Never Love an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (28 page)

“Sure hope it involves us getting this rich slut naked.” Snappy laughed, rubbing his hands together like a damned raccoon. The other bastards circling Meg like sharks chuckled too.

“Here, K-Man, hold the fucking camera for a second.” Big Vic handed off the camera to another henchman with a potbelly and pock marks all over his face. “Tell you what, Skin, since I bruised that shit in your head so hard, I'm gonna make it up to you. I'll let you help us decide what happens here.”

Oh, fuck. I wanted to puke before he finally lifted his leg, easing the savage pressure off my chest.

Big Vic took his sweet time. He looked at Meg, huddled on the ground with hatred in her bright blue eyes, and winked, before he turned his ugly face back to me.

“Bring the two love birds over. I need that damned brush cutter too.” He gave another greasy Dead a dark look as the man walked over and retrieved a big machete.

He waited while several Deads pulled Meg over, kicking and screaming, and dumped her off next to me. We were completely surrounded. Big Vic stepped in front of us, his evil fucking smile getting bigger all the time.

Christ, I couldn't wait to shoot him in the throat.

“You've got two choices, kids. In another minute, we're gonna roll some beautiful footage to send to Megan's folks. They're not gonna hesitate to drop a cool million off in the next twenty-four hours if they ever wanna see their bitch alive again. It's gotta be bad to make 'em do that.”

“Fuck, yes!” Snappy growled, grinding his teeth like he'd gone into rapture.

Animals. All of them. Sick fucking animals I've got to put down.

“First you, darlin'.” Snarling, he grabbed her by the chin, holding her face in his hand as she tried to struggle. “Option A – we record you taking our dicks in every hole, slapping your ass raw, choking you 'til you're blue in your face, all for mommy and daddy to see we mean fucking business.”

“You're already dead, and you don't even know it yet,” I growled. Every word stuck like heartbreak in my throat, bitter and full of blood, but I'd never meant anything more in my entire goddamned life.

Big Vic looked at me and grinned. “Yeah, I thought you'd say that, boy. So, here's Option B – we hand this bitch the machete and put a shotgun to her head. You put your hand out on the ground so she can give it a nice, clean cut. We watch her lose her fucking mind while she sees your miserable ass bleed out on the sweet Tennessee ground. If you live, you'll never ride a bike or grip a beer again. Sound good?”

Meg gasped. Her eyes went huge, filling with tears, but she still managed to look at me.

My eyes never wavered. I gave her a grim nod, knowing these motherfuckers would probably choose both options. But if I could get them to pick the one that prevented her from being totally destroyed, that bought us time, precious time, then I'd accomplish something here today.

“Do it,” I said.

“No, Skin. No, no, no, no, no...” she sobbed and turned beet red.

Poor baby girl. Asking her to fucking kill me to buy time wasn't easy, but I was ready to die if it'd keep their wicked hands off her for a few more seconds.

“It's okay, babe. Really. You have to do this. I won't even feel it.”

Total fucking lie.
I didn't give a shit. I'd feel myself tortured for a thousand years before I let any devil stick his dick in her again, tear her to pieces, hurt her.

“Aw, shit.” Big Vic sighed, breaking the last intense look I'd ever share with my old lady. “Here I thought you might keep us in suspense, Skin, but I figured you were a pussy. All right, I'm a man of my word. Let's get this shit show on the road.”

Big Vic nodded. Meg shook while the thug holding her untied her, pushed her arm out, clawed her hand open, and pressed the machete handle into her palm. He forced her fist closed around it, then jerked her arm toward me, moving her like a weeping puppet.

I didn't even hesitate. My hand went out, more than ready for the blinding pain, the final, best sacrifice I could make for this woman I loved.

I'd given her my heart the second I claimed her. What the fuck did my hand, my blood, matter after that?

The sharp, sandpaper squeal leaving her mouth shook the whole forest as the bastard behind her lifted her arm, holding it up above my hand.

“It's okay, baby. It's okay. Everything's gonna be all right.”

I said it like a mantra. My heart slammed against my ribs on overdrive.

I thought about my parents, wondering if my old man felt anything while he bled out on the side of the road. He'd suffered less than ma, surely, taking her last breaths in that shitty cot at the hospital, eaten up with cancer.

I thought about my brothers, tearing down the highway, too little too late to save my ass. But at least they could save her if they showed up in the next five minutes while the life went outta me.

I thought about the brand on her back, something she'd always have, the best memory I could leave her. I'd given her a second chance, dammit, and now it was up to the universe to do the rest.

God forgive me, Meg, baby. I love you.

“No!”

All hell broke loose at once.

She screamed. The machete hit the earth just an inch from my wrist. The asshole holding the shotgun fired, spooked himself into blasting his shells straight into the ground.

Shrapnel and dirt flew everywhere. Big Vic and his boys cursed.

By some miracle, she'd jerked herself hard enough to miss before they took my hand, and set off the fucking dominoes that gave us a fighting chance. I kicked like a mule, slamming my boots into the motherfucker behind me, holding me down.

I pulled on Meg's hand, jerked her away from Snappy, and we ran by Big Vic while the assholes were all dazed and confused. I reached for my belt, pulled out a stun grenade, and ripped the pin with my teeth as more bullets hit the dirt next to us.

I hurled it behind me and pinched my eyes shut.

The motherfuckers screamed bloody murder when the flash burned their eyes. Unfortunately, the shit must've blinded Meg too. She stumbled. All the signal I needed to lift her into my arms and carry her uphill, digging my boots in fast as I could go, ignoring the hellfire tearing through my head, making the world spin, threatening to drag me back into the blackness.

“Go, go, go, you stupid sonsofbitches! Don't let 'em get away!” The Deadhands' Veep roared behind us.

His voice was fading, but the bastard was still way too close. They'd catch up to us sooner or later, as soon as their vision cleared, assuming one of the fuckheads still firing aimlessly didn't catch a lucky shot.

There wasn't time to worry about that shit now. We had to keep going, odds be fucked, no matter the cost.

I ran, carrying her, zoning out as the fire lapped hotter in my muscles, burning me straight down. I'd crawl through hell itself for this woman, anything to keep her safe.

We'd done all we could, and I staggered up to the old stone wall, listening to their angry boots stampeding toward us.

“Over the wall, baby. Just roll, get up, and go. Run!” I told her, dropping her over the wall in front of me, before staggering over it myself.

My heart got a jolt when I hit the ground and looked up. Tinman and Lion were roaring into the parking lot, right behind all the other brothers, who'd just switched off their bikes.

“Skin? What the fuck?” Dust instantly drew his gun, pointed it behind me, sensing hell coming before I grabbed my piece and pushed Meg flat on the ground.

“The woods – they're coming!” All I had time to scream.

I started firing with the rest of the guys, who hit the dirt behind their bikes, dropping the first sick fucks running into the clearing. I saw two Deads filled with holes, but the guys behind 'em fired back, alerted to our ambush.

Meg whimpered underneath me. I kept her down, anything to protect her as I peaked over the wall and fired, ducking every time the Deads shot back.

The firefight lasted a cool minute before Sixty charged and rolled next to me at the wall. His magnum blasted right through a skinny tree, hit one of the fucks hiding in the brush.

My ears rang with his satisfying scream. The other two retreated, falling back into the forest, probably on Big Vic's orders. I could hear the asshole screaming behind 'em.

They were fucked. Our prospects circled their bikes, cutting off their only escape.

Soon as the return fire stopped, Dust waved us toward the forest, the only signal we needed to go after 'em.

Fucking finally.
I'd never been so goddamned happy to see the tables turned.

Meg clasped my arm, trying to stop me from going in. I tore myself away from her with a grunt, shaking my head.

“I've got to do this, babe. It'll be over fast. I promise.”

I'd make it up to her later. I sure as shit wasn't gonna let the Prez and the rest of my brothers take down Big Vic and the rest of his guys.

That sonofabitch had to die by my hand, just like I swore.

I always kept my word, ever since I'd put on this patch.
Always.

We chased the fuckers deep, crawling over tangled brush. Caught the greasy haired shit, Snappy, first, found him hiding behind a stump. He got off a few more shots, but the asshole was blinded with pain.

Joker got him from behind, close combat, stabbing a knife through his throat while the little hyena was too busy trying to shoot us. He died with his other hand still pressed to the nasty wound on his thigh, a jagged wound too messy to be one of ours.

I nodded to myself, satisfied that Meg had fucked a few of them up by making that dumb bastard blow his shotgun. He'd caught a piece of his own shrapnel, and now the devil had his soul. We pressed on.

The raging pain in my head stopped. I hit a second wind, running ahead of my boys, Sixty and Crawl at my side.

We found their guns before we found them. The last two Deads dropped everything, trying to run in a headlong panic. Crawl stopped for a second, picked up their shitty camera, and I took the machete laying next to it.

They'd followed a stream, probably hoping it'd lead them somewhere to hide, when we dropped 'em. Me and my best two brothers shot Big Vic and his boy in their calves from behind. They went down screaming like rats.

The Prez and the rest of the guys had just enough time to catch up as we approached.

“Goddamn, we got ourselves an officer.” He pointed his gun at Big Vic's name patch, ready to dispatch him at any time.

I grabbed his arm and shoved his gun down with a growl. The Deadhands' Veep blubbered like a baby, begging for his miserable life. I'd seen his type before – big, ugly bullies who always shit their pants when they were fresh outta bullets and guts.

The Prez walked up and kicked him in the ribs before he turned around and looked at me.

“He's mine, Prez. Let me do him. He tried to kill me and fuck my old lady. Asshole was planning to film it all for ransom from her folks.”

“No arguments,” Dust said coldly. “What about this other piece of shit?”

He gestured to the pot bellied biker with the pockmarked face. I shook my head. I didn't have a personal beef with this asshole like I did their VP. He was just another faceless soldier in the wrong place, wrong time, wrong club.

“Joker?” Dust smiled as he looked at our crazy ass Veep.

The boy was finally wearing a ghost of a smile as he pulled his knife out. Sixty and Crawl grinned, holding the bastard down. Joker sliced his shirt open and started carving the ink off his chest, stuffing the scrap of dirty fabric in the asshole's mouth to drown out his screams.

Ironic how he ended up suffering longer for Big Vic's sins. I wasn't interested in tolerating that bad motherfucker tainting more air on this planet for a second longer.

He tried to crab crawl away from me with his shot up leg when he saw me coming, machete in hand. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.”

Normally, I gave assholes a chance to say some final words.

Not today.

I stepped ahead of him to the creek's river bed and took off his arm with one quick, clean cut. Then the other. The bastard howled so loud he would've gotten our asses in trouble, assuming there was anybody to hear.

Lucky for us, that wasn't a concern when I swung the blade again. His ugly fucking head came off and rolled like a rotten pumpkin, right to the edge of the stream, stopping against a jagged rock with his eyes frozen open in shock.

I looked at his sick face one more time. Asshole's mouth hung open like he died surprised, and I grunted. Sweet, sweet satisfaction.

He'd need a lot more than fresh mountain water to purify his black soul down in hell for what he'd done to my woman.

Two hours later, I was back at the clubhouse, Meg at my side while Dust's ma, Laynie, checked me over.

She had her work cut out for her today as a former nurse. First, Firefly, and now me.

“You should really go down to the hospital and get a brain scan, son.” She shined the bright light into my eyes one more time, turning everything brilliant white. “I'm not seeing any obvious signs of damage, but you took a terrible blow to the head. I don't have the right equipment to rule out the worst.”

“I'll be fine,” I grunted, feeling a tiredness coming over me, nothing but the burning drive to curl up with my old lady and go the fuck to sleep.

“Skin, I want one of your friends to take us on a drive. I'm going to get you some help.” Meg stood up, pulling the rag she'd used to help clean the blood off my face out of its water, and wiped a spot she'd missed.

Fuck, that shit stung when she grazed my cuts. But it wasn't half as bad as having to get used to these people buzzing around, all concerned about me passing out.

We'd cleaned up the dead weight in the woods and taken off earlier that night. The prospects and Joker split to head deeper into the mountains, taking the motherfuckers we'd finished out to our usual burial sites.

“Forget about it, babe. I just need to sleep this shit off, I'll be fine by morning.”

Yeah, right.
The way the roar in my temples deepened every time I tried to talk told me I was kidding myself and everybody else here with me.