Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(73)

Fuck, that shit stung when she grazed my cuts. But it wasn't half as bad as having to get used to these people buzzing around, all concerned about me passing out.

We'd cleaned up the dead weight in the woods and taken off earlier that night. The prospects and Joker split to head deeper into the mountains, taking the motherf*ckers we'd finished out to our usual burial sites.

“Forget about it, babe. I just need to sleep this shit off, I'll be fine by morning.”

Yeah, right. The way the roar in my temples deepened every time I tried to talk told me I was kidding myself and everybody else here with me.

“Bullshit, Skin.” The Prez barked, leaning against the frame in the open doorway. “You need to listen to my ma, and your old lady. I won't have this club's brains getting scrambled for good. I've heard enough. I'm getting Crawl and Sixty together and having them take ya'll in to medical.”

Fuck. So much for getting a luxury condo, as soon as I saw the medical bill I'd wrack up after they did half a million scans on my skull.

“I can't afford that shit, and neither can the club treasury. We're just barely getting back on our feet. I'm not gonna burden the brothers, taking away from this club and the profit share for the guys when we've all risked our asses.”

“You risked yours the most, Skin. It's my choice – or did you forget what this patch means?” Dust stepped forward, sharing a quick glance with his ma, and tapped the PRESIDENT patch on his cut.

“Yeah, I remember. Your way, Prez. No backtalk.”

“Guys, let me do this,” Meg said, speaking up. “I have an idea.”

“Start talking, baby doll,” Dust growled. “I'm not letting this boy close his eyes for a goddamned cat nap 'til he's had his head looked at good and proper.”

Meg sat down with a nervous smile, and began to explain. By the end of it, I wasn't sure whose eyes were bugging out harder – mine or the Prez's. That was when I knew beyond any doubt I'd hitched up with the craftiest girl this side of the mountains, and maybe the craziest too.

“This is it?” Sixty pulled a smoke from his mouth and flicked it out the truck's window.

“Yup. I'll walk him over and buzz the gate. Just wait for us out here.” Meg tugged on my arm. “Come on, old man. It won't be as bad as you think.”

My brothers nodded. They watched me stagger out of the passenger seat with my girl on my arm. The f*cks probably thought I was heading for death row.

Her daddy didn't say much when she buzzed the gate. The big, iron bars I'd only seen from the outside slid open. It was a long walk to the double-wide front door between the roman columns, a country mansion like something outta Civil War times.

A tall, wiry man with spectacles came out to meet us, looking like a damned owl. He took one look at me and twisted his face.

“Honey, what the hell is this? Some kind of joke? My God, you brought him here.”

“Of course I did, Daddy. Are you telling me the man who saved my life isn't welcome in our home?”

Pain roared in my temples. Didn't distract me from fixing eyes on her father, watching the hard, venomous look he gave me soften the longer his daughter looked at him.

Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. “No. We're civilized here. Assuming you have no weapons...Mister Skin, you're welcome to come inside for some water.”

I narrowed my eyes, staring at him, and decided to do the only thing that made any damned sense. “I'd like that. It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mister Wilder. Call me Parker.”

“What's going on here, Eric? Who is this man, and what's he doing in our house so late?” An elegant looking older lady in a thick burgundy robe sashayed into the kitchen, heading right for us.

We'd barely even sat down and gotten started. Meg squeezed my hand and smiled. I clenched my jaw, holding in a big fat whatever.

If she wanted to introduce me to her old man, then she'd might as well do the entire family.

“This is Megan's friend, Parker. She's come back to us.”

“Oh, baby, I'm so glad you're finally going to get the help you need.” Meg's ma slipped past me, hung over her, and kissed her on the forehead.

Finally, she looked up, staring into my eyes. The chick must've been in her fifties, but she'd aged well. I could see the resemblance in her chestnut hair and high cheeks. She must've been a total f*cking knockout in her heyday, a perfect trophy for a rich businessman.

“Parker, huh?” she sniffed. “And how do you know my Megan?”

“He's the man I'm moving in with, Mom. I love him.”

The old lady's jaw dropped. I would've laughed if it wasn't for the bison stampede in my head, the aftershock of that motherf*cker slamming his rock into my skull hours ago.

“You. Can't. Be. Serious.” Her mother pulled away from her, folding her arms.

“I am. Like I tried to tell Daddy over the phone, this man is the missing piece of the last six months of my life. He's the only reason I'm home, and not chained up in some dark, musty basement, being forced to service a man who wanted to buy me from my pimp.”

The color drained outta her ma's face. Hubby stood up and took her hand, pulling her onto his lap so she wouldn't fall.

“Megan, please, we don't need to talk about all that. We've rehashed it enough with the police.” Her father looked up angrily. “The detective, mind you, who I lied to repeatedly for you. Apparently, that wasn't good enough. You've still decided to throw your own family under the bus to protect this – this biker.”