Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(105)

Fuck. Even the slut knew it. I almost turned around and marched back over to her, making her say that shit to my face. But I had to go after Missy, who'd bolted toward the bar like a startled cat.

It was tough going through the club. Too many bodies packed into too small a space. Brothers, bottles, and girls everywhere, standing or else lying on the floor, too f*cking easy to stumble on.

A bottle caught me right as I saw her through two big Sacramento dudes gabbing away. I slipped and fell on my f*cking ass. My body spun, the whiskey slowing my reflexes. Hit my head on a chair's leg and slumped.

Missy! God dammit.

I tried to call to her, but my lips wouldn't work. The whole world was just spinning, spinning, collapsing in on itself. My vision darkened just as I started to feel the wicked bump by my temple.

My head rolled and I saw the Prez sitting on the old sofa, two sluts on his lap, his hands pinching their thighs so hard they looked like they were in pain. Fang looked right at me and smiled, showing the broken, oversized canine in his mouth. He'd supposedly used it to bite a few men to death in the old days. Same f*cked up snaggle tooth that gave him his road name.

Shit, why did he look so f*cking evil? His eyes were always dark with anger, and stress pulled his face tight. But he never looked like this...he looked like Satan himself, high and pompous on his throne somewhere in hell.

He lifted a hand. The dim light overhead reflected off the blade in his hand. He pressed it dangerously close to one girl's thigh, sliding higher between her legs, ready to sever a critical vein or shoot up and split her in two if he chose.

Fuck, f*ck, f*ck...

That's when I knew I was losing my mind. I was f*cking hallucinating. Had to be!

Too much Jack and grief on an empty stomach could really twist a man's brain to knots. I blacked out on the floor, right next to two more girls thrashing with pleasure on the ground, drooling the same way I used to when I felt the heroin's coarse purr surging through my veins.

Somebody was crying.

I rolled, threw my hands on the ground, and tried to stand up. The liquor in my veins became a half-faded hangover. The weird near silence in the bar told me I must've lost a couple hours – brothers were long gone with their girls, or else in an even deeper coma than I'd been in a second ago.

I looked at the sofa. The Prez was gone, if he'd ever been there at all with those poor scared bitches.

“Let me go! I'm just here to work. I'm not a whore!” I turned toward the high, feminine distress.

“Heh. Could've fooled me with that f*cking mouth, begging to be tamed. He hasn't done shit, has he, girl?” The rough voice paused. “Nobody's buying Brass' bullshit, least of all me. I've seen through that * from the very beginning. Fang f*cked up failing to burn his junkie ass back in Montana, and now he thinks he's gonna get one over on his brothers, claiming your *'s his when it really isn't? Shut the f*ck up, beautiful, and enjoy yourself. You're nobody's old lady, and that means it's open season on your sweet looking ass.”

“Let. Go.”

“Not 'til you give it up on top of this bar, baby girl. I'm gonna rip you right open. Show you what a real man wearing these f*cking colors can do. You owe me anyway for not pulling the trigger on your little girl...”

“No! No!”

My screwed up brain finally got its shit together. I recognized those voices.

Missy. Serial.

Fuck!

I shot up, ignoring the savage vertigo twisting my brain upside down. Couldn't see anything except pure blood red when I saw him backing my girl against the wall, trying to pull her toward the messy bar top, one of his evil hands pinching her thigh.

I charged him from the side and knocked his ass flat on the ground. Missy screamed. I fell on top of him, hoping like hell I could aim my fists at his face, knock him out before he knew what hit him. I got in two good punches before I felt him moving beneath me, one hand in his pocket.

Motherf*cker pulled his switchblade and hurled it at my guts. I barely swerved again, deaf as another one of Missy's screams ripped through my ears. I caught a blur, just her circling around us, shaking and holding an empty beer bottle like a club.

Serial tried to stab my ass again. Too f*cking slow. Adrenaline howled through me and I caught his wrist with both hands, forcing the bundle to his throat. It was all down to arm wrestling now, and I wanted to push that knife through his jugular so f*cking bad.

“Brothers, no! Get the f*ck up! Both you *s!”

Two hands caught my shoulders and shook. I kicked like mad as they tried to pull me to my feet, throwing my head down one more time. I slapped Serial's forehead so hard with mine the sickening slap echoed in my skull, followed by the dull pain.

More hands landed on me. Dark shapes moved all around us, cutting me off from Missy, taking me away from my target.

I wouldn't stop flipping my shit 'til Blackjack and Rabid had me pressed to the wall, holding me down with everything they had.

“Let me f*cking go! That * tried to rape my old lady. I'm gonna put his ass in the ground!”

“You've lost your mind, son!” Blackjack roared in my face. “If you think you're gonna deal justice without running it by your brothers, we'll take you out to meet the Mauler right now. Stop it!”

Rabid's eyes met mine. Come on, man. I don't wanna f*cking hurt you, they said. Calm the f*ck down.