Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(11)

All the woulda-coulda-shoulda bullshit stung more now that our old hometown was completely f*cked. Seeing this place go to the jackals made me wish I'd taken a few more mementos, like Summertime's cherry.

This place is only f*cked for now, I told myself. Ain't forever. We'll be back someday, when the club's grown bigger, stronger, and its hauling shovels to bury the Deads.

We'll be back for grandpa, for Tina, for soon-to-be bankrupt Robby.

For Summer.

I went straight behind the bar this time and grabbed a whole bottle of booze. The lean, wiry man playing bartender tonight didn't stop me when he saw my patch.

The ship was going down, and I doubt he'd have cared even if I weren't wearing the colors that taught everybody instant respect. I took a swig of pure fire and plowed through the double doors, heading through the kitchen for the back of the building, where I could take in some fresh air and sauce myself alone.

Burgers and sausages cooking up punched me in the nose. The sizzle on the grill reminded me of the last time I was back here, the night I'd kicked that grabby little *'s dick off with Piece.

Wasn't just me back here. My eyes scanned the scene in front of me, taking a quick nip from the bottle, looking at something fine.

When the f*ck had this place added the chick with the ivory skin and the pert, plump ass rolling out her jeans? Old Robby took on too much help, one more f*ck up driving him into the ground.

The new girl working the grill had her back turned toward me. She worked alone. Long, smooth, dark hair rolled down her shoulders in waves.

Spitting image of little Summer, if she'd plumped up and filled out the way a woman oughta, pushing into her twenties.

Then she turned around and I nearly dropped the f*ckin' bottle. Familiar green eyes hit me harder than the whiskey soaking my system.

Shit, f*ck, and damn.

Her eyes lit up, went wide, and a soft smile tugged at her lips. Same lips I'd kissed like no tomorrow, imagining how good they'd feel wrapped around my cock.

Fuck.

Fucking hell and a half.

If the urge to pick up where we'd left off that starry night didn't blow my brains out, the need to get her sweet ass naked might do it first.

“Hey,” she said, her voice as soft and pure as ever.

Clenching my bottle hard, I kept my cool. All I could do not to drop it when I started to think about slapping, grinding, and bouncing that ass off my balls.

“Didn't know you were working tonight,” I said, shaking off my stupor and slamming more whiskey down my throat.

She raised an eyebrow. “Didn't know you were coming into my kitchen to stand around and drink.”

Fuck, that mouth. My eyes went straight to her lips, and then trailed lower.

She quickly turned over a few burgers before throwing her spatula down, walking over, sizing me up.

Yeah, no mistake. The girl had filled out real f*ckin' nice the last few years. I hadn't realized how nice 'til I saw her up close, marveling how her baby fat turned into curves.

Curves I wanted to grab, slap, and shake underneath me. My cock pulsed like a charge about to blow.

“Thought you might show up to see us off. Your granddad's been here every day all week, ever since he heard about it from my uncle.”

“Yeah, well, shit changes,” I said, feeling the sweet burn of whiskey roiling my guts, radiating to my greedy f*ckin' middle. My dick strained in my pants. “Sorry to hear this place is closing. Helluva blow for this town. Shit, a man'll have to go twenty, thirty miles outside town if he wants a drink.”

“I know. Uncle Robby can't hack it anymore. The hours are too long, and expenses just keep rising. He'll be lucky to shore himself up in retirement at this rate. I was going to take over the bar, do the drinks, originally, but...you know.” She shrugged, her shoulders rolling soft and sad as her voice.

Yeah, I knew.

Pitch black depressing shit had become the norm in Seddon. This place was a goddamned black hole, and it wasn't getting any brighter as the years rolled on.

Twisted my guts up in knots, but there wasn't shit I could do about it.

Not yet, anyway. Someday, that was gonna change. Saving this place wasn't in my reach, but the club's? Maybe.

“How many more sandwiches you got to finish up?” I asked her, nodding at the grill.

“Just a couple, the works for all the regulars who asked. Everybody else is too busy out there drinking and dancing to throw in an order. Tina's closing up the kitchen early tonight so we can party.”

“Make one more,” I said, my stomach growling.

I needed a snack to distract myself from the greater hunger nipping at my balls. Last thing I'd wanted tonight was getting myself into trouble with this woman, and the urge was growing every f*ckin' second I looked at her, all her young beauty raising my cock like a flagpole.

Hard to believe nobody had taken that cherry yet, if she hadn't f*cked around on the side.

Surely, she had. No f*ckin' way she was a virgin – but the slim possibility she might be kicked me in the dick so hard I wanted to slam her against the wall, shove my lips on hers, and find out.

“Excuse me?” she said, folding her arms. “You know, wearing that patch doesn't excuse good manners.”

“Another burger,” I growled. “Please. I'd like a bite. Nobody makes that shit like you and Tina. Having a taste of something good will give me one more memory to chew on before this place goes belly up.”