Down & Dirty: Crow: Dirty Angels MC, book 10

by St. James, Jeanne

  But she’d never be able to live on her salary there.

  So yeah, her job was just temporary.

  “So nothin’s keepin’ you from leavin’,” he stated, rolling his stool back and standing.

  He offered his hand again and she took it. It was so much wider than hers and warm. His golden skin looked rich and beautiful next to her paleness. She used to worship the sun. Now she avoided it.

  He helped her to her feet and she tugged her jeans back into place. Before she could fasten them, his long fingers were there, doing it for her.

  She fought a shudder as the back of his fingers brushed along her skin.

  He wasn’t afraid to touch her, but she didn’t find that surprising. She expected most men who knew what happened to her would be scared to be too close. To be hands-on. Even for a hug.

  Not Crow. Never Crow. He was one who always had to touch. It was one way he communicated. Everyone who knew him was used to it. No one ever found it offensive because he was smooth about it. It just came natural. It was simply Crow’s way.

  A warmth spiraled through her and her nipples pebbled. As he tugged her shirt back down into place, she closed her eyes and swallowed.

  Holy shit, she felt alive. For once. He had no idea what he was doing to her. His simple, innocent touch.

  The best thing was, she didn’t recoil. She didn’t feel a need to escape. Panic didn’t rush in.

  No, instead of wanting him to stop, she wanted to feel those fingers trail over the rest of her body.

  “Kachina,” he whispered. “You okay?”

  Fuck yes, she was okay! She felt something she never thought she’d feel again.

  Pure desire. A need for touch. The craving for intimacy.

  To hold a man against her and let him touch her everywhere.

  She opened her eyes and met his. His dark eyes were narrowed on her, filled with concern and worry. His hands now by his side. “Sorry I—”

  “No. No, don’t you dare apologize. Don’t.”

  He lifted his palms. “I’ll do better.”

  “No. That’s you. It’s who you are. Don’t change who you are for me.”

  “I won’t. I’ll just be more careful.”

  “No. I’m not breakable. Don’t be scared to... be you. I’m already broken so there’s nothing left to break.” Her voice had caught on the last word and she cleared her throat quickly.

  “Jazz,” he murmured, his brows dropping low.

  “I accept your offer. I’ll do it. For as long as it takes to get this piece done. I... I won’t have any money, though, without a job. From experience, I know being a house mouse doesn’t pay shit,” she tried to joke, but his concerned expression didn’t change. “If you want, I’ll also keep things clean and organized here in the shop in exchange for the ink. Will that work?”

  “Maybe—”

  “No, too late. You’re not backing out now. It’s a deal, for however long it takes.” She stuck out her hand for him to shake it. He only stared at it, so she dropped it back to her side. “I’m just going to ask one thing...”

  He lifted his dark gaze from her hand, which was now pressed against her thigh, to her face.

  “I just need you to keep it to yourself that I’m in town. Please. I’ll visit with Grizz and Momma Bear. But everyone else. I need to do it on my own time.”

  “Ain’t gonna be able to hide it for very long, Kachina. Livin’ in a place that’s full of DAMC. Gonna notice there’s a female goin’ in an’ outta my house. Everybody’s gonna be all over that. Got a cage?”

  “Yeah. Out front.”

  He nodded. “Cage in my driveway’s gonna be a red flag, too.”

  “I can leave it here. Be your back warmer.”

  The blood rushed through her as she imagined herself clinging tightly to him as they headed out to his place on his sled. But he might not want her there. That spot was usually reserved for someone special.

  “Yeah,” he finally said. “How much shit you got?”

  “A small bag and...”

  He arched a brow when her words drifted off. “An’?”

  “My guitar.”

  * * *

  He took it slow through town and Jazz wanted to press her cheek against his cut as she breathed in the warm air. The only bike she’d ever been on in the past was her grandfather Grizz’s. And only after she’d begged him for a ride. Hawk would never take her out on his, no matter how many times she’d asked.

  The brothers didn’t like hauling women around unless they were getting something from them. Otherwise, they wanted the back of their sled empty.

  With her overstuffed overnight bag wedged between them and her guitar strapped across her back, she couldn’t get close enough to Crow to fully enjoy the ride. It was only a way to get from point A to point B.

  She was shocked when he didn’t slow down as he entered a huge walled compound with a massive iron gate. The gate had the DAMC logo forged into the center. He never slowed down because somehow the gate opened automatically as they approached and then closed behind them.

  She’d have to ask how. Maybe he had a remote of some sort.

  Why did they need something like Fort Knox? Was it because of the Warriors?

  “Grizz said that... that club... was almost extinct,” she yelled into the warm night.

  “Almost ain’t good enough,” he shot back over his shoulder.

  Jazz nodded. She had a feeling that her grandparents kept any goings-on with the Warriors from her the few times she spoke to them over the years.

  She didn’t want to know. On the other hand, she also needed to know.

  As soon as they pulled into a paved driveway in front of a house in a cul-de-sac, he remotely opened the garage and drove them inside. Shutting down his sled, he hit the button on a key fob again and the garage door shut behind them, effectively closing them in.

  She didn’t get a good look at the exterior of his house. She’d have to do so in the light of day.

  She quickly dismounted, and he followed, taking her bag from her, and heading to the left where a door separated the garage and the house.

  She followed him down a hallway, watching his back and shoulders move smoothly under his cut as he walked in front of her, instead of paying attention to the interior.

  They ended up in a kitchen, surprisingly larger than she expected, and he dumped her bag on the center island. After swinging her guitar off her back, she propped it against the end of the island.

  The kitchen was sparse, and she wondered if he’d only recently moved in.

  Her thoughts went back to why Crow was living in what looked like a middle-class neighborhood in a typical two-story house where someone with a family would live. She braced herself when she asked, “What else did they... Who else did they... hurt?”

  Crow dropped his gaze and turned away from her, heading to the fridge. He jerked it open, grabbed a bottle of Iron City beer and after ripping off the top, threw the cap onto the counter. It pinged as it bounced down the granite top and landed in a corner. A corner where, in most kitchens, small appliances were normally tucked. Crow had nothing but what looked like a top-of-the-line coffee maker and a shiny new toaster.

  But then, it shouldn’t be a surprise he didn’t have a blender or mixer. He wasn’t domestic. He was a tattoo artist and a biker. He didn’t bake pies or cookies. But she would bet that he at least had a grill outside.

  He tipped the beer to his lips and Jazz watched in fascination as his throat worked as he swallowed half the bottle in one shot.

  Shit. Was what he was about to tell her that bad? Maybe she needed a beer, too.

  “Got something stronger than that?” she asked, jerking her chin toward his beer.

  He pulled the bottle from his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Without a word, he opened a cabinet, grabbed a bottle of Jim Beam and placed it on the counter.

  “Got any pop?”

  He opened the fridge and pulled out a can of Peps
i before putting it on the counter next to the JB. Then he grabbed a glass from another cabinet and slapped that down with the rest. He waved a hand toward it and stepped back.

  She guessed she had to make her own. Stepping past him as he leaned back against the center island of the kitchen, she could feel the heat radiating from him. She wanted to pause, plant her palm on his chest and feel his heartbeat, too.

  But she didn’t. Instead, she went over and cracked open the pop, poured about an inch of cola into the glass, then glanced over her shoulder at him. “How much am I going to need for this?”

  He lifted a shoulder, his face grim. “Not enough booze in the world to wipe away the sins of that fuckin’ MC.”

  With a nod, she turned back, unscrewed the JB top and poured a good three fingers-worth into the glass, then topped it off with more cola. She jabbed her finger into the drink and swirled it around before pulling it out and sucking it clean. When she turned around with the drink in hand, Crow’s eyes had darkened, and he was staring at her mouth.

  Her lips parted, and a puff of breath escaped. Her nipples pebbled at how heated his look was.

  Then it was like he shook himself free and he dropped his gaze to his beer before lifting it back to his lips.

  Jazz took a sip of her drink and fought back the cough due to the strength of it. She wasn’t a big drinker, so she wasn’t used to the bite of whiskey, even mixed with the overly-sweet cola.

  They stood for a while in companionable silence until Jazz had downed half her drink and he finished his first beer. Warmth now swirled through her belly. Though, she wasn’t sure if it was the whiskey or Crow causing it.

  Or a combination of both.

  “Tell me everything they’ve done. After me and Kiki, that is.” She already lived that nightmare once, she didn’t need to live it again.

  “Sure you wanna hear it?” His voice was low and sounded troubled.

  “Yeah, I want to know why the club felt the need to build a,” she lifted a hand, “place like this. A gated compound with high concrete walls and an electric gate.”

  “Just a precaution.”

  Jazz shook her head. “No. Don’t bullshit me, Crow. You’re not like that.”

  He nodded, went back to the fridge and pulled out another beer, gulping down a few mouthfuls before saying, “Don’t even know where to begin...”

  “That bad?”

  “Ain’t good. After you... left...” He dragged his fingers through his long, loose black hair, pushing it to the back and away from his face. “Took Jewel.”

  Her hand went to her mouth to stifle her gasp. “Was she...”

  “No. Some fuckin’ bumps, bruises, but... no, luckily. After that, Diesel got shot.”

  “By who?”

  He hesitated, frowned, then watched her carefully when he said, “Black Jack.”

  Her eyes went wide. That bastard. He was the one... She inhaled deeply. “But he’s okay.” It wasn’t a question because she knew Diesel was alive and well.

  “Yeah, that fucker’s too stubborn to die.”

  Jazz would’ve laughed if what he was saying wasn’t so serious. And if Crow saying Black Jack’s name hadn’t twisted something inside her. Something ugly, just like that Warrior.

  “Then they stole all the Toys for Tots donations. Both ours an’ the SVPD’s. If that wasn’t enough, they shot up The Iron Horse during the club’s Christmas party.”

  “Holy shit,” she breathed. “Anyone hurt?”

  “Nothin’ serious. Did a lot of damage. Hawk ended up reinforcin’ the whole front of the bar, replacin’ the chain link fence that separates the front parkin’ lot to The Iron Horse, an’ the back of church to somethin’ more solid. A little more secure. Then after that...”

  Holy shit. There was more? Of course, there fucking was. The Warriors were the scourge of the MC world. They’d had a hard-on for the Angels for decades.

  “Slade was taken an’ beat to fuck. Thought we were gonna lose ‘im.”

  Jazz’s eyebrows knitted together. “Slade?”

  “Showed up after you were already gone. Now Diamond’s ol’ man. Solid. Trustworthy. Good addition to the DAMC.”

  Jazz nodded. Diamond now had an ol’ man. She kind of found that amusing, but Crow continued.

  “Then...”

  Jazz took another big swallow of her drink. “Fuck,” she muttered after swallowing it.

  “Yeah.” He sighed loudly. “Then Dex an’ Brooke.”

  “Who’s Brooke?”

  He tilted his head. “Pierce’s daughter.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. Was a bit of a surprise. Not just to everyone, but Pierce, too.”

  “That asshole still around?”

  “No.”

  “Chased him off? Or did he leave willingly?”

  “No.”

  Jazz nodded. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear those details. Not tonight, anyway. “So Dex and Brooke?”

  “Brooke is Dex’s ol’ lady. A couple Warriors, including their prez, busted into her house in Harrisburg in an attempt to take ‘em both out, an’...”

  “And?”

  Something moved across his face. Like he caught himself before saying too much. “An’ that’s it. They were lucky, until they weren’t. Warriors came back an’ burnt Brooke’s house to the ground, along with her business.”

  “Holy shit,” she murmured, tipping the glass and drinking the last of the JB and Pepsi.

  “Yeah. Ain’t done.”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear anymore. What he’d told her so far was more than enough reason for Zak to build this compound in an effort to keep everyone safe and protected.

  “Jayde...” he whispered.

  “No...” Jazz lifted her gaze from her glass. “Jayde isn’t DAMC.”

  “Fuck yeah she is. You know it’s in her blood. Like it’s in yours. But she’s also Linc’s ol’ lady.”

  For chrissakes, did she even want to ask? “What happened to Jayde?” She wanted to cry before she even heard the details.

  “Wrong place, wrong time.”

  That sounded too familiar.

  “Not taken by the Warriors, but by some other fucknuts. Ended up those assholes were related to a Warrior, though. The Warrior was gonna buy her from those fuckers but before that happened...”

  “What?” she whispered, waiting, her head spinning at the anticipation of what Crow was about to say.

  “Kicked the fuckin’ shit outta her. She lost...” Her eyes dropped to his throat when he swallowed hard enough to notice. “She was pregnant.”

  Jazz closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands as she tried to process his words. He didn’t have to say any more.

  “Guess you weren’t told any of this shit.”

  She and Jayde were almost the same age. She couldn’t imagine that devastating loss.

  “Probably for good fuckin’ reason,” he finished.

  She dropped her hands, but not before rubbing the tears out of her eyes so they wouldn’t fall. “What’s Z doing about it other than hiding everyone behind high walls?”

  “D’s handlin’ it all. Him an’ his crew.”

  “His crew,” she murmured. A flash of that crew, those men, skittered through her mind. Men she had never met before, leaning over her in that abandoned house. Men wearing savage expressions, talking in low furious tones, then getting orders barked at them from Diesel. She remembered only bits and pieces, and never saw them again. She wouldn’t recognize them even if she tried.

  She also hadn’t seen Diesel since that day. She heard he slipped into her hospital room once when she was knocked out on Valium and pain killers. And she faintly remembered others coming in and out of her room. But no one stayed long except for Kiki.

  She couldn’t forget Hawk’s woman sitting by her side, day after day, holding her hand, talking to her. But Jazz had been so stone cold and dead inside, she couldn’t even answer her or react. Or even thank her for being there. />
  She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.

  Hawk always hovered by the door like a sentry, watching both Kiki and her carefully. She couldn’t look at him. The eyes were the windows to the soul and Hawk’s eyes...

  What they held...

  It had been too much for Jazz to bear.

  She struggled with Kiki’s sorrow. So Jazz was glad when she was well enough, her parents whisked her back to Buffalo.

  She couldn’t stand to see the pity, the sadness in everyone’s eyes anymore. She needed to go somewhere where no one knew what happened to her.

  She studied the man before her.

  He knew.

  She had no idea if Crow visited her while she was in that hospital bed. If he had, no one mentioned it.

  She mentally shook herself back to the present. She picked up her glass and regretfully realized she had emptied it.

  Crow pushed off the counter and took the glass from her fingers, placing it back on the counter behind her.

  His arm brushed hers and she shivered. She automatically reached out and he grabbed her hand, pulled it to his chest and his other cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over her skin.

  She shuddered, and he immediately let her go, stepping back. He mistook her reaction. She needed to clear that up with him, but not yet. She needed to know a little more first.

  “So, how big is this compound?”

  “About a hundred acres. Plus, Keeks is in negotiation for the woods behind here. Another hundred.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah. Z wanted to make sure there was room to grow.”

  “There’s only a couple houses in your cul-de-sac.” That was one thing she had noticed. All the empty lots.

  “For now. The other one is Slade an’ Diamond’s. There’s still a bunch of open lots throughout the compound, but other streets off the main one are fillin’ up.”

  “Biker suburbia,” she murmured.

  “Yeah, no shit. D an’ Z both have houses toward the front of the neighborhood. D wants his Shadows to move in if they’re interested. Keep the compound more secure.”

  “Will they?”

  Crow shrugged. “Dunno. They try to stay out of club business for the most part. Keep that separation. D’s tryin’ his best to keep the club clean. An’ it doesn’t help Axel lives here also.”