by Nicole Snow
“I've got to do this, babe. It'll be over fast. I promise.”
I'd make it up to her later. I sure as shit wasn't gonna let the Prez and the rest of my brothers take down Big Vic and the rest of his guys.
That sonofabitch had to die by my hand, just like I swore.
I always kept my word, ever since I'd put on this patch. Always.
We chased the fuckers deep, crawling over tangled brush. Caught the greasy haired shit, Snappy, first, found him hiding behind a stump. He got off a few more shots, but the asshole was blinded with pain.
Joker got him from behind, close combat, stabbing a knife through his throat while the little hyena was too busy trying to shoot us. He died with his other hand still pressed to the nasty wound on his thigh, a jagged wound too messy to be one of ours.
I nodded to myself, satisfied that Meg had fucked a few of them up by making that dumb bastard blow his shotgun. He'd caught a piece of his own shrapnel, and now the devil had his soul. We pressed on.
The raging pain in my head stopped. I hit a second wind, running ahead of my boys, Sixty and Crawl at my side.
We found their guns before we found them. The last two Deads dropped everything, trying to run in a headlong panic. Crawl stopped for a second, picked up their shitty camera, and I took the machete laying next to it.
They'd followed a stream, probably hoping it'd lead them somewhere to hide, when we dropped 'em. Me and my best two brothers shot Big Vic and his boy in their calves from behind. They went down screaming like rats.
The Prez and the rest of the guys had just enough time to catch up as we approached.
“Goddamn, we got ourselves an officer.” He pointed his gun at Big Vic's name patch, ready to dispatch him at any time.
I grabbed his arm and shoved his gun down with a growl. The Deadhands' Veep blubbered like a baby, begging for his miserable life. I'd seen his type before – big, ugly bullies who always shit their pants when they were fresh outta bullets and guts.
The Prez walked up and kicked him in the ribs before he turned around and looked at me.
“He's mine, Prez. Let me do him. He tried to kill me and fuck my old lady. Asshole was planning to film it all for ransom from her folks.”
“No arguments,” Dust said coldly. “What about this other piece of shit?”
He gestured to the pot bellied biker with the pockmarked face. I shook my head. I didn't have a personal beef with this asshole like I did their VP. He was just another faceless soldier in the wrong place, wrong time, wrong club.
“Joker?” Dust smiled as he looked at our crazy ass Veep.
The boy was finally wearing a ghost of a smile as he pulled his knife out. Sixty and Crawl grinned, holding the bastard down. Joker sliced his shirt open and started carving the ink off his chest, stuffing the scrap of dirty fabric in the asshole's mouth to drown out his screams.
Ironic how he ended up suffering longer for Big Vic's sins. I wasn't interested in tolerating that bad motherfucker tainting more air on this planet for a second longer.
He tried to crab crawl away from me with his shot up leg when he saw me coming, machete in hand. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.”
Normally, I gave assholes a chance to say some final words.
Not today.
I stepped ahead of him to the creek's river bed and took off his arm with one quick, clean cut. Then the other. The bastard howled so loud he would've gotten our asses in trouble, assuming there was anybody to hear.
Lucky for us, that wasn't a concern when I swung the blade again. His ugly fucking head came off and rolled like a rotten pumpkin, right to the edge of the stream, stopping against a jagged rock with his eyes frozen open in shock.
I looked at his sick face one more time. Asshole's mouth hung open like he died surprised, and I grunted. Sweet, sweet satisfaction.
He'd need a lot more than fresh mountain water to purify his black soul down in hell for what he'd done to my woman.
* * * *
Two hours later, I was back at the clubhouse, Meg at my side while Dust's ma, Laynie, checked me over.
She had her work cut out for her today as a former nurse. First, Firefly, and now me.
“You should really go down to the hospital and get a brain scan, son.” She shined the bright light into my eyes one more time, turning everything brilliant white. “I'm not seeing any obvious signs of damage, but you took a terrible blow to the head. I don't have the right equipment to rule out the worst.”
“I'll be fine,” I grunted, feeling a tiredness coming over me, nothing but the burning drive to curl up with my old lady and go the fuck to sleep.
“Skin, I want one of your friends to take us on a drive. I'm going to get you some help.” Meg stood up, pulling the rag she'd used to help clean the blood off my face out of its water, and wiped a spot she'd missed.
Fuck, that shit stung when she grazed my cuts. But it wasn't half as bad as having to get used to these people buzzing around, all concerned about me passing out.
We'd cleaned up the dead weight in the woods and taken off earlier that night. The prospects and Joker split to head deeper into the mountains, taking the motherfuckers we'd finished out to our usual burial sites.
“Forget about it, babe. I just need to sleep this shit off, I'll be fine by morning.”
Yeah, right. The way the roar in my temples deepened every time I tried to talk told me I was kidding myself and everybody else here with me.
“Bullshit, Skin.” The Prez barked, leaning against the frame in the open doorway. “You need to listen to my ma, and your old lady. I won't have this club's brains getting scrambled for good. I've heard enough. I'm getting Crawl and Sixty together and having them take ya'll in to medical.”
Fuck. So much for getting a luxury condo, as soon as I saw the medical bill I'd wrack up after they did half a million scans on my skull.
“I can't afford that shit, and neither can the club treasury. We're just barely getting back on our feet. I'm not gonna burden the brothers, taking away from this club and the profit share for the guys when we've all risked our asses.”
“You risked yours the most, Skin. It's my choice – or did you forget what this patch means?” Dust stepped forward, sharing a quick glance with his ma, and tapped the PRESIDENT patch on his cut.
“Yeah, I remember. Your way, Prez. No backtalk.”
“Guys, let me do this,” Meg said, speaking up. “I have an idea.”
“Start talking, baby doll,” Dust growled. “I'm not letting this boy close his eyes for a goddamned cat nap 'til he's had his head looked at good and proper.”
Meg sat down with a nervous smile, and began to explain. By the end of it, I wasn't sure whose eyes were bugging out harder – mine or the Prez's. That was when I knew beyond any doubt I'd hitched up with the craftiest girl this side of the mountains, and maybe the craziest too.
* * * *
“This is it?” Sixty pulled a smoke from his mouth and flicked it out the truck's window.
“Yup. I'll walk him over and buzz the gate. Just wait for us out here.” Meg tugged on my arm. “Come on, old man. It won't be as bad as you think.”
My brothers nodded. They watched me stagger out of the passenger seat with my girl on my arm. The fucks probably thought I was heading for death row.
Her daddy didn't say much when she buzzed the gate. The big, iron bars I'd only seen from the outside slid open. It was a long walk to the double-wide front door between the roman columns, a country mansion like something outta Civil War times.
A tall, wiry man with spectacles came out to meet us, looking like a damned owl. He took one look at me and twisted his face.
“Honey, what the hell is this? Some kind of joke? My God, you brought him here.”
“Of course I did, Daddy. Are you telling me the man who saved my life isn't welcome in our home?”
Pain roared in my temples. Didn't distract me from fixing eyes on her father, watching the hard, venomous look he gave me so
ften the longer his daughter looked at him.
Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. “No. We're civilized here. Assuming you have no weapons...Mister Skin, you're welcome to come inside for some water.”
I narrowed my eyes, staring at him, and decided to do the only thing that made any damned sense. “I'd like that. It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mister Wilder. Call me Parker.”
* * * *
“What's going on here, Eric? Who is this man, and what's he doing in our house so late?” An elegant looking older lady in a thick burgundy robe sashayed into the kitchen, heading right for us.
We'd barely even sat down and gotten started. Meg squeezed my hand and smiled. I clenched my jaw, holding in a big fat whatever.
If she wanted to introduce me to her old man, then she'd might as well do the entire family.
“This is Megan's friend, Parker. She's come back to us.”
“Oh, baby, I'm so glad you're finally going to get the help you need.” Meg's ma slipped past me, hung over her, and kissed her on the forehead.
Finally, she looked up, staring into my eyes. The chick must've been in her fifties, but she'd aged well. I could see the resemblance in her chestnut hair and high cheeks. She must've been a total fucking knockout in her heyday, a perfect trophy for a rich businessman.
“Parker, huh?” she sniffed. “And how do you know my Megan?”
“He's the man I'm moving in with, Mom. I love him.”
The old lady's jaw dropped. I would've laughed if it wasn't for the bison stampede in my head, the aftershock of that motherfucker slamming his rock into my skull hours ago.
“You. Can't. Be. Serious.” Her mother pulled away from her, folding her arms.
“I am. Like I tried to tell Daddy over the phone, this man is the missing piece of the last six months of my life. He's the only reason I'm home, and not chained up in some dark, musty basement, being forced to service a man who wanted to buy me from my pimp.”
The color drained outta her ma's face. Hubby stood up and took her hand, pulling her onto his lap so she wouldn't fall.
“Megan, please, we don't need to talk about all that. We've rehashed it enough with the police.” Her father looked up angrily. “The detective, mind you, who I lied to repeatedly for you. Apparently, that wasn't good enough. You've still decided to throw your own family under the bus to protect this – this biker.”
Fuck this shit. I stood up, feeling hot blood rushing to my face, listening to the heavy chair squeak across their perfectly polished tile.
“We done here yet?” I growled.
Meg looked at me, her eyes big and pleading. Then she turned her gaze on her parents, and it was a lot more ruthless.
“You really don't get it, do you? I'd be dead, if not worse, right now, if it wasn't for Skin. Parker. Go ahead, call him whatever you want. Treat him like trash.” She reached out, took my hand, and jerked it against her cheek, brushing against me like a kitten. “It doesn't change the fact that he saved my life, or that we're in love. And nothing's ever going to change it.”
Damn if her touch didn't smolder the fuse inside me. It always did. This woman's skin was magic against mine, and I could almost forgive the haughty fucks who'd raised her.
“But it doesn't change the fact that you'd be making my funeral arrangements right now if he hadn't gotten me away from that whorehouse. If you want, I'll leave this house with him, and you'll never see me again. Keep the rest of my trust, I don't care. There's just one more favor I'm after – we're here tonight because he's taken a terrible blow to the head. You're both decent people, even if you don't like my man. I have to believe you'll give me my own money one more time to help the man who's kept me breathing.”
“We'll have to discuss this privately,” her dad snapped. “Here, sit tight, let me get you some water, dear.”
Just as he sat her mother down in the chair and got up, she grabbed his hand, as if she'd been struck by lightning. “Don't. Eric, she's right. I believe her. Whatever she said before, I know our baby's only with us now because of this man. We can't just kick him out and leave him to suffer.”
The whole damned world froze over in my woman's eyes, and melted like a steaming glacier. She nodded softly, gratitude on her lips.
“Thank you. Somebody finally understands.”
“All right, all right,” her dad growled at last, giving me a sharp look. “Parker, Skin, whoever you are, I don't know if I'll ever be happy about this situation you've created with my daughter, but I'll listen to the women in my life. I'm going to go downstairs and get the account information so my little girl can get you checked out.”
“I appreciate it. Whatever the hell I look like to you, I take good care of her. That's never, ever gonna change.” I said it like I was swearing on my life, ignoring the sirens in my head, calling me to look her daddy dead in his eyes.
“I need your word on that.” He stepped closer, flattening his hands on the table, accepting the challenge in my eyes. “Because if I ever find out she's gotten hurt thanks to you, I know what club you belong to. I'll have the National Guard out there dismembering it.”
“Save the fucking call to the Governor,” I said. “I'll die before I ever let anything happen to this woman.”
“He's telling you the truth,” Meg said, running her hand gingerly through my hair. “Please, guys, can't we put the egos on hold until he's better? I promise we can work this through. He's saved me more times than I can count, and now it's my turn to return the favor.”
Satisfied, her dad nodded. Her ma served us some water and made small talk while he retrieved the paperwork. Then, folder in her hands, we headed back to my brothers in the truck, waiting behind the gate.
I waited 'til we were out by the gate, where the high floodlights didn't reach, before I grabbed her and pressed her to my lips.
“You're supposed to be sick,” she laughed, giving me that smile that made me want to fuck her through the pavement.
“Yeah, whatever, babe. You know I love you. I'm gonna get my shit checked out, and then it's gonna be a whirlwind moving you in. I'm not living one more night without you in my bed.”
“Oh, Skin,” she whimpered, all she could manage before she pushed her hot little lips against mine.
Oh was right. I'd be hearing her make that noise over and over, clenching on my cock. Whatever the fuck happened to me or the club, I'd be reminding her she was mine for the rest of my life.
* * * *
One Month Later
It was a frosty day, a couple weeks past Halloween. I'd closed up the cabin a couple days ago for winter, the place we'd been sharing for the last month, while I got all our shit together.
My head hadn't fucked me over too bad. A few days rest and a follow-up said it hadn't done permanent damage, and I hit everything hard as hell as soon as they let me off bed rest.
I let Meg off at work that morning. She was back at her dad's company, taking it more seriously than before, talking about following me into accounting or some shit. I didn't give a damn what she did, as long as she was happy and wearing my brand.
I couldn't wait for evening. It was finally moving day. We'd be hauling our junk into the new place we'd picked out, this cozy apartment just outside the city, overlooking the mountains.
Today was the first day of the rest of my life with this woman. Just had to get through church first.
I met up with Sixty and Crawl at the bar. We filed into the big meeting room, with all the brothers waiting.
Dust twirled the gavel in his hand, staring through the wall like usual. Or, at least, that's what he wanted everybody to believe. I knew he was looking at the club relics on the wall, all the photos and things that belonged to the guys who were gone, perched forever beneath our big black DEADLY PISTOLS MC flag.
Bit by bit, the Prez was fixing up the club into something his old man would've been proud of. Shit, today I could say the same about myself, knowing my dad's eyes would've popped if he could see me with the woman
I'd claimed.
And it was all fireworks from here. I'd have a ring on her finger before New Year's, and then we'd be working hard and long on our family.
My dick jerked when I thought about all the fucking we'd do to make our baby. Sweet, merciful Christ.
If I didn't strap her to the bed 'til she was knocked up, I'd lose my damned mind.
“Okay, boys, let's keep this short and sweet because some of you got other business.” He looked at me knowingly. “We've got girls to interview next week for the new skin shop in Knoxville. The place has got its pink lights and a liquor license, and it's all set to go. We just need some girls before we can open the floodgates to some serious money.”
Joker grunted. “Fuck, Prez, you know that ain't the real reason we'll be bringing in bank. Do we really need to spend so much time interviewing some chicks?”
“Damned right we do. The Deads are a few men short, but God knows the bastards aren't beneath using anybody as spies, even women. Hell, if we hadn't stopped 'em, they'd have sold Skin's old lady to some twisted fucker looking for a bitch to hide under his bed.”
My eyes darkened. I looked at the Prez and nodded, trying not to imagine the hellish fate that would've been on the line for my woman if I hadn't come along.
I'd saved her. And she'd done the same to me. That woman didn't owe me anything except her heart, and now that I had it, I was gonna keep it 'til we were both ashes.
“Let me put it out there now – who wants to screen the girls?”
Half a dozen hands with shit-eating grins behind them shot up like lightning. Everybody's except for me, Joker, and the Prez.
“Damn, Prez, just say the word. I'll have a fucking classified up on the web by nightfall if it gets us hiring pussy sooner.” Firefly grinned wide enough to chew the world up, his big biceps flexing as he slapped the table.
He'd been outta commission riding for a week or two with his torn up shoulder. But the bullet hadn't set him back much. I'd seen him in the bar last week, another hot blonde on his lap, sucking the horny bastard off while he sucked down the closest bottle of Jim.
“The sooner things are looking legit, the better.” Dust said, moving his eyes across us, and stopping on me again. “Skin, you've got all the financials together for our order up north, right?”