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

by Snow, Nicole

  I was wide awake. The pain stiffened my resolve. The Devils and I didn't say much to each other – they understood what was on the line, and that was enough. The men glowered, half as intense as me, big bearded Moose looking into the darkness like a one-eyed viking sailing toward Valhalla.

  We took turns driving, following the convoy of bikes all the way to Redding. We finally veered off toward a remote spot near Shasta Lake, just north of town. Blackjack and the boys were using an old lake cabin as a base.

  Everybody took a breather for a few minutes after the long drive, and then filed in. Shit, and here I thought the tension between the Devils and I was thick. In the little makeshift cabin, it was fucking suffocating.

  Devils and Grizzlies eyeballed each other like warriors from separate worlds. One wrong move was all it'd take to make bullets or knives start flying, murdering the uneasy alliance we both needed.

  Rabid came up and slapped my back. “Welcome home, brother. I'm sorry as shit I couldn't get her out in time like Christa back there.”

  He pointed to the little bedroom. Fucking typical Rabid. If there was any pretty redhead who needed comforting, he was always the man for the job. Though I wasn't so sure how pretty she'd be after the brutal number Fang and his crew did on her.

  “There's still time,” I growled. “It's not over 'til Missy's outta that fucking dump and we've turned this club around for good.”

  A loud whistle silenced us before we could say anything else. Blackjack and Blaze were gathered at the little wooden table. All twenty guys from the two clubs coalesced in a circle.

  “Make a little room for Brass,” Blackjack growled. “He needs to see this.”

  Fuck. See what?

  I pushed my way through a couple big Grizzlies, taking my place next to the de facto Prez. Blackjack was holding a phone, his dark eyes glued to the screen.

  “Sorry, son. This just came in a few minutes ago.”

  He held it up for everyone to see, especially me.

  They had Missy in the dank fucking storage room, parked on the same rickety chair where they'd tortured Christa. Fang was behind her, his sharp knife with the custom bear claw handle at her throat.

  Don't fucking do it, don't fucking do it, don't...

  My vision started to blur to red again. My fists shook at my sides. For a second, it felt like the whole fucking universe was compressing into a tiny hot ball around me.

  Smaller, darker, and deader. My soul prepared to rocket outta my body and swing straight down to hell, screaming and killing anything that got in its way.

  The knife fell back. Not even a trickle of blood on her throat.

  Thank God.

  “You know the drill by now, assholes.” Fang's voice was more irritated than I'd ever heard it. “Different girl. Same terms. Except you've just cut your remaining time in half. You're down to five hours to comply. I expect the tape, the confession, and the rats by o-sixteen-hundred or I'll be carving two pieces off this cunt for being so troublesome. Starting with those pretty tits.”

  The video went blank, but not before I had a perfect shot of Missy's face. She looked eerily calm, numb, like her heart and mind had shut down to survive the world of pain coming her way.

  He was fucking hurting her, even if he hadn't laid a scratch on her yet. My fists burned, hungry to punch, choke, break, and kill.

  Just seeing Fang's rotten carcass wasn't enough for me anymore. I had to beat everybody else to the punch and kill him myself, or I'd never sleep again. Fuck.

  “Brass?” Blackjack, Blaze, and half the room stared at me.

  I swallowed my rage, saving it for later, nursing the swollen fireball in my stomach. “What's the plan?”

  “Direct assault,” Blaze pipped up. “It's the only fucking way. We gotta go for their throat, quick as we can, and hope we tear it out before we got a hundred fucking bears nipping at our legs.”

  Angry eyes fixed on the Devils' President. “No offense,” he added, diffusing tensions by half a degree. “Tank?”

  “No disagreement, boss. We don't have too many options, and waiting sure as fuck won't help.”

  “Wait.” Everybody looked at me, but I didn't meet their eyes.

  I was too busy staring through the small crowd, back towards the sad redhead in the bedroom. The door was open, and she was standing. Her back was turned to us and she was gazing out the window.

  “We know the video wasn't full proof,” I said. “Fang's guaranteed to have numbers on his side. Doubt half the charters believed it, especially since it came from the Devils.”

  “I don't see where you're going with this,” Blackjack said, furrowing his brow. “What the fuck, Brass?”

  I walked around the table and leaned into his ear. “Step in the back with me. I want her to hear it too.”

  Blaze followed, and I didn't stop him. He had every right to know what the fuck was up with his men on the line and two Grizzlies whispering to each other.

  The other men waited while we stepped into the room and closed the door behind us. Christa turned around. Her face was bad, scratched and puffy as shit. She'd been a pretty girl, and our former brothers had definitely fucked her up.

  Almost felt guilty for the shit I was about to propose, but it was the only thing that might save all our asses from getting slaughtered, plus Missy too.

  “Brass? What the fuck is this?” Blaze was getting impatient.

  I spilled it. Both their jaws hit the fucking floor when I laid it out. Christa listened silently.

  When I was finished, Blaze spun, slammed his fists on the wall. He turned back to face me, shaking his head. “You're outta your fucking mind. I know it's your old lady and nobody can think right when something like that's on the line. But, fuck, man, you're asking us to take one helluva risk with some chick who's already been through the grinder.”

  “I've got to agree with Blaze,” Blackjack said. “This is...”

  His face tightened. Fucking nuts, he was about to say, or something like it. He hesitated, trying to soften the blow for my sake.

  “Sorry, Brass,” he said. “Direct assault's the only way to clean this mess up and get your girl out. You know it.”

  “Stop,” Christa spoke, soft but determined. “I'll do it.”

  A couple hours later, everything was ready. Less than three hours to spare before the demon in our clubhouse started laying into my woman. Just enough time.

  Blackjack had every copy of the tape the Devils brought, and all the men were ready to ride.

  Rabid was still milling around the beat up redhead. I walked over, more than a little nervous he was about to talk some sense into her. Fuck, I couldn't force her to do shit if she pulled out, but if she did...we'd be fucked so bad there was nothing left to do but ride into a massacre.

  “You're sure you wanna do this?” Rabid watched her nod as I approached. “Fuck. You're a brave, brave girl. I'm gonna be right there with you, baby. No fucking way am I gonna let anybody drag you back where you don't belong. Those fucks will never get their paws on you again.”

  I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Where is it?”

  Rabid looked at me, smiled and pointed at the Harley several feet away. “She's all there. Got her out right in the nick of time, before Fang and company stole her, right before everything went to shit at the warehouse.”

  “Thank fuck. I'd have to skin all their greedy asses for sitting on my baby.”

  Rabid stayed with the redhead while I walked to my bike. Jesus, it had only been about a week, but it felt like half a fucking lifetime. The only thing sweeter than sliding onto my Harley again would be having Missy in my arms, and I was dead set on it.

  I swore to heaven and hell I'd put everything in my life back where it belonged.

  I couldn't wait to get my woman back, even more than I wanted to put a bullet in Fang's head for what he'd done. Love's a powerful fucking thing when it tames rage, tames hate, and everything else in between. There was a lot to snarl at in all this, but mostly
, I just wanted her home.

  She'd never get off my bike or outta my bed after this. Never. The first thing I was gonna do when I had her again was squeeze her so fucking tight she'd never dream about walking into harm's way for the rest of her life. Later, I'd spank her pretty ass raw for doing this.

  What I really missed was those lips. Their taste, their softness, their sweet flutter on mine like honest-to-fuck pixie wings.

  I'd been too soft, too distracted with club business. The realization hit me right between the eyes like a hot sword boring into my skull. Now, my entire soul bled for her, bled dirty red blood from a scalding wound that wouldn't close 'til I had what was mine pressed up against me again.

  There was no other cure. Nothing else would undo the damage I'd taken, my failure to keep what was mine close as my own gun.

  “Two hours!” Blackjack's voice howled near the front of the column. “Let's fucking go, boys.”

  A dozen engines growled, igniting as one, joined by a few stragglers at the end. I strapped on my helmet and felt the comforting purr of my Harley beneath me. She'd always been a fine war horse, and now I needed her to carry me to my girl.

  Blackjack pulled out first. We all hit the highway and rode down toward Redding. I was near the front with Rabid and the redhead on his bike, only separated by Blackjack and Blaze by Tank. It was a weird, motley platoon of sworn enemies riding toward hell, joined together in a fucked up marriage all about saving all the asses in the leather seats today. Motorcycles rumbled behind me, at least ten of them, and then a couple trucks from both clubs bringing up the rear.

  Blackjack agreed to meet Fang near a hilly wilderness outside town. We'd promised him everything, but we knew he'd be on alert for us fucking him over. Hoped like hell the ruse I had planned would be such a shock he wouldn't see it coming.

  It all came down to conscience. Fang didn't have one – some devil had ripped it outta him and chewed it up ages ago – but did the rest of the club? We were about to find out.

  The column slowed when we roared onto the unpaved road, heading for the forest clearing. They were parked by the trees. Legions waiting for us.

  Even my eyes bugged out when I saw how many Grizzlies Fang brought to cover his ass. Fuck, he must've had half the Tacoma and Portland charters, plus more brothers from Idaho. Basically, every able bodied man who wasn't busy getting killed down south by the cartel's raiders.

  Shit. There must've been a hundred guys to our fifteen, possibly more, and he was fully surrounded. Protected.

  Blaze and Blackjack stopped a few feet away, undaunted by the huge army facing them. I pulled up next to them and Rabid did too. My brother looked nervous as shit, keeping his hands on the redhead 'til she pulled away forcefully.

  My eyes scanned the guys next to Fang and Crack. Fuck, they were supposed to do the exchange here!

  Where the fuck was she? Where'd he put my girl? My heart forced adrenaline loaded waves into my blood. I shook, sweated, rubbed the nine millimeter in my belt.

  Easy, I told myself. They'll see that shit and hit you between the eyes before you take a single step forward if you make a dumb move.

  She's gotta be here somewhere. He wouldn't have left her at the clubhouse with nobody there on guard duty.

  I counted all the bastards who'd stuck with him from my club. Rough, Gnaw, Pitbull, Chubb...five more prospects past them. No, they were all there. That meant Missy had to be with them, tucked back in the crowd, maybe bound up in one of their fucking trucks.

  Blackjack looked at me and nodded. I walked with him and Blaze. Christa moved up several steps behind me. Rabid had to hang back, or else there'd be more guys on the other side coming to meet us besides Fang and Crack.

  Nobody wanted that shit. More brothers eyeball-to-eyeball meant more danger.

  “What the hell's this?” Fang grunted, stopping in the middle. “I asked for the video, the rats, and a confession. Didn't ask to see this fucking bitch again.”

  He spat at the ground. Blaze grabbed the small black package underneath one arm and threw it on the ground.

  “Here, asshole. Five copies. There's the master, plus the fucking camera it was shot on. That's everything.”

  Fang reached down and picked it up, grinning on his way up. He looked at me, and then at Blackjack.

  “Okay. Let's go, boys. We've got a nice trial ready out back with all your brothers. Promise we'll make it quick, just as soon as one of you fucks tells us straight up where that video came from.”

  Trial. Right. Never heard the shallow graves he probably had waiting in the woods called that before.

  I looked him in the eye and reached for the redhead, grabbing her hand. “I shot that fucking video,” I said loudly, making sure everybody could hear.

  “You never ordered the hit. The bastard was just a fucking freak trying to fuck my old lady's little sis. I killed him. I framed you. I fucked up.”

  Fang let out an angry laugh. “Damned right you did, kid! Hmmm, I suppose that's confession enough, but I'm still gonna want it on camera before we decide how to end this. Didn't think you'd give it up so easy.”

  He licked his lips. Fucker had murder written all over them.

  I smiled. “That's because I thought this was all harder and more complicated than it really is. I didn't see all the evidence of the shit you've done right underneath my nose.”

  “What fucking evidence?”

  I reached behind me and grabbed her, holding her in front of my chest. Christa flinched once, but then stood still, staring at the monster through her swollen eyes.

  “This. Take a good, long look, everybody. This is why we turned on national! This is why we'll never follow this motherfucker, as long as he's Prez!” I was screaming.

  Crack looked at me in a stupor, and Fang's eyes darkened. Didn't think it was possible for him to beam more hate, but he sure as fuck did. My hands loosened near her belly, holding on tight, ready to throw her down as soon as he let the demon inside him off its chain.

  “This is what our Prez does. He rips innocent girls to pieces. He kills anybody who disagrees with that shit, frames 'em as rats. He's too fucking busy fattening his own wallet off the blood this club's spilled to inspire us, and that's exactly why the cartel's running over our bodies. We beat 'em by being better than vermin. Right now, this club's just as brutal. Just as fucked up. Is that what you wanted for the Grizzlies MC when you put on that patch?”

  Silence. A long, tense, fiery quiet.

  The surprise on Fang's face shrank, slow and vicious, turning into volcanic anger. His hand flew to his hip, surprisingly spry for a man his age. I had exactly one second to throw Christa to the ground and keep her there while he fired.

  The gunshot echoed loud over the horizon. I waited for more, holding my breath, wondering if we were all about to die.

  “Shit!” Blaze cursed.

  I rolled, looked up, and saw the hole in Blackjack's thigh. He hit the ground, clenching his leg, blood pooling between his fingers. Fuck! Fang missed us, and hit the only man worth serving in this fucking club instead.

  One 'shit' spoken, and about a thousand more to go. Only way to describe the situation.

  Blackjack clenched his leg harder, a sinister smile on his face. Blaze crouched with his gun, and everybody in our crew behind us locked and loaded. I was reaching for my own sidearm, ready to blow Crack's fucking head off.

  Except I didn't have to. The bastard's skull exploded before he could draw on me, and it came from behind him.

  Fang spun, stunned silence twisting the sneer on his face. The huge throng of Grizzlies serving him had their guns drawn on each other. Another shot exploded. Another guy went down, one of Fang's men.

  Total fucking chaos.

  The guys who'd decided they didn't want any part of serving the asshole hit the dirt. Some ran toward us, only to be mowed down by the bastards staying loyal. They were brutal fucks, men like Serial, who loved everything Fang did to drive this club into the ground, hungry for mo
re of it to satisfy their sadistic urges.

  I struggled to stay down, protecting Christa, but I had to see what the fuck was going on. All that mattered to us was numbers. If enough of them mutinied, especially in this storm, we had a chance.

  Looking to my other side, I saw Blackjack keeping focus, pressing both hands tight to his wound. Blaze had his gun trained on Fang, who was high-tailing it back to the guys he had left.

  Shit! The Devils' Prez emptied his clip and one hit the bastard in the leg. Fang dropped, grunted, and started to crawl. He was on the ground, roughing his way forward, when several goons ran toward him and picked him up.

  Our guys were pouring past me now. Rabid leaned down to me, reaching for the woman's hand.

  “Let her go, bro. I got her. Need to get her to the rear.”

  I nodded. Good. Now, I was free to go, following the long push toward the woods, where lots of vehicles were abandoned in all the commotion.

  “Missy! Missy!” I screamed her name when I got closer, looking all over for anything bigger than a bike, or maybe a pit where they'd thrown her for the exchange.

  Nothing. More shots rang out around me, and several brothers wrestled on the ground, Grizzlies and the odd Devil doing close combat.

  A dead eyed fuck popped out of the trees and lunged with his dagger drawn. I blew his head off and went forward, forward, heading for the place where I'd seen them dragging Fang.

  No fucking way was he getting away alive. Not today.

  Someone tugged on the back of my cut. I spun, pressed my gun to his head, and felt my heart stick in my throat when I saw it was Blackjack, struggling to upright.

  “Christ! You should've stayed back. What the fuck's going on?”

  “Keep going, son,” he growled. “Don't fucking worry about me. I can't rest until I see him dead. We have to find him.”

  I nodded. The gunfire was dying down around us, and I was relieved to see mutineers and Devils standing around prisoners, gathering the fucks together who'd thrown down their arms.

  Blackjack hung close to me. We walked through the trees, and I cleared a path for him through the brush. Almost tripped on a dead man with a hole through his chest. Shit, it was one of the bastards who'd grabbed Fang. He had to be somewhere.