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

by Nicole Snow

  The monster came up to me and laid his head in my lap, letting out a soft whine. No, no monster at all, I guessed, just another lost soul like me.

  “Just you and me now, boy,” I said nervously.

  What had the man with the VP patch called him? An Irish Wolfhound? Jesus, he was half the size of the giant men around here. I reached out tentatively, running my fingers through his thick, gorgeous fur.

  The dog licked my hand. Wherever he'd come from, he wasn't as hardened as these men. Something about that made me smile.

  This week had been nothing but brutal. For now, I was grateful for the happy distraction.

  Didn't take long for the dog to let out a huge yawn, and then he curled up next to the bed, looking way too comfy for his gigantic frame. I settled in next to him, leaving my hand hanging over the bed, stroking his fur as I drifted off.

  A tear ran down my cheek, the last one of the day, maybe. Certainly not the last I'd have as long as I was at the Deadly Pistols' mercy.

  The Wolfhound wasn't as distressed as me. He belonged here. I didn't.

  But we were both pets to the club now.

  If, by some miracle, I survived all this, I vowed I'd move somewhere I never had to hear the roar of a motorcycle again.

  3

  Zookeeper (Firefly)

  “We've been waiting for this damned meeting for three fucking days, Prez, with all due respect. You gonna spill the beans about why the fuck I'm playing babysitter to this chick, and how long I'm gonna have to do it?”

  We all sat around the table. Dust hadn't even looked at me since he stepped in. He'd been gone for at least a solid day since he'd come by the clubhouse to make some calls, telling me to make sure Cora stayed locked up and comfortable in my room.

  Meanwhile, I swallowed her fucking vinegar as best I could without making good on my threats. Kept my distance, too. When I wasn't bringing her food or checking up on her ungrateful ass, I slept on a bench next to the goddamned bar.

  “You're doing her a solid, Firefly. Don't you fucking doubt it.” Skin looked at me, smug as ever, his smile twisting the long scar on his cheek.

  Bastard thought he was hot shit since he'd got the club's books in orders as Treasurer the last couple months. 'Course, that rich girl he'd claimed as his probably had a lot to do with it.

  I'd be grinning ear-to-ear too if I was getting my cock sucked every fucking night by pussy that sweet on my balls.

  “Didn't ask for your opinion. I'm talking to the Prez!” My fist slammed the table so hard I could feel my bones rattling in my wrists.

  Next to me, Joker looked over, a savage warning in his cold, dark eyes. Shit, that boy had nothing but death glares to hand out. I counted myself the only man here who the Veep didn't intimidate.

  “Forget it,” Dust said to his right hand man. “He deserves to know. This whole club deserves an answer. An old friend of mine cashed in a favor before he decided to blow his fucking brains out.” Prez stared past all of us.

  Guess he had every reason to be bitter after failing to stop the selfish, drunken prick from offing himself.

  Some friend. The fuck wouldn't even listen when the Prez tried to save his life, and now he'd sent himself and his daughter to hell.

  Crawl, Sixty, and a couple other guys looked on at our chief. Their eyes demanded answers. Every man at this table wanted to know why this shit involved the club.

  Whatever the fuck was going on, it roped us all in. Knew that much. Dust wouldn't fuck us up like this over any personal biz. Not even black and bloody shit that only mattered to him.

  “Jimmy used to be a smart man. Mister Upright Citizen, had himself a badge, a babe, and the nice little daughter who's now playing guest in our clubhouse.” Prez looked at us, folded his hands, his gray eyes going cold. “That's the way he sold himself to John Q. Public, anyway. Behind the scenes, he was dirty as hell, taking kickbacks from my old man, Early. He pulled this club's sack outta boiling water dozens of times on the force, covering up our loose ends before any Feds came sniffing. We paid him well for it. Everybody was happy. The boy put his pay to good use, too, raising a family. Did everything there by the book 'til his woman got slammed by the Big C.”

  A couple guys coughed. Half the boys in this room had lost somebody to cancer at one time or another. I hated that fucking shit. It didn't give a fuck about good or bad, patch or civilian, man or woman.

  Jimmy still didn't deserve a shred of sympathy. Too damned bad I started to feel it anyway, pathetic and screwed up as he'd been.

  “Don't give me that look, boys. He checked out like a coward, and I know it. Nobody at this table needs to pretend my buddy was a martyr,” Dust said, pulling out his lighter. “I ain't blind. He died a fucking idiot. Went off the rails after his wife died. Started to do every sin in the book just to escape being lonely. Poor bastard took up gambling when he wasn't hitting the bottle. Damned fool almost lost his house on gambling debt. That should've been his warning. He didn't listen.”

  “So, what?” I growled. “Where do the Torches come in? I know they're a part of this, or you wouldn't be talking about this dead asshole here in church.”

  “They've got legacy money. Fuckers used to pass out loans like candy, especially to crooked cops across Dixie. Jimmy lapped it up to feed his demon. Bastard made a lot of trips to Atlanta – some Homeland security shit he had to go to after the planes hit the towers – as if any goddamned terrorist would ever go after Knoxville or the Tri Cities.”

  Sixty snorted, smiled, and then wiped the stupid grin off his face when Dust gave him an ugly look. The Prez leaned back in his chair, fished out his pipe, and lit it before he continued.

  “They gave him more than he really needed. Thought it'd do 'em good to stay on the good side of a Tennessee sheriff, right before the Deads rolled in and fucked up their city, giving them something more important to worry about.”

  Shit. I could see where this was going before the Prez got there, and I balled my fists underneath the table, ready to turn the fucking thing over.

  I didn't feel bad anymore for the dead, dumbshit who'd caught his own bullet. He'd walked into the hornet's nest and got chewed up bad.

  “War costs a lot of money. Lord knows this club's still learning that lesson, getting back on our feet after my old man ran us dry and the Deads caught up to us.” Dust looked at Skin, remembering all the shit the club had gone through to get his old lady free from her dirty pimp, plus the even dirtier debt she owed to our biggest rival, the Deadhands MC. “Well, the Torches came calling for every dime. Told him he'd better raid the police department's accounts if he had to, deliver some goods on the side, whatever the fuck it took to dig him almost two hundred-K out of the hole. Jimmy was stupid, but he wasn't a total fuckin' moron. He wouldn't do it. Resigned instead of raiding county funds.”

  “Fuck. No wonder the poor bastard shot his brains out,” Skin growled.

  “Atlanta Torches' mob ties run deep,” I said slowly, wheels turning, tying all the dirty strands together in my head. “They wouldn't even need to ride up here themselves to fuck him over. They could get the Cubans or the Irish to slip into town and do it for 'em without us noticing. Fuckers got deep roots going all the way down the Gulf coast, old ties they still keep greased, despite their dicks being trimmed back to Atlanta.”

  Dust nodded. “They're the only holdouts in Georgia the Deads haven't slaughtered. That's why both our clubs decided to stop shooting at each other years ago and work on killing the Deads instead.”

  “So what did they want?” Skin asked, running a hand through his thick brown hair.

  Prez snorted. “Everything, Skinny boy. Torches would've taken his life, his daughter, and anything worth selling. I'm sure the fucker was damned near broke before he died, with nothing but a police pension paying the bills. They'd have doubled down on the girl for sure. Would've made her earn every fuckin' penny if she'd fallen into their paws.”

  I pushed a growl down my throat before it could come ou
t. The thought of anybody putting a bag over Cora's head and carting her off to the highest bidder made my fists hungry.

  Wanted to smash them into the nearest punching bag 'til I put my hands straight through and spat sawdust all over the damned place.

  Finally, shit was starting to make some sense. Too bad it only pissed me off more.

  “So, how bad are we fucked when they find out your old drinking buddy's dead, and we're hiding his daughter, Prez?” Typical Skin. The man asked all the right questions, and then he never fucking quit.

  “About as fucked as you're gonna be if we don't stop worrying about shit that hasn't happened yet,” I snapped. “We can handle their pissant joke of a club any day.”

  “They've got more boys to field than we do,” Joker said. His expression lit up like he enjoyed us being outnumbered – more men for the sick puppy to kill.

  “You think I don't know that? We kicked the Deads square in the nuts last year, and they're a whole lot bigger than either of us! We can deal. We always find a way.”

  “Enough.” Dust's gavel slapped the wood, banging hard like a gunshot. “We're not fighting the Torches. We're making sure Cora's safe and happy. I'm not planning on locking us into any either-or shit.”

  Everybody looked at him like he'd just told us we were all getting a year's supply of free booze and supermodel pussy.

  “You wanna elaborate?” I asked, edging on disrespect.

  Nothing made sense anymore.

  Fuck if I didn't want to hit something right now – almost as bad as I wanted to march back to my room and get that girl who'd caused this mess naked, wet, and grinding on my dick.

  “You heard me. We'll make it work. Keep her on the down low. The Torches'll be so pissed when they find out Jimmy died before they could get a piece, chances are they won't even worry about his daughter.”

  “What about her?” I asked, wondering who the fuck was saying those words.

  Pussy hadn't ever been my concern before, except how quick it would take me to get up inside it. Something about Cora's case hit me deep, plunged into me like a fucking knife, and twisted itself around 'til I had to ask about shit I'd have never bothered with before.

  “We'll keep her close. Give the girl something to do,” Dust said, leaning forward and blowing out a long trail of smoke.

  That strong, southern shit he smoked could've burned down half of Dixie. Instead, it was trapped in the room with us, reminding us who was boss – even when he went fucking crazy.

  “Already got a few ideas,” Skin said with a nod. “Talked to my old lady earlier. Why don't we get her a job at the new joint? Meg's going crazy managing all the dumb bitches there. She'd kill for another chick who's had some college and has her head screwed on straight.”

  I wanted to laugh in his fucking face. That little girl stuffed up in my room probably hadn't thought much about fucking outside the dirty books chicks like her always read.

  She'd already gotten fucked outta her teaching job. Sure, she'd jump at the chance to work in a damned strip club, managing a buncha skanks who rode half the guys wearing our patch for extra tips, right? Shit, I'd fucked a few of 'em myself.

  Yeah, I thought, about the same chance as you sobering your ass up, hanging up the cut, and becoming a monk.

  “Something else,” I said, locking eyes with the Treasurer. “She's a good girl. No fuckin' way am I gonna tell her she's got a great new job picking out thongs and selling drinks to guys who try to jack off in their seats.”

  “No need,” the Prez growled, aiming his next line of smoke at my face. “I'll handle it, Firefly. The girl deserves that much, a heart-to-heart, seeing how I wasn't able to stop her old man from killing himself, practically in front of her.”

  “Shit, that's fucked,” Sixty murmured, pulling his goatee.

  Like we don't all know that, asshole? These were the times when I wanted to walk outta church and find the closest bottle.

  The whole damned situation was past recovery, however you cut it. Everybody was sitting here pretending to give a shit while they decided her future. Fuck.

  “She's doing me a solid, watching my dog.” Joker broke the stony silence.

  Crawl looked at him and snickered, his long, dark hair flopping over his face. Veep looked like he was ready to whip out that switchblade he always played with and tear him open like a fish.

  Sixty punched his closest brother in the side, shutting him up, and redeeming the boy just a little bit in my eyes. Skin, Sixty, and Crawl had their own little posse going. They managed to keep each other from getting their asses kicked.

  “Keep laughing,” Joker said, a wicked smile spreading across his crazy face.

  “No, VP, you've got yourself a pooch to look after. You'd better promise me that animal ain't gonna tear this clubhouse apart. Expect him to learn some respect and behave – just like the rest of you.”

  Half the guys sank into their seats. Me, I sat up straighter, giving Dust the look he was waiting for.

  Are we done?

  “Church dismissed. We'll meet again at the pig roast later this week, or else the instant I hear about any Torches fucking around in our neighborhood when they shouldn't be.”

  Thank fuck. I was outta my chair first, bolting for the door, when somebody locked onto my arm like a damned monkey.

  I spun around to see it was the Prez. Shit!

  He didn't let go 'til all the other guys left the room. Then he emptied the burned tobacco from his pipe into the ash tray and stood up.

  “You handle her as best you can, and don't get too attached. Jimmy was all twisted up before he died, but once upon a time, he was my best friend. I'll die before I let his little girl get one iota more fucked up than she already is – and that includes any man in this club slipping his dick in her when he knows damned well he shouldn't.”

  Fuck! I could feel an invisible boot nailing me square in the nuts. Bastard must've been psychic, reading my mind so well it chilled my bones something fierce.

  “What? You think I don't have pussy lined up right and left? I fuck more than any man here.”

  “And you'd better keep on doing it, just as long as none of your bitches are named Cora Chase. I'm not blind, Firefly. I've seen how you've been looking at her from the second we pulled her out of that shitshow at the house. You're hungry, boy, and that's dangerous.” His hand slid across all the little silver crosses flanking the side rocker on his cut. Some say each one stood for a dozen guys he'd personally put down, and others said only one.

  All for the patch. No man wore PRESIDENT on his leather unless he'd killed and bled for it. That went double for Dust, taking the gavel right after Early took a bullet to the guts.

  “Dangerous?” I cocked my head, chewing on the word.

  “Yeah, asshole. For you.”

  “Fuck, Prez, you act like I'm some half-starved jackal aching for some cunt that'd probably need training wheels to fuck right. She ain't my type. Not even fucking close.”

  I'd never told a bigger lie in my life. Prez must've smelled it because he wrinkled his nose.

  “Last warning I'm giving you, Firefly. Last and only. You're the only other guy with this patch who put time in with Uncle Sam besides me. You know promises and duty like your own fuckin' asshole. I expect you to keep your word.”

  “You know I will. I'm here to help her un-fuck herself – not fuck her.”

  My dick throbbed when I spat each miserable word. Lies, lies, lies.

  I'd have to put a fucking choke-chain on the unruly bastard in my pants, the only thing in this world insane enough to make me lie to the Prez's face about my caveman intentions.

  “You'd better. I'm not asking you to cross your heart and hope to die, brother.” He rounded the table, his eyes falling over the Civil War heirlooms and World War II trinkets he kept framed on the wall, buried in all the club history. Then he stopped, looked up, and pointed at my chest.

  “I'm telling you, Firefly. You'll do as I say with this so you don't
get your fucking dick snapped off.” He turned around, reaching for some fresh tobacco to stuff into his pipe. “Get the hell out of here. Make sure she's all right. Tell her I'll be down tomorrow to talk to her about the job.”

  “Whatever you say, Cap'n.”

  I turned around and marched out the door. Hoped to Christ his threat was enough to make me keep it in my pants for once.

  Deep down, Cora deserved better. But all I could think about was burying myself in her, sinking my dick so low I fucked away every filthy thing she'd suffered.

  Yeah, I'd always had a demon on my shoulder who had the upper hand when it came to conscience. And he vowed he'd burn my dick to ashes if I didn't find a way to fuck this beautiful blonde girl, consequences be damned.

  My dick ached, knowing it was a goner by blue ball hellfire or by the Prez's knife. Helluva choice.

  My room was dark when I stepped inside it. Something big stood up, startling the shit outta me. I almost pulled my gun.

  Then I remembered.

  “Fuck me and call me wolfie,” I muttered under my breath, watching as the Veep's new dog shuffled over to my girl on the bed and licked her face.

  My girl? Shit. I gotta stop calling her that.

  Cora jolted up and rubbed her eyes when she felt his thick tongue rolling on her cheek. She reached down, scratching the animal's head while she slung her long, beautiful legs over the bed.

  She looked at me and scowled. “What do you want?”

  “To wake your ass up.” I reached for the light switch on the wall and flicked it on.

  She covered her eyes as the dim bulbs hummed alive. The pooch whined, walked to the door, and put his huge paw against it, scratching 'til I let him out.

  We both watched the big ass dog wander into the clubhouse, searching for his new master.

  “Seriously, babe, I'm here to talk.”

  “I'm not sure there's anything we have to talk about,” she said, folding her arms around herself protectively.