Never Kiss an Outlaw(24)

With a dark look, Sixty stood, clicking the last piece of his rifle into place. He walked inside cradling it without looking back, slinking off to find a bottle and one of his best drinking mates like Crawl.

Joker looked at me, still stroking Bingo. I cocked my head and spoke through clenched teeth.

“What? Brother needs to learn when to shut the fuck up. He's always been bad about running his mouth, leading himself into trouble he oughta know full well to stay the hell away from.”

“He ain't the only one.”

Ah, shit. Now I'm gonna get a lecture from Mister Crazy Eyes? I thought. Where the fuck did I sign up for this shit?

“You wanna elaborate?” I growled, standing back and lifting my gun. I aimed at the last dummy I hadn't blown to smithereens, its paint chipping off, giving it one ugly looking face.

We'd gotten ourselves a small army of the damned things from a junk run for bike parts a couple months ago. All the boys used 'em for target practice now.

“Sixty's better with his face buried in a bottle. So are you, brother,” Joker said, his voice a low, guttural whisper. “You're calling her your girl. You're getting too attached. Prez told me he warned you. Doesn't look like you're listening.”

My gun barked. Shit.

My shot only grazed the dummy, took half its face off, and left the other half staring at us in an even more fucked up, creepy way than it had been before.

“That's my biz, Veep. Nobody else's. I'm man enough to keep my dick from dragging with a mind of its own. What happens between me and Cora, that'll stay behind closed doors. Won't ever become a problem for the club.”

“Bullshit!” Joker spat, wiping his blade on one thigh. “You ignore Dust's advice, point blank and stupid, it becomes his problem. That makes it the club's, too.”#p#分页标题#e#

We shared a long, tense look. Between us, the big, hairy wolfhound looked confused, wondering why two men who shared the patch were suddenly at each other's throats.

Too bad that'd been the norm half the time in this club. Scarce coin and pussy turned men on each other, but we always rallied before the big dogs from outside came in and tore us apart.

Didn't doubt for a second every man who called me brother would take a bullet to save my ass, and I'd do the same for them. We had our disagreements. Big and small and completely fucked up.

But we always rallied. Always. And I told myself I wouldn't let any pussy come between it – even though Joker's words pissed me right off.

I didn't get it. His concerns were bullshit.

Who cares what the fuck happens between me and Cora? He's acting like it'd be any different than all the other times, like when Skin got the whole club behind the whore he rescued.

I looked at him, watching as he cleaned his blade, the only thing he seemed to care about besides club duty and that damned dog.

“Brother, you know I've always put this club first, second, and third. You think that shit'll stop because I'm chasing some skirt the Prez doesn't like me going after, you're wrong. Wrong as fuck.” I kicked the empty shell casing on the ground with my boot. “Go ahead and squawk about how I'm after his best friend's daughter. Rat me out to Dust. I don't give a shit. By the time he gets my dick beneath his blade, it'll have been up inside her, and then I'll be done having anything to do with her. I'm gonna fuck this shit outta my system, and then none of us'll have any more distractions.”

“I'm no rat,” Joker growled, holding up his blade to study it. He laid his hand down flat on the old stump, his dog at his side, and spread his fingers.

Great. I turned away in disgust. He couldn't help giving everybody around him a freakshow, ready to risk his fingers again on his ritual, his trademark, stabbing down into the empty spaces on the wood.

“Prez'll find out sooner or later, whatever the fuck you do. Whatever, ain't my problem. Last time I try to save myself some grief before I gotta find a new Enforcer.”

“Save it. I'm not a fucking fool,” I snapped. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Truth is, we're all fools here, brother,” he said, slowing the thrusts of the knife between his fingers. “I'm not just telling you this shit because I make whatever Prez says law. Just don't want to see you fucked over.”

We shared a long, tense look before he spoke again.

“Go away, Firefly. Get away from her. Go back to pumping iron, boozing, and fucking bitches you won't remember. That's the kinda fool this club needs – anything different is gonna make you dangerous, make you stupid, and weaken us all.”

Fuck him. I'd run outta shit to say.

I walked, slinging my shotgun over my shoulder and heading into the clubhouse. The dog whined behind me, drowned out by the steady, quicker thump-thump-thump of the crazy Veep's blade on wood. One day, the psycho would take a finger off doing that shit.