Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(155)

Big Ed laughed. He walked past me though, moving through the narrow space between dad's bed and the TV stand. His arm went out and gave me a rough shove on his way out.

“Don't you f*cking forget it, bitch!” I steadied myself against the wall, hoping I wouldn't have to turn around before he was finally gone. Then he opened his fat mouth again, and I knew luck wasn't on my side today.

“Oh, and don't you dare think about going to any of the Redding boys with this. It won't help your ass – it'll just be more trouble. Rip's never backing down. He doesn't give a f*cking shit what Blackjack or any of those other cocksuckers say. We don't take our orders from this town. We're free men. And if you stir up trouble, you'll just cause a damned war on your doorstep. Your job's easy. Fucking remember it.”

Easy? Easy?!

Now, I had to turn around. I wanted to throw myself at him, scream, jab my fingernails into his eyeballs and tear his stupid mustache off.

But it wouldn't do any good.

If I somehow survived and got him arrested, his brothers would come to town. They'd know who did it. And everything I'd heard said the bastard was right – the new Grizzlies leadership in Redding was too busy finding its footing.

My problems weren't theirs, if they even cared. Besides, I wouldn't dare drag Rabid and his brothers into this, though he'd jump at the chance. They saved me once. I'd already screwed over my dad, and I'd rather die than see anybody else get killed for my screw ups, my debt.

“Ed – we're done. Please.” He wanted me to beg him, so I did.

The * stopped, stood up straight, pulled on his cut. He was coming toward me again.

No, no, no...

“What'sa matter, Chrissy? Seriously?” His voice was so soft, but the way he grabbed my chin and tilted my head revealed his inner demon. “You ought to work your little ass off and go on a retreat. You're so f*ckin' stressed. It's no good for your heart, you know.”

He thumped his chest. The sound was the first thing to really make me shake. It reminded me how huge, dangerous, and ruthless these men really were.

“Life gives do overs if you play your cards right. Keep coughing up the dough. Keep doing everything I say. The old f*ck over there'll get to live out his days in peace. You'll get to live another week without my boys running a train on your sweet ass, wearing nothing but their cuts. God, I bet you f*ck good – even if you look like you stuck your f*cking face into a cat fight.”

Laughing, he reached for my ass, pulled me to him. I had to fight to make sure his disgusting tongue never contacted my skin.

Ass. Hole.

He let me go at just the right time. I went spinning toward the wall and crashed, hit the TV hard with my hip. Big Ed roared, stomping past me again, this time ripping open the door to the hall.

“You take care of yourself, Chrissy. Who the f*ck knows. The universe works in mysterious ways. You keep working with a fire under your ass, maybe you'll get to have a little biker bar up by Crater Lake again one of these days. We'd love to give you the f*cking money to get it off the ground again, soon as you pay this shit off.”

I closed my eyes. Finally, he was gone, leaving the thunderous echo of the door slamming behind him in his wake. Just before he disappeared, I caught the roaring grizzly bear on his back, hateful symbol of all my terrible mistakes.

Christ. Seriously. He'd gotten to me again, even though it took a lot these days. My hand was squeezing my purse for dear life, and that made me realize how f*cking empty it was. Just then, dad chose to turn around and look at me with his vacant eyes.

“You lost, lady? Can I help you?”

I stopped and stared up at the ceiling for a full minute. There was one more thing in my purse, something I'd bought with a couple bucks I hadn't forked over to Big Ed.

“Here, dad. Your favorite candy.” It was a dark chocolate bar I'd gotten at the gas station, something he always liked in better times when he could still fish and ride his bike.

With any luck, it might slow the weight melting off him too. Dad didn't look like the man who raised me anymore. He used to be big and strong and muscular, ready to lift the world. Now, he couldn't even lift his own legs to walk.

He sniffed, gave me the look that hurt the most – the vacant one that reminded me he really had no clue who I was, and probably never would again. The lucid moments were so rare these days. It wasn't fair, damn it.

He wasn't even sixty. Four or five years ago, he'd been enjoying his first year of early retirement, and now everything he'd scrimped and saved was being used to support him while every last light went out in his head forever.

“Hm.” He unwrapped the chocolate slowly, something that had become our ritual for the last six months. “Oh, yeah. Hell yeah. Tastes good.”

He chewed a square and looked up at me, wonder in his eyes. I sniffed back more tears. He didn't remember his daughter, but I'd managed to make him truly happy with this little thing.

That counted for something wherever my worldly karma was being tallied up, right?

“What was your name again, dear?”

“Christa. Christa Kimmel. You can count on me to be here next week, dad, same as always.” I leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the forehead as his lips formed a confused smile. “I don't care how hard anybody makes it. I'm never going to stop loving you.”