Never Kiss an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (3 page)

“You owe me, asshole! Last time I'm gonna say it...you think this is easy?” His face creased wicked as he stared at his girl in my arms, kicking an trying her best to scream. “No! It's my choice. The only fucking one I got. I'm a dead man, but Cora...she can live. She's got a chance if you get her the fuck away from me.”

Time to leave this shitshow. I left the bottle behind after all.

Last thing this girl needed in her system right now was booze. She'd puke it up if it didn't kill her first, knowing her old man was determined to leave this planet, and leave her to
us.

“Come on,” I whispered, using my softest voice. Still came out like a growl. I let her thrash for a few more seconds, holding her arms against my chest.

I'd keep on doing it 'til she realized her fight was hopeless, or else her arms and legs gave out. That hard-on I'd had earlier?

Fucking thing died in my pants. Even I wasn't a big enough bastard not to feel this shit stabbing me straight through the skull like a dagger.

She was losing everything. Saw herself spiraling down the drain, into a whole new world leading God only knew where. And all because the piece of shit at the table made her – and the Prez obliged his greedy ass for reasons I wasn't following.

Jimmy and the Prez kept mouthing something to each other I couldn't hear. I held her and rocked her real gentle for a few more seconds, 'til finally that fire in her belly went out.

“Good girl. We'll hang out for a little bit in the garage before we find out where we're going next, yeah?”

She didn't fight when I led her away. Hell, if anything, those blue eyes in her pretty little face reminded me of marbles, so soft and vibrant when they were brand new, and now they were getting tarnished as fuck.

I let her go once we stepped outside, giving her a little space, but never taking my eyes off her.

Couldn't wrap my head around it. Nobody this pretty should've come from that drunk's balls, and she was like a fucking ten.

Early twenties, tits so full they would've overflowed in my hand, an ass just begging to be spanked when she mouthed off. I wanted to wrap her long gold locks around my fingers, feel every fiber tense while those long legs hidden underneath her skirt hugged me.

And that wasn't stopping to think what the hell was up with the schoolteacher garb neither. Fucking shit.

My gaze followed her to her daddy's work bench, where she plopped down and smoothed her hair back, drying the tears on her cheeks with one sleeve.

“What do you do for a living, babe? You look like a real...professional.”

Hot piece of ass
was what I wanted to say. But something told me a chick like this wouldn't appreciate that kinda compliment the way a club bitch would.

She looked up, her eyes narrowed. “I'll go where you want, but I don't have to answer your questions. Daddy said you wouldn't hurt me. I'm going to trust you'll keep that promise.”

My hands formed fists at my side. It was like the little minx was challenging me.

No, of fucking course I wouldn't hurt her. She'd been battered enough for the day, and no man in this club ever got away with roughing up a woman.

But they didn't ordinarily stand there with their dicks hanging out and nothing to say neither, and I took her shit without barking back, just this once.

She deserved a break, as long as she cooperated on the way home to the clubhouse, or wherever the fuck Dust wanted to take her.

“Well? Are you going to stand there or tell me where we're going? If these are daddy's dying wishes, or something, I'd kind of like to know what's in store next.” She wrinkled her nose. “What are you, anyway? My bodyguard?”

I turned my back and didn't say shit.
Fuck me.

For a nervous little girl who looked like she'd just stepped straight outta 1910, she had one helluva mouth behind those plush pink lips.

I turned to her slowly, cherry picking my words. “I'm the guy who's gonna make sure your life doesn't wind up more fucked up than it already is, Cora. If the Prez says I'm your keeper, then that's the way it'll be. You're shot to shit right now because of what your old man just pulled, I get it. That's the only reason why I'm standing here like a good boy instead of marching over and stuffing a gag in your mouth.”

She rolled her eyes, and my fingers twitched. If we made it outta here without another fucking scene, I'd be tossing and turning tonight for sure, imagining how good she'd squirm with my big hand slapping her sweet ass 'til she learned some damned respect.

Her mouth popped open, but whatever sass she had planned was drowned out by new commotion inside the house. Prez started screaming at the drunk.

“You stupid toasted asshole – let go! You're not getting a hold of this shit! I'm not standing here while you splatter your damned brains all over your place. Fuck's sake, Jimmy, your little girl's standing right outside. Just breathe.”

“Fuck you! I know what I gotta do, there ain't another choice!” The drunk's voice sounded rushed, desperate, angry. “Outta my way, Dusty. Don't make me shoot you, too.”

Shit. I stood on the step leading inside, one hand on my nine, ready to bust in if the standoff got ugly. I could feel Cora's tense little eyes all over me, standing behind me, scared for her life.

“You won't. Give it the fuck back!” Dust exploded, his voice so loud it was barely muffled by the wall between us. “Don't be a goddamned idiot. Please. For her sake, if you don't give two fucks about your own anymore. We'll figure shit out with the Torches, take you away and stash you somewhere safe, same as her. Come on. It's not too late, Jimmy. You've been like a brother to me. I'll never walk away easy if I let it go down like –“

One deafening gunshot silenced the Cap'n.

Cora jumped. I pulled my nine, and my fist hit the door, making enough space to peek inside.

“Daddy? Daddy?!” I heard her call behind me, her voice dying in a brutal whisper.

Dust was heading toward me, a grim look on his face. “He fucking did it. Couldn't talk the stupid motherfucker out of shit. Nothing left to do except take care of the girl like we planned,” he growled.

Prez punched the button for the garage, and we listened to it creak open. “On it, Prez. Cora?“

I walked toward her, ready to grab her hand and help her up. “Shit. Girl, I'm real sorry for what just went down. You never should've heard any of that. I –“

Felt like I was touching ice when I pushed her fingers through mine. She just stood there, her eyes barely bigger than her open mouth. The girl had gone damned near catatonic, and who could fucking blame her?

I helped her onto my ride. Wrapped her arms around me, and told her to hold on tight, making sure she could at least do that before we moved.

It wasn't 'til she was on the back of my bike and I had a helmet strapped to her head that she started to wail. Dust revved his engine and pointed a finger at the road.

Forward. No delays.

I nodded. It was a long, hellish ride through Knoxville. I made damned sure Cora's arms stayed locked around me, and I held her small, soft hand the whole way home.

If I could've fixed the hole in her old man's head and killed him all over again for putting her through this gruesome bullshit, I'd have done it in a heartbeat.

But the Prez was dead right. Nothing left to do except keep her safe. Well, just one more thing, after the big two.

Protect her.

Keep her sane.

And find out what the ever-living
fuck
was going on here.

T
he bike's tires spun, loud and dizzy, but they had nothing on my head.

A couple hours ago, I'd been finishing up my paperwork with Mister Fisher, the kind, older teacher helping me intern in his ninth grade math class. Daddy had been sick at home the last few days, so I'd stopped at the drug store on my way home and picked up some cold medicine.

Now, he was dead. I'd heard the gunshot that killed him, put him out of the soul killing misery dripping off him like the sweat and liquor I'd smelled the last time we embraced.

Now, I was pressed up against this hulk in his ink and leather, this utter bastard who looked like a Viking and talked like he'd just stepped out of prison.

Now, I couldn't begin to piece together what was left of my life.

I should've snapped. Shattered. Died on the spot.

Instead, I was riding with this demon. My mind, my soul, my heart in ruins, broken so suddenly they turned me into a zombie, the only thing that kept me from throwing a fit and falling onto the road blurring by beneath  us.

It didn't help that the monster who'd forced his way into my life was handsome in a rogue
I'm-going-to-fuck-you-up
or just
fuck-you
kind of way.

Big, brutal shoulders that would've made any linebacker or champion lifter jealous. Ice blue eyes, colder and darker than mine. Light cinnamon colored hair lay thick on his head, connecting with the solid stubble on his chin, sandpaper that looked like it would scratch in all the right ways against a woman's skin.

He looked too good to be bad, but I wasn't a fool. He had the patch, just like the older man riding ahead of us. The winged skull with two guns to the side that told me daddy had buried himself
very
deep, before he'd taken his life.

I'd teased him about being my bodyguard before I heard the fateful bullet, yes. But to be honest, I knew exactly what he was.

My jailer.

And it wasn't like I had any choice. Something had been eating at daddy for months.

I could never get it out of him. I should've seen the signs when he'd taken up the bottle, hard stuff he hadn't touched since mom left us years ago.

I closed my eyes and grasped the devil tighter, trying not to enjoy his warmth. I'd never ridden a bike before today. Cool spring winds tore at my face, and they were the only thing that reminded me I was alive, except his heat.

My hands smoothed on his rock hard abs – too hard for a man who probably spent his free time chasing skirt and drinking beer. What he did with the rest of his time, I didn't even want to know.

These men were criminals. I'd heard daddy mention the Deadly Pistols MC every so often growing up.

Once, when we were fishing, he'd told me one of them was his friend, before he'd joined the force. Just a neighbor kid he'd stayed in touch with all through his career. He'd grown into a man my father drank with a couple times a year, even after he left the Knoxville PD last winter.

I had a sneaking suspicion the President, Dust, was that friend. Some buddy, letting daddy murder himself in our own kitchen...

Hell, had he
really
killed himself? Or had the biker done him in?

I tried not to cry. Numbness iced my veins, froze my synapses, made it hard to think about anything except how royally screwed I was since I came home to an absolute whirlwind.

My hands instinctively clung tighter to the biker's cut as we approached his clubhouse. Their club logo loomed large, painted on the wall, taunting me with its sick bony smile and vacant eyes.

As soon as Firefly stopped the bike, I jumped off and heard him run after me. I started vomiting underneath a spindly tree before he could grab me.

The bastard held me while I let out all the pain, crying again, splattering my shoes. I couldn't stand to look at him, but God help me, I did it anyway.

I had to see the face of the man who held the key to my whole future, even if it would set my ruined stomach off a second time.

“What?!” I demanded. “You enjoying this, or something?”

“Fuck you, if that's what you think.” His stark blue eyes softened. “I'm figuring out how the hell I'm gonna get your guts back in order so you don't join your old man on the other side. It's been a rough fucking day, darlin'. Been forever since I took care of anybody else.”

“I don't need you to take care of me!” I coughed, spat at the ground, and shoved my hands against his chest as hard as I could.

The whole world started to spin. God, I was sick. Dying, maybe. I felt like I'd pass out, and maybe that would be a mercy.

A weak smile pulled at his lips, the last thing I saw before I blacked out. He held me softly, lowered his lips to my ear, and spoke one word.

“Bullshit.”

* * * *

T
wo days in this dirty, cramped room. Two days I should've been studying for my state license, scoring tests, and helping Mister Fisher prep the Geometry lesson next week.

Goddamn it.
He'd know by next week I'd dropped off the face of the earth.

These bikers weren't letting me go anytime soon, and I'd be lucky if I wasn't blacklisted across the county for jobs before I got out of here.

Mister Tall, Dark, and Crude wasn't having any protests.

He brought me food, water, and asked me if I needed anything else a couple times a day. Mostly salads and deli wraps from the grocery store across town, about the healthiest stuff I could get him to fetch me without starting a scene.

Eating cost me half the day's energy. When I wasn't thinking about daddy getting himself into trouble and ending his life one wall away from me, I buried my face in the pillow, weeping for the life I'd just had ripped open by a tactical nuke.

Nothing made sense.

The fact that whatever was weighing on him was so bad he'd had me snatched away before he'd put the gun to his head should've scared the hell out of me.

Honestly, it didn't. Nothing hurt worse than losing everything in a single afternoon.

Too sudden. Too savage. Too shocking.

I couldn't get over it. I seriously wondered if I ever would.

No, no, a hundred times no. I wouldn't even roll to face him when I heard the door pop open.

“Chicken ranch with lots of lettuce and kale, babe. Just like you asked.” Firefly stood next to me on the bed, holding the bag, until I spun around and snatched it from his hands.

He gave me a death glare as I ripped into the bag, plucked out the wrap, and tore through the deli wrapping paper like a starving raccoon. I took a big bite before I looked into his ice cold eyes.