Never Kiss an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (59 page)

There wasn't time to worry about that shit now. We had to keep going, odds be fucked, no matter the cost.

I ran, carrying her, zoning out as the fire lapped hotter in my muscles, burning me straight down. I'd crawl through hell itself for this woman, anything to keep her safe.

We'd done all we could, and I staggered up to the old stone wall, listening to their angry boots stampeding toward us.

“Over the wall, baby. Just roll, get up, and go. Run!” I told her, dropping her over the wall in front of me, before staggering over it myself.

My heart got a jolt when I hit the ground and looked up. Tinman and Lion were roaring into the parking lot, right behind all the other brothers, who'd just switched off their bikes.

“Skin? What the fuck?” Dust instantly drew his gun, pointed it behind me, sensing hell coming before I grabbed my piece and pushed Meg flat on the ground.

“The woods – they're coming!” All I had time to scream.

I started firing with the rest of the guys, who hit the dirt behind their bikes, dropping the first sick fucks running into the clearing. I saw two Deads filled with holes, but the guys behind 'em fired back, alerted to our ambush.

Meg whimpered underneath me. I kept her down, anything to protect her as I peaked over the wall and fired, ducking every time the Deads shot back.

The firefight lasted a cool minute before Sixty charged and rolled next to me at the wall. His magnum blasted right through a skinny tree, hit one of the fucks hiding in the brush.

My ears rang with his satisfying scream. The other two retreated, falling back into the forest, probably on Big Vic's orders. I could hear the asshole screaming behind 'em.

They were fucked. Our prospects circled their bikes, cutting off their only escape.

Soon as the return fire stopped, Dust waved us toward the forest, the only signal we needed to go after 'em.

Fucking finally.
I'd never been so goddamned happy to see the tables turned.

Meg clasped my arm, trying to stop me from going in. I tore myself away from her with a grunt, shaking my head.

“I've got to do this, babe. It'll be over fast. I promise.”

I'd make it up to her later. I sure as shit wasn't gonna let the Prez and the rest of my brothers take down Big Vic and the rest of his guys.

That sonofabitch had to die by my hand, just like I swore.

I always kept my word, ever since I'd put on this patch.
Always.

We chased the fuckers deep, crawling over tangled brush. Caught the greasy haired shit, Snappy, first, found him hiding behind a stump. He got off a few more shots, but the asshole was blinded with pain.

Joker got him from behind, close combat, stabbing a knife through his throat while the little hyena was too busy trying to shoot us. He died with his other hand still pressed to the nasty wound on his thigh, a jagged wound too messy to be one of ours.

I nodded to myself, satisfied that Meg had fucked a few of them up by making that dumb bastard blow his shotgun. He'd caught a piece of his own shrapnel, and now the devil had his soul. We pressed on.

The raging pain in my head stopped. I hit a second wind, running ahead of my boys, Sixty and Crawl at my side.

We found their guns before we found them. The last two Deads dropped everything, trying to run in a headlong panic. Crawl stopped for a second, picked up their shitty camera, and I took the machete laying next to it.

They'd followed a stream, probably hoping it'd lead them somewhere to hide, when we dropped 'em. Me and my best two brothers shot Big Vic and his boy in their calves from behind. They went down screaming like rats.

The Prez and the rest of the guys had just enough time to catch up as we approached.

“Goddamn, we got ourselves an officer.” He pointed his gun at Big Vic's name patch, ready to dispatch him at any time.

I grabbed his arm and shoved his gun down with a growl. The Deadhands' Veep blubbered like a baby, begging for his miserable life. I'd seen his type before – big, ugly bullies who always shit their pants when they were fresh outta bullets and guts.

The Prez walked up and kicked him in the ribs before he turned around and looked at me.

“He's mine, Prez. Let me do him. He tried to kill me and fuck my old lady. Asshole was planning to film it all for ransom from her folks.”

“No arguments,” Dust said coldly. “What about this other piece of shit?”

He gestured to the pot bellied biker with the pockmarked face. I shook my head. I didn't have a personal beef with this asshole like I did their VP. He was just another faceless soldier in the wrong place, wrong time, wrong club.

“Joker?” Dust smiled as he looked at our crazy ass Veep.

The boy was finally wearing a ghost of a smile as he pulled his knife out. Sixty and Crawl grinned, holding the bastard down. Joker sliced his shirt open and started carving the ink off his chest, stuffing the scrap of dirty fabric in the asshole's mouth to drown out his screams.

Ironic how he ended up suffering longer for Big Vic's sins. I wasn't interested in tolerating that bad motherfucker tainting more air on this planet for a second longer.

He tried to crab crawl away from me with his shot up leg when he saw me coming, machete in hand. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.”

Normally, I gave assholes a chance to say some final words.

Not today.

I stepped ahead of him to the creek's river bed and took off his arm with one quick, clean cut. Then the other. The bastard howled so loud he would've gotten our asses in trouble, assuming there was anybody to hear.

Lucky for us, that wasn't a concern when I swung the blade again. His ugly fucking head came off and rolled like a rotten pumpkin, right to the edge of the stream, stopping against a jagged rock with his eyes frozen open in shock.

I looked at his sick face one more time. Asshole's mouth hung open like he died surprised, and I grunted. Sweet, sweet satisfaction.

He'd need a lot more than fresh mountain water to purify his black soul down in hell for what he'd done to my woman.

* * * *

T
wo hours later, I was back at the clubhouse, Meg at my side while Dust's ma, Laynie, checked me over.

She had her work cut out for her today as a former nurse. First, Firefly, and now me.

“You should really go down to the hospital and get a brain scan, son.” She shined the bright light into my eyes one more time, turning everything brilliant white. “I'm not seeing any obvious signs of damage, but you took a terrible blow to the head. I don't have the right equipment to rule out the worst.”

“I'll be fine,” I grunted, feeling a tiredness coming over me, nothing but the burning drive to curl up with my old lady and go the fuck to sleep.

“Skin, I want one of your friends to take us on a drive. I'm going to get you some help.” Meg stood up, pulling the rag she'd used to help clean the blood off my face out of its water, and wiped a spot she'd missed.

Fuck, that shit stung when she grazed my cuts. But it wasn't half as bad as having to get used to these people buzzing around, all concerned about me passing out.

We'd cleaned up the dead weight in the woods and taken off earlier that night. The prospects and Joker split to head deeper into the mountains, taking the motherfuckers we'd finished out to our usual burial sites.

“Forget about it, babe. I just need to sleep this shit off, I'll be fine by morning.”

Yeah, right.
The way the roar in my temples deepened every time I tried to talk told me I was kidding myself and everybody else here with me.

“Bullshit, Skin.” The Prez barked, leaning against the frame in the open doorway. “You need to listen to my ma, and your old lady. I won't have this club's brains getting scrambled for good. I've heard enough. I'm getting Crawl and Sixty together and having them take ya'll in to medical.”

Fuck.
So much for getting a luxury condo, as soon as I saw the medical bill I'd wrack up after they did half a million scans on my skull.

“I can't afford that shit, and neither can the club treasury. We're just barely getting back on our feet. I'm not gonna burden the brothers, taking away from this club and the profit share for the guys when we've all risked our asses.”

“You risked yours the most, Skin. It's my choice – or did you forget what this patch means?” Dust stepped forward, sharing a quick glance with his ma, and tapped the PRESIDENT patch on his cut.

“Yeah, I remember. Your way, Prez. No backtalk.”

“Guys, let me do this,” Meg said, speaking up. “I have an idea.”

“Start talking, baby doll,” Dust growled. “I'm not letting this boy close his eyes for a goddamned cat nap 'til he's had his head looked at good and proper.”

Meg sat down with a nervous smile, and began to explain. By the end of it, I wasn't sure whose eyes were bugging out harder – mine or the Prez's. That was when I knew beyond any doubt I'd hitched up with the craftiest girl this side of the mountains, and maybe the craziest too.

* * * *

“T
his is it?” Sixty pulled a smoke from his mouth and flicked it out the truck's window.

“Yup. I'll walk him over and buzz the gate. Just wait for us out here.” Meg tugged on my arm. “Come on, old man. It won't be as bad as you think.”

My brothers nodded. They watched me stagger out of the passenger seat with my girl on my arm. The fucks probably thought I was heading for death row.

Her daddy didn't say much when she buzzed the gate. The big, iron bars I'd only seen from the outside slid open. It was a long walk to the double-wide front door between the roman columns, a country mansion like something outta Civil War times.

A tall, wiry man with spectacles came out to meet us, looking like a damned owl. He took one look at me and twisted his face.

“Honey, what the hell is this? Some kind of joke? My God, you brought
him
here.”

“Of course I did, Daddy. Are you telling me the man who saved my life isn't welcome in our home?”

Pain roared in my temples. Didn't distract me from fixing eyes on her father, watching the hard, venomous look he gave me soften the longer his daughter looked at him.

Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. “No. We're civilized here. Assuming you have no weapons...Mister Skin, you're welcome to come inside for some water.”

I narrowed my eyes, staring at him, and decided to do the only thing that made any damned sense. “I'd like that. It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mister Wilder. Call me Parker.”

* * * *

“W
hat's going on here, Eric? Who is this man, and what's he doing in our house so late?” An elegant looking older lady in a thick burgundy robe sashayed into the kitchen, heading right for us.

We'd barely even sat down and gotten started. Meg squeezed my hand and smiled. I clenched my jaw, holding in a big fat
whatever
.

If she wanted to introduce me to her old man, then she'd might as well do the entire family.

“This is Megan's friend, Parker. She's come back to us.”

“Oh, baby, I'm so glad you're finally going to get the help you need.” Meg's ma slipped past me, hung over her, and kissed her on the forehead.

Finally, she looked up, staring into my eyes. The chick must've been in her fifties, but she'd aged well. I could see the resemblance in her chestnut hair and high cheeks. She must've been a total fucking knockout in her heyday, a perfect trophy for a rich businessman.

“Parker, huh?” she sniffed. “And how do you know my Megan?”

“He's the man I'm moving in with, Mom. I love him.”

The old lady's jaw dropped. I would've laughed if it wasn't for the bison stampede in my head, the aftershock of that motherfucker slamming his rock into my skull hours ago.

“You. Can't. Be. Serious.” Her mother pulled away from her, folding her arms.

“I am. Like I tried to tell Daddy over the phone, this man is the missing piece of the last six months of my life. He's the only reason I'm home, and not chained up in some dark, musty basement, being forced to service a man who wanted to buy me from my pimp.”

The color drained outta her ma's face. Hubby stood up and took her hand, pulling her onto his lap so she wouldn't fall.

“Megan, please, we don't need to talk about all that. We've rehashed it enough with the police.” Her father looked up angrily. “The detective, mind you, who I lied to repeatedly for you. Apparently, that wasn't good enough. You've still decided to throw your own family under the bus to protect this – this biker.”

Fuck this shit. I stood up, feeling hot blood rushing to my face, listening to the heavy chair squeak across their perfectly polished tile.

“We done here yet?” I growled.

Meg looked at me, her eyes big and pleading. Then she turned her gaze on her parents, and it was a lot more ruthless.

“You really don't get it, do you? I'd be dead, if not worse, right now, if it wasn't for Skin. Parker. Go ahead, call him whatever you want. Treat him like trash.” She reached out, took my hand, and jerked it against her cheek, brushing against me like a kitten. “It doesn't change the fact that he saved my life, or that we're in love. And nothing's ever going to change it.”

Damn if her touch didn't smolder the fuse inside me. It always did. This woman's skin was magic against mine, and I could almost forgive the haughty fucks who'd raised her.

“But it doesn't change the fact that you'd be making my funeral arrangements right now if he hadn't gotten me away from that whorehouse. If you want, I'll leave this house with him, and you'll never see me again. Keep the rest of my trust, I don't care. There's just one more favor I'm after – we're here tonight because he's taken a terrible blow to the head. You're both decent people, even if you don't like my man. I have to believe you'll give me my own money one more time to help the man who's kept me breathing.”

“We'll have to discuss this privately,” her dad snapped. “Here, sit tight, let me get you some water, dear.”

Just as he sat her mother down in the chair and got up, she grabbed his hand, as if she'd been struck by lightning. “Don't. Eric, she's right. I believe her. Whatever she said before, I know our baby's only with us now because of this man. We can't just kick him out and leave him to suffer.”