Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)
Nicole Snow
Description
WHEN HE FINDS OUT ABOUT OUR BABY...OH, GOD.
SUMMER
I didn't have an outlaw's baby. Honest.
I didn't run, didn't hide our son, didn't suffer alone. There's not a bastard with a gun to my head, sending me running to the bad boy I left behind. Making me lie to everyone.
Yeah, I'm full of it.
Here's the truth – I'm frozen because I'm finally face-to-face with the wild, gorgeous man with the icy stare who lit me on fire three summers ago. Joker rocked me to my core, left me with a kid, and it's just a matter of time until he discovers everything.
Never have an outlaw's baby. They're cute, but they come with serious strings attached.
Like Joker's kiss. I can already taste it, the growl rising in his throat. Coming for my lips, coming for the truth, coming for me.
JOKER
Pure hell tore my heart out one night three years ago. There ain't room in that hole for Summer, a lyin' spitfire I swore I'd never see again.
I screamed, I shoved, I told her to get out, and stay out. Made myself numb so I'd forget about those lips I used to own, or having her between the sheets.
Worked like a charm 'til...the kid.
I know he's mine. Know something evil isn't adding up. Know he's the first light I've had in the darkness for years, and Summer's the second.
If she hates me, I don't give a damn. This baby changes everything.
She ain't running anymore. Neither am I.
I'll put my name on her sweet skin. Hear her beg the way she used to. Remind her that a woman never has an outlaw's kid without sharing his bed, his bike, his brand. Always.
The Outlaw Love books are stand alone romance novels featuring unique lovers and happy endings. No cliffhangers, no cheating, and a secret baby surprise! This is Joker and Summer's story in the Deadly Pistols MC series.
1
Times Gone By (Summer)
A real man leaves his shadow hanging over you, even after he's gone.
Three years to the day since he left, and I was still blinded by his.
Go ahead, judge me.
I wasn't stupid, or weak. God, I'd shed those words long ago after everything I'd been through since Jackson Taylor.
Illusions could sometimes fog up my heart, but they didn't get to my head. I knew who he was, what he was, and why he'd left his big, bad impression stamped on my heart.
And I knew the future, too – clear as f*cking crystal.
The bastard was gone. He wasn't coming back.
That's what I told myself every single day, ringing up customers at the Jiffy Hen, hoping I'd lose another day without having to think much at all.
Didn't always work out that way. Hell, maybe never.
A girl has plenty of time to think about right and wrong when she's trying to pass the time. The past reaches up, takes her by the throat, and doesn't let go until she's shaking, cursing herself.
I thought about Jackson constantly, and I hated it. Day in, day out.
The passion, the loss, the empty hole he'd carved in my chest, the void that wouldn't heal, no matter how much time passed.
My body missed him too. My nipples still turned to pebbles every time I thought about that night, our last night together. That was the night he'd taken me the hardest, over and over, leaving a piece of himself behind forever.
I lived in his shadow then, except it was a whole lot more real.
His shadow crawled all over me like a furious demon that night, clinging to his body over mine. Jackson slammed every ounce of strength he had between my legs while his hand jerked my hair around like reigns.
He'd owned me.
I'd let him.
I'd loved it.
I cried out when he tensed and exploded, filling me, bringing me off so hard I scratched his back raw.
He might've been an absolute rat bastard, but the boy could sure f*ck.
I had living proof of it waiting for me at home. The fact that he left me wet and wanting after all these years said something about the black magic he had in every kiss, every movement, every single time he shoved me under him and shook me to my core.
Of course, I hated it. I hated everything about it – the memory, the want, the prison of this life without him.
I even hated that I hated it. It wasn't fair.
God. God f*cking damn it!
My eyes always pinched shut at the worst times, when it became too much, fighting back the tears.
I'd battled them ten thousand times by now. I lost more often than I wanted to admit, feeling the hot tears rushing out when I was alone in the backroom on my breaks, or in my car, or changing another diaper alone.
The memories chased me like wolves, night and day.
Relentlessly, hounding me, straight into the dark hollow I called my life.
I remembered him every time a loud motorcycle roared by on the busted up street.
The worst were the sticky summer nights, listening to the bugs humming in the trees through my crappy apartment window. We were entering the thickest nights now, here in Georgia, as alive with life and noise as they were long.
Those were the nights when I sat in my PJs after dinner, bad TV yammering in the background, fighting for distractions.