Never Love an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (14 page)

“Come on, babe. You already know the answer.” A smirk twisted his dangerously kissable lips. “Let me get you some breakfast. Then I'll let you shower and get to work on the ransom plan, while I handle business.”

He slid out of bed and began to dress, throwing on a clean shirt and his cut. I watched him the entire time, feeling my heart slip into my stomach, pulsing black, guilty blood.

“Don't do this. Please don't. I know I've given you a hard time because I'm all screwed up, but Skin, if I lost you –“

A wave of his hand cut me off. “Unless the next words out of your mouth have to do with how you're gonna convince your folks to get us the money, I don't wanna hear it. Mind's made up, babe, and nobody changes it once I've decided.”

“Skin!” I jumped up and called out to him one more time before he adjusted the leather vest on his shoulders, and then marched out, locking the door behind him in one brutal twist.

He was gone. And unfortunately, the beautiful bastard was right again.

I had to accept whatever he was up to, even though it meant suffering alone all day worrying about him.

By the time the sun set and I had to switch the lamp on, I couldn't take it. I'd done nothing since he dropped off coffee and a sandwich this morning, without so much as a goodbye.

The paper sat gloriously empty, except for several lines I'd scribbled about how to save him. How ironic that he'd gotten me to care more about pulling his stupid butt out of the fire than my own.

I couldn't shake the exhaustion. The last few days had absolutely fried my brain.

I'd been too open with Skin last night. I never should've let my guard down. Never should've tempted him to bring more trouble down by wiping out Ricky.

Once he had his target, he was like an angry pitbull. There wasn't any holding back. He'd left for his destiny, and there was nothing I could do.

Nothing besides cloister myself in the corner and wait, praying the pimp wouldn't get to him first.

Another hour slipped by. Then two more. Panic crept in.

What the hell is happening out there?
I wondered, biting my lip.

I wanted to do something. My hands and feet burned. They begged me to run to the door, pound on it and scream until somebody opened up, and tell them everything about what Skin was about to do.

But if his brothers weren't in on the scheme, then I'd only be giving him more grief, possibly putting him in greater danger.

I still didn't know anything about this MC. From what I could see, they barely tolerated me. The brothers gave Skin just enough space to watch over me as their personal cash cow.

Whatever, at least they hadn't demanded
other
favors. I shook my head sadly, wondering if I'd ever be able to think normally about any strange man again after what I'd been through.

Ricky fucked me up. Ricky, the Johns, and his nasty friends in the Deadhands, brutes who wouldn't think twice about using my mouth, or choking me until I complied with the next set of tricks they wanted me to turn.

I remembered Big Vic's vile cock in my mouth and cringed. He liked choking me, making me worry that he'd squeeze his fingers around my throat just a little bit tighter while he fucked me deep, filled my entire mouth with every evil inch of him.

He always laughed when I tore his floppy dick out of my mouth too, after he'd finished. I'd be on the ground, gasping for air, trying desperately not to panic. He'd roll off his condom slowly, making me worry he'd dump his waste all over me before he left.

You're a lucky bitch,
he always said.
Goddamned lucky we like working with this pimp. One of these days, we just might decide to haul you back to the Carolinas to work for us instead, baby girl. Then you can suck this shit down your throat 'til you fuckin' drown.

“No.” I covered my eyes, mumbling, pushing away the bitter memory.

They couldn't hurt me anymore, whatever happened to Skin. Oh, God, what if something really did happen to him out there!?

He was the only man who'd been remotely kind to me in ages. And I wasn't even sure that was accurate. My brain was too screwed up to think.

I wanted somebody to slap me across the face, shake me, sort the rights from the wrongs. My own judgment was shot, destroyed forever by the deranged madman who'd had me for six months, the bastard I still couldn't hide from in my dreams.

Clenching my fists, I tried to breathe deep, anything to slow my shaking heart. I was getting worked up to the verge of tears when I heard the lock jingle.

My heartbeat thudded ten times faster when Skin ripped the door open and slammed it shut behind him, another bag from the taco place in hand, and something else. His phone?

“Oh my God,” I whispered softly to him, standing up. “Are you okay? What happened?”

He didn't say anything at first. The biker with the savage scar on his beautiful face approached me like a lion, reserving his pride, stopping only to set the food on the table and lift up his phone.

“Skin? Skin?” I said his name a couple more times, studying him for telltale signs of blood, dirt, injuries – anything that might give me a clue what happened while he was out all day. “Talk to me!”

“Just shut your mouth and watch,” he growled, pushing the phone into my hands.

A video started to play. I saw Skin's unmistakably huge hand gripped around a handgun. A man was down on the ground in front of him, looking miserable and dejected. It only took me a second to recognize Ricky's long, greasy locks. The pimp crouched on his knees, shaking, dead silent except for some distant fluttering birds off in the forest surrounding them.

“Don't do this, don't do this, please don't fucking do this – for the love of God!” The pimp sounded terrified.

Adrenaline shot through my chest. I watched as Skin brought the hand with his gun violently across the back of his head, knocking him to the ground. The camera shook, lost its frame, and came back about ten seconds later.

“Stop begging and die like a man, asshole,” the biker snarled. “I'll bet she begged for mercy too. Of course she did, her and how many others? You reap what you sow, motherfucker, and now it's your turn to pay in blood, in pain, in your worthless life.”

The pimp's face was in front of the camera now. He had hot, angry tears in his eyes, bruises all over his face. I gasped, completely blown away by seeing my old tormentor so beaten.

“You're gonna regret this, Skin. The Deads know all about the guys you killed. They'll come looking for me too, and when they find out what you did, they'll fuck up every last cowardly little shit in your club. The Pistols won't even fucking exist in a month's time – just wait!” His lips trembled and he drew a long, agonizing breath. “Just wait, Skin. You know I'm talking sense. It's not too late to throttle back, save your own ass instead of putting it on the line for that mangy, stupid, miserable little cunt. Christ, I should've fucked her and buried her in the brush a long time ago.”

“Nah.” Skin's voice sounded cooler all of a sudden. My eyes burned as he shoved the barrel of his gun into the pimp's bloody mouth. “It was too fucking late for you the instant I saw her. She's got time on her side, time to sort her shit out and heal. I'd say it's too bad your clock's run out, pimp, but, you know – it isn't. Eat shit.”

I jumped when I heard the gunshot. Blood flew everywhere.

A few droplets spattered the camera, but most of it ran to the ground in the steady red trickle. What was left of the pimp's head slumped over the log where he'd been propped up and pinned down.

“Useless sack of shit,” Skin muttered, right before the camera went black.

The last thing I heard was the shuffling of his boots and a nearby shovel plunging into the cold Smoky Mountain dirt.

My hands were shaking when he reached from behind me, gingerly taking his phone back, taking away the video forever. He gave me a squeeze as I fought the tears, the insane flood of emotion over what I'd seen, and then he stepped out in front of me.

I watched the big man put the phone flat on the floor, lift one leg, and bring it down hard. It crunched like nothing more than decayed wood, but he stomped it a few more times just to be sure.

“Skin...” his name left my lips before I even knew what else to say.

His dark brown eyes bathed me in their energy, safe and determined as ever. “You only gotta see that once, babe, but I had to show you. I had to prove to you he's been dealt with, just like I promised.”

I could manage several steps to the bed before I collapsed, sitting with my hands across my face.

“I can't believe you did this,” I said finally, meeting his fiery eyes.

“Believe it, babe. The bastard's dead, buried where nobody'll ever find him. My only regret's not dragging it out and making the worthless piece of shit suffer more for what he did to you and those other girls.”

“The other girls – shit!” I sat up, suddenly in a panic, wondering what would become of them.

None of the other whores were slaves like me, at least not in the same way. The drugs the pimp offered up with their meager salaries were the only master they had to worry about. But addiction was a powerful one, and half of them would starve in their beds, waiting for Ricky to come back and get them their next hits.

“Already taken care of.” Skin folded his arms. “I went through the place and handed them their pink slips personally before I went to the pimp's house. His ratty little book keeper will find 'em, or else the girls will sober up in the morning. I gave all of 'em a shelter in Knoxville, not too far away, where they can go to get clean.”

No fucking way. Smiling, I shook my head, scared I'd break down and start crying all over again.

“What? Don't tell me you're having regrets.”

“No, Skin, you just really thought of everything. I'm impressed.” I leaned forward and grabbed his hand.

He didn't pull it away as I moved it to my face. I took my time just holding it there, savoring his warmth, his energy, the raw power in the fingers that had held the gun when he blew Ricky's evil brains out.

“Something like that,” he whispered, his face darkening. “He wasn't bullshitting me when he talked about the Deads before I ended him. But those fuckers were gonna come after us anyway. Killing the pimp won't change that, it'll just give them something else to dig into, maybe buy us a little more time.”

I looked at him for a second before I jerked my head away. It was too hard to hide the worry. I didn't want to get caught in the middle of a raging war between outlaw motorcycle clubs. But I couldn't ask him to put me ahead of himself, or ahead of this group he'd sworn an oath to.

My eyes ran across his patches, and the dark inks on his arms. Tiger stripes and swords mingled, skulls and tiny cards stamped in black. The canvass hiding the complicated man underneath was just as complex, a mesh of death and courage, blended together to the point where the two were nearly indistinguishable.

“Get some sleep and don't worry about any of this shit, Meg. I'll keep you safe, and so will the rest of the club. You're going home soon, babe.”

“I need to thank you,” I purred, my eyes inevitably dropping to the ridge where his legs met.

He tensed up when I put my hand on his fly. Skin's dark, handsome eyes followed me as I got in front of him and sunk down to my knees, ready to take another man's cock deep into my mouth.

Except this time it was a man I
wanted.
And I wanted to please him like nothing else, to make him lose control and show me everything underneath the surface. I had to strip him down the same way he'd done to me, if only to share souls with a stranger for one beautiful night.

“Babe, what the hell do you think you're doing?” he rumbled, fisting my hair as I unzipped his fly, reaching in for his cock.

“What do you think?” I actually smiled after I said it, something I hadn't done with a man since I'd fooled around with the rich boy and popular jocks in college. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Megan...wait. You shouldn't.” He pulled my hair so tight my hand stopped on his boxers, one pull away from grasping the huge, hot, rock hard length underneath. “I don't need any goddamned favors for saving your life.”

“It's not a
quid pro quo,
Skin. Don't worry about that. I'm not the screwed up little girl you think. I have desires...
needs.
”

Crap. That last word hissed out of my mouth so sharp it caused me to tremble. My fingers instinctively tightened on his cock, wondering what it would feel like to draw him deep inside my mouth, inside my body.

My pussy tingled, wet and alive in a way it hadn't been for at least a year. Not even Crawford or the other boy toys I'd had made me burn like this.

They hadn't killed for me. They hadn't warped life and death. They hadn't mastered hell and carried me through it. And they absolutely didn't have a single thing on this giant warrior in front of me, this man who'd carved his glorious body by fucking and fighting instead of lifting weights.

He was stronger than anyone I'd ever felt, and it wasn't just because he'd saved me. Some of the truckers Ricky brought in to use me were huge, but they weren't as dynamic, as strong, as masculine as this perfect beast I wanted for the night.

One night wasn't a sin. One night with him wouldn't ruin me – on the contrary, it might bring me back to life.

“It's too early for this shit. You shouldn't even think about it 'til you go home and talk to somebody. Get some help. Get your head screwed on straight.”

I looked him right in the eye and ran my tongue across my lips. His words told a different story than the hunger in his eyes. He wanted me, and for the first time in months, I remembered how amazing it was to be wanted.

“Come on. Don't be shy. You're not going to stop me if I pull this out and give it a little kiss, are you? I swear I'm really good at it. I'm clean. I'll make you feel so fucking good, Skin, if you'll just make me feel human again tonight.” I swallowed, fighting the lump of angst and regret in my throat. “It's been so long...I haven't wanted a man until you. This isn't about repaying you for anything. This is about what
I
want, and I know it's the same thing you do too. Can't we just enjoy each other for one short night?”