Outlaw Kind of Love

by Nicole Snow

Venom faced the cowardly duo. Dragging me forward, he replaced the other man's boot on Voodoo's back. He'd stolen my oxygen for too long, and my vision was starting to go blurry.

  “There's only room for one little prize on our bikes. I'm gonna let you bitches choose which one I take. Who's it going to be? Your old man here,” he paused, jabbing his heel into Venom's spine. “Or this nasty little cunt?”

  Stars danced around Rita and Michelle. I needed oxygen. I wondered if I was hallucinating as I saw them look at each other, and then smile slowly.

  “Take him,” Rita said with a smile. “We know this old dog's more valuable to you anyway. Leave the bitch here. Jack'll never forgive her.”

  Jesus, no. You can't do this, you lunatics! Jack will kill you.

  Venom stared at me sourly, and then threw me down. There was a violent tearing sensation in one ankle, the world spun, and then my head collided with something very hard.

  Blackness.

  “Wake up, baby girl. Rachel! Do you know who I am?”

  My head throbbed the instant I opened my eyes. Overhead, the brightest lamp I'd ever seen scorched down, hot and painful as a sunny day in the Badlands.

  “Pupils are responding normally...pulse is good...I think she's gonna be alright.”

  I recognized the comforting sound of Frannie's voice. She laid one hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

  “Jack?” I breathed.

  My eyes went wide. I sat up – too soon – and the blinding pain was back.

  “Holy shit, take it easy, baby. Doctor's orders.” Jack looked at the club's matriarch. “You're gonna be fine. We're both gonna take the very best care of you...and then I'm gonna murder every last one of those assholes who did this. Nobody knocks out my girl and kidnaps my old man. Nobody.”

  Frannie's face tensed. What little color I still had must've gone straight out of me.

  They'd really done it. It wasn't just a nightmare.

  Shit, shit! I wanted to tell him all about the struggle in the whore's room, the way that one bitch had stood up and turned over their President.

  But if she hadn't, I'd be waking up somewhere a hell of a lot worse than Frannie's infirmary. Had that monster with the oversized nails and sour grape gum done me a favor?

  “What happened?” I mumbled.

  “It was a ruse. Fuckers had one guy come by our fallback point and take potshots at Jonesy's fence. One of our paid dudes in the Cassandra PD said there were a lot more coming. We hauled ass over there. Dug in, waited, and found nothing. That cop fucking lied. And then Bolt called and we found out about the real attack here...” Jack reached for his face and ran one hand over it, stretching his perfect skin. “Damn it, I'm so sorry, baby. I fucked up.”

  “It's okay,” I assured him. Everything was light, and it felt like the pain and drugs were carrying me away.

  “Lay your head back down, girl,” Frannie cut in. “Relax. I'm going to give you these to help you sleep.”

  I mumbled something crazy and incoherent. Frannie placed the big pills onto my tongue and tipped a cup up to my lips.

  I drank deep and swallowed. Jack never left my side, holding one hand. His smile was big and filled with love, even through the darkness recent events had left on his face.

  “Sweet dreams, baby girl. I'm not going anywhere until I need to. I'll be here right when you wake up. I promise.”

  Blackness. Again.

  When I opened my eyes, the fiery drumbeat in my head had settled to a dull ache. I sat up more easily, without feeling like I wanted to gouge my own eyes out.

  Jack was as good as his word.

  His warm hand was on mine, pulled a couple inches over into the chair where he sat dozing. I noticed the bruise beginning around his right eye.

  He'd taken a beating, just like everybody else in that battle.

  Jesus, how many weren't even breathing anymore? The thought of any brothers being dead brought a terrible lump to the middle of my throat. I swallowed the bitter sadness, refusing to wake him up.

  About a minute later, Bolt staggered in, dragging one leg behind him. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

  At least that's one more familiar face above ground.

  “Aw, shit. I didn't know I'd be interrupting...”

  Jack stirred at the sound of Bolt's voice. He looked at me, nodded gently, and then turned to his club brother.

  “What's up?”

  “Got ourselves an update from Creeper's search party. Him and the Dickinson boys found something.”

  Jack stiffened. He slid the chair away and let my hand drop. I slowly brought it back to my lap.

  “What?”

  Bolt looked past him, as if he didn't want to say. My heart began to pound, sending blood I really didn't need into my head. The pain intensified and redness flashed across my vision.

  “You'd better come and see it, Throttle.” Bolt paused and swallowed loudly. “I'll lead the way.”

  Bolt turned and headed out of the infirmary without stopping. Jack whipped around, facing me, his face wrinkled with confusion and something else.

  Is that fear?

  Seeing my rugged lover scared for the first time was like a punch to the gut.

  “You wait here and go back to sleep, Rach. I'll send Frannie in to take another look at you.” He turned to go.

  “Wait!” I screamed, forcing my legs over the table. “I need her now. I want to come with you.”

  “What? You can't go anywhere!” His whole face darkened.

  “I will. Whatever's out there...I want to be with you. I know I'm a not even an old lady yet,” I paused, praying I would be one day soon. “But all this shit that went down affects me to. The things that scumbag VP said to me, the way he threatened us...you don't even know.”

  Jack studied me. It wasn't an outright no, and that brought a tiny prickle of satisfaction to my painful brain.

  “We'll just see what Frannie says.” He sighed. “Don't know why the hell I'm even considering this. This is club business...”

  “Because you need me,” I offered, moving closer to him. “You know I'm the one person you can count on right now. I won't meltdown or stab you in the back.”

  “Yeah, baby girl.” He hugged me and planted a quick kiss on my lips. “Just wondering if you know a little too much, too soon. I'll go see about Frannie.”

  I don't think I ever hugged Jack tighter on the ride outside Cassandra's borders.

  A short check up later, and Frannie cleared me to ride with him, to be his support like no one else could. I sensed the fear flowing through him, thickening the entire atmosphere in the broken club with somber tension.

  It was an unusually cool summer morning. Peaceful, almost, like the strange calm and dewy softness following a violent storm.

  “Right over here,” Bolt said over the radio, motioning ahead of us.

  A whole crew of the guys from Dickson were parked along the road. I'd seen these guys loitering around the clubhouse before, but this was different.

  Instead of chattering, cracking loud jokes, or smoking like normal, nobody was moving. They just stood there like sentinels, solemn faced and huddled against their bikes, staring off across the open prairie, toward the distant hills.

  Jack threw himself off the bike and helped me down. I took his hand, squeezing tightly as he walked toward the spot near a ditch where Bolt was standing.

  “Show me,” Jack ordered.

  “Wish I didn't have to, brother. Here he is.”

  He? Oh, God...

  Jack ripped away his hand from mine and started running when the pale, battered shape came into view. His loud, anguished screams exploded in my ears even before I caught up to him.

  Voodoo's body was in the ditch, bloody and mutilated. I could only take one shaky look before I had to tear myself away. The savage pain in my head had returned, so fierce I feared I'd pass out.

  I saw enough. Jack's father, the former Devil's President, had gaping holes all over.

  They'd torn the
patches out of his old leather cut and thrown them across his chest, defiling his colors. All his senses were gone too, demolished from his flesh.

  Voodoo's eyes, ears, nose, and lips were all missing.

  That rock I was supposed to be? Yeah...

  I fell to my knees alongside Jack, sending my terrible screams after his, high into the heavens.

  VIII: Crystal Clear (Jack)

  Pop deserved better. Better than the closed casket funeral we gave him with reps from all six charters in the five state area.

  I could hardly believe it when he was hauled to the cemetery in our motorcade and laid into the ground. I never loved my brothers more than when they smacked me on the back, a welcome pain to blunt the tears that came whenever I cracked.

  At the big party we threw after – standard MC tradition for a fallen brother – I drank myself into a stupor. Tore the bottle of Jack from Warlock's hands, even when he didn't want to give it to me.

  The old man and I had our disagreements. He'd gotten blunt, gray, and way too self-serving with age.

  But he was my father, damn it, and I never expected to take the reigns of the Prairie Devils like this.

  I killed him. Yeah, those fucking Skulls were the ones who took him prisoner and did the dirty deed, but it was my sloppy head-over-heels folly that led us into their trap.

  Made me sick just thinking about it.

  Then there was Rach. She'd been an angel through the week-long clean up at the clubhouse after Pop's send off. Shame I had to keep my distance.

  My head was fucked. Every time I looked at her, I just saw my own failure. She was the last person I loved and trusted who saw him alive, and I still hadn't worked up the balls to ask her what the fuck had happened.

  “Are you sure you're up for this, Jack?” Warlock sat at the side of the table, now the oldest active member of this club. “We don't need to do it today if you're not ready.”

  “I'm ready,” I said coldly. “Let's vote.”

  All eight old surviving members were there, including me, plus two new brothers who'd just earned their patches. Our prospects survived the clash with the Skulls. Tank and Freak had more than earned that CASSANDRA bottom rocker on their cuts below the Devils' face, and the pitchforks on their skin.

  I looked at them all. These men were my family now. everybody in Cassandra plus our extended cousins in other charters, now that my last blood link in the world was gone.

  One by one, they were behind me, about to make it more official than ever.

  Warlock, Bolt, Jonesy, Tank, and Freak. Magus, Shady, Creeper, and Pounce.

  Brothers. Family. My blood, even if they didn't share my DNA.

  “Everybody in favor of me, Jack Shields, assuming leadership of this club, say 'aye.'”

  I watched the chain start at Warlock. Everybody spoke swift and firm, without hesitation, making the whole vote one of the quickest we'd ever taken.

  “Anybody opposed, let's hear the 'nays,'” I said.

  Silence.

  “Congratulations, brother!” Warlock leaned over and gave me a tight hug, pounding me on the back. “You'll make your old man proud. I know you will.”

  The other guys made fists and pounded the table. When the clatter stopped, I picked up the gavel, slamming it to the wood for order.

  The little mallet still felt odd in my hands, ever since I'd begun using it as acting President. But it was more familiar by the day, and now I'd earned it legitimately.

  “What's your first order, Prez?” Creeper grinned. He looked menacing and ridiculous at the same time wearing those oversized shades.

  “Everybody at this table is smart enough to know. We're gonna give it back to the Raging Skulls as good as they gave it to us. Let's cleanse this town and all the Dakotas. I'm in the mood for a trip to Sioux Falls. How about the rest of you boys?”

  Half my brothers showed their wicked smiles. The rest just gave ice cold nods.

  “Then it's settled.” I slammed the gavel for emphasis. “Warlock, as the new VP, I want you to make sure we're perfectly coordinated with the Dickinson boys. We were good together when the Skulls attacked this clubhouse, but it wasn't perfect. We need to be fluid.”

  “Will do.”

  “Bolt, you're Sergeant at Arms now. You need to oversee the armory, and bring everything back here from that stupid fallback point. That fucking thing cost us dearly. I'm done playing defense. From now on, we're going after our enemies. Not waiting for them.”

  Just like I always wanted. Sorry, Pop. It's not your strategy, but we're gonna use it to kick some ass and avenge your death.

  My new Sergeant nodded. He'd be good in real fights, but I needed to make sure he was good handling other elements of defense too.

  “Before you do that, there's something else. You're the cleanest looking guy here,” I said. He blinked in surprise. “You need to find out where we got that tip about the Skulls attacking Jonesy's place. I have my suspicions. I know our guy in the police wouldn't have turned on us.”

  “Mayor's office,” Jonesy said. “Why do we need to waste our time gathering up evidence?”

  “Because it's the right thing to do. There's no more room for mistakes here, brothers. We got fucked up once before on faulty information and little slip ups. Those days are over.”

  Jonesy shrugged, but he didn't dare challenge me. He was shitting bricks when we pulled up to his house, expecting an attack anytime.

  We thought we were smart, that we were setting a trap for those bastards thanks to the tip that came in over the radio. We were absolutely fucking wrong, and I should've seen it coming.

  If I hadn't been too distracted getting my dick wet, maybe I would've. Pop might still be alive, sitting at the head of the table and wielding the gavel. Not me.

  “Look, I already know Mayor Fuck-face had something to do with this. Probably had his mercs feeding info to the Skulls the whole time and sewing chaos. We just need to make it solid so we're not caught with our pants down again. Everybody good with that?”

  I looked up and down the table. Nobody protested. Almost everybody genuinely supported me, and the ones who weren't fully behind me were feeling out the new regime. Now wasn't the time to blink.

  “Good. Then let's get our house in order and finish what we started. We've got a lot of fucking work to do.”

  “My room. Now.” The orders I barked echoed in the small infirmary.

  Rachel looked up from cleaning. Frannie gave me the evil eye, but nodded her approval at the girl.

  Nobody was going to challenge me at this point. Even if I was somewhere between rough around the edges to out-of-fucking-control.

  She threw her cloth down on the table and followed me.

  “What is it, Jack?” She asked, her eyes big and wide, as soon as I closed the door.

  “Sit down on the bed. I need you to tell me exactly what happened that night with Pop. I have a feeling those whores were involved, and I don't want you to protect them. If there's a snake among us, I need to know about it so I can kick their ass out of this club.”

  She clasped her hands tight on her lap. Rachel looked up, sickly and sad. She hadn't gotten any less beautiful to me, but that face brought pain. Confusion.

  Fuck. I don't know what the hell I'm doing here, what I want to do with her.

  My cock knew. The beast inside me wanted to throw her down on that bed, rip apart her clothes, and fuck her until everything was good and wholesome again.

  But she remained my baby girl. I couldn't do her just to get off like one of the club whores.

  “All hell broke lose,” she whispered. “I came out of my room, thought it was the club pulling their bikes into the garages. I froze up when I heard all the commotion. Your dad busted out of the meeting room with his gun drawn...”

  “Go on. Tell me the rest.”

  “It was that whore, Rita, who pulled me in their room. I thought they were doing me a favor, trying to get me out of harm's way.” Rach's beautiful face wrinkled.
“The bitch said she wanted to use me as a bargaining chip. Then the fight spread and Voodoo came in. He tried to hold the Skulls off, and none of those sluts would help him.”

  I took a deep breath and held it. It was like a stick of dynamite had been loaded in my gut. And the fuse was getting shorter with every fucking word coming out of her pretty mouth.

  “I think you know the rest.” She swallowed, softening her throat so she wouldn't crack up. “I recognized the Skulls VP, Venom. He was with a few other guys...they held Voodoo down and threatened me. Said they were here to collect a trophy.”

  She stopped. Damn it, my patience was wearing thin.

  “Come on, Rachel. Get to the point. What the fuck did they do?”

  She blinked hard. My harsh words were hurting her, and I knew it, but I was like a runaway train at this point.

  I had to know what happened to Pop, the naked truth.

  “The bitches picked him because they knew you'd be torn up. Rita – God! – she said you'd never forgive me as she pointed at him, hurting on the ground. That slut told them to take him...”

  She started blubbering. I managed to throw a lid on the fire screaming inside me. I sank onto the bed next to her and yanked her close, holding her against my chest as she let loose the tears.

  “You did nothing wrong. I'm the one who fucked up. I wasn't paying attention before the attack. We all paid for that.”

  The more I thought about the whores betrayal, the angrier I got. I sat as long as I could, suppressing the killer instinct that would make Rach cringe. But I couldn't hold it in forever.

  As soon as she stopped shaking and her sobs grew quieter, I was up and heading for the door.

  “Jack!” She yelled after me. “Where are you going?”

  “Purple room,” I growled back at her. “Those bitches are fucking done.”

  She ran after me and started tugging on my shoulder as I planted my boot on their door. It was mid-morning and the place was locked.

  From late morning through early afternoon, they were alone in there, napping and getting all prettied up to service the boys for another night.