Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love)

by Snow, Nicole

  Grandpa Taylor tore his hand away from him, shaking a little when I put the tray on the table. “It's all here, boys. Enjoy.”

  I sipped my orange soda quietly, trying to make small talk about the dog, and failing the whole time. Grandpa guzzling his coffee down, without waiting for it to cool, told me the visit was nearing its end.

  “Okay,” he said, putting down his empty cup. “Think it's time I got some rest before the real bingo starts up tonight. Pleasure meeting you, Summer. Joker, wheel me back, and take the lady out for a real drink. Life's too damned short to spend it not having any fun.”

  So much truth from the tough old man. Too bad I was in no position to take it to heart.

  “Meet me out by the bench,” I said to Joker. “I'll be waiting.”

  He nodded, wrapping the dog's leash around his hand while he pushed the old man. I watched the three of them head down the hall, finishing my soda before I collected the cups.

  Then I sat down at the bench and waited. I thought about what I'd say, bounced around a dozen openers. None of them left me feeling better.

  I had to let it happen. I couldn't let him walk away this time, or I'd be letting down Alex, and myself.

  Time to make it or break it.

  * * *

  “Tell me why the fuck you're really here,” Joker growled, standing over my shoulder. “Couldn't have made it fuckin' clearer after yesterday, mucking up your shit.”

  Bingo stood at his side, his mouth open, breathing loudly. Blissfully unaware.

  I stood up, looked him dead in the eye, clenching my purse. “I came all the way from Georgia to talk, Joker. I'm not leaving until we do. Go ahead and push me down on the sidewalk if you have to. I'll get back up and I'll be at your doorstep again tomorrow.”

  He snorted. “Fucking-A, you've really lost it, Summertime...”

  That name again. Goddamn, that name.

  It took everything I had not to break eye contact, my heart doing a full, painful loop in my chest, blurring past and present.

  “I lost my best friend,” I said, stepping toward him. “Look, I know my odds. They're crap. But I'll die if I don't try to get him back.”

  “You really want him back, babe? That's what you came all the fuckin' way from Seddon for? Why didn't you say so sooner?” He stepped closer, his voice softening.

  My heart leaped into my throat. We hadn't shared this closeness, this intensity, for three lonely summers. The way he looked at me took me back to those hot nights when we'd made Alex, the son he didn't know he had.

  The bitter lump in my throat tightened. There couldn't be something there, shining in his eyes...right? And if there was, then why the fuck was I letting the Deadhands use me to get to him and his club?

  “I just...I mean...I want...” I stuttered, completely lost for words, not knowing what I wanted anymore.

  “You don't know what the hell you want.” Joker put one hand against my cheek, tipped it up, thumbing the corner of my lips. “Don't fuckin' talk, baby girl. Pucker up. Let's see if there's anything left in this fuckin' chasm I used to call a heart.”

  His finger brushed aside. His mouth came down on mine, hot and rampant.

  Moaning, I melted into his tongue, twining mine with his for the first time in an eternity.

  This kiss devoured worlds. I forgot all about the brutal threats, the pain, the loss.

  For the next minute, there was nothing except Jackson and me.

  Two lips.

  Two tongues.

  Two hearts.

  One pulse, the one and only synchronized rhythm pounding in his flesh. It didn't stop until Bingo brushed up against our legs, and then I looked down, smiling.

  This kiss was beautiful. And it was also very dangerous bullshit.

  “There. How was that?” he whispered softly, running his hand down my cheek, stopping at the end to clutch my chin.

  “Just like old times,” I said weakly, staring at him, one hand on his neck to hold me up. The other hung at my side, being gingerly licked by the giant wolfhound. “What about you?”

  “Nothing,” he said. The spark in his eyes snuffed out, obliterating the magic.

  “What?”

  “There's nothing here, Summertime. Absolutely fuckin' nothing. I tried.” He tugged on Bingo's leash and stepped away, pulling his cut flush against his chest. “For the last goddamned time, get your ass home. You're wasting your time here chasing a crush that's never coming back. You show your face around my grandpa's place or the clubhouse again, I'll make sure a couple prospects give you a ride back to Georgia.”

  I stood there like a dumb statue about to fall, watching the whole time as he walked to his truck without looking back. He put the dog in the passenger seat, got in, and took off, driving right past me without even turning his head.

  “Bastard!” I whispered, balling up my fists, fighting the hot tears.

  A chubby middle aged couple came close, staring intently, one more humiliation I didn't need. I'd been a complete fool for the second time since I'd shown up here.

  And yet again, I'd failed to make any progress getting closer to whatever Hatch wanted. I'd put my life and my son's one step closer to a horrific end.

  “Jackson Taylor...go to hell,” I whispered, taking long, angry strides toward my car.

  I promised myself I wouldn't feel guilty about putting him there anymore, if it kept us safe. Now, if only I could figure out how the hell to do it.

  * * *

  “Brrrrrrrr!” Alex sat in the corner at our hotel room later that evening, playing with a couple toy planes I'd brought along on the trip.

  I smiled feebly at him, trying to enjoy the little things. At least he was happy.

  If only that meant something. With the sword hanging over our heads, even my son's little laugh and vroom-vroom noises couldn't cheer me up.

  My phone buzzed a second later. I picked it up and sighed, wondering how badly he'd torment me tonight, stepping into the bathroom so Alex wouldn't have to see the horror on my face.

  “How'd it go today, bitch? You suck him off yet, or what?”

  “No. I'll try again tomorrow.”

  “Try? Try?! Try, try, fuckin' try?” Each word hit my eardrum, more explosive than the last. I held the phone away from my ear.

  “Jesus fuckin' Christ, woman. You're even dumber than I thought. Sure wish that sonofabitch picked a smarter cunt to fuck all those years ago. Some bitch with a bigger fire under her ass over the fact that, fuck, her own fuckin' son is gonna die in front of her!”

  “Please, Hatch. You don't understand. It isn't as easy as you –“

  “Shut up. From where I'm sitting, you're the stupid fuckin' slut who ain't hearing me. Let's try this again...”

  No, no, no, I mouthed, shaking my head. You've tortured me enough. This isn't making it any easier, you bastard.

  “You fuck me over, you waste my club's money, then you and your kid are dead. Dead! Fuckin' offal. Carcasses we'll drag out into the woods and feed to the bugs.”

  No more. I flung the phone away from my face and cut him off, ending the call, slamming it down on the counter next to the sink.

  He must've called back at least five times while I sat at the edge of the tub, hands over my face, trying to think of some way out of this maze from hell.

  This was hopeless. There wasn't truly a chance at ever satisfying this demon out for blood.

  Come tomorrow – hell, maybe later tonight – I'd take my chances on the open road. I'd flee until we were several states over, turn ourselves into the police there, and hope that taking down the Deadhands was a big enough deal to get us into the best witness protection a confession could buy.

  On the sixth angry, vibrating ring, I picked up. I had to stall him, see how he'd react to the realization that he'd already lost me as a pawn.

  “Listen to me, you fuckin' bitch –“

  “No, you listen!” I snarled into the phone, pressing it against my ear so hard it burned. “I want to know som
ething from you. Why are you such a fucking monster? These stupid gang fights are really so important that you're using an innocent woman and her baby? Is that what you always wanted?”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then he began to laugh.

  Jesus.

  His long, drawling chuckle was just as evil as the rest of him. But it gave me a tiny sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't so pissed I'd have a nice head start before his men came.

  “Really, Summer-Bummer? You think you can lecture me? Me? The man who's fuckin' mowed down bitches and brats several times over?”

  “Why?” I whispered, begging for an answer, truly wondering through all the terror smothering my heart.

  “Because I'm God, bitch. G-O-fuckin'-D. I decide who lives, who dies, and who sucks my damned cock. It's just me and Betty G, together, and we are both hungry motherfuckers. Right now, the ones who die are the motherfuckers who ain't paying their dues to the only club that belongs in Dixie. The Pistols are fucked because they're bad for business. That's it. So are you.”

  I couldn't tell if he was genuinely insane or just eaten up with greed like a bad cancer. Honestly, that made him even more terrifying.

  “Whatever. I can see what god you really worship,” I said.

  “Fucking shit, didn't call you up for a talk about theology. Here, why don't you do me a favor and get off the pot. Go by the TV and take a good, long look at little Alex.”

  What the hell was he talking about? How did he know I was in the bathroom?

  Jesus, he wasn't here, was he?

  In less than a dozen words, he destroyed what little desperate courage I'd pulled from my depths. I stood numbly, leaving the bathroom, the phone blazing against my blood filled ear like a glowing coal.

  “Little closer. Easy, now. Ain't gonna pop any heads unless you give me a fuckin' reason to,” he growled, urging me forward.

  Alex was still holding his toy planes, taking a break from his vigorous play. He looked up at me and smiled. Such a beautiful, innocent grin.

  One I would've normally beamed back – if only there weren't a killer whispering in my ear.

  “You see it yet?”

  I didn't until it moved. Then the red dot, like something from a laser pointer, except dime sized, crawled across the toy jumbo jet on the ground next to Alex's little thigh. It crept across the floor slowly, about as slow as my eyes bugged out of my head, stopping just short of landing on my son.

  “What you're looking at, bitch, because I know you're too fuckin' dumb to know, is the laser attached to the gun that puts your kid in pieces right in front of you.”

  “No...” I barely made a sound, shaking my head, not sure whether I should throw myself over it or try to grab Alex and run.

  “I know you're getting restless. I know you're thinking about taking off on me, running before you've done the job we sent you up there to do. I know your panties are filling up with shit right now, wondering what the fuck I'm gonna do.” He paused. “Believe it or not, I don't wanna fuckin' kill you, or the brat. I want you to shut up, get with Joker, and do whatever the fuck it takes to stop me from telling my man to pull the trigger. Sooner you figure out you don't have a choice, we're all better off.”

  The bastard was right. I really didn't.

  He was one, two, maybe five steps ahead of me.

  Always, god damn it. Always.

  There wasn't any running while he had this man following us, ready to shoot whenever Hatch told him to.

  “Okay,” I said, feeling myself floating above my body the instant I said it. I'd come uncoupled, the only thing I could do to survive the horror. “I'll try again.”

  “Yeah, you will. You'll try harder. Because if you don't...” He stopped, inhaling a deep breath. “Bam!”

  I winced. The red dot on the floor flashed one more time, and then disappeared.

  “You've got two more days, Summer-Bummer. Corner him, fuck him, show up at his doorstep asking to borrow a cup of sugar. Whatever the fuck you have to do to get good with him, you fuckin' do it. Nothing less. You get close enough to count how many fuckin' hairs he's got on his balls. Close enough to ask him anything, and jump when we say go.”

  The line went dead. So did my soul.

  “Mama?” Alex looked at me, a tiny frown on his face. He couldn't understand any of this, and thank god for that.

  I walked over, scooped him up, and held him tighter than I had since before all this began. We sat on the bed while he lazily played with my hair.

  Tomorrow, another level of hell waited. Tomorrow, I had to do anything and everything I could think of to save his life.

  Mine didn't matter anymore.

  The biggest mistake of my life wasn't the demon who kept calling and threatening me. I'd already made it six years ago, when I'd let myself fall for the rough, dirty boy who'd given me a ride home.

  It wasn't Hatch's fault. It wasn't mine.

  Goddamn it, this was Joker's fault. If he hadn't gotten so close, given me this kid I loved, driving me to my wit's end...

  Closing my eyes, I sat there holding my baby boy, just reflecting. No, maybe I'd been too harsh. Too crazed.

  Whatever mistakes I'd made, Alex hadn't been one of them. He was the only good thing that ever happened to me.

  I had to keep him alive and smiling. Fucking had to.

  He gripped my hand, his eyelids drooping in that sleepy, lovable way they always did when he got tired. I rocked him gently, hoping he'd go to sleep.

  Hoped even more I'd force a miracle. There had to be some combination of words and actions on this earth I could use to get close to Joker.

  Didn't stop my poor, savaged brain from drawing a complete blank. I was still struggling to fight through it, kicking myself, drowning in my frustration when I heard the motorcycle growl in the parking lot outside.

  Alex woke up, jerked in my arms, and a man screamed outside. I held my baby tighter, standing up, trying to see what was happening out there.

  Then all hell broke off its chain and came flying through the window.

  6

  Restless (Joker)

  Several Hours Earlier

  I fuckin' lied to her face, lied to myself, and even lied in front of my dog.

  When I put my lips on Summer's, I'd been more at peace than when I cracked a hundred skulls. She brought me back to the time before Freddy died, before things went to shit.

  The past was supposed to be dead. Gone. Standing next to her, it sure as hell wasn't.

  That freaked me the fuck out.

  I had to keep her away. Had to tell her I was as dead as I pretended, before she got her hooks into me. Had to avenge my brother, the only fuckin' thing that mattered, and I couldn't handle any goddamned distractions right now.

  Soon as I pulled outta the parking lot, I headed for the Ruby Heel. Twenty minutes later, I had a mug of beer in my hand and I sat under Honey-Bee, watching her snow queen act.

  She swung across the stage on a high swing, wearing those heels I wanted stabbing my ass, blowing handfuls of fake snow across the tiny crowd. From the corner of my eye, I saw two old ladies staring at me with sour puss frowns on their faces.

  Meg, Skin's old lady.

  Cora, Firefly's wife, her belly swelling by the day with the kid they were having.

  Fuck them both. They didn't own me. If I wanted to bang Honey-Bee backstage tonight, they weren't fuckin' stopping me.

  Only trouble was, I couldn't get hard. Not even when Honey-Bee came down to the floor, floating on her strings, giving every man here a perfect view of an ass so round I wanted to sink my teeth in.

  That's what I would've wanted any other night, anyway. Tonight?

  Fuck, it was different, and I didn't know why. Even flashing her long lashes at me and blowing a kiss didn't do shit for my cock.

  What the fuck was wrong with me? Bingo sat by my side, his tongue hanging out. Damned dog looked more interested in the stripper than I did.

  I took a long
pull from my beer, grabbed a bone in my pocket, and put it into his mouth.

  “Helluva mutt you got there,” an old man in a leather jacket with a Harley emblem said.

  I looked at him and snorted. If these fucking casual riders weren't filling up the Pistols' coffers with the money they spent here, I'd have stood up and walked the other way.

  “He's no mutt, asshole,” I growled, hating how he looked at my next fuck with more intensity than I did. “Pure bred Irish Wolfhound.”

  “Shit, man, what's eating you?”

  I stood up. Soon as he saw the patches on my cut, his face lit up, and he quickly moved several chairs over.

  Nobody was stupid enough to start shit with a full patch brother. These wannabe badasses always ran just as soon as they came face to face with real outlaws.

  Didn't take any pleasure in scaring away the chickenshit. Like most nights, I just wanted to be left the fuck alone.

  Honey-Bee still had her hungry little eyes on me as her act wound down. I wasn't looking at her anymore, dead to feeling it, thinking about Summer the whole damned time.

  Fuck.

  “Come on, boy. Let's get the fuck outta here.” I took the bone away from Bingo and hauled him up on his feet, walking him outta the bar.

  Meg was standing by the door on my way out, a tall brunette who always dressed too fuckin' fancy for any brother. Fancy, yeah, except for the PROPERTY OF SKIN jacket she wore like a second skin.

  “What's going on? Leaving already?” she asked, like she couldn't believe it.

  “Yeah. Put the beer on my tab.”

  “Smart choice, Joker. Honey-Bee doesn't need any trouble. She's been jerked around enough by you and Lion lately.”

  Lion? The beat up, scruffy motherfucker we'd only patched in about a month ago?

  Shouldn't have been surprised she was taking whatever cock she could get. The woman was voracious.

  Shit. Whatever urge I had left to fuck the stripper totally evaporated. If only she'd known he'd had his cock buried in more of the bitches here than I did.

  “She's a big girl,” I said, pushing past her on my way out. “Don't think she needs her boss playing big sis, telling what she should and shouldn't do.”