Page 37 of Never Wed an Outlaw

“Yeah, now you know. Darlin', listen. I'll do everything I can to drag my ass home in one piece, same as everybody else. You're too close to the club between your brother and me. You oughta be on lockdown with everybody else, walled off at the clubhouse.”

No.I couldn't let that happen when I still had a mountain of coding to do, plus a madman with a gun to my head.

“Nobody knows about me, Dusty. I need to stay here for work. I'm not some defenseless little girl who needs the club's protection. Lord knows I've let Firefly post guards around here often enough.” I gave Dust a reassuring look, but he wasn't softening.

“If you're staying here, then I'm pulling a couple prospects away from the clubhouse. They'll stand outside your gate like this is Buckingham fuckin' Palace.”

“Dust...” I reached out, gently laying a hand on his stiff, angry shoulder. “I'll rent a bodyguard if it'll make you feel better. There are enough mercenaries around these parts togo around with all the bad juju that's been happening lately.”

That was an understatement. I heard rumors about the assassins and creeps the Torches sent here over Cora, not to mention the dirty pimp and Deadhands bikers who'd nearly kept Skin from Meg.

“Fine. You've got one chance to get your fuckin' bodyguard, and text me exactly who he is by noon so I can do a background check. If he ain't clean or I find out you dropped the ball, I'm coming back here, darlin'. I won't be happy. Sure as I'm standing here, I'lldragyour sweet ass back to my clubhouse naked, if that's what it takes to keep you safe.”

He talked like he owned me, his to do as he pleased.Infuriating.

Or, at least, it should've been, being treated like his property, but a bizarre tingle ran through my blood. Possessive meant he cared in this twisted, gruff biker context, and I appreciated it.

“Dusty, I'mnotyour old lady. I know a thing or two about how to save myself. I'll be fine on my own. I've dealt with plenty of hired guns between Huck and Sterner Corp security.”

“You know where I'm coming from, darlin', and you'll listen just this once. Boundaries, I get. And they're not worth a damn when your life's on the line. Don't make me shove a ring on your finger, stamp my name in your skin, and start calling youmine.Because believe me, Hannah, if that's what it takes to make you listen, Iwillfuckin' do it.”

He'd never looked at me quite like this. Sure, I recognized the fearsome MC Prez barking orders, but it was more, too. I saw a man laying his claim. It shocked me so hard I had to put my hand against the wall for support.

“You'll hear from me by noon,” I promised, slowly walking up to him. “Give them hell, Dusty. Whoever theyare. Bring Joker's little boy home.”

“I will, Hannah,” he growled, grabbing me by the neck and pulling me to his lips for a rough, uneven kiss. “Then I'm coming back so we can finish everything we started here last night.”

I stood in the doorframe with my heart in my throat, watching him climb on his bike, and roar out into the night. The stakes just got higher in the dangerous game I'd been playing – if Dom and his assholes found out I'd hired a bodyguard, they'd bring so much hell even the Pistols might not be able to handle it.

I had to take the chance. Lifting my fingers to my lips, I touched the numb, hot impression he'd left with his mouth, his teeth, his stubble.

His kiss promised he was worth the risk, and hinted at so much more. Whatever else I had to deal with before I could live something resembling a normal life, it took a backseat to finding out what else he'd promised.

8

Thanks for Nothing (Dust)

The worst week of my life in twenty years started the second I peeled away from Hannah's mansion.

Joker spilled the beans by the damned truckload. He told the brothers about Piece, the dirty, murderous secret we'd kept from everyone, and said point blank he wasn't waiting for revenge. He was gonna go and take it.

Then he took off alone. I got my dick nailed to the wall by my boys, who held off on a vote for my gavel 'til we settled with the Deads.

When we finally caught up to the Veep and came crashing into their lair, with a little help from our friends in the Grizzlies MC, we found a shit show.

They'd beat the shit outta Joker. Laid him up for weeks.

We killed every last miserable bastard wearing their patch over it, including their sick fuck leader, Hatch. It was a pleasure to carve the blood stained patches off his cut and bring 'em home for Joker and his grandpa to savor. Old man Taylor had been waiting a long time in that fuckin' nursing home to see his grandson avenged, and see the other one whole. He could finally die in peace, whenever the time came.

The club had new business, now that the Deads were in disarray and we had a route from sea to shining sea wide open for the gun trade. Blackjack and Throttle promised plenty of trade flowing down from their MCs. All three of our clubs had a beautiful corridor stretching across the country.

As for me fuckin' everybody over by holding onto secrets for too long, well, we settled that, too.

I sat through the entire agonizing vote for my gavel. Half the boys voted against me, hoping for a new Prez, and I didn't blame 'em one bit.

When it came down to that single swing vote, I thought I'd be fucked, considering it was in Firefly's hands. But the big, beautiful sonofabitch looked me coldly in the eyes, voting to keep me in charge.

Never expected that. Never thought he'd put the club's own good over the personal shit stirring him up with me and Hannah, but he did.

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