Outlaw's Bride (26 page)

More than a dozen cartel bastards waited, their weapons drawn. Blackjack walked out, holding out an arm to keep us back. When the fucker with the gold teeth saw him, staring through his oversized shades, he ducked down into the SUV and slid out the passenger door a couple seconds later, smoothing his suit as he stood up.

He looked like a fucking lounge lizard, but the large silver crest on his lapel told us exactly what we were looking at. His emblem had the same eagle swooping down on the desert snake I'd seen before. But the only dudes who got these fancy medals were cartel bosses, and now there was one in front of us, a general on a mission.

“Ah, Blackjack,” the Mexican said with a grin, his thick accent more noticeable out here. “You're even older than I've been told. If you hadn't killed legions of my men, I'd shake your hand.”

“Shut the fuck up and get on with it,” the Prez snapped. “What're your terms? I know when my balls are in a vise.”

The cartel boss' grin melted. “I believe in fighting fair. I'll offer you the same thing you've given my soldiers – a quick, clean, easy death like men.”

Asphalt snorted. He reached for his nine millimeter, and suddenly a dozen men jerked like one machine, readying their guns and aiming them in our direction.

“Don't. I know you're a smart man, and a reasonable man. You have lost, old man.” The don's gold teeth reappeared, this time like a vicious wolf. “It's completely up to you whether you want your MC to die in agony. Perhaps we'll spare your life for a few hours to talk about the big picture after every last one of your brothers here is dead. Step out of the way.”

“No,” the Prez growled, digging his boots into the concrete. His old wound must've scorched like fuck. “You want to talk terms, then you'll do it with the rest of my boys, and you'll kill me first. Go, collect your rat inside, and get on with it.”

The boss looked at one of his guys, muttered something in Spanish, and sent him behind us, into the warehouse. The grunt returned a couple seconds later, marching out Stryker, his hands still bound behind his back.

When I saw the big Mexican return to his leader, leaving Stryker behind with the rest of us, my fucking heart sank. They were either enormous bastards who'd butcher their own informants...or Sally was right.

“There's nothing to collect except your bodies,” Gold Teeth said. “We've already got our insider, and he's going to be rewarded quite handsomely.”

Shit. She
was
right.

Stryker couldn't be our rat, unless this was all a sick joke. Not out of the question for these fucking demons from across the border.

But I knew it wasn't that easy. I knew we'd just spent our last couple hours on earth torturing a fellow brother, an innocent man. That shit alone made me want to walk right into the gorilla holding the shotgun, and feel the hellfire cut through my chest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Is this how my old man felt before he lost his mind and got himself killed?

The whole world condensed into a tight black ball. The Prez's mouth was moving, but my ears wouldn't work, and I had to grip my gun tight to keep from passing out.

An SUV's door slamming brought me back to life. I saw the devil himself walking toward us, through the cartel ranks, Beam, complete with his fucked up hair.

“You sick, fucked up sonofabitch,” I growled, getting in front of Blackjack.

All the guns were trained on me. The asshole kept coming, slithering past the evil bastard who'd offered him his pieces of silver.

“Easy, big boy. Your old lady wouldn't like you going out in a hail of rage and bullets – not that she's got much choice at this point. I'd
love
a shot at giving you the same treatment I gave Norm. Go ahead and give me a good reason.”

My fists had never been so damned hungry in my whole life. It took every ounce of strength I had to fight the urge to pop this fucker's brains out his skull.

As long as I controlled my rage, I wouldn't end up like my old man. At least not by one careless, explosive instant.

It wasn't looking good for us, but every second we delayed and kept ourselves alive evened the odds against these bastards. I couldn't let the caveman urge to tear his fucking head off steal my whole fucking future with Sally and Caleb. I had to let him swing his dick without trying to hack it off until the time was right.

“Carlos!” The cartel boss barked, and Beam whipped his head around. “Get back in line. Now.”

Gold Teeth stepped forward, shoved his way past me, and got in the Prez's face. “Well? You going to take the deal I offered, or not? It's the best one you'll get, old man. And you're all out of leverage.”

“No. You'll take my counter-offer, or you'll kill us all, and get no terms with the club. No treaty means you'll have to destroy every other Grizzlies charter, all the way to Seattle. They'll never give up unless you've got a piece of paper with my name on it. Don't think you'll get anybody to flip. We've already cleaned house in every charter that would even think about cutting you a deal,
capo.
”

The Mexican clenched his jaw when the Prez called out the cartel captain. “A pity you didn't do such a good job keeping your own charter clean. Believe me, I'd love to spill your blood where you stand.”

“Here I am,” Blackjack growled, stepping away from the cartel boss and spreading his arms. “Do it. Firing squad style. What're you afraid of?”

Several men aimed their guns, locked and loaded on the Prez.
Fuck!

The rest of the boys stirred, ready to jump in front of him and take every bullet if they needed to. Shit, shit, we were gonna die together anyway, but I sure as fuck wouldn't before I watched Beam and the cartel boss bleed out on the cold pavement underneath our boots.

“Afraid? No, old man, the only one who ought to be afraid here is
you.
” The boss stared at us, snarled out something in rapid fire Spanish, and all but two of the men lowered their guns. “I'll give you a few minutes. Think about what you're doing. Enjoy one last puff on your tobacco. Then, we'll see if you come to your senses. The only reason I haven't cut you and your men to pieces is because I'd
really
like to see your signature in blood on a new treaty. You do that for me, and anything can happen here today. There's still time to save lives all across your club, Blackjack.”

“Go to hell.” Blackjack reached into his pocket, plucked out a smoke, and lit it up.

For the first time since I quit that shit ten years ago, I wished I hadn't. It would've been fucking sweet to enjoy one last smoke.

But not half as sweet as tasting my woman's lips one more time, or hearing my kid laugh at my feet. The fucking assholes a couple feet away were taking it away, one second at a time. Thinking about our shit odds was like watching grains of sand running through a goddamned hour glass.

Can a man feel like a ghost before he's even dead?

I tried to think, straining my eyes, looking for any weakness. Asphalt, Brass, and even Stryker did the same. I didn't look too much at the last name – every time I did, it made me fucking sick.

I'd almost torched his skin off, for fuck's sake.

Maybe I deserved the dark, bloody end that was coming. Maybe today was the day karma would bitch slap me, force me to pay the brutal debts I'd stacked up over the years. Maybe my family could manage without me. I hoped to God they would.

Sally was strong. Caleb was bound to grow up a badass. This family had it in the blood.

No, I wasn't gonna see it – I wasn't gonna
fucking see it.

My heart froze over, and so did the hellfire in my blood, every time I took a good look at those rifles trained on us.

The last thing I'd ever do in front of my killers was weep like a little bitch, but it was raining black sleet in my soul. I watched the Prez puff, in between sneaking looks at the smug, almost bored looks on the Mexicans' faces.

When Blackjack's cig was down to a stump and Gold Teeth's back was turned, quietly talking to one of his men by the SUV in the center, Beam made his move. He came toward me again, wearing the smirk that made me want to knock his fucking teeth out.

“You're a dead man, you know.” He gave me a cold look and spat at the ground.

I didn't flinch. “Better dead than a fucking rat. The cartels have their codes too, as fucked up as they are. How long before these bastards decide to chop your head off too, Carlos?”

I used the name Gold Teeth yelled. He gave me a nasty look, and then his face twisted.

He laughed, higher pitched than I'd heard before, betraying his anxiety. My ears pricked up at another noise coming through his shit – something lower, roaring, droning.

I squinted, looking past him toward the very edges of the old complex. I saw the faintest puffs of dust behind the old fuel tanks. Bikes were on their way, coming up the route we always used to get back here, right through a break in the rusted gate.

Fuck. Just in time.

Beam stopped laughing and drew his wicked black eyes back on me. “You think you're hot shit, don't you? You walk around thinking you're a good man, a strong man, now that you've got your wife and kid. Let me tell you something, asshole.”

He pushed against my chest, as hard as he could. The lean little fuck was too weak to move me an inch, even with anger spiking his blood.

I cast a quick look at Blackjack. The Prez's face didn't show shit, but his eyes were fixed on the tiny smoke coiling in the distance too. He knew what was coming.

Beam kept talking, slinging the best shit talk he had. “You'll want to listen to this, fuckface. Listen good. I'm going to track down your hot blonde princess when we're through here. I'll find her, take her, and fuck her all I want. I'll take her in every hole, all fucking night, make her forget every last trace of you while she's howling on my cock. Then, when I've had my fill, I'll drive her well stretched ass to Mexico to be sold. She'll survive a year, maybe two in the game. But I'll give her a fighting chance, just for you, by fucking her 'til she hurts. I'll turn her into my whore, Roman. It's good practice once some of the cartel's friends get a hold of her.”

I snorted. “You done yet, Carlos?”

He shook his head. His jaw tightened, stretching his skin tight across his fucked up face. For a second, that shitty punk rock broomstick on his head looked like it was sitting on a skull.

“I'll do it all, you bastard. I swear I will. Every. Fucking. Word.” His head snapped back, and he flew forward, hurling spit in my face.

Slowly, I raised one hand, wiping my eye. “You're gonna have a hard time with my girl,” I said, sliding my other hand to my hip.

“Why's that, asshole?”

“She doesn't like dudes with ruptured balls and broken dicks.”

Two seconds. That was all I needed to make my move.

My knee shot up and smashed Beam's junk so hard I wasn't sure if he ever felt his nuts split like rotten eggs. My gun's barrel hit his temple too fast, and I pulled the trigger.

The Mexicans started screaming before he even hit the ground. I went down, holding onto his corpse like a shield, listening to my boys behind me start shooting.

My whole universe became screaming lead, kicking at the dusty pavement and flesh around me, each hot flash threatening to snuff out my life just as quickly as I'd done to the rat.

Brass roared, firing over my head. I angled my gun up as soon as I hit the ground, firing at every dark moving shape I could see. Several cartel boys ran forward, and their chests exploded outward, death blossoming in bloody vines.

Rabid and the prospects were here. The cavalry hit them from the back, slaughtering those motherfuckers like hogs.

Gold Teeth ducked between two vehicles, dropped his fancy looking magnum, clutching a bleeding wound on his leg. Bright red gore poured through his lily white trousers.

I emptied my clip and burst two more heads. It was too fucking dangerous to reload, especially with a bastard holding an automatic coming toward me, spraying down suppression fire.

The hellfire advanced, coming on like a line of advancing rain.

Inevitable. Outrageous. Fatal.

I thought about Sally's hot lips on mine as she was wrapped around me, thrusting like my life depended on it between her legs, snarling as I pushed her over the cliff into ecstasy.

I remembered Caleb's laugh, smiling as the bullets came closer, sparking on the cracked cement like firecrackers. It was like somebody slowed down time, just enough to let the things that mattered flash before my eyes.

I couldn't get my boy's cherub laugh outta my skull, even if it might as well have been on fucking Jupiter with death racing toward me here. I'd never hear it again. Not for real.

I thought about ma. She'd looked happier than she had for years holding my kid, bouncing him on one knee. Probably amazed that Sally and me created such a perfect miracle. She'd still have that after I was gone.

My brothers' faces flashed in my head, one by one, locked in perfect rhythm to the tracers coming toward me.

Blackjack. Brass. Rabid. Asphalt. Southpaw. Stryker.

So many fucking more. Too many faces, and not enough time. Never enough –

Fuck.
Fire ripped through my side, and I felt like a goddamned water balloon losing its contents.

Two seconds later, the shooting stopped, but it didn't really matter. I saw myself sprawled out on the ground, passed the fuck out, my eyes dead and vacant.

I floated away from everything, and there were no brakes. I was already a ghost, even as some brother caught up to me and started shaking me, screaming in my ear. His words were like listening to a man screaming down a long tunnel.

They blurred into nonsense. I heard someone else talking, a voice I hadn't heard for nearly twenty years. The last words my old man ever said to me surged in the blackness like a giant tidal wave, pulling me deeper, crashing across my soul.

Live the life I couldn't, son. Live like a good man 'til the day you die. Don't forsake your family.

I
'd never had so many emotions flickering through me at once, tearing me to pieces like twisted currents.