Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(41)

Fuck. I wracked my brain through last night's haze. It took all I had not to freeze up as all the brothers looked at me, waiting for this grand scheme I was supposed to have hatched by now to get us the quarter million.

“We let her walk.”

Boom. My words wouldn't have been any less surprising than a pipe bomb going off underneath our table.

Several jaws dropped. The Prez cocked his head like he hadn't heard me right.

“Skin...what the f*ck? You'd better be kidding me, brother.”

“Don't think he is,” Firefly said, standing up and flexing his fists, his huge jaw twitching. “The girl's got him by the balls. I heard those two yesterday. Up all night, f*cking their little hearts out.”

Fuck, f*ck, f*ck. All the sirens blasted in my head, especially when I saw the stocky boy walking around the table toward me, angling to make this shit physical if I didn't think of something, and think fast.

“Come on, guys, it isn't like that.”

“Bullshit!” Firefly spat at the floor, ripping me up by the shoulders.

The bastard had brute strength. I couldn't get a good grip on him to fight back and free myself before he slammed me against the wall, rattling every bone in my body.

“We're disappointed in you, Skin. Your weakness has always been *, just like your old man.” He grabbed my throat and tightened his grip before I could say shit. “We've been more than goddamned generous with you. Now, you're the only boy getting * in this joint, and you wanna let this bird fly and leave the club empty-f*cking-handed – after all we've been through!”

I saw his other fist coming up, ready to break my nose. Shit.

My knee came up and slammed into his gut. I knew the big Enforcer's weak point. It didn't fail me here, he stumbled back against the table and doubled over, struggling for air.

Everybody else was already up on their feet.

I tried to make a break, and ran right into Joker. I got in the first blow, but he had the edge, pulling at my cut and holding his cold blade against my throat.

“Try to run, brother, and I'll skin every f*cking symbol of this club right off you.”

I held my breath, knowing he meant business. Hell, I'd watched him do it a few times to *s who deserved it. The Veep was crazy enough to do it to one of our own too, as soon as the Prez said jump.

Speaking of the Prez, he was heading toward me. Angry, sharp determination flickered in his pale blue eyes. His lips peeled back, and I saw the gold tooth set in his mouth shining like a beacon, illuminating the only words that could bring me mercy or pure hell.

“Prez, go easy, aren't we jumping the damned gun?” Sixty pipped up. “He's gotta have something for us. Skin's all brains. He's never let us down. Cut the man some f*cking slack.”

Crawl nodded at his side, sweeping his dark hair over his face, unable to hide his worried expression. Both my brothers backed me up, and they'd try to save my ass if it came to a vote.

Assuming you're worth saving. The nasty thought ran through my head.

I had to give them something. I had to prove I hadn't lost my mind from getting * whipped.

Shit, I had to prove it to myself. I'd just had the best f*ck of my life, and I'd promised her the moon, but damn if I'd let her get to me.

I owed this club my life. I looked up as the Prez approached, steadying my gaze, refusing to give a shit when his eyes flashed murder.

“Firefly's right. You've got your head all f*cked up by this stray * cat we've let you take in. You've got ten seconds to start talking, and tell me why I shouldn't have the club drag her out back and find out the best way to get that money from her rich folks ourselves...”

Shit. She wouldn't survive a club interrogation. The guys wouldn't hurt her – I didn't think – but they'd scare the shit out of her, undo everything I'd tried to give her last night, dig up all the shit the pimp had done to her.

Good thing I came ready. I had an Ace in my hand, a little extra card I'd picked up from the pimp before I shot his shit-for-brains out. It just might stall them from doing something reckless and stupid.

“Send one of the prospects out to the garage right now. There's a black bag out there, next to my bike. I was saving it to bring to your office privately, Prez, but since you want all this shit out in the open...”

Dust's eyes widened with dark amusement. You'd better not be f*cking with me, they said.

He looked at Crawl. “Step outside and tell Lion to bring us whatever the f*ck he's talking about. Hurry up!”

Everybody waited while our brother opened the door and said a few words to the prospects standing guard. Lion and Tinman both took off, returning a minute later. The Prez saw Lion's scruffy face holding my leather saddlebag, sagging with the shit I'd stuffed in it.

“Come on, up on the table,” Dust ordered, waving him forward. As soon as the prospect dropped the bag, he gave him another wave, and Crawl shut the door behind him, locking them both out 'til they'd earned their bottom rockers.

“Go on. Open it. It's not a full quarter million, but it's a sign of good faith. This club's all I think about, Prez. Here's your proof that's true. I won't let us walk away with our pockets hanging out, and I'm not gonna stand here and listen to the shit that's being talked about me.”