Never Kiss an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (4 page)

“How long are you going to keep me in here, living like a bum?”

“As long as the Prez says you staying here is law. You see this shit?” He tapped his chest, a small rectangular patch stitched in blood red beneath his name. ENFORCER, it said, as if I needed a reminder.

“Yeah, I can still read, Fireball. I was going to be a teacher.”

His tough face crinkled, anger and amusement warring over a handsome canvass. He seemed to hate it when I used the wrong name.

What kind of name was Firefly for a biker, anyway? At least Fireball would've fit the explosive rage I could sense in him, churning just beneath the surface.

“That's who I am. Enforcer. Sergeant-at-Arms. Means I keep order around here for the club. Usually, that's breaking up drunken brawls and arguments between the brothers, but it extends to you, too, darlin'. Just as long as Prez keeps me posted to keeping your ass fed and watered.”

“Uh, huh. How should I salute you, sir? Isn't that how all this pretend soldier stuff works with you biker boys?”

His temples popped as he clenched his jaw. Whatever. I wasn't here to make him happy, and I definitely wasn't here to flirt.

“You don't need to salute shit when you're not wearing a patch. You just gotta respect it. Every group needs discipline, woman. Count yourself lucky. What we've got going on here ain't half as bad as the five years I spent in Kandahar. U.S. Army does a decent job of teaching a man some respect.”

Something you could fucking learn,
his eyes said, but his lips refrained.

I blinked. No way.
This
six foot something human pitbull was a vet?

“How long were you in?” I said, swallowing my sarcasm with a big gulp of water. “Daddy served too. Short stint in the National Guard. Not that it did him much good.”

“Too long to live a normal life. The shit that happened over there – that's a big part of what I'm doing here.” His eyes hardened, and he stared me down, as if he'd suddenly said too much. “Don't regret a damned thing. This is the life. Rank means a lot to me, and so does respect. A little peace and order goes a long fuckin' way.”

“Yeah, I figured. Daddy was all about the neatness and discipline too, except for the times he hit the bottle.” I stared at my shoes, wanting to punch the nearest wall.

He'd been drinking the last time, hadn't he? Right before he...

“You don't need to worry about that shit anymore, babe. It's over. All that matters is keeping you safe. We'll get his ashes out of the county for you when all this is over. You can pay your respects and get on with your life.”

If I wasn't so sick to my stomach, I would've laughed in his face. He talked like it was all so easy – like I hadn't just had the whole world torn away from me.

Like dough smashed through a cookie cutter lined with barbed wire. The old world was gone. I'd entered one that was totally illegal, dangerous, and alien to everything I'd ever known.

Firefly plopped down on the bed next to me, shaking the beaten mattress. I bounced up and down, and for a second, I imagined the sounds we'd make here under very different circumstances.

I bit my lip and blushed. What the hell was wrong with me?

Twenty-two years, and I was still a virgin, that's what. No amount of grief could stop me from thinking all about the things a big man like him could do to me, naked and raw.

“Pay my respects?” I said numbly. “Why?”

“Huh? You loved your old man, right?” His eyes widened.

“Sure. But right now, I hate him for leaving me. I hate him for bringing me here. I hate him for putting me at your mercy, Fireball.”

I saw the little tick in his lips every time I butchered his name.

What a bitch I'd become. I wanted to choke and die on my own bitter words, especially when I saw his eyes narrow and his face harden again.

“Fuck this, Cora. You can cool your heels alone and sort this shit out by yourself. I'm the man who's looking after you because I'm told to. I'm not your fuckin' therapist.” His look bled murder. Part of me wanted to apologize, if only it wouldn't make me feel worse.

Daddy was the only one who owed anyone an apology – and he was dead.

“You're dealing with a lot, I get it, but a girl only gets so many passes. Only gonna tell you one more time, darlin'. My name's Firefly, and if you keep on going with that Fireball shit, I won't give a damn how fucked in the head you are. I'll bend you over, rip off that skirt, and give your sweet ass the whoopin' it deserves for blowing smoke in my face.”

He jumped up, headed for the door, and slammed it so hard behind him the walls shook.

Jaw, meet floor. My mouth hung open for at least a solid minute.

Thank God the only mirror here was in the little bathroom attached to the bedroom, or else I'd have seen my face beet red.

If I wanted to stay alive, I couldn't keep messing with this man. I'd have to find another way to stay sane, and deal with my loss, or else I'd only drown deeper in the hell waters rising inch by bitter inch.

* * * *

T
he next time I woke up, it was late. I'd thought the loud barking was in my dreams, at first, but then I sat up and shook myself awake.

No, it wasn't just my imagination. Someone had brought a dog into the clubhouse. A big one by the sounds of it.

I couldn't sleep through this commotion. It surprised me, since the place had been eerily quiet since I'd arrived. I stood up, straightened my clothes, and walked toward the door, pressing my ear against the banged up wood.

“Fucking shit, brother! I think he's hairier and got a bigger dick than you!” a rough voice said. Then the dog let out three more explosive barks and a whole group of men burst out laughing.

“Prez is gonna shit bricks when he sees this!”

“Club's gonna go broke feeding that mutt, Veep.”

“Shut up. He's a pure bred Irish Wolfhound. If you boys think I haven't already cleared it with Dust, you've emptied out your skulls. Only pockets running dry'll be mine because he's my boy. Not the club's.”

“I like him, Joker. He's got a good temperament for you.” A woman's voice, soft and pleasant, cut through the gruff jeers and bawdy laughter.

Then the dog started barking again and everybody roared.

“Fuck, we've got church in an hour. That hole in the gate won't hold him. Ain't no time to fix it. You'll have to stick him somewhere 'til we're done.”

“Yeah, yeah. Already on it.”

The door flew open, and I almost fell over. Caught myself just in time against the wall, before I came face-to-face with a tall, dark haired man with even crazier eyes than Firefly. Next to him, the biggest, hairiest gray dog I'd ever seen in my life.

“Shit. Forgot he had you in here. Were you sleeping?”

I shook my head, already having an ugly feeling what he wanted. I looked through a small group of bikers and the regal looking brunette, who shot me a look of sympathy and surprise.

“Need a place to park my dog while the brothers meet. It'll only be a couple hours or so. He's a good boy, he won't bother you none.” He looked down at the big dog. The animal's mouth was open, his tongue out, and he wagged his furry tail. “Sorry to barge in like this.”

“He can keep me company,” I said with a sigh, hoping he was right about the giant being well behaved.

“Thanks. I'll be back for him before you know it.”

The dog stepped inside. Several rough looking men stared, and the brunette turned to one of them, still eyeballing me before the door closed.

The monster came up to me and laid his head in my lap, letting out a soft whine. No, no monster at all, I guessed, just another lost soul like me.

“Just you and me now, boy,” I said nervously.

What had the man with the VP patch called him? An Irish Wolfhound? Jesus, he was half the size of the giant men around here. I reached out tentatively, running my fingers through his thick, gorgeous fur.

The dog licked my hand. Wherever he'd come from, he wasn't as hardened as these men. Something about that made me smile.

This week had been nothing but brutal. For now, I was grateful for the happy distraction.

Didn't take long for the dog to let out a huge yawn, and then he curled up next to the bed, looking way too comfy for his gigantic frame. I settled in next to him, leaving my hand hanging over the bed, stroking his fur as I drifted off.

A tear ran down my cheek, the last one of the day, maybe. Certainly not the last I'd have as long as I was at the Deadly Pistols' mercy.

The Wolfhound wasn't as distressed as me. He belonged here. I didn't.

But we were both pets to the club now.

If, by some miracle, I survived all this, I vowed I'd move somewhere I never had to hear the roar of a motorcycle again.

“W
e've been waiting for this damned meeting for three fucking days, Prez, with all due respect. You gonna spill the beans about why the fuck I'm playing babysitter to this chick, and how long I'm gonna have to do it?”

We all sat around the table. Dust hadn't even looked at me since he stepped in. He'd been gone for at least a solid day since he'd come by the clubhouse to make some calls, telling me to make sure Cora stayed locked up and comfortable in my room.

Meanwhile, I swallowed her fucking vinegar as best I could without making good on my threats. Kept my distance, too. When I wasn't bringing her food or checking up on her ungrateful ass, I slept on a bench next to the goddamned bar.

“You're doing her a solid, Firefly. Don't you fucking doubt it.” Skin looked at me, smug as ever, his smile twisting the long scar on his cheek.

Bastard thought he was hot shit since he'd got the club's books in orders as Treasurer the last couple months. 'Course, that rich girl he'd claimed as his probably had a lot to do with it.

I'd be grinning ear-to-ear too if I was getting my cock sucked every fucking night by pussy that sweet on my balls.

“Didn't ask for your opinion. I'm talking to the Prez!” My fist slammed the table so hard I could feel my bones rattling in my wrists.

Next to me, Joker looked over, a savage warning in his cold, dark eyes. Shit, that boy had nothing but death glares to hand out. I counted myself the only man here who the Veep didn't intimidate.

“Forget it,” Dust said to his right hand man. “He deserves to know. This whole club deserves an answer. An old friend of mine cashed in a favor before he decided to blow his fucking brains out.” Prez stared past all of us.

Guess he had every reason to be bitter after failing to stop the selfish, drunken prick from offing himself.

Some friend. The fuck wouldn't even listen when the Prez tried to save his life, and now he'd sent himself and his daughter to hell.

Crawl, Sixty, and a couple other guys looked on at our chief. Their eyes demanded answers. Every man at this table wanted to know why this shit involved the club.

Whatever the fuck was going on, it roped us all in. Knew that much. Dust wouldn't fuck us up like this over any personal biz. Not even black and bloody shit that only mattered to him.

“Jimmy used to be a smart man. Mister Upright Citizen, had himself a badge, a babe, and the nice little daughter who's now playing guest in our clubhouse.” Prez looked at us, folded his hands, his gray eyes going cold. “That's the way he sold himself to John Q. Public, anyway. Behind the scenes, he was dirty as hell, taking kickbacks from my old man, Early. He pulled this club's sack outta boiling water dozens of times on the force, covering up our loose ends before any Feds came sniffing. We paid him well for it. Everybody was happy. The boy put his pay to good use, too, raising a family. Did everything there by the book 'til his woman got slammed by the Big C.”

A couple guys coughed. Half the boys in this room had lost somebody to cancer at one time or another. I hated that fucking shit. It didn't give a fuck about good or bad, patch or civilian, man or woman.

Jimmy still didn't deserve a shred of sympathy. Too damned bad I started to feel it anyway, pathetic and screwed up as he'd been.

“Don't give me that look, boys. He checked out like a coward, and I know it. Nobody at this table needs to pretend my buddy was a martyr,” Dust said, pulling out his lighter. “I ain't blind. He died a fucking idiot. Went off the rails after his wife died. Started to do every sin in the book just to escape being lonely. Poor bastard took up gambling when he wasn't hitting the bottle. Damned fool almost lost his house on gambling debt. That should've been his warning. He didn't listen.”

“So, what?” I growled. “Where do the Torches come in? I know they're a part of this, or you wouldn't be talking about this dead asshole here in church.”

“They've got legacy money. Fuckers used to pass out loans like candy, especially to crooked cops across Dixie. Jimmy lapped it up to feed his demon. Bastard made a lot of trips to Atlanta – some Homeland security shit he had to go to after the planes hit the towers – as if any goddamned terrorist would ever go after Knoxville or the Tri Cities.”

Sixty snorted, smiled, and then wiped the stupid grin off his face when Dust gave him an ugly look. The Prez leaned back in his chair, fished out his pipe, and lit it before he continued.

“They gave him more than he really needed. Thought it'd do 'em good to stay on the good side of a Tennessee sheriff, right before the Deads rolled in and fucked up their city, giving them something more important to worry about.”

Shit.
I could see where this was going before the Prez got there, and I balled my fists underneath the table, ready to turn the fucking thing over.

I didn't feel bad anymore for the dead, dumbshit who'd caught his own bullet. He'd walked into the hornet's nest and got chewed up bad.

“War costs a lot of money. Lord knows this club's still learning that lesson, getting back on our feet after my old man ran us dry and the Deads caught up to us.” Dust looked at Skin, remembering all the shit the club had gone through to get his old lady free from her dirty pimp, plus the even dirtier debt she owed to our biggest rival, the Deadhands MC. “Well, the Torches came calling for every dime. Told him he'd better raid the police department's accounts if he had to, deliver some goods on the side, whatever the fuck it took to dig him almost two hundred-K out of the hole. Jimmy was stupid, but he wasn't a total fuckin' moron. He wouldn't do it. Resigned instead of raiding county funds.”