Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(62)

For Summer.

For Alex.

For the brotherhood, blown to shit because Dust's lies had finally gone off like dynamite.

All gone. All f*ckin' gone forever if I didn't force myself up, swing again, and execute the motherf*cker trying to stomp my head in.

Another kick. Miss.

I swung the knife again, planted it in his leg, and heard a satisfying howl of pain.

Fucker went down. But there were too many others. Too goddamned many – these bastards always had numbers.

The shit-kicker smashing against my skull came from behind. A twig snapped, and I was too damned slow before I dropped the other *, pulling out my blade.

Never knew if the blood loss got me first, or the toe of his boot stabbing into my head.

Perfect, cold blackness put me down.



*

“Three men. Three good men ate f*ckin' dirt because of you, motherf*cker.” A sick, angry voice taunted me in the dark.

My eyes were open, but I couldn't see shit. I'd gone blind.

In the corner, somebody cried. A tiny, helpless voice I recognized, scared for his life.

Alex. My son.

I couldn't see a f*ckin' thing, but I crawled on my hands and knees toward the sound, across what felt like a cool concrete floor, covered in dirt.

“Heh heh, look at this bastard, going around in circles like he's chasing his tail!”

“Shut up, Skelly. Shut the f*ck up.”

Finally recognized that other voice. Hatch, the abuser, the killer, the demon who'd put my girl through the grinder and had my son out in front of me, like a carrot.

“Alex, Alex, don't be afraid. Don't let them f*ckin' scare you,” I growled, laying in front of what I hoped to God was him.

“Father and son,” Hatch said softly, pausing for what had to be a puff. I could smell smoke swirling around me, sinister as a ghost. “I'd say it made me feel some shit if it didn't look so goddamned weak. Jewels, get the little bastard out of here. His f*ckin' daddy can't even see him, so he ain't gonna be any use to us.”

“Right away,” a woman said. Probably the bitch with the neon purple hair I'd seen on the video.

I held in my fury, listening to my son cry. Couldn't see her pick him up, but I knew she did, cooing softly to him the whole damned time as they left the room.

Somewhere, a door closed. They were gone. Leaving me alone with who the f*ck knew how many evil bastards. A heavy boot slammed down on my bruised ribs a second later.

I heard a gun cock, dangerously close, up against my temple. My teeth pressed together 'til I tasted blood, and I thought they'd f*ckin' crack to pieces in my mouth.

“You f*cked up, just like the bitch you left on her own,” Hatch said, breathing hot death in my ear. “All my boys are gonna get a piece of you, Joker. Fingers, *, ribs, sockets, I don't f*ckin' care. Yeah, you heard me. Sockets.”

That last one, he repeated, and I finally knew who'd killed my brother. My whole body shook, wondering what the f*ck I'd done to make God bring me face-to-face with his killer, without letting me f*ckin' see the motherf*cker.

“Don't look at me like that, you ungrateful sack of shit. We could've done it all right in front of your f*ckin' kid. We've got rules here, *, same as you and all the sorry f*cks wearing those popguns on your leathers. You sing, we'll make sure the kid doesn't have to suffer much longer. He'll go out clean, assuming your Prez doesn't show up to pay the f*ck up. Then we'll let him walk.” He pushes his gun harder into my head, digging the barrel into my temple. “I'm honest, Joker. I'm easy as f*ck to deal with. So, let's try to get this shit off right before I give the go ahead to knock your f*ckin' teeth out. Just wanna know one thing – where the f*ck's your Veep patch gone?”

Heart pounding like mad, I tilted my head, 'til that gun was right between my eyes. “Go ahead and shoot me, f*ckwit. You already know I ain't telling you shit.”





11





Stupid, Stupid, Stupid (Summer)





When I woke up and crawled out of my hole, none of the men were speaking. Not with words, anyway.

But their movements said too much. Everyone buzzed around like drones who'd just had their hive caved in by a hungry bear.

This was serious. This was war. Men walked around with long, dangerous guns unlike anything I'd ever seen outside the movies. Their faces were all long, deadly serious, as if they were all quietly making peace before riding into death.

I watched Meg, the elegant brunette who'd been keeping me company on lockdown, suck face with Skin. He smiled into her kiss, held her close, the long, jagged scar on his cheek catching the light.

Firefly kissed his pregnant wife. Cora, the blonde I hadn't spoken to very much. She sobbed when the big, angry powder keg she called her man swept her up in his arms, laid his lips on hers, and didn't stop until one of the Grizzlies bikers tapped him on the shoulder.

Numbly, I watched in wonder, walking toward the garages with a blanket draped over my shoulders. The huge group of men got on their bikes and fired their engines all at once, with one notable piece of the club missing.

Joker. He'd gone off somewhere on his own, riding solo into death, just like he'd promised me. He'd kissed me goodbye, told me he loved me, loved Alex, and I'd treated him like the biggest bitch in the world.