Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(27)
There wasn't any time to wonder what the hell he was talking about. His hand struck the side of my face like a head-on collision.
I blacked out before I even hit the floor.
4
Down and Dirty (Joker)
Sometimes I thought about what a f*ckin' idiot I used to be.
Thought about that night I lost Piece, my grandpa lost his freedom, and I left behind the shithole town that had the only woman I ever gave a shit about f*cking more than once.
Those thoughts drove me to the range, or else the closest bottle of good Tennessee brown honey.
Today was one of those f*ckin' days. I'd just got outta church, listening to the Prez yammering about the latest big plans.
Bingo was on his leash. Had to hold him tight to keep him from galloping around like a tornado when he felt the wind brush his face.
The big hairy Irish Wolfound licked my face when I leaned down to put him on his chain. Damned dog loved to run all the f*ck over, and we normally let him, but not anywhere the brothers were shooting their guns.
“Good boy,” I growled, reaching into my pack for a fresh bone. He barked excitedly as I tossed it on the ground in front of him, watching as he dug into it, happier than any creature had any right to be from something so f*ckin' simple.
If I could still smile, that shit would've done it.
Didn't take much to please a dog, long as he was fed, stroked, and walked. Took a lot more to please a man.
Took even more to undo the bad shit. And good f*ckin' luck ever wiping out the truly awful, tragic stain on a man's soul.
I hadn't figured out how. All I had was a release valve for the blinding rage out here.
Soon as my nine was in my hands, that demon energy flowed out of me, bit by bit. Flamed out in each and every bullet I fired at the torn wooden targets and weather mannequins we used for practice.
Taking aim at a half-cracked face peeking out behind some old boards, I fired. Missed. Gritted my teeth 'til they almost f*ckin' broke and tried again.
Had to kill these venom thoughts, one shot at a time.
One bullet for the good times in Seddon, at Robby's old bar, places and people as done as this plastic motherf*cker was about to be.
One more for the sick, sorry f*cks who still owed a blood debt to me. They'd ripped apart the only f*ckin' family I'd ever had, killed my twin brother, and burned him in a barbecue pit. Put the old man in a place where he couldn't take a f*ckin' piss without some nosy cocksucker leaning over his shoulder.
Pulled the trigger again for Summertime. Whatever the f*ck I'd said to her that night when I was blind to everything except raw bloodlust, revenge, and hate, it worked.
The dummy's head exploded into a thousand pieces on the third try. I grunted to myself, satisfied, knowing it'd be at least ten minutes before the urge to kill swept over me like a fresh tidal wave.
Those evil words stayed with me, even after I stuffed my gun in its holster and watched the dog, chewing his boney treat to a mess.
Evil or not, they'd done their job. They'd kept her the f*ck away. They'd saved me from the demons for a few more hours.
Only goddamned thing I ever asked for.
I'd been outta my f*ckin' mind to think I could ever bring a girl like her into this sick, toxic life. Sure as shit wouldn't pull her deeper, drowning her, painting a goddamned target on her back like Freddy and Grandpa, or all the other boys in this club and their old ladies.
Fuck the past. Fuck it all.
“Bingo, you big damned badass,” a voice growled. I looked up to see Firefly standing there, our big Enforcer, a new rifle hanging over his shoulder, leaning down to pat my dog on the head while he snarled into his bone.
“Leave him be. He's chewing his heart out.”
Firefly smiled. “Don't take much, does it? I'll bring him a new one next week. Whole f*ckin' club might as well get its jollies in before the Prez takes us to the grinder.”
Drawing my switchblade, I stiffened up, standing over a stump with a spare sharpener we used to keep our shit stabby. “He ain't taking us anywhere, brother. It's the goddamned Deads screaming for blood.”
“Can't argue. Won't be easy, though. Some of our boys got a good chance of getting shot to shit on this run. Deads got the numbers. We've got the brains, the balls, and bigger f*ckin' bullets. Only question is if it'll be enough.”
I snorted, ripping the sharpener up and sliding my knife through it. “You're going soft like Skinny boy, Firefly. Ever since you married that chick and knocked her up. You're talkin' like you're afraid.”
“Afraid? No.” I could practically hear the steam hissing out his mouth. “Fuck yeah, family changes a man. I'm gonna have a kid hanging on my arm in five or six months. I ain't going back on anything the Prez orders, and neither is Skin, because both of us have got a f*ck of a lot more to fight for here than you do.”
My eyes tried to dig a hole through his skull. He didn't have a f*ckin' clue.
Firefly and Skin, they'd go off like bombs for their women, their kids, putting the patch last. For me, these colors came first, second, and third, equal partner to the bloodlust boiling me alive for over three f*ckin' years.
None of the brothers knew what really happened to Piece.
They didn't know about the blood oath Prez promised me the night I reported in. Didn't know he'd told me to keep it quiet because we didn't have the strength to fight like we needed to in those days.