Never Love an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love)

He stopped just short of saying idiot. For some reason, the weird catch brought a sour smile to my lips. He was civil, in his own twisted way. But that wasn't saying much for men who had no manners whatsoever.

“How do we know this isn't another trick?” I said, biting into my cheeseburger.

“I don't play games, babe. If I was really gonna drive you out into the boonies and off you, I wouldn't be wasting money feeding your mouths.” He smoothed his face with one hand. “Yeah, on the other hand, I guess you don't know shit. That's the way it's gonna stay. You'll just have to take my word for it and be good while I drive you over.”

“We've had plenty of practice, mister,” Jackie chimed in, munching on a fry. “Behaving ourselves is all we've been doing here, in case you hadn't noticed.”

Brass gave my sister a dark, angry look, but held himself in check. He never lashed out at her, even on the few occasions when she'd insulted him to his face. That surprised me.

It was hard to imagine any decency among these men. With the others, I didn't think we'd be so lucky, but Brass...well, he put at least some limits on his explosive testosterone.

“Fucking finish up. We don't got all day. I'd rather get you girls outta here without dealing with the brothers.” He turned, removing his food from the bag and digging in.

I watched him chew. There was no way he could've been more than a few years older than me, somewhere in his mid-twenties. The hormones whistling through his veins did far more than make him act like a barbarian.

He dripped sex. He was raw. Masculine. Real in a way I didn't know a man could be.

When he came into the room, he commanded my attention. His gravity tilted my whole narrow world to his barrel chested center, his emerald eyes I feared had x-ray vision to see what I was really thinking.

I hated – no, loathed – admitting it, but if he wasn't holding us prisoner here, wearing that ferocious beast on his jacket, he definitely would've turned my head at any bar.

Not that I knew much about that. Taking care of dad and Jackie finished off what little social life I'd had as a young woman. But like any red blooded woman, big muscles and devilish ink drew my eyes, and Brass was all strength and edge, a living sculpture whose rogue looks were just the type to walk up and punch you in the face.

Bastard. I hated the little flash of heat that started low in my belly whenever I saw him, the fire that would've kept spreading down between my legs if I didn't look away. And I always did.

Avoiding him was all I had. I couldn't let him infect my mind.

We ate in silence until everyone was finished. He collected our trash and tossed it into a wastebin. We stood and followed him out into the smelly hallway. No matter how many times the door opened, my nose hadn't gotten used to the reeking tobacco and old whiskey that seeped out of everything.

My nerves shook when we walked through the bar, passing several tables with dark, savage looking men. They all stopped and eyeballed us. I could handle the ugly, lecherous looks, but my face burned with rage when their eyes ran up and down Jackie's body.

She stayed close to me, and I stayed even closer to Brass. Yeah, it was definitely bad when the devil I knew was a comfort against all these other demons.

As if sensing the unease, a rough hand reached for mine. I looked up in surprise as Brass took my hand. Refusing to fight it off was an even bigger surprise.

He led us past the bar and down another hall on the opposite side of the large building. We headed for an exit at the end that looked like it led into a big garage full of trucks and motorcycles. I could see them through the glass window in the door.

“Hey!” A rough voice hit the backs of our heads like bricks when we were almost at the door.

Brass released my hand and spun, pushed through us, and stepped forward, keeping Jackie and I behind him.

“What the fuck are you doing with these bitches, Brass? Didn't hear we were ready to release any collateral.” A big man with a bald head and beefy Popeye forearms folded his arms, waiting patiently for Brass to catch up to him.

“Blackjack said to get them outta the clubhouse, so that's what I'm doing. I'm following orders, Veep.” Brass shrugged, cool as the night breeze outside.

“Fucker should've ran it by me or Fang first. I'm not convinced these cunts aren't gonna talk. Roughed 'em up pretty good from what I heard during the debriefing. Girls don’t forget that kinda shit.” The big man he called VP grunted, showing his teeth.

“We were all there for church. I know you were paying attention, Veep, same as the rest of us. You know the older one's my old lady, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You saying I don't know how to control my own woman? Fuck, brother, I've kept 'em under lock and key every damned minute they've been in this clubhouse. I haven't done anything to hurt the club and I never would. Won't let them do it neither.”

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