Owned by the Outlaw (15 page)

“You still think I’m doing this because I want
Molly?” Malice handed his cut over to one of The Brothers. Malice rolled his
head around his neck and grinned. “I’m not going against you to get to her. But
she’s the mother of my kid, and I’ll always care about her and look after her.”

“And what?
You think fighting me is going to make you look like a man that can accomplish
that?” Stinger had already handed his cut over to Dallas and removed his shirt.
No sense in getting Malice’s blood on it. That had him grinning and had a surge
of adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Malice shook his head slowly and cracked his
knuckles again.
“At first maybe.
But
also because I was going to make it known that I am going to be the only father
to my son.”

That had Stinger stilling. “What?” He stared at
Malice, and then looked at Dallas before looking back at Molly’s ex. “You think
I want to be a father to your son?” Even in the dark Stinger could see the red
hue that took over Malice’s face and scented the rage that came from him like a
sledgehammer barreling through the air. “I’m not trying to be anyone’s father.
Dakota has a dad … you. Molly is mine. I’ve claimed her, and everything she
cares about is under my protection. I’d treat Dakota like he was my own flesh
and blood, but he isn’t mine like that, and no way in hell would I step on
another man’s toes concerning his kid.”

Malice stood flexing his muscles at that, and the
two of them stared at each other for several seconds. Did he still want to
fight the biker? Fuck yeah, because Malice had started this shit back in the
motel room. There was too much dangerous energy moving through both of them,
and a good fight would relieve it.

“Listen, man, I have no reason to lie to you, or to
try and take something like your kid.
Me
claiming
Molly has nothing to do with being a father to your kid. Will I protect him
like he was my own? Yeah, with my last fucking breath, but he’s
yours
.”

Malice looked down, saw him knit his brows, and watched
as he clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides. “I’m still going to kick
your fucking ass.” Malice said the words low, steady, but there wasn’t as much
animosity in his voice as there had been.

“Bring it on, man.” But even though Stinger’s human
side had calmed over the fact Malice had been acting like an enraged father,
protecting what he thought would be taken away in a sense, his bear was still
thirsty for blood. Stinger stood right where he was, didn’t move a muscle, and
watched in anticipation as Malice’s muscles contracted a millisecond before he
charged forward. This was about two guys having built up rage over the last
week, and needing to relieve it in a primal, bare-knuckle fight that would
cause a shitload of pain.

Malice charged forward, and Stinger let his grin of
excitement cover his face. The biker slammed into him. He might be human, but
he was a big fucker, tall and just as muscular as Stinger. The punches started
getting thrown left and right, and Stinger caught one to his left kidney. He
grunted and counteracted with a right hook to Malice’s cheek. The scent of
blood instantly filled the air, and his animal growled out in joy. He slammed
his fist into Malice’s gut, and the other man stumbled back. He turned his head
and spit out a mouthful of the metallic flavored stuff, and looked at Stinger
and grinned. His teeth looked dark from the blood that covered them. But he
didn’t say anything, just charged forward again.

Left hook.
Right undercut.
Punch to the right kidney.
Head-butt.

They attacked each other like they were machines,
and Stinger fucking loved it. He tasted his own blood fill his mouth, felt it
slide down the back of his throat, and felt the soreness of the pain settle
into his muscles and bones. He’d be bruised up no doubt, but he loved it. The
pain was a reminder of life, helped relieve his angry beast, and eased his
emotions. Twenty minutes passed with them going at it. The guys stood around
watching, no one saying anything, but their energy ramped up from the fight. Malice
stumbled
backward, blood spilling from his nose and
mouth, but there was clear sadistic gleam coming from the man.

“You’re one tough asshole.” Malice spit out another
mouthful of blood.

Stinger sucked in a lungful of air and wiped his
mouth with the back of his hand. Looking down at it he saw the blood that
covered his skin. His chest was covered in it as well, but it was a mixture of
both of their blood. “You’ve got one badass right hook.”

Malice started chuckling, and Stinger glanced up at
him. “My old man taught me a lot of things, but defending
myself
against him was the one I could count on daily.” They stared at each other for
several seconds, and then Malice exhaled. “Look, I’ve done a lot of thinking,
most of it after we knocked heads earlier in the day, but it was a realization
that had been long in coming.” He turned his head and spit again before
continuing. “I know you care for Molly. I can see it in the way you want to
defend her. And that’s really fucking good, because Molly’s is a wonderful
woman, and she deserves a man that will treat her like the treasure she is.”

Not like how
you treated her.

Malice held Stinger’s gaze. “I didn’t deserve her,
and she wised up to the fact she was better than me and deserved a guy that
would give her the time she deserved.”

Stinger nodded.

“So, with that being said, I’m stepping out. It's
clear you’re not even winded.” He lifted the bottom of his shirt and wiped the
sweat and blood from his face. “I want to make one thing clear, though.” There
was a low, menacing quality to Malice’s voice. “You treat her right, and you
treat my son right when you are in his presence, because if I find out you hurt
either of them there isn’t a place on this planet that you can hide from me.”

There was a long, tense moment of silence. “Fair
enough,
and I wouldn’t expect any less.” Stinger turned and
grabbed his shirt from Dallas and wiped off his face and chest.

Malice’s threat was very real, and he didn’t need to
scent the genuine rage in Malice’s words to know this man would deliver on
that, even if Stinger was a shifter and could tear his head clean off. When it
was a man determined to keep the ones he cared about safe, even a human could find
the supernatural strength to take down their enemy. Stinger took a step forward
and leveled a hard look on his face. “If anyone hurts Molly or Dakota
I’ll
slit their throat and bathe in
their blood.” No quick death for anyone that hurt what he cared about either.

Malice kept his stoic expression, and then nodded
once. The air around them eased somewhat. “Good. Glad to know we are on the
same page.” With another hard glare Malice and the other two Brothers of Menace
turned and left.

Court whistled behind him, and he turned and
narrowed his eyes at the bear. “Just shut the fuck up.” Stinger didn’t need
either of them telling him that Malice was a force to be reckoned with, and
that he was going to have his hands full dealing with that alpha asshole.

Dallas and Court held their hands up in the air at
the same time as if they were surrendering.

“Come on, I need to get cleaned up because I have
some place to be.” And that some place was with Molly. He needed her now more
than ever, and needed to confirm with her once more that she was his, and that
he’d go to any lengths to make that known. Hell, he knew once he told her he
had gotten into it with Malice again she’d be pissed. But no secrets, no hiding
shit—club business aside—because she was his woman now, his female and old
lady, and he was going to claim every part of her tonight.

****

Malice went faster down the winding road, feeling
the wind whipping against his face, and took the corners sharply. He had
adrenaline pumping through his veins from the fight, and the realization that
the life he had been hanging onto—for whatever reason—had long since gone. This
wasn’t about Dakota any longer, and he was trying to hang onto a woman that
wanted to move on with her life. That was what Malice needed to do, too.

The Brothers of Menace clubhouse came into view, and
he pulled his Harley to a stop in front of the gates that blocked the entrance.
He waited until the prospects ran up to the gates and opened them for him, and
then he drove the bike up the incline of the driveway and pulled to a stop
beside the other bikes. After cutting the engine and climbing off, he took his
helmet off and hung it from his handlebar. The garage bay doors were
open,
and music blasted from the inside of it. Their
clubhouse was situated on several acres, and the center of town was miles away,
so any noise complaint wouldn’t be because Aerosmith was too loud. He saw a few
Nomads helping some of the guys work on a bike, but most of them were standing
around drinking beers and bullshitting. Malice turned away and walked toward
the front of the club. Once he pulled the door open and stepped inside the
sounds of laughter and more music blasting filled the room. Several of the guys
were playing poker off to the side, but Malice was going to pick up Dakota for
the night in about an hour, and he needed to get cleaned up. He couldn’t help
the fact he had forming bruises and some minor cuts marring his face, but he
could clean off the sweat and blood.

He went over to the bar and leaned on the smooth,
but scarred counter.

“You want a shot, or maybe a beer?” Cookie asked.
She was one of the girls they had rescued from Denver, but she also didn’t want
to hang around the cabin they had temporarily put the women up in. She might
have told Lucien her reasoning behind it, but Malice didn’t know, and didn’t
care to delve into her business.

“Just a bottle of water, please.”

She nodded and turned to get it. Unlike the other
club pussy that hung around the club, and even the other prostitutes, Cookie
actually dressed modestly. She wore a plain t-shirt and a pair of loose jeans.
She didn’t show off her body like the other women did, and he was surprised
about that because she had been involved with the prostitutes they had taken
out of Denver. Her long blonde hair was in a low ponytail, and when she turned
back around to face him he saw the fading bruises on her lower eyes. He also
noticed that she kept her head turned slightly to the side, as if she didn’t
want to have anyone staring. Now he felt like an asshole because he was
staring, and she probably felt uncomfortable.

“Thanks,” he murmured and turned his back to her and
faced the
guys
playing cards.

“Call it, motherfucker,” Rock said with a grin on
his face.

Malice chuckled when he saw Rock’s face grow red
when Lucien tossed down his royal flush.

“Bullshit. You got cards up your ass or something.”

Lucien flipped him off, but was grinning.

Rock was cursing under his breath as he made his way
toward Malice. “Cookie, get me a double of scotch.” Rock turned and glared at Malice.
“Can you believe that shit…”Rock stood straighter and whistled under his
breath.
“
Damn, you fight at the barn tonight?”

“Something
like
that.”
Malice didn’t want to get into it right now, especially when Rock was already
drunk, and would probably bust his balls for fighting a shifter. They could
handle themselves, but any human going up against a Grizzly was just asking for
trouble. At the time Malice hadn’t given two
shits
,
and honestly if he was ever confronted by one of them—not concerning Molly
because he was putting that to rest—he still wouldn’t back down.

Rock held up his hands, but he lost interest quickly
enough when Cookie set his shot down. “Thanks,
hun
.”
Rock tossed it back and hissed out as the alcohol clearly burned going down.

Malice could have laughed from Rock’s expression
alone.

“You want to come play a hand?” He wiped his hand
over the back of his mouth and turned so that he was facing Malice.

“Nah, picking up Dakota and
spending some time with him.”

Rock slapped him on the back. “Good deal, man. Tell
the little guy I said hi.”

Malice nodded and drank more of his water. He handed
the empty bottle to Cookie and smiled. Yeah, a hot shower would get him clean,
but also relax him. He needed that to wash the last few hours away. Before he
could move,
Teenie
, one of the club pussy that was
especially generous in giving out the “affection”, sidled up to him and rubbed
her shoulder along his.

“Hey, baby, you looking for a little company
tonight?”

Malice glanced over at her. The overhead lighting
showed the make-up she wore caked on her face. Her eyelashes were long and
fake, and her lips were painted this obscene and annoying fuchsia color, and
when she smiled the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap perfume filled his
nose. “Not interested,
Teenie
.” He stood and turned,
but when she grabbed the back of his cut he couldn’t help but let out a deep
sound of warning. He glanced over his shoulder, saw that
Teenie
knew that she shouldn’t have grabbed his cut, and then he exhaled. He was on
edge as it was, and although
Teenie
had known better
than to grab at him, he probably wouldn’t have been this annoyed on a different
day. Without saying anything he headed toward the back of the club, needing to
get away from everyone and everything. Maybe later would look better, or at
least he wouldn’t feel like knocking someone’s head off at the slightest
provocation.