Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (12 page)

“Really, Summer-Bummer? You think you can lecture me? Me? The man who's fuckin' mowed down bitches and brats several times over?”

“Why?” I whispered, begging for an answer, truly wondering through all the terror smothering my heart.

“Because I'm God, bitch. G-O-fuckin'-D. I decide who lives, who dies, and who sucks my damned cock. It's just me and Betty G, together, and we are both hungry motherfuckers. Right now, the ones who die are the motherfuckers who ain't paying their dues to the only club that belongs in Dixie. The Pistols are fucked because they're bad for business. That's it. So are you.”

I couldn't tell if he was genuinely insane or just eaten up with greed like a bad cancer. Honestly, that made him even more terrifying.

“Whatever. I can see what god you really worship,” I said.

“Fucking shit, didn't call you up for a talk about theology. Here, why don't you do me a favor and get off the pot. Go by the TV and take a good, long look at little Alex.”

What the hell was he talking about? How did he know I was in the bathroom?

Jesus, he wasn't here, was he?

In less than a dozen words, he destroyed what little desperate courage I'd pulled from my depths. I stood numbly, leaving the bathroom, the phone blazing against my blood filled ear like a glowing coal.

“Little closer. Easy, now. Ain't gonna pop any heads unless you give me a fuckin' reason to,” he growled, urging me forward.

Alex was still holding his toy planes, taking a break from his vigorous play. He looked up at me and smiled. Such a beautiful, innocent grin.

One I would've normally beamed back – if only there weren't a killer whispering in my ear.

“You see it yet?”

I didn't until it moved. Then the red dot, like something from a laser pointer, except dime sized, crawled across the toy jumbo jet on the ground next to Alex's little thigh. It crept across the floor slowly, about as slow as my eyes bugged out of my head, stopping just short of landing on my son.

“What you're looking at, bitch, because I know you're too fuckin' dumb to know, is the laser attached to the gun that puts your kid in pieces right in front of you.”

“No...” I barely made a sound, shaking my head, not sure whether I should throw myself over it or try to grab Alex and run.

“I know you're getting restless. I know you're thinking about taking off on me, running before you've done the job we sent you up there to do. I know your panties are filling up with shit right now, wondering what the fuck I'm gonna do.” He paused. “Believe it or not, I don't wanna fuckin' kill you, or the brat. I want you to shut up, get with Joker, and do whatever the fuck it takes to stop me from telling my man to pull the trigger. Sooner you figure out you don't have a choice, we're all better off.”

The bastard was right. I really didn't.

He was one, two, maybe five steps ahead of me.

Always, god damn it. Always.

There wasn't any running while he had this man following us, ready to shoot whenever Hatch told him to.

“Okay,” I said, feeling myself floating above my body the instant I said it. I'd come uncoupled, the only thing I could do to survive the horror. “I'll try again.”

“Yeah, you will. You'll try harder. Because if you don't...” He stopped, inhaling a deep breath. “Bam!”

I winced. The red dot on the floor flashed one more time, and then disappeared.

“You've got two more days, Summer-Bummer. Corner him, fuck him, show up at his doorstep asking to borrow a cup of sugar. Whatever the fuck you have to do to get good with him, you fuckin' do it. Nothing less. You get close enough to count how many fuckin' hairs he's got on his balls. Close enough to ask him anything, and jump when we say go.”

The line went dead. So did my soul.

“Mama?” Alex looked at me, a tiny frown on his face. He couldn't understand any of this, and thank god for that.

I walked over, scooped him up, and held him tighter than I had since before all this began. We sat on the bed while he lazily played with my hair.

Tomorrow, another level of hell waited. Tomorrow, I had to do anything and everything I could think of to save his life.

Mine didn't matter anymore.

The biggest mistake of my life wasn't the demon who kept calling and threatening me. I'd already made it six years ago, when I'd let myself fall for the rough, dirty boy who'd given me a ride home.

It wasn't Hatch's fault. It wasn't mine.

Goddamn it, this was Joker's fault. If he hadn't gotten so close, given me this kid I loved, driving me to my wit's end...

Closing my eyes, I sat there holding my baby boy, just reflecting. No, maybe I'd been too harsh. Too crazed.

Whatever mistakes I'd made, Alex hadn't been one of them. He was the only good thing that ever happened to me.

I had to keep him alive and smiling. Fucking
had
to.

He gripped my hand, his eyelids drooping in that sleepy, lovable way they always did when he got tired. I rocked him gently, hoping he'd go to sleep.

Hoped even more I'd force a miracle. There had to be some combination of words and actions on this earth I could use to get close to Joker.

Didn't stop my poor, savaged brain from drawing a complete blank. I was still struggling to fight through it, kicking myself, drowning in my frustration when I heard the motorcycle growl in the parking lot outside.

Alex woke up, jerked in my arms, and a man screamed outside. I held my baby tighter, standing up, trying to see what was happening out there.

Then all hell broke off its chain and came flying through the window.

I
fuckin' lied
to her face, lied to myself, and even lied in front of my dog.

When I put my lips on Summer's, I'd been more at peace than when I cracked a hundred skulls. She brought me back to the time before Freddy died, before things went to shit.

The past was supposed to be dead. Gone. Standing next to her, it sure as hell wasn't.

That freaked me the fuck out.

I had to keep her away. Had to tell her I was as dead as I pretended, before she got her hooks into me. Had to avenge my brother, the only fuckin' thing that mattered, and I couldn't handle any goddamned distractions right now.

Soon as I pulled outta the parking lot, I headed for the Ruby Heel. Twenty minutes later, I had a mug of beer in my hand and I sat under Honey-Bee, watching her snow queen act.

She swung across the stage on a high swing, wearing those heels I wanted stabbing my ass, blowing handfuls of fake snow across the tiny crowd. From the corner of my eye, I saw two old ladies staring at me with sour puss frowns on their faces.

Meg, Skin's old lady.

Cora, Firefly's wife, her belly swelling by the day with the kid they were having.

Fuck them both. They didn't own me. If I wanted to bang Honey-Bee backstage tonight, they weren't fuckin' stopping me.

Only trouble was, I couldn't get hard. Not even when Honey-Bee came down to the floor, floating on her strings, giving every man here a perfect view of an ass so round I wanted to sink my teeth in.

That's what I would've wanted any other night, anyway. Tonight?

Fuck, it was different, and I didn't know why. Even flashing her long lashes at me and blowing a kiss didn't do shit for my cock.

What the fuck was wrong with me? Bingo sat by my side, his tongue hanging out. Damned dog looked more interested in the stripper than I did.

I took a long pull from my beer, grabbed a bone in my pocket, and put it into his mouth.

“Helluva mutt you got there,” an old man in a leather jacket with a Harley emblem said.

I looked at him and snorted. If these fucking casual riders weren't filling up the Pistols' coffers with the money they spent here, I'd have stood up and walked the other way.

“He's no mutt, asshole,” I growled, hating how he looked at my next fuck with more intensity than I did. “Pure bred Irish Wolfhound.”

“Shit, man, what's eating you?”

I stood up. Soon as he saw the patches on my cut, his face lit up, and he quickly moved several chairs over.

Nobody was stupid enough to start shit with a full patch brother. These wannabe badasses always ran just as soon as they came face to face with real outlaws.

Didn't take any pleasure in scaring away the chickenshit. Like most nights, I just wanted to be left the fuck alone.

Honey-Bee still had her hungry little eyes on me as her act wound down. I wasn't looking at her anymore, dead to feeling it, thinking about Summer the whole damned time.

Fuck.

“Come on, boy. Let's get the fuck outta here.” I took the bone away from Bingo and hauled him up on his feet, walking him outta the bar.

Meg was standing by the door on my way out, a tall brunette who always dressed too fuckin' fancy for any brother. Fancy, yeah, except for the PROPERTY OF SKIN jacket she wore like a second skin.

“What's going on? Leaving already?” she asked, like she couldn't believe it.

“Yeah. Put the beer on my tab.”

“Smart choice, Joker. Honey-Bee doesn't need any trouble. She's been jerked around enough by you and Lion lately.”

Lion? The beat up, scruffy motherfucker we'd only patched in about a month ago?

Shouldn't have been surprised she was taking whatever cock she could get. The woman was voracious.

Shit.
Whatever urge I had left to fuck the stripper totally evaporated. If only she'd known he'd had his cock buried in more of the bitches here than I did.

“She's a big girl,” I said, pushing past her on my way out. “Don't think she needs her boss playing big sis, telling what she should and shouldn't do.”

Meg called after me, but I wasn't stopping.

I'd lost sight of the real mission for too long. Kissing Summer and sending her packing only reminded me of that, and I'd be damned before I let it fuck me over any longer.

* * *

“
J
oker
, for fuck's sake!” Dust grabbed his pipe, blowing smoke in my face. “Knock it off. You're gonna fuck up the new silestone if you keep that shit up.”

Looking up at the Prez, I finally stopped slamming the blade between my fingers, faster and harder than I usually did. I sat at the bar with the brothers in our clubhouse, a little while after I'd gotten back and put Bingo down for a nap.

“Cut him some slack, Prez,” Firefly said, knocking back a whiskey shot. “It's too fuckin' dark for him to hit the range. He's gotta blow off steam somehow.”

We locked eyes. I had a weird understanding lately with the big vet who served as our Enforcer.

Wasn't so long ago I'd tried to tell him he was making a big fat mistake getting in so deep with that Cora girl. Fuckin' ship had sailed on that months ago, with him marrying her and knocking her up, the whole club taking out the Torches MC in the process.

Too damned bad the Torches were just one more distraction.

Our old friends fucked us over, coming after his girl for some shit debt her dead daddy ran up. They'd been the only thing keeping Atlanta outta the Deads' grip, and now the fuckers owned it about as hard as they had Seddon locked down.

“No honor in staying sober night, Veep,” Skin said, sitting on my other side. He passed me the bottle of Jack he'd been swigging. “Go ahead. This shit'll wash away the stick up your ass.”

I held the bottle, staring at the amber liquid, already feeling the sweet numbing fire before I raised it to my lips.

“No.” I pushed it back into the brother's hands, shaking my head. “Ain't the right time for Jack.”

“Aw, shit, Veep. What's the matter? Don't tell me you gotta be fuckin' sober to walk the dog!” Sixty's goatee twitched as he looked at me with a shit-eating grin, one man over from Skin. He slapped Crawl on the back like he'd just cut the best joke in the world.

I gave him that look.
Shut the fuck up, Mister Comedian.

Took my sweet time folding up my knife. It never took more than a crazy look to shut these boys up when they threw their shit, and Sixty was back to nervously talking to the brothers, soon as I stood up.

I headed for my room, too fucked in the head to stir the pot tonight, much as I wanted answers from Dust about facing down the Deads. Fuck, I needed those answers soon, before I decided to suck face again with an old flame I needed to smother.

I only got to the hall before I smelled the Prez's tobacco trailing after me. “Hold it, boy. Where the fuck you think you're going? We barely get the whole crew together anymore with half of 'em running their asses off, and the other half fuckin' around with their girls.”

He grabbed me by the shoulder and swung me around. I looked into his cold gray eyes, trying to hold in my rage. Trying, and fucking failing.

“I know that look,” Dust growled. “You've got some serious shit on your mind. More than just the usual venom gnawing at your bones. Let's talk.”

Reluctantly, I let the Prez push me a little further, guiding me toward his office.

A minute later, we sat down and shut the door. My back pressed tight into the beat up chair across from his desk.

“Better start talking, Veep. This club don't need any more shit running under the surface with the big op coming together.”

“That's what's pissing me off, Prez. All this talk about taking down the Deads, doing deals with the Grizzlies and the Devils, and you haven't said shit about your promise.”

“The fuck?” Dust straightened up, blew out his pipe, and slammed it down on his worn desk. “What do you think I'm pulling, brother? Taking the fuckers down in their home state does everyone a solid. Club gets its money and flexes its nuts. Wrecks its biggest threat. I get Hatch's fuckin' head on a pike, and you get the bastards who murdered Piece and put Don in a fuckin' nursing home. What's missing here? Nothing!”

His fist came down. I stood up, rage flashing in my eyes.

Crazy as I was, I wasn't about to accuse the Prez of dragging his feet, fucking me over because his eyes were purely on the cash 'til now.

Prez's rage caught me by the throat and squeezed. He wasn't wrong – wiping out the Georgia Deads technically fulfilled his promise. The op missed the spirit of what he'd sworn to me that night, when I came in, ready to ride off alone, straight to certain death.

“You promised me peace, Prez. That's the word you used that fucked up night. Peace.”

It still smelled like bullshit coming outta my mouth. Had I been a fuckin' chump? How the hell was I ever supposed to have peace, really?

Even tearing the throats outta those sick bastards wouldn't put Piece back together again.

He was gone. Lost to Heaven or Hell. Forever.

“Yeah, I promised, all right,” he said quietly, standing up. “You know I keep 'em, too.”

Prez stepped out from behind his desk, walked straight past me, and flopped down on the torn leather couch in the corner. Our gaze never wavered.

He was about ten years older than me and still a fuckin' mystery. He'd survived more death than any other brother, had his damned throat slashed just a couple months ago, and walked away from it alive.

And that was probably nothing when he'd been born in this club's blood.

The prince who was always meant to lead it when his old man's gavel fell. Nothing on the pirates he'd said he fought overseas, an ex-captain in the U.S. merchant fleet.

“Boy, you're looking at me like I fucked you over, but you know it ain't right. Every brother here respects you, Joker. Every brother loves you. You're walking around town every damned day with a chip on your shoulder the size of fuckin' Jupiter. You do that shit with the knife every damned day. And every fuckin' day I'm watching, waiting for you to slip, carve off a perfectly good finger.”

My jaw clenched. Dust's voice came steady, cool, and calm. He leaned forward, folding his hands.

“You need to pull your head outta your ass, VP. You wouldn't be wearing the patch if I didn't trust you to have some reason mixed with the psycho killer bullshit. You were smart enough to listen to me that night you showed up, asking for blood, telling me you'd go for it yourself. That would've been suicide – we both know it. You were patient. You were fuckin' smart. And now, it's almost time to get what I told you. Everything I promised.”

“I ain't getting shit, Prez. Let's face it. Even if we kill some fuckin' animals, yeah, I'll feel better for a few hours, maybe a week. But once the party's over and I finally sober up, cleaning their blood off my knife...Freddy's gone. Grandpa's fucked. My hometown's a goddamned shithole that won't ever welcome anybody with a patch again – not after the dirty shit the Deads have been pushing there. Putting the motherfuckers down won't un-fuck anything.”

“That's why you gotta reach inside and feel your own guts. Don't fuckin' wait for the final battle, Joker. Do it sooner. Now. 'Cause if you wait, we'll win like we always do, and you'll still walk away empty fucking handed.” He leaned forward a little more, his steely eyes boring into me. “Bullets and knives only kill the demons outside you, Joker. The shit underneath your skin – that's where you gotta use your brain, your heart. You're the only one who can.”

“Prez –“

“Shut up and listen for a second, brother. You think you're the only one who misses Piece?” He paused, just long enough for the anger to burn hot in my eyes, trying to ignite the gray ice in his. “Fuck, Joker, you miss him most. Fuck yeah, you do. But goddamn if the rest of us don't. You were both hell on wheels. Both of you made this club stronger. Shit, both of you were there when my old man bit it. Your votes gave me the gavel, helped keep this club in one piece when it'd been rocked to its fuckin' core.”

What the fuck was he saying? Trying to pretend he understood? Trying to tell me he could even fuckin' fathom one tenth of the deep, hellish loss ripping me to shreds every goddamned day I opened my eyes?

No, no,
hell no.

“He was my brother!” I roared, standing up, halfway to hallucinating Freddy sitting next to him, smiling on that damned beat up sofa. “By blood, by patch...maybe by fuckin' soul. They took him, Dust. Tore his fuckin' head off, ripped his eyes out. I walked in and saw my grandpa on the floor. His poor heart snapped like a twig when he saw those holes where Piece's eyes used to be. I gotta watch him flinch a little every fuckin' time I see him, and he looks me in the eye, knowing he's still seeing Freddy when he looks at me.”

Big goddamned mistake, spewing the poison like this.

It flashed before my eyes, a hundred times more intense than most days.

Even now, it was all a sadistic blur.

My hands on grandpa's chest, pumping furiously, fighting the molten tears in my eyes.