Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love)

D
isclaimer
:
The following ebook is a work of fiction. Any resemblance characters in this story may have to real people is only coincidental.

P
lease respect
this author's hard work! No section of this book may be reproduced or copied without permission. Exception for brief quotations used in reviews or promotions. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thanks!

C
over Design – Kevin
McGrath – Kevin Does Art. Photo by Allan Spiers Photography.

W
HEN HE FINDS OUT
ABOUT OUR BABY...OH, GOD.

SUMMER

I didn't have an outlaw's baby. Honest.

I didn't run, didn't hide our son, didn't suffer alone. There's
not
a bastard with a gun to my head, sending me running to the bad boy I left behind. Making me lie to everyone.

Yeah, I'm full of it.

Here's the truth – I'm frozen because I'm finally face-to-face with the wild, gorgeous man with the icy stare who lit me on fire three summers ago. Joker rocked me to my core, left me with a kid, and it's just a matter of time until he discovers everything.

Never have an outlaw's baby. They're cute, but they come with serious strings attached.

Like Joker's kiss. I can already taste it, the growl rising in his throat. Coming for my lips, coming for the truth, coming for
me.

JOKER

Pure hell tore my heart out one night three years ago. There ain't room in that hole for Summer, a lyin' spitfire I swore I'd never see again.

I screamed, I shoved, I told her to get out, and stay out. Made myself numb so I'd forget about those lips I used to own, or having her between the sheets.

Worked like a charm 'til...the kid.

I know he's mine. Know something evil isn't adding up. Know he's the first light I've had in the darkness for years, and Summer's the second.

If she hates me, I don't give a damn. This baby changes
everything.

She ain't running anymore. Neither am I.

I'll put my name on her sweet skin. Hear her beg the way she used to. Remind her that a woman never has an outlaw's kid without sharing his bed, his bike, his brand. Always.

The Outlaw Love books are stand alone romance novels featuring unique lovers and happy endings. No cliffhangers, no cheating, and a secret baby surprise! This is Joker and Summer's story in the Deadly Pistols MC series.

A
real man
leaves his shadow hanging over you, even after he's gone.

Three years to the day since he left, and I was still blinded by his.

Go ahead, judge me.

I wasn't stupid, or weak. God, I'd shed those words long ago after everything I'd been through since Jackson Taylor.

Illusions could sometimes fog up my heart, but they didn't get to my head. I knew who he was, what he was, and why he'd left his big, bad impression stamped on my heart.

And I knew the future, too – clear as fucking crystal.

The bastard was gone. He wasn't coming back.

That's what I told myself every single day, ringing up customers at the Jiffy Hen, hoping I'd lose another day without having to think much at all.

Didn't always work out that way. Hell, maybe never.

A girl has plenty of time to think about right and wrong when she's trying to pass the time. The past reaches up, takes her by the throat, and doesn't let go until she's shaking, cursing herself.

I thought about Jackson constantly, and I hated it. Day in, day out.

The passion, the loss, the empty hole he'd carved in my chest, the void that wouldn't heal, no matter how much time passed.

My body missed him too. My nipples still turned to pebbles every time I thought about that night, our last night together. That was the night he'd taken me the hardest, over and over, leaving a piece of himself behind forever.

I lived in his shadow then, except it was a whole lot more real.

His shadow crawled all over me like a furious demon that night, clinging to his body over mine. Jackson slammed every ounce of strength he had between my legs while his hand jerked my hair around like reigns.

He'd owned me.

I'd let him.

I'd loved it.

I cried out when he tensed and exploded, filling me, bringing me off so hard I scratched his back raw.

He might've been an absolute rat bastard, but the boy could sure fuck.

I had living proof of it waiting for me at home. The fact that he left me wet and wanting after all these years said something about the black magic he had in every kiss, every movement, every single time he shoved me under him and shook me to my core.

Of course, I hated it. I hated everything about it – the memory, the want, the prison of this life without him.

I even hated that I hated it. It wasn't fair.

God. God fucking damn it!

My eyes always pinched shut at the worst times, when it became too much, fighting back the tears.

I'd battled them ten thousand times by now. I lost more often than I wanted to admit, feeling the hot tears rushing out when I was alone in the backroom on my breaks, or in my car, or changing another diaper alone.

The memories chased me like wolves, night and day.

Relentlessly, hounding me, straight into the dark hollow I called my life.

I remembered him every time a loud motorcycle roared by on the busted up street.

The worst were the sticky summer nights, listening to the bugs humming in the trees through my crappy apartment window. We were entering the thickest nights now, here in Georgia, as alive with life and noise as they were long.

Those were the nights when I sat in my PJs after dinner, bad TV yammering in the background, fighting for distractions.

Those nights, I broke out the whiskey, toasting the times gone by before they put me in tears again.

Never more than a shot or two. I had to work early most days, after all. I was an adult now.

I stopped short of that sweet, ultimate buzz that would've laid me down, and let me forget. Not for my own sake, or because I wanted to make another helpless attempt to run away from the past, and the boy who'd left me in this lonely hell.

I had to do it for him.
Alex.

Leaning over his crib, I reached down and stroked my son's brow. Nighttime helped hide how much he looked like the face I wished I could bleach from my head forever.

He'd just had his second birthday a couple months ago. Since the day he was born, I'd told myself I'd keep going, however hard it got. I'd live and die by my baby boy, and to hell with the old times wanting to get in the way of that.

Sure, days like this took the damned cake.

But they didn't stop me. Nothing ever would.

Not even when I remembered the short-lived forbidden romance, the fiery kisses, the passion that created the little miracle sleeping in the corner.

That was then. This sleeping, innocent baby was my now.

Alex trembled, yawned, and rolled over in his sleep.

I smiled, planting a long, desperate kiss on his forehead. “It's okay, baby boy. Long as it's just you and me, we can take on the world. You're going to be ten times the person I've been someday. A hundred times the man your father is, too.”

I caught myself near the end, pulling away in a whisper. Had to be more careful soon. I couldn't keep talking like that unless I wanted some
very
hard questions ripping open old wounds.

In just a few more years, he'd be talking up a storm and going to school. A few years after that, he'd be thinking about life and big dreams, not to mention where he came from, wondering why he didn't have a father.

I didn't have an answer. Not even a noble lie to feed him, until he was old enough to understand.

And that made me want to break down all over again. I stood up, pulling my bottoms tighter, hugging myself as I stood next to the dark window, staring out at the lights in the parking lot through the blinds.

A drunken neighbor staggered through the darkness. He dropped a bottle, making a loud clang in the night, swearing to himself as he tumbled down to pick it up.

Fuck my life.

Fuck. Everything.

I'd put myself here because I'd gotten involved with the wrong man. Maybe I deserved it, misery as punishment, but the baby sleeping behind me sure didn't.

The longer I stared through the dusty glass, watching other tenants come and go, revving their old cars long into the night, the more it caught up with me.

Half an hour later, I buried my face in my hands.

I remembered everything. I hurt and bled over it, too. The harder and better I fought, the worse it caught up with me in the end, and tonight was one of
those
evil nights.

Oh, God.
The times gone by swallowed me alive.

* * *

I
was working
at my Uncle Robby's bar after school when they came in. Two loud, hollering groups of frat boys, passing by for spring break, tearing through Seddon on the way to Atlanta, or maybe the beaches further south.

It didn't take them five minutes for the first one to grab my ass. The smug, shiny eyed asshole pinched it – hard – and eyeballed me a hundred times harder than the menu I'd just handed him.

“Yeah, I think I want the special,” he said, shooting me a savage look. “How much for a quickie?”

He pulled his hand away to slap the table while his fellow assholes jeered, high-fiving themselves.

“Fuck, man, you looked so serious!” one of them said, roaring. “Keep it up and you'll have her panties off by sundown. These bitches love that shit.”

Without missing a step, I retreated, fighting the urge to shoot him a dirty look over my shoulder. Past experiences taught me fighting back would only invite more trouble. I could still hear them by the bar.

“Have her bring us another pitcher, boys! We'll fuckin' save some for her when she gets off her shift. These bitches around here are all dirt poor trailer trash. They'll slobber your knob like their life depends on it for a couple drinks!”

Bastards.
I swore underneath my breath, angrily punching the keys on the bar's old computer for the order.

Worst of all, the place was empty except for the dozen college boys, and maybe one or two drunken regulars over in the corner, staring sadly into their beers. Uncle Robby made a tidy profit from managing this place since I'd been a little girl – but he did it on the backs of the biggest losers and worst tourist chumps around.

Seddon attracted scum like a stagnant pond.

I served them, day in and day out, the least I could do to pay my uncle back for taking me in, now that mama was so sick.

I needed the money bad, too. Scrimping for bad tips here was better than nothing. I'd need every dime I could get with summer coming up, and no good future in sight.

Homework hadn't been going so well. I'd be lucky to graduate if I couldn't get my grades up.

College wasn't even on the radar. Not that I had any shame.

Walking away with a GED or a high school diploma was a big win in this town, and I'd at least manage that. The rest could wait.

If I could buy time, I'd lock down hope with it.

I'd just turned eighteen a couple weeks ago, after all. Time was on my side, ready to help me kick ass and take names.

There wasn't anything to worry about, except surviving yet another rowdy night, praying the pricks at the table wouldn't stiff me too badly on tips.

I tried not to laugh out loud because I already knew they would.

Half an hour drifted by. Scrambling to keep the tables supplied with cold beer and peanuts, I ran back and forth between the kitchen and diner, wondering why there was such a holdup with the round of burgers.

Uncle Robby was hitting the bottle again, which always meant he made mistakes as the bar's substitute cook. Charlie, our one and only true chef, was out today.

I busted through the double doors and looked around, covering my mouth. The strong scent of burning meat hit me the second I was in, and I looked at the empty grill. My Uncle wasn't manning it anymore because he'd burned himself along with the beef.

I ran over, watching him nursing his hand, swearing up a storm as he halfheartedly ran it under water.

“Here, let me have a look,” I said softly, pushing my way to the small sink. Several puffy red blisters were already rising on his skin.

“Oh, hell!” I let out a whistle and shook my head. “Ouch! Looks bad, Uncle Robby! You should take off and get it looked at.”

“Shit, no, Summer. Can't be taking time away. Who the hell's gonna cook up the orders? I'm the only man here who knows how to make this shit when Charlie ain't here.”

I looked around desperately, anxiety weighing in my stomach. Ugh, I couldn't argue with that.

Lately, I'd been paying more attention to the kitchen. I'd seen Charlie back here making sandwiches. Sometimes, I helped him with the prep work, slicing bread and veggies while he worked the grill.

“Fuck!” Uncle Robby tried to grip the spatula. He instantly dropped it from the pain, letting it clatter into the sink.

“Don't do this to yourself! I can take it from here, Uncle. I've watched you and Charlie cook
tons
of times! Go get it looked at. Trust me.”

Wincing, he stared at me, his wrinkled face crinkling up before he let out a long sigh. “Okay, dammit. We'll try. Hurts like I picked up a fucking wasp's nest. You know where the meat and all the fixings are?”

I nodded. He hesitated for a minute longer before he finally headed for the door, stopping one more time and looking back at me. I was already pulling apart the frozen patties, ready to start cooking.

“You run into any trouble with the work or the money, you tell Tina, okay? She's in charge 'til I get back.”

“Got it!” I hollered after him, breathing a sigh of relief when the door slammed shut.

I worked like a fiend in the kitchen. In no time, I had half the order ready, only stumbling a little bit when I plunged the fries into oil.

It all smelled heavenly. My stomach growled, and I smiled, glad that I'd finally had a chance to do something right today.

The small victories meant a lot. I couldn't do much to help mama with her bills or the sickness eating her up. I'd never be a grade A student. But, damn, if I couldn't cook like my life depended on it.

I was so busy prepping all the food I didn't hear the heavy double doors open.

“Yo, where the fuck's our eats?” a voice said behind me.

I spun around and came face-to-face with the same bleary eyed idiot who'd grabbed me before. My hands shot up, and motioned to the plates with burgers off to the side.

“Just a few more minutes! I'm sorry about the wait, sir, we're a little short handed.” Calling him anything besides
asshole
caught in my throat, but a little southern hospitality went a long way toward smoothing things over, especially in crisis situations like this.

“What the fuck?” He looked around. “There's only six plates here. Food's gonna be cold by the time you're done half-assing it! Let me help.”

Help?!
He couldn't be serious.

Before I could say anything, he lunged for the frozen patties next to me, haphazardly slapping them on the grill.

“Hey, hey! Stop! You need to go back to your seat. You're not allowed back here. I already told you, it's coming –”

“Bullshit.” He shoved me to the side, grabbing the spatula out of my hand.” Move over, doll, and let a man show you how the job's done. You can thank me later with those pretty little lips.”