by Nicole Snow
Why it happened, well, that wasn't a mystery. When a girl grows up dirt poor with nobody except her brother to look up to, she jumps the first time somebody offers her several million and a chance to blow up big.
Gullible? Oh yeah, and now I'd pay the price in blood and heartbreak.
“I'll do what I can.” The defeated tone in my voice sounded obvious, even to me.
“Fuck yeah, you will,” he growled, stuffing another pomegranate seed into his mouth. “Because you remember what happens if you don't? If you start to panic, take off, think you can cheat us out of our own money?”
“Yeah, Dom, I remember...I don't need another reminder.”
I can't fucking handle another one, you sick bastard, I thought to myself. Please, no reminder.
“Really, peach? Because your eyes are telling me maybe you do. Here, let me give you one.” Growling, he slammed his knife straight into his open fruit and cut straight down it, spilling red, slippery seeds everywhere. “You fuck up, you die. That simple. But first, before we bury you alive chained up in a drum, we get every goddamned dime we're owed in flesh and blood. We'll keep you chained up and use that rockin' pussy of yours every damned day we want. Hunt down every friend and kin you've ever had. No, that damned biker patch on your brother won't save him. We'll bring you his fucking face skinned off his body and throw it in yours. I hear his new wife's knocked up, about to squeeze out a kid. Maybe we bring your little niece to say hello to auntie, one piece at a time...”
Rage, hurt, and fear churned in my intestines. How he kept such close tabs on me, I had no idea, and I was too sick to care.
My ears stopped working at some point while he droned on about the sadistic things he'd do to me. I couldn't mentally handle the list of atrocities he ran off, and so I shut down, his threats fading into my heartbeat's savage roar.
He was talking about killing Huck, my brother, and his family. The only thing I held onto after we both escaped that shitty trailer we'd grown up in. The only one who'd ever cared, who had more to live for than me.
Then he talked about sex, violating me in ways I didn't dare imagine. It shouldn't have been as revolting as the death threats, but it was, because I was still a virgin.
“And when we're all through with that, peachy pie, we'll make sure nobody ever finds your fuckin' body outside the fishes. It's a big ocean. You see that shit out there?”
I refused to follow his knife, pointed over the top of the car. He motioned out to sea, past all the cranes from the loading docks, where the depths were deep, dark, choppy.
“Damn it, bitch, I said look. Tony!”
Grabbing my head, his goon twisted it around, forcing me to see where I'd wind up – probably in pieces – if I didn't obey his every whim.
“We've dumped a lot of people out there, Hannah. Made more bastards and bitches disappear in so many underwater trenches it'd make Davy fuckin' Jones himself jealous. This isn't just a debt,” he growled, his ice cold face coming closer and closer to mine.
Tony's grip on me tightened. I couldn't move. My blood was officially iced over. A single livid tear slid down my cheek, tracing a fiery trail across my skin.
“None of this has to happen, Hannah. You do what you're told, pay us back with interest, we won't have any problems like figuring out how many fucks it takes to get bored before giving you to hell,” he said, extending a finger.
Everything inside me recoiled when he touched me, catching my tear on his fingertip. He brought it back to his lips with a growl, opening those dry lips just enough so he could suck my pain off his finger.
“Let her go, boys. We're done here.” He stood, slamming the heel of his perfectly polished shoe on what's left of the pomegranate. “Until next time, my Georgia Peach.”
Yeah, next time. I tried to stop shaking while I watched them walk slowly to their car, get in, and drive off like ordinary businessmen.
I never dared to correct them about my birthplace, Tennessee, born and raised. They knew everything else about me, and the one simple fact they'd gotten wrong wouldn't change anything.
Clenching the manila envelope, I stuffed it into my purse, and started walking briskly away from the docks, into the city.
I'd been planning to have dinner with Ty and his family tomorrow, my old billionaire boss from several years ago, but now it wasn't even a possibility. I had to find an excuse to blow him off, anything to avoid breaking down about my plight in front of the man who'd been a mentor to me.
After that, I had to catch the first flight the hell out of here.
As soon as I checked out of my room, I called my brother, asking if he had any contacts in Atlanta so I wouldn't have to rent a car for the drive home to Knoxville.
Fierce storms tore up the Tennessee skies yesterday, and more were coming tonight. I didn't want to take a chance on my connecting flight getting delayed. I had to get home.
First opportunity, I'd be getting hammered to forget Dom and the mammoth amount of life-or-death coding work he'd dropped in my lap. Too bad a girl can't drink and drive several hundred miles.
“You're coming back already? What the fuck happened?” Firefly growled into the receiver.
“Nothing, nothing! Ty has kids, and our meeting got cut short. You're about to find out what that's all about.” I smiled, trying to focus on knowing I'd be an aunt soon, once Cora's baby came. “I'm flying into Atlanta tonight. I don't want to deal with the drive in the dark, so I'm wondering if there are any club assets in Georgia?”
“Not many since shit went down there last time. Just Dust.”
Dust. My heart nearly exploded behind my ribs.
Dust, with his strong, quiet, teasing ways.
Dust, with his hands and mouth that set me on fire. I always had a strange fascination with scary body art thanks to Firefly, and the tapestry painted on Dusty's skin made my brother's look like a child's painting.
Dusty, the man I never should've kissed, much less thrown another hook to, who'd known me when I was just Firefly's scrawny little sis. Now, he treated me like a woman, and I ate it up.
Beautiful, dangerous, bossy Dusty.
“You're sure there aren't any prospects?” I asked softly. About a hundred butterflies took flight in my belly, imaging all the things that could happen if I took a ride home with Dust tonight. Alone.
“No. Prez is the only option, take him or leave him. I can't come down and get you with everything going on up here, unless you're in a bind.”
“Nah, it's fine. Thanks, Huck. I'll see you soon for the baby shower.”
Perfect timing. The agent at the gate to my flight announced the start of boarding, and I had about five more minutes to decide if I wanted to give Dust a call before I got on.
I wanted my ride. Hell, maybe part of me wanted to ride him, but I'd never live it down if I did.
And if I broke down in front of him, remembering my mess with Dom, the double life I'd been leading for the past year as a hostage to the animal I should've been smart enough to avoid...
The club would have open war.
God, I wanted to see him again. Forgetting the mobster's blood chilling threats sounded pretty good just then, too. I needed a distraction.
If there was any man who could make me forget my secret woes, it was the big, gorgeous bastard whose number was staring me in the face on my contacts.
“Attention, attention, attention! We're now boarding rows 17-D,” the agent blared into the microphone.
Decision time. I clenched my teeth, letting out the biggest sigh in the world when I pressed the call button, and watched with my stomach twisted in a knot, while my phone connected to Dust.
4
Past and Present (Dust)
Several Minutes Earlier
I sat on my bike, watching the sun slip down across the horizon. Several thousand men were buried here beneath the tombstones, long lost boys who'd died in every damned war this country ever had since 1830.
Conflict ran deep in my veins on both sid
es. My great great granddaddy fought for Dixie in a cavalry regiment on my old man's side. Ma's side had my great great uncle, an artillery Major for the North, who'd crawled through hell when East Tennessee became ground zero for all the blood soaked brother-on-brother savagery defining the war.
History buff? Maybe I was, but I'd punch anybody in the face if they ever called me a nerd.
I thought about my family a lot, bloodlines steeped in the country's wickedest turmoil, trickling down across generations. The Deadly Pistols name wouldn't exist for this club if it wasn't for my old man's gun, passed down to me since it did its time killing men on these battlefields more than a hundred and fifty years ago.
The gun was locked up at the clubhouse, stuffed in a wooden box I rarely opened for anybody. Seeing her, touching her, that was just for me.
Every brother wore her symbols all over, inked deep in our skin. I had a whole arsenal scrawled across my back, my chest, smoke curling out of the steel barrels on my arms. Saw them every morning I woke up, every time I shed my clothes, every time I got between some girl's legs and fucked her 'til she screamed my name.
Deadly Pistols Motorcycle Club. So much history, and a lot more blood, wrapped up in a tidy symbol that grinned back at every man who'd ever put on the patch. We'd sworn our lives to the skull, the wings, and the smoking guns. Wouldn't ever change.
This club, this symbol, they went straight to my family. Brothers, ancestors, kin by blood and patch alike. Made me who I was, straight to my fuckin' core.
Right now, the club deserved a helluva lot better than it'd gotten.
I took a long pull on my pipe, pinching it between my fingers, thinking about how we were still busy undoing my old man's bullshit, several years after he'd met the reaper.
Early had his fun, and he fucked a lot of people over. My daddy made too many enemies, blew too much money, and left Ma's heart in tatters. Left that poor, sweet woman waiting to join him some day on the other side, but I knew they'd be going their separate ways.
Ma was never bound for hell like him. He deserved every fuckin' lick of the flame for what he'd done to the club, done to his brothers, done to me.
Fuck you, Danny, his ghost growled in my ear, as he did way too goddamned often. I ain't the only one bound for fire.
Someday, we'll meet again, boy. Count on it.
Growling, I stubbed out my pipe, wanting to put bad memories behind me. I had my getaway.
I was eager to start the long ride home from Georgia, heading back into the Smokies. I'd take the off roads leaving this state at night so the Deads wouldn't have a shot at getting me alone.
They came around these parts, but they'd been slow to snap up the free territory we'd left for the assholes after killing our old friends-turned-enemies, the Atlanta Torches. Even if they showed, they'd have plenty of street gangs to fight in the city, so many battles it'd stretch a club as big as theirs to the bone.
I had my key in the ignition when my phone went off.
I ripped it out, looked at the screen, and saw a name that turned my dick to stone. “Hannah? Where are you?”
“About to get off the runway and come home, Dusty.”
“Yeah? What's wrong, darlin'?” She shouldn't have been calling me from the airport. Adrenaline filled my veins, overwhelming the desire to finish what we'd started at Firefly's wedding for just a second.
When a woman rang this line, she only did it for two reasons.
Either she wanted every inch of me up inside her, or she needed me to bust heads.
Both were plenty valid. I'd never said no to either one, and I sure wasn't gonna break trends with this little minx.
“Why does something have to be wrong? Can't a girl just call to say hello?” Her sarcasm warmed my ears, sharp and sexy as ever. “Listen, I talked to Firefly. I'm coming into Atlanta tonight, and I don't want to deal with a rental. My brother said you're the only club man down there. Honestly, making your head any bigger is just about the last thing I want to do, but I need a ride to Tennessee even more, so...I think you see my dilemma.”
“Yeah, darlin', I think so, too.” I smiled, feeling the fight-or-flight hornet swarm in my blood calm down, surrendering to lust, running in my blood thick as warm honey. “I'll be at the airport, waiting. When do you get in?”
“Four hours or so. Sometime around ten. I'm not much for driving at night, but I'll make an exception if I'm the passenger.”
“Gonna have to make an exception for my bike, too, babe. Only way we're getting home.” I heard her suck in a sharp breath, and suppressed a laugh. “Calm down. We'll take it slow through the mountains and stop for coffee to stay warm. You can keep those little hands around me as tight as you want. I won't even try anything crazy.”
“You'd better not!” she squealed, sucking in another sharp breath as soon as the words are out.
Almost like the sounds I imagined she'd make all red and sweaty, riding every inch of my cock. Fuck.
That hard-on in my jeans jerked something fierce. Knew I'd probably have to pull over at a gas station just to jerk off if I wanted to make it home with this girl without losing my damned mind.
“Seriously, babe, just get your sweet ass home. I'll be waiting. Text me wherever you want to meet as soon as you're on the tarmac.”
She hesitated for several seconds, saying nothing. I wondered if she'd really take me up on the ride, or take off with that rental after all.
“Okay, Dusty. I will. I appreciate the help here, even if you might be the last man I want giving me a helping hand.”
Click. The line went dead, and I saw her name flashing cold on the screen.
Stuffing my phone in my pocket, I started my bike, and headed for the closest bar by the airport. I'd have a couple beers while I waited for her long ass flight to come in.
Perfect timing, really. Gave me a few hours to figure out how the fuck I'd keep a lid on my raging need to screw this girl 'til we both went blind.
Several hours later, just after ten, I saw her standing on the curb. Uptight, punctual, and sexy as the last time we'd kissed.
Hannah squeezed the handle on her suitcase when she saw me getting off my bike and coming toward her. White knuckles meant nervous, increasing the odds that her pretty blue eyes liked everything they drank in when they looked at me.
“Been awhile, darlin'. Let's get this loaded up and hit the road,” I said, pulling the suitcase from her hands. Surprisingly, it didn't weigh much.
“You're lucky I traveled light,” she said, trailing after me. “Going home on a bike wouldn't even be an option if I'd brought more of my wardrobe.”
“You'd be surprised what fits on this bike when it needs to. I'm more than happy to have you tag along with your thongs and handcuffs tucked in this bag. You and your kinky shit are always welcome on this ride, darlin'.”
Her eyes flew open, looking like they were about to leave her head. “Dusty! I've only been here for two minutes, and we're already joking about sex?”
“Who said I was joking?” I narrowed my eyes. Extending a hand to her, I wrapped her little fingers in mine, and passed her a spare helmet with my free hand. “Don't worry, babe. All screwing around aside, I'm not getting between your legs 'til you show me you're ready. We both do business. Let's treat this like any other professional deal, something you're entitled to because you're part of this MC. I've got too damned much respect for your brother to do anything else.”
That seemed to calm her. Relaxing her grip on my hand, she straddled the bike, climbing on behind me and fixing her helmet.
“Okay, damn it. Deal. But I swear, Dust, if you go back on anything...I'll get off first chance I've got and hitchhike the rest of the way.”
“I actually believe it,” I told her. “Everybody with the last name Davis is stubborn as a mule. Firefly's shown me that a hundred times over, and I know you've got the same spark, seeing where you're at with life.”
I watched her in the mirrors. That perfectly beautiful chestnut hair di
sappeared into the black shell protecting her skull.
Didn't know if the helmet made my temptation better or worse. It had a way of bringing out her other features, outlining her big blue eyes, her rosy lips, those white cheeks I wanted to paint red with fuckin' lust.
My compliments brought a smile to her face, but it seemed like there was something else, too. A quiet, halfway hidden sadness, some secret shit chewing at her, gnawing deep. Any girl who looked like that had secrets beyond her rocking body. I'd pull them out of her, sooner or later, one honest kiss at a time.
“Let's just make some miles,” she said, curling her hands around my waist.
We rolled out of the city without another word. Left me wondering why the hell having her hands on my abs felt more electric than anything else.
We were about to cross the border into Tennessee just south of Chattanooga, a little after midnight, when all hell broke loose.
Rain. Fog. Lightning. Thunder so loud it shook the countryside.
Hannah had been damned quiet up 'til then. Her hands did all the talking I needed to hear, tensing up against my skin, making her cling to me like a scared cat.
Who the hell could blame her? We were having a good old fashioned mountain storm, crashing straight through the summer sky and rolling toward the Smokies, breaking up the humid summer sweetness.
Too bad we got our asses caught right in the middle.
Another lightning bolt hit the ground off to the side of us, taking out a tree. My old navy senses stabbed my brain, slowing everything down, making me duck and weave like I was back on a speedboat, chasing the sea.
“Dusty!” Hannah screamed my name while we missed a few more hulking fallen branches.
“Hold on with everything you've got,” I growled back at her, gripping my bike's handlebars. “We're in for some chop heading down this exit.”
At least, I thought there was an exit in front of us.
I took the chance, knowing any side road was safer than staying on this highway. My bike roared down it, away from the poor bastards on the road just as blinded by the rain and chaos as us. Every car passing was a human error waiting to happen.
