Outlaw's Vow: Grizzlies MC Romance(179)

As long as I controlled my rage, I wouldn't end up like my old man. At least not by one careless, explosive instant.

It wasn't looking good for us, but every second we delayed and kept ourselves alive evened the odds against these bastards. I couldn't let the caveman urge to tear his fucking head off steal my whole fucking future with Sally and Caleb. I had to let him swing his dick without trying to hack it off until the time was right.

“Carlos!” The cartel boss barked, and Beam whipped his head around. “Get back in line. Now.”

Gold Teeth stepped forward, shoved his way past me, and got in the Prez's face. “Well? You going to take the deal I offered, or not? It's the best one you'll get, old man. And you're all out of leverage.”

“No. You'll take my counter-offer, or you'll kill us all, and get no terms with the club. No treaty means you'll have to destroy every other Grizzlies charter, all the way to Seattle. They'll never give up unless you've got a piece of paper with my name on it. Don't think you'll get anybody to flip. We've already cleaned house in every charter that would even think about cutting you a deal, capo.”

The Mexican clenched his jaw when the Prez called out the cartel captain. “A pity you didn't do such a good job keeping your own charter clean. Believe me, I'd love to spill your blood where you stand.”

“Here I am,” Blackjack growled, stepping away from the cartel boss and spreading his arms. “Do it. Firing squad style. What're you afraid of?”

Several men aimed their guns, locked and loaded on the Prez. Fuck!

The rest of the boys stirred, ready to jump in front of him and take every bullet if they needed to. Shit, shit, we were gonna die together anyway, but I sure as fuck wouldn't before I watched Beam and the cartel boss bleed out on the cold pavement underneath our boots.

“Afraid? No, old man, the only one who ought to be afraid here is you.” The boss stared at us, snarled out something in rapid fire Spanish, and all but two of the men lowered their guns. “I'll give you a few minutes. Think about what you're doing. Enjoy one last puff on your tobacco. Then, we'll see if you come to your senses. The only reason I haven't cut you and your men to pieces is because I'd really like to see your signature in blood on a new treaty. You do that for me, and anything can happen here today. There's still time to save lives all across your club, Blackjack.”

“Go to hell.” Blackjack reached into his pocket, plucked out a smoke, and lit it up.

For the first time since I quit that shit ten years ago, I wished I hadn't. It would've been fucking sweet to enjoy one last smoke.

But not half as sweet as tasting my woman's lips one more time, or hearing my kid laugh at my feet. The fucking assholes a couple feet away were taking it away, one second at a time. Thinking about our shit odds was like watching grains of sand running through a goddamned hour glass.

Can a man feel like a ghost before he's even dead?

I tried to think, straining my eyes, looking for any weakness. Asphalt, Brass, and even Stryker did the same. I didn't look too much at the last name – every time I did, it made me fucking sick.

I'd almost torched his skin off, for fuck's sake.

Maybe I deserved the dark, bloody end that was coming. Maybe today was the day karma would bitch slap me, force me to pay the brutal debts I'd stacked up over the years. Maybe my family could manage without me. I hoped to God they would.

Sally was strong. Caleb was bound to grow up a badass. This family had it in the blood.

No, I wasn't gonna see it – I wasn't gonna fucking see it.

My heart froze over, and so did the hellfire in my blood, every time I took a good look at those rifles trained on us.

The last thing I'd ever do in front of my killers was weep like a little bitch, but it was raining black sleet in my soul. I watched the Prez puff, in between sneaking looks at the smug, almost bored looks on the Mexicans' faces.

When Blackjack's cig was down to a stump and Gold Teeth's back was turned, quietly talking to one of his men by the SUV in the center, Beam made his move. He came toward me again, wearing the smirk that made me want to knock his fucking teeth out.

“You're a dead man, you know.” He gave me a cold look and spat at the ground.

I didn't flinch. “Better dead than a fucking rat. The cartels have their codes too, as fucked up as they are. How long before these bastards decide to chop your head off too, Carlos?”

I used the name Gold Teeth yelled. He gave me a nasty look, and then his face twisted.

He laughed, higher pitched than I'd heard before, betraying his anxiety. My ears pricked up at another noise coming through his shit – something lower, roaring, droning.

I squinted, looking past him toward the very edges of the old complex. I saw the faintest puffs of dust behind the old fuel tanks. Bikes were on their way, coming up the route we always used to get back here, right through a break in the rusted gate.