Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(90)

I looked at him and nodded. Guns were holstered.

I couldn't f*cking believe it worked. Hell, I couldn't believe how Blackjack just turned into more of a f*cking mystery than he already was. And I really couldn't get it through my skull that I now had two strange women on my hands, and I didn't know shit about how to handle them.

“Let's move,” Blackjack growled, aiming his hard stare at everybody else. “Get the cash loaded so we can get the f*ck outta this dump. Smells like the place where my old man died...”

“You got a name, or what?” I said, helping her onto my bike.

“It's Melissa, but everybody calls me Missy.” She eyed me warily. “What's happening to us? What does it mean to be claimed?”

I coughed, looking for a spare helmet. Fuck, it'd been too long since I had a passenger on my ride, let alone an hourglass with such a tight sweet body.

“Means you're under my protection now, babe. I'm gonna help you get outta this shit, but you gotta work with me. We'll link up with your girl when we get to the clubhouse. She'll be all right riding with Blackjack.”

Convenient answer. No way was I explaining all the honors and obligations of an old lady 'til I had to.

“Him?” She bared her teeth, pointing to the Enforcer securing the kid to his bike. “He almost f*cking killed us!”

“Yeah, he did. But he changed his mind, didn't he?” I winked. “Nice to hear a firecracker go off between those teeth. Keep that shit coming. You'll fit in fine with where we're going. Put this on.”

I pushed the helmet onto her head, trying to tuck her hair underneath it. She got pissed real fast and batted my fingers away, fixing the strap herself.

“You ever been on one of these before?” I asked, taking my place up front.

“No. I'll figure it out. I'm more worried about Jackie, my sister...”

I tried to hide the big whoosh of relief soaring through my chest. No, not a MILF after all, and thank f*ck for that. My cock wouldn't have blinked at her having a kid, but f*ck if it didn't make things easier. Dealing with a kid sister as part of the package was a whole lot easier than a daughter.

“She'll be okay. He's not a bad guy all the time. Blackjack always keeps his word. He'll take care of her, same way I'm gonna make sure you get home in one piece. Hold on tight 'cause we're about to roll.”

Reaching behind me, I found her hands and pulled them around me. One rough tug. The girl only resisted a little bit. Soon as I started my engine and the bike jerked, I became her whole world, the only thing between her flying off onto the road.

I grinned to myself. Never f*cking failed. These rides always brought the lucky gals closer to the brothers. It took me a second to remember she wasn't choosing it, though, because I'd made her choice for her.

All Missy – beautiful f*cking name – could do was lock her hands around me and bear it as we ripped down Redding's streets. Fuck if I didn't enjoy it, even if I'd taken her like a total barbarian.

Her hands pressed tighter around my waist each time I followed my brothers around the corners. I kept it together, but my greedy cock didn't. He was making me come apart a little more by the second, shooting lightning to my brain, making me imagine what her pretty fingers would feel like around my dick, or maybe clawing at my shoulders while I got between her legs and throttled her a hundred times harder than anything she'd feel on this easy cruise through town.

By the time we were a couple blocks from the clubhouse, she'd adjusted. Missy found her balance, loosening the death grip she had at first, just holding her hands on me like they were always meant to be there.

Why the hell did it feel so natural? My brothers and I had already done too much evil shit to her and little sis for it to feel this good.

Fuck it. I shook my head, keeping my eyes on the road, following Blackjack and Serial to the gate. Worrying about the rights and wrongs constantly was for f*ckheads like the Prairie Pussies. In this club, a man took action. If he saw something good for himself or good for the club, then he didn't wait around to ask questions or ponder the ethics. That shit was for civilian eggheads teaching philosophy.

Taking what I wanted when I wanted was the surest way I'd found to set a man free.

I slowed down and stopped while we waited for the gate to open. A few more minutes and we were in, back in the fortress. I killed my engine inside the hanger-sized garage attached to the clubhouse and started to help Missy unload.

“Where's Jackie?” she asked, without so much as a thank you.

I grunted, pointing as I took her helmet. Blackjack already had the kid off the bike and she ran toward us, throwing her skinny arms around Missy's smooth neck. They hugged for what seemed like ages.

Blackjack watched us from a distance before heading inside, shooting me a warning look. Keep this shit under control, *, or I'll finish what we started in the basement. You know I keep my word.

He didn't need to say it to read him loud and clear. When the girls were finally done sobbing all over each other, I laid a hand on Missy's shoulder. Predictably, she shook it off right away. Least I'd gotten her attention.

“Let's go inside. I got a room for you ladies. We can figure out something more permanent later, but it'll be a place to flop for now.”

I waited to make sure they weren't going to f*ck me over. After another one of those doe-eyed stares, Missy followed, holding Jackie by the hand.