Never Kiss an Outlaw(23)

“I won't forget this, Firefly. You're...you're a good guy. I think.” It sounded so stupid, but there wasn't any other way to say it.

He smiled, ran his fingers through my hair, and then pulled away from me, heading for the door. “You've got drinks, plus a few more wraps and salads in the fridge. Get yourself a fucking pizza or something. I'd have torn my balls off by now if I had your diet, eating the same fat free bullshit all the time.”

I was still laughing as the door opened. He disappeared, leaving me alone.

Really, truly alone, for the first time since the awful evening when I'd come home to daddy's suicide.

I closed my eyes, savoring the silence. At the clubhouse, there'd always been someone knocking around, laughing, swearing, or else smashing their empty bottle into a bin full of them. I couldn't count the times glass falling against glass had woken me up all those miserable hours.

I didn't miss it. Nothing about the clubhouse appealed to me except the giant dog. Nothing.

Except that wasn't strictly true, was it?

Don't lie. There's no one here you need to hide it from.

That voice in my head wasn't wrong. If I had to be honest, I was starting to miss him.

Firefly chiseled a little piece of me away every time I climbed on his bike, held his hand, or looked into his crisp blue eyes. I fought to hold onto it, knowing I'd lost too much of myself to hell itself.

But his tools were too precise, too powerful, too prone to smothering me in this insane schoolgirl crush coming on like a fever.

How long before I stopped fighting? Good God!

And if I caved, if I let my lips touch his some dark, wild night, when I'd left the sadness behind just long enough to take a risk, where would it take me?

I couldn't handle another tragedy so soon. No more loss.

No matter how deep he stabbed me with his beautiful eyes or the warmth of his rogue embrace, I had to keep it together. I had to keep fighting.

I wouldn't. Couldn't. Didn't dare give in, or else it would be the end of me.

This man had heart breaker written in his soul, and the second I gave him mine, he'd destroy what little I had left.





V: Rules of Engagement (Firefly)


I blew the dummy's head clean off, shattering it like a rotten white pumpkin. Somewhere behind me, Joker's boy barked, halfway to the boom in a lion's roar.

“Shit, bro, can't tell who's fucking louder – that mutt or Firefly's gun!” Sixty laughed, cleaning his rifle. I turned around and saw him staring at the Veep, not-so-patiently waiting for his turn in the little box we'd set up for target practice.

Joker pulled his switchblade out of the stump he'd been carving, his eyes blazing on Sixty. “You call my purebred a mutt again, and I'll find somewhere else to sharpen my blade.”

Crazy motherfucker had a look in his eyes like he meant it too. Sixty put his hands up, a shaky grin on his face.

“Aw, hell, Veep. You know I didn't mean it. Maybe if he'd got himself a name by now, I wouldn't be having to grasp at shit to call him.”#p#分页标题#e#

“Name's Bingo,” Joker growled. Behind him, the big dog puffed up, and let out a loud yip.

“Bingo?” I asked, turning around. Sixty rubbed a slow hand across his face, no doubt suppressing a laugh.

“Grandpa's choice. It fits. The old man spends enough time playing that shit at the home, and the dog took a real shine to him.” Joker stuffed his blade back in his pocket and crouched, stroking the wolfhound's massive head.

“What about you, brother? Has that stray we brought in got herself a new name yet from working at the Heel?” Sixty grinned.

I wanted to march right over and wipe that dirty fucking look off his face. “Fuck, no. Told you before, she's not taking her clothes off. She's helping Meg.”

“Yeah, well, you know how the culture is. Girl's always end up doing more than they bargained for the longer they deal with skanks and a buncha horny drunks. Money's money, and it starts to get real sweet. 'Specially those nice girls – they act out the most when they get a sniff of their first dick, or maybe just their first dollar...”

Club charter said you never pointed a weapon at a brother without a damned good reason. Right now, I had to fight with everything I had to keep my gun trained on the ground.

“Today's your lucky day, brother. You're getting one good break you don't deserve. I'm gonna give you one chance to get up, apologize, and walk the fuck away before I break your jaw.” I took several heavy steps toward him, watching the little shit's goatee twitch.

“Skin would've done it by now, if you'd shat on his old lady as much as you did my girl. You're so damned stupid, you're wrong. These girls aren't dumb fucking sluts – not like the pussy you've got warming your dick every other night.”