Outlaw Kind of Love

by Nicole Snow

  No good reason? Rachel's the best fucking reason for anything I've ever done on that bike.

  Fuck you, old man.

  I stopped just short of saying it to his face. Despite the bitter disappointment and exhaustion shining in his pale gray eyes, I loved him. What small shred of respect I had left saved me from saying the words that would guarantee he threw those old fists at my face.

  “I told you about the deals, the Snakes, all the bullshit I saw up north. Is there anything else you want to know or what?”

  Pop shook his head. Negative.

  “Then I'm out.”

  It was easier to talk about leaving that conversation behind than doing it. Almost as hard as forgetting Rachel, ignoring the soft sweet tang of her sugar I still tasted on my lips.

  I headed straight for the bar. I knocked back that whiskey I'd been missing earlier, enough to keep me drunk and blasted off my ass for the next twelve hours.

  “Hey, big guy. Watch what you're doing with my baby girl.”

  I looked up from staring at the bar's scratched up countertop. Frannie slid into a seat next to me.

  “I made it up to her. Told you she wasn't one to hold grudges,” I said, reaching for the half depleted Jack bottle next to me. “Fill you up?”

  Frannie nodded. I filled her glass to the brim and she kicked it down in one gulp. She clinked it on the counter and smiled sweetly, not even batting an eye.

  That old lady could take booze better than most of my brothers.

  “I'm warning you nicely, young Shields. I can't stand to see her hurt again after all she's been through. I'm an old lady. It's not my place to keep tabs on who you're fucking or throwing aside.” She paused, sliding a little closer to me. “But if you're gonna fuck her, then it better lead to something.”

  “That's good advice.”

  It was. I wouldn't let on more than that, not to Frannie's face, and she expected as much.

  “Hey!” I yelled and swatted after her as she ripped the bottle up into her arms.

  “My old man needs to unwind after all this excitement tonight. Lord knows I do too.”

  She shot me a wicked grin over the shoulder, slowly making the way back to the club room she shared with Warlock.

  I drank alone. A bunch of guys and their girlfriends were slumped in their chairs, deep in a drunken sleep.

  I stepped over the two Prospects on the way to my room. Both of them were laid out flat on the dirty floor.

  Had a feeling Freak and Tank were going to go far in the years to come. That is, if they put as much effort into their work as they did their partying.

  I crashed in bed. After so much riding and tension this evening, my bones were like brittle wood. The whisky nipped at the edges of my brain, blunting the urge to fuck each time it surfaced.

  Exactly how I wanted it. Resisting the urge to do something stupid like stagger into the Purple Room for a quick lay was a lot easier with a bad case of whiskey dick.

  Good. Keeping numb for a little longer will keep me smart and pure for her.

  Yeah, Frannie, I'll take your advice. Just wish I could tell you how bad I don't need to hear it.

  The thought of anyone hurting that baby girl I wanted to stake a claim to filled me with a blinding rage. My eyes rolled red and black, straight through hate and love, gateways to the dark peace in deeper sleep.

  Hold on, Rachel, I thought to myself, just before losing control. Just a little bit longer. And then I'm coming for you, and you're never gonna have to worry about being lonely or unprotected ever again.

  “Throttle! Wake up, VP. We gotta fuck of a situation out here!”

  What the fuck? Who was banging on my door this early in the morning?

  Wasn't even noon yet. I jumped up, spitting a few choice curses when I felt the hangover pounding in my skull.

  This better be abso-fucking-lutely important.

  I almost tore the door off its hinges. Bolt was in front of me, his lips quirked at their sides in amusement.

  “What?” I roared.

  “It's that jackass Mayor. He's showed up here with a couple jackboots. Says he wants what's his.”

  That got me up. I shook off the hangover, suddenly light as a feather, stomping like a bull out of my room without even closing the door.

  “Hey! Throttle!” Bolt yelled after me, racing to catch up as fast his lean legs would carry him.

  “Where is he?”

  “Out front. Main entrance by the garage. Figured you'd want to meet him where he can't add to the mess in here if things go sideways. Warlock's already out there with the asshole...”

  I wasn't listening anymore. That horrible rage I had over anyone hurting Rachel before I drifted off last night?

  Yeah, it was back, foaming up my body like lightning of an angry god.

  I punched open the front door and ran down the steps. Mayor Fuck-face was waiting for me, looking all prim and proper in his dry cleaned suit and neat red tie.

  Christ, how did such an ugly cocksucker create such a beautiful daughter? Rach must get everything from her mother.

  Two guys in clean white uniforms were at his sides, standing like bulldogs. I recognized the stupid knock off patches fixed to their chests.

  Hired mercenaries. Not real cops. Good, that should be less shit for the club if we ended up having to show the mercs who's boss.

  “Mister Shields.” Hargrove nodded at me, folding his hands behind his back. “I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

  I was about five feet away, and closing. Bolt stopped there next to Warlock, but I kept coming, and I had no intention of stopping either.

  The Mayor jerked back just before I could ram my chest into his face. The two mercs threw their hands out, blocking my sorely needed progress.

  “You better hope you don't say Rachel. If I hear you say her name, then I won't be able to stop what comes next. You've been warned...asshole.”

  Shit, it felt amazing to call him that to his face.

  “Fine, be that way,” he said, nervousness ringing in his voice. “Truth is, you have my daughter. I trust you've kept her well, but she can't stay. She doesn't belong here.”

  “She sure as fuck doesn't belong with you!” I jerked against the burly arms between me and the Mayor.

  The bodyguards pushed back. In a flash, Bolt and Warlock were at my sides, ready to flatten them if they were stupid enough to throw the first punch.

  “You're wrong, Mister Shields. She belongs with her loving father. Yes, Rachel and I have had our little disagreements, but she's still my daughter. You have five minutes to bring her out here, or I'll have my associates call the authorities. Obviously, she's not a minor, but I think any man with a badge will be sympathetic to a girl from a wonderful family who's been drugged and carried off by Cassandra's chief crime syndicate.”

  The venom in that prick's words...it cut deep and instantly set the wounds in my brain on fire. The fire in my fists and knees burned so bad I couldn't think straight anymore.

  I started laughing. That got a quick look between Hargrove and his guards.

  “I get it now,” I said, shaking off a few last chuckles. “You brought these assholes to do the dirty work. Can't have Rach talking to the police herself now, right? Or else she might say something that could skull fuck your political career. You've been Mayor for – what? – a couple solid months now? That's a long time to hold office and still have Sheriff Bills looking at you like you just got barfed out of the sewer.”

  “I don't see anyone moving to get my daughter,” he said coldly.

  “How about now?”

  I charged forward, busting right through the guards' linked arms. They threw themselves on top of me.

  I was laughing as their weight vanished a second later, yanked away by my brothers. Warlock and Bolt let their fists fly. I listened to them exchanging fists with the mercs.

  Hargove stood like a living cartoon with an oh shit plastered on his face. He turned and tried to run, but I
was too fast.

  I slammed him to the pavement, rolled him over, and pushed his flabby arms away as he tried to cover his nasty face. The heavy stones attached to my arms started to avalanche down.

  I savored every fucking punch. My knuckles were hot and red within seconds, and still hungry for blood.

  “No, no, no, no!” Every protest from his mouth got louder with each blow.

  Soon, Hargrove was gurgling his words through blood. I knew I'd busted his lip and probably several teeth too.

  He jerked beneath me, weak and helpless as a washed up fish. If it hadn't been for the Prospects, I would've split his skull clean open.

  “What the fuck!” I screamed, as soon as I realized my fists weren't connecting with his face anymore.

  “Pull him back!” Pop howled behind me. “Come on! We can't kill this bitch, much as I'd like to.”

  “Easy, easy, man. We're just trying to help, VP.”

  No, you guys are just following orders. Only kinda help I need is for you morons to hold him down while I finish making our Mayor into a raspberry smoothie.

  Freak was pretty skinny. I could've shaken him off me if he were by himself, but Tank was on the other side. I was strong, but not as big and strong as our new bodybuilder-turned-Prospect.

  “This is on you, Pop.” I stopped thrashing. “I knew you wouldn't let me end this here. Too easy for you, old man.”

  “Your brain's in your ass, son.” Pop didn't take his eyes off me as he lowered his face, moving his mouth near my ear. “What the hell do you think would happen if I let you murder the Mayor of our town at the clubhouse? Hm? You think you've got all the answers, Jack, but you don't know shit.”

  I jerked once, fighting my own brothers to get on my feet. I couldn't. Tank roared, struggling with Freak to keep me down.

  “Can everybody walk?” Pop was talking to Warlock and Bolt now.

  I lifted my head, grinding my teeth as I watched them reluctantly help up the bodyguards they'd just knocked flat.

  Hargrove's boys were both limping. Mayor Fuck-face stayed down, and that brought a juicy smile to my lips.

  Pissed me off that he was still breathing. But at least I'd done a real number on him.

  “Get up. I know you can hear me,” Warlock said. “We'll help you to your car, and then you're getting off our property. Don't be a dumb fuck, Mayor. You know what to do. Stay away from this club and don't ask about your daughter ever again. Understood?”

  The Mayor groaned unintelligibly. Warlock and Bolt leaned down, picked him up, and slid him into the arms of the scratched up bodyguards.

  All three men seemed to lean on one another for mutual support. Nobody looked worse than Hargrove with his hair messed up and blood smearing his face. A few fresh trickles had spotted the neat white shirt beneath the jacket, making it look like the tie in the middle was bleeding.

  That's right, you fucking demon. Take a good look at me. Look at the man who's gonna finish the job he started if you ever show your ass around here again.

  “Get them out of here and lock the place up,” Pop said with disgust.

  Warlock and Bolt trailed the intruders to the open gate, ready to slam it shut.

  “Wait! Don't go yet!”

  The high feminine voice broke the eerie silence. Everybody looked up in shock as Rachel appeared, watching us like a phantom on the ledge outside the door. She was wearing some long white skirt Frannie had found for her.

  She sailed down the stairs. I watched her walk right past me, and that set me struggling against the Prospects again.

  “Easy, VP. The girl's gotta do whatever she's gotta do.” Freak tried to be soothing. He just ended up pissing me off.

  Don't do it. Don't go up to your lunatic old man, baby girl.

  The trio of Hargrove and his bodyguards stopped when they saw her. Warlock and Bolt stared at each other on both sides of the fence.

  Everybody wondered what the hell was going down.

  For a split second, I was horrified I'd have to break out and let myself get broken trying to reach her. Or, worse, let her do something stupid like follow that asshole to his Mercedes and climb in the backseat.

  “Rachel? Come with me.” Hargrove blubbered, slurring his words. “Let me take you away from these animals...”

  Nobody – and I mean nobody – expected her to fling spit right in his face. But that's exactly what my brave girl did, spraying him right in his fucking bloodied face with a big string of wet saliva.

  Half my brothers roared. The rest laughed.

  She ran back to safety, back to us, before the asshole could even think about ordering his goons to do anything.

  The guards had to drag him across the boundary separating the clubhouse from the public sidewalk. Then my brothers wheeled the gate shut, a hell of a lot faster than the automatic closing mechanism could.

  “You vermin just made a big mistake. Big, big mistake! Do you fucking hear me?” The Mayor shouted, flinging his body against the fence like a loose puppet, before his guards pushed him into the back of the car.

  The Mercedes sped off. A very shocked Rach returned to my side, her eyes shining.

  “Come on. He's gone, guys, let me up.”

  Pop nodded. Tank and Freak peeled away and I hopped up on my feet.

  “It's gonna be okay, Rachel. I don't give a shit what he says. He's never setting foot on this property again if he wants to keep breathing.”

  She threw herself into my chest. I held her tight.

  Even with all the brothers watching and my own father, I didn't flinch. With her there, so close and so sweet, my world began at her soft hair and ended where her skirt flowed out at her knees.

  Nothing else mattered. Nobody else did either.

  “You really upset him. You know that, Rach?”

  “Yeah. I've never heard him swear like that in my whole life,” she said softly. “I just hope my spit burns those cuts you left on his face. I've seen him, and one last time is more than enough.”

  We were all gathered around the table. Some of us were staring at Pop, and the rest were looking past the club President to the big black and white Prairie Devils banner hanging on the wall behind him.

  The rough looking devil's face was neatly flanked by pitchforks on both sides. The old flag had hung in this room since I was a kid, something the boys threw up shortly after Pop and the original guys founded this MC.

  “Hell of a way to start the morning, ain't it?” Jonesy gazed up and down the table at us, newly healed and back in action after his tango with the Skulls.

  “Yeah, it is,” Pop said quietly.

  His eyes weren't on Jonesy, though.

  Here it comes, I thought. Asshole's gonna call a vote to have me struck down as VP. That evil eye he's giving me can't mean anything else.

  “This shit's gone too far. Way over the line. If we're gonna do this thing, then we need to make some serious fucking changes around here to whip us into fighting shape. That's your job, Jack.” Pop raised one hand and pointed.

  “What?” Color me genuinely surprised. I didn't know what the hell he was getting at.

  “Get this club ready for war. Scorched earth. Nobody – and I mean nobody – comes crashing into my club with a list of demands out the wazoo. I'll wring Hargrove's fucking neck myself.”

  I smiled. That's the good old Pop I remembered, the one I thought had been buried.

  Prideful, vengeful, and ready for blood if anybody threatened what was his. Despite all his faults, he was on my side this time, and I was gonna take whatever bone Lady Luck had thrown me and run with it.

  “You want us to go after him?” Warlock looked just as shocked as I did.

  “Does this place still smell like beer, barbecue, and pussy?” Pop said rhetorically. “We're gonna do it, but we're gonna do it smart. We need to find out what the Raging Skulls had on him to turn him into their bitch. Whatever skeletons there are in his closet, they're big enough to bury him.”

  I nodded. It was wei
rd to find myself a hundred percent in agreement with Pop. It was the kind of weird I liked.

  “Somebody did some research. Looked into his past. We need a guy to go after the right records, just like the Skulls, and hit that fucker in the face with his own dirty underwear.” Bolt's eyes were bright with excitement, the wheels in his head doing overtime.

  “Congratulations,” I said. “Sounds like you just volunteered for book duty.”

  “Listen to the VP,” Pop said. “Maybe the girl can tell us something that'll point us in the right direction. In the meantime, we need to get our defenses up and do patrols.”

  Everybody groaned. When the club went on red alert, groups of three or four were circling the immediate neighborhood all the time, an advanced scouting party looking for any trouble around the clubhouse's perimeter.

  “Stop your bellyaching! There'll be plenty of time for whiskey and getting your dicks wet when this shit's behind us. There always is.” Pop looked over, waiting for me to add to his wisdom.

  “What about Rachel? We gotta keep her here for protection, but she can't stay in limbo forever. We need to make her an official part of this club.”

  Pop's jaw tightened. I saw the reluctance rising in his face. Maybe I'd just pressed my advantage too far, taking advantage of the opening with him.

  I didn't care. I had to try, for her sake.

  “Has the girl got any brains?”

  I folded my arms, trying to hide my irritation. “Of course she does. She can learn anything we throw at her. Why, what the hell are you thinking?”

  “Frannie needs to train her in on some basic first aide, and then the more advanced shit. Who knows what the Skulls and hired mercs have in store for us as soon as Hargrove gets his pecker back up. That fucker's gonna come here with a wrecking crew, and an extra set of hands to patch people up won't hurt.”

  The rest of the men glanced at each other coldly. They knew the stakes were high, just like I did, and it was all too easy to end up with a lot more than scrapes and scratches.

  “I'll tell Frannie to train her in,” I said. No hesitation.

  Keeping Rachel here and valuable to the MC would keep her safe. The club wasn't intended to babysit or shelter for too long, but she'd have a proper home if she was working for the org, same as the rest of us.