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

by St. James, Jeanne

  He would’ve done whatever he could to make sure those fuckers died first.

  Coyote was no badass. He was a coward.

  Rocky’s words brought him back to the room. “Me an’ Doc took care of ‘im, though. Eye for an eye. Or more like a good guttin’. Hung ‘im up like a buck an’ sliced that fucker open from his dick to his throat. Shoulda seen the look on his face while we did it. Did the same for that other fucker, too. What was ‘is fuckin’ name... A tool of some kind... Hammer. Yeah, that’s it.” He grinned. “So, what kinda closure you expectin’ to get from hearin’ all that shit?”

  Just the complete truth. Not sugar-coated bullshit like his mother’s side of his family gave him. He needed it raw and knew if anyone would give it to him, Rocky would.

  Grizz and Ace would have glossed over it, too. After what he just heard, he wouldn’t blame them one fucking bit.

  But one thing he wasn’t sure about was if Grizz and Ace knew—and maybe they did and kept it a secret—that this Buzz was Slade’s own blood.

  Slade’s father raped, tortured and murdered Crow’s mother, Soaring Dove. Buzz’s club brother, Hammer, sliced Crow’s father’s throat. Though, from what Rocky said, it turned out Hammer had a round with his mother first before Buzz finished her off.

  “Slade know his pop did what he did?” Were Diamond and Slade keeping that from him?

  “Yeah, he knows. Baby doll an’ ‘im visited me a while back. Slade’s pop killed your ma, I killed Slade’s pop, an’ here I fuckin’ sit. Doc killed Hammer an’ he sits on death row. Ain’t quite even, but close.”

  Ain’t quite even, but close.

  Just like that. Simple.

  And close was where the son of his parents’ murderer lived. Right fucking next door. With Diamond.

  Slade lived and breathed among the Angels. The son of a Warrior. The son of a murderer. Another child would be born. The fourth generation of the DAMC would include a grandchild of a Warrior. A grandchild of someone who was a mortal enemy.

  How fucked was that?

  But, even so, that child would be wanted. Loved. Raised and protected by the club. Unlike Crow, who ended up being raised elsewhere.

  “No one wanted me.”

  Rocky pursed his lips and studied Crow for a moment before answering, “Everybody wanted you, boy. Your ma’s family came an’ got you against our wishes. Thought it was best for you to be raised Indian an’ not biker. Don’t blame ‘em. The shit goin’ down at the time was bad. Too dangerous for you kids. That was one of the reasons my brother wanted nothin’ to do with the club. Kept Z an’ Axel from that shit. Tried to protect them. Z wasn’t havin’ any of that, though. That boy made me proud. Buckin’ his father, doing what was in his fuckin’ blood. Bein’ a pig wasn’t in his blood. Fuck no. Bein’ DAMC was.”

  Being DAMC landed him in prison for ten years, too. Rocky sure didn’t mention that part. Being DAMC caused a huge fucking rift between him and his blood family for way too long.

  That wound was healing, but not without leaving a scar.

  “Why do you think I fuckin’ did what I did? Not just revenge. To protect Diamond, Jag and Jewel. To protect Ruby.”

  No, what he and Doc did landed their asses in prison for life, leaving the club down two brothers to protect their families. They didn’t take the Warriors out smart. They did it with big egos, wanting the Warriors to know.

  They did it as a warning, but that warning was never heeded by those nomads. Instead, it drew that fucking line deeper in the sand.

  It turned it into a never-ending war in which no one ended up the winner.

  The tables were finally, but slowly, turning, not due to Doc and Rocky, but Diesel.

  Z strived to keep the club above board as best as he could, which forced D’s hand to get a band of men together that could be used as a weapon. A precise weapon.

  D’s Shadows could move in, take Warriors out and no one was the wiser. And it kept the DAMC clean. At least on the surface.

  They cut off the head of the snake when they took out Sandman, the rival club’s president. But that didn’t mean another head wouldn’t grow back.

  And that was one reason why Z worked so hard on building the compound. Encouraging his brothers to move in. Stay close. Circle the wagons, almost.

  The third generation had children and ol’ ladies to protect now.

  “Gotta convince Jewelee to bring my grandkids in here to visit me. Can you do that? Keep askin’ Ruby, but she tells me Jewel says she will, but then doesn’t. Want to see my grandbabies. Tell Diesel to drag my fuckin’ daughter in here, got me?”

  Crow wasn’t getting involved with that shit. No fucking way. He’ll mention it to D, but he wasn’t pressuring the man or his ol’ lady to drag two baby girls into a max-security prison.

  “Jag, too. Fuckin’ family’s growin’ an’ everybody forgot their old man. Did all that shit for ‘em an’ they don’t appreciate it.”

  “Right. I’ll say somethin’ but that’s all I can do.”

  Rocky nodded. “Better than nothin’.” His shackles rattled when he shifted in his chair. “The day the Warriors quit existin’ is gonna be the best fuckin’ day ever.”

  “That day’s comin’.”

  “Yeah, so Ruby says. But ain’t soon enough.” Rocky tilted his head as he peered through the thick glass. “So now that you know the fuckin’ details, how’s that gonna help you?”

  Crow had no idea. Maybe it never would. But not knowing the truth, the details had eaten away at him for a long time. Now he knew, he wasn’t sure things would change. He was in that room when his parents were killed. As Rocky had talked, he had expected bits and pieces to come back to him. Things he’d tucked away into the corners of his mind, just like Jazz probably had during her ordeal. They’d both lived through violence and tragedy. He hoped hearing just how bad it was would help him deal with her past.

  Hearing what he was lucky to live through, reminded him no matter how bad things had been in the past, things could get better. It reminded him that the mind was a complex organ.

  Maybe today wouldn’t help him deal with Jazz but he at least needed to try. Only now it unsurfaced something he never expected.

  The son of the enemy living next door in their secure compound. The compound that was supposed to protect them. Slade was now deeply ingrained in the club. Not only being a brother, but being Diamonds ol’ man, by being the father of her unborn child.

  He had no reason not to trust Slade, but it sure made him fucking think twice about how easily the enemy could plant someone amongst them. When Slade was new, their guard was up. Now that he’d been around for a while, no one was watching him.

  “Hammer got family?”

  “Don’t know, boy. He did a lotta jabberin’ when we had ‘im strung up, but don’t remember ‘im beggin’ for his life because of any kids... Now, Buzz....”

  “Mentioned Slade?”

  Rocky shook his head. “Fuck no. But he mentioned another son. Said his kid’s momma was gone an’ the kid would be left an orphan. Figured after baby doll was here, that kid was Slade. Maybe not. Maybe he had another one. Wonderin’ if he even knew ‘bout Slade.”

  That kid had to be Slade. It only made sense.

  “Why you wanna know? You gonna take Diamond’s ol’ man an’ possibly this other son out in revenge for your ma an’ pop?”

  Before Crow could answer, a loud buzzing sounded again and the door behind Rocky swung open.

  “Times up, Rock,” the guard yelled. “Let’s go.”

  “Fuck,” Rocky muttered. As he pushed to his feet, he said. “Get my grandbabies here, Crow. Do it as payment for what I just told you, yeah?”

  Crow didn’t have to answer, because now two guards were there, grabbing Rocky’s elbows and pushing him out of the room.

  “Yeah?” Rocky yelled over his shoulder. “Got me, boy?”

  Instead of answering, Crow stood and watched the door close behind Jag, Jewel, and Diamond’s father.<
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  He’d do what the man asked and tell them what their pop requested, but that was all he would do. It would be up to them to decide what was best for them and their kids.

  Chapter Eight

  Where the hell was Crow? She’d woken up this morning to an empty bed, though she had no idea when she finally fell asleep. In fact, she didn’t think Crow got much sleep, either. But she somehow gave him the chance to slip out undetected.

  After he had held her for a little while last night, he had gotten up, pulled on a shirt and a pair of boxer briefs, tossed her one of his T-shirts and told her to put it on and then climbed back in bed to pull her against him once more. Besides the order to cover herself, he didn’t say much else.

  Being wrapped in his arms last night made her feel safe and wanted, even though she knew she was damaged goods. But Crow wanted it to be perfect for her. And he didn’t think last night it would be.

  He didn’t think she was ready.

  This morning she expected to head back to the shop, possibly spend the day with him. Instead, she found him gone. Maybe he just needed some separation. For his sanity. He had to be suffering after he abruptly stopped as he was...

  As he was...

  A warmth swirled through her and settled in her core. Yes, she had been about to have her first sexual experience with a man of her choosing and that had gone sideways.

  She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it would have felt like if he had continued to press forward, to finish what he started before she froze up like a fucking idiot.

  She bounced her fist off her forehead in frustration. They had been so close.

  She headed into the bathroom and flipped on the light to study herself in the mirror.

  For the most part, she didn’t think much of how she dressed and what her hair looked like anymore. She never tried to look “cute” or “sexy” or even pretty. The cheap over-the-counter hair dye was horrible, she knew that. The flat black color made her look goth. Hell, with her thin face and the dark circles under her eyes, maybe even like a meth head.

  But in truth, she wasn’t trying to look like anything. Just blend in. Not be noticed.

  Only exist.

  The heavy makeup she normally wore was more like a shield she hid behind.

  This morning she wasn’t putting any of that on. She was throwing it out. She also needed to find a ride to a hairdresser to see what could be done with her hair. Crow wanted it back to its natural color. That was the deal. She wasn’t sure that was even possible until the black grew out.

  But she could get it bleached and dyed back to a color as close to her own blonde as possible. Hopefully that would be good enough for now.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t have a way around town on her own. Her car was still parked behind In the Shadows Ink. Maybe she could call one of the sisters to help her out. Or if she could find Crow, he could drop her off at her vehicle, since there was no reason to hide that she was back in town anymore.

  Nope. That cat was out of the bag.

  She sighed. No matter how she got there, she needed to shower first since she smelled like sex, even though they never finished what they started.

  Maybe tonight they could try again. If he was willing.

  After her hair looked better. Maybe that would make her more attractive to him.

  She should call Momma B and have her grandmother give her some cooking lessons, so she could feed Crow better. While he said she was thin, he wasn’t much better.

  Hawk had always eaten at the bar before coming home, so she rarely had to cook for anyone but herself. Grocery shop so he had crap to snack on, yeah. But meals? No. And her being in college at the time, microwavable shit had been good enough for her.

  But maybe if she learned to make Crow a real dinner, he’d appreciate and realize she was now a grown woman.

  She wanted to look good for Crow. Remind him of what she used to look like before...

  She released a slow breath.

  Before.

  She felt the need to impress him. Show him he was making the right choice if he decided to be with her. Maybe not forever since he said they were “done” once her tattoo was finished.

  While she hadn’t planned on sticking around the Valley, she also had expected Crow would shoot her down right from the get-go. He hadn’t. So the only reason now that he wanted whatever they had, or might have, to be temporary was because he believed she was still too young for him.

  So yeah, learning to cook. Helping him out in the shop. Looking like the old Jazz. Getting past those sexual barriers. They might help Crow see her for who she was deep down, past the fractures at the surface.

  She wanted to be better and she wanted to be better with Crow.

  She ran a hand over her flat black hair. She needed to show him she could be everything he wanted.

  And desired.

  Age was just a fucking number.

  * * *

  Jazz watched Momma Bear’s car turn the corner as she exited the back alley where Jazz’s car had been moved that first night. Crow hadn’t wanted to leave it on the street. While Shadow Valley was safe for the most part, he was worried about someone clipping it if it remained parked at the curb. Plus, it took up valuable parking real estate in front of the tattoo shop that he needed for customers.

  After calling Momma B for a ride, her grandmother had insisted on taking her to her own hairdresser, a lady who lived right outside of town and worked out of her own home. And though Jazz was skeptical at first, it ended up that the woman was excellent at what she did.

  After her hair was bleached, colored, highlighted, washed and trimmed, even styled, Jazz looked in the mirror afterward surprised at who looked back at her.

  The sex that Crow and her sort of had last night had brought some color back to her face and life back into her eyes. Going easy on the makeup after her shower earlier hadn’t hurt, either.

  She forgot who that woman was who had wide green eyes and stared back at her in the reflection. She had forgotten her because she hadn’t wanted to deal with her for so long.

  But Crow insisted he wanted Jazz. The before. Not the after.

  She would also need to go shopping and grab some new clothes, since she had only brought an overnight bag with her from Buffalo. Momma B had jammed a wad of cash into Jazz’s purse before pushing her out of the car with a knowing smile. She gave the order to go shopping with Jayde, since the woman had a decent sense of style without looking like a patch whore or a stuck-up bitch.

  Yes, that’s exactly what Momma Bear said word for word.

  Jazz rolled her lips inward in amusement and dug in her purse to find her key fob.

  She had tried to text Crow earlier to find out where he disappeared to, but she got no answer. Most likely because he didn’t answer to any woman, especially her. Or was somewhere without coverage... Possibly. But more likely the first than the second.

  She’d also had her grandmother drive past the front of the shop to see if he was inside before taking her around back to her vehicle. She was disappointed to find out he wasn’t working, either. The storefront was dark, the sign on the door turned to “closed.”

  Was he with Diamond?

  Jazz pushed that thought away. Diamond seemed happy with this Slade, the newer patched member Jazz met yesterday at the club run and during the pig roast after. And she needed to remind herself that it was Slade’s child the older club sister carried, not Crow’s.

  But still... did Crow have feelings for Di? More than brotherly love?

  Finally finding the remote at the bottom of her bag, she pulled it out and unlocked her old Hyundai.

  She lifted her head when she heard another vehicle enter the ally. Frowning, she noticed it was a blacked-out some sort of SUV on steroids which looked like it could be driven by some drug kingpin. The exhaust rumbled, and the engine growled powerfully. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see who was driving.

  Her heart began to race when the vehicle accelerated as
she yanked open her door. Her fingers began to shake as she tried to keep one eye on the vehicle that was quickly approaching. Before she could throw her purse inside, she dropped her keys.

  “Fuck!” She needed to get into her car, lock the door and get the fuck out of there. The only problem was, the oversized SUV was now blocking her exit. And she didn’t have enough room to turn around.

  None of that might matter since she might not have time to start her car before whoever driving was upon her, anyway.

  She reached for the dropped fob, snagging it and jumping in, tried to shove the key in the ignition with trembling fingers. The damn key kept missing the slot. Using one hand to hold the other, she did her best to steady her hand. Finally, it slid home.

  Fuck. Her driver’s door was still hanging wide open.

  She was reaching for it when suddenly a tall, very large man was standing in the open door, blocking her from closing it.

  Losing her breath, she told herself to keep calm. Not to scream. Not to freak the fuck out. She needed to think clearly and not freeze up.

  She reached to turn the key, because she could at least reverse out of the alley if she had to. She couldn’t care less if she mowed down the man who continued to tower over the car and say nothing.

  “Jazz,” the deep voice said. Not in a threatening manner. Not in an angry manner. But surprisingly chill.

  She didn’t recognize the voice. And because he was standing in the doorway, she couldn’t see above his waist.

  She ignored him, turned the key and... she only heard a click.

  Fucking piece of shit car! She should have known it wouldn’t start and asked her grandmother to wait until she tried. Her car never started after sitting for a few days. The battery needed to be replaced and she didn’t have the money to do that.

  Her heart leapt into her throat when the man squatted down next to the car just inches from her. She jerked back when she saw his face.

  He had a thick scar running diagonally from the top of his hairline and down across his nose. The end of it stopped at the corner of his mouth and it pulled his lip up slightly.