Never Kiss an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (47 page)

My orgasm throttled me, caused my pussy to tense around him, sucking greedily at his cock. The begging wasn't over, even though I couldn't speak. Every inch of me wanted more from him.

More, more, so much more.

I didn't know how I'd walk out of here with my sanity intact. Hell, Ricky and his Johns had shattered it long before I ever heard the name Skin. But the biker's name was all I could feel in my soul now, filling the holes torn wide open by the pimp and his bastards, as surely as he filled my flesh.

I opened my mouth and tried to scream his name one more time. It didn't work. Nothing more than a squeak came out while we were frozen in bliss. When the firestorm lifted and I could finally breathe, he buried me in another kiss, wiping away the new fears and obsessions he'd planted in my head.

Tonight was ours, and I was okay. Hell, I was
good,
something I hadn't been since the last year at university.

I ran my hands up and down his chest, owning the moment. I had to stay here, every precious second, one with Skin and the night.

It was all I could do to stay happy. I ignored the foolish part of me that wanted him to own me forever.

I
couldn't shake the whole night fucking her. My eyes were still sore as I sat there in church, waiting for the Prez to get his shit together, listening to the steady
thud-thud-thud
of Joker slamming the knife on the table next to me.

The Veep's place at the table had about a thousand little cuts from all the years where he'd put his hand down flat on the old wood, stabbing his switchblade between his fingers. For some reason, it seemed weirder than ever today, watching him lost in his own tortured world 'til the Prez put a hand to his mouth and let out a sharp whistle.

“Fuck!” Sixty snarled next to me, covering his ear. Loud noises got his fucked up ear, ever since he'd been too close to a grenade going off a couple years back.

Joker stopped trying to take his fingers off and looked up at the Prez. Dust gave him the same dirty look I'd seen a thousand times before.

Same old club. Same old shit.

What wasn't the same was the way I'd fucked that sweet, wounded woman sleeping off the sex in my bedroom right now. It was twisted, it was playing with the last fire on earth I should, but damn if I regretted a thing.

No. No way. Fuck no.

My cock throbbed, wishing I'd kept her up for another hour. But then I wouldn't have gotten a lick of sleep at all.

Shit. What the fuck are you gonna do?

The question kept tossing in my mind. If only the incredible sex was all I could remember. Too bad fucking her brought these other feelings, this need to treat her like more than a piece of meat and a hostage.

“Let's get on with it, shall we, boys?” The Prez said darkly, training his dirty look on me next. “Your turn to brief us first, brother. The whore's your business, like you promised. You've had plenty of time to cook up a plan to get what we're owed. Spill it.”

Fuck.
I wracked my brain through last night's haze. It took all I had not to freeze up as all the brothers looked at me, waiting for this grand scheme I was supposed to have hatched by now to get us the quarter million.

“We let her walk.”

Boom. My words wouldn't have been any less surprising than a pipe bomb going off underneath our table.

Several jaws dropped. The Prez cocked his head like he hadn't heard me right.

“Skin...what the fuck? You'd better be kidding me, brother.”

“Don't think he is,” Firefly said, standing up and flexing his fists, his huge jaw twitching. “The girl's got him by the balls. I heard those two yesterday. Up all night, fucking their little hearts out.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.
All the sirens blasted in my head, especially when I saw the stocky boy walking around the table toward me, angling to make this shit physical if I didn't think of something, and
think fast.

“Come on, guys, it isn't like that.”

“Bullshit!” Firefly spat at the floor, ripping me up by the shoulders.

The bastard had brute strength. I couldn't get a good grip on him to fight back and free myself before he slammed me against the wall, rattling every bone in my body.

“We're disappointed in you, Skin. Your weakness has always been pussy, just like your old man.” He grabbed my throat and tightened his grip before I could say shit. “We've been more than goddamned generous with you. Now, you're the only boy getting pussy in this joint, and you wanna let this bird fly and leave the club empty-fucking-handed – after all we've been through!”

I saw his other fist coming up, ready to break my nose. Shit.

My knee came up and slammed into his gut. I knew the big Enforcer's weak point. It didn't fail me here, he stumbled back against the table and doubled over, struggling for air.

Everybody else was already up on their feet.

I tried to make a break, and ran right into Joker. I got in the first blow, but he had the edge, pulling at my cut and holding his cold blade against my throat.

“Try to run, brother, and I'll skin every fucking symbol of this club right off you.”

I held my breath, knowing he meant business. Hell, I'd watched him do it a few times to assholes who deserved it. The Veep was crazy enough to do it to one of our own too, as soon as the Prez said jump.

Speaking of the Prez, he was heading toward me. Angry, sharp determination flickered in his pale blue eyes. His lips peeled back, and I saw the gold tooth set in his mouth shining like a beacon, illuminating the only words that could bring me mercy or pure hell.

“Prez, go easy, aren't we jumping the damned gun?” Sixty pipped up. “He's gotta have something for us. Skin's all brains. He's never let us down. Cut the man some fucking slack.”

Crawl nodded at his side, sweeping his dark hair over his face, unable to hide his worried expression. Both my brothers backed me up, and they'd try to save my ass if it came to a vote.

Assuming you're worth saving.
The nasty thought ran through my head.

I had to give them something. I had to prove I hadn't lost my mind from getting pussy whipped.

Shit, I had to prove it to myself. I'd just had the best fuck of my life, and I'd promised her the moon, but damn if I'd let her get to me.

I owed this club my life. I looked up as the Prez approached, steadying my gaze, refusing to give a shit when his eyes flashed murder.

“Firefly's right. You've got your head all fucked up by this stray pussy cat we've let you take in. You've got ten seconds to start talking, and tell me why I shouldn't have the club drag her out back and find out the best way to get that money from her rich folks ourselves...”

Shit.
She wouldn't survive a club interrogation. The guys wouldn't hurt her – I didn't think – but they'd scare the shit out of her, undo everything I'd tried to give her last night, dig up all the shit the pimp had done to her.

Good thing I came ready. I had an Ace in my hand, a little extra card I'd picked up from the pimp before I shot his shit-for-brains out. It just might stall them from doing something reckless and stupid.

“Send one of the prospects out to the garage right now. There's a black bag out there, next to my bike. I was saving it to bring to your office privately, Prez, but since you want all this shit out in the open...”

Dust's eyes widened with dark amusement.
You'd better not be fucking with me,
they said.

He looked at Crawl. “Step outside and tell Lion to bring us whatever the fuck he's talking about. Hurry up!”

Everybody waited while our brother opened the door and said a few words to the prospects standing guard. Lion and Tinman both took off, returning a minute later. The Prez saw Lion's scruffy face holding my leather saddlebag, sagging with the shit I'd stuffed in it.

“Come on, up on the table,” Dust ordered, waving him forward. As soon as the prospect dropped the bag, he gave him another wave, and Crawl shut the door behind him, locking them both out 'til they'd earned their bottom rockers.

“Go on. Open it. It's not a full quarter million, but it's a sign of good faith. This club's all I think about, Prez. Here's your proof that's true. I
won't
let us walk away with our pockets hanging out, and I'm not gonna stand here and listen to the shit that's being talked about me.”

“Firefly.”

Soon as the Prez said his name, the Enforcer moved, ripping open the zipper. His eyes bugged out when he saw the fat stacks of cash spilling out on the table, mostly smaller bills like fifties and twenties, mingled with hundreds.

It was a complete fucking mess. I wasn't sure how the hell the pimp counted it. Hell, maybe he'd been too drugged up when the Deads dropped off his down payment for Meg, or else too busy shitting his pants.

He'd done enough of that before I blew his worthless brains out. I took a quick estimate and pegged it around twenty-five thousand. There'd been twice as much to start, but I'd divided that and given it to the whores when I opened up their rooms to deliver their pink slips.

Sure, they might go out and blow the shit on street smack, but at least it'd get them outta that rat's nest and into the city. The closer I got them to the shelter listed on that paper, the better.

Dust pushed Firefly and the other boys aside, reaching into my bag, pulling out fistfuls of cash and spreading it across our table.

“I'll be fucking hog-tied.” He was still fisting big stacks of bills when he spun around and looked at me. “Where the hell did you get this?”

“Settling accounts. The pimp had a payday twice as big as the shit we confiscated from him last week. That was his down payment for selling her off, and it's ours now.”

“Aw, shit.” Dust's fists dropped, holding the cash limply at his sides, shaking his head. “Don't tell me...you killed the stupid sonofabitch?”

“Yeah.” No sense in hiding it.

None of the men in this room were stupid, even if they couldn't crunch numbers or cloak our operations from the Feds like I could.

“Fuck me alive.”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later. You know it, Prez, and so do I.” I swallowed, preparing for the biggest gamble yet. “The fucker was tight with the Deads. He was a cash cow, besides being a walking sewer. I don't regret a damned thing. I brought the club some red meat and buried his carcass in the usual place, where nobody'll find his bones for a hundred years. Sure, the fucks from Georgia will notice he's missing, but they're coming for us anyway sooner or later, after what happened to their guys...”

Sixty, Crawl, and I shared an uneasy look. I wasn't gonna say anything more about that and blow their cover, even though the Prez had probably figured it out.

“This is going in the club coffers,” Dust said slowly, the anger in his eyes receding. “You've earned yourself another chance – one week. That's all I'm giving you. I swear on my father's patch, Skin, if you fuck us over, and don't get us the rest of what we're owed from this gal, I'll send the guys to pick her up and drag her ass back here, kicking and screaming.”

He stared right through me to the wall, where we had old photos and trophies framed for the club. His old man's cut hung there, patch facing out, one more relic among many in all the glories the Deadly Pistols had lived and lost.

“We've got about enough here to start another girlie bar, this time in Knoxville city limits. I'm going with the business plan I should've let you talk me into the first time. Whatever else happens, we'll do this shit right. This is our second chance. I'm not pissing it away.” The Prez stepped up, looking me dead in the eye. “If you fuck us over, Skin, if your
toy
fucks us over, I swear to Christ I'll make her work off every single red cent she owes. Don't think I haven't noticed what you're fucking. She's got the tits and ass to be a slut. She'll be the first chick we put to work shaking what she's made of, seven days a week, even if we have to put a kinky mask over her face to keep any nosy assholes from noticing who she is. If she doesn't pay up, mark my words, she's
ours.
Club property.”

Asshole.
I didn't say it to his face, despite the anger howling through me. I was too busy thinking about how bad I wanted to make her my property. Mine, mine, and mine alone.

Joker's knife pulled away from my neck. I instinctively reached up and rubbed the impression he'd left, smearing a tiny blotch of rusty blood between my fingers.

“One week, Skin. That's all you get.” The Veep's dead eyes were more lively than usual. Creepy as a hungry fucking snake. “I'm game for bringing her back here and putting her to work myself. Nobody fucks this club. Not even the men who've given it their blood.”

Firefly still looked like a bull ready to charge, but his rage was deflating too. With a heavy sigh, he turned his back and walked to his spot, ripping his chair out to sit.

“Prez, with your approval, let's sit down and call a vote like gentlemen. I'll let this fucking guy live another week and set his girl free. He's bound by the club rules – they both are. Skin here's done some stupid shit, but he ain't a rat.” He looked over the ranks of brothers, ending with me. “Trust is all we've got when we're outnumbered three to one by the Deads. He's right about one thing – they're coming. And they damned sure will rip our heads off in a heartbeat if we're fighting each other.”

The Prez nodded. Everybody followed his lead as we headed for our seats.

The vote went fast, the yeas rolling in one by one, unanimous.

When it was my turn, I only had Meg on my mind, hoping to high hell I wasn't making the biggest mistake of my life.

* * * *

“S
tart packing,” I growled, kicking the door shut behind me.

Meg flashed me a smile. I'd caught her walking outta the shower, a towel wrapped tight around her, tempting me to tear it off.

She shifted her weight, forcing me to see the contour of her hips. “You mean you're taking me out to dinner tonight? What, are we dating now, or something?”

The girl winked, and my blood turned into fire.