Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(41)

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 f*ckin' 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 f*ckin' whys, and not a spare second for mercy.

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

Finding Summer and getting her the f*ck 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 f*ck? 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, f*ck. That made two of us.

Couldn't believe the f*ckin' 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 f*ckin' mouth right now, is what you're gonna do.”

Boom. Lips sealed. Still just as sweet and biteable as ever before, but f*ck 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 f*ckin' 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 f*ckin' 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 f*ckin' questions I haven't even asked. That comes later. Right now, you walk the f*ck 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 f*ckin' 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 f*ck.

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.

Then I hauled ass to my bike, got on, and roared out, checking the mirror carefully to make sure her rusted little car hung close.

Small miracle I didn't lose my shit on the way back. The sharp, numb focus that always came over me when I'd dealt with life and death before triumphed again. But it got the biggest f*ckin' test in my life since the day after Piece died, when Prez had to hold me back, before I went lone wolf against his killers and got myself wrecked.

That kid. That beautiful, mysterious, spear-through-my-f*ckin'-chest toddler...I'd grill her about it later, no bullshit.

But I didn't have to. Deep down, I already knew the answer.

The second I saw that bright hazel glow in his eyes, I knew he was mine.

He was my brother.

He was my grandpa.

He was me.

He was a Taylor by blood.

The only man in this world who could've made him was looking back at me in my bike's mirrors, his f*cked up eyes flashing with a thousand kinds of rage and a haze of tears.

I had a son. And the bitch I'd once loved had f*ckin' lied to me about it for God only knew how long.





7





Wag the Dog (Summer)





Oh, God.

Holy hell.

Oh, crap.

I tried not to hyperventilate on the long, painful journey down the highway, straight to the exit on the other side of town.

The last thing I needed was to freak out and wreck the car.