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

by Nicole Snow

  They'd die for me to bring her home. And I would, I promised, crossing my fuckin' heart as we rolled off the exit leading to the outskirts of town. I'd never been a church going man 'til now, but I'd have sworn my loyalty to anything that brought the Torches down, and put Cora back into my arms.

  Faith in myself and the club would have to do. I had plenty of that to go around.

  Faith meant courage. We'd ram down their fuckin' doors and kill them all, or I'd die twelve times.

  They'd already sliced my fuckin' heart out for failing to protect her. If it wasn't too late, I'd make amends.

  I'd feel her safe again, snug in our apartment, moaning underneath me all over again. And then I'd put her under lock and key for the rest of my life, keep her away from every last pile of this deadly, monstrous shit between outlaws.

  My engine rumbled like a lion as we flew down the main stretch, approaching the run down shithole by the abandoned warehouses that the Torches called home. Something wet my face, too warm to be rain.

  Reached up and wiped a single, hot tear working its way outta my eye before the other boys could see, riding beneath the pale, orange streetlamps.

  She wasn't leaving. Cora wasn't fuckin' leaving me!

  I wouldn't let her.

  Nobody – motherfucking nobody! – was ever taking her away from me. Not when I'd spent thirty fuckin' years searching for this kind of woman, taming her, branding her hot little lips on my skin 'til I drew my last breath.

  Cora was coming home. I'd never been so sure of anything else in my life. My brain felt fire every single second, even when Dust motioned for us to pull over, lock our shit up, and walk the last few blocks to their seedy fuckin' clubhouse.

  Hang on, Cora, I thought, grabbing extra ammo outta my saddlebag.

  Just a little while longer, baby. Firefly's coming.

  He's fucking coming.

  And he's bringing you home.

  12

  Debt To Pay (Cora)

  “Stop fucking squirming, slut.” Red Beard had a vile, soft edge to his voice as he tore off the black hood covering my face.

  My eyes hurt, suddenly flooded with blinding light from the hot, unshielded lamp swinging overhead. It had been a long, painful ride in the back of a truck to what I guessed was Atlanta.

  Then they'd dragged me through their dirty clubhouse, men laughing, the stink of beer and tobacco so thick all around me I could smell it through the hood. Event the air itself was different between clubs.

  The Pistols' headquarters smelled like the forest compared to this dank, dirty sewer. None of the bastards left me much time to dwell on it, though. They just dragged me down the halls, down a cramped staircase, and threw me straight into my cell.

  I couldn't shake the prison cell comparison in this dingy room. It looked like an old storm shelter with concrete walls and a mottled cement floor. Heavy iron bars covered the narrow slits for windows, completing the illusion.

  It took me five or ten minutes just to gather my breath, and stop my eyes from hurting. There was nothing left to do except the only sane thing anybody would try.

  Bargain.

  “Let me go,” I said, my voice a low, dry whisper. “Please. You used to be on the same side as the Deadly Pistols, right? It's not too late.”

  Red Beard tipped his head back and laughed. Next to him, Sharp beamed, his bald head gleaming underneath the light. The metal teeth in his long jaw matched the same industrial-looking tattoos lining his forehead.

  “Fuckin' bitch doesn't have a clue, does she, Prez?”

  “Nah.” Red Beard smiled at his VP, and then looked at me. “You're flat-out wrong, girlie-girl. We don't deal with liars who stick their fangs in our backs. It was too fuckin' late for them the second they decided not to dump you off on our doorstep. Dusty put personal ties over the pact he made with us like a goddamned fool.”

  “You're not going to use me to pay my father's debt,” I said. “He's already dead. Gone. You never should've loaned him the money. You knew he was wracking up losses he could never repay!”

  Too much. Red Beard's hand shot out and slapped me on the cheek, so hard my head spun. I slumped in the uncomfortable wooden chair, wondering how long it would take my ears to stop ringing.

  “Fucking bitch! Not your place to talk back, and it damned sure ain't your place to talk to me about my own fucking business! Your daddy really raised a stupid cunt.”

  “Stupid, but good looking,” Sharp said, smiling and rubbing his chin. “We gonna start in on her, or what? We oughta find out how much cock this whore can take, and how hard, before we figure out whether we're selling or keeping her.”

  A feeble groan slipped out of my mouth. I looked up, too numb from the weakness in my body to seriously comprehend the savage threats being discussed right in front of me.

  “You won't,” I muttered.

  “Yeah, whore, we will,” Red Beard growled, stepping up behind me, jerking my hair.

  He stuck out his tongue. I knew he was running it slowly up my cheek like a starving dog, but I couldn't even feel it beneath the burn.

  Thank God for small favors, right?

  “Cold piece of ass. Doesn't even flinch,” he grunted, stepping away. His hand stayed on my shoulder, wandering down, down...oh, God.

  I closed my eyes and thought about Firefly as he grabbed my breast. My man wouldn't want me to fight. He'd want me to stay safe, to buy time, anything to stop this living nightmare.

  No! I couldn't do it.

  My hands shot out, grabbed Red Beard's arm, and I bit him, as hard as I could. The bastard screamed, and his filthy blood filled my mouth.

  Sharp was on me in half a heartbeat, shoving me so hard I hit the floor.

  Oh, shit. Shit! The baby!

  I rolled, threw my hands out, crouching in the most protective position I could. The two big men stood over me.

  I braced for their fists, their kicks, whatever they were going to do.

  “Get her fucking clothes off,” Red Beard snarled. “Gonna take her ass first. Pound the fuckin' shit out of this bitch 'til she's crying for that dead cocksucker who took our shit to the grave.”

  “Wait a minute, Prez?” Sharp looked up, something small and plastic in his hand.

  “What?” Red Beard snapped his hand around, one hand on my shoulder, ready to tear my shirt off.

  I gasped when I realized what he had, covering my mouth. The pregnancy test I'd stuffed in my pocket at the club.

  “Fucking shit. Looks like this slut's already been taking cock a-plenty.” Sharp held it out so Red Beard could see the sign on it.

  The big, ugly bastard looked like he was about to explode. And he did a second later, turning to face the wall, screaming as he kicked and punched the concrete.

  “Fuck. You! Fuck. You! Fuck. You!” When he peeled himself away from the wall, his knuckles were scraped off, dripping blood.

  Jesus. I can't give up if he comes a step closer. I have to fight...

  I crouched on my heels, ready to slam into him with all my might, the only Hail Mary I had that might keep his dirty hands off me for a few more seconds.

  “Bitch!” he screamed, wagging a finger at me. “Why the fuck didn't you say anything? Why, why, why?”

  “Prez, what the fuck does it matter? Don't change a damned thing –“

  “Like hell it doesn't!” Red Beard screamed, turning away from Sharp. “She's gonna shit out somebody's fuckin' kid! Probably that asshole calling her his old lady, his fucking wife.”

  “That's right,” I said softly, standing up, trying to choke down the fear. “He's coming to kill you if you lay a single hand on me. Better back off, before you wind up with my husband's knife in your throat.”

  Husband. That word stabbed at me worse than any blade, knowing I'd missed the chance to truly marry Firefly. I might never get another one.

  And speaking of blades, Sharp pulled his out, shooting me a dirty look as his knife popped out. “You're even stupider than I thought if yo
u think you can stand here and threaten us, slut. Fuck, Prez, just say the word and I'll gut her and her goddamned kid!”

  “No!” Red Beard's big arm went out in front of his chest. “You lost your fuckin' mind, brother? We do a lotta shit out here, fighting tooth and nail with the Deads and half the fuckin' gangs in Atlanta. But we don't kill kids – including the ones that ain't born yet.”

  “Goddammit, Red, don't tell me this is about that Margie chick again?”

  Red Beard slowly looked at him. Suddenly, all the hatred he'd been aiming at me swelled, and I watched the big man's fist plow into Sharp's gut, doubling him over. His blade fell, clattering on the concrete floor.

  “Say her name again, and I'll knock your fucking teeth out.” Baring his teeth, he looked up, pain and rage swarming in his dark eyes. “Stay put, slut. We're gonna sort this shit out, one way or another. I've got some shit to chew on.”

  I didn't say anything as he grabbed the back of Sharp's cut and pulled him forward, heading for the door.

  “Come on, asshole!” he barked, and then they were gone, slamming the door behind them.

  The lock snapping shut echoed through the dingy room like a tomb. I was alone. Again.

  I could've curled up and started to cry, but it wouldn't have done me a bit of good. I brought the chair to the furthest corner and sat down. Was this how prisoners felt on death row, waiting for the end?

  I let my hand reach out to the concrete wall and rested it there, just feeling the coolness, letting it become warm for a slow, hazy minute.

  Don't leave me here, Firefly. I know you'll come, if I can just stall them long enough.

  My heart didn't know what to believe anymore. But for now, I'd make myself hold out hope. I had to believe, I had to keep the faith, and I had to remember his rough, wonderful lips against mine.

  My old man's kiss was all I had to keep me warm in this cold, evil place at the end of the world.

  Hours passed. Or was it only minutes?

  The first thing that goes when you're really a prisoner is your sense of time. I was drifting off in the chair, thoroughly exhausted, when the door swung open.

  Red Beard stepped inside. This time, he was alone. His black eyes were a hideous compliment to the gnarled beard hiding half his pock marked face. He looked almost like he'd been burned at some point, but I couldn't be sure.

  He had something in his hands. A bottle of water, and what looked like a couple cheap sausages from a gas station, wrapped in plastic.

  “Eat it, bitch. Fucking eat, and then we'll talk.” He shoved them into my lap.

  I drank, but I barely took a bite off the snacks, too queasy after everything I'd been through the past twenty-four hours. I couldn't get sick again, not here, or I'd never walk out alive.

  “Your daddy fucked up bad,” he growled, pacing in front of me. “Fucker owed us more than a hundred big. Money he promised us a return on investment with. Money we could've used to kill the fuckin' Deads and then come for your loser old man and his brothers in the Pistols MC. You're the only fucking thing we've got left to pay his shit!”

  Red Beard spun, slamming his fist into the wall above me. I ducked, feeling the air distort, ruffling my hair.

  “He's dead!” I shouted, feeling the lead in my heart as I said the words. “Why do I have to pay for his mistakes? Tell me!”

  Red Beard drew in a long, harsh breath, his huge chest rippling underneath his dirty cut. “Because when a man's got no money, he takes a pound of flesh instead. That's you, Cora. You were gonna be my personal fuck-toy for me to use hard, before I sold you off to the dirtiest, richest motherfucker I could find. This club's run outta money to spare for owning this city, and everything's on the table. Everything.”

  He looked at me darkly. I stared into his sick brown eyes, refusing to look away.

  I missed Firefly's glacier blue irises so bad. What I would've given just then to feel his hand on my chin, tipping my head up, staring into my man's face before he crushed his lips on mine...

  “Trouble is,” Red Beard said, beginning to pace again like a caged tiger, “you threw a huge fucking wrench into my goddamned plans. I needed a bitch – not a fuckin' bitch with a baby!”

  “Why would you let that stop you?” I said, turning up my nose. “You and your men, you're animals. You've already hit me, taken me prisoner. I can't believe there's a code, some line you can't cross.”

  “You don't know shit,” he said, stopping and folding his arms. “I'm not having another bitch get fucked and bleed out in this clubhouse, however fucking much you deserve it, after all that money we pissed away on your dead daddy.”

  “What happened to you?” I asked, fighting with everything I had to dial down my defiance, lower my voice to a whisper.

  Maybe, if I could get underneath his skin, find out what made him tick, I'd gain the wisdom I needed to get through this...

  “None of your fucking business,” he snarled.

  “No, I think it is. If you aren't going to let me go...at least tell me why I'm here. Why you seem so hurt.”

  His dark eyes drilled into mine for a long, angry second. Then he tore himself away, heading for the door. He stopped, slamming his hands into it. His wrists creaked painfully, and he swore.

  Whatever was eating at him, it was so bad he wanted to hurt himself to forget.

  A wicked smile tugged at my lips. The bastard had a weakness.

  Something awful had happened to him, some kind of trauma.

  What had his VP said? Something about losing a baby, a girl?

  I could play him. Get him to open up to me, earning his trust. More importantly, I'd buy myself some extra time. And right now, that was gold while I waited to hear the roar of Pistols' bikes outside the clubhouse.

  “You don't have to be like this,” I said, slowly standing up, coming toward him. “If you're going to keep me, maybe you can use me a different way, Red. Tell me what you've suffered, what's screwing you up like this, day and night.”

  “No!” he spun around, and I stumbled backwards, tripping over my own feet. I swore he was about to hit me again, but he caught himself at the last second, slowly tugging his hand back with new rage shining in his eyes.

  “Bitch ass slut! Look what you almost made me do! I'm not safe, goddammit. You're not getting in my head. I ain't letting you go, either. I can't, can't, I fuckin' can't!”

  I was dealing with a volcano, ready to blow any second. But I was in too deep to stop, watching him crack, losing his senses the more I pushed.

  I had to keep pushing. Harder.

  “What happened?” I echoed again, this time gingerly reaching out, laying a soft hand on his back. “Something terrible, wasn't it? It's like poison, holding it all in. You shouldn't. It'll destroy you.”

  “Already fuckin' did, woman. I'm tainted meat,” he growled, pushing my hand off. He spun around, looked at me, and I saw – Oh, Christ.

  Tears. So out of place in a monster's eyes.

  “It's too goddamned late for me. I fucking killed my own wife and kid. Got 'em caught in a shootout with the Deads a couple years ago...”

  “I'm sorry,” I said softly, oozing false compassion. “It wasn't your fault.”

  He wiped his hot, raging tears on his arm and laughed, pulling on his thick ginger beard. “Fuck if it wasn't. I was driving when the bullets ripped right through my truck. Killed Margie on the spot when she was three months in, too fuckin' soon to save the kid. I lost her. Lost everything. Gave it all up to the Deads, karma for this life of sinning, fucking, killing I've been living since my nuts dropped.”

  “It's not too late. You've done some terrible things, I get that. This world swallows you up. But maybe you can negotiate, send me home as a show of good faith. I'll even do everything I can to talk the Pistols down from –“

  I hesitated. Murdering you and all your men, I wanted to say.

  Hell, I wanted it to happen, too, whatever tiny shred of compassion I might feel for this evil, broken man. My ba
by was the only thing holding him back from doing worse.

  Would he have me on the floor by now if he didn't know? Tearing my clothes off, forcing his way inside me, holding a gun to my head while he had his way?

  “You're fucking clueless,” he snarled. “Shit don't work like that in this world, whore. Not even close. This is the real fuckin' deal – so damned real you don't get second chances. You fuck up, you die. You go too deep down the trenches, fighting and killing and fucking other bastards harder than they fucked you, you're buried. Too deep to ever climb back out. You're there, bitch, and that's where you belong. Forever.”

  I sucked my bottom lip, wondering how long I could keep this up. Think, Cora.

  He's going to kill you if you don't. You've got to keep feeding the tiger, before he sinks his teeth into you.

  “So change it,” I said. “You're the leader here. Your men will do what you say. Not so long ago, you were on good terms with the Pistols. I've met Dust, he's a reasonable man. I'm in love with Firefly. He'll hear me. I can make them listen, change their minds about what they're planning to –“

  “Shut the fuck up!” His fists flew down by his sides like rocks and slapped his thighs. “Close your fuckin' lips before you make me do it for you. You ain't talking me outta shit. I'm in too goddamned deep, and so are you, girl. You're staying. I'm not a fucking fool, and I'm not turning into one by letting you sweet talk your ass outta this. It's too motherfuckin' late. Even if we turned you over, the Pistols ain't shaking our hands when we almost killed two of their damned prospects.”

  This time, he came at me, serious as a lion smelling meat. I backed up against the wall. His hands jerked my wrists and pulled me into him, into his face.

  “You wanna help me, you can make up for what I fucking lost. Pay your daddy's debt in full. I'll make you my old lady, wait 'til you shit out asshole's kid...” He pushed his face to my cheek, snarling his growl into my ear. “Then I'll give you mine.”

  I shuddered, sick to death at the thought of ever having a baby with anyone except Firefly. Eyes pinched shut, I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat and nodded.