Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (2 page)

Great. Now, I'd have to scream for Tina, hoping she could hear me out in the bar. I couldn't leave the idiot here. If he started a fire, or burned himself...the bar couldn't take that kind of damage.

Besides, there was already some kind of commotion out there, judging by the shouts behind the door.

“God, just...I'm trying to be nice. Give me the spatula already, you dick!” I spat, reaching for his hand, losing my control.

Professional hadn't gotten me anywhere so far. It was time to fight for it, and hope he'd give up, stumble away from the kitchen.

He stopped, burning the burgers. Holding the metal spatula away from me, he slammed it against the cook top. “What'd you say to me, bitch? Did you just call me a 'dick?'”

The asshole heard me loud and clear. He didn't ask again, just lunged for me, pulling me into his arms. I spun, careful not to fall face first into the sizzling grill, clawing at his neck.

“Stupid ass trashy slut! Why don't you forget about the food? Me and my buddies would rather have a piece of something else.”

I froze, beating feebly against his back. His hands moved swiftly, defiantly, rummaging up my back, reaching for my bra.

This. Can't. Be. Happening.

Oh, but it was.

The bad day I'd tried to turn around was about to get a whole lot worse. I didn't have any hope of fighting off this drunken animal.

Time to scream. I opened my mouth and screamed bloody murder, until it seemed like my lungs would rip in two.

“Ah, fuck! You'll bust my fucking eardrums. Shut up!” He clumsily stuffed a hand over my mouth.

My vision blurred, and time seemed to slow down. He pushed me against the counter, holding me down, running his filthy tongue along his lips while the meat sizzled behind him.

I was too stunned, too terrified, to hear the freight train barreling toward us. The door burst open, and a split second later, they were on us.

Two big men clad in leather slammed into the frat boy so hard I nearly went flying to the ground with him. I caught the edge of the counter, screaming, and watched as two of the meanest looking twins I'd ever seen laid into the drunk.

I didn't need to see their faces a second time to know my would-be monster had just gotten himself into a universe of hurt.

The Taylor boys were
bad
news. The worst, actually, ever since they'd both joined the Deadly Pistols MC, a biker gang just over the border in Tennessee.

Rubbing my eyes in disbelief, I took a hard, long look at the killer angels in front of me.

I saw double. They were identical, except for the wild ink going up their muscular arms.

Twice the savage energy, twice the grief, twice the primal beauty.

Ruggedly smooth, chiseled as the Blue Ridge Mountains. Both boys were bigger than life. Just walking, talking, ass-kicking contradictions who swept in like a hurricane and left legends in their wake.

Seddon didn't have superheroes, and too many petty villains to count. But we did have the Taylor brothers, Jackson and Freddy. For this little town, they were enough, a two man freight train who left shattered bottles, blood, and desperate women wherever they went.

They'd come into the bar before, and barely said a word. Sometimes with their grandpa, Don. I'd served them once or twice, losing my usual pleasantries in sheepish whispers. They usually found a quiet corner and talked among themselves, asking for beers and shots of whiskey, sometimes a burger or two on the side.

It wasn't my first time seeing them. But never like
this.

Seeing Jackson give me the evil eye, sizing me up, before his face smoothed back into stoic calm...that was new. So was destroying a man in front me. The cold efficiency in every blow they pounded into the frat boy made me gasp.

It all happened so fast. They'd saved me, but I had to remember, these weren't good men.

Supposedly, they'd done all kinds of terrible things. I believed the legends, sure, but I also knew they tipped well.

Like,
really
well.

My best day ever working here was the last time I'd waited on their table. I'd feared the worst, tip-toeing around with their orders, triple checking to make sure everything that came out on my tray was picture perfect.

There hadn't been a single complaint. Instead, I'd found a tip for the same amount as their tab waiting for me after they left, leaving my jaw dragging on the floor.

Now, they finished laying into the devil rolling on the ground, begging for his life before each brother delivered a couple more kicks to his ribs. Frat boy couldn't breathe, much less whine anymore.

I backed away slowly into the corner, wondering if they were about to kill this kid in my kitchen.

Jackson and Freddy weren't much older than the college boy, come to think of it, but they carried themselves like men in every way. They seemed older, darker, somehow wiser.

If it wasn't for their patches, I wouldn't have been able to tell them apart. They were both as big and beautiful as they were dangerous, two hazel-eyed, dark haired brutes packed with muscle.

Jesus, how was I supposed to talk to them if I couldn't remember them by name?
Think, Summer, think.

Once, Uncle Robby spelled it out. He told me Freddy had the dagger on his leather cut, underneath his name patch. Jackson wore the smoking pistol, and he'd recently added two more, blood red patches underneath his name. Both skulls.

They'd taken road names since joining the Pistols. Anybody who didn't address them properly was begging for trouble.

JOKER, Jackson's patch said. Freddy's said PIECE.

Two ridiculous, weird biker names that should've left an ordinary person rolling their eyes. But there was no laughing, no doubt, no derision while they brutally knocked some sense into the jackass on the floor.

“That's enough, brother. We don't wanna lay him out. Can't have this little cocksucker bleeding all over the fuckin' kitchen back here,” Piece growled, pulling back his twin brother.

Joker wanted to keep going. He stepped away reluctantly, his clenched teeth showing in a rough smile. He looked at me, stepping out of his brother's hold, extending a hand.

“You all right? We both came running, soon as we heard the scream.”

My lips trembled.
I'm fine
, I wanted to say. Just brush it off like it was no big deal, but my eighteen year old brain cracked.

“No!” I squeaked, tumbling forward into his grip.

He held me. That shocked me to hell and back.

Jackson “Joker” Taylor was the last man in the world who should've swept a crying, down-on-her-luck teenager into his arms. But he did, swallowing me up in a bear hug as big as the world, holding me as all the crap I'd suffered for the last year or two came pouring out.

“Piece, drag the kid to the door and throw him the fuck out. His posse'll follow as soon as they see him hit the pavement. We've busted him up enough. They'll shit their pants when they see. Make sure they pay Tina, too.”

“No, no, it isn't right. I didn't even get a chance to finish their order,” I whined, too sad to see how little sense that made just then.

“Babe, don't you fuckin' worry about it. We got it taken care of. Everything. We'll make sure none of these shitheads ever show their rat faces anywhere around here again.”

Frat boy groaned as Piece scooped him up. I listened to Joker's twin start humming a country tune as he pulled him out through the kitchen, no different than dragging out the trash.

Tina came rushing in a second later. Her eyes bugged out when she saw me wrapped up in Joker's arms.

“Holy Lord and Moses, Summer! What's going on back here? Should I get the police?”

“Fuck no,” Joker growled, turning his head to face her, without pushing me from his arms. “It's all under control, Miss Tina. Run along. I'll help the girl find her way home.”

“You, Jackson? But her shift's not over 'til...”

“It's okay, Tina.” Sniffing to clear my sinuses, I looked up, hating myself for being such a mess. “I'm going to stand by for a few more evening orders and then I'll go. Don't know when Uncle Robby will be back. He burned his hand real bad. I'll find a way home.”

“Jackson, she doesn't get on that motorcycle unless you have a helmet for her,” Tina said sharply, folding her arms.

“Dammit, Tina, it's Joker now.
Joker.
You use that Jackson shit again, we're gonna have a problem. Piece and me just did the bar a favor, unloading those motherfuckers. Make sure they're paid up when you check the counter.”

Sighing, Tina threw up her hands. “Okay, whatever. I don't have a clue what this is about. You just...learn to keep your distance. Summer's a good girl. Her mama, Christine, don't need more problems, worrying about her daughter coming home with a guy like you. She's too sick for that crap.”

Joker gave her an icy stare on her way out. His muscles hardened around me, and for the first time, I noticed how huge he really was.

He could've hoisted me up without breaking a sweat. Probably could've broken rocks all day long, just like the old timers talked about, back when the mines boomed.

He must've been two hundred pounds of perfect muscle. Maybe more.

Just a tall, dark, and dangerously handsome twenty-something year old man. Walking, talking, killing steel stuffed into human skin and slathered with scary tattoos.

I looked up, slowly easing myself out of his arms. God, why was it so hard to leave?

“Thanks for the help,” I said softly, having a hard time keeping my eyes on his.

Those dark, hazel gems in his face had a grip even stronger than his hands. Every time I met them, I fell in.

I wanted to keep staring, sinking, defying every warning I'd ever heard about these men.

“Don't bother,” he said, running a hand through his short, but thick hair. “This'll all be our territory someday, babe. We'd be fools not to lay down the law. We already own the fuck outta Tennessee. Gonna have Georgia, too, and the least my brother and I can do is start keeping order in our own damned town.”

“You really grew up here?” I asked, walking over to the grill to push the badly burned burgers off it. “I mean, I already know you did. It's just hard to believe. This town makes too many boring men.”

He chuckled, a rich, throaty sound that tempted me to get up close and personal. “Born and raised. Still come back every week or two to see our grandpa. Owe that man my left nut, and maybe the right one, too.”

Crude. I smiled anyway, eyeing him over my shoulder while he realized how rough he was talking, muttering an apology.

“Shit, let's pretend you didn't hear that. How long 'til the end of your shift?” he asked.

“Maybe another hour. I just need to cover for Tina a little longer in case anybody wants food. Sounds like the crowd is clearing out after the rumble back here...”

“Yeah, my brother's out there, playing peacemaker. Don't worry. We'll make sure those fuckers gave your boss every cent she was owed. We'll leave some extra for the mess from our own pockets on top of it.” His lips twitched, and he looked down at the blood drying near his boot.

“You don't owe us anything else,” I said nervously. “You and Freddy have already been a big help. Really.”

“Babe, his name's Piece. Mine's Joker. Get it straight.” He looked at me sharply, and I nodded. Then he cocked his head. “Say, what the fuck was yours again?”

“Summer,” I said, feeling my cheeks turn beet red. “Summer Olivers.”

“Ah, yeah, grandpa used to see your ma to hash out his VA shit at the bank. Christine, right?”

I nodded. Talking about mama reminded me I really needed to check in with her soon, just in case she needed anything on my way home.

She was stocked up on prescriptions. The days when she'd ask me for snacks or water were becoming less and less, the nausea catching up with her a little more by the day.

I tried not to think about it.

“You don't have to hang around if you have somewhere else to be,” I said. “Really, Joker. I can clean up and find my way home.”

“Fuck that. You're going for a ride, whether you want to or not. Trust me, babe, it'll do you some good to get the wind in your hair for a few minutes after the shit that went down back here.”

“Okay, well...fine.” I looked at him and smiled, instantly dropping my eyes when he returned the glance. “I'll wrap up as soon as I can.”

“Whatever. You let me know when you're ready to go. I've got a beer to finish out in the bar. Say the word and I'll help you mop this shit up before we go.” His boot tapped the bloody smear where they'd wiped frat boy's face on the floor, after they'd finished kicking the hell out of him.

I watched Joker turn smartly and disappear through the swinging doors.

Then I doubled over, propping myself up on the counter next to the grill. Waves of confusion washed over me.

Christ. What the hell was wrong with me?

A hundred knots twisted my stomach. It wasn't just all the recent shock. The tension tugged a little lower, tingling, kicking up a heatwave that made me sweat and flush.

It wasn't just because the man standing in front of me was a crazy, unpredictable thug.

Honestly, my eyes couldn't see it every time I looked at him.

They saw the rugged, muscular beast who'd narrowly saved me from a nightmare.

They only saw power, forced me to imagine how easily the same big, strong arms that sheltered me against his chest could throw me around, undress me, roam every inch of me...

This man punched, kicked, and swore without any apologies. Would he kiss the same way?

Closing my eyes, I stumbled through the rest of my shift, trying to ignore crazy emotions slashing through me like comets.

I called mama to check in with her just before I wrapped up. She asked me if everything was fine, and I lied through my teeth.

She couldn't know about what went down today. If she heard about the frat boy, it would kill her. So would finding out that I was about to ride home with one of the two biggest, meanest bastards in Seddon.

Whatever happened next was private. Between me, Jackson Taylor, and God.

Oh, crap.