Outlaw's Bride (14 page)

Day by day. Kiss by kiss. Fuck by fuck. Kicking and screaming.

She became
mine
in more ways than she could even imagine the instant my ink bled into her skin. And once a man in this club claimed anybody, it was damned well forever. We'd never had a fucker kick his old lady to the asphalt since we toppled the old Prez, Fang, and I sure as shit wasn't gonna be the first.

I watched her lean on the hood of the landlord's SUV and sign the lease, before he picked it up and passed it to me. “Here you are, sir.”

I ripped it outta his hands and slammed the paper on the metal surface. “Just give me the fucking pen. You know how much extra I'm paying on this place to skip the credit check.”

M
oving day came with a bright September haze.

Not that I did much moving for the first few hours. I brought Caleb into the house and it took me awhile to calm him down. All this moving around, meeting strangers, passing our days in the strange, noisy clubhouse, had clearly overloaded my poor baby's senses.

I sat in the spare room upstairs, empty except for a rocking chair Roman brought up, staring out the window as he hauled in huge boxes and furniture. Asphalt was the only one there to help, but Roman moved with the strength and energy of a whole moving crew.

Then Norm called. I bit my lip, tensing with my finger on the phone's button. The club hadn't taken it away from me like they did with most of their prisoners. I guess I'd been extra cooperative – and what else could I do except swallow their orders whole?

I tapped the connect button, and Norm unloaded.

“Sally, are you out of your fucking mind? I get maybe going away to that clubhouse for a couple days after the bastard all but dragged you out. But our place is your damned
home.
Not with him. I don't give a shit what they keep saying. I'm not going, and neither should you. That man, Stryker, told me I should've been gone days ago to avoid getting my head chopped. I don't care. I'm not going fucking anywhere, and I can't believe you rolled over for these biker idiots.”

“These idiots
are
the only thing between us and a Mexican blade in the middle of the night. Maybe worse.” I gathered my breath and sighed. “It's too dangerous, Norm. Don't be a stubborn jackass. You really should get out of there. I know it's hard, I know it's not ideal, but you're going to get yourself killed. This isn't just about me either. I can't have my son living in a place that isn't safe.”

Norm laughed, fast and shrill. “Safe? You gotta be kidding! You think you're safe living with that fucking biker? Do you even
know
what those guys do in their spare time?”

“Mostly drink a lot. Sometimes chase skirt.”

Or sometimes take a girl prisoner, slap a tattoo on her, and call her 'mine,'
I thought.

“Nothing's funny about this shit, Sally. Stop screwing around.”

“I know. And I don't want you getting hurt.” I paused, listening to the tremor in his breathing. “Norm, we have savings in the business account. We can take the loss this season. There's no need to put yourself in harm's way just to work for money we don't absolutely need.”

“You think I don't know that?” He sounded so hurt. “Jesus, Sally. This isn't about taking a loss. These biker assholes obviously can't protect this place like I thought. I'm staying here. I'll have my gun, I'll have my guys, and we'll fill the gaps the MC can't cover. I'm not gonna let some drug dealing bastards roll up and torch my old man's farmhouse. It's been in this family for a hundred years. I won't be the coward watching it burn. We've grown up here for generations, and I owe them better than turning tail and coming home to cinders. My wife's ashes are here.”

“Norm...please.” Tears filled my eyes.

Jenny died before Uncle Ralph brought me in as a team. It took years for my poor cousin to shake off the loss, to function as a human being again, and now he'd fallen back into his grief. He sounded just as shocked, weak, and stunned as he had after her death.

“Don't. You're welcome to come home when you're ready. If I've got to protect everything this family's ever worked for, everything we've ever had, then I'll do it alone. I don't need you.”

The line went dead. I dropped the phone on the floor and walked over to the crib, staring at Caleb. I tried my best not to let my heart stop, blinking away the harsh tears building in my eyes.

Every compromise I could've possibly made was bad. I had to give up something – just like I had to give myself to the bastard pounding his way up the front steps outside.

I watched him through the window. Roman handled the massive coffee table without even breaking a sweat. His muscles were fully flexed, making him look even huger than usual. Hotter too, much as I didn't want to admit it.

Hot, angry, forbidden heat stormed in my veins. The little flashes of fire that told me I
wanted
him were the worst.

It wasn't the first time I'd sensed it. I felt it on his bike, the road purring underneath us, every nerve in my body humming to match the speed of my heart. My body couldn't deny there was an attraction.

There always had been. There always would be.

How long before I let his drinking, whoring, cursing lips touch mine? Even if he agreed to sleep in another room, how long would it be before I gave into my long starved urge for a man's touch?

I shuddered.

A huge crash outside my door brought me back to my senses. I popped the door and looked out into the hallway.

“Cocksucking bastard motherfucker!” The box of toys Asphalt had dropped down the stairs on the landing busted open, strewing its contents out around his boots. He looked like he was about to have a stroke.

“Do you need a hand?” I asked, folding my arms.

He looked up, and the anger in his beady eyes melted into shame. “Nah. Big boy doesn't want you on your feet, throwing out your back going up and down these stairs, carrying all this shit.”

“He really said that?”

“He says a lot of shit, and there's no arguing about this. Let us do the work, old lady,” he growled, reminding me what I'd become. “That's what brothers are for.”

Maybe he had a point, not that I liked being shoved to the side by pure testosterone. Like it or not, I was being forced into the MC's machine now.

I woke up late from a nap, after dark. My heart sputtered as I checked the time, and realized I should've fed Caleb a couple hours ago.

“Shit.” The house was quiet.

I walked out of the bedroom and into his room, only to find Roman there, an empty jar of baby food at his side. He sat on the floor, holding the kid – a strange contrast with such a giant, rough man and a tiny baby in his arms.

“Roman?'

He turned around slowly with a finger pressed to his lips, warning me not to wake the sleeping boy in his arms. His gentle movements sent shock and sadness through my veins. I'd never seen him like this before, and it scared me because I didn't know how to react.

Jesus. What was I supposed to think? It was like they were meant to be together, and I'd kept them apart, delayed something beautiful and natural by being the most indecisive bitch in the world.

I wasn't ready to whack myself across the head. But I had to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I was wrong.

Roman might be a drunken cowboy on a steel horse, and a bastard to me, but could he be a good father after all?

Instead of fishing for an answer, I swallowed the lump in my throat, bridging the distance between us. I kneeled on the floor next to him, running my fingers softly through Caleb's little crop of hair. It was getting darker by the day. He'd
really
look like Roman in a few more years, and I wasn't sure how the hell to feel about that.

Surely, it couldn't be worse than the giant in his leather cut staring right at me.

“You seriously fed him?” I asked.

“Yeah. Went down easy too. It's almost fun when he stops fussing.”

“Well, let's put him to bed,” I said, reaching for the boy and pulling him out of the biker's arms as gently as I could. Roman stood up and followed me.

We took a moment, staring at the little man we'd created as he turned over. I wasn't sure what the hell we were doing, but I couldn't ignore the fact that it felt like a real family moment. Almost.

If only he hadn't treated me so shitty. If only I hadn't cut him off for almost two years. If only the cartel hadn't come and the MC wasn't so vicious. If only I wasn't born so none of this would've happened.

“Babe, you okay?”

No, goddamn it. I wasn't. I'd been living for about a week with the risk of every word striking my ears triggering tears, and it was starting to get
really
exhausting.

“I'll be fine. It's just a long day.”

“Yeah, that's moving for you. Want me to finish putting your bed together, or what?” A sharp glint entered his eyes.

Do you want to bury the hatchet by fucking all night?
That was what I heard behind his words, and my whole body flushed accordingly.

“Jesus, no!” It came out way more forcefully than I wanted, and he blinked in surprise. “I mean, I've still got my sleeping bag. I'll be fine. We can get it together tomorrow and start putting things in their places.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“What bedroom are you taking tonight?” I asked, genuinely curious, and also a little afraid he was going to demand mine.

“This one. I'm gonna spend the night with my son. I'll crash on the floor. Every fucking minute counts when I've missed so much.” He said it softly, but it still hurt like hell.

“Okay. You know where to find me if he causes any trouble, or you need help.” I started heading for the door, but before I could get out, he grabbed my wrist.

“Don't worry about that shit. The kid's an angel. You did good, Sally.”

I smiled, slowly pulled my hand from his, and slipped outside. I gave the door a gentle pull shut behind me.

When I got back to my room, and nestled into the sleeping bag, the waterworks came like lava. Intense, heartwarming, and suffocating all at once.

I woke up near dawn feeling refreshed for the first time in a million years. I tiptoed toward the bedroom next door, cracked the door, and saw Roman sprawled out on the floor. He snored gently, shirtless and sculpted, laying parallel with Caleb's crib.

Somewhere in another world, maybe father and son shared some dreams.

I never knew something could be so touching and so fucking hot simultaneously. Staring at his chest too long was like gazing at the sun, and my pussy absorbed the heat, tingling with the memory of what his rough body did to me years ago.

It was like my flesh
knew
this was the man who'd knocked me up at some deep, primal level. And as bad as he'd screwed me over and pissed me off, my womb wanted more, wanted to feel his cock thrusting deep inside me.

I imagined him fucking me, biting my lip the entire time. His huge body shadowing mine, flinging me up and down like a ragdoll, burying himself to the hilt and growling in my ear when he unloaded. He'd fill me with what I craved – more of his potent seed – that strange, miraculous chemical cocktail I hadn't felt for years.

God.
I had to get away, before I went in, woke him up, and made a huge fucking mistake.

It hadn't been twenty-four hours since I'd hated his guts. I was still his prisoner, after all, his
old lady
, only because he'd forced me out of my house and tagged me like a piece of meat with that tramp stamp.

Downstairs, Asphalt had started stuffing things in cabinets before he left. No surprise, the hotheaded biker didn't have a clue about organizing a kitchen. After about an hour shuffling things around, I wiped my brow, and then walked over to the fridge to see if I could pull anything together from the sparse ingredients he'd picked up on the way to the move.

Nothing but eggs, meat, cream, and peppers. Probably a typical diet for a man as big and built as Roman. Those muscles didn't bulge and work without the right fuel.

Five minutes later, I smiled to myself, cooking up a breakfast for the first time in my brand new house. Sure, it was a rental, but it didn't have the constant morning noise of the ranch I'd shared with Norm for so long.

It was quiet. Peaceful.

Just as I started plating the breakfast, I heard footsteps behind me. Roman's hands wrapped around my waist and jerked my butt dangerously close to him before I could even turn around.

“Didn't know you were a mind reader, babe. Feels like I've been in hibernation and haven't eaten all fucking year. Shit, that smells good.” He leaned in close, drawing a sharp breath.

My body tensed, especially when his fingers flexed around my belly, only a few inches from my breasts.
Jesus.

I reached up and pulled around my collar, trying to hide the way my nipples turned to pebbles. I silently cursed myself for forgetting to put on a bra.

Part of me wanted to believe he was really just hungry for the omelet scramble steaming on the plate next to me. But the way he inhaled, leaning in close, I had a feeling he was smelling
me,
feeding a hunger building in the rock hard length pressed against my ass.

“It's ready when you are!” I chirped, spinning around nervously. “Come on, let's eat.”

He barely loosened his grip enough to turn, and locked on tight, holding me against the counter. Of course he still had to be shirtless.

Bare chested and magnificent, the ferocious bear stamped on his chest matching his feral expression.

“You know I want the whole damned package,
right?
You were coming with me and wearing my brand regardless, babe, whether you wanted it or not. I can live with pretending. I can deal with playing this shit up for show.”

He licked his lips, pushing his face in, heading for my ear. His stubble brushed across my cheek, and my knees turned to jelly, melting like hot wax alongside everything else below the waist.

God damn. Was it already too late to back away? I'd forgotten how deliciously electric his touch could be when I didn't want to gouge his eyes out, how easy it was for his skin, his hair, his strength to make every nerve in my skin
sing.