Outlaw's Bride (29 page)

“Oh, you know I like a challenge. Keeps things interesting.” Her nails touched my skin and slowly slid down my side, angling dangerously close to my cock when she got lower.

“Fuck yeah, you do. We wouldn't be sharing a bed if you were the kind to flip and run the instant shit gets messy. Tough chicks are the hottest fucks.”

She laughed. “You really think I'm tough?”

“Babe, I know it. And tonight, you're working this bed with me like it's goddamned boot camp.” Growling, I pushed her hand down to my cock, tightened her fingers around my ballooning length, and squeezed.

A couple minutes later, I pulled her legs apart and pushed into her from the side. We fucked our way to paradise 'til the birds began to tweet in the trees.

Club business waited for me the next day. Ugly, bloody, unfinished business.

I thought about us fucking the whole ride in. Thinking about her hot bod convulsing all over mine sweetened the blow that was about to come.

When I got inside the clubhouse, I met up with Rabid, and every hot, happy thought I had melted. There was nothing sexy about the grisly problem in front of me.

“Go easy on him, big guy. The fuck's already missing a whole hand. If the asshole dies before we've got a firm yes for the Prez, we're shit outta luck.” Rabid walked with me down the long hall, toward the storage room, now guarded by several prospects and a full patch member twenty-four-seven.

The prospects nodded to us and the door squealed open. Gold Teeth was slouched in his chair, his arms and legs bound, everything except the bloody stump where his right hand had been. They'd saved his bum leg and taken his hand.

Blackjack and the boys carved it off two fingers at a time, a little more each day, sending the rotten meat back to Mexico with a three-line note attached.

Leave California, or he dies. No negotiations. You know how to reach us.

Seeing the asshole sick and clammy was a nasty sight. Didn't stop me from wearing the same impassable mask, or remembering this fucked up clown nearly took me away from my wife and kid way too damned soon.

If I could've resurrected Beam and killed him a few more times, I would've. Instead, this asshole was all I had, and the Prez's orders said we couldn't put him under unless the cartel's answer was a hard
fuck no.

The don saw me and cracked his eyes, slow and groggy, like he was waking up from a dream. Really, he was coming home to a nightmare.

Those dark eyes got a whole lot wider when he saw me, recognized the man he thought he'd killed. He started sputtering some shit in rapid-fire Spanish.

I didn't understand any of it except the word
dios
– God.

I leaned down, face to sweaty face, making sure he could see the bulge underneath my cut from the gauze covering my screwed up shoulder. “You ready to talk today, boss man? The boys have done a damned good job carving meat off your sorry ass. 'Course they're only part-timers. I'm this club's Enforcer, and making assholes' tongues move is my full time job.”

“That's right,” Rabid growled in his other ear. “You can start by speaking English, asshole. There's nobody here who'll whisper sweet nothings in your native tongue, let alone bail you the fuck out.”

I gave my brother the evil eye. He got the message and backed away. This was all me.

I walked to the little stand in the corner, where some of the brothers had set up our usual toolbox for persuasion. Wires, clamps, batteries, and about a thousand different knives.

Sometimes I actually missed the Mauler, that torture glove the evil bastards used under Fang, but I didn't miss the fact that too many good brothers ended up shredded under that fucking thing.

I'd make do. Picking up a hunting knife, I brandished it in one hand, testing the very edge. It wasn't great for taking more bone off him, but it'd do the job for peeling skin.

When I turned around, he was fully conscious, bright fear alive in his eyes. “Please. I told your men everything already. Everything about this operation, the raid, the organization...”

I rubbed my chin with my free hand, feeling the sandpaper stubble. Hm, he was weaker than the other assholes we'd captured. Or maybe more willing to squawk because he was the first one ever who actually had a chance of walking away with his life.

Not that it was his choice. It was all up to his buds in the cartel now, and we had to hope golden boy here was as bright and shiny as his teeth.

“Yeah, except you haven't given us anything we can work with. Let's make this easy. What the
fuck
do I have to ship them in the mail to get an answer?” I walked forward, slow and plodding, circling him like a damned shark. “An ear? An eye? A nut?”

He flinched and looked down. Asshole caught a glimpse of the bloody stump where his hand had been, a reminder he'd already taken serious damage. He blubbered like a baby, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I dunno, Jose. Better think hard. Loosen those lips. Maybe I should put this knife down and pick up the pliers instead, rip out every last one of those pretty fucking teeth in your mouth, and send it to your boys in little envelopes.”

“They'll never give up,” he spat, looking at me more sternly than before. “Whatever you do to me, we'll do a thousand times worse to your man, Blackjack.”

Wrong answer.

I pushed the blade's flat edge against his head, starting near the back, one clean swipe away from taking an ear. The don lost his spunk just as quick as he'd gotten his balls back. Fuck, those rotten nuts were probably crawling up his guts right now, scared shitless I was crazy enough to take his ear right now, or something worse.

“All things are negotiable in this world, motherfucker. People change their minds. A few months ago, I'd have never believed I'd give up whores and drinking for something better. The name's Roman. I lived rough, lived to crucify sick motherfuckers in the worst ways possible. Now, all I wanna do is curl up with my wife and kid.”

“Then do it,” he whispered. “Go home. Finish me quickly. Spend your last few precious days with your family before the elites come for vengeance, for you and all your miserable brothers.”

Fucking. Asshole.

I looked up and saw Rabid smile. Then I slid the blade in hard, listening to the bastard howl, tearing through buttery cartilage. It wasn't enough to sever his ear, but it couldn't stay hanging off his head for long without some serious attention.

Moving to the other side of his head, I spoke slow, clearly. “It's not too late for you. We can reattach that worthless flap of skin and send you home missing nothing worse than a hand and a little pride. Just tell us how to make your boys cave. Throw us a goddamned fucking bone so we don't have to grind yours into dust.”

He swore, blubbered, spat such rapid fire curses I couldn't tell what language he spoke anymore. It went on for about a minute before he finally got control, sweating like a pig from the pain searing his brain. Blood pooled on his shoulder, running down his neck in rivulets from the severed ear.

“You tell them you'll hit them where they live! It's fucking obvious, is it not?” he sputtered, all he could manage before he closed his mouth again, chewing on the agony. More dark crimson stained his shoulder, almost in the same place where I'd taken a bullet.

Ironic.

“You mean in Mexico?”

He nodded. “I told you everything. You know about our ops across the border. Your President knows all about our bases in Baja, Sonora, Mexico City. You threaten them the same way we've done to you. You have to hit their homes, their families, their kids. Keep
nothing
off limits.”

I pulled away. Rabid looked a little pale.

Fuck. The asshole in the torture chair had a point. Of course, the club never went after civilians, American or otherwise, and we sure as fuck weren't gonna start.

But if these fucks had killed brothers, bombed clubhouses, even wiped out a few old ladies in SoCal...

They'd threatened my fucking family, and almost tore me away from them, leaving Sally and Caleb defenseless.

No, we'd never sink to their God forsaken depths, but we'd sure as shit pretend. The asshole whipped his head backward when I touched the blade to the opposite side of his head, threatening the good ear.

“We need more. You tell us the names and addresses of your cousins and uncles in the capital. We know you're royal blood, don. Shitty part is, you're also expendable, but they'll be singing a different tune if all the hydra's heads are threatened at once, yeah?”

“Yes.
Yes.
Anything.”

For the first time since I'd stepped in, I smiled, and drew the knife away. I looked at Rabid.

“Get somebody in here to sew his shit back on. We'll put him on standby for transport as soon as the Prez gets the info he's looking for, and verifies it. Something tells me the motherfuckers will answer us next time.”

I got the call when I was in town picking up some grub for dinner. The cartel blinked.

The boys were putting a hood over our don's head that second and getting him ready for a ride down to San Diego. The Nomads working down there would handle the rest as soon as we passed him off, and we'd all oversee the cartels withdrawal from our home state as soon as the ink was dry on the truce.

Thank Christ. Even better, my girl went out to try on dresses today, and she'd left me some texts about 'em being fucking hot.

I couldn't wait to get home. Neither could the hard-on hammering in my pants. My wound felt better by the hour. By the time we tied the knot in a couple weeks, I'd be good as new, ready for some serious horizontal gymnastics on our honeymoon.

She thought I'd already fucked her every way I knew how. And I was ready as hell to show her she was wrong. I'd be training her to come on my cock better than any woman ever had, until she pulled every last drop of seed from my balls.

I loaded a couple pizzas on my bike and took off for home, loving the crisp air blowing in my face. The house was quiet when I pulled up. Sally's car was in the driveway, and I didn't hear shit when I stepped inside.

Missy and Jackie wouldn't drop off the kid 'til later. That gave us a few hours to talk plans for the big day, feed our faces, maybe even pick up where we'd left off last night.

“Babe?” I called it twice when I got in, louder on the third time when I reached the staircase.

She wasn't a heavy sleeper. Something was fucked up in all this silence. The hair tingled on the back of my neck, and so did my hand, poised over the nine millimeter on my hip.

“Sally? Where the fuck are you?” Our bedroom door was half-closed.

I swept it open quick, expecting to hear her in the bathroom, deafened by a hissing shower or something. Fuck's sake, I'd have
killed
to hear either of those sounds, or just to see her sleeping peacefully in our big bed.

Lady Luck wasn't so kind. Not today.

Instead, I walked in on a man crouching in the corner, a gun already trained on me, his other hand holding my girl by the neck. She was on the floor struggling, a pillowcase over her head.

“Finally! Took you forever to show up, bear boy,” he growled, his dark eyes and the hint of an accent betraying his origin.

I didn't back down. I'd catch a fucking bullet through my heart before I let up, aiming the gun right at his nasty little brain. I didn't know who the fuck he was or what he was doing in our house.

None of that mattered, not even the fact that he'd obviously come from the cartel.

What mattered was that he had my woman, my love, holding her a hostage in our own damned bedroom.

“Let. Her. Go.”

Three simple words. They never listened. They never did.

This asshole was no exception – but why the fuck should he when I'd decided he was dead before I opened my mouth?

“I can do that, gringo. That's what I'm here for, yeah? Just as soon as you tell me where you've got Don Meza.”

“He's on his way home.” The demon's eyes lit up. “No bullshit. Call your boys back home in Mexico City if you don't believe it. You fuck up anything here, you kill the peace we're about to make, even though it's the bitterest goddamned peace I've ever seen. You shoot me, you kill my girl, and your don's a dead man. So is every other
capo
fuck south of the border.”

We stared for several seconds. Sally whimpered on the floor, and kicked her legs again. My heart thundered pure adrenaline, fighting the urge to look at her, and lose my focus.

Make your move, asshole. Just one. I'll blow your fucking brains out your ears.

“You take half a step, I shoot her. Let me call your bluff.” He eyeballed me the whole time, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

For the next minute or two, fiery Spanish flew outta his mouth like a machine gun, coming to an abrupt end when he snapped it shut. A sinister smile crossed his lips.

“You're a lucky man, grizzly bear. Count the stars tonight and thank every one of them. I will go, in peace, as long as you let me.”

“Fine. Take the fucking hood off her head first, and let her back away. I'm not letting you outta this room 'til you do.”

He shrugged, and began to do exactly what I said. Sally crawled into the corner, red faced and shaking her head. Those soft blue eyes were huge, terrified.

I wished like hell I'd brought the shit from the club home. I'd use every tool I had on this pig fucker to make him scream, finish him with a Colombian necktie, after I'd fried his nuts to a crisp.

Yeah, I'd be violating the imminent truce, but there were no rules 'til it was all official.

“Just breathe, baby girl,” I mouthed, watching as he stood up.

I backed into the opposite corner and watched the fucker move to the door. I'd wait 'til he was next to the stairs before I pulled the trigger to be safe.

It was dangerous as fuck, especially when he had me in his sights, slowly backing toward the stairs, his gun up and ready. He'd get distracted before he took the first step. He'd pause, giving me the perfect opening to punch the trigger.

I started counting his slow, creeping steps in the hall. When I was down to three, my fingers burned, ready to snuff him the fuck out forever, even if I risked another bullet landing in my –