Outlaw's Vow: Grizzlies MC Romance(69)

It took several minutes for the rest of the boys to join us. Roman scanned the warehouse, making sure we'd annihilated every last one of the mobsters. A couple gunshots rang out in the distance, telling us he'd put one or two more outta their misery.

Blackjack walked up to me, his arms outstretched. My jaw nearly hit the floor when he threw them around me in a big brotherly hug.

“That's for saving our lives with the sniper stunt,” he growled into my ear.

Stunned, I ignored Zee's groans and started to put my arms around his back. Then the meanest blow I'd felt in awhile cut across my chin like a fucking hurricane. He hit damned hard.

I reeled back, fell against several crates, and doubled over, rubbing the blinding pain shooting through my face.

“And that's for defying a direct order and lying to me, son. Next time, you'll catch a bullet in your kneecap.” The Prez pointed, his finger stern and cold as a dagger. “Never again.”

“Understood. Sorry, Prez,” I mumbled, spitting out the blood pooling in my mouth, hoping I'd be able to talk so I could get the very last thing I needed.

“Get this sack of shit loaded for the ride to Redding,” Blackjack said to Brass and Rabid. “We'll bring him home and find out everything he knows.”

“Prez, wait...” I touched him gently on the shoulder, and squeezed. “I don't give a shit if you wanna torture this fuck any way you please for intel. But the kill needs to be mine. I gotta give Elle something to make up for all this. I need to –“

My words stopped in my throat as Roman stepped up, a switchblade in his hand. Elle Jo stepped out behind him, her hands cut free from the cord binding them. Her attention was totally on Gil, hanging onto her shoulder, and she didn't see me 'til I spat more blood.

“Asphalt, baby, oh my God!”

Fuck. I took one more long look at Zee, his head twisting unnaturally as the boys carried him toward the truck. He'd have a long, hellish ride to California. The tourniquet they'd put on his leg would keep him from bleeding out, but he'd suffer just the same, knowing he was completely at our mercy.

And we had none.

Shit, I had absolute zero. Negative fucking mercy, if such a thing were possible. I wanted to kill him, slice through his nasty face, lift the fucking scalp off his head and hand it to my baby girl as payment for what she'd suffered.

She needed a bloody guarantee that my word was solid, and this shit would never, ever happen again.

But she needed my arms around her more right now.

I stepped away from the cursing, wriggling mafia don and hugged my woman. For just a second, I could savor having her in my arms, something that seemed downright impossible a couple hours ago.

“Never should've let you leave the clubhouse,” I said, reaching for her hand. I pulled it to my lips and gave it a kiss.

Fuck if it didn't make my dick throb. That woman could've touched me with nothing but her eyelashes, and I'd still have a raging hard-on worse than I got when most girls straddled me, feeling their pussies leaking all over my cock.

“It's not your fault. None of this is.” She kissed one cheek, and then the next, before centering her lips.

I took what was mine. We kissed long and hard and deep.

Didn't give a fuck about the dead assholes laying all around us. Didn't care about Zee screaming one last time as I heard them throw him into the back of Roman's truck like a sack of trash. Didn't even give a shit about Gil and Blackjack both eyeballing me, looking like they wanted to rip my head off for very different reasons.

Then Gil looked at his daughter, and the fucker's face tensed up. He started bawling like a baby. Whatever the fuck happened out here, it was bad, awful enough to break him.

“It's over now. You're coming home with me, babe, and it'll be awhile before you ever see the Pacific fucking Northwest again.”

Her old man bit his tongue when he heard me say that shit. He cried harder, his whole body quaking, dying from the shame of going completely broke. Good.

I motioned his way. “Come on. Let's help get him in the truck with his crew so he can get some proper attention.”

Gil didn't say shit as I grabbed his other arm and we helped him walk outside. He'd taken quite a fucking beating thanks to the Chinese. His sobs slowed as we led him out.

Fucker was red as a tomato, embarrassed, probably the reason he wasn't giving me any shit or whispering threats about the glorious hold I had on his daughter. He'd never give our love his stamp of approval, and I didn't fucking care.

Right now, he was too fucked up and traumatized to say a damned thing about it.

Line stood near the open door to the truck, just waiting. I finally got a good look at him as we hoisted him inside, me stepping back so Elle could fasten his seat belt.