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

by Nicole Snow

  “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 you 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.

&
nbsp; “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 baby 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.

  I had to keep lying. Anything to buy time, time, precious time.

  “Yes, Red. I told you, it's not too late. You can still have all the things you want. With me.”

  Jesus, no. I wanted to cut out my own tongue.

  The words tasted like ash.

  Harsh, biting, poisonous.

  But they worked. He jerked away from me, covering his face. When he looked up, his brutal eyes were shining with tears, just as deranged as the rest of him.

  “You're a fucking godsend, woman. Fuckin' knew we'd get something sweet after getting fucked over by your daddy.” He stepped closer, brushing his arms against mine more gently this time, a wicked smile pulling at his lips. “You do everything I say, love, and we'll be cool. We'll have it all. I'll make you the best goddamned old lady in the whole world, happier than that fuckass you wed could ever make you...”

  His mouthed moved toward mine. I locked lips with the filthiest animal I'd ever kiss, and then I couldn't stop the tears. They ripped out of me, flooding, pulled out by Firefly raging in my head.

  No, no, no. I can't do this. There has to be a weakness here...

  Something. Anything!

  Running my hand over his belt and up his cut, I felt it. His knife was loose. He was distracted.

  I kissed him harder while I fingered what he had, pulled it out, and let my tears flow.

  When Red Beard pulled away, he saw the rivulets running down my cheeks, and his voice rumbled an octave lower. “The fuck? What's wrong? Don't you like it, babe?”

  I'd kissed him just long enough to fish around his side. He'd been so overwhelmed with emotion, shaking when his lips touched mine, that he'd let his guard down.

  I'd never opened a switchblade before, much less jabbed it into human flesh. But I'd seen Firefly and the other guys do it several times over, whether they were fighting or just sharpening them.

  “I'm sorry, Red,” I moaned, tilting my face up so I could look into his vicious eyes one more time. “You're beyond my help. And you taste fucking disgusting!”

  The metal glowed hot in my hand as the blade popped out, and I drove it straight into his back with all my might. It went in easier than I expected, thank God, so sharp and dangerous it surprised me.

  The bastard let out a ferocious scream. I kneed him in the balls, before he could come after me.

  He hit the floor, snarling and rolling like a beast caught in a trap. I backed into the corner, grabbed the chair, and began smashing it across his head. I had to shut him up, I had to kill him, before the other men came running.

  Too late. The door busted open, and I heard the gunshots exploding in the hallway. Then Sharp stepped in, his bald head shining like a demon, and he pulled his gun.

  “What the fuck?” He lifted it, aiming it right between my eyes. Down on the floor, Red Beard moaned, grabbing at my leg while he bled.

  “Don't fucking shoot. We murder her nice and fucking slow for this, goddamnit. I die, this bitch's blood is gonna paint this clubhouse.” The wounded leader's hand clawed at my leg, tight and angry, his fingers pinching into my calf so hard it hurt.

  His eyes stared up at me, half-glazed, angrier and crazier than ever before. Fucking bitch. I will watch you die before I do.

  I could hear his threat in my mind. But when Sharp rushed forward, pushing his gun to my temple, I couldn't hear anything except the roar of my own frantic heartbeat throbbing in my ears.

  “Step the fuck away from him, cunt, or I'll blow your fuckin' brains out!”

  His words were so small. So far away. And Jesus, what were all those gunshots outside?

  The whole world shrank away from me. I expected my lift to start flashing before my eyes any second.

  If Firefly and his men were here, they'd shown up about five minutes too late.

  I'd fought, and lost. I closed my eyes, letting the hot tears come, mouthing the words the savage men at my throat and at my knees wouldn't understand.

  I'm sorry, Firefly. I love you. Forever.

  XIII: Inferno Rising (Firefly)

  Ten Minutes Earlier

&n
bsp; Skinny boy saw the first lazy prospect milling around just past the gate to their clubhouse, a smoke hanging outta his mouth. He was staring at his phone, texting some bitch, judging by the smug look on his face.

  Fucker died happier than he deserved.

  “Now!” I whispered, standing next to Skin in the alley, motioning with my hand.

  His high powered rifle barked.

  Perfect shot. The asshole's head exploded in a cherry mist, and then Sixty revved the truck up. We just saw our brother's mouth hanging open, his goatee twitching, and heard him let out a rebel yell that would've made Stonewall smile in his grave as the truck smashed down the Torches' gate.

  “Go, go, go!” Dust roared.

  We moved fast, pouring in behind it.

  For a second, with all the thick dust swirling around and men running in like infantry behind a tank, I swore I was back in Afghanistan, ready to mow down some terrorist shits before they murdered villagers.

  Same adrenaline rush. No, fuck no, it was worse this time.

  My girl was on the line. Cora, the most valuable thing of all, everything I'd sworn my own fucking life to protect.

  Torches came flying outta the clubhouse like angry hornets, about five seconds after they heard the commotion. That was five second too long. Sixty ducked down in his driver's seat, and we fired our guns, hiding around the rear of his truck.

  Bullets went everywhere. Men dropped. Joker jumped out, rolled on the ground, and threw a flash grenade through the smoke, rolling toward their entrance.

  Fucking thing exploded in a clap of lightning, blinding all the bastards in front of us. They all swore bloody murder as their retinas temporarily got wiped.

  “Let's fucking move,” I said to Skin. He nodded, following my lead, laying down more suppressing fire as I worked my way through the thick of it, killing one of the nasty looking bastards clawing at his eyes on the ground.

  Skinny and me were almost punching our way through the main door when their garage opened up. Several big, mean motherfuckers hurled hellfire at us, crouched on the ground. A bullet cracked past my ear, clipping the very edge of my lobe, sending a hot blood trail trickling down my neck.