Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(145)

My vision started to blur to red again. My fists shook at my sides. For a second, it felt like the whole f*cking universe was compressing into a tiny hot ball around me.

Smaller, darker, and deader. My soul prepared to rocket outta my body and swing straight down to hell, screaming and killing anything that got in its way.

The knife fell back. Not even a trickle of blood on her throat.

Thank God.

“You know the drill by now, *s.” Fang's voice was more irritated than I'd ever heard it. “Different girl. Same terms. Except you've just cut your remaining time in half. You're down to five hours to comply. I expect the tape, the confession, and the rats by o-sixteen-hundred or I'll be carving two pieces off this cunt for being so troublesome. Starting with those pretty tits.”

The video went blank, but not before I had a perfect shot of Missy's face. She looked eerily calm, numb, like her heart and mind had shut down to survive the world of pain coming her way.

He was f*cking hurting her, even if he hadn't laid a scratch on her yet. My fists burned, hungry to punch, choke, break, and kill.

Just seeing Fang's rotten carcass wasn't enough for me anymore. I had to beat everybody else to the punch and kill him myself, or I'd never sleep again. Fuck.

“Brass?” Blackjack, Blaze, and half the room stared at me.

I swallowed my rage, saving it for later, nursing the swollen fireball in my stomach. “What's the plan?”

“Direct assault,” Blaze pipped up. “It's the only f*cking way. We gotta go for their throat, quick as we can, and hope we tear it out before we got a hundred f*cking bears nipping at our legs.”

Angry eyes fixed on the Devils' President. “No offense,” he added, diffusing tensions by half a degree. “Tank?”

“No disagreement, boss. We don't have too many options, and waiting sure as f*ck won't help.”

“Wait.” Everybody looked at me, but I didn't meet their eyes.

I was too busy staring through the small crowd, back towards the sad redhead in the bedroom. The door was open, and she was standing. Her back was turned to us and she was gazing out the window.

“We know the video wasn't full proof,” I said. “Fang's guaranteed to have numbers on his side. Doubt half the charters believed it, especially since it came from the Devils.”

“I don't see where you're going with this,” Blackjack said, furrowing his brow. “What the f*ck, Brass?”

I walked around the table and leaned into his ear. “Step in the back with me. I want her to hear it too.”

Blaze followed, and I didn't stop him. He had every right to know what the f*ck was up with his men on the line and two Grizzlies whispering to each other.

The other men waited while we stepped into the room and closed the door behind us. Christa turned around. Her face was bad, scratched and puffy as shit. She'd been a pretty girl, and our former brothers had definitely f*cked her up.

Almost felt guilty for the shit I was about to propose, but it was the only thing that might save all our asses from getting slaughtered, plus Missy too.

“Brass? What the f*ck is this?” Blaze was getting impatient.

I spilled it. Both their jaws hit the f*cking floor when I laid it out. Christa listened silently.

When I was finished, Blaze spun, slammed his fists on the wall. He turned back to face me, shaking his head. “You're outta your f*cking mind. I know it's your old lady and nobody can think right when something like that's on the line. But, f*ck, man, you're asking us to take one helluva risk with some chick who's already been through the grinder.”

“I've got to agree with Blaze,” Blackjack said. “This is...”

His face tightened. Fucking nuts, he was about to say, or something like it. He hesitated, trying to soften the blow for my sake.

“Sorry, Brass,” he said. “Direct assault's the only way to clean this mess up and get your girl out. You know it.”

“Stop,” Christa spoke, soft but determined. “I'll do it.”

A couple hours later, everything was ready. Less than three hours to spare before the demon in our clubhouse started laying into my woman. Just enough time.

Blackjack had every copy of the tape the Devils brought, and all the men were ready to ride.

Rabid was still milling around the beat up redhead. I walked over, more than a little nervous he was about to talk some sense into her. Fuck, I couldn't force her to do shit if she pulled out, but if she did...we'd be f*cked so bad there was nothing left to do but ride into a massacre.

“You're sure you wanna do this?” Rabid watched her nod as I approached. “Fuck. You're a brave, brave girl. I'm gonna be right there with you, baby. No f*cking way am I gonna let anybody drag you back where you don't belong. Those f*cks will never get their paws on you again.”

I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Where is it?”

Rabid looked at me, smiled and pointed at the Harley several feet away. “She's all there. Got her out right in the nick of time, before Fang and company stole her, right before everything went to shit at the warehouse.”

“Thank f*ck. I'd have to skin all their greedy asses for sitting on my baby.”

Rabid stayed with the redhead while I walked to my bike. Jesus, it had only been about a week, but it felt like half a f*cking lifetime. The only thing sweeter than sliding onto my Harley again would be having Missy in my arms, and I was dead set on it.