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

by Nicole Snow

  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 out. 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 nail
ing 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.

  “Better you hear it from me first than the Prez.”

  That got her attention. Her big, bright pearly blues rolled with surprise.

  I walked to the bed and sat down next to her, ignoring how she shrank away from me. Took a helluva lot more effort to keep my eyes off her chest, her ass, those long legs I couldn't stop thinking about digging into my ass while I railed her stupid...

  Cora let out a long sigh and ran a hand over her face. “Well, what now? Let's get this over with.”

  “You need something to do. Last thing the club wants is to keep you cooped up like a damned prisoner.”

  She cocked her head. “What? You'll let me go? I thought the whole point of this was to keep me hidden?”

  “Keep you away from your house and the old life you knew, fuck yeah. Doesn't mean you're chained to this clubhouse and broke. Prez wants you to get on your feet so you can have a life when all this shit blows over. We've got a job for you.”

  She looked at me intently. “I'm not good at mixing drinks and I'm not doing anything illegal.”

  Funny. Real fucking funny. I gave the girl my biggest shit-eating grin and grabbed her shoulder, pressing my fingers into a reassuring squeeze.

  “Babe, we're not fucking monsters. Your daddy wouldn't have kept himself close to Dust all these years if he thought we were just thugs and killers. We're not asking you to mule for us with grenades stuffed down your panties or some shit.”

  “God, you're crude.” She wrinkled her nose. Couldn't help but notice the faint trace of a smile on her little lips, before it melted away.

  Little Miss Prude liked it nasty – she just didn't want to admit it. I made a mental note that there'd be a lot more where that came from.

  “I don't know what my dad knew anymore,” she whispered. Familiar sadness sucked the color from her face.

  Not this shit again. Change the fucking subject, asshole, I told myself.

  “You've got good girl written all over you like the ink on my skin, I know it,” I said, sizing her up. “Prez is gonna offer you a job at the Ruby Heel. He wants you to work with Skin's old lady, Meg, on managing business there. Nothing illegal. Nothing crazy. Just good, honest work that'll probably pay you more than that fucking internship.”

  “Ruby Heel? That's...” She trailed off when it hit her. “Oh my God. I'm not taking my clothes off for money. I don't care how much it brings in.”

  She bolted up, and I went after her, grabbing on her arms. “No, no, no. Nobody's asking you to shake your ass for a buncha horny old buzzards. Don't think anybody's got an arm long enough to pull that stick outta your ass and get you naked for coin. We're asking you to help with the other shit. Business is business, even when it's all about making money on skin. Somebody's gotta handle the logistics.”

  For a second, she looked at me like I'd just asked her to hand over her first born. Her hand slipped out of my grip, shot up, and a firecracker exploded across my stubble on one cheek.

  “I'll do it, asshole,” she snapped, pulling away from me. “If everything here looks clean and kosher, I'll try. No promises it'll work, but we'll see. Whatever I decide, don't you ever talk to me like I'm some stupid kid who's spent her whole life in libraries. I can handle myself perfectly well in the adult world.”

  Fucking shit. I barely stopped my inner asshole from blowing smoke out my nostrils and rolling my eyes.

  She'd decided to listen to something sensible. That was fuckin' progress.

  “You're right,” I said, letting my eyes roam all over her body, real slow from top to bottom. “You deserve a chance to show me what you're made of.”

  “I don't have to impress you. Isn't your President the one who's handling all this? I need to talk to Dust.”

  “Something like that, darlin'.” My cheek still burned. That fire radiated all the way down to my dick, making me hard as granite.


  This chick was gonna get eaten alive at the skin shop. Didn't have a clue what the fuck Dust or Meg thought they could use her for. The instant she walked through the horny gaggle of truckers, bikers, and civvies shelling out good money to stare at tits all night, she'd get eaten alive.

  And that was if the bitches slinging themselves around the poles didn't chew her up first.

  Still, I meant every word I said. She deserved a shot. Anything beat more of her moping around the clubhouse, taking up my room all the damned time, reminding my cock of what it wanted, but couldn't have.

  “When do I see Dust?” she asked, turning her beautiful back and giving me a flash of that long, blonde hair. Noticed for the first time it hugged her close, halfway down her back, the perfect distance above that magnificent ass.

  “Tomorrow. Never said what time, but if you're up by seven, you'll be good. You like what he says, the job's all yours. Won't be long before I drive you down there to start.”

  “Oh, awesome, so you're my chauffeur now, too?”

  “Sure, long as you admit you like riding bitch on the back of my bike.”

  Her mouth dropped again. I fought the urge to laugh. Headed the fuck outta there before she could sling more shit, or else pretend her nipples weren't getting hard underneath that nice white blouse.

  Even when I walked into the bar and took my seat next to Joker, sucking on a tall beer with one hand on his big dog's head, I couldn't bleach her from my mind.

  This girl was something else.

  Always shocked and appalled.

  Always too fucking hot for her own skin.

  Always calling to my dick when we weren't even in the same room.

  Always the kinda spitfire I saw myself taming, railing, owning in all my wet dreams – except she really existed in the flesh. Just a fucked up, defiant girl who'd suffered too much shit and seemed too good for a bastard wearing the skull like me.

  That made me want her like a fuckin' animal.

  Sooner or later, she'd fall. This world tarnished the shit out of the most beautiful souls who tumbled into it. She wouldn't be the shy, upright twenty-something baby face forever.