Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(128)

“Brass?” She said, full of grog.

“Stay right there, babe. Don't f*cking move. Take this.” I reached onto the night stand and took the switchblade, handing it to her.

It was her turn to panic when she sat up and saw what was going on. The covers went flying off the bed and she stood, desperately scanning the room.

“Where's Jackie!?”

“Don't f*cking know, but I'm gonna find out.”

She called after me, but I was on the move. I'd seen enough shit to know every single nano-second counts in a situation like this. My blood roared like a lion's at his breaking point. Fuck, if anybody took her and plucked a single brown hair outta her head, I'd gut them faster than they could beg for their miserable life.

Outside, it was still pitch dark. Several lights were burned out, and the place was quiet as ever.

No, there was something coming from below. Moaning. A bed creaking. Somebody f*cking.

Loud shouts. A woman screamed – this time, not in pleasure.

I didn't bother with the stairs leading down from our second floor room. I hopped right over the f*cking rail and fell several feet, hitting the pavement hard. Ignoring the fire in my knees, I headed for the noisy room and threw myself threw the door.

The couple in bed was greasy, disheveled, and ugly as sin. They'd stopped f*cking because of the jackass rolling around on the floor, the * with the lazy eye who'd checked us in.

He was thrashing around in pain, grabbing his crotch. Jackie was backed into a corner, her clothes messed up, eyes red with tears, shaking. Just like a cornered cat.

Hot air hissed out my lungs. If the f*ck managed to do anything, she wouldn't be dressed. I charged like a bull, jumping on the bed, ripping off the covers.

The couple were just as nasty underneath the sheets. They screamed, rolling on the floor, trying to get away. Or that's what I thought at first, before the pudgy * who'd been f*cking the hag started to laugh.

I looked at the nightstand and saw a familiar arrangement. Smack, ice, several joints half-burned to a crisp, a nine millimeter with its clip laying next to it. Typical junkie shit. I grabbed the drugs in a fistful and threw it on the bitch, who was shaking and moaning, halfway outta her f*cking gourd.

These motherf*ckers wouldn't say shit. If the motel wasn't deserted, somebody else would've been standing at the door I'd kicked in after all this commotion, but there was no one there except –

“Missy. Take your sis and go. I'll handle this.”

My girl looked like she'd seen a f*cking ghost. Well, she'd definitely seen some demons. I walked to the corner, took Jackie's hand, and led her out to her big sister.

“I hope you busted his f*cking balls, girl. You did the right thing. Don't feel bad for a single goddamned second. I'll do the rest,” I whispered in her ear and ran my fingers through her hair before handing her off.

Reaching into my pocket, I handed Missy the keys. “Get the truck warmed up and wait for me. Change of plans. We're heading out early and not stopping 'til we hit Missoula.”

I waited 'til I heard the truck's growl to shove the door shut – at least as much as it would close on the busted hinges. Then I walked to the * on the floor, reaching for my gun, the lazy eyed f*ckface who'd tried to make an innocent girl part of this sick orgy.

He saw me coming, reached into his pocket, and haphazardly flashed a hunting knife. I rolled my eyes, stomping his hand flat with my boot. The knife and his fingers crunched underneath my foot. Didn't let up 'til I had to lean down and silence his screams.

“Lemme go, Mister! I didn't hurt her...ow! Honest, honest – f*cking honest! Just wanted to have a little fun...make a little movie...”

I saw the bag behind him on the stand by the bathroom, clearly holding a camera. Good. That would come in handy in a minute.

No, I hadn't gotten an epiphany about peace and forgiveness. The f*ck was as good as dead the second I walked in here, but now I had an idea. Skinning his ass was gonna help me out, and maybe my brothers too.

I looked to my side, glancing at the old TV that looked like it's best days were in the late eighties. “You know, I can handle the peeling paint and the old sheets. But there are some things you really should've upgraded here.”

He looked at me like I'd lost my mind. It was the last look the f*cked up worm would ever give anyone. I reached down, grabbed his hair, and picked him up, throwing him face first into the TV with all my might.

Funny how broken circuits and glass can drown out a man's screams. He was too shocked to howl or struggle as I picked up his hunting knife and drove it into his back, stabbing him repeatedly 'til he stopped moving. His carcass slumped halfway to the floor and stopped, held up by the TV still attached to his head.

The skank on the floor between the beds was looking at me, trying to process what she'd seen through her druggie brain. I still had a couple little baggies of shit I'd scooped up off the table in my pocket.

Her eyes lit up when I approached, holding the small pack of ice in front of her face the way you tease a dog with a treat. “You want this shit?”

“Yeah! Just give it to me. My man's hogged enough for one day...” Over on the other side, the fat man groaned, totally blasted.

“I'd say he has. It's all yours, if you tell the camera who killed this f*cker with his head in the screen.” I pointed.