pussy. I'd always been the man to fuck and forget. Hell, I
still
was that guy, it was just harder this time, because I'd spent more time having her in my bed than most girls.

“You have to tell me what's changed. What's the catch?” Her voice darkened.

I turned around and faced the only woman I'd slept with as opposed to just fucking. The only woman I'd dreamed about wearing my brand, and maybe the only chick this side of Nashville who never fucking would.

“Prez had a change of heart. I convinced him. It isn't right to hold you here like our personal cash cow. Lord knows you've had enough of that shit.” She folded her arms, shooting me a skeptical look through all her shock.

The girl wasn't stupid. Shit, that made me want to fuck her more, hard enough to rattle the brains in her pretty head.

“You're expected to deliver the money, babe. That shit hasn't changed. Quarter million, solid, straight from your folks.” I gave her my coldest look, trying to make her realize how serious it was without scaring her. “Consider it a finder's fee, the price of rescue, operating costs, whatever the fuck you want. Truth is, everybody knows what's on the line here. The club's interest in the reward money is the same it always was. Big difference is, now you've got a chance to get it over to us while you start to put your life back together. Come on, I know your family's rich. Two hundred and fifty big's a drop in the damned bucket, isn't it?”

She cocked her head. “Okay, fair enough. And what happens if my parents say no, Skin? What if the police ask too many questions? What if I can't convince them?”

I had a crystal clear vision of everything Dust told me. I saw myself being held down by all the brothers and punched in the face, over and over 'til Joker broke my nose, plus a few ribs. They'd have to beat me stupid to make me stand down while they pulled her outta her house and forced her back into slavery, this time shaking that killer ass for grubby motherfuckers in our nudie bar.

No, no, fuck no. I won't let that happen.

“You'll pay your debt one way or another,” I growled, looking around the room for anything else she'd left behind. I saw her mystery magazine and threw it in the bag too, plus a bottle of water for the road.

“What's that supposed to mean? Should I be worried? Looking over my shoulder?” Her questions ended in a hiss of resignation. “Just tell me one thing...are you actually setting me free, or not? I can't tell.”

Shit.
I didn't say anything for several seconds, not 'til I turned and handed her the heavy bag.

“Make sure everything's in there. Next stop is my bike so I can take you home.” Her face wilted, and she nodded glumly as she realized I wasn't gonna tell her shit. Not before we got outside, anyway.

When her bag was stuffed into my Harley's trunk and I handed her the helmet, I let it spill. None of the brothers were around to hear shit, but I still would've said it, even if they were.

“Babe, I'm dead serious about you figuring out the reward. I threw the club a bone to get them off your ass, but they're gonna be right back on it soon if you delay too long. Here's a burner.” I reached into my pocket, and passed her a cheap pre-paid flip phone, the kind we always used for jobs that had to stay anonymous. “You call me anytime. Any trouble, any update, or when you've got the cash, ready to go. And yeah, it's gotta be cash, stacked up neatly in a briefcase or thrown into a damned barrel. I don't give a shit. Just get it to me, and you'll never hear from me again.”

“Understood.” She took the phone and pinched her eyes shut. I couldn't tell if she was sick from the renewed worries I'd just given her, or if it seriously hurt her to think about a life without me.

I inwardly snorted.
Dream on, you poor, lovestruck bastard.