Never Love an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (37 page)

Bastard. I hated the little flash of heat that started low in my belly whenever I saw him, the fire that would've kept spreading down between my legs if I didn't look away. And I always did.

Avoiding him was all I had. I couldn't let him infect my mind.

We ate in silence until everyone was finished. He collected our trash and tossed it into a wastebin. We stood and followed him out into the smelly hallway. No matter how many times the door opened, my nose hadn't gotten used to the reeking tobacco and old whiskey that seeped out of everything.

My nerves shook when we walked through the bar, passing several tables with dark, savage looking men. They all stopped and eyeballed us. I could handle the ugly, lecherous looks, but my face burned with rage when their eyes ran up and down Jackie's body.

She stayed close to me, and I stayed even closer to Brass. Yeah, it was definitely bad when the devil I knew was a comfort against all these other demons.

As if sensing the unease, a rough hand reached for mine. I looked up in surprise as Brass took my hand. Refusing to fight it off was an even bigger surprise.

He led us past the bar and down another hall on the opposite side of the large building. We headed for an exit at the end that looked like it led into a big garage full of trucks and motorcycles. I could see them through the glass window in the door.

“Hey!” A rough voice hit the backs of our heads like bricks when we were almost at the door.

Brass released my hand and spun, pushed through us, and stepped forward, keeping Jackie and I behind him.

“What the fuck are you doing with these bitches, Brass? Didn't hear we were ready to release any collateral.” A big man with a bald head and beefy Popeye forearms folded his arms, waiting patiently for Brass to catch up to him.

“Blackjack said to get them outta the clubhouse, so that's what I'm doing. I'm following orders, Veep.” Brass shrugged, cool as the night breeze outside.

“Fucker should've ran it by me or Fang first. I'm not convinced these cunts aren't gonna talk. Roughed 'em up pretty good from what I heard during the debriefing. Girls don’t forget that kinda shit.” The big man he called VP grunted, showing his teeth.

“We were all there for church. I know you were paying attention, Veep, same as the rest of us. You know the older one's my old lady, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You saying I don't know how to control my own woman? Fuck, brother, I've kept 'em under lock and key every damned minute they've been in this clubhouse. I haven't done anything to hurt the club and I never would. Won't let them do it neither.”

The older man stepped forward, flexing one fist. Brass closed the distance between them, pushing his chest against the stranger, tipping his head in the air.

“Go ahead and break my jaw if you don't believe me, Crack. Missy's my fucking property now, and I know how to handle what's mine. I know where club biz begins and ends. I'm not telling her shit, and we're leaving so she doesn't stick her ears anywhere they don't belong here. Shit, I'll watch her and the baby girl day and night if I have to, just as soon as my woman's got my brand stamped on her skin.” Brass paused, sucking in a hot, angry breath. “Go ahead and knock my fucking teeth out if you got a problem with that. Just know they're gonna be yours if you do.”

I held my breath. The man had balls, and he was fighting for us in his own twisted way. I couldn't deny him that.

The older man's fist jerked – down to his side. With an angry swipe of the arm, he gave Brass a hard push. He caught himself against the wall, never taking his eyes off Crack's snarling face.

“Just get 'em the fuck outta my sight!” the VP roared. “You'd better make sure their mouths are sewn shut for your own damned sake. I won't hesitate to take you out back and use the Mauler on you myself if I hear a peep about either of those bitches going to daddy's old friends. The last fucking thing this club needs is cops sniffing around when the cartel's at our throats.”

Brass didn't say anything. He nodded once, then turned, leaving the raging volcano behind.

When he caught up to me, he grabbed my hand more fiercely this time, throwing open the door. We headed for a rusted old pickup and he opened the passenger door, waving Jackie and I inside.

I helped my sis get in and climbed in myself while he took the driver's side.

“Cover your eyes 'til we're through the gate,” Brass growled, backing the truck down a small parking strip. “Can't have either of you looking at this place and it's layout. I'll tell you when it's okay to see again.”

Jackie gave me an uncertain look. “Do it,” I mouthed silently, covering her eyes with one hand.

She struggled against me for a second, but then relented. We rode for about five to ten minutes in pure silence, listening to the truck's engine humming.

Keeping my brain from going to a thousand pitch black places was a constant struggle. I didn't want to believe he was going to hurt us or drop off our lifeless bodies – especially not after he'd put up such a convincing show – but I just didn't know.

I didn't know anything about this man except that he was a slightly smoother cog in the brutal machine called the Grizzlies MC. Trusting him wasn't going to happen – not without knowing we had our lives.

“Okay. You can open your eyes now,” he said firmly.

Uncovering Jackie's first, I looked out through the windshield into the night. We were definitely back in town, judging by all the bright lights. Just in time to watch him turn down a narrow residential street I'd seen a few times before.

We pulled up next to an old square three story building and he killed the engine, then reached past Jackie and I for the glove compartment. I watched him pull out a plastic tag and hang it on the rear view mirror.

“What're we doing here?” Jackie asked, beating me to the punch.

“Sleeping, eating, shitting. Looking pretty.” I frowned at his crude answer. “Whatever the hell you girls do in your off hours. This is your new home.”

I swallowed. It was too good to be true. Well, as 'good' as having a bland new apartment handed to us by a thug like Brass could be.

He got out and slammed his door without saying another word, stopping by the building's glass door to wait for us. I held Jackie's hand until she shook me off.

Whatever, as long as she was following my footsteps.

The place had that eighties feel, and it smelled just as old too. But after three days in the stinking clubhouse, anything was an improvement. Brass led us up a small staircase and stopped at the second door on the right.

“Number 205. That's your new place.” He shoved a key in and popped the door, holding it open for us.

We stepped inside. The biggest surprise was seeing the place fully furnished. The couch, chairs, and little dining table next to the kitchen weren't going to win any awards for fashion, but they looked clean and functional. I walked around, eyeing my new home, leaning close to the tacky brown sofa and giving it a sniff.

Thank God. The smoky old stink of the clubhouse wasn't bleeding out the cushions, so he hadn't gotten it from there.

Jackie walked straight into the little hall. I joined her a second later, wondering why she looked so perked up.

“Two bedrooms!” she chirped. “That's a lot better than the crap I thought he'd –“

She stopped, swallowing her words. Brass stood at the other end of the hall, his arms folded, looking seriously scary in the darkness.

I reached for a switch in the bathroom and flipped it on. The light did a lot to take the evil edge off him, but he still looked like he'd leave scorch marks if I got too close. He was all muscle, all fire rippling in his flesh, and he held every last key to our fate in his big calloused hand.

“Catch.” He threw me the small bundle of keys and I threw my hands out, wrapping my fingers around it.

“You're paid up through the end of the month, and I'll chip in something for next month too, as needed.” He turned.

I followed him into the living room while Jackie lingered in the bigger bedroom. She'd already claimed hers. Not something I was going to fight her about.

“The couch folds down,” he said, flopping on it in front of me. His leather cut jumped up his stomach for a second, revealing a tight set of abs I hadn't seen on a man outside underwear ads in magazines.

I quirked an eyebrow. “Does it matter? Something tells me we're not allowed to have any guests.”

“Fuck, yes, it matters. This is where I'm gonna crash while I keep an eye on you two.”

My heart sank. Of course. Just because he'd moved us to a better prison, didn't mean we were home and free.

And why not? My first instinct alone would've been to grab Jackie, head for a hotel, and spill my guts about this nightmare to the first cop I saw.

“It's been a long fucking time since I lived in an apartment,” he said, stretching his huge body out on the cushions. “You'll have the place to yourselves most of the time. Club business keeps me busy during the day, you know.”

Duh. We'd been left alone for days, never knowing when he'd blow in, or what he'd do with us. His 'business' only fed the hellish uncertainty filling our lives.

I cautiously planted my butt in the wicker rocking chair next to him. “Fine. What about school for Jackie? She's been out all week dealing with my father's death, but she's supposed to be back on Monday...”

He shrugged. “Tell 'em she's sick. I fucked off in school all the time and turned out fine. Guess I'm lucky nobody asked any questions in those days.”

I wanted to burst out laughing. Was he fucking serious? Whatever he'd been when he was young, he was an outlaw biker now!

A killer. A thief. A brute.

All the evil things it was hard to visualize when he was right in front of me, looking sexier than any criminal should.

Somehow, I held the crazed, panicky laugh in my chest. Good thing too because if it got started, I knew it wouldn't stop until I was paralyzed on the floor in tears.

“Brass, she's fourteen years old. Her father just died from cancer and her older sister led her right into a pack of –“

Devils. Fuckers. Assholes.

No words were adequate for how the Grizzlies treated us. And I still got angry and sad every time I thought about daddy too.

Leaving us with nothing would've been better than what he'd dropped in my lap – why the fuck did he think I'd have any idea how to handle this? Why did he die painting a target on his daughters' backs?

Because the cancer rotted his brain. Or maybe desperation did.
I didn't like that answer. It filled my skull with cruel cement.

Brass threw his feet on the floor and straightened up. “What were you gonna say? You don't have to self-censor here, babe. I've heard it all. You think calling me a rude name's gonna hurt my widdle feelings?”

Bastard. He made a puppy dog face and grinned. I shrugged, guessing it was better than having him jump on me and throw his hand on my throat for the stifled insult.

“We both know what happened,” I snapped. “There's no need to resort to name calling. I don't need to sink to your level.”

He laughed. A low, rich, smoky baritone sound, older sounding than his face suggested.

“Sure wish you would. Might help you blow off some fucking steam. Christ, I know I need to. If you think I like having to deal with this shit – hostages – you're wrong. Deadly fucking wrong. I'm doing the best I can to make my brothers happy and keep you alive.”

He had me there. After bringing us here, I was starting to believe his bullshit, and that made me hate him even more. I shot daggers out of my eyes as I looked at him, annoyed that his face looked too handsome to cut.

If only he could've been a total gargoyle...feeding the hatred would've been so much easier.

Damn it, why did he look so different from most of the other guys in his club? Rude, savage bikers who acted like demons shouldn't wear the faces of angels.

“You've done enough. I don't like this crap, but I'm not an idiot, Brass. I won't go out. I won't say anything unless I get your permission,
sir.
” I practically stuck out my tongue when I said it. “But Jackie...I can't give up on her when she hasn't gotten started yet. She needs an education.”

Brass stood up, growling. He moved fast, pacing the room like a frustrated tiger in its cage. I wondered if he was about to kick over the brand new coffee table next to my legs when he stopped next to me and reached for his wallet.

“Here!” Crumpled up bills landed at my feet. “It's all I got 'til the next share comes in from the club. Pull the girl outta school and buy her some fucking lessons. Five hundred's gotta get something. I can't fucking risk her breaking down and tattling to teacher. You'll listen to these lessons and make sure she doesn't say anything she shouldn't.”

I was frozen in disbelief for at least a solid minute, looking at his dark, angry eyes. Jesus.

He was very,
very
good at making it hard to hate him, especially when the way he'd given me the money should've made it easy. Hell, five hundred dollars didn't make a dent in the two million we'd lost.

It wasn't yours,
a sad voice in my head reminded me.
You didn't do anything to deserve it, and whatever your father did was evil.

Ignoring the sly voice in my head, I scooped up the money, stuffing it into my pocket. Brass took two more long walks through the room, shaking his head. It was like watching a grenade having its pin stuffed in before it went off.

“Look, I'm really fucking sorry all this shit had to come down like this. I know it was your daddy who sold us out and not you. You and your sis got in the way. The guys are so fucked up and stretched to their limits they would've killed you if I hadn't been there...I stopped it. I saved you.” He held up a hand as I opened my lips. “I'm not looking for any gratitude, so you can shove that shit right back down your throat. I'm just looking for an understanding, babe. You gotta tell me you get what I'm trying to do here. This little tango is all that's gonna save
all
our lives – including mine – because I'm the lucky fuck who's responsible for you two. You fuck up, hurt the club, and we all die together.”