Outlaw's Bride, page 8
The rage lining her face melted. “Jesus. Staging area...what are you talking about?”
“I'm talking about arsenals, smuggling, shit as big as a shipping container. Bombs, guns, body armor, the whole nine yards. All underground, tucked back on your fields, and probably several more around here. They've done this thing before. Last year, just outside LA, they took over abandoned houses and moved their shit in ahead of their men. They whacked eighty percent of the Grizzlies charter down there, and started pushing their shit on the streets before the last brother's blood dried the following week. They're sneaky sonsofbitches, but they do it seamlessly.”
Sally ran a hand through her golden hair, and I noticed the unsteady tremor in her fingertips. Fear crept into her eyes. For the first time since I'd stormed into the house, my heart got heavier in my chest.
“Lay it on me, then,” she said sadly. “What does this mean for my farm?”
“It's not safe. We'll beef up our patrols, but you and your cousin are both sitting on a ticking time bomb.” She opened her mouth to protest, and I held up a finger. “Don't act like this shit's business as usual. It isn't. With the activity going on right under your noses, you're goddamned lucky you haven't collided with the cartel assholes out in those fields. They could've killed you any day, and they still might, as long as you're both here.”
“I don't get it. We can't leave now. It's fall. Having the Grizzlies here so we could carry on was the whole point.”
Clenching my teeth, I tried to pull back, tried like absolute hell not to let the growl creep into my voice. Total fucking failure.
“Babe, when you met with Blackjack, you turned security over to us. That means protecting you, not just the ranch. I'm telling you to pull the fuck out, and it's the same damned thing I'd tell you if I saw you walking toward a burning car. The cartel doesn't ignore civilians like the MCs – especially not when they're out here in bumfuck nowhere. If you or Norm run into them, you're dead. Simple as that.”
We both shared a long look. Finally, her eyes flashed, denial lighting up her baby blues.
“I'll talk to Norm.” I waited for her to finish, but nothing else came.
Okay, now she was pissing me off.
“Unless you're gonna do a better job convincing him to get off his tractor and hit the road, don't bother. We'll handle this. That's why you brought us in. I won't let those fuckers hurt you.”
“Roman...” She stopped and pursed her lips, winding up like a generator about to explode. “Don't make me bring Blackjack in on this. He'd give us more time to talk, or maybe help us figure out a way to stay. You don't get it. This is our livelihood. If we walk away now, we're losing thousands. This is when our work breaks a profit so we can pay our bills, instead of just sinking money into the farm.”
“The Prez told you we're light on manpower, didn't he? Shit, even if we step up our patrols, we'd be lucky to secure your house, and that'd only be for a few hours. We can't leave half the crew hanging around here for fucking days. And if the cartel comes looking for blood, you'll be caught in the middle. You're not getting your head mounted on a stake on my watch.”
Her hands moved fast. Before I realized what the fuck she was doing, she had a phone in her hands, angrily tapping on the screen, rolling through her contacts.
Christ. She was really serious about talking to the Prez.
“Put that shit down, babe. Not gonna ask again.”
I meant every fucking word. We started off stepping in it the second I yanked Beam off her, but I tried hard to keep it diplomatic. That shit was gonna end if her fingers didn't stop moving.
“Goddamn it, Sally.” Lunging, I moved to the couch, hauling her onto my lap while she struggled to keep the phone away from me.
Fuck. The woman was surprisingly nimble. It was easy to forget that when we'd fucked a million years ago, but this bullshit wrestling match reminded me what she could do.
Hell, suddenly, we were closer than we'd been since that last night two years ago, pounding into her, making her scream my name as I emptied my balls inside her, marking her as mine.
She sunk her teeth into my throat when she came. I fucking loved it.
“Stop – stop!” Getting the upper hand didn't take long.
One more pull, and the phone was in my hands. I stuffed it into my pocket, trying not to break the screen, reluctantly untangling myself from her arms and legs.
“Bastard!” she spat, aiming her foot at my chest.
I moved aside just in time. She missed me and kicked the end table instead, hard enough to send the lamp there crashing to the floor.
The fucking thing hit hard, exploding into a million pieces. I stood up, surveyed the damage, and let out a low whistle.
“You've got a fuck of a temper, babe. I don't blame you for being pissed, but you gotta stop fighting me. It's bad for your blood pressure.”
The look she gave me caused a double take. I wondered where the hell my blonde, blue-eyed beauty went. Some demon replaced her, and she was gonna fly like a rocket and scratch my damned eyes out if I didn't smooth shit over.
Our ears ringing from the glass lamp shattering must've been the only thing holding her back. There was still a high, grating sound – so intense I needed a few seconds to realize it wasn't just broken glass rumbling my eardrum.
Something upstairs. Something crying.
A baby. For the second time since I stepped into the house, my jaw almost hit the floor.
“What the fuck? You got a kid in here, babe?”
Sally's bitter defeat vanished in a heartbeat. Her eyes went huge, saucer-like, as if I sprouted a second fucking head outta my shoulder.
I turned toward the staircase just as she started babbling. “Roman, wait...you can't go up there.”
Can't? Who the fuck does she think she's kidding?
I had to find out what the hell she was hiding. Hundred year old floorboards creaked beneath my boots as I crossed the short distance to the stairs, then took those fuckers two at a time.
She couldn't catch up in time, screaming and crying after me. My heart went nuclear, throbbing pure venom in my veins. I couldn't imagine what the fuck had her so upset.
Actually, I could, but it couldn't be. No fucking way. God wouldn't be so cruel – not even to a bastard biker like me.
Upstairs, I tore the simple white door wide open and stepped inside. There was a cradle, a loud cry, and then the most familiar face I'd ever seen outside Ma's old photo book.
Seeing the kid was like looking into an old photograph. Holyyyy fuck.
My heart was fucking gone, not even in the same universe. I reached up and banged a fist on my chest to restart it, keep it from dying outta shock before I met my son up close.
Sally was right behind me, hyperventilating through her tears, panicked as all hell. And yeah, she fucking should've been.
I'd already decided what to do to the bitch who'd shut me outta his life. But first, I had something more important to take care of.
V: Furious (Sally)
My whole world ended the instant I forced myself upstairs and saw him standing over Caleb's cradle. I wasn't sure where the hell I was standing, but it definitely wasn't the same planet I was on ten seconds ago.
I could deal with that one. I could handle the cartel and the club, taking Roman's crap and flinging it back at him, muddling along as a single mother farm girl. I could even take the infuriating way he barged into my life and took control, shaming me, sticking his nose where it didn't belong.
But watching the strange new reality rising up in front of me...how could I even start to understand it, much less deal with it?
He knew. My best kept secret, destroyed, wrecked in the blink of an eye by shattering glass and a hungry baby rudely awakened from his nap.
All ruined by one mistaken kiss.
I knew I shouldn't have let Beam get so close. I shouldn't have invited him in for water. And there's no fucking way I should've let him put his glass down, walk me into the other room, push me against the wall and take my lips.
Now karma was coming to pay, and she was a bitch so mean she'd hold me down, make me lick her bitter tasting boots.
“Fucking shit.” The harsh words coming out of Roman's mouth didn't sound angry.
They sounded...stunned. For a second, he stood next to the cradle like he'd just found a winning lottery ticket inside it. Everything beneath my waist went numb, terrified to move, anguish setting in as his huge hands reached inside and picked up my son.
His son.
“Fuck, you're mine,” he growled, keeping his back to me the whole time. “Mine. My son...”
Tears stung my eyes like napalm. Something about watching the biggest asshole in the entire club go to pieces the second he held the kid reached up through my stomach and gutted me.
Roman was a bastard. An irresponsible jackass. A man who couldn't keep it in his pants for a million bucks.
But he was also a father. And I'd robbed him of that for more than a year.
Slowly, agonizingly, the feeling returned to my toes. I forced myself to move through what felt like concrete, inching toward him. If only I could form words from the desert my mouth had become.
Why wasn't Caleb crying? My baby boy was usually cranky after he woke up, but not now. Nobody except me and the babysitters normally held him. He always squirmed when cousin Norm did too.
The baby cooed, smacked his lips, and laid his head against Roman's palm.
Nothing made sense. He cried with almost everyone except me – everyone! – everybody except for this cruel, inked up, mountain of a man rocking Caleb's tiny body in his massive arms.
“Roman,” I managed, calling to him when I was less than a foot away. “Please put him down. We'll go downstairs, talk this over. I'll explain –“
“Explain what?”
Shit. The rumble in his throat was just like a volcano winding up to explode. Slowly, he turned toward me, cradling Caleb tighter against his chest.
“I'm not interested in a goddamned thing you've got to say. You lost the right to tell me shit the second you decided to keep my own son a secret.”
Fuck. I couldn't hold the tears in anymore. They went spilling down my cheeks. Apparently for nothing because Roman's face didn't soften a bit.
His honey colored eyes – the same beautiful hazel gems in Caleb's face – beamed total disgust. Hatred. I wondered where to find the closest cartel spider hole so I could crawl into it and die.
“Roman!” Fear caused my voice to crack. “Don't do this. Please, whatever it is you need to say to me, just put the baby down. I don't want to see him upset.”
“Upset?” His lips pulled up in a savage grin. “I'll never upset this amazing little bastard unless there's a damned good reason. Shit, what am I saying? The boy's not a bastard anymore. His father's here, and I'm sure as fuck gonna set things right. I'd say that's cause for celebration – how 'bout you?”
I didn't have to strain to detect the venom rising in his voice. Oh, God. I'd be lucky to see Caleb or anything else again.
With the way he was looking at me, I'd be really lucky to end up in a spider hole, and not just a remote ditch where nobody would ever find my body. My heart skipped every other beat, and I stepped backwards, shaking my head, putting my hands behind me to steady my failing knees against the wall.
“I'm so, so fucking sorry, Roman. You've got to believe me! I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to keep him away forever. I didn't know you'd get out alive, or what you'd even gone away for. I just –“
“Shut up.”
My lips clamped shut. Roman stepped forward, softly stroking his son's brow. The soft, fatherly touch contrasted wickedly with his killer stare, devouring me piece by piece.
With two words, he turned me to stone. I stood and watched, trying to remember to breathe, as Roman walked past. He headed for my bedroom.
What the fuck? Caleb!
I didn't seriously believe he'd hurt the baby, especially after he just gushed all over his new son. But the banging starting in the other room scared the hell out of me.
“Hey! What're you doing in here?” I watched in disbelief as his huge hands ripped my closet open, tearing clothes off the hangers.
Jesus. I imagined him building a huge bonfire out of my things, razing the entire farm to the ground.
I wasn't blind to an outlaw biker's nature. They became total bloodthirsty barbarians under the right circumstances. And yeah, keeping his one year old son under wraps just might flip his murder, destroy, and burn switch.
“Stop!” I screamed, getting in his face as clothes started flying out behind him. Caleb moaned in his arms, and he pushed me away. “You can't fucking do this, Roman. Give him back. Just give me my baby and tell me what you're going to do to us!”
“He's coming with me, babe, and so are you.” Snarling, he pushed the baby back into my arms.
Tears filled my eyes as I clutched him close, feeling his softness, praying it wouldn't be the very last time. I had to leave. I had to get out while I still could.
Oh, except Roman blocked the door, kicking it shut. He stood like a sentinel, arms folded. He waited for me to fuck up, do something that would give him another chance to rip our child away.
“You behave yourself, and I'll let you keep holding him. I'll tell you exactly what's gonna happen here, babe. You're gonna rifle through all that shit I just laid out on the bed and stuff it in a bag. Don't give a fuck if it's a suitcase, backpack, gun case, or garbage bag. Just get your fucking shit together as fast as your hands and feet can move. Now.”
I blinked, then beamed every ounce of rage throttling my bloodstream at him. No effect. His cold, unmoving eyes pierced right through me, forcing me to turn toward the mess on the bed.
Fuck him for doing this. Fuck him for finding out about Caleb. Fuck him for reminding me I had zero control over what happened next now that my worst nightmare was coming true.
With a sigh, I gently put Caleb on the bed next to me and wiped my sore, wet eyes. Roman had already flung my big duffel bag out on the floor next to me, and I picked it up, remembering it used to belong to Uncle Ralph.
What the hell would he say if he saw me now? Using the same bag we lugged along on our happy family camping trips to be taken hostage, without even putting up a fight?
If only. Fighting wasn't an option. Not now.
Roman would rip me apart if I resisted, take Caleb away from me forever. The hellfire in his eyes said his tolerance for bullshit had plummeted to zero.
So, I packed in silence, trying not to look too closely at my baby or anything that would bring on more tears. By the time my bag was half full, I wanted to laugh.
It would've been funny in a dark, twisted way if it weren't so awful. I wanted to laugh at the irony. It wasn't the cartel threatening to ruin my life for good.
No, it was the man I once thought I loved, the bastard I never should've kissed, much less had a kid with. And now, that same utter bastard had his eyes glued to me like an eagle soaring over a desert rat.
My judge, jury, and executioner, all in one.
“Come on. Hurry it the fuck up, woman. I wanna be outta here by nightfall.”
Where are you going to take me? A shallow grave?
I honestly had no idea. I wouldn't put anything past him and the club. The penalty for some random bitch stealing a man's kid must be high, even if Blackjack seemed like a wise and reasonable man. There was no denying I'd wronged a brother in his club, and he wouldn't be protecting me.
Thankfully, dead women didn't pack bags. That gave me a shred of hope.
When I finally stuffed my last few pairs of panties in and zipped it shut, I couldn't stand it anymore. I turned toward him and flinched. The same icy, hateful stare on his strong face hadn't lessened a bit.
“Pick up the kid. Let's go,” he growled, flinging the door open, holding out one arm for me to pass like the world's evilest gentleman.
Women and children first, right?
“Just tell me one thing.” I swallowed the heavy lump in my throat. “Promise me you won't take away my baby. Not unless you kill me first.”
He chuckled. Throaty. Raw. Infuriating.
“Everybody in this room's coming with me alive, including you. I'm not the demon you think I am. We're gonna work through our issues, Sally. I've neglected this shit for far too long. I tried to walk the fuck away and forget. I'd have never done that if you'd told me the truth, and now, it's staring right at me.” He looked at Caleb, resting his head on my shoulder.
“What issues? What are you saying?” Bikers don't do group therapy.
Stepping forward, he backed me against the wall in the hallway, slowly and deliberately so Caleb wouldn't scream. “I'm giving you another chance because you're fucking hot and you've kept my kid safe. I'm not blind. You've been the biggest bitch in the world to me, but that's not a death sentence – not yet. You get one more try, babe. One more shot. Only one.”
His hot, raging lips touched the edge of my ear. I shuddered.
“We're gonna be one big, happy family, or I'm doing this shit on my own. You'll learn to smile real big and be the best old lady a man's ever had in the entire Grizzlies MC. I hope to fuck you packed something that'll make my dick throb on our honeymoon.”
Honeymoon? Family? Old lady?!
I wasn't sure if the lightning in his words hit my head or my heart first. All I remembered was breaking, sliding down along the wall, and sitting there while Roman took out his phone and dialed his guys.
Half an hour later, the older man named Southpaw had Caleb in an SUV ahead of us, and we followed behind him, mounted on Roman's bike.
The crisp autumn air normally caressed my cheeks, but out here, heading into Redding, it was like a slap in the face. Everything burned, especially my fingers. They wouldn't stop shaking no matter how tight I clung to his rock hard abs.
Hating them. Loving them. Sick to death that this asshole's body could still make me feel anything except an urge to drive a sharp object into his throat.
I'd never been into the psychic, superstitious stuff, but as we neared the clubhouse, I saw the future so clear it was like a prophecy.
