Page 43 of Never Wed an Outlaw

Tears sparkled in her eyes. Guilt tugged at my chest, hating how I strong armed her into spilling it like this.

Maybe she had the same syndrome I'd seen bring down too many others. Workaholism, one more sick fuckin' ism I'd love to see wiped from God's green Earth.

“Forget it, Hannah. I'll check in with you soon. We don't have to stay attached at the hip, for fuck's sake. If you can make it, fine. If not...well, I ain't busting your ass over it.”

Might even ease any unexpected bullshit with Firefly if she doesn't show up,I thought, keeping that part to myself. My big Enforcer hadn't said much since he'd voted to save my gavel. We shared an icy peace, knowing it could go up in flames anytime. He hadn't accepted anything between his sis and me.

“I'm heading out,” I told her, lifting my mug to knock down the rest of my coffee. “Too much work today, or I'd stay longer. Try to take a few breaks so your fingers don't fall off.”

She smiled, tense and uneasy, nodding. I put my mug down and got halfway to the door before I heard her feet pounding the floor after me.

Hannah crashed into me from behind. I turned around, a thousand questions running through my mind, second guessing my own damned second guessing about what the hell was going on here.

Didn't want to upset her more. I helped her up, smoothing her hands over my leather cut, and kissed away the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Please don't read anything into this, Dusty. I'm really,reallyclose to a breakthrough with my work, and once it happens, I'll have all the time in the world for the things I want to be a part of.” She grabbed my hand, pressed it against her cheek, stamping her lips on the back. “I'll be there if I can, I promise.”

“I'm serious about keeping those fingers intact, darlin'. Plus every other beautiful part of you. You can work yourself to death, and the world won't wait. It just goes on with people livin' and dyin', popping out kids right and left, weddings and funerals all over the damned place.”

“Jesus, don't you think Iknow?” She let go. More hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

Shit.I hadn't meant to set her off.

I grabbed her, held on for awhile, calmly stroking her hair, savoring this touch like it might be the last, even though I was certain it wouldn't be.

“Do what you need to, Hannah. No judgment. Love you anyway, whether you're there or not.”

Double shit.I just let a loose grenade tumble out my mouth.

She looked at me, wide eyed and scared, when we both realized the crazy fuckin' L-word that fell out.

“Gotta go.” I cut it short, doubling my speed out the door, taking the shortcut across her lawn with a quickness I only used in a gun fight.

I kept it together 'til I hit the road, riding home, and letting the screen door bang shut behind me. Then I sat down in the worn leather armchair, cupping my face inboth hands, giving myself a second before I went for the bottle of Jack I had waiting under the counter.

You're coming undone, you stupid bastard. All over pussy, too.

I looked up, imagining my old man standing in the corner. Early shook his head, his big beard gnarled, a nasty sneer on his face. Kind he always wore before he cut me down over nothing, or told ma she was just imagining the other women.

“Fuck off!” I spat. “Ain't in the mood.”

Whether I said it to him or myself, assuming they weren't one and the same, who knew.

Things were changing.

And that was a goddamned understatement. A couple more days, I'd watch two more of my boys tie the knot, happier than they ever thought they'd be a year ago back when the club was on its back.

Had to get a grip.Had to.

Hell, if I kept letting Hannah make me hallucinate the asshole I called dad, I'd take Joker's spot as the resident psycho wearing our patch. I stood up, staring angrily into the empty corner of my living room where I'd seen him a few seconds ago.

“Thanks for nothing, deadbeat asshole,” I growled. “If you hadn't spent thirty years shittin' on me, maybe I'd know how to handle this girl. Maybe I'd throw my club together again, easy as pie, and get the brothers' knives away from their own throats. Maybe I'd have a wife and kid of my own, and I'd treat 'em right, better than you ever fuckin' treated me and mom.”

I stopped. Talking to a dead man wasn't doing me any favors. Rambling to my own demons wouldn't do anybody a lick of good.

Only way to set this right was to get through this wedding, whether Hannah showed herself or not, and then find out what was really eating her.

If it was just work, I'd deal. And if it was something else...well, shit, I'd deal with that, too.

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