Never Love an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (51 page)

“Hold up,” Blaze snapped, throwing up a hand. “Wait here while we open up. Gonna have my Sergeant-at-Arms pat your asses down and make sure you're not fucking with us.”

“Nope.” Blaze's whole body twitched at my reply. “I'll stand here. You can pat me down, and
me
only. Lay a hand on my old lady or her kid sister in the truck, and I'll turn this fucking thing right around and take my chances alone back in Redding.”

Blaze snorted, shaking his head. “You gotta be shitting me. You're the fuck who's come to my doorstep
begging,
remember? My clubhouse, my rules.”

Stinger gave a stern nod. Behind him, Tank glowered, flexing his cannon-sized arms. The big fucker still wanted the blows he hadn't gotten back in Reno, when the old ladies held him back from smashing me to mush.

Missy reached over and smoothed her hands over my arm. “Brass...”

One look at her soothed the anger, if only a notch. Fuck. If I was alone, I wouldn't have hesitated to stand here all day and argue with these fucks. But nothing was easy since my old lady and the kid came into my life.

“All right. You're an asshole, Blaze, but I know you're a reasonable man. I know Blackjack talked to you by now about safe harbor for my girls...you give me that up front, right now, and I'm yours. The fucking gorilla behind you doesn't even need to pat me down nicely. You know, unless he's into that.”

Tank grunted angrily, taking a step forward. Blaze spun, gave him the evil eye, and then turned back to me, clenching his fists on the iron bars.

“And you're a junkie asshole I don't trust within an inch of my life,” he growled. “Too bad you're also my woman's only blood, or we wouldn't be having this talk right now.”

His eyes shifted to Missy. Nervous anger and uncertainty showed in her tight face, but she held his gaze.

Blaze let out a long sigh and lowered his face for a second, before bringing it back up. “Fuck. Okay. Here's how it's gonna go. The girls get out, stand off to the side, and I'll have Sting search the truck. If you're not hiding anything fucked up, you hand your chick the keys and she goes on her merry way, straight to the hotel we've got arranged. Nowhere else. I'll keep two guys posted to make sure nobody unexpected shows up.”

I didn't like it, but I could live with those terms. I nodded.

“Tank.” Blaze called his name and he stepped forward, punching the code on their side.

The gate slid open. Stinger marched out first, shooting me an uneasy look, heading for the truck. Missy ran ahead of him to collect Jackie.

Goliath stood next to me like a statue. Knew the fucker was waiting to get through searching the vehicle before he had his fun.

Stinger combed everything over thoroughly. Blaze made me grind my teeth and rage on the best day, but I had to admit, the asshole sure knew how to pick his crew. He had more skilled, level headed guys under him right now than Redding had seen for years, despite being a whole lot bigger. Sting's search was all over in a couple minutes, cold and efficient.

“It's clear, Prez. Nothing in there I wouldn't expect to see after a long road trip,” the VP said, saluting with a huge smile.

“Okay. Grab Moose and get your bikes to escort this fucking rust bucket home.” He turned to me. “Now's a damned good time to hand over the keys. You packing any heat, you hand it over right now.”

We locked eyes. I couldn't tell whether or not the fucker was enjoying this, but he was deadly insistent. Growling, I reached into my pocket while Tank eyeballed me, throwing my keys and wallet to Missy first.

“Go, babe. You'll both be fine. I'll get over there as soon as I can later,” I said, pulling out my nine millimeter and passing it to Blaze.

She gave me one last, longing look, and then took off. I watched her climb into the driver's seat, waiting for the Prairie Pussies. A couple bikes roared out through the half-open gate a second later, Stinger on one, and a fat bearded dude with an eye patch on the one behind him.

The truck started up and followed the Harleys down the road. Soon as we were alone, the whole world shifted.

Tank picked me up like a measly branch and slammed me into the brick wall next to the gate. My torso hit so fucking hard it sucked the wind outta my lungs. I grinned and tried to laugh, but nothing would come out. Grinning and baring it was all I could do to avoid signing my death warrant, swinging around and throwing my fist into his thick jaw.

His fat hands thumped hard down my back, then rounded my sides. When he got to my boot, I remembered I'd forgot to take out my blade.

Shit!

“Hey, big guy, there's a –“

Tank practically tore my leg off. I hit the ground and he was still pulling on it, growling as he undid the strap with the holster.

He held it up, drawing out the knife, smiling in the faint evening sun. “Figured as much. Looks like it's just this knife, boss. Wouldn't have done us no harm.”

Blaze nodded, satisfied. He stared at me on the ground, stepping closer. Finally, he extended a hand.

Shaking his hand like this brought the whole fucked up reality home. I had to swallow all the bitter rivalry as he helped me up. I was used to venom and bullets from Devils, but fucking handshakes?

“Come on.” He gave me a rough shove as soon as I was on my feet. “I'll give you a minute to say hello to your sis, and then you don't step one foot outside the meeting room 'til I say so.”

I nodded. There. That felt a lot more like the Devils I knew, and I could relate to it a lot more than that alien nice guy shit.

“Jordan!” Shelly came running toward me before I got two steps into the clubhouse.

She was working at the bar, and she threw herself at me, practically bowling me over on the floor for the second time that day. I couldn't resist locking my arms around her.

Hard to believe so much shit happened in just a couple months since the wedding.

“Hey, sis. It's Brass here around these boys,” I reminded her.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? Just like you're gonna suck it up and call me Saffron?”

Damn. Hearing that fucking stripper name was always like a shot in the chest, but right now we had more important things. I hugged her one more time and then stepped back, nodding.

“Whatever you wanna be called, it's damned good to see you again. We'll catch up later when business is done.”

“We'll be the judge of that,” Blaze growled, slamming a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Let's go. You've said your piece.”

Shelly gave him a disapproving look. Blaze shrugged.

“Club business, baby. You know that.” He paused, flashing my sis a knowing smile. “Don't worry. We won't scratch a hair on his head unless he gives us a damned good reason to. All the boys are under orders not to. Even Tank.”

She nodded, relief shining in her face. “Make sure you bring him back here when you're finished. We barely got to talk at the wedding.”

Great. More drama for later. Didn't have a fucking clue how to tell her I'd picked up an old lady who almost killed my ass at first, plus a little girl.

Being marched into the large Devils' meeting room with Blaze behind me was almost a relief. Everybody was there waiting for me, a buncha guys I'd seen before, sans Stinger and Moose.

Blaze filed in behind me and pointed to a chair in the middle of the table. I sat, watching as he took his place. Typical Prairie Pussy bravado. The other guys looked like they'd suck his dick, all except Tank, who seemed like such a heavy bastard in his own right he didn't need to fawn over anybody.

Still, there was something in their eyes I'd never seen with Fang. True respect. Brotherhood.

They looked at their Prez like a worthy leader, not a man they ran favors for on fear alone.

“All right, bros, let's get this shit started,” he said, picking up a small gavel at the head of the table and slamming it down. “Church is in session, and we have a guest. Never thought I'd see a motherfucking bear at this table.”

He shook his head. I snorted. The disbelief was mutual. It was surreal as shit being here, staring at the faces of these men and their devil emblems, everything I'd been trained to destroy.

“Seems there's a power struggle in the Grizzlies MC,” Blaze continued. “Worse than the shit we've been hearing about their brush fire war with the cartel. Fang's reached his limit, and that's pretty fucking serious news for our club, seeing as we've always been on edge since Throttle sealed the truce with the bears.”

The two national Presidents putting blood aside seemed like eons ago – right here in Montana, no less. But it was really less than a year and a half ago, back when easy pussy and pushing sweet fire in my veins was all I had to worry about.

“Fang's a fucking idiot,” I growled. “Traitor to his own club.”

A tall, muscular dude around my own age snickered several chairs over. Blaze shot him an angry look. The Devil froze, pivoting his lip ring on his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, Roller. I'm not gonna disrespect this asshole's colors as long as he doesn't shit on ours.” Blaze looked at Tank next to him, and then at me. “Now, Brass, you gonna tell us why the fuck Blackjack sent you racing up to our territory?”

I told them everything. How the fucked up war with the cartel weakened the whole club, fanning tensions that were simmering for years. Told them how they'd tried to kill me, how I shredded that psycho's face who'd tried to kill my girl, how Blackjack believed the club could turn itself around if it just burned away the cancer at the top.

When I was finished, Blaze leaned back in his chair, his jaw clenched thoughtfully. He turned to Tank.

“What do you think?”

“It's a real sad story, boss,” Tank said. Not something I ever expected to hear from the giant. “But having this boy here's a real load of bullshit.”

There. That's more like the Prairie Pussy badass wannabe I know.
I looked at Goliath and grinned.

Blaze folded his hands and leaned forward, all his attention on me again. “I'm inclined to agree. Look, Brass, we appreciate you giving us a head's up about this shit. Mostly so we can stay the fuck out of it. What were you hoping to
do
with this little knock and talk?”

Fuck. Typical selfish Prairie Pussy bastard. I balled fists underneath the table, trying not to let the anger in my eyes flood everything.

“Blackjack and I are trying to save
both
our asses. Can't you fucking see that? I know this club's been through the grinder ever since you started this charter, Blaze. The last thing you wanna do is strap on your knee highs and go wading through our cesspool.”

“Damned straight,” Blaze said with a smile.

“And you're a fucking idiot if you let the past blind you to what's coming.”

Blaze's smile melted. Tank rose, slow and angry, ready to choke the life outta me for insulting his Prez in their own clubhouse.

“Wait, wait,” Blaze said, putting up his arm over Tank. “Let's give him one chance to qualify that before we shut his ass up for saying such stupid shit.”

“This shit
will
spill over into your club, Blaze. What I didn't get a chance to tell you is Fang thought I was a rat for the Devils. Not the cartel.”

“Fuck!” Tank growled, settling back into his chair.

“I know. We had a major shipment fucked up in Washington last week. He doesn't believe the Mexicans would slip so far north and hit us past Redding. Didn't take him long to draw a target on the Devils, thinking you'd double-crossed us while we've been busy.”

“Bastard!” Blaze's fists hit the table. “If that dumb motherfucker wants a war on his northern flank, we'll give him one. We'll ride through Sacramento with his fucking head on our bikes before the Mexicans can get to it.”

The Devils Prez was shaking. Hot headed as usual, but for once, I didn't blame him for having such a short fuse.

“Dunno, boss,” Tank said, eyeing me warily. “There's only eight of us, maybe double if we put in a call for reinforcements from the Dakota boys. That's enough to take Redding with Brass and his splinter group, but it's not shit if we gotta battle dudes from every other Grizzlies charter too.”

Blaze shook his head. “I hate to say it, but you're fucking right. Having this club on your side isn't gonna mop up every charter from Coeur d'Alene to San Diego. Besides, it sounds like the cartel's got your man on the ropes. Maybe we'd be better off here, beefing up our defenses, waiting for your evil empire to fall.”

I laughed. He really didn't see the full picture, and it was like talking to the goddamned wall trying to pry his eyes open.

Don't give up. This is the end of the line, boy. One more try, or settling down with Missy's gonna be the least of your worries.

I couldn't ignore the persistent voice in the back of my mind. I tried to stay calm as I looked at Blaze and stood, hands on the table, not even looking past him when Tank got up and began sizing me up.

“You're totally fucking wrong, Blaze. I wouldn't come here asking you for favors without holding an ace.” This time, I looked at Tank, the fiercest skeptic in the room. “He botched a hit a couple weeks ago. Some druggy with an old personal vendetta. When the fucker wouldn't pay up, he sent his boys after the guy. Ended up with a dagger in his back.”

“Who the fuck cares?” Tank growled. “Give us something we can chew on or shut the fuck up, bear.”

I grinned. “Fang doesn't take trophies like Devils do. He likes to see it all go down on video. Some guys recorded the crime scene. Even got some junkie bitch holed up in the room to squawk about what happened on film. Go ahead and fucking guess who's brought the tape to Big Sky country.”

Silence.

Tank and the younger guys eyeballed me like they wanted to drag my ass out back and put a bullet through my head. Blaze drummed his fingers on the table, angrily digesting the bitter pill I'd just forced down his throat. He knew damned well how restless other club Prezes got when shit started to fall apart. One more bombshell that made the head honcho a target for the Feds was one straw too many, one last kick that would bring the whole rotten structure down.

He didn't need to know I'd killed the fuck myself and bribed the junkie to spill what I told her. He didn't need to know the twisted bastard was just a convenient kill I'd made for Jackie, warping the murder into a weapon against Fang.