Katrin was nervous enough to throw up as she stared down the aisle. Some part of her, disconnected from her rational mind, was excited. Excited to see Pistol again. Excited because this was her wedding, whatever the bizarre circumstances, and so many little girls dreamed about their wedding day. Katrin had been one of those girls, once upon a time.
Her father was suddenly beside her, linking his arm with hers. She felt that increasingly familiar wave of sickness. She didn’t want him anywhere near her. But the organ music blared, and she walked side by side with him down the aisle, her heart pounding. She tried to focus straight ahead, but she kept sneaking glances at her audience. She didn’t know any of these people. There were bikers on one side, and her father’s … associates on the other. No one was here forher. No friends. No family. Her throat tightened. This wedding was a sham. It was a … a kidnapping of sorts. And she was too weak to escape it.
She stepped up onto the altar and her breath caught. Pistol looked…
Handsome.
His suit didn’t fit very well, his shirt could use an ironing, but he was still possibly the hottest guy she’d ever seen in person. But his expression… He looked horrified to see her. Which didn’t bode well.
She blinked back tears as her father let go of her arm and stepped away. She tried not to look Pistol in the eye. Wished she’d insisted on a veil, so that her face could be at least partially hidden during this travesty.
Just get this over with, she willed the priest.
She tried to listen to what the priest was saying, but she couldn’t focus on anything except the heat that was prickling across her skin. Being this close to Pistol, even in these awful circumstances, was doing something to her. She could feel him staring, and she blushed furiously, aware of how the bodice of the gown pushed her breasts up so they rose just slightly above the scalloped neckline. Aware that the dress cinched her waist and hugged her ass.
All right, Pistol, look your fill. Because if you think I’m sharing a wedding bed with you tonight, you’re wrong.
Cold fear gripped her gut for the umpteenth time. It wasn’t like she could stop him.
The priest droned on and on. Held the rings out in a small velvet box. Pistol fumbled picking up the ring. But when he touched her hand to put the ring on, clumsy as the gesture was, a jolt went through her. She met his eye for just a second, and he gave her a wan smile.
My God. He looks as terrified as I feel.
Was it possible that Pistol wasn’t one of her father’s associates? That he had been forced into this just like she had?
When it came time for her to put the ring on his finger, her own hands were steady. Inside, she was falling apart, but she was determined to stay strong on the outside.
Pistol’s hand was large, callused, and warm. She slid the gold band onto his ring finger and stared at it for a second. It caught the light so beautifully. Made her ache with longing for a life that had never gotten a chance to come to pass — a life where her wedding day was joyous, where the thought of living with her husband for the rest of her life made her feel safe, happy, proud.
She flushed further as she realized she was still holding Pistol’s hand. She let it go like it was burning her and listened to the priest finish up.
“Do you, Jax, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love, honor, and cherish her as long as you both shall live?”
Katrin almost snorted. Did this guy even know he was officiating an abduction?
Pistol swallowed visibly. “I do.”
The priest turned to her. “And do you, Katrin, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love, honor, and cherish him, as long as you both shall live?”
This was her chance to be her mother’s daughter. To refuse to say I do. To turn and bolt. To denounce her father here, in this house of God.
But then that little spark of hope was back, the voice that said maybe her father was doing this for her own good. Maybe this was part of some larger plan.
The silence was growing all around her. Everyone was waiting.
She took a deep breath. “I do.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Pistol looked slightly green.
Katrin flinched as the words she’d been dreading arrived. “You may kiss the bride.”
###
Well damn. Seriously damn.
Those were the only thoughts that had been running through Pistol’s head as Katrin had approached the altar.
Once Pistol had been able to pick his jaw off the floor, he’d realized that his brain was never gonna work right again. The only thing fully functional right now was his dick, which was changing the fit of his suit even more.
Katrin was hot as hell.
That dress was … Pistol didn’t know jack shit about dresses, he just knew this one was hugging everything exactly the right way. And her face … subtle makeup accenting those wide hazel eyes. She didn’t even need lipstick or anything — those lips were plump and pink, and unless he was mistaken, the blush in her cheeks was natural.
He had a feeling he was blushing too. How was it possible he was marrying a woman this gorgeous?
He barely heard a thing the priest said. Made a damn fool of himself trying to get the ring on Katrin’s slender finger. Had nearly come in his pants when she’d slipped the ring on his. God, this was not the time to be thinking about…
Except he couldn’t stop thinking about it. And this was embarrassing, because neither of them had consented to this, and because he ought to be furious, ought to be thinking of ways to cut Leonard Smith’s limbs off and feed them to him — and instead he was…
Speechless.
He was still speechless a few minutes later when it came time to say I do. But somehow he swallowed and made himself say it.
Katrin looked right at him when she said the words. She looked afraid, but strong. So fucking strong. And in that moment, he realized he was getting way more than he bargained for. Not just the marriage and the baby, but … her.
This woman who had layers. This woman he didn’t know, didn’t understand, but who made him feel like maybe, just maybe, they’d get through this together.
Then the priest said, “You may kiss the bride.”
And Pistol froze.
Could he?
He had to, didn’t he? Or the jig was up. Leonard would surely have something to say about it if Pistol refused the kiss. Pistol was still standing there wondering how the hell he could do this to Katrin if she was an unwilling participant, when she leaned forward and tilted her chin up, that same blazing strength in her gaze.
And before he knew it, she was kissing him. And he was kissing her back. And the surge of desire he felt was probably inappropriate as fuck for this wedding, for any wedding, but he couldn’t help it. Her mouth was hot and wet, the kiss fierce but oddly chaste. He didn’t want it to end, and yet it was over so quickly.
There was a smattering of applause. A whoop from Ford that made Pistol want to smack him upside the head. Pistol and Katrin pulled back, both of them breathing hard. Her lips were parted slightly, and she looked sort of shell-shocked. Pistol ran a hand quickly over his scalp. He gazed at her dark hair, elaborately pinned up, and wished he could take it down, run his hands through it
She was his wife. She was his wife, and he had no idea if he was allowed to touch her. If he’d ever be allowed.
After what seemed like forever, they left the altar. Katrin walked quickly in front of him, not speaking to him, and disappeared into some side room. He didn’t try to follow her.
He had no idea what to do now. Where to go, what to say to Katrin, whether or not he could get away with going to the clubhouse to smoke and drink and plot revenge against Leonard.
Was there any way he could make the best of this? Find a silver lining? His club’s funds were gonna triple, and he had a gorgeous wife. Things could be worse.
Before he could do anything, Leonard Smith approached. Pistol tensed.
“Mr. Wilson,” Leonard said in that same, smooth polite tone he’d used the night in the desert.
The night he’d shot Mica. Beaten Deion. Ruined Pistol’s fucking life.
Pistol didn’t answer.
Leonard held up a set of keys. “These are to your new home.”
“What?” This shit just kept getting more and moreTwilight Zone.
“Your new house. It’s on the edge of town. 5621 Blessing Way. A very nice, comfortable place. I think you and Katrin will be quite happy there.”
“I already have a home.”
“Yes, but you’re married now, Jax. Surely you don’t intend to live in your little clubhouse while your wife lives with her father?”
That had kinda been the idea, yes.
“Just remember, Jax. This can be very easy, if you cooperate. And I can make your life very, very difficult, and very painful, if you don’t.”
Pistol snatched the keys from him. “Did you get me a car too?”
Leonard grinned. “Don’t be silly. You have your bike.” He waved a hand. “I’ll drop Katrin off in about an hour. I have a few words for her before she embarks on this new life.”
“I’m sure she can’t wait to hear them,” Pistol said savagely. He turned and started to walk away.”
“Jax?”
Pistol turned.
“Treat her right.”
The irony of that was almost too much to handle.
Jax went outside. Deion was waiting for him. “Jesus dude.” Deion clapped him on the shoulder. “I can’t believe that really happened.”
Pistol looked at the keys in his hand.
“What’re those?” Deion asked.
“Keys.”
“No shit.”
“To my new house.”
Deion stared at him. “That creep bought you a house?”
“Yeah. Shit this is … this is too weird for words.”
“Where’s Katrin?”
Pistol shook his head rapidly, his panic and anger rising. “Who the fuck knows? Her dad wants to have a few last words with her, then he’s dropping her off at the house. Our house. Fuck, I can’t do this. I really can’t.”
“You gotta.” Deion slapped him on the back. “You’re still my brother, man. No matter what.”
Pistol nodded. “You too,” he muttered.
“Take this. You’ll need it.” Deion handed him the whiskey bottle.
Pistol glanced at him. “That’s my wedding present, huh.”
“Damn straight. Enjoy.”
“Coulda got me a new bike. Or a new gun. How about that?”
“I think you’re gonna need booze more.” Deion’s cheek had the last yellowish traces of bruising on it. Pistol looked sadly at his friend. This really did feel like being forcibly separated from his family and forced into some strange new life. “Take care,” he said quietly.
“I got your back. You know I do.”
“Yeah.” He knew it.
“We’ll find you a way out of this.” Deion grinned. “Unless you take to married life.”
“Hell no!”
Deion’s grin widened. “Pistol Wilson. Biggest player in Rialto. A married man.”
“Shut up.” Pistol tried not to grin as he brushed past his friend and headed for his bike.