Misled by Kathryn Kelly, Crystal Cuffley Read Free Book Online

tree. He squinted, angled his head first one way and then the other. That didn’t look like just a discarded jacket.
    “Fuck,” he said, releasing the smoke from his lungs and throwing the butt aside.
    When he reached it, he saw that, yeah, in-fucking-deed, the figure was real. He couldn’t see her face, but he saw the small foot and delicate arch identifying her as female. This bitch had to be whacked out of her fucking mind to be out here without shoes. He should leave her the fuck here. If a bitch wanted to freeze the fuck to death, who the fuck was he to stop her?
    He grunt ed at the thought, his conscience pricking him. He had a mother, sisters, and nieces. He’d want a fucker to help one of them.
    “Fuck.”
    With another curse, he brushed aside the jacket and revealed a head of golden blonde hair. Long and thick, it covered her face. He turned the bundle over.
    “Fuckin’ motherfucker.”
    Her eyes were blackened and her lip and nose bloody but he recognized Boss’s daughter. Someone had worked her over. He really, really, really didn’t need this shit. He should leave her right the fuck here and let her go and join her fucking father in the afterworld.
    Outlaw felt the pulse at her throat. Weak and reedy, but there. He hated to look at her, hated to see Joe Foy in her gorgeous features. Whereas the male members of her family were big and masculine—but even Outlaw had to admit handsome fucks—this girl was little. She reminded him of how much her father had betrayed Outlaw—the entire club. He’d looked up to Boss and loved him like a father. Only to be stabbed in the back and have to face the decision of choosing his own life over Boss’s.
    He hated that fucker. Would never, ever fucking forgive him.
    Outlaw stood, spat near her head. His conscience had deserted him when he’d made his first kill, determined to move from Probate to a fully patched in member. He’d been a kid, but responsible for looking after a houseful of females. He’d appreciated the brotherhood, the loyalty, a place where he could find his own species—men. His uncle and cousin had been around, yeah, but in his immediate household, he’d been surrounded by girls. A mother and five sisters. And, later, as his sisters fucked with dickhead after dickhead after dickhead, a mother, five sisters, and three nieces. Fuck him, but his family couldn’t seem to produce dicks to save their fucking lives.
    Boss and Rack had accepted him for him. They hadn’t blamed him for all the woes in his mother’s life. He’d been able to forget the pitiful circumstances of his conception. They’d let him do that when no one else would.
    Now, gazing at this battered girl, h e wanted to walk the fuck away, but he couldn’t fucking do it. Away from the male-infused atmosphere of the clubhouse, Outlaw could hear his mother’s voice, see her beloved features. She’d want him to help this girl. She’d raised him to help. She was good and kind and loving, and if he could do shit over again, he’d do so much fucking different. He’d wouldn’t have fucked a swath through a battalion of women. He wouldn’t have lied.
    He wouldn’t have killed.
    But he’d found Boss and his brothers and gotten the acceptance and male influence he so craved. At the clubhouse, he could belch, fart, fuck, pick his nose, curse at the top of his lungs, and do whatever shit he felt like without having to worry about female sensibilities.
    Crouching down, he scooped her into his arms. She weighed next to nothing. A strong wind would knock her the fuck over. She pulled in a deep breath, half gasp, half sob.
    He could always take her to town, put her up in a motel, keep her pockets flush until she figured out what to do. That was the sensible thing to do. Motherfuckers were gunning for him, meaning he didn’t need the distraction of a virginal pussy. Because, fuck him, he’d done a lot of shit, but as far as he knew he’d never fucked a virgin or such a young bitch.