Never Love an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (6 page)

I'd had enough.

I reached for his gun and slammed him into the wall so fucking hard his teeth rattled. Music to my ears, and I wanted more.

“Play nice. Go mop the toilets or some shit like a good little boy, and maybe you can have this back.”

I must've been speaking a different language. The fuck whined about us, pretended he didn't know this was a 'shakedown.'

He couldn't be that fucking stupid.
Of course
we weren't here for tea, we were here to bust his ass for info, guns, money, and to flush this viper's nest clean of any poison. I held on tight to his greasy gun and pistol whipped his ugly face so hard his head slammed into the wall.

One. Two. Three.

The third time, I almost busted out his teeth. I realized my cock was hard, and it wasn't just due to the power struggle here.

I was honestly starting to get my hopes up that maybe the girl in the other room wasn't just another piece of half-starved druggie meat.

Maybe she'd look halfway decent. Maybe I'd actually want to fuck her.

What then?

Ricky whined some shit I didn't pay attention to, wiping the blood off his lip. I stuffed his gun into my pants and turned, giving him one last push against the wall as I told him to get the fuck outside and out of my sight.

I'd do this alone, or I'd knock him out cold and pop half the teeth in his mouth like popcorn kernels.

The blows to the face must've knocked some sense into him. He didn't follow when I walked into the chick's dark room and slammed the door behind me.

She huddled in a corner, and I caught a flash of bright blue eyes in the darkness. Awesome blue eyes, the color of hot gas flames ready to ignite the world.

Shit.
She was pretty.

No, fuck pretty. Compared to all the other bitches here, maybe even most chicks I'd seen in my life, this girl left them all in the stinking dust.

She had three times the curves on her slender body the other whores had. Her skin looked more pristine with every step I took closer. She looked healthy, sexy. She looked like the first thing in a long time that truly caused my cock to bolt up.

My dick begged me to slam her against the nearest wall. The fucking hair stood up on the back of my neck when I looked at her, imagining those blue eyes rippling like pools while I slammed myself into her, snarling like a devil and filling her cunt with my come.

The young brunette looked scared out of her wits, and she couldn't stop running her eyes up and down my cut, like she already wanted me. Or else she wanted to figure out what the fuck I was doing standing there.

What the hell? She had to have seen a biker bastard like me before. She'd probably taken about a dozen cocks from the Deads, not to mention a few hundred truckers, but damn if she didn't look like a virgin.

My cock hammered like mad in my pants by the time I was close enough to speak. Fire churned hot in my balls, sending pure hellfire into my blood. My brain still wanted me to talk like a sensible man, but everything below the waist decided then and there that I
had
to fuck this girl.

My boot scraped something on the ground – a scrap of leather and metal. I realized it was a chain, like something for a dog.

Fuck me. What kinda kinky shit did that twisted little shit have her doing?

Her eyes locked onto my name patch. I was about to reach for her sweet, sexy face and take what my cock commanded me to when her plump lips opened, too plush and healthy for any Tennessee whore I'd ever known.

“Skin? Seriously?”

Fuck, maybe she was actually half as innocent as she looked. I smiled, reached up, and pounded my fist on my chest.

“That's what they all call me, babe. Don't wear it out before I fuck you ragged.” My dick throbbed again, harder every time.

I hated fighting the unruly bastard. I seriously wanted to do everything I said, but I didn't come here to fuck whores. I just had to make her believe it.

Her cheeks flushed. Turned honest-to-God red, like some prom girl on a date letting a man see her panties for the first time.

“You got a name? Or at least a sexy nickname from your jackass pimp?”

“Fresh.” She paused. “You know...like fresh meat.”

I threw my head back and laughed. It was cruel, absurd, and downright fucking stupid. That couldn't be the name I'd call her by. Not a fuckin' chance.

I reached for her face, cupped her chin, and squeezed. Leave it to Ricky to give the most beautiful woman I'd seen in this place the stupidest goddamned name on the planet.

“Seriously, what the fuck's going on here?” I gestured to the limp leash with the chain on the floor. “You don't seem as whacked out as all the other girls. I know you get special treatment. The bastard was all nervous before I came in here, begged me not to see you alone. Why does he chain you up if he's so hell-bent on selling your mouth to strangers?”

My eyes fell to her lips. Fuck, they were moneymakers, if I ever saw any. Sweet, glossy and vibrant. Just the kinda lips I liked to imagine wrapped around every inch of me, pulling on my balls, stamping wet kisses up and down my body before I claimed the wet heat between her legs and shook her 'til she screamed.

“Because I'm Ricky's favorite. His prisoner.” The minute she said it, she spun around, refusing to face me.

I watched her little hand cover her mouth.
Prisoner, huh?

Now, we were getting to some meat and bones. My arm went around her waist and I pulled her tight, slamming her into me, making me gasp 'til she met my eyes.

“Start talking. I knew he was sweeping something under the rug.”

“I can't,” she whispered, wiping the long, hot tear sliding down her cheek. “Please, just let me do my job. I shouldn't be telling you any of this. This is what you're here for, right?”

She jerked toward the nightstand, bending in my arms. A drawer popped open, revealing the biggest stash of condoms I'd ever seen.

Blood rushed to my dick. For a second, I seriously considered letting her gag on my cock if she didn't want to talk. Too bad I was born with a conscience, and all the violence and dirty deals in the MC hadn't beaten it outta me yet.

She turned gently, wearing a shaky smile, tearing at the foil with her teeth. My fingers darted out and I flicked the condom out of her grip. It hit the floor with a loud bounce.

Surprise shone in those perfect blue eyes. But it wasn't half of what I saw a second later, when I picked her up and moved her across the room, flattening her against the nearest wall. She gasped, so sharp and sudden I wanted to hear it a hundred more times, preferably naked and moaning.

“What do you want? I thought you'd rather have me on my knees,” she sputtered, shock crinkling her face.

“I want you to sing. I'm not here to fuck. My brothers and I hit this dump to see what Ricky's been up to, and you're the first interesting thing I've found. Who are you? Really?”

She cracked. I loosened my grip as more hot tears fell down her face. I ran my fingers through her chestnut hair, noticeably cleaner and softer than the other girls I'd seen. They couldn't compare.

“Megan Willow Wilder,” she hissed, soft and harsh in my ear.

“The fuck?” That was a fancy name for a place where the girls were supposed to have stupid names like Honey, Cherry Anne, or Fresh.

She shook her head, tightening her face like she couldn't believe I'd never heard the name.

“Spill it, babe,” I growled. “You're not supposed to be here, and I need to know why.”

“I was kidnapped. He drugged me, brought me here, chained me up. Ricky pimps me out to cover my upkeep, but he really wants to find me a buyer for bigger bucks. I'm a virgin.”

I had to catch another laugh tearing at my throat. No fucking way.

Did she really expect me to believe this? A virgin in a trucker spa, sucking off guys and wearing a kink chain? For all I knew, she was Ricky's favorite, the pimp's personal slut that he used to unwind after a long day of work. Some of the bastards had them, after all.

“I'm Eric and Judy Wilder's daughter. Look them up, please.” She sounded desperate. Probably noticed the skepticism lining my smirk. “You have to believe me. We're rich, my dad owns three businesses all over the state, just do a search and you'll see. You have to get me out of here, Skin. Please. Get me out, before Ricky gets what he wants. I don't want to die a fucking slave!”

That did it. My fingers smoothed their way through her hair, and then I pulled it tight. I forced her to look at me through the tears.

I had an incredible ear for bullshit. Always had.

This chick's story sounded like a drugged out fairy tale, but damn if she didn't put up a good act. “It's not too late, Skin. Take me with you. I'll do anything to get out of here.”

Her tongue flicked across her lips. Her small, soft hands pushed against my chest. Those palms traveled downward, and I saw lightning in her eyes when she moved them over my abs.

My cock screamed, begging me to take her, to do the one crazy thing I couldn't. Not today, anyway.

Not after the shit she'd just told me. I wasn't gonna fuck an honest-to-God slave, no matter how hot she looked in that cheap getup. Not unless she surrendered willingly with nothing more than unbridled lust.

No bullshit. No quid pro quo. No bargaining.

Fuck.
I grabbed both her wrists and pushed her away, putting some sorely needed space between us.

A man can't think rationally when he's been without a woman this long. Especially a man who's used to getting what he wants, fucking women with ease, feeling them fall all over him just because he's got the right patch and a hard, inked body underneath it.

“I can't do it,” I growled, eyeing the disappointment in her face. “There's no way to know you're not putting up a smokescreen 'til I check you out. I get it, I asked, but what the fuck do you think I'm supposed to do with a question like that? Throw you on the back of my bike and ride off into the sunset after I shoot the pimp in the gut and leave him here to bleed like a stuck fuckin' pig?”

Her eyes shined hopefully. Damn if it didn't sound good to me, too, but I'd been in this lifestyle long enough to know it was too simple. Too convenient. We couldn't be reckless – not when the Deads were certain to come sniffing around a dead pimp under their protection.

Dust and Joker would give me hell if it went off like that too. I had to go back, check this woman out, and clear it with my brothers. If rescue was in the cards, then I needed backup. There wasn't another way, not if I wanted to keep my sanity and make sure we all stayed alive.

“If you gave a shit, you would,” she said coldly.

I narrowed my eyes, wondering what kind of sexy, strange little thing I was really dealing with. Challenges didn't scare me away, but damn if she wasn't asking for the impossible.

I had to prove her wrong. I had to get her the fuck out of here, and trash the dirty pimp keeping these drugged out chicks chained up like dogs.

“I'll look you up, Meg, and I'll be back.” She shuddered as I grabbed her, jerked her close, pinned her in my embrace.

“Bullshit. I shouldn't have said anything.” She sighed, her voice straining with more sadness. “You men are all the same. You're the first one I thought might be decent enough to save me, and I told you everything. I can't believe what a
fucking idiot
I am.”

My fingers pinched her cheeks, hard enough to shut her the hell up. Then I folded my hands behind her soft, fragile neck and pulled the heavy silver loop off my ringer finger.

My eyes pierced hers. I'd let her keep clucking about how bad I was. Didn't give a shit if she thought I was the devil himself.

“I slipped up,” she whimpered. “Go ahead. Leave me here. Pretend you didn't hear anything.”

Just a few more days. She'd see how flat out wrong she was.

“I'm telling you, I'm coming back. Take this and stuff it somewhere he won't find it,” I said, pressing my ring into her hands. “You'll give it back to me when I break you outta here for good. This is a club ring and a family heirloom of sorts. My brothers tugged this thing off my old man's dead, cold fingers. It's all I've got. If you think I'm gonna abandon ship, then you'd better take a good, hard look at who you're dealing with. That ring's mine, babe, and so are you. I'm not leaving either one of 'em to rot in this shithole.”

I fist-thumped my chest, right across my name tag. I wanted to burn my name into her brain every waking minute.

She'd better get used to hearing, thinking, seeing
Skin,
and nothing else. That was the name she'd be calling her savior soon, the one she'd be begging with those lush little lips, the only name she'd be screaming when I threw her into bed and fucked her so hard I wiped away every last trace of the dirty, violent bastards she'd served in this place.

“Give me a couple days or so. I'll be right back here for you, baby, and next time you'll be coming with me. I promise.”

Her lips pursed sourly. For a second, I thought she meant to give me more sass, more of her ridiculous doubts. But she squeezed her palm around my dad's club ring and brushed away more tears.

“I need to go. He'll start wondering what the fuck we're doing in here if I linger too long.” I gave her a sharp look. “Keep that thing safe. I'm counting on it. Anytime you start to doubt, think you're meant to be here forever, you pick it up and fold your hand around it just like that. Hold on 'til it burns your skin. You don't belong here, Meg, and I'm not letting you spend a second longer in this fucked up cage the instant I get my brothers on board.”

I put one arm over her shoulder, guiding her to the bed. Tears rolled down her face in steady, hot rivulets. I brushed away as many as I could, feeling her jerk softly each time I touched her face.

Fuck, that face.

For a whore, she really was beautiful. It wasn't just the lighting or my own imagination. Hell no.

The woman was real, every damned inch of her. Prettier than the vapid party girls who normally sucked and fucked every inch of me. They came to ride cock and put their lips on a biker boy when their dirty mouths weren't on the bottle, or some weaker man.