Outlaw's Vow: Grizzlies MC Romance(56)

He stopped, took his cig outta his mouth, and nodded at the huge Grizzlies MC banner draped across the wall. Most clubhouses had one, the same roaring bear on our patch in the middle, deadly as a modern pirate flag.

“The minute we stop respecting the bear is when we go to pieces. Every charter winds up at each other's throat if there's no brotherhood, no strength in numbers, no common cause. That won't happen on my watch.”

Everybody in the room watched as he lifted his cig to his mouth and took a long pull. He made a show of turning his head away and letting smoke roll out his mouth when his lungs were full, intentionally not blowing it in One-Eye's face.

“We'll find Gil because we need to find the Black Dragons. Nobody fucks with this club,” he growled. “If we let them dismember the Tacoma charter and hold a President hostage, however much he deserves it, we'll have every other group breathing down our necks in a few months. Japanese, Irish, Russians, Mexican cartel – hell, even the little shitstain MCs down in Dixie like the Deadhands and the Pistols will come gunning for their piece of the bear. It'll be open season on everybody sitting in these chairs. Killing your boys and taking Gil away in that van was a kick in the balls, no bones about it. We're not gonna fucking take it.”

Line's fists were clenched so tight on the table his knuckles went white. He restrained himself, just listening. Smart man.

Before the Prez was done, I saw a hot tear spill a jagged path down Line's cheek, falling from his good eye.

“I want everybody in this room to stand up and shake hands.” Nobody moved. The Prez narrowed his eyes and looked at us. “You heard me.”

Blackjack waved us up with one hand. “If any one of you gets the urge to knife another man wearing your patch, you're helping the Dragons. You'll be treated like the traitorous fucking rat you are. Until we've got Gil back here and we're dealing with him our way, until we've killed every last one of the men who piled up severed bodies wearing Tacoma cuts like trash, no man in this room has any reason to hurt his brother. None.”

Fucking shit. The man talked too much sense for his own good. Sometimes it cut through our guts like a dagger.

Brass nodded and stood up first. We all watched as he walked over to Carbon, the Tacoma prospect. The lean kid stood up and shook when our Veep gave him the most aggressive, lung-crushing hug I'd ever seen.

Roman, Rabid, they all did the same. Even Blackjack embraced one of the full patch Tacoma guys we'd rescued.

I was the last one standing, looking at Line across the room. He started walking toward me, and I pinched fists so hard I thought my fingers would rupture like overcooked sausages.

The Tacoma VP came to a stop in front of me and flashed me a viper's smile. I threw my arms around him and we wrestled right there, trying to see who could crush out the other man's breath the fastest.

In the end, I let him think he won.

This brother was a damned fool for following Gil off the cliff and nearly losing his life over it. But he wasn't Elle's old man, the real SOB who'd stolen her away from me.

Gil did that with his fucked up failure of a plot. So did the Chinese when they'd held her, tortured her, left her with some pitch black poison memories I'd have to spend weeks fucking outta her sweet head.

Line and his crew didn't deserve to have the life choked outta them for obeying orders and putting my woman in peril. I knew exactly who did.

And once I found those motherfuckers, they were all as good as dead.





IX: Sweet Mercy (Elle Jo)


The devil in my dream screamed over the sound of gunfire, plus an explosion that sounded like it just ate half the world.

All Mandarin. All wicked words I wish I didn't understand.

You're going to come with me, little girl. Just as soon as you're finished coming on my cock.

It's a quickie. You and me.

You know how many hours I've been dreaming about tasting this pussy? Finding out how loud you scream? I never had American pussy before, and I'm going to ruin it.

He stared at me in the dark metal box, his eyes flaming animal lust. Zee's followers were just as insane as their leader.

Maybe it was the adrenaline pounding through my veins, or the fact that the demons hadn't even brought me breakfast. I barely knew what was happening when instinct grabbed me by the throat and slammed me down.

I couldn't let this happen without a fight. I had to stop it, even it meant the end of me.

I waited until he started pulling down my jeans before I kicked. Hard.

My foot flew harder than I'd ever moved in my life. Hard as I wanted to live, to see Asphalt and daddy again, to avoid being used and abused in this stinking shipping container while everything went to hell around us.

The mafia man's eyes rolled back in agony as my shoe destroyed his balls. He hit the ground, groaning, clutching his gun until his fingers gave up and dropped it at his side.