Never Wed an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love)

by Nicole Snow

  Other times, he'd fall into bed with me, hold me in his big, strong arms, and rock us both back to sleep until all our worries were a million miles away. I loved this man more by the day because he cared. I even appreciated his hurt because he couldn't finish things like he wanted.

  One morning, about a week before Thanksgiving, I woke up sick. It must've been the late night burger, an order from a greasy spoon I'd shared with him before we passed out, exhausted from more late night detective work after I'd done my coding for the day, and he'd done his bossy biker businessman thing.

  “We'll fuckin' find them, Hannah,” he'd growled the night before, after sex. I laid against his chest. “Don't care how long it takes. Don't give a damn how many dead ends, loose ends, and worthless ends we keep running into. I ain't letting you down, darlin', not 'til we can sleep easy because every last one of those fucks is dead.”

  His words were reassuring, like always, on the surface. Deep down, they scared me. If his best intelligence and my brightest detective work online couldn't find a meaningful trace of these people, they could hit us anytime.

  The mobsters knew who we were, where we were, and what we did. We were blind.

  Washing up, I splashed cold water on my face, wishing it was the reason I shuddered. If only it weren't Dom, his threats still stalking me, every day he lurked out there, without being found, and dealt with.

  I came downstairs, drank some water, and laid on the couch, letting the soft grey November light spill across me. Several prospects stood on the deck for a smoke, my permanent guard. There were constantly at least two outside when he'd left for the day.

  The shitty morning turned around when the text came in.

  BABY COMING, SIS. MEET US AT THE HOSPITAL IF YOU WANT TO MEET HER.

  Firefly's number. I jumped up, ripped open the screen door, and shook off my weird sickness.

  “Guys, I need to leave! Follow me to the hospital if you want. Cora's about to have her baby.”

  The prospects smiled. One of them, a big man named Apache, followed me in, got on his bike, and followed my car the whole way to the hospital.

  I met Huck in the waiting room. God, it had been forever since we'd hung out. I remembered how much I missed him as soon as his big, brotherly arms enveloped me.

  “Damned good to see you, sis. You've always got a place with us, whatever happens with him.”

  I pulled away and looked into his eyes, sensing the smoldering anger when he referred to Dusty. “I'm here to meet my niece and support you guys. Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

  We both shared a smile. Good timing because about a second later, a nurse wearing scrubs tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Mister Davis? You can come with me, if you're ready. It's almost time.”

  I squeezed my brother's hand one more time and watched him head for the delivery room. I found myself a chair, a sexy, suspenseful read for my phone, and settled into the waiting room.

  There hadn't been enough good news since the wedding, but today was going to change that. Smiling to myself, I leaned back in my chair, content that I'd be meeting the brand new addition to my family in just a few hours.

  “Look at her. She's got Davis eyes.” A very tired Cora passed me the baby, laying in her bed, smiling from the fierce labor she'd just gotten through.

  Firefly smiled, hanging over my shoulder, watching as I snuggled the little bundle to my chest and saw her face for the first time.

  Total darling.

  “Oh, Lucy. Could you even be any more precious?” I whispered down to her, my heart fluttering a hundred beats a minute when the tiny baby opened her bright blue eyes, and gave me something like a smile.

  More precious? Obviously not.

  Firefly laid a tender hand on my shoulder, admiring his daughter, the same rich, manly scent Dusty wore rolling off him. “Wish like hell mama could've seen this,” he said.

  My eyes lingered on little Lucy for a few more seconds before I looked up, stared into my brother's eyes, and gave him a bittersweet nod. “She's looking down from a better place, Huck. I have a funny feeling she's never been prouder. You're going to give Lucy the best life a little girl could hope for.”

  “You got that right,” he said, reaching for the baby and bringing her to his chest. “Already had plenty to fight for before today. Now? Shit, it's like I've got ten times as much.”

  Cora and I shared a look. We were both trying not to cry as Huck held up his daughter, cradling her tiny face to his. Those big biker hands folded around her like shields, two protective paws that would never, ever let her down. Not for anything.

  Would being a father mellow him? Maybe when he got them home, and settled into his new life, he'd reconsider things with me and Dusty.

  Seeing little Lucy gave me new hope that the bad blood would fade. Even faster if we could just track down the Sicilians, finish the job, and turn all our attention to our brand new lives together.

  Whether it happened quickly or not, life didn't slow down. It went on, rich and vibrant and ever changing, quickening as the years went by. I looked at my brother and brand new niece again, smiling wider.

  Whatever happened, I had a strange feeling it involved another baby, sooner than I imagined. Dusty talked more about a family every week, and the idea didn't scare me like it used to. With my husband, anything was possible, however scary or impossible it might've looked just a few short weeks ago.

  I walked over to Firefly and Lucy one more time, stroking the baby's brow before I said goodbye. “I'll be back here tomorrow, guys. Looks like you both need some sleep and quality time with the new baby girl. I won't get in the way of that.”

  “Wait.” Huck spoke sharply when I was halfway to the door, one hand reaching for the silver handle. “Give my best to the Prez when he gets home tonight. Him and I still ain't on good terms, but staring at each other like fuckin' tigers every day we're both at the clubhouse is getting old. I don't want to be his enemy, even if I think he's a rat bastard for marrying you under everybody's nose. I'm re-thinking some things, Hannah, and I want him to know it. Tell him. Please.”

  Just when I thought the day couldn't get any better...

  My fingers tightened on the handle, and I nodded. “I will, Huck. You're a good man, and Cora's a lucky woman. You're going to be just as good a father as you are my big brother.”

  One more tender look before I stepped outside, and gently closed the door behind me. Thank God.

  It was about all I could handle before I broke down, spilling more tears than little Lucy would as she tried to learn the baffling ins and outs of this world.

  No, life wasn't perfect, not even close. But there were hints that it might be, sooner than I ever believed.

  YOU'VE GOT A PRESENT ON THE BED WHEN YOU GET HOME, DARLIN. YOU AIN'T THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN BUY FANCY LINGERIE.

  Dusty's text made me stop near the door to the parking garage and giggle. I covered my mouth, standing against the wall, sending him a quick reply before I got too wet for the drive home.

  All these weeks living together, newly married, and we hadn't slowed down. At the rate we were going, he'd need a new mattress next year.

  Lately, he'd teased me a lot about several outfits I'd seen in a catalogue, plus some other items that still made me blush.

  EASY, TIGER. WE HAVE A COUPLE THINGS TO TALK ABOUT BEFORE WE TURN IN EARLY TONIGHT. LOVE YOU.

  I wasn't quite sure how to tell him what Firefly said. It was good news, at least. He'd probably welcome any chance to bury the hatchet with my brother to get the club back on track, and our little family, too.

  The hospital parking was ridiculous. I had to walk down a long corridor to the elevator before I could get to the right floor. A long, spartan, dimly lit hallway no woman wanted to travel alone.

  I moved as quickly as I could, breathing a sigh of relief when the elevator button lit up, bringing the lift down to my level.

  If only I hadn't stopped to look at my phone again. I might've seen the h
and coming when it reached through the doors, grabbed me by the throat, and flung me against the wall so hard my spine cracked.

  I hit the metal lining the elevator with a resounding thud. The doors slid shut behind the silhouette who'd attacked me. A man I'd never seen before stepped into view, just as the fiery pain in my lower back hit my brain.

  “You scream, you die, bitch,” he snarled, pressing the flat edge of his switchblade against my throat. “You knew Franco? He was my fucking brother.”

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  If only there was a string of curses in the world fit for this. He was tall, dressed in a neat Italian leather jacket, his face vaguely familiar because he shared the dead man's features.

  “What do you want?” I whimpered, closing my eyes.

  “Me? I want to put this fucking knife in your throat, and then keep going. Slice you clean open.” My heart leapt into my throat while I heard him sigh angrily. “Real goddamned shame Dom's got other plans for you, peachy-pie. You're coming with me.”

  Like I had a choice.

  He punched the elevator key again, never letting go of my throat. His knife pressed cool against my skin the whole time the elevator moved.

  I quietly prayed the elevator wouldn't stop again. Unless it was the entire Deadly Pistols MC, nobody stood a chance of helping me. They'd only get themselves killed if they walked in on me and this monster.

  His knife pulled away when the elevator dinged. Then the goon grabbed me by the wrist, jerking me forward, dragging me out the doors with him.

  My happy dreams died with every step.

  I eyed each corner, looking for any signs of cameras. Just my luck that security around here was so lax, there was nothing.

  Even if there were...what good would it do?

  It wouldn't make this mad man release me without anybody else getting hurt.

  It wouldn't bring me back to Dusty, Firefly, Cora, or Lucy.

  It wouldn't take me to the beautiful place I'd begun to call my home.

  “Stoop down and get the fuck in,” the goon commanded, giving my neck a rough push. We stopped in front of a black sedan.

  He reached for the key fob, flicked the button, and I heard the doors unlock, heavy as a tomb rattling open. Oh, God.

  Instinctively, I knew the second I got inside that car, I wouldn't be coming back. It would probably be the end of me. Dom's face flashed in my brain, evil and furious, ready to rip me apart with his switchblade with the same ruthless precision he used on pomegranate skin.

  A heavy blow crashed across the back of my head. “Bitch! Do you know how to listen? I said get in.”

  I'd waited too long. Hiding my tears, I reached for the handle, popping the door open. I dragged myself into the backseat and laid down.

  “Honestly, I never thought we'd find you. Thought I'd go to my grave knowing the cunt who killed Franco got away with it. I don't care about the honor or the accolades. I'm after all the things Dom's gonna do to you when I get you home.” He paused, his dark eyes staring back at me in the mirror. “I want to watch you suffer. When Dom says the word, I'm going to make damned sure I'm the guy holding the knife.”

  His vicious threats blurred by me as my mind detached. Adrenaline heightened my heartbeat, my nerves, my need to run for my life at the first chance. But it also numbed the sheer terror I should've felt.

  I pushed my face into the leather seats in the back, still laying down, and breathed the strange, luxurious calming scent. This was the closest thing I'd find to Dusty's familiar leather smell, whenever he wore his cut.

  The car moved. We roared through the parking garage quickly, down the ramp, and stopped for the ticket agent.

  My captor laughed, muttering a few words as he paid the parking fees. “Real bad stomach bug for the wife. Yeah, she'll be all right. Just got to get her home, give her the old routine of soda and crackers...”

  I dared to twist my face up then, just enough to see the monster's eyes staring back at me in the mirror. Don't you fucking scream, bitch, they said. If I go down, you're coming with, and so is he. I'll gut this asshole in the booth in front of you.

  My hand drifted slowly down to my thigh. He'd torn my purse away from me when we were in the elevator. I managed to stuff my phone into my pocket before all hell broke lose, and he hadn't noticed in the commotion.

  But the phone wasn't what I was after.

  Ever since the fateful week we'd gotten married, when Dusty dispatched two of the same animals as easily as pulling up weeds, I hadn't taken anything for granted. He'd given me another wedding present, something the stupid, sick asshole at the steering wheel forgot to check for when he'd marched me out to his car.

  My fingers slipped into my pocket when we were several miles from the hospital, heading for the highway. The switchblade's cold, steel handle rubbed my thumb, and I felt the groves outlining the Deadly Pistols MC logo.

  Dusty told me it belonged to his father, once. Ironic, since I could tell he hated the man, even if he never went into a lot of detail. The old blade practically burned in my hand, as if it wanted to live again, kill again, and save my fucking life.

  Deep breaths, I told myself. Count to ten. Wait for the car to slow, just enough to give me a chance to survive the crash. That's when I'll do it.

  Once I knew I had a good grip, I sat up, rubbing my eyes to make him think I'd been too busy crying to worry about anything else.

  “Fuck, you don't look so good.” His cruel eyes flashed back at me. “Put your fucking seat belt on. Last thing I need is a state trooper giving us shit if I get pulled over. We're blowing through these mountains fast, all the way to Nashville. There's a private plane waiting for us there.”

  A plane meant there could be only one final destination in mind. I'd be back in Seattle if I let him take me, staring at Dom face-to-face. My odds of surviving this would go from about one percent down to zero.

  He drove on a few more miles in total silence. I let the hate come into my eyes, taking a good look at the man I wanted to kill.

  “Why the fuck you staring at me?” he snorted awhile later. “Don't tell me it's that PTSD shit setting in already. We haven't even started yet!”

  My fingers tightened on the secret weapon in my pocket. I narrowed my gaze on him harder, sharper, never breaking for anything.

  “You're one creepy little bitch,” he spat, steering us slowly into a sudden bend around the mountain. “I shouldn't care what you look like, one way or another. How did Franco look when he died? Only fucking thing that matters!”

  His voice trembled. Grief poured out his lips. The extra jerk in the steering wheel wasn't much, but it was noticeable.

  I knew the roads around here, but not so well I could totally predict the sharp mountain turns. I'd wait for the next one before I took my chances. Fortunately, he wouldn't know either, so he'd be taking the entire pass slow. I saw my opening.

  “Now you're going back to sleep?” he asked, noticing my eyes were closed. “Okay, I get it. You just want to fuck with me. Well, fuck you, too.”

  “When you asked me about how your brother looked when he died...did you really want to know?” I said, slowly looking at him again.

  His eyebrows went up, confusion setting in. “What kind of question is that? Seriously, how fucking stupid are you? I wasn't really asking, Miss Creepy Shit-for-Brains –“

  I snapped my seat belt button and lunged forward, grabbing at his throat with one hand before he could finish. He stomped the brakes. I leaned forward with all my might, fighting the G forces trying to throw me backward.

  Time to pray.

  The next few seconds were critical, the last before he died, or we both went spiraling off the next curve, into the nearest ravine.

  Mafia man howled, roaring his rage at my ambush, right before I plunged the blade into his neck. Spinning, the entire world turned upside down, flinging me back against the passenger seat while his blood went everywhere.

  Wheels screeched.
Vengeful goon gurgled blood. Glass exploded the next time the car jerked violently, whipping my neck around in a savage twist. There wasn't time to scream before the darkness hit me like someone throwing a pitch black blanket over my head.

  The first thing I heard when I woke was something dripping. The second was my phone pinging me awake.

  I tried to sit up. Something stank, motor oil and death strewn together into a sick new odor I never wanted to smell again. My neck burned like something crawled inside it and bit me, but all my limbs were there.

  I hoped.

  The only way out was up. I looked through the hole where the passenger window had been, and reached for the door's handle where I expected it to be.

  Gone. Thankfully, it didn't matter, because the lightest pressure moved the broken door up like a loose lid on an open can. One more quick shove and I climbed up, out of the wreck, toppling over the mess of broken metal, onto the pavement.

  I scampered away, toward the abandoned truck stop in the distance before I let myself stop and survey the hideous damage behind me.

  Miracles were real. Twisted metal became jagged teeth, stabbing into every passenger spot except the tiny space I'd been lodged in. Asshole's inhuman remains were crunched into what was left of his seat, one more grim reminder I shouldn't have survived.

  And yet, I did. I'd lived without getting cut open by the car or murdered by a very pissed off mafia goon. It hadn't even started on fire or exploded like I'd expected after watching so many action flicks.

  The wreck wouldn't go unnoticed long. Several headlights passed by, too dim to spot the damage without really slowing down, or maybe the drivers were just in such a hurry they didn't care.

  The next couple hours were a complete and utter blur. When I should've dialed Dusty, Firefly, someone from the club to come and help me, I called the closest taxi service instead, only after I'd gotten about a half mile up the road.

  Even more miraculously than surviving the wreck, I hadn't gotten torn up too bad. My neck ached like someone took a crowbar to it, but nothing seemed fractured. The driver asked me about my cuts and bruises, what little he could see in the dark.