Page 12 of Never Wed an Outlaw

Fierce storms tore up the Tennessee skies yesterday, and more were coming tonight. I didn't want to take a chance on my connecting flight getting delayed. I had to get home.

First opportunity, I'd be getting hammered to forget Dom and the mammoth amount of life-or-death coding work he'd dropped in my lap. Too bad a girl can't drink and drive several hundred miles.

“You're coming back already? What the fuck happened?” Firefly growled into the receiver.

“Nothing, nothing! Ty has kids, and our meeting got cut short. You're about to find out what that's all about.” Ismiled, trying to focus on knowing I'd be an aunt soon, once Cora's baby came. “I'm flying into Atlanta tonight. I don't want to deal with the drive in the dark, so I'm wondering if there are any club assets in Georgia?”

“Not many since shit went down there last time. Just Dust.”

Dust.My heart nearly exploded behind my ribs.

Dust, with his strong, quiet, teasing ways.

Dust, with his hands and mouth that set me on fire. I always had a strange fascination with scary body art thanks to Firefly, and the tapestry painted on Dusty's skin made my brother's look like a child's painting.

Dusty, the man I never should've kissed, much less thrown another hook to, who'd known me when I was just Firefly's scrawny little sis. Now, he treated me like a woman, and I ate it up.

Beautiful, dangerous, bossy Dusty.

“You're sure there aren't any prospects?” I asked softly. About a hundred butterflies took flight in my belly, imaging all the things that could happen if I took a ride home with Dust tonight. Alone.

“No. Prez is the only option, take him or leave him. I can't come down and get you with everything going on up here, unless you're in a bind.”

“Nah, it's fine. Thanks, Huck. I'll see you soon for the baby shower.”

Perfect timing. The agent at the gate to my flight announced the start of boarding, and I had about five more minutes to decide if I wanted to give Dust a call before I got on.

I wanted my ride. Hell, maybe part of me wanted to ride him, but I'd never live it down if I did.

And if I broke down in front of him, remembering my mess with Dom, the double life I'd been leading for the past year as a hostage to the animal I should've been smart enough to avoid...

The club would have open war.

God, I wanted to see him again. Forgetting the mobster's blood chilling threats sounded pretty good just then, too. I needed a distraction.

If there was any man who could make me forget my secret woes, it was the big, gorgeous bastard whose number was staring me in the face on my contacts.

“Attention, attention, attention! We're now boarding rows 17-D,” the agent blared into the microphone.

Decision time. I clenched my teeth, letting out the biggest sigh in the world when I pressed the call button, and watched with my stomach twisted in a knot, while my phone connected to Dust.

4

Past and Present (Dust)

Several Minutes Earlier

Isat on my bike, watching the sun slip down across the horizon. Several thousand men were buried here beneath the tombstones, long lost boys who'd died in every damned war this country ever had since 1830.

Conflict ran deep in my veins on both sides. My great great granddaddy fought for Dixie in a cavalry regiment on my old man's side. Ma's side had my great great uncle, an artillery Major for the North, who'd crawled through hell when East Tennessee became ground zero for all the blood soaked brother-on-brother savagery defining the war.

History buff? Maybe I was, but I'd punch anybody in the face if they ever called me a nerd.

I thought about my family a lot, bloodlines steeped in the country's wickedest turmoil, trickling down across generations. The Deadly Pistols name wouldn't exist for this club if it wasn't for my old man's gun, passed down to me since it did its time killing men on these battlefields more than a hundred and fifty years ago.

The gun was locked up at the clubhouse, stuffed in a wooden box I rarely opened for anybody. Seeing her, touching her, that was just for me.

Every brother wore her symbols all over, inked deep in our skin. I had a whole arsenal scrawled across my back, my chest, smoke curling out of the steel barrels on my arms. Saw them every morning I woke up, every time I shed my clothes, every time I got between some girl's legs and fucked her 'til she screamed my name.

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