Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (13 page)

Freddy's fuckin' severed head sitting on the bed, taunting both of us, worse than seeing my own dead face looking back at me.

Summer walking in, freezing up on the spot, horror in her eyes. Didn't take me two fuckin' seconds to tell her to leave.

And Summer...fuck.

Fucking goddamn it to hell! That's what this was all about, wasn't it?

I couldn't lose anyone else. I couldn't lose her again.

Fucking couldn't! I'd pushed her away because I had to, get her the fuck away forever.

“Joker,” Dust said, sitting up straight in his seat, his pipe in one hand. “Look at me.”

Took forever to finally do it. I fucking hated how well he knew me, knew every man in this club, like the father most of us never had.

“Time to be straight. It ain't just Freddy or the war with the Deads eating you like a case of fuckin' termites.”

“No!” I growled, still denying it, even when it caused my damned heart to beat a million miles an hour.

“Yeah, fuck yeah. I know about the girl,” he said. My head jerked up, and I looked at him like hot death given a human face. “Skin told me the other day. So did Lion. Said she worked you over good, got you madder than a fuckin' hornet, so pissed off you covered the bitch in mud.”

Goddamned Skin. Fucking Lion.

I'd put our Treasurer into a coma for ratting me out, and that scruffy motherfucker, Lion, back in one.

“Honestly, makes me wanna crack your jaw for fuckin' with a lady like that,” Dust snarled, holding the flame on his skull-tipped lighter to his pipe. “Especially when she's the only one who's been able to get shit outta you for three years, only one besides that damned dog.”

“She's nobody,” I said coldly.

Yeah, another lie.

“Bullshit,” Dust said, taking a long pull on his pipe. “She's somebody you fucked and didn't wanna walk away from, or somebody who fucked you over. Maybe both. Point is, she's pulled your pin like a damned grenade, and that's dangerous as a knife to the throat when this club's about to swing its nuts harder than we did in a generation.”

“So, what, Prez?” I growled, shaking my head. “What the fuck are you telling me to do?”

“Ain't telling you shit, brother. You're a grown man. That's for you to figure out. You can put two and two together. You know what you've gotta do already. That's not coming from me. It can't, and it won't.” He held the pipe, tipped his face up, and blew a strong string of thick smoke toward the ceiling, where it hung like a thunderhead.

“Straighten your shit out,” he growled. “Clear your head as much as you can before we ride into Georgia, guns blazing. Do whatever the fuck it takes so that when we return to Knoxville with bags of bloody Deads colors in our saddlebags, you can live with the brothers. Live with yourself. Live with us again, Joker, without acting like you're three goddamned seconds away from ramming your blade into some poor bastard's throat.”

Sage advice. Wise, ruthless, and completely fuckin' infuriating.

“We done here yet?” I said, standing up.

“Yeah. Don't let the door hit you in the ass,” Dust growled, clearly disappointed.

I headed out, and went straight for my room. Last thing I wanted was rejoining the brothers drinking and laughing at the bar.

A couple girlie voices cut through their chatter. Somebody's old lady must've shown up. Or maybe a couple bubbly sluts for the single guys, bitches who'd just as soon as ride a brother's cock for a jolt to their pussy and a hopeless stab at being a club wife.

One big, happy ass biker family.

Turned my stomach.

I couldn't relate. I couldn't fuckin' have it.

The last three years, I'd drank and fucked and joined in the big roasts with all my boys. But I didn't fuckin' smile. Didn't feel it when the men I'd sworn my life to sat around me, didn't even feel it when I was buried in some bitch to my balls, hate fucking her in between swigs of booze.

Riding helped. So did the dog at my feet, who came over when I dropped on my ass, rocking the shitty bed. Bingo whined, forcing me to scratch his head.

Aw, fuck it. Today, I sat up, leaned down, and hugged the greedy bastard.

He licked my face once before I pulled away.

I loved him because he didn't ask stupid fucking questions, or bust my balls over the past. He loved my sorry ass because he didn't know any better. Didn't understand how permanently fucked up I'd gotten three summers ago.

Damned dog knew too much about me. Only one person walking this planet really did.

I'd pushed her away. Fuckin'
flung
her outta my life like she'd burn me down.

Just like I swore I always would if I ever saw her face again. Summer had the only face in my memory as cruel and unforgettable as Freddy's.

I couldn't get her killed, letting her back, and I'd make her hate my evil ass more than she already did.

But fuck,
why
had she come back? Nothing made sense about it.

Why the hell had she tracked me down after three damned years of nothing?

Bingo whined again, licking my hand, just like he could sense the hell roiling my mind. I looked down into his sad, dark eyes, smoothing his fur 'til I saw that tail wag.

“Don't worry about it, boy. I'm just flushing some shit.”

Some shit. Yeah, fuck me.

If only it were as easy as pulling a damned lever.

No, ever since she'd come to me, not once but fuckin' twice, pushing deeper into my world at Grandpa's home...I'd been the one who walked away covered in shit.

Five more minutes, I sat with my dog, the same nightmares stewing in my brain. Decided I only had two choices.

I could throw the dog a bone, walk out to the bar, and steal a bitch from Lion, Tin, or Sixty for the night. I could try for the millionth time to bury my ruined life and wake up with another hangover and an awkward little girl hanging around my neck.

Fuck that.
It hadn't worked before, and it damned sure wasn't gonna start.

Option B was even more fucked up, but at least it'd be a stab at something different, instead of the same old shit that never worked.

Right about now, Option B sounded pretty fuckin' good, because it meant answers.

Standing, I patted the big dog's head, then walked him over to the cushion in the corner, laying him down for the night. “I'll be back in a few hours,” I said, reaching into the cabinet and pulling out a treat.

A couple minutes later, I had my helmet locked on my head. My bike droned steadily on the open road.

Normally, the purr comforted me, no different than every other brother wearing this patch.

Didn't do a damned thing for me today except ratchet up the tension, add to all the bitter questions sticking like gum in my throat.

I had to find Summer. Had to ask her why the fuck she'd come back. Had to know why she still wanted these lips on hers when it was totally obvious she'd kissed a dead man who wanted nothing to do with her.

Something about all this didn't add up. And if I couldn't figure out my own shit, like the Prez wanted, then at least I'd take a crack at hers.

* * *

S
eddon never paid anybody shit
. Knowing how harsh our old hometown could be, plus seeing the rusted out shitbox she drove, I knew she had about two places she could be staying with her money, if she hadn't blown town already.

I came up empty handed at the first place, a run down dump just a few blocks from the Heel. The ratty looking bastard at the front desk told me nobody named Summer Olivers ever checked in.

Second motel, a strong runner up for cheapest shit stack in town, turned up the same damned thing. An old, middle aged woman with a thick European accent told me there wasn't anybody with Summer's name staying there, even when I asked her twice.

What the fuck?
She'd either changed her legal name – not too fuckin' likely – or somebody else had brought her here on their dime, under their name.

The hairs on the back of my neck pricked up.

If she was here, then I definitely wasn't leaving empty handed.

I'd walk the whole damned lot, crawl up on that cracked balcony, and look through every fuckin' window if I had to, just to find her.

Figuring out what the fuck was going on here wasn't just about me anymore. It might easily be club biz, too, and I never defaulted on the patch.

I'd parked my bike next to the front door. Decided to take it down the next street, put it out of sight, in case there was anybody here waiting for the Pistols with a bullet. I was rounding the corner, pulling out toward the road, when I saw the shit in the bushes.

A greasy looking sonofabitch crouched down. Hiding. A rifle in his hands, perched on his shoulder, one eye on the sights.

The laser cut straight through somebody's window. How bad did I want to bet that was Summer's?

Revving my engine told me. I didn't stop, didn't think, didn't second guess as I plowed my bike straight into the shitty crop of trees.

Fucker never saw me coming. He screamed when my front tire rolled over him. I punched the brakes, stopping me from skidding into the wall.

I jumped off, holding my arm over my mouth, fighting smoke and dirt kicked up in the air while I went for my nine. Had to kick a couple branches aside before I felt the gun on the ground.

My boot knocked it further away from fuckface, who was on his side, his leg torn to shit, looking at me.

He was holding a pair of shitty looking night vision goggles. One look at his cut told me everything I needed to know – the severed hand sewn into his side.

Our mortal enemies were here. In our own goddamned territory. Maybe aiming through my fuckin' girl's window!

“Fuck, shit, please,” he sputtered, holding a hand over his face. “Hatch is gonna –“

There wasn't time to contemplate all the fuckin' whys, and not a spare second for mercy.

My gun barked, slamming a bullet through his brain. Easy.

Finding Summer and getting her the fuck outta there before anybody else saw this shit show wasn't gonna be as simple. I stood up, dusted myself off, took one look at the window he'd been aiming for and ran.

Never bothered knocking. My boot slammed into the door and flattened it, leaving me a clear path.

I stepped in and saw – what the fuck? Summer in the corner. With a kid. Clutching him close to her chest, his little face tucked into her bosom, her hands across his ears.

“Joker?” she whimpered, her eyes going wide, as if she couldn't believe it was me.

Well, fuck. That made two of us.

Couldn't
believe
the fuckin' shock and awe I was seeing right in front of me. Shit that stirred up a hundred more questions than there were answers.

“Who else?” I growled, stepping into the room, coming up to her, trying to do my damnedest not to startle the kid.

“I thought we were done for,” she said, tipping her head for a second to kiss the little boy through his dark hair. “I mean, when I heard the bike, and saw him go down, I expected it to be one more of them. I need to –“

“Babe, you're gonna shut your fuckin' mouth right now, is what you're gonna do.”

Boom. Lips sealed. Still just as sweet and biteable as ever before, but fuck if they didn't make my blood boil, because I had proof right in front of me that she'd been lying about an awful lot.

Shit, what else was she hiding?

“Where are your keys? You're coming to my place. I just killed a fuckin' man out there. We've got about ten minutes, maybe less, before some jackass here phones it in and every cop in Knoxville hits us like vultures.”

She didn't dare fight. Just looked at me, stopped breathing for a second, and then closed her eyes and nodded.

“Over there.” Her little hand pointed to a big green purse over in the corner.

I walked over, ripped it up, and carried it over to her, pushing it into her free hand. “Listen, when I say go, you're gonna get in your car. Follow me every fuckin' mile like your life depends on it. Because babe, I ain't shittin', it absolutely does.”

The toe of my boot pushed against something on the floor. I looked down, saw it was a busted out screen. A shitty looking cellphone, like the kind the club used for burners, now smashed into a couple pieces.

“Um, there's an explanation, Jackson. I promise you, it isn't what you –“

“Quiet,” I growled, pushing my hand over her mouth. “Didn't tell you to start squawking to me about a buncha fuckin' questions I haven't even asked. That comes later. Right now, you walk the fuck out behind me, strap in the kid, and don't move 'til you see me pulling out on my bike.”

The kid looked up just then. I looked away just as fuckin' fast, hoping she'd think it was because I didn't want to startle him.

Had to follow my own advice. Had to get them out of here. Had to take them to my apartment, put the kid down for a nap, before I laid into her.

But Jesus Christ. One second was all I needed to see it, to see the eyes that blew my world apart.

Fucking fuck.

I stopped every nerve in my body from having a conniption fit 'til I was on my bike. I walked her out like a robot, covered her while she put the kid in his seat, then climbed into the driver's side herself.