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

by Nicole Snow

  The Prez sat up like a dog catching wind of a juicy steak, but he kept his cool. “No. Can't say I have. How much money are we talking?”

  “Quarter million. Pretty sure you could squeeze out more if you even give them a whiff you know something about their baby girl.”

  “Fuck. That's a lot of scratch.” Dust leaned back in his chair, the wheels turning in his head so loud I could practically hear them grinding. “Tell me you've got a plan. We could drop her off at their doorstep tomorrow, but they're not gonna give that money to the Pistols MC, especially if the Feds are involved. Hell, Uncle Sam's glad we're almost out of commission. We're so far off their radar they barely even send goons to sniff around us anymore.”

  I had to think fast. For a second, the Prez and Veep eyed me so hard I thought they'd set my cut on fire. Sweat beaded on my brow, but I didn't earn my name by getting stumped.

  They called me Skin because I'd saved this club by the skin of its teeth more times than anybody could count, especially from the IRS. Those bastards combed everything, looking for any little misstep to shut us down. As long as I wore the Treasurer patch, they'd never find a goddamned shred of evidence.

  “I'll convince her to play along. The girl only needs one hero – if I come forward and she's got my blessing, they won't be any wiser. It's probably her rich daddy who'll be handing off the money anyway. I'll smile for a press photo when they give me the check. I'll look nice and I'll be there as Parker – not Skin.”

  I stopped. Perfect timing because the Prez was shaking his head, trying to hold in laughter or else keep his fist from flying into my face. I couldn't tell which.

  “That's weak, brother. Even by your standards. I expected better.”

  I shrugged. “Take it or leave it, Prez. We can talk about it in church, but I doubt the club's gonna come up with anything better. Me and this whore, we've built ourselves an understanding of sorts.”

  That was a total lie. Sure, I'd given her my ring, and she'd looked at me at first like the only man who hadn't treated her like a total piece of meat. Then I'd ripped her out of the fire, only to throw her into mine.

  I'd betrayed her. This whole idea was insane, if the Prez decided to give it a chance. I had no fucking clue if I could really convince her, ever repair the damage I'd done.

  But there wasn't another choice. Joker grunted in the corner, holding in his dead tone sarcasm. The Prez just stared, ready to open up on me, but I knew he didn't want to do it when I had him by the balls.

  He knew this was our only choice too, the best shot we'd had in forever to inject some lifeblood back into this club.

  “Yeah? What kind of understanding is that? One where she doesn't pay you back for holding her ransom with a blowjob and hands over a couple hundred grand?”

  “Go ahead and be cynical. I'll prove how wrong you are. No different than that time you decided to go all in with the chop shops, and I told you that much expansion would bring the whole house down.” I looked him dead in the eye. “I was right then, and it's no different now.”

  His lips twitched as his hand moved, scraping his heavy metal rings across the table. He looked at Joker.

  “Step aside so he can get to work. He's got three days to convince me this isn't just bullshit.” Slowly, Dust turned back to me, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “If I'm not convinced, I'm handling this myself. I don't give a shit who she is, or what we're putting on the line. The club needs cash, and we just landed ourselves a golden goose. Her parents will pay up one way or another, mark my fucking words. I'll use all the vinegar I've got if honey won't do the trick.”

  Joker grinned, cold and artificial as ever. Creepy motherfucker.

  I stood up, nodded, and put my hand out to the Prez. He could be a total bastard and a stubborn SOB at times, but he knew how to motivate a man.

  I promised myself I wouldn't let anybody down while we shook hands. I wasn't in the business of making promises I couldn't keep, and this one wouldn't be the first I'd failed to honor. Didn't matter that this happened to be the biggest conundrum since I'd put on the patch.

  My word was gold. Always. The broken dove holed up in my room wasn't gonna be the first to turn it into mud.

  * * * *

  I rode into town and picked up a fresh change of clothes for her. The jeans and shirts I picked out were probably a size too big, but fuck if I knew anything about women's clothing.

  She'd wear it. She'd be happy. And I'd put a choke chain around my cock the whole time, whatever it took to kill the urge to fuck her senseless.

  No lie, it was gonna take a miracle. Every second I wasn't balls deep in her was torture. My skin bristled thinking about her pressed up against me on the long ride home, how soft and sweet she felt, how hot she'd be to haul into my bed and fuck, fuck, fuck 'til we lit the bed on fire.

  The last stop was at a local burger stand for some grub. I'd seen the old pictures of her, back when she had some wicked curves. A selfish part of me wanted to help pad her again, get her healthy.

  No surprise, the girl had lost some serious weight in the pimp's clutches. She was beautiful now, but there was a total knockout underneath the surface, a girl who'd make every man who passed her ache to get her under him.

  'Course, I didn't wanna wait. I wanted her now.

  Having to forget about all the nasty things I wanted to do to her while we slept in the same room tonight promised to be a special hell. I'd have to tie my hands behind my back if we shared a bed, otherwise they'd end up stripping off her clothes, spreading her legs, holding her open for my fingers, my tongue, every swollen inch of me.

  I'd heard her whimper several times before. Whenever I imagined her doing it louder in bed, pressed up against me, my thunder stirred my blood. My cock raged in my pants, a nuclear fucking warhead threatening to blow my whole world apart if I didn't slam her into the nearest horizontal surface and fill her up.

  Fuck. I should've been thinking that kinda shit when I'd already screwed her over. Damn if I could help it. Meg's tongue, her tits, her sweet little ass clouded my head the entire ride home.

  I focused on the guilt by the time my bike pulled into the garage, the only thing that would kill the dynamite hard-on throbbing in my pants.

  I headed into the clubhouse, straight to my room. Found her curled up on my bed, dead asleep, stripped out of the sopping wet clothes I half-worried had given her pneumonia.

  My hand brushed her cheek, checking for warmth, fever. It was a small relief when she was cool to the touch, and pure hell as my eyes wandered her body, taking in everything that wasn't hidden by the lacy black bra and panties hanging on her.

  Her eyelids fluttered open. She rolled sharply, almost fell off the bed and pounded the floor when she saw me.

  “Didn't mean to scare you. I'm back with some food and clothes.”

  She looked at me like a scorned cat. I reluctantly lowered my eyes, reaching for the bag from the clothing shop, pushing it into her arms.

  “Go ahead and change in the bathroom. I'll give you some privacy.”

  Fuck, if I didn't want to eat those words. Privacy? Who the hell was telling her this?

  It sure wasn't Skin. No matter how bad I felt about keeping her here for cash, I couldn't stop thinking about how hard I wanted to fuck her.

  The bathroom door gently closed as she retreated inside, reappearing a couple minutes later, dressed like she was ready to ride out with me to the bar. I couldn't unsee what the jeans and shirt were hiding, and she scrunched up her face when she caught me looking at her too long, too intently.

  “Jesus, you're a pig. I can't believe I thought you were different.”

  “Sure, go ahead and ignore the fact that I sent three miserable fucking Deads to their graves to get you here alive. I meant everything I said – I wouldn't have given you my ring as collateral if I didn't.” I bolted up and stared at her, every kinda frustration known to man churning in my veins. “You're going home, Meg. No bullshit. The faster you work with me, the soon
er it'll happen.”

  Ignoring me, she walked past, and looked into the bag I sat on my beat-up table.

  “Eat, woman. You've gotta be hungry.”

  She wrinkled her nose and gave me a disinterested look. “I'm not.”

  “Don't make me force something down your throat, babe. I've carried you this far, and I'm sure as shit not standing here while you starve to death.”

  “So do it,” she said coldly, heading for the lone chair in the corner. “You're not my hero. I don't care how many excuses you make, Skin. You're just another man who's decided to use me. You're going to take whatever you want, make me do it your way, and I don't have any say. Don't pretend I'm wrong.”

  My skin sizzled, anger and disappointment building at my brain stem. I didn't like the defeat in her eyes, or the way she slouched her shoulders, shrugging off living another day when she was so fucking close to home.

  “You can't give up now. Look, I'm not doing this because it's my choice. I couldn't have bailed you out in the first place if I didn't promise the other guys something.” I stepped toward her, closing the space between us, waiting for her to look at me. “I'm still the same man you met in that whorehouse, the man who gave you the most important thing he's got for collateral. I'm gonna help you out of this for good, but I've got to help my club too, and they need the reward your folks promised.”

  “You're a criminal, Skin. No different than the rest of them – just a little less stoned and maybe less cruel.”

  What the shit? Was she trying to make me explode?

  “Maybe,” she repeated, still looking at the floor. “You want your money? Fine. I'll do what I can to convince my dad to give it up, whenever you're ready to let me talk to him. You know, if you aren't going to chain me up in here like Ricky and use me a few times before you decide to let me go. Looks like I wound up with a buyer after all, right?”

  No more. I reached for her chin and grabbed it hard. She gasped, but the spitfire met my eyes, and I held her gaze.

  I let it all come out in my stare. The anger, the frustration, the sheer need I had to save her while I prevented my club from getting completely shredded by Deads, without any funds to buy enough ammo to fight back...

  Fuck, I knew she saw the desire too. I couldn't hide shit from this girl. If she didn't know how bad I wanted to rip her clothes off and stuff my cock in her mouth to shut her up, then she had to be blind.

  “I don't need you to understand, babe. I need you to listen. This isn't a goddamned sex trade, and you know it. I'm not your new pimp.”

  “Do I?” The hateful confusion in her eyes almost made me question it too.

  “If you don't know, you'll find out fast. Right now, you're looking at me like I'm one more twisted fuck who's here to pour gasoline on your life and watch it burn down. I'm no hero. I never said I was. But I'm your only ticket to true freedom. Just like you're my only way to save my ass, and maybe everybody wearing this patch. Go ahead and hate me like I'm nothing but another pimp, or a Deadhand limpdick piece of shit sent to drag you away. Doesn't change the fact that we're up the same creek, and we can either sink our hands into the water together or drown.”

  She broke my gaze first. I watched her little jaw clench. At first, I thought she was going to fire back again.

  No, she was fighting back tears instead, begging every instinct I had to pull her up, yank her into my arms, and brush away each poison tear sliding down her cheek.

  My hand went to her shoulder and I squeezed. That did it, caused her to surrender.

  Fuck it. She didn't fight as I drew her into my embrace, squeezed her so tight I threatened to crush the air outta her lungs.

  I didn't understand what this strange, beautiful chick was doing to me. I wanted to protect her, break her, and scream in her face all at once. I wanted to fuck her as bad as I wanted to wipe away her tears.

  Worst of all, I barely even knew her, and she had my ass invested like a gambler chasing penny stocks.

  The outcome wouldn't be any better either. Christ, no.

  I'd grown up a heartbreaker, and this girl sure as shit didn't need that. I resisted the urge to put my lips on her skin, tracing those fiery tears racing down her. She gushed sorrow and shame for the next couple minutes while I held her, stroked her hair.

  I wished to high heaven I really was her hero, instead of her fucking warden.

  I'd made peace with being the bad guy, the outlaw, a long time ago. So, why the fuck did I actually feel bad with her?

  “Work with me, babe,” I whispered. “This can all be over faster than you think. You can rebuild your life.”

  “Okay!” she hissed at last, jerking away from me. “I'm sorry. It's been such a long day. I don't want your sympathy or your help. I'll work with you, Skin, but that's it...just enough to get your money.”

  The distance between us was suddenly like a gulf. Still, I stared at her, smiled, and nodded.

  “That's all I'm asking. You get yourself square with the club, and you're free. This time, for real. You'll never have to hear shit from a man on a motorcycle or sleep in a dirty room again.” I saw her look at the food on the table, probably getting ice cold. “You want me to warm that shit up for you, or what? You're not going back to bed 'til you put something in your stomach.”

  “I'll eat. Just not...that. It's the last meal I had before I was kidnapped. Ricky put something in my food at this diner. Doubt I'll ever enjoy a hamburger again. His trick worked to get me in his truck, and...“

  She stopped, catching a lump of pure sadness in her throat.

  Fucking shit. My heart sank. I held up a hand, silencing her, then walked over to the table and ripped it up. I crushed the whole bag into a tight ball and opened the door, hurling it into the garbage outside.

  “If I take you out for something different, will you promise not to fuck me and try to run away?”

  She shrugged. “Whatever. You know I won't. Even if your club isn't like the Deads, I know I'll have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life if I squeal or turn you guys in. That's not what I call freedom.”

  My jaw clenched. She gave me the answer I needed to grab her by the hand and lead her to my bike. Didn't make me stop wishing the entire time that she saw me as something other than a cruel, calculating motherfucker.

  Someday, I'd make her. One more promise piled onto my long list of impossible obligations.

  * * * *

  We hit the local taco shack for a couple hours. I sucked on Mexican beers while I watched her pick at her food like a bird, but by the time we left, she'd finally eaten enough to make me happy.

  I paid the tab and watched her slump across from me in her seat, her eyes half-closed, digesting more than just her food. Shit, the girl probably needed a solid year to process all the crap she'd been dragged through the last forty-eight hours.

  I stared into my half-empty beer, watching the pale gold swirl, all I could do to keep my eyes off her curves.

  My dick turned me into a monster. I couldn't stop imagining fucking her, even after all she'd been through.

  And if we actually fucked, I'd be sure to fuck her over too. She needed something soft after the hell she'd suffered.

  Too bad tender, gentle, soft wasn't in my damned vocabulary. The only thing swirling through my skull was rough, hard, and rougher. I wanted to take her so hard I left marks, stamped her skin from head to toe, let the entire world know she was mine.

  I'd start by shredding her clothes and wrapping her hair around my fist. Meg's hot, virgin skin would burn beneath my lips. My entire cock throbbed each time I thought about dragging my mouth down her body, pushing my face between her legs, jerking her into my lips, tongue, and teeth by the ass.

  Had she ever ridden a man's face before with her sweet cunt? Whether she had or not, there wasn't a fucking chance she'd ever had her pussy tamed with a mouth like mine.

  I made women scream. I stole every molecule of air from their lungs. I caused them to pant 'til I let them attack
my cock, and they fucked me ferociously, begged for my come, lost their minds before I finally gave it up.

  This chick made me imagine the nastiest shit I had in years.

  Her freak virginity made me want to claim her even more. If I got a chance, I'd shake every inch of her, fuck her over and over and over again, 'til every last trace of the dirty bastards she'd been forced to suck were gone forever.

  “Skin? Did you hear me, or were you too busy playing with your drink?”

  I looked up. The glass swirling lightly in my hand stopped.

  Was she serious? Hell no, I wasn't listening.

  Not when the pouty angel across from me turned my blood molten every time I looked at her.

  “Sorry. I've been busy thinking about how we're gonna work this to get you back to your ma and pa sooner.”

  Yeah, right. All I was really thinking about was hearing her call me daddy while she took every seething inch of me.

  She smiled softly and shook her head. I'd put on a good front. “I said he never cared if I finished my food. Ricky, I mean. Look, I'm never going to kiss your feet for doing what you need to do. But maybe you're a little nicer than the last man who chained me up. Maybe.”

  “Yeah, whatever, babe.” I'd rather have her kissing something else, but I kept that part to myself.

  Reminding me of what the club had done – what I was doing to her right now – fucking gutted me. I hid that shit too. I couldn't go soft and let her assume anything. I also couldn't handle her getting under my skin, tempting me to do something stupid to get her home sooner, something that'd screw my brothers over.

  Whatever morals I had died years ago, the first time I shot a rival man in the guts and watched him flop to death on the floor. Sure, the asshole deserved it, but you never come back whole from putting down a human being.

  That's what I'd thought, kill after kill, growing a little colder every year, just like Dad. I hadn't known what the hell wrong was 'til I plucked her outta that whorehouse. I forced myself to look at her, even though my heart was filling up with black, toxic muck.