Outlaw's Bride (7 page)

Roman had similar patches and inks on his chest. But I never gave them this much attention before. They'd never frozen my blood until now.

Jesus. You were really naive when you fucked him, weren't you? These men handle life and death like it's mowing crops.

Your business is farming. Theirs is blood.

I talked, told him about the trap door, the eerie little toolbox I found in the dirt. Blackjack stared at me with his arms folded, silent as stone. When it was all over and my lips stopped moving, he leaned forward.

“You're right. This is fucking serious. You came to the right place,” Blackjack said. “I can't tell you much about what we do, but I'll say this is the first I've heard about cartel activity in our own backyard since early summer.”

I nodded. “You can come and check it out yourselves. My cousin owns the ranch too, but he's cool with you guys. Bringing you in was his idea.”

“Smart man. He's right, you know. A lot of good people
will
get hurt if they're allowed to operate in Redding, brothers and civilians alike.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I'll send my boys out tomorrow to check on the spider hole and make sure your perimeter's secure.”

“And what about after? Can you have men around the ranch permanently? I need to know we're safe if we're going to be letting your men ride free on our land.”

I kept thinking about Caleb. His safety came first, second, and third. If anything happened to him because of my mistakes, my oversight, I'd die. And I'd deserve it too.

He didn't answer me at first. I leaned forward, pressing my hands on the cool table.

“Blackjack,
please.
I need you on board. If you're coming into my home, you're going to protect it too.”

“Yeah, all right,” he growled at last. “We'll add your place to the regular patrols I have my crew do around town. We've got a lot in the balance right now. My men have a lot of obligations beyond your farm, Sally.”

“I know. I have some idea what goes on in MCs. You're not just fixing Harleys and doing charity runs.”

Blackjack's lips pulled up in a knowing smile, and then it faded just as quickly. “One more thing –

there's a chance you'll be seeing him. Roman's my Enforcer, Sergeant-at-Arms for this charter. He's the toughest sonofabitch I've got, and he's my agent in the field when I can't be there myself. You really okay with having him on your clay?”

Damn. I hadn't really thought about it until now, but there was no way around it.

Whatever. I couldn't run from the asshole forever. I'd just keep my distance, stay out in the fields or indoors whenever it was his turn to comb our property.

“I'll handle it fine,” I said slowly. “I'm a big girl. I've dealt with worse.”

Yeah, like raising the son of the last bastard in the world I want to see snooping around my house,
I thought.

“Good. I'll have Beam walk you through the details about what to expect before you leave. He knows all the logistics of a job like this. You still got my number?” Blackjack reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.

I nodded. He stuck out his hand, and I gave it a shake. His tough leather palm caressed my hand, thickened rough by decades of doing only God knew what.

“Then we've got ourselves a deal, woman. Call me if anything comes up. Your place is under our protection now.”

The weight of the world was lifting off my chest as I stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind me. I didn't see Beam anywhere waiting for me, so I started to walk.

Damn, I had to find him and get out of here.

The clubhouse was way bigger than it looked on the outside. A long hall branched off toward what looked like a bunch of rooms. The other way led back where I came, past the spacious bar and the eating area.

I headed there first. “Beam?”

A couple guys looked up from their benches. The bald brother named Asphalt stood up, twisting a beer bottle in one hand. “He's back in storage. Told me to send you down there if you needed anything.”

“I do.”

“Here, let me show you. Fucking shit.” Asphalt staggered over his own boots and swore, obviously a little too tipsy from his drinking. He led me to the same corridor by Blackjack's office, where he stopped and pointed. “It's straight down and to your right. You'll see a big steel door. Knock if it's closed. Fucking thing rattles like a tin can. He'll hear you.”

The biker hiccuped, covered his mouth, and then left me all alone. Ugh, I wanted to get the hell out of there. The sooner, the better.

The hall was just as long as it looked. Several doors were half-open. Most of the rooms were empty, but a couple brothers were inside others, passed out and snoring in their beds. A little more than halfway to the section where it hooked left and right, there was another door, wide open and lighter than the others.

My eyes caught a naked woman snoozing on the ground, ass up, a massive arm around her with wicked black ink I'd recognize anywhere.

Roman.
There he was, buck naked, passed out on the floor with her nasty looking pigtails draped over his barrel chest, an empty bottle of whiskey slipping from his other hand.

My knees stopped working. I jerked to a halt and stared at the unholy sight, shaking my head, trying not to have an instant meltdown.

I knew he was a bastard after our last run in. But seeing this...

Hot, painful tears stabbed the corners of my eyes. My voice hitched as I strained to catch my breath, too damned loudly for my own good. I couldn't flee before he was wide awake, couldn't escape before his huge, naked body stood up and stomped toward me.

“Fuck me with a torch,” he grunted, wiping his forehead, not even bothering to hide his nudity as he stumbled through the opening, pushing me against the wall. “What the hell are you doing here, babe?”

God. I tried to cover my ears. He really had the nerve to call me that after...after
this?

“I'm not your babe, and it's none of your fucking business!”

“The fuck it isn't,” he growled. Grabbing my wrists he threw them over my head. “You're in this clubhouse. That
is
my business, seeing how I'm the Enforcer, and I didn't tell anybody to let you in!”

“Blackjack did, and he doesn't need your permission.” A tiny hint of satisfaction rolled through me as I watched his eyes widen.

His grip weakened, just enough for me to snatch my wrists away and slide out underneath him. It would've been a lot more satisfying if he weren't standing there totally exposed, teasing me with his statuesque muscles and furious tattoos.

Damn it all. Straight to hell. I couldn't force myself to process how a man who looked so perfect could be so fucking evil.

Just then, the whore decided to trot up to his side, barely covering her breasts. “What's going on, baby? Who's she?”

Roman's head snapped around. I seriously wondered if he was about to break her neck.

“Go back inside. This shit doesn't concern you.” Their eyes were locked for several seconds before she finally shrugged, and went back into his room, closing the door behind her.

“You should've fucking called me. The Prez should've come to me. We've got history, babe. You can't just waltz in here like this.” He took another step forward, toward me, doing absolutely nothing to hide his fuckable body.

I wasn't sure how I managed to stay angry. Somehow, I forced myself to keep my eyes glued to his face. I didn't even sneak a glimpse at the massive package swinging between his legs, the tool he used to fuck away all my senses, leaving me with a kid he knew nothing about.

And it's going to stay that way, too. You blew it, you drinking, whoring, lying asshole.

Latching onto that fire deep in my belly was the easy part. Holding on? Not so much, but I did.

“Get away from me, Roman. I need to find Beam. I don't need you. Get out of my way and go hang with your new girlfriend.”

Anger wrinkled his huge face. “You fucking around? Girlfriend? She's nothing to me. Just another club whore. Something to empty my balls in when I've had a few drinks and I wanna kick back.”

“Oh, so just like me?” My voice hardened to a harsh whisper. “That's all I was to you, right? Just another dumb blonde whore.”

His nostrils flared. Shaking his head, he lifted his fists, then turned around and banged them on the wall. The insane energy in those huge muscles made it sound like someone fired a gun point blank inside the clubhouse.

“It's not like that, Sally, and you fucking know it!” His fist shot up, pointing a raging finger at me. “You knew damned well what we started, and you decided to throw it in the goddamned trash. You could've dropped me a line any hour, any second, any fucking day, and you
didn't
. You drove me to these pigtailed skanks warming my bed – you pushed me the fuck away and I'm picking up the pieces. Don't you dare blame me for any of this horseshit. We could've had something. I gave you that chance, and you made your choice.
You
decided we were just a mid-summer casual fuck. Not me.”

Ouch. Another dagger in the chest, and it sank deep.

There were no innocents here. We'd made our mistakes, we were both guilty. I'd lied, and he was dirty. Tainted. Destroyed.

That wasn't on me – was it?

“Yeah, it's all my fault,” I spat. Sarcasm helped keep my tears in check, steadied my voice. “I never cared. You're totally right. I was a cold blooded bitch, just looking for a nice warm dick, right? It was just a summer fling. You telling me to basically shut up and mind my own business while you rode into a situation that could've gotten you killed is
my
fault. Got it.”

His rich dark eyes turned about ten shades darker. “Come on.
Come. The. Fuck. On, woman.
You know that's nothing but –“

Bullshit?
I thought.
No. Not that easy.

“Club business.” I finished for him. “I get it. You chose what really mattered to you, and it wasn't me. You chose this life. Go live with your choice behind that door. She's waiting.”

I tossed my hair, looking past him, into the clubhouse. I pointed at the room he'd walked out of, where the skank was probably in bed, counting down the seconds until he came back and fucked her.

It wasn't just her either. It was the club.

What would things have been like if he weren't sucked into all this? Would I have ever tingled for him at all without those dark inks licking his muscles, without the edge cut into his soul screaming
danger
?

He was the ultimate double-edged sword. I'd only realized too late that both ends were bound to cut me to pieces, unless I threw him away forever.

Roman stood there seething for several seconds. I couldn't believe I'd actually rendered him speechless.

Surprisingly, it didn't make me feel good. What little satisfaction I had for a second quickly faded.

There was nothing except emptiness between us, and even the emotional tension evaporated like dew on a hot morning.

“Sally? Roman?” I jumped when I heard Beam's voice. He'd snuck up behind me, then took several steps between us, confusion spreading across his face as he looked at Roman. “What the hell's going on here, brother?”

“Nothing you gotta be worried about,” Roman said sharply, pouring ice on his anger. “Help her with whatever the fuck the Prez said, and get her the fuck out. She doesn't belong here. Next time somebody comes into this clubhouse unannounced, you let me know too. Got it?”

Beam nodded glumly.

Roman turned. I caught one more flash of his chiseled back before he thundered away into his room, slamming the door shut behind him so hard the walls rattled.

“Christ. What did you say to him?” Beam grinned ear-to-ear.

“It's not important. We've got history, but that's all it is.” I said, feeling the heat on my cheeks. “He's right about one thing – it's nothing anybody needs to worry about. I'm here for business with the club. Nothing else.”

Beam's smiled turned into smug determination. He nodded. “Got it. Come on, I'll walk you to your car.”

My quick transit through the clubhouse felt ice cold. Roman should've left me burning hot after screaming in my face, naked as the day our bodies tangled together, leaving me a piece of him forever.

But thinking about Caleb brought winter to my veins. I just wanted to leave this fucked up place forever, forget about the bikes and their bad manners.

Lucky me, that wasn't an option. Thanks to the cartel, I was going to be locked into seeing the Grizzlies patch a lot more, but at least I wouldn't have to come to this clubhouse.

“Will Roman stay back when Blackjack sends his guys to our property?” I asked, as soon as we were back in the garages.

Beam shrugged. “Totally up to the Prez, baby.”

Cold. I listened to him rattle off a few more basic safety tips – all the usual things about going out in groups, never leaving anybody alone at night, etc.

I was ready to climb into my car, when he stuck out a hand and grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me close. It was so sudden lightning rolled through my body.

“Just between you and me, I'll make sure he keeps his distance. Don't have a clue what went down with this bastard in the past, but he shouldn't talk to you like that. You're not his slut, and you sure as shit ain't his old lady neither.” When he pulled his lips back from my ear, I saw anger brimming in his face, mixed with something else.

Oh, God.
The look. I hadn't seen it since those unforgettable nights with Roman, when a big, tattooed badass pulled me into his arms, rocked me underneath him like a toy, fucked me until I was nothing but a steaming, sated mess.

Beam couldn't hide it. And I couldn't hide the fact that I saw everything. Saw it, and shuddered.

“Thank you,” I whispered, gently stumbling around with my hand on the car door handle. “I can handle Roman myself, Beam. But I appreciate you for keeping an eye out. Really, I do.”

Another understanding nod, and he turned. I started my car and drove toward the gates, while he motioned to the prospects standing guard to open up. Beam's eyes never left me once, locked onto my face as I pumped the pedal.