Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(68)

“No way.” I shook my head. “There's nowhere I'd rather be than with you. I know you'll keep me safe, Skin. You always have.”

“Good.” He looked at the stuff behind me on the counter. “Let's hurry the hell up. We've got a long run back, and then you're going in the vault. Safest room in the clubhouse. Nobody breaches that shit without a nuclear warhead.”

“Whatever it takes, Skin. I'm yours.” I said the last word in a hurry, right before I desperately began throwing food into the refrigerator and dumping the coffee.

A spatter caught my skin as I watched the hot, black liquid hiss down the sink. It should've burned, but it was the only thing keeping me from turning into solid ice.





X: All Hell (Skin)


She clung tighter to me than usual on my bike. I wished like hell I could grab her little arms and hold 'em even closer, whatever it took to wipe away the fear and remind her that I'd never let her hurt again.

Easier said than done now that we had a dragon breathing down our necks, but damn if I wasn't gonna try. We'd just gotten outside Knoxville on the isolated highway, about ten minutes from the clubhouse, when I heard the convoy.

They came up fast, taking the mountain curves like raging chariots.

“Skin!” Meg screamed my name as they surrounded us.

Four bikes. Two trucks. More than half a dozen bastards, all wearing Deadhands' patches on their cuts, and those mean motherf*ckers meant business.

“Hold on as tight as you can, baby.” I wouldn't let the worry creep into my voice and spook her more.

Just throttled my bike as hard as it would go, taking the next curve around the mountain so fast it felt like we were on a f*cking rocket. She leaned into me. I could feel the poor girl's breath catching in her throat, the terror running through her blood.

Bastards. I'd find a way to make them all pay for scaring her like this. They'd give me their miserable, f*cked up lives, and then some.

I took the first side road where it was too narrow for them to surround us, blazing toward the trees. I had to get ahead. We had to run.

It was our only hope. There were too many of them to outrun on the long stretches of open road, and we were too far away from HQ to risk it.

My eyes focused on a little stretch of road near a cliff overlooking the forest, an old scenic overlook next to a crumbling stone wall and battered stairway. It had just enough space to roar into it and jump the hell off.

“Babe, as soon as this bike stops, you run,” I growled back at her, preparing to slam on the brakes. “Forget about your helmet, forget about the shit on the bike, just go!”

Ten seconds later, the bike screeched to a stop on the cracked pavement, nearly running off the damned cliff. I threw myself off it and grabbed her hand. She raced with me into the brush, struggling to navigate the steep cliff.

This part of the mountains was rugged as all hell. I'd been here a few times before. The boulders were our saving grace, and we headed for the first large crop we saw. I shoved her against the rocks and then pressed her to the ground, hiding her under me for extra safety and support. I also needed to muffle everything coming out of her mouth.

If she broke and whimpered while they were combing the area, we'd be dead for sure.

The Deads weren't giving up just because we'd quit the road chase. Shit, I could hear them now, swearing and trundling down the same overgrown path we'd taken, crashing through the trees, fanning out to search.

It wouldn't take them long. I had to delay. I had to put in a call to the boys, get them the f*ck out here, or at least let them know that we were about to be whipped.

I ripped out my phone in one hand, and my nine millimeter in the other. I let my shit dial while I peered up over the rocks, looking for our pursuers. Hellfire tingled in my fingers, the need to put bullets through their skulls, even though we were past outnumbered.

“Skin? Where the f*ck are you, boy?” Joker answered in his usual sharp, dead voice.

“We're in trouble, Veep,” I growled in a hoarse whisper, feeling Meg tremble. “Deads here, a whole lot of 'em, just off the old stonewall overlook. I gotta go.”

“Fuck. I'm on it.”

The line went dead. We'd said everything we needed to, and the guys would be on their way soon, minus poor Firefly, who'd taken a shot I hadn't even seen yet.

One man down. Not good when the Deads came in force, and there might be more on the way, ready to hit the clubhouse while they came after my ass.

Another murmur. Some bastard coughed, and my trigger finger tensed. I saw his shadow climbing through the torn brush just past our rocky hiding place.

The rules of war were off. I had to shoot first. These *s weren't going to show us any mercy, and the only hope we had was delaying them with a couple spilled brains, before it was our blood spattered all over the cool Smoky Mountain soil.

“Stay down, babe,” I said in the softest voice I had.

One more second, and the Dead would be in my sights. I raised my gun, ready to watch his brains shoot out his skull.

I never got the chance to pull the trigger. Cold metal pressed into my spine.

“Don't.”

I spun, planting my gun in another motherf*cker's chest. I knew I was f*cked when I heard the man I'd been aiming at, coming through the brush. Now, he had his gun trained on my head. I didn't even need to turn to see it.