Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love)

“It's here,” Skin said nervously, pulling out his phone. He looked at the Prez and then at Sixty, both of them on each side of me. Quietly making sure they were ready to hold me down when I lost my shit, before I turned the whole clubhouse upside down.

I'd only seen pictures of the sick, pockmarked motherfucker who showed up on the screen a couple times before. His lips twitched, smug and punchable, making my knuckles burn. Fuck, I wanted to break his jaw, and then keep going 'til the goddamned thing was just a mess swinging on his face.

“Hi, assholes. It's your old friend, Hatch. Listen, I've got something that belongs to you.” He stood up, stepped aside, and I saw him.

Alex. Sitting glumly in a booster seat, an ugly looking bitch with neon purple hair at his side, grinning like the wicked witch. Probably some nasty fuckin' slut they'd recruited to watch over him while they decided what the fuck to do.

“Let me tell ya, this little shit's got nine lives or something. Came close to gutting him before, having a sniper put a hole through his little head. Right in front of his ma. Whatever I had to do when I wanted that fuckin' bitch to crawl up your asses and pull out some gold.” He paused, and my fists flexed 'til it burned up to my shoulder, watching that shit-eating smirk die on his face. “Well, we all know how that worked out. She bailed on me. I've lost two of my men. If we weren't in open fucking war before, we sure as shit are now!”

He spun around, shook the camera, screaming into it. I caught a blur of the bitch holding my kid, pulling him to her chest, covering his ears. “Hatch, please...”

“Here's how it's going down, kids. You want this brat to keep breathing – and I know you pussies do – you'll drain your fuckin' accounts. Eight hundred big. A million if you've got it, and you want more insurance I won't pluck a hair outta his tiny little head. Dumped on my doorstep, outside Seddon, where I've set up camp, in forty eight hours or less. You tell the Grizzlies and the Devils to fuck right off, stay in their own territory. Better, you tell 'em our business is the way to go, give us free access through Tennessee, and maybe we won't mow you fuckers down.”

A slow burning rage moved through every man in the room. All eyes were glued to Skin's phone while the piece of shit ragged on.

“No negotiations. No other choices. You fuck me over, the brat dies. You fuck me over, we ride up to Knoxville the second after we cut his fuckin' throat, slam our boot up your asses, and kill every last one of you. We burn your clubhouse. Tear apart your shitty fuckin' strip club, drag every bitch we can find back to Georgia in chains. Old lady, whore, who the fuck ever. This ain't a conversation, boys. It's a demand, motherfuckers, and it will be fucking met. Because if it ain't...”

The shithead trailed off, smiling. Slowly, he turned toward my son, and pointed his knife, guiding one long cut through the air. Up and down.

The bitch holding Alex gave him a sour look before the screen went black.

“That's all we've got,” Skin said quietly. “Intel says they're somewhere around Seddon, just like the bastard said. Don't know how many. Could be half a crew if this is just a raiding party. Could be a whole fuckin' army if he brought in men from the other chapters.”

“When do we go?” I growled, looking at the Prez.

“We have to wait for the Grizzlies. Blackjack says his boys are about fifteen hours out. I've told him everything, and they're hauling ass to get here, coming through the Midwest right now. We can't do shit 'til we've got numbers. He's luring us into a trap. He knows damned well we won't comply.”

“Yeah,” Firefly said, trying to pin me down with his cold blue eyes. “He ain't wrong. We're going over everything before we rush in blind, making damned sure we can creep into Georgia without them finding out. We break into two groups, hit 'em from two directions, they won't see it coming. They're used to us being small, moving together. They don't know about the deal with the Grizzlies. We've got reinforcements. Just need to wait for 'em.”

He talked calmly. Smoothly. A commander's words intended to diffuse the anger turning my blood molten, keep me from doing something stupid.

Fuck, stupid? That was wasting one more second here waiting, sitting while those fuckin' jackals did God only knew what to my kid.

“Reinforcements?” I said coldly, straining my throat. “No waiting. The damned Grizzlies ain't greenhorns, they can fuckin' catch up to us.”

“Brother, please,” Dust said, the tension on his face bleeding out, begging for calm. “I know you're torn up. Know you're losing your mind, listening to us pinpoint strategy while they've got your kid and put your girl in a fuckin' coma. You've got to wait.”

Wait? Wait?!

Was this motherfucker serious?

For three goddamned fuckin' years, he'd told me to sit on my ass. Wait.

Be a good, patient little boy while he schemed to bring down my brother's killers, the same ruthless assholes who had my son hostage, who'd put my old lady in a stupor.

Fuck him. Fuck me.