Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(12)

Didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. I reached for the nine millimeter on my hip and drew. All three of my brothers pulled their guns too, and I heard them click behind me, aiming all our firepower at the gawky-looking * who came up to the front desk.

“Hands in front of you where we can see 'em,” I growled, locking my eyes on his wrists.

“Whoa!” The snake looked like he was about to shit. He listened, though, and that was all that mattered. “Can I help you guys? I'm real sorry, I don't recognize your patches...you're not with the Deadhands, are you?”

“No.” Firefly stepped in front of me, lowering his gun and slapping the counter. “Get your boss, Ricky, out here right f*cking now. We've got business.”

The man licked his pale lips. “Uh, mind if I ask what it's all about?”

“We're not asking you again!” I snarled. “If you don't get his ass out here in the next thirty seconds, we're gonna be talking to you. Oh, and make sure he comes out with his hands up. Wouldn't want any misunderstandings, you dig?”

We waited. Our guns went up the second Ricky came trotting in. Bastard was tall, pot-bellied, and weaselly as ever. I'd only seen the pimp a couple times, back when he'd come to our clubhouse, fishing for protection.

The club didn't owe him shit. He owed us for pushing * in our territory, and now he'd wound up on our bad side by hosting our fiercest enemies.

“Hold up, pimp.” I pointed my gun at his head, freezing him in his tracks. “Don't even think about reaching under your belt.”

“What? Not even for a condom?” The pimp gave us a crooked smile. “I'm happy to have you boys as customers or –“

“Shut the f*ck up. We're not here for pleasure.” Firefly stepped up, pulled out his phone, and thumbed the camera lens on it.

Crawl cleared his throat. “Well, Prez didn't say anything about sampling the goods while we're taking inventory...”

Ricky laughed. My heart throbbed. Goddammit.

My horny, older brother was just as hard up as everybody else for * since our parties dried up and the girls stopped coming to the clubhouse. Only difference was he'd f*ck anything that moved, and I'd always had high standards.

“My house is your house, boys. Anything you want. Neighborly discount. Just, come on, put the guns down, guys.” Ricky's voice trembled.

“We'll think about it once we've decided you're not storing shit for the Deads.” Firefly moved his gun down to Ricky's chest and spat at the floor, before he turned to me. “Skin, take this sorry sonofabitch in the back and make sure he doesn't get smart. The rest of us are gonna comb through these rooms and hit his office. We'll save the red meat on paper for you to dig through later.”

“You got it, Sarge.” I walked up and shoved the barrel of my gun into the pimp's skin. “Start walking, *. I wanna see your whores and make sure there's nobody else hiding out in those dirty rooms. You'd better be honest, starting right now. If I find anything I shouldn't, I f*cking swear to God...”

I stopped, pushing the gun harder into his scrawny back, 'til the metal rubbed on bone. Ricky jerked forward, throwing his arms up in the air.

“Okay, okay! Christ, man. Cut me some f*cking slack. It's not like I expected any of this shit today. If you'd given me some kinda heads-up, I'd have –“

“Bite your damned tongue and walk. I don't have time for these bullshit excuses.”

He led me forward. The place was big, but it wasn't half the size I'd expected. If this truly was the biggest trucker spa on this side of the state, it made me wonder what ugly little sewers the rest of them were.

The first two rooms we walked through were about what I expected. Girls in cheap, torn hose and ratty fishnets, slumped on even cheaper beds. They barely cracked their eyes when he opened their doors and smiled at them.

They gave their boss a look like he'd just told them the whorehouse was going clean. One of them moaned, something soft and incoherent about being a good girl for good ice. She looked at me and licked her pale lips.

“My, you're a mean-looking one. Why don't you come in here and let my tongue do the talking, sugar? Shit, I bet you pay in that nice, pure stuff too, don't ya? Listen, if you've got any of that on you, I don't even need cash. I'll do anything and everything for a few more hits of heaven.”

Fuck. If only I could've put a bag with holes over her head and pray my dick didn't fall out after I screwed her mouth. She had a sexy voice, but that body was thin, blotchy, clammy.

My sex deprived dick stopped right in its tracks. I'd had a long dry spell, but I wasn't that f*cking desperate.

“Shut your whore mouth, Hazel,” Ricky snapped, turning to me with nervous shame in his eyes. “She's had a slow week. I'm sorry about that, you can take a lap around if you wanna make sure there's no guns and shit inside. I'm going across the hall, just for a second...next girl's a softie. Scares easy. She needs a little prepping before you barge in. She's the best I've got.”

I ignored the whore, Hazel, and did exactly that. Kept my eye on the pimp outside the door, wondering why the f*ck he was bent on giving so much special attention to this new chick, when he'd shown all the others nothing but scorn.