Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(3)

The sickening slap of metal on thin skin cut him off. I pinched my eyes shut, wondering if this was just another bad dream.

No, of course not, I'd never been so lucky. Not since this became my life. Ricky whimpered, staggering in the narrow hallway in a circle, the same way he sometimes did when he got really drunk. Except this time there was pain glowing in his eyes, hurt and terror, something I'd never seen before on his nasty face.

Why does that look make me feel so excited and scared simultaneously?

“Get the f*ck outside, Ricky,” the stranger growled. “Stop crying and listen. I don't waste my time saying the same thing twice. Next time you give me any bullshit, pretending you've got everything under control and we're just here for a tea party, I'll break your f*cking jaw. You'll lose teeth. Now, outta my damned way.”

Ricky hit the wall again with a loud thud. Other sinister sounding male voices filled the hallway, just as a huge shadow stepped into the doorway.

My heart came to a total stop when I stared at him. It was dark and dingy, the only dull light coming through the blinds, turning my world into a canvass of shadows.

Tall, dark, and handsome didn't begin to describe the giant about to enter my world, and probably my body too.

Shit, tall didn't do him a bit of justice.

He was so big he had to duck when he finally stepped through the frame, into my room. Instinct forced me to walk backwards, pressed me against the wall. I froze, running my eyes across his leather vest for telltale signs of the demon red lettering and severed hand symbols the MC always wore.

But he didn't have that at all. His cut looked...cleaner, somehow. I didn't recognize the symbols either. Smoking guns, skulls, and neon yellow one-percent signs plastered his chest, flanking the patch with his name.

I looked and looked, and I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This was another club, another man, another dangerous predator ready to rip me to shreds.

The fear and shock broke my protective wall. We locked eyes, and I trembled, saying his name.

“Skin? Seriously?” I instantly regretted the words.

I lost my smart mouth the first few times Ricky slapped me across the face. I couldn't comprehend why it suddenly came back the second I was staring at a man ten times as dark and powerful as my brutal pimp.

He stopped less than a foot away from me, painfully close. His smile distorted the long scar across his cheek. All I could think about while I watched it was how it complimented his warrior look, like he'd just walked into the real world from the Norse legends I read about in college.

His huge, tattooed arm rose up to his chest, and he tapped the name patch with two fingers. “That's what they all call me, babe. Don't wear it out before I f*ck you ragged.”

Oh, God. My brain shut down. I couldn't understand why he was here anymore. Skin was too vicious, too strange, too devilishly good-looking to be in a whorehouse like this one.

I knew I'd just met my ruin.

Six Months Ago

Becky laughed in the driver's seat, taking the mountain curves way too fast. I was too drunk to care that we might go careening off into the nearest ravine, right through the flimsy guard rails.

Tonight was ours. We were out to conquer a new set of boys like we always did and drink ourselves stupid.

If only those damned heels would've stopped digging into my ankles...

“You fighting with your shoes again, girl?” my best friend said with a laugh. “You try way too hard when you flirt!”

“Whatever, it's not like they'll be staying on for long anyway,” I said. “Crawford's been texting me all week. Pretty funny, really. I thought the son of the biggest real estate mogul in Knoxville would be knee-deep in *...he seems kinda desperate.”

“Oh, please, they're all like that. Awkward rich boys.” Becky spun the wheel in her hands. My stomach lurched as we took the next hard turn.

“Hey, at least he's cute. If he isn't a total dud tonight, maybe we'll be onto something.”

“Pssht. We're too young to go hubby hunting, and you know it! This party's going to be packed with hot guys, Meg. Don't get in too deep having the hots for Craw-daddy. He wants in your panties and he's a heart breaker.”

I rolled my eyes. She'd always been the perfect foil for all my wild intentions, and sometimes a bigger party slut than me.

Too bad. Becky wouldn't put the brakes on my fun tonight, and I wasn't buying her carefree attitude for once.

Lately, I'd been thinking a lot about growing up. Something about being twenty-two without a man, maybe, or else the fact that Daddy was getting more frustrated with me by the day, having me around the house.

I barely went to the Wilder Corp offices, even though I had an internship there through his strings. What did it matter? I had the same sweet trust fund that had gotten me through college. My salary rolled in like clockwork, whether I went in and answered a few phones each week, or slept off my latest hangover.

I'd plowed through college last spring and walked out with my Communications degree. Good for setting me up as the public face of Daddy's company after he decided to retire. And honestly, as long as I had my fun and landed a good husband, I didn't really care.

I was born a Wilder, and that meant living life on easy mode. I had the money and the name to be whoever I wanted.

It wasn't a sin to be figuring that out in my early twenties, right?