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

by St. James, Jeanne

  “For good reason,” Crow muttered.

  “Yeah, yeah. So, do you want me to make breakfast or are you going to handle it?” she asked Jazz.

  “I got it, especially since it’s my first day on my new ‘job.’ I don’t want my boss to think I’m slacking.”

  She heard another snort from Crow’s direction. He was now digging in the fridge.

  Diamond nodded. “Cool. I’ll head home... but not before I grab a cup of coffee. I never turn down his coffee. It’s the best. The guys at church went into a deep depression after he moved out and he no longer brewed it.”

  She moved past Crow, snagged a large travel mug that had been sitting on the counter, and filled it with the fresh brew that smelled so good.

  “Ain’t supposed to be drinkin’ coffee, baby doll.”

  Diamond snapped the lid onto the plastic mug. “The doctor said I could drink a cup a day.” He gave her a look and Di raised her palm. “I checked with the doctor, Crow. It’s fine.” She approached him, cupped his check and leaned in.

  At first Jazz thought she was going to kiss his cheek, but then realized she was saying something quietly into his ear. The same thing that tugged at her when she saw Diamond in his arms earlier with his hands on her belly, pulled at her again as she witnessed how close the two of them were.

  She never realized they were like that. Diamond never was at any of the pig roasts at church that Jazz had attended. Not that she had gone to a lot of them. Neither Hawk or Grizz would let her drink while she was underage, so Jazz didn’t bother to go, either. Instead, she hung out with the couple friends she’d made in college and she could get away with partying freely without the club’s VP or even her grandparents stepping in.

  When Diamond pulled back and patted his shoulder, Crow’s eyes shifted to Jazz. They were darker than normal, and something in them made her want to shiver.

  “Remember, I’m next door if you need anything... Cup of sugar... To talk. Whatever.”

  Jazz nodded silently as Diamond left the kitchen, looking like she was fighting a grin.

  When she was gone, Jazz turned her attention back to Crow, who was still eyeballing her. Then it looked like he mentally shook himself free and went back to making breakfast.

  That was her job. She unfroze herself as well, her blood rushing through her veins, and moved over to the counter where he was working. “Let me,” she said, her voice huskier than she expected it to be as she pushed his hand off the bowl he was holding and plucked the egg he was about to crack from his fingers.

  “Go. I’ll do it. Do whatever you normally do at this time in the morning.”

  “Normally sleepin’, baby. Work late. Sleep late.”

  He didn’t move away, and his heat seared her, especially from his bare torso. She was wearing an old, worn, loose Harley tank top and a pair of cotton shorts that she normally slept in. She wanted him to hold her the same way he did Diamond. She wanted him wrapped around her back and holding her close, murmuring his honey-smooth voice into her ear.

  Her nipples pebbled under her top at the imagery.

  “I can do it this morning, Kachina.” It was his turn to push her out of the way, but his arm brushed against her painfully peaked nipple. She sucked in a sharp breath and froze.

  He quickly stepped back, his face pale. “Sorry!” He ripped a hand through his long hair. “Sorry! Fuck!”

  “I... you... it didn’t...” How did she tell him he didn’t need to be sorry? She wanted more. But the fear of asking that from him kept her silent.

  Why would he want to be with someone who had been violated like she had? Why would he want to be with someone who was so much younger than him? He had women drooling over him daily. He could have anyone in his bed. And probably did.

  Why would he want someone in his bed who might not respond like she should? She worried about that.

  She worried about how she would react the first time with a man...

  “Sorry, baby,” he murmured one more time, planting his hands on the edge of the counter and staring down at it. “Fuck,” came out on a breath.

  “It didn’t bother me. It didn’t cause any kind of reaction—” Oh fuck yes, it did. “Bad reaction,” she corrected, then whispered, “Please don’t be afraid to touch me.”

  “Thought maybe...”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m broken but not completely shattered.” She turned to face him head-on. She sucked in a breath to bolster herself. “And I trust you.” Something flared in his almost-black eyes, but before he could respond, she continued, “I don’t want that day to define me anymore. I’m ready to move on. I can’t be afraid of someone... Of that happening again. I can’t live like that anymore. Because if I do, then those fuckers won. I want to eventually find someone to...” She drifted off. Still unsure on how to approach this with him.

  How to ask for his help without him instantly shutting her down.

  He began to pull eggs from the open carton, cracking them into the bowl. “Just gotta remember how it was for you before that time, Kachina.”

  Did he mean life in general or sex? Because if it was sex... “There’s nothing to remember.”

  “None of ‘em left an impression?”

  Oh yeah, he was definitely talking about sex. “Crow... there was nobody to remember.”

  His hand stilled as he reached for another egg. He twisted his head to look at her, his dark brows pinned together. “And not since?”

  She shook her head.

  “Nobody before? Nobody after?”

  She shook her head again.

  “Those fuckers took...” A thunderous look crossed his face. “How is it possible they took your virginity? You were in fuckin’ college.”

  She stepped back as she felt the blood leave her face. “You act like I was some patch whore.”

  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer. “No. Fuck no. Know better than that. Didn’t think it was possible these days. Fuckin’ kids startin’ younger an’ younger.”

  She closed her eyes and said softly, “I was holding out.”

  “For what?”

  “For someone in particular,” she admitted.

  “Yeah? Who?”

  Should she admit the truth to him now? She opened her eyes and met his gaze directly. “Someone who looked at me like I was a kid.”

  “You were a kid to all of us. We all thought that.”

  “I know. But I didn’t want anyone else and I didn’t want to give it up to just anyone, just to give it up. I wanted it to be... special.”

  “First time usually ain’t that special.” Crow’s head jerked back and he groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Fuck. Sorry.”

  “Yeah, I can honestly say that was true for me. It wasn’t special but it was certainly memorable.”

  “Don’t think ‘bout it.”

  “It’s all I think about some days.”

  “So, while you’re back, you gonna finally take a shot at the man who thought you were a kid?”

  That was all she could think about all night long. “Yeah.”

  “Lucky fucker.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Not sure how it’s all going to go.”

  “Why? He with someone else now?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then what?”

  “Not sure if I can... I’m not sure I can get over... what happened. Or he can, either.”

  “Man’s gotta just be patient, gotta take his time. If he’s worth it, he’ll do that for you. Make you see how it should be.”

  “I hope so.”

  Crow tilted his head as he studied her. “If he’s DAMC... not many single ones left.”

  No, it didn’t sound like there was, but the one she was thinking of was standing right in front of her, still holding her wrist. His thumb was rubbing back and forth over her pulse point and she wondered if he even realized it. Goosebumps broke out all over her body, and peaked her nipples even harder.

  He’d noticed. His eyes dropped
for barely a second before he raised them again. “Can’t come back to disrupt the relationship of someone who’s taken, Kachina. Can’t fuck up their happiness.”

  “Didn’t plan on it.”

  He nodded. “Good.” He released her wrist and went back to cracking the last egg. He pulled a fork out of the drawer at his hips and began to whip the eggs, adding a little milk to them.

  Staring intently at the bowl, he asked, “So, who is it?”

  Her heart began to thump in her chest once again. She didn’t know if it was fear or anticipation. Or anxiety at the thought of revealing her secret.

  She opened her mouth and he stopped what he was doing to stare at her parted lips. She nervously swept her tongue over her lower one and he watched that, too.

  It was almost like a stand-off. Him waiting for her to spill the name and her waiting for him to figure it out on his own.

  She didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until her chest heaved as she sucked in the much-needed oxygen her lungs were screaming for.

  Something in his face changed and he broke their locked gaze, turning his attention back to the scrambled eggs he was making. “Don’t gotta tell me,” he murmured, then moved away, grabbing a frying pan from a cabinet and placing it on the stove. After a click, the gas burner lit and he placed the pan on it to heat up.

  Her gaze landed on a loaf of bread Diamond must have put on the counter, then on the one small appliance he had besides the coffee maker. The toaster. She could at least do that part while he cooked the eggs.

  “Toast?” she asked.

  “Fuck yeah,” he muttered.

  The way he said that made her wonder if he was answering the question she meant. Or something else.

  Diamond set her eyes on him an’ he had no choice but to pay attention. He was fuckin’ toast.

  Jazz stared at his bare back and his jeans hanging off his lean hips as he moved the rubber spatula around the pan, his long black hair loose over his shoulders, his head tipped down.

  She grabbed the bread and made toast.

  * * *

  Jazz ground her teeth and panted hard. She was doing her best not to squirm. Not cry out. Not cry in general. She had been biting her bottom lip so hard, she’d tasted blood.

  She didn’t think her first time would be this bad. But it was worse than she expected.

  He had warned her.

  And every once in a while, Crow would look up, ask her if she was okay and then continue on with his torture.

  She had ridden on the back of his sled when they had come to the shop earlier than his normal hours. His day was booked solid and he wanted to get started on the outline before his first customer rolled in.

  But him even drawing a simple black outline was like a hot scalpel slicing through her skin. She knew now why he wanted to break the tattoo down into short sittings and why it would take so long to finish the whole piece.

  She had a tennis ball gripped in one hand and was squeezing the shit out of it. She was afraid it would either pop or be fused to her fingers before he was finished with this first session.

  Fuck, how many more of these sittings would she be able to take?

  All of them. She needed to suck it up, put the unbearable agony out of her mind and let Crow do what he did best.

  No doubt, he was the best. Probably in the whole state. He was a man who took pride in his work. He was meticulous and charged appropriately for his skills.

  She had lost her breath this morning in amazement, and actually had to fight back tears, when he showed her what he’d spent hours designing the day before. After he made breakfast yesterday, he had gone into the shop early to begin to draw something up. She had stayed behind locked in his house, the alarm set as she plugged earbuds into her cell phone and cranked up an eclectic mix of music as she cleaned his house from top to bottom.

  He wasn’t a messy or unorganized person, but the house, much bigger than she first thought, was definitely due for a thorough cleaning. He didn’t have a lot of furniture or decorations to dust, but what he did have consisted of a few Native American pieces or motorcycle type knickknacks.

  She had spent some time studying the few photos he had hanging on his walls. Most of them were of his time growing up on a Lakota reservation in one of the Dakota states. She couldn’t remember which one. She just remembered him talking about growing up in his tribe when she had “interviewed” him for one of her college papers.

  That assignment for speech class had been a good excuse for her to spend hours with him. Those hours were boiled down to ten minutes talking about her favorite subject, Crow, in front of her classmates.

  He was a simple man on the outside, but down deep, he was complex and fascinating with a wisdom beyond his years. She was pretty sure all the females in her class wanted to meet him when she was done speaking. She had actually stopped reading off her index cards and just began talking, letting the words simply flow from her naturally. When she finally realized she should stop, that her time was up, and she glanced over the class, all of the women’s mouths were gaped open.

  Including the professor, who was a gay man, and actually asked about Crow after class.

  But right now, she couldn’t appreciate the man bent over her, his brow furrowed as he worked. The front door to the shop was still locked, the “closed” sign still hanging in the window, since she had her shirt pulled up and tucked under her bra. The yoga pants she wore for comfort—since she’d be freshly tattooed—were yanked down to the widest part of her hips.

  But the intense pain didn’t let her appreciate his warm breath sweeping over her skin, or the fact that his face was so close to a place where she wanted it to be buried.

  His silky black hair was back in its restrictive braid as he worked intently on inking the beautiful design into her skin.

  He had to have spent hours and hours on it. The sketch he had done was nothing other than an artist’s masterpiece.

  She had heard Jag was a good artist and had seen his amazingly detailed drawings on the M. Jagger Jamison website that Ivy ran, but nothing... nothing could compare to what Crow created for her. She only hoped what remained of the scar tissue would hold the ink.

  Even more, she hoped that the letters “SWMC” would be no longer visible when he was done.

  It was time to move on. She needed to get past this last hurdle.

  Two really. The permanent reminder on her lower belly and having Crow assist her in getting past her intimacy issues. She didn’t know if there would even be issues since she hadn’t tried with anyone else. She had no desire to explain to a man what had happened to her and why she may be reacting as she was.

  She knew Crow would be gentle. Understanding. Careful. Quiet about it all. And very patient.

  It also helped that she wanted no one else and hadn’t since the day he walked into Hawk’s house.

  Today proved that he understood her, what she needed when it came to this tattoo. It wasn’t just to cover up the evidence left behind of what happened to her and Kiki in that abandoned house that day.

  No. He had drawn something, not only colorful and feminine, but a piece that represented change and new beginnings.

  When finished, the center of the tattoo would include a stunning realistic Monarch butterfly with spread wings surrounded by rich purple tulips that he said meant rebirth. Peppered in would be some Jasmine blooms. Tucked in the midst of the flowers, which almost reminded her of a bouquet, would be flaming feathers made from different shades of red, orange and yellow.

  The feathers of a Phoenix.

  Jazz already knew what the Phoenix represented.

  Somehow he made all the different elements blend seamlessly. What could have ended up a complete mess by another ink slinger, ended up being perfectly done by Crow.

  However, like it or not, now she had to grin and bear the pain.

  After she heard him come home late last night, she had considered heading downstairs and inviting him back up into h
is own bed. She sat on the edge of his mattress for over an hour trying to convince herself to take those steps.

  Instead, she ended up curling up in his bed by herself, tucking her head on the pillow where his head normally laid, and burrowing into sheets that smelled of Crow.

  As she laid there in the dark, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, she was torn. She didn’t belong back in Shadow Valley, but again she did. She didn’t deserve to be in Crow’s bed with the intentions that she had, but it also made her feel like she’d come home.

  If he knew her plans, he might have insisted that she stay with someone else.

  “Kachina,” his smooth, honey-like voice swept into the recesses of her mind, pulling her out of her pain-induced haze. She’d had her eyes squeezed shut during the last part and hadn’t even realized it.

  He had put his tattoo machine down on the tray and taped plastic over the fresh ink. She wasn’t sure when he had finished, since she had been so caught up in her thoughts. It was one way of dealing with the pain... by shutting down.

  It reminded her of another time she had to do something similar. To block out what was happening. She had turned into herself, avoiding the harsh reality of what those two animals were doing to her.

  She had to block out the sounds, the harsh laughter, the rough actions...

  A shiver went through her.

  “Baby,” he murmured, brushing his now gloveless fingers down her cheek. “You okay?”

  She shook herself mentally. “Sorry, yes. Are you done for today?”

  “Got most of the outline done. Some spots didn’t take ink. I’ll try those areas again next time an’ will work some of the lines again once they heal.”

  “How long does it take to heal?”

  “Two weeks.” He pulled her T-shirt from under her bra and slipped it over her exposed stomach, then carefully rolled her yoga pants up enough to cover the area so the top of her pubic area no longer showed. But he made sure not to roll it back over the plastic. “Keep it low on your hips. Got me?”

  “Yeah.”