Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(49)

“What's eating his ass?” Dust growled, soon as he was outta the room.

“You and his sis,” I said. “That f*ckin' drama ain't my business. I've got plenty to worry about, so you'd better hash it out with Firefly privately. We gotta have every man behind our backs.”

“Yeah, I figured. I'm more worried about you.”

My eyebrows went up. “Don't bother. You think I can't handle this f*ckin' girl and my own son?”

“I think you will, long as you keep a lid on your shit and make it home alive, after we're done with these devils in Georgia. You've swept through enough blood to know how it always goes down. One mistake,” he growled. “That's all it takes to put a bullet in a brother's brain, or get a blade in his spine, putting him off of anything except sucking shit through straws 'til he's gone. You can't let this shit get to you 'til the job's done.”

“You're bullshitting me, Prez,” I said, standing up, my blade in my hand.

“No,” he said quietly. “I ain't. You're the one standing there with that nervous f*ckin' tick in your trigger finger.”

I looked down in horror. My knife was trembling again, incrementally, like something crawled up my wrist and gave me the shakes.

“Fuck!” It clattered to the floor, and I crouched down and picked it up, tucking it back into my belt.

“Yeah, boy. That's you coming back, after losing Piece put you in a f*ckin' coma all these years.” Dust blew out the last embers in his pipe, before stuffing it into his pocket. “Whatever you're going through, it ain't gonna be easy. But I need you to listen, and listen f*ckin' good – the club comes first. Your little family's already a part of it, whether you claim this chick or not. If you think you're less than a hundred percent before we're supposed to ride south, come to me, Joker. We'll fix it together like brothers do.”

“I'm solid, Prez. Same as always before a battle.”

Goddamn, why did I deny it? Why'd I f*ckin' lie? I didn't even believe it myself, soon as the words were outta my mouth.

“Fuck you, don't lie to me.” He stood up, stepped forward, and slammed both his thick, calloused hands on my shoulders. Those crazy eyes in his head had seen plenty of shit, just like mine, and they always read every brothers' minds, including mine.

Didn't have a prayer of hiding shit. “Let go, Prez. I'm done lying.”

“Yeah, you are. 'Cause if you're still this f*cked up in another week, I'll see it, clear as the summer sun dying behind the Smokies. And if I do, you ain't going anywhere. You're staying behind with the prospects to guard the clubhouse, and the rest of us'll bring you the cuts from the shitstains who killed Piece.”

Tore myself away from him, hard as I could. My guts were on fire, like I'd been chugging snake venom, full of piss and hate and betrayal.

I was gone before he dismissed me. Hell, I had to be, otherwise I would've spun around and clocked the Prez right in his f*cking face, shattering his jaw.

Then he would've had plenty reason to f*ck me up.

I couldn't let that happen. Couldn't get unhinged. Couldn't come undone when everything I'd been working for these last three f*ckin' years was finally on the horizon.

The brothers were out in the bar, everybody except Firefly, Meg hanging on Skin's shoulder. They all went quiet when they saw me coming, and I didn't last long.

Just reached straight through Crawl and Sixty, grabbing a fresh bottle of Jack off the counter, and tore away the lid. I must've poured ten shots of that shit down my throat, dousing myself in sweet Tennessee fire before Skin wrestled the bottle away from me.

“What the f*ck's gotten into you?!” he roared, startling Meg. “Whole f*cking club's going to shit when we need every man firing on all cylinders, and you're boozing like the *s are gonna ban it tomorrow! Goddammit, Veep. Sober the f*ck up.”

Snarling, I walked away, heading for the little spot where I'd left my girl, my kid, my dog.

No, not your f*ckin' girl, I thought. She's nothing but your bitch 'til you make her something else.

Something besides a lying whore, good for sucking your cock, and not a whole lot else.

Pain stabbed through my chest. I'd been a f*ckin' devil last night, hate f*cking her mouth, all I could do to show her how pissed I was for hiding Alex all these years.

I hadn't had a blowjob that good for – f*ck, three years? If I wanted to man up and admit it, yeah, it was the stone cold truth.

There'd been fire in her kiss. Lightning in her lips when she dropped to her knees, put my big, mean dick in her little hands, and sucked me 'til I flooded her mouth.

I'd wanted her cunt too. Shit, some sick, twisted part of me was dead serious when I'd threatened her, wanted to pump another kid in her, breed her sweet f*ckin' ass so I'd know my next kid from day zero.

I hated her.

Only, I f*ckin' didn't when I stepped out the back door and saw her. She looked at me with those bright green eyes, wide and restless as the first time I'd made them roll back in her head. Then she had the dark hair I fisted, softer than it had any right to be, its silky feel calling my cock to life.

“Well? Are we done here?” she asked, holding my sleeping kid. Bingo laid at her feet, offering the illusion I had a real, happy family for a split second.