Never Love an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (20 page)

“Can you keep a secret?” I said, leaning closer to her.

“Swear on my life.” She held up a hand, and for the first time I saw the giant stone on her finger, probably an engagement ring from Crawford.

“You aren't wrong. A wonderful man saved me, but he's into some bad stuff. I couldn't tell the media or the police to keep him safe. I owe him my life. I owe him everything for getting me away from the bastard who sold me. He's the only reason this is all over.”

Over.
I couldn't believe it really was, but I said the word with finality and impact. Becky stared wide-eyed, probably imagining a small glimpse of the way they'd used me.

“You've always been there for me, and I know you'll keep it hush.” I reached across the table, snatched her hand, and waited until I saw her nod. “I also need you to do me a favor. A big one. It's a secret, Becks.”

“Okay.”

For a second, she straightened her back, looking around to make sure nobody else would hear. Then I watched her slide off her seat and sit down next to me, her ear close to my mouth.

“That pretty pink Camaro wasn't a gift from Crawdaddy like the ring, right?”

“No.” She shook her head.

Good. Then she won't actually miss it when I smash the lovely thing to bits.

I left her at the nearby gas station before I drove toward the park. Knoxville's sunsphere flashed by, tucked beneath the high rises along the skyline. I drove recklessly, ready for what I had to do, praying it wouldn't leave me seriously hurt and twisted.

But I'd risk anything to get out of this. Anything to get back to him.

I couldn't believe she'd actually agreed. I'd laid my heart on the line. I promised her it wouldn't hurt.

Opening up hurt, but I did it to be convincing. I told her about Ricky and all the Johns who'd fucked my mouth. I told her about the night the Deads came for me, how they'd nearly forced me in the hotel, and how Skin and his crew had killed them all at the last second.

I told her about the way he'd grown on me, the passion when we fucked, the insane love I suddenly had for this bestial, irresistible man. I'd actually used the L-word too. Once when I told her about the feelings Skin gave me, and again when I told her how worried I was about him, how he had obligations in the underworld that had to be met at any cost.

He needed a quarter million, for his own good, and for mine. And I needed to count on my best friend to trust I wasn't crazy and loan me her car, promising I'd get her something better as a wedding present.

Somehow, some way, we'd make this work. We had to. This crazy fucking plan was all I had, and it was a miracle she'd agreed.

She had tears in her eyes when she handed me the keys, asking me if I was sure about it for the dozenth time. Each time, I nodded coldly, refusing to entertain any second guesses as I climbed into the driver's seat.

The amazing car must've cost at least a hundred grand with all its custom features. A little less than half of what I needed from my trust fund. But if I could get Dad to open it once, then it wouldn't take much to squeeze a little more out.

I knew my grandparents left me at least a couple million. Paying for tuition out of it had barely depleted anything when I'd snuck peeks at the statements. Everything I'd need to live a sheltered, pampered life for the rest of my days – the life I didn't want with Skin.

He'd shown me something different, and he was worth the risk. I was ready to throw it all away, anything to help him, whatever it took to get me face to face with the only man on the planet who'd made me feel whole.

And I did.

When I saw the big oak tree near the pond, I lined up the car. My foot pounded the accelerator and refused to let up. I'd barely had ten minutes to get used to it on the streets, and now the speed floored me.

I never saw what happened to the front of the car. The airbags deployed a split second before I blacked out and the entire world started spinning.

In my fragmented daze, I saw Skin, beautiful Skin. I pressed my lips to the scar lining his cheek and dug my nails into his back. I kissed him long and hard, waiting to be reunited, aching for him through the flashes of sirens and voices and then the soft murmur of a doctor standing over me.

His lips moved across mine, reminding me of everything I'd missed, and why. These lips made me ache. These lips teased and commanded. These lips were the only ones I wanted to think about kissing for the rest of my life, even if they turned my whole world upside down one more time.

Even if they made me crazy. Even if they killed me.

I love you, Skin. I really do. Call me insane, delirious, or damaged, but it's true.

I imagined saying those words and looking into his deep, dark eyes. A smile tugged at his rogue lips, but before he could say anything, the black wave behind him crashed over us, pulling me into nothing.

I woke up the next day with a terrible headache, but no worse for wear. Daddy stood over my bed with a mortified look on his face. An elderly doctor came in and said a few words, told me I ought to thank my lucky stars that I hadn't broken anything.

The accident only left a small bruise on my collarbone and some sore muscles, besides the pounding headache.

Dad's concern overpowered everything at first. He sat with me quietly for the next couple hours, through one more scan, until they decided I was good to go.

He waited until we were in his car to open up on me.

“Start packing your bags when we get home, dear. Your mother and I have decided you're beyond our help. We've been patient – too patient, I fear. No more.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he shushed me with a finger to his lips. “Don't, baby. You're messed up and it's not your fault, I get that. I'd be a devil for expecting you to be any other way after you suffered with those demons. But I can't sit by while the police are knocking on my office door every other damned day and my only daughter's trying to kill herself! Becky told us what happened.”

For the first time, fear stabbed at my heart.

“She did?” I swallowed, balling my fists so tight it hurt, praying my best friend hadn't betrayed me.

“Yes, and I hope you're very thankful for wonderful friends like her. She said she forgives you for hijacking her car. The poor thing barely drove it off the dealer's lot a month ago, you know. I'm not going to drag you on a guilt trip, Megan, but we're all lucky she's decided to turn the other cheek without pressing charges.”

I let out a long sigh of relief. Jesus. She'd saved me, sticking to the alibi we carefully concocted in the cafe, before I dropped her at the gas station and took the hot pink Camaro on its last fateful ride.

“Okay, whatever you say, Dad. Let's set something up. I'll spend a week at the spa talking to whatever shrinks you want me to. I'll tell them everything. I won't come back until I'm fixed.”

He looked at me, his eyes softening. “I'm glad to hear you say that.”

We shared a soft, understanding look. The last one I allowed before I let the pain rip me in two. My face contorted so hard it hurt. I barely had my palms over my eyes before the hot, poison tears streamed out in waves.

“Oh, honey. No, no, no, it's going to be okay,” Daddy said, bringing a hand to my shoulder. “What is it? You're scared?”

I shook my head, voice cracking through the tears. The  hurt was all authentic, a little slice of everything I'd suffered over the last year, but I was using it strategically for the next step in my plan.

There'd be time to feel guilty about that later. Right now, I needed the money, and I absolutely
had
to see Skin.

“No, Daddy. It's not that. I just can't believe I wrecked her car!” I looked up and grabbed his arm. “Stop with the sympathy. I'm tired of everyone treating me like a wounded pet since I came home. You saw what I did – I went crazy. I lashed out. I completely fucking ruined my best friend's car, and she's going to hate me forever!”

Cue more shrill blubbering. The f-bomb caught him by surprise too. I watched Dad struggle for composure for the next few miles up to our house.

“God, what I disaster I am. I just wish there were some way to make it up to her, some way to repay all the kindness she's shown me...”

As we pulled through the gate, I really lost it, crying my eyes out. I wanted a response, damn it, preferably one that was open to the idea of undoing all this damage.

“Meg, stop,” he said sharply, pulling into our big ten car garage. “I can't believe you're worried about money. Have you forgotten we always take care of our debts? This family never lets anybody down who's done us a kindness. We're Wilders, after all. Here, let's go into my office.”

Nodding glumly, I followed him. We went inside and headed straight for his study with the fireplace and the tall walnut shelves, the same place he used to read me stories as a kid. Maybe I had a pang of guilt that second, standing there while he rummaged around in his desk drawer, but it wouldn't stop me.

I'm sorry, Dad. You'll understand one day. We both will, if everything goes the way I'm expecting.

I watched him pull out his check book and some paperwork with our attorney's logo. “Now, how much do you think it'll take to put things right with Becky? That was a custom model, wasn't it? Let's say, a hundred and fifty thousand, drawn straight from your trust?”

More than I expected,
I thought with a sigh.
But not enough.

“Actually,” I sniffed, blotting at my eyes as he handed me a tissue. “Becky told me she paid over two hundred grand. And she said something about tax troubles with her mom, I don't really know, something about taking all of her money in cash.”

“Cash?” Dad's eyes went wide. “My, I didn't realize Harold and Penelope were in that kind of trouble. Are you really asking me to pull money out of your account and hand it over to her in a briefcase or something like a mafia don?”

I flashed an uneasy smile.
Close enough.

“I'm sorry, I just think it'll be easier this way. I don't want any more screw ups. She's sticking by me, and I'll be
devastated
if I lose my only friend right now. Please don't spend a dime of your own money. Take it all from my account. Let's make it an even quarter million.”

He cocked his head. “That's a lot for a low-end luxury ride with all the bells and whistles. Are you sure, Megan?”

“Cross my heart. I want her to have more than she needs, anything to show her I'm serious about her friendship. She needs to see how
sorry
I am.” I sat down in the chair, satisfaction and guilt mingling in my blood as Dad sighed, ran a hand over his face, and slowly folded.

“All right. We'll grab it tomorrow and I'll drop you off for lunch – you're sure not driving yourself. But after the interview with the detective this week, you're on your way to therapy for the rest of the month. That's the deal. Got it?”

“Of course.” I smiled. “Say, maybe when I'm better again, I can handle my own affairs? I know you've been giving me access to the funds when I really need them, but it makes me feel like a kid. Granpda said –“

“I know what your grandfather said, Megan. It's your money.” He clenched his teeth. “And yes, it's abundantly clear to me now that you're not the same girl you were when that man took you away from us. But as for who or what you've become...well, I think we're both figuring that out. Fair?”

“Fair,” I repeated, looking at the ground.

He'd come around sooner or later. I'd have the money I needed for Skin tomorrow, and then I'd work on flying right so I could get the rest to actually repay Becky. Of course, the stuff about her family having tax trouble was a little white lie – it was quite the opposite.

I half-expected her to pull up to the cafe in a flashy new car. The money I threw at her in another month or two to replace the car would just go toward her elaborate wedding, and hopefully show Crawford he was with the right woman for life.

The day went fast. I went to the bank with Dad in the morning and got my cash. The tellers took nearly an hour to make sure it was all there, processing the jumbo cash order and filing it neatly in a cheap leather duffel bag we'd picked out.

Then it was off to lunch with Becky. She squealed when she saw me and ordered us desserts, skipping the healthier fare completely.

This time, talking to her was a lot more like old times, two young women scheming over men and mischief. I danced around who exactly Skin was, and what he did for a living.

Hell, I didn't actually know. I knew the club was tight on cash, which was why getting this to him was so serious, but he had to earn money some way, didn't he? They all did, and it couldn't be legal.

We parted on good terms. I promised her I'd have the money as soon as possible, and she told me to drop it off when I could make a day of it. I owed her a date to look at wedding dresses.

After lunch, my father picked me up and brought me home, with just a brief warning Detective Numbnuts was waiting for me. I pretended the bag stuffed with cash underneath my feet was empty. Thankfully, Daddy was totally oblivious, too caught up in having this agent at his house once again to check.

We sat down at the kitchen table with Harlow. He brought out his camera for the third time, and I repeated my story verbatim.

Kidnapped. Forced. Abused. Escaped.

No bikers. No handsome, dangerous men named Skin. No accomplices for the dead pimp from the Deadhands MC. No devils who'd murder the man I'd fallen for if I didn't get him his cold, hard cash.

For a detective, he didn't hide his frustration well. “I'm going to review the files again, Miss Wilder. If I find any discrepancies, rest assured our next chat will be taking place down at the station, rather than in the comfort of your own home.”

Daddy shot up like a bolt of lightning. “Are you really threatening my daughter with a prison interrogation in my own house? Sir, I'll remind you who was the top contributor to the Senior Senator from the great state of Tennessee last year – you're looking at him. Don't make me get some calls flying back and forth between Washington and FBI headquarters. We wouldn't want to soil the nice, professional relationship here. But I'll do what I need to, if you leave me no choice.”