Page 60 of Never Wed an Outlaw

I looked Firefly square in the face. He stared at me while I walked back to my seat, never saying a word.

“About half you boys got women and kids to worry about. Believe me, I'm starting to share your frustrations with the river of blood we're always trying to cross withoutdrowning in this biz.” Skin and Joker nodded.

“Everybody else, you're still deciding who you are. Maybe you'll be content to fuck bitches, make money, and ride with the wind for the rest of your days. That's your right, and there ain't nothing wrong with it.” Sixty looked at me and grinned, his goatee twitching in a way that said he'd never give up the partying.

“We're all different, every man wearing this patch, but we took an oath to each other. If we don't live by it, and die by it if need be, we don't have shit. When I slam this gavel down, bringing church to a close, I want three brothers bringing Firefly to the bar. Give him as much as he needs to calm the fuck down.” I paused, locking eyes with my big pissed off brother again, hating that he had the same baby blues as my Hannah. “Firefly, when you sober up, we'll sit down and talk. Whenever and wherever you want. Let's talk this out like men, unarmed, and make ourselves a deal we can both live with.”

“I ain't making shit with you, Cap'n. You're a backstabbing son of a fuck who stuck your dick in the wrong fuckin' place. Fuck you. Fuck –“

Skinny boy cut him off with a quick, blunt punch to the gut. We'd all had enough.

“I'm closing this out for the day, boys. We'll all sit down and talk, soon as I've found us something worth talkin' about.”

I slammed the gavel down so hard the handle nearly snapped. Sitting back in my chair, I watched my brothers haul Firefly away, still spitting and cussing me out.

It'd take a lot of whiskey to soak his ass happy. And even then, some poor bastard might wind up with his fists in their face, taking punches I deserved.

Joker nodded, the last one leaving the room, giving me a brotherly slap on the shoulder. I lingered behind for a few minutes, staring at the relics lining the wall. Old photos, flags, and patches hung in frames like museum pieces, capturing a hundred good times, bad times, and dirty fuckin' times under my old man's rule.

I'd finish what I started, turning this club around. I fuckin' had to.

It wasn't all about Hannha, even if she'd taken centerstage. Every man who had my back deserved a happy ending. I'd put my ass on the line a hundred times over if I could bring it. I'd even see the day when Firefly got over his shit, hugged his sis, and sat next to me with a beer while we watched our kids playing at our feet.

11

Fading (Hannah)

Seven Weeks Later

Three weeks after I started living in his modest house, it grew on me. I hadn't appreciated small spaces growing up. Probably because the mobile home Huck and me were raised in was dirty, desperate, and surrounded by crazies.

But this cozy little rambler on the other side of town...this was nice. I sat on his deck every evening, my laptop sprawled out around me, listening to the birds coming down from the Smokies to say hello.

It was already November, with Thanksgiving coming up fast. Soon it'd be too cold to sit out here, even in a jacket. I normally did the holidays with Huck, whenever I wasn't off traveling. This year should've been extra special with Cora and the baby.

Too bad my brother hadn't called me in weeks. Cora sent texts every so often, cautiously trying to make peace, but I could tell she was afraid to get in the middle of it. I wouldn't press her either, especially with her baby due anytime.

Limbo made the long, sad season even more melancholy. I pressed him all the time about the Sicilians, and he mostly cut me off after a point. Every time I hearddon't fuckin' worry, darlin',orclub business,my fears pitched into overdrive.

They hadn't found a solid lead. Even stranger, Dom and his men hadn't tried to hit us yet.

I expected it every night, laying wide awake sometimes. Just waiting for a window to cave in, sending broken glass flying everywhere, about a second before evil men with guns were at the foot of our bed.

I wasn't the only one who was restless. Dusty slept fitfully, mumbling in his sleep. Sometimes, I'd catch him sitting up, staring into the darkness, one hand on his nightstand, just inches from the nine millimeter he kept for protection.

Other times, he'd fall into bed with me, hold me in his big, strong arms, and rock us both back to sleep until all our worries were a million miles away. I loved this man more by the day because he cared. I even appreciated his hurt because he couldn't finish things like he wanted.

One morning, about a week before Thanksgiving, I woke up sick. It must've been the late night burger, an order from a greasy spoon I'd shared with him before we passed out, exhausted from more late night detective work after I'd done my coding for the day, and he'd done his bossy biker businessman thing.

“We'll fuckin' find them, Hannah,” he'd growled the night before, after sex. I laid against his chest. “Don't carehow long it takes. Don't give a damn how many dead ends, loose ends, and worthless ends we keep running into. I ain't letting you down, darlin', not 'til we can sleep easy because every last one of those fucks is dead.”

His words were reassuring, like always, on the surface. Deep down, they scared me. If his best intelligence and my brightest detective work online couldn't find a meaningful trace of these people, they could hit us anytime.

The mobsters knew who we were, where we were, and what we did. We were blind.

Washing up, I splashed cold water on my face, wishing it was the reason I shuddered. If only it weren't Dom, his threats still stalking me, every day he lurked out there, without being found, and dealt with.

I came downstairs, drank some water, and laid on the couch, letting the soft grey November light spill across me. Several prospects stood on the deck for a smoke, my permanent guard. There were constantly at least two outside when he'd left for the day.

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