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

by Snow, Nicole

  Shit. I didn't say anything for several seconds, not 'til I turned and handed her the heavy bag.

  “Make sure everything's in there. Next stop is my bike so I can take you home.” Her face wilted, and she nodded glumly as she realized I wasn't gonna tell her shit. Not before we got outside, anyway.

  When her bag was stuffed into my Harley's trunk and I handed her the helmet, I let it spill. None of the brothers were around to hear shit, but I still would've said it, even if they were.

  “Babe, I'm dead serious about you figuring out the reward. I threw the club a bone to get them off your ass, but they're gonna be right back on it soon if you delay too long. Here's a burner.” I reached into my pocket, and passed her a cheap pre-paid flip phone, the kind we always used for jobs that had to stay anonymous. “You call me anytime. Any trouble, any update, or when you've got the cash, ready to go. And yeah, it's gotta be cash, stacked up neatly in a briefcase or thrown into a damned barrel. I don't give a shit. Just get it to me, and you'll never hear from me again.”

  “Understood.” She took the phone and pinched her eyes shut. I couldn't tell if she was sick from the renewed worries I'd just given her, or if it seriously hurt her to think about a life without me.

  I inwardly snorted. Dream on, you poor, lovestruck bastard.

  “Hope you don't need to give them much notice. I'll drop you off wherever, right outside the gate or in your own driveway, just say the word. Hold on tight.” I made sure she had her hands around my waist before my bike's engine roared.

  We headed out into the mountains, the autumn breeze nipping at my cheeks. At least it wasn't raining like the night I'd rescued her, soaking us all down to the bone.

  I tried to think about anything except the beautiful, broken woman riding on my bike. She'd come through for us in a few days. I didn't doubt it one bit. I'd meet her one more time, then drop the money for the Prez, and he'd throw one fuck of a party.

  We'd have girls, booze, more hogs and steaks on the fire than we could even eat. We'd gorge ourselves on good times and brotherly love. We'd drink the evening away, and fuck ourselves raw at night, cuddling up with two or three girls at a time, just like the good old days.

  I'd have some hot brunette with ice blue eyes riding my dick while another one bucked her pussy on my mouth. It should've been enough to make my dick throb while we bounced up and down the mountain roads.

  It always was before. Hell, it was all I'd ever known before Megan, before killing Ricky, before I fell on my ass into this big goddamned mess.

  So, why the fuck didn't it cut it anymore? Why did thinking beyond this bullshit just fill me with numb, gray dread?

  I clenched my jaw, gritting my teeth, throttling the bike harder on the next bend. She held me tighter, pulling herself instinctively closer to stay steady and safe. I slowed as soon as I realized she didn't need to ride this hard.

  But damn if her hands didn't stay tight when we were coming off the highest slopes. If anything, she was digging her fingers into me, just like she'd done last night.

  Last night, our only night together. All I'd have to remember her by, and all I'd ever give her to remember me.

  I'd fucked her so damned hard, but I wanted to do more. I wanted to fuck her a dozen times more, each time harder than the last, the only thing that might stand a tiny chance at driving her outta my system.

  I knew then I was really and truly fucked.

  Thinking about the woman riding bitch behind me was what really set my balls on fire. Not an orgy with three whores wearing too much lip gloss and silicon in their tits.

  Meg was all natural, all woman, and I wanted her to be mine.

  She turned me on like no woman ever had. When we fucked, I was fucking to leave marks, a makeshift brand on her that would tell the whole damned world I owned her. I fucked to make her convulse and scream herself hoarse. Mostly, I fucked to make her shout my name, the only name I ever wanted hanging on her lips while she pinched her arms and legs around me tight and lost control.

  Yeah, it was insane, stupid, and a thousand shades of wrong. Just then, I didn't give a single shit.

  I squeezed my bike's bars so damned hard the vibrations of the road shook my heart, and it still wasn't enough to wipe her outta my system.

  I didn't give a fuck about senseless. I only cared about keeping her safe, keeping her in my world, never letting go. My eyes followed the faded lines on the road 'til I was almost in a trance, all I could do to keep myself from pulling into the nearest lookout, dragging her into the woods, and making her realize I hadn't said shit about my payment.

  The money was for the club. She'd handle that one way or another. Me?

  I wanted her naked and fused to my cock, legs spread wide while I rammed my dick into her and emptied every last drop of come from my balls in her pussy, her mouth, all over her perfect fucking skin.

  I'd saved her several times. Something about that made it even more fucked up that I wanted to ruin her, wanted to drag her away from her prissy little world forever, into the darkness with me. I wanted her in my bed forever, the bed she belonged in, where she'd wear my brand and call me her old man. And she'd fucking love it every time.

  Fuck. I shook off the twisted fantasies long enough to see the signs growing more frequent.

  We were approaching Knoxville when I spied the little filling station. I made a hard turn into it. Filled up my half-depleted tank, everything I'd need for the ride home, when I had a lot less precious cargo on my bike and a whole lot more hell on my brain.

  Meg never even got off to stretch. She was staring down at the pavement when I paid and got back on the bike, ready for the home stretch.

  “Babe, you should be the happiest woman in the world when you get home and that gate slams shut behind you. Why the fuck don't you look it?”

  “I can't forget last night,” she said, looking up and locking eyes with me. “I'll never forget you, Skin. What we did...”

  She gnawed at her bottom lip. My whole cock ached, remembering what those sweet lips felt like gliding along my flesh.

  Fuck me. Of all the excuses I'd expected her to give, it wasn't that.

  I reached up and palmed her face, feeling her sweet cheek on my fingers. If only for the last time.

  “No regrets, yeah? I wouldn't have done shit if I knew it was gonna make you hurt more. You need to get over everything that happened and live your life, baby. It won't be easy. But you'll do it. You're one helluva woman – a survivor. Anything you do after all the shit you've suffered is gonna feel like a stroll instead of a frantic fucking sprint to the bitter end.”

  “I know,” she said softly, rubbing her face into my skin. “It's the end I'm worried about. The end of us...before we've even started. I mean, if there was an us. You know what I mean, yeah?”

  My eyes narrowed. She had me by the balls, but I played dumb. Showing her any of the flames pouring through my blood right now wouldn't do a damned lick of good.

  It would only make it harder to close the book on this, harder for her to heal, to forget, to move the fuck on like she needed to.

  “I know two healthy people shared a bed for a few nights and did what people do. That's it. It ain't nothing to worry about, woman, and it sure as shit ain't anything to cry over.”

  Fuck if my words did any good when I felt the warm, salty wetness rolling down my finger, a single teardrop slipping out the corner of her eye.

  I wiped it away and squeezed her cheek one more time, drawing my face into hers. “Give me one more kiss. One for the road.”

  She did. We kissed long and hard, absorbed in this wild thing we had, oblivious to the impatient prick in the pickup behind us, waiting for my pump. I pulled her into me and really fucking kissed her.

  Hotter and harder than the night before. More intense than I'd ever kiss a woman for as long as I lived, tracing her tongue with mine for a few sweet seconds, then leading it around and around in a dance we'd both dream about 'til we jerked awake in a cold sweat
.

  “I'm not going to forget this,” she said, her voice a harsh whisper.

  “No, you won't, but you're not gonna let it fuck up the rest of your life. I won't let you, babe.” I grabbed her face, traced her jawline, pressed my fingers in 'til I stopped and felt her tremble. “This is the kiss that sets you free. Nothing more. Now, strap on your helmet and hold me tight. You're going home.”

  I could hear the strain on her voice when we roared through Knoxville and hit the streets leading to the prime acreage tucked just outside the city's good side. She gave me directions, and I took them like a man, hating every fucking word coming outta her mouth because they were leading us closer to the end.

  The real end. Everything she feared, and everything I'd fought too damned hard not to acknowledge.

  The street lights were on by the time we hit the country and rode by the big houses. She leaned into me, resting her soft face on my shoulder, whispering the last few digits to look for in my ear.

  I saw them coming up on a big stone wall, glittering in gold, markers to my private hell. My bike jerked to a stop, later than I wanted because it was so fucking hard to let her go.

  “You got a way to tell them to open up, or what?”

  She gave me one last squeeze and hopped off my bike, shooting me a look like I'd just talked nonsense. I knew I had a second later, when I saw the intercom built into the wall, next to those high iron bars. The gate was too tall, too sleek, too pointy for any man to climb over – not unless he was really determined.

  My mind started working, figuring out how the fuck to get through. Just in case I needed to, of course. I wasn't planning anything.

  Yeah, right, I heard inwardly, the passionate side of my brain about to snap the leash held by cold logic.

  “Helmet, babe!” I called after her, just as she grabbed her stuff and trotted quickly toward the gate.

  She spun around and flushed. The redness on her cheeks did terrible things to the spike between my legs. Fucking great. It was all I needed to see when I was doing my damnedest not to think about how much I'd miss her sweet cunt clenched every inch of me when she lost control.

  “Sorry,” she said softly, passing me the spare black helmet. “Seriously, Skin, I know this is hard, but I appreciate everything you've done for me. You'll get your money. I'll call you the second I've got it ready to go.”

  “You do that.” I reached for her hand, squeezing it tight, one last time I couldn't resist. “Get your shit together, Meg, whatever it takes. You've got a second chance, and I wanna see you in the papers in a few years, knocking the absolute piss outta anything you choose to take on. Ricky's rotting where he can never hurt you, and I'll make sure my boys deal with the Deads. You're free. This last little payment's just an afterthought.”

  She forced a smile. We both knew damned well the money was very important, but I wasn't gonna ruin the moment, even if I had to tell her a few white lies.

  She knew the truth. And I had a feeling she saw it in my eyes, everything I tried to bury, wishing it would go into the deep, dark earth as easily as the pimp's broken bones.

  “I wouldn't be here without you, Skin. Thank you, so much, from the bottom of my heart.”

  I let her throw her little arms around my neck and give me one last hug. When I was done enjoying her tits pressed close to my face one more time, I gave her a gentle push, putting on my angry rebel mask again.

  Wetness spattered my ear. At first, I thought she was turning on the waterworks again, but the thunder and darkness rolling in overhead said different. Thank God for small miracles, giving me the perfect excuse to wind this up clean.

  “Go on and get the hell inside. Last thing I need is you catching cold.”

  The last smile she flashed me was all real. I watched her run to the intercom and hold the button down, muttering a few words, soft and uneasy.

  I had my bike primed by the time the gate slid open, and two dark figures showed up on the distant doorstep to the big house, between the Greek columns. The taller silhouette took off, running toward her as she went through the opening, as fast as his legs would carry him.

  That was my signal to take off into the night, and I did.

  I rode the storm hard, moisture coalescing along the stubble on my face. Taking the mountain curves like a demon outside Knoxville, I smiled when the wind picked up. I opened my mouth and howled like a fucking demon, just as lightning cut the sky.

  I'd find a way to survive this chick, even if it killed me. I had to. No woman changed me or twisted me up in knots, much less this dove from a world I'd never understand, the world where she belonged.

  When I took this patch, I swore nobody would ever fuck me over, much less myself.

  If blackening my heart was the price of giving Meg a second chance, then I'd do it. I'd make myself so hard and cold that even Joker would look at me like I'd gut his ass over a dirty look.

  VII: Home Sweet Home (Megan)

  “Megan?! It's really you, isn't it? Oh, God!”

  Daddy's arms couldn't stop shaking as he threw them around me and threatened to squeeze the life out of me. He held me tight, a familiar, happy hold I hadn't experienced since I graduated High School, back when I was his perfect princess.

  Too bad the only embrace I could feel was Skin's. His were the only lips I thought about when I watched my dad's moving, praising God for my return, blasting me with a thousand and one questions.

  I already missed him, and he'd barely been gone for five minutes. How fucked up was that?

  I didn't have time to think long about the past. Somewhere in Dad's embrace, Mom's kisses began to hit me, the last straw I needed before I officially broke down.

  We stood in the rain for a long time, a family reunion bittersweet to the core. By the time they finally let up long enough to let me walk toward the house with them, I wondered where I truly belonged.

  The huge family estate loomed over me like something from a dream. It didn't feel like home anymore, and it didn't feel safe either.

  The only place I'd ever found that was in his arms, and now he was gone from my life forever.

  “Start over, Miss Wilder. Tell us everything again, this time from the top.” Investigator Harlow shot me an easy look and put his finger on the camera's red on button.

  It was the third fucking time that day I'd been asked to give a statement. So much for rest, much less easing back into my old life.

  They'd been waiting for me when Mom brought me back from the clinic that morning. The doctors were thorough – what else when they were the best money could buy?

  I'd gotten a clean bill of health. No STDs, no broken bones, no bleeding ulcers.

  No surprise, my parents were already pushing me to take a therapy retreat to clear my mind. Really, I think they just wanted to stamp out the bruises left by my trauma as soon as possible so they could have their bratty, carefree daughter back.

  “It's okay, honey. Just do what the nice man says, and you'll be off to Georgia before you know it.” Dad reached over and squeezed my hand.

  His smile seemed so brittle. Mom left the room after the first statement, unable to hide her horror when she heard about everything that happened to me.

  They didn't know what to do except send me away to a spa in Georgia with orchards a plenty and world class psychologists. Hearing about the savage abuse I'd suffered brought tears and anger at first, but then it brought total paralysis, weak little looks from my mom and dad like I'd been tarnished forever.

  They didn't know how to bring me back to life. Hell, neither did I, but this endless interrogation wasn't helping.

  “You heard it all the first two times,” I snapped. “What else is there to say? Here, let me break it down for you – I was kidnapped, pimped out for six months of my life, and sold to a man on the black market one state over. I never found out his name. I don't know anything except what Ricky said, and it wasn't much. He couldn't even bother driving me down there himself.”

  “Yes,
yes, you told us all about the trucker spa. We're well aware it's been a seedy prostitution racket for years.”

  Really? Then why the fuck didn't you raid it and close it down? I thought, chewing my bottom lip.

  I swore I could still taste traces of Skin there, the only thing that comforted me. He'd want me to be strong right now. No, he was counting on it so I didn't spill the truth about his club and land them all in a world of hurt.

  I had to take a few more of this asshole's questions without standing up and running off to my room.

  Harlow looked down at his notepad and frowned. “What doesn't add up, Miss Wilder, is why the place is totally closed down. Abandoned. Patrol says it's always been a twenty-four hour operation until now, but when my men showed up last night, there was nobody home. Not a single girl to corroborate your story. And no sign of Richard Proby to boot. It's like he's dropped off the face of the earth.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed, putting on my best face to hide the fact that I'd watched the pimp die. “Well, somebody obviously tipped him off. He must've found out about my escape, and knew I'd talk. I don't know where he is, honestly. I've been on the run for weeks, hiding out in the woods.”

  “Honey...” Dad's hand tightened on mine, begging me to keep composure.

  I ripped my arm away from his and looked at the detective. I didn't need his damned sympathy. I didn't need anything right now except to be left the hell alone to recuperate.

  “And that's the part of the story I'd like you to repeat. It seems a lot of details are being glossed over, darling. You told me all about how the pimp beat you, sold you to other men, tried to break you. I believe that part, and I'm very sympathetic.” What bullshit. The look on his face was nothing but a frustrated man doing his job. “What doesn't add up is how you got away from his underlings...”

  “I already told you,” I said, looking right into the camera. “It was raining bullets. They stopped for gas, just before we hit the state line. The man in the front seat was fiddling with his gun. I saw my chance and I took it while the other two were using the bathroom. They didn't have the guts to chase me with bystanders around.”