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

by Nicole Snow

  She deserved a break, as long as she cooperated on the way home to the clubhouse, or wherever the fuck Dust wanted to take her.

  “Well? Are you going to stand there or tell me where we're going? If these are daddy's dying wishes, or something, I'd kind of like to know what's in store next.” She wrinkled her nose. “What are you, anyway? My bodyguard?”

  I turned my back and didn't say shit. Fuck me.

  For a nervous little girl who looked like she'd just stepped straight outta 1910, she had one helluva mouth behind those plush pink lips.

  I turned to her slowly, cherry picking my words. “I'm the guy who's gonna make sure your life doesn't wind up more fucked up than it already is, Cora. If the Prez says I'm your keeper, then that's the way it'll be. You're shot to shit right now because of what your old man just pulled, I get it. That's the only reason why I'm standing here like a good boy instead of marching over and stuffing a gag in your mouth.”

  She rolled her eyes, and my fingers twitched. If we made it outta here without another fucking scene, I'd be tossing and turning tonight for sure, imagining how good she'd squirm with my big hand slapping her sweet ass 'til she learned some damned respect.

  Her mouth popped open, but whatever sass she had planned was drowned out by new commotion inside the house. Prez started screaming at the drunk.

  “You stupid toasted asshole – let go! You're not getting a hold of this shit! I'm not standing here while you splatter your damned brains all over your place. Fuck's sake, Jimmy, your little girl's standing right outside. Just breathe.”

  “Fuck you! I know what I gotta do, there ain't another choice!” The drunk's voice sounded rushed, desperate, angry. “Outta my way, Dusty. Don't make me shoot you, too.”

  Shit. I stood on the step leading inside, one hand on my nine, ready to bust in if the standoff got ugly. I could feel Cora's tense little eyes all over me, standing behind me, scared for her life.

  “You won't. Give it the fuck back!” Dust exploded, his voice so loud it was barely muffled by the wall between us. “Don't be a goddamned idiot. Please. For her sake, if you don't give two fucks about your own anymore. We'll figure shit out with the Torches, take you away and stash you somewhere safe, same as her. Come on. It's not too late, Jimmy. You've been like a brother to me. I'll never walk away easy if I let it go down like –“

  One deafening gunshot silenced the Cap'n.

  Cora jumped. I pulled my nine, and my fist hit the door, making enough space to peek inside.

  “Daddy? Daddy?!” I heard her call behind me, her voice dying in a brutal whisper.

  Dust was heading toward me, a grim look on his face. “He fucking did it. Couldn't talk the stupid motherfucker out of shit. Nothing left to do except take care of the girl like we planned,” he growled.

  Prez punched the button for the garage, and we listened to it creak open. “On it, Prez. Cora?“

  I walked toward her, ready to grab her hand and help her up. “Shit. Girl, I'm real sorry for what just went down. You never should've heard any of that. I –“

  Felt like I was touching ice when I pushed her fingers through mine. She just stood there, her eyes barely bigger than her open mouth. The girl had gone damned near catatonic, and who could fucking blame her?

  I helped her onto my ride. Wrapped her arms around me, and told her to hold on tight, making sure she could at least do that before we moved.

  It wasn't 'til she was on the back of my bike and I had a helmet strapped to her head that she started to wail. Dust revved his engine and pointed a finger at the road.

  Forward. No delays.

  I nodded. It was a long, hellish ride through Knoxville. I made damned sure Cora's arms stayed locked around me, and I held her small, soft hand the whole way home.

  If I could've fixed the hole in her old man's head and killed him all over again for putting her through this gruesome bullshit, I'd have done it in a heartbeat.

  But the Prez was dead right. Nothing left to do except keep her safe. Well, just one more thing, after the big two.

  Protect her.

  Keep her sane.

  And find out what the ever-living fuck was going on here.

  2

  Wires Crossed (Cora)

  The bike's tires spun, loud and dizzy, but they had nothing on my head.

  A couple hours ago, I'd been finishing up my paperwork with Mister Fisher, the kind, older teacher helping me intern in his ninth grade math class. Daddy had been sick at home the last few days, so I'd stopped at the drug store on my way home and picked up some cold medicine.

  Now, he was dead. I'd heard the gunshot that killed him, put him out of the soul killing misery dripping off him like the sweat and liquor I'd smelled the last time we embraced.

  Now, I was pressed up against this hulk in his ink and leather, this utter bastard who looked like a Viking and talked like he'd just stepped out of prison.

  Now, I couldn't begin to piece together what was left of my life.

  I should've snapped. Shattered. Died on the spot.

  Instead, I was riding with this demon. My mind, my soul, my heart in ruins, broken so suddenly they turned me into a zombie, the only thing that kept me from throwing a fit and falling onto the road blurring by beneath us.

  It didn't help that the monster who'd forced his way into my life was handsome in a rogue I'm-going-to-fuck-you-up or just fuck-you kind of way.

  Big, brutal shoulders that would've made any linebacker or champion lifter jealous. Ice blue eyes, colder and darker than mine. Light cinnamon colored hair lay thick on his head, connecting with the solid stubble on his chin, sandpaper that looked like it would scratch in all the right ways against a woman's skin.

  He looked too good to be bad, but I wasn't a fool. He had the patch, just like the older man riding ahead of us. The winged skull with two guns to the side that told me daddy had buried himself very deep, before he'd taken his life.

  I'd teased him about being my bodyguard before I heard the fateful bullet, yes. But to be honest, I knew exactly what he was.

  My jailer.

  And it wasn't like I had any choice. Something had been eating at daddy for months.

  I could never get it out of him. I should've seen the signs when he'd taken up the bottle, hard stuff he hadn't touched since mom left us years ago.

  I closed my eyes and grasped the devil tighter, trying not to enjoy his warmth. I'd never ridden a bike before today. Cool spring winds tore at my face, and they were the only thing that reminded me I was alive, except his heat.

  My hands smoothed on his rock hard abs – too hard for a man who probably spent his free time chasing skirt and drinking beer. What he did with the rest of his time, I didn't even want to know.

  These men were criminals. I'd heard daddy mention the Deadly Pistols MC every so often growing up.

  Once, when we were fishing, he'd told me one of them was his friend, before he'd joined the force. Just a neighbor kid he'd stayed in touch with all through his career. He'd grown into a man my father drank with a couple times a year, even after he left the Knoxville PD last winter.

  I had a sneaking suspicion the President, Dust, was that friend. Some buddy, letting daddy murder himself in our own kitchen...

  Hell, had he really killed himself? Or had the biker done him in?

  I tried not to cry. Numbness iced my veins, froze my synapses, made it hard to think about anything except how royally screwed I was since I came home to an absolute whirlwind.

  My hands instinctively clung tighter to the biker's cut as we approached his clubhouse. Their club logo loomed large, painted on the wall, taunting me with its sick bony smile and vacant eyes.

  As soon as Firefly stopped the bike, I jumped off and heard him run after me. I started vomiting underneath a spindly tree before he could grab me.

  The bastard held me while I let out all the pain, crying again, splattering my shoes. I couldn't stand to look at him, but God help me, I did it anyway.

&nbs
p; I had to see the face of the man who held the key to my whole future, even if it would set my ruined stomach off a second time.

  “What?!” I demanded. “You enjoying this, or something?”

  “Fuck you, if that's what you think.” His stark blue eyes softened. “I'm figuring out how the hell I'm gonna get your guts back in order so you don't join your old man on the other side. It's been a rough fucking day, darlin'. Been forever since I took care of anybody else.”

  “I don't need you to take care of me!” I coughed, spat at the ground, and shoved my hands against his chest as hard as I could.

  The whole world started to spin. God, I was sick. Dying, maybe. I felt like I'd pass out, and maybe that would be a mercy.

  A weak smile pulled at his lips, the last thing I saw before I blacked out. He held me softly, lowered his lips to my ear, and spoke one word.

  “Bullshit.”

  Two days in this dirty, cramped room. Two days I should've been studying for my state license, scoring tests, and helping Mister Fisher prep the Geometry lesson next week.

  Goddamn it. He'd know by next week I'd dropped off the face of the earth.

  These bikers weren't letting me go anytime soon, and I'd be lucky if I wasn't blacklisted across the county for jobs before I got out of here.

  Mister Tall, Dark, and Crude wasn't having any protests.

  He brought me food, water, and asked me if I needed anything else a couple times a day. Mostly salads and deli wraps from the grocery store across town, about the healthiest stuff I could get him to fetch me without starting a scene.

  Eating cost me half the day's energy. When I wasn't thinking about daddy getting himself into trouble and ending his life one wall away from me, I buried my face in the pillow, weeping for the life I'd just had ripped open by a tactical nuke.

  Nothing made sense.

  The fact that whatever was weighing on him was so bad he'd had me snatched away before he'd put the gun to his head should've scared the hell out of me.

  Honestly, it didn't. Nothing hurt worse than losing everything in a single afternoon.

  Too sudden. Too savage. Too shocking.

  I couldn't get over it. I seriously wondered if I ever would.

  No, no, a hundred times no. I wouldn't even roll to face him when I heard the door pop open.

  “Chicken ranch with lots of lettuce and kale, babe. Just like you asked.” Firefly stood next to me on the bed, holding the bag, until I spun around and snatched it from his hands.

  He gave me a death glare as I ripped into the bag, plucked out the wrap, and tore through the deli wrapping paper like a starving raccoon. I took a big bite before I looked into his ice cold eyes.

  “How long are you going to keep me in here, living like a bum?”

  “As long as the Prez says you staying here is law. You see this shit?” He tapped his chest, a small rectangular patch stitched in blood red beneath his name. ENFORCER, it said, as if I needed a reminder.

  “Yeah, I can still read, Fireball. I was going to be a teacher.”

  His tough face crinkled, anger and amusement warring over a handsome canvass. He seemed to hate it when I used the wrong name.

  What kind of name was Firefly for a biker, anyway? At least Fireball would've fit the explosive rage I could sense in him, churning just beneath the surface.

  “That's who I am. Enforcer. Sergeant-at-Arms. Means I keep order around here for the club. Usually, that's breaking up drunken brawls and arguments between the brothers, but it extends to you, too, darlin'. Just as long as Prez keeps me posted to keeping your ass fed and watered.”

  “Uh, huh. How should I salute you, sir? Isn't that how all this pretend soldier stuff works with you biker boys?”

  His temples popped as he clenched his jaw. Whatever. I wasn't here to make him happy, and I definitely wasn't here to flirt.

  “You don't need to salute shit when you're not wearing a patch. You just gotta respect it. Every group needs discipline, woman. Count yourself lucky. What we've got going on here ain't half as bad as the five years I spent in Kandahar. U.S. Army does a decent job of teaching a man some respect.”

  Something you could fucking learn, his eyes said, but his lips refrained.

  I blinked. No way. This six foot something human pitbull was a vet?

  “How long were you in?” I said, swallowing my sarcasm with a big gulp of water. “Daddy served too. Short stint in the National Guard. Not that it did him much good.”

  “Too long to live a normal life. The shit that happened over there – that's a big part of what I'm doing here.” His eyes hardened, and he stared me down, as if he'd suddenly said too much. “Don't regret a damned thing. This is the life. Rank means a lot to me, and so does respect. A little peace and order goes a long fuckin' way.”

  “Yeah, I figured. Daddy was all about the neatness and discipline too, except for the times he hit the bottle.” I stared at my shoes, wanting to punch the nearest wall.

  He'd been drinking the last time, hadn't he? Right before he...

  “You don't need to worry about that shit anymore, babe. It's over. All that matters is keeping you safe. We'll get his ashes out of the county for you when all this is over. You can pay your respects and get on with your life.”

  If I wasn't so sick to my stomach, I would've laughed in his face. He talked like it was all so easy – like I hadn't just had the whole world torn away from me.

  Like dough smashed through a cookie cutter lined with barbed wire. The old world was gone. I'd entered one that was totally illegal, dangerous, and alien to everything I'd ever known.

  Firefly plopped down on the bed next to me, shaking the beaten mattress. I bounced up and down, and for a second, I imagined the sounds we'd make here under very different circumstances.

  I bit my lip and blushed. What the hell was wrong with me?

  Twenty-two years, and I was still a virgin, that's what. No amount of grief could stop me from thinking all about the things a big man like him could do to me, naked and raw.

  “Pay my respects?” I said numbly. “Why?”

  “Huh? You loved your old man, right?” His eyes widened.

  “Sure. But right now, I hate him for leaving me. I hate him for bringing me here. I hate him for putting me at your mercy, Fireball.”

  I saw the little tick in his lips every time I butchered his name.

  What a bitch I'd become. I wanted to choke and die on my own bitter words, especially when I saw his eyes narrow and his face harden again.

  “Fuck this, Cora. You can cool your heels alone and sort this shit out by yourself. I'm the man who's looking after you because I'm told to. I'm not your fuckin' therapist.” His look bled murder. Part of me wanted to apologize, if only it wouldn't make me feel worse.

  Daddy was the only one who owed anyone an apology – and he was dead.

  “You're dealing with a lot, I get it, but a girl only gets so many passes. Only gonna tell you one more time, darlin'. My name's Firefly, and if you keep on going with that Fireball shit, I won't give a damn how fucked in the head you are. I'll bend you over, rip off that skirt, and give your sweet ass the whoopin' it deserves for blowing smoke in my face.”

  He jumped up, headed for the door, and slammed it so hard behind him the walls shook.

  Jaw, meet floor. My mouth hung open for at least a solid minute.

  Thank God the only mirror here was in the little bathroom attached to the bedroom, or else I'd have seen my face beet red.

  If I wanted to stay alive, I couldn't keep messing with this man. I'd have to find another way to stay sane, and deal with my loss, or else I'd only drown deeper in the hell waters rising inch by bitter inch.

  The next time I woke up, it was late. I'd thought the loud barking was in my dreams, at first, but then I sat up and shook myself awake.

  No, it wasn't just my imagination. Someone had brought a dog into the clubhouse. A big one by the sounds of it.

  I couldn't sleep through this commotio
n. It surprised me, since the place had been eerily quiet since I'd arrived. I stood up, straightened my clothes, and walked toward the door, pressing my ear against the banged up wood.

  “Fucking shit, brother! I think he's hairier and got a bigger dick than you!” a rough voice said. Then the dog let out three more explosive barks and a whole group of men burst out laughing.

  “Prez is gonna shit bricks when he sees this!”

  “Club's gonna go broke feeding that mutt, Veep.”

  “Shut up. He's a pure bred Irish Wolfhound. If you boys think I haven't already cleared it with Dust, you've emptied out your skulls. Only pockets running dry'll be mine because he's my boy. Not the club's.”

  “I like him, Joker. He's got a good temperament for you.” A woman's voice, soft and pleasant, cut through the gruff jeers and bawdy laughter.

  Then the dog started barking again and everybody roared.

  “Fuck, we've got church in an hour. That hole in the gate won't hold him. Ain't no time to fix it. You'll have to stick him somewhere 'til we're done.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Already on it.”

  The door flew open, and I almost fell over. Caught myself just in time against the wall, before I came face-to-face with a tall, dark haired man with even crazier eyes than Firefly. Next to him, the biggest, hairiest gray dog I'd ever seen in my life.

  “Shit. Forgot he had you in here. Were you sleeping?”

  I shook my head, already having an ugly feeling what he wanted. I looked through a small group of bikers and the regal looking brunette, who shot me a look of sympathy and surprise.

  “Need a place to park my dog while the brothers meet. It'll only be a couple hours or so. He's a good boy, he won't bother you none.” He looked down at the big dog. The animal's mouth was open, his tongue out, and he wagged his furry tail. “Sorry to barge in like this.”

  “He can keep me company,” I said with a sigh, hoping he was right about the giant being well behaved.

  “Thanks. I'll be back for him before you know it.”

  The dog stepped inside. Several rough looking men stared, and the brunette turned to one of them, still eyeballing me before the door closed.