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

by St. James, Jeanne

  Crow had moved farther into the room, his almost-black eyes taking her in as she curled up in his bed under his sheets.

  “No. Had to talk to her ol’ man.”

  She wanted to ask about what. But it wasn’t her business, especially if it was club business. She knew that drill.

  However, he kept talking. “Had to straighten some shit out with Slade.”

  “And did you?”

  As he slowly approached the bed, his eyes not leaving her, he stripped off his cut and his clothes. “Yeah.”

  Jazz gave him a half smile. “Good.”

  “Gotta get you fed soon, Kachina. But...”

  She was finding it hard to catch her breath because he was now naked, his golden skin gleaming in the soft glow of the lamp on his nightstand. “But?”

  His cock was hard and jutting out from his body. He wasn’t thinking about food. Or Diamond.

  Well, now neither was she.

  “Wanna be inside you again. Gonna be okay with that?”

  “Yes.” Because it was true. The sex she’d had with Crow, was not only everything she imagined, but even better. And she truly couldn’t wait to do it again to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.

  “Sure?”

  She gave him a small smile and pulled back the top sheet in invitation. “Yes.”

  It ended up that the second time wasn’t as long as the first. Or nearly as excruciatingly slow.

  Jazz realized the sex with Crow—how good it had been—wasn’t a fluke at all.

  And now, two weeks later, she was feeling much more comfortable in her own skin. Even naked. Tomorrow, she’d go back to the shop and he’d work some more on her tattoo. She looked forward to it but also dreaded it.

  While she couldn’t wait until the piece was done, she also wasn’t ready to endure that pain again. And she knew the sooner he got the tattoo done, the sooner she’d be out of both his house and his life. She’d have to restart her own life for real. No more hiding.

  Once again this morning, she had woken up and the bed was empty beside her. She had no idea where he went. The familiar smell of coffee brewing was curiously absent. And while it was her job as house mouse to go down and make him breakfast, she didn’t want to see where he’d gone.

  Most likely it was next door. Again.

  While Diamond had kept her word and stayed away, giving them space, that didn’t mean Crow didn’t go over and spend time with the woman in her own house.

  Because he probably did.

  So instead of heading downstairs and letting that thought eat at her, she had grabbed her guitar and climbed back into bed to play a little while she waited. To let the music she loved so much soothe her soul.

  She played a few different riffs and kept humming along until she found the right song that fit her mood. The perfect song that expressed what was going through her.

  Bound to You.

  Because that’s what she was. Bound to Crow.

  She found a man she could trust. And because of him, she was breaking down the walls she had built around herself all those years ago.

  Her worry was, when Crow finally walked away, she would suffer all over again. Maybe even rebuild those walls, because she didn’t want to think about being with anyone else.

  She couldn’t imagine letting anyone else in. Not in the way she had allowed him.

  She let her eyes close as she sung the potent Christina Aguilera song. Every word, every syllable, every note flowing through her. If only Crow could hear them, understand what he meant to her. When her tattoo was done, she could only hope he might not want her to go. He might not want her to move on.

  Possibly ask her to stay.

  But then again, she shouldn’t hold out that hope, because she could end up disappointed in the end.

  No matter what, the last two weeks with him had made her stronger. Made her feel more like herself. Or how she used to be when she actually loved life. And now, because of him, she was once again looking toward her future, whether he was in it or not.

  She hoped he was.

  Because every night when he’d come home late from the shop, he’d climb into bed with her, wake her gently, then make love to her.

  Every night.

  Every night she lost another piece of her heart to him.

  Every night their intimacy built a stronger connection between them...

  Maybe she was fooling herself.

  Maybe he was only doing her a favor by helping her move on. Following through on his promise to her.

  But she didn’t want to move on when it came to him.

  She didn’t want to cut those ties. She didn’t want to be freed from those chains...

  When she sang the last line of the song, declaring how she was bound to him, she let her fingers still and slowly opened her eyes.

  And met his nearly black ones. He had a shoulder leaning against the doorway as he watched her. His expression made her heart skip a beat.

  Without a word, he stalked toward the bed, lifted the guitar strap over her head and put the instrument aside.

  Her thumping heart began to race as he tugged his T-shirt over his head and slipped out of his jeans.

  Then he was on her, over her, kissing her, touching her. Lips, fingers, tongue. His body was hot and hard. For once there was no foreplay, no taking his time.

  No assuring himself that she was ready.

  No going painstakingly slow, which drove her out of her mind.

  No, he only said her name once. Her full name.

  Jasmine.

  Then he took her.

  Completely.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips and encouraged him to keep his feverish pace. She cried out his name, scraping her nails down his back.

  When she shattered around him, her only thought was...

  They fit perfectly.

  This was how it was meant to be.

  This was where she belonged.

  She.

  Was.

  Home.

  * * *

  Jazz sat on the back deck at Crow’s house, facing the woods as the sun lowered slowly behind the trees. To her right was a small table that held a glass of Jim Beam with a splash of pop. She was hoping it would dull the pain from the work Crow did two days ago on her tattoo.

  He had retraced a lot of the lines that hadn’t held the black the first time and started filling in the negative space with some color. He hadn’t gotten as far as he would’ve liked because the pain had become unbearable and no matter how hard Jazz tried to hide it, she couldn’t fool him.

  Every few minutes he’d look up, assess her expression, then his dark eyebrows would knit together and a frown would mar those beautiful, full lips of his.

  Lips she loved to have all over her body. Lips that kissed her with expertise. Lips that would make her orgasm when they sucked on her clit.

  Heat rolled through her and landed in her core as she pictured that.

  Clearing her head, she held the guitar carefully against her body, avoiding pressing too hard against the fresh ink.

  She was picking at the strings and playing around with different chords, attempting to flesh out a song in her head she was writing, a song that had been disturbing her sleep.

  She cleared her throat and dropped her chin to her neck, concentrating on the words that slipped from between her lips.

  “Faith, hope and whiskey. Gotta have all three to get me through the day,” she crooned, then laughed because what she was feeling and what was coming out were two different things. And what was coming out sounded like a really awful country song.

  She paused, took another sip of her strong drink, letting that warmth slide into her stomach, and went back to plucking at the strings, trying to find the right words.

  She started from the top a little more seriously this time, strumming along with the words that spilled from her. “Baby, spread your wings and fly. Take me on this journey through the sky. No matter where we land, as long as we’re togeth
er, please understand...”

  She drifted off. While she had taught herself how to play the guitar solely using YouTube videos, she certainly didn’t learn how to write lyrics. Or apparently have the talent for it.

  It would be best for her to stick with songs she knew.

  She lifted her head, reached for the glass, and...

  Screamed.

  She pressed a palm to her chest to keep her heart from trying to escape.

  How the fuck did he sneak up on her without her knowing?

  “Never heard that one before.” His deep voice resonated through her.

  She finished reaching for the drink and downed half of it before placing it back on the table with shaky fingers.

  “There’s a reason for that,” she told him, hoping the alcohol would get her blood pressure back down to normal.

  “Your voice is beautiful.”

  Well, that certainly didn’t help. Her heart was still beating like a runaway train as she responded, “Thank you.” She tilted her head as she looked up... and up... at Mercy. He towered over her, the fading light making his face look more savage than ever. “What are you doing here?”

  “Got something for you.”

  Oh, Jesus. Hopefully not more trophies of dead men.

  “Mercy, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She glanced around quickly. “In fact, you being here isn’t a good idea at all.”

  His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Why? He claim you yet?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Uh... no.” She pulled the strap over her head and set her guitar carefully on the chair next to her. When she shifted, she winced. Her hand fluttered over her lower belly, even though she knew better than to touch it...

  “What’s wrong?” Mercy asked sharply.

  She shook her head.

  “You hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Jazz, I know what they did to you there. I fuckin’ saw it.”

  Heat crawled up into her cheeks and she grabbed her glass. As she lifted it to her lips, he snagged it from her fingers and set it back on the table. Before she could stop him, he pulled her to her feet by her elbow and lifted her shirt just enough to see the tattoo.

  “Hey!” she shouted, trying to tug her tank top back down.

  “Jesus,” he murmured, rolling her black yoga pants down enough so he could see more of it.

  “You can’t just... touch me like that,” she exclaimed, her pulse now pounding in her throat.

  He released her quickly and stepped back. His eyes were dark and his face completely blank as he stared at the area, even though it was once again covered.

  “Jazz...”

  She lifted a hand. “Isn’t any of your business.” She shut her eyes for a moment, because that wasn’t true. It was his business.

  He’d seen everything that day. He settled the score with Squirrel and Black Jack. He’d wreaked havoc on that outlaw MC for her and the rest of their victims. She was one of a few reasons that D’s crew did what they did.

  She was one of those reasons why that room in that garage out in the middle of nowhere was full of Warrior cuts.

  So, yeah, it was his business.

  He might have the emotions of an iceberg, but deep down inside, everything that happened to her had affected him. Deep down in the center of that icy exterior burned an inferno that drove him to exact vengeance.

  For her. For Kiki. For Jewel. For the club.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. She tugged down the waistband of her stretchy yoga pants and pulled up the hem of her shirt enough so he could clearly see Crow’s in-progress work. “He’s fixing me.”

  Something changed in Mercy’s face at her words. A shift. It wasn’t any warmer than his former expression, but it was different. “You don’t need to be fixed.”

  “We all need to be fixed in one way or another.” She wondered if the scar that marred his face bothered him. She was worried about a scar that she could easily cover with clothes. Unless he was wearing a ski mask, his would always be exposed. He couldn’t hide it, not like her.

  And while they both wore scars as reminders of what happened to them, that wasn’t all she meant when she said everyone needed to be fixed. It wasn’t the actual physical scars that needed fixing, but the emotional ones.

  “What we experience throughout our life makes us who we are. Good or bad. It shapes us. No one needs to be fixed. We just need to embrace who we are and how we ended up that way. Every situation we survive makes us stronger. It teaches us how to deal with the next one.”

  That was deeper than she ever expected to come out of his mouth.

  He continued, “Need someone who will accept you as you are.”

  Did he think that was him? “Not someone. Myself. I need to accept me as I am. But not with this. I don’t like seeing this reminder every damn day.”

  She needed to pull him from the deep and back to the surface. Because she wasn’t willing to discuss with him just how deep her scars went.

  He reached out and Jazz winced, fighting the instinct to step back out of his reach. She forced her feet to remain planted and her eyes to remain open. His long fingers curled around hers and he peeled them from both her tank top and her yoga pants and smoothed her clothes carefully back into place.

  “You came back for that.”

  It wasn’t a question and she really wasn’t obligated to answer... “Yes. Among other things.”

  His gray eyes bore into her. “What other things?”

  Jazz chewed on her bottom lip. Unfortunately, that little action told him everything. He was good at reading people, that was clear. But it made sense since he needed to be to do the jobs he did for D.

  “You in his bed?”

  “He only has one bed,” she countered.

  “He in it with you?”

  Instead of answering, she deflected, though she was pretty sure how he’d read that, too. “How did you get in? This neighborhood is secure.”

  His lips twitched at the word “secure.” He pulled a small remote out of the front pocket of his jeans and held it up. “Bought a lot here. Not sure if I’m gonna do anything with it. Not sure if I wanna live in a neighborhood, even though this isn’t the typical ‘hood.”

  No, it certainly wasn’t. It was exclusive for the DAMC, but it would make sense that Diesel would offer his guys lots. Having his men live there would up the security by probably a million percent and that was a conservative estimate.

  “Can’t see you living in a house like this.”

  “D’you ever see Crow doing the same?”

  Jazz turned her head and glanced at the house before answering honestly, “No, I didn’t. It surprised me.”

  “I understand why Z wanted his so-called compound. Can understand why my boss wants us moving in. It’s smart. Not only is it safe, it’s got nosy fuckin’ neighbors who are looking out for each other. An extended family who cares.”

  His eyes slid to the side and so did Jazz’s.

  She muttered a “fuck” under her breath when she saw Diamond standing on the back deck of her own house, a cell phone to her ear while she eyeballed them.

  Jazz knew who was on the other end of that phone. The woman was not only disturbing Crow at work, but was snitching on her. She needed to get Mercy gone.

  She tilted her head and studied the tall man before her. “So... Why are you here?”

  “Need you to come with me.”

  Ah, Jesus, not that shit again. She sighed. “Where?”

  He, of course, didn’t answer. She guessed he figured she’d just jump into his vehicle and let him take her to some unknown place. Like she didn’t learn her lesson the first time.

  “Where, Mercy?” she asked again, more firmly. “I can’t just disappear. Not like last time.” Which caused a whole panic she didn’t want to cause again.

  “The warehouse.”

  “D’s warehouse?”

  “Yeah.”


  Well, that should be safe enough. Especially if Diesel was there. But what the hell would be there that she needed to see? A bazooka? A tank? The Batmobile?

  Jazz glanced over her shoulder at the house next door. With what looked like narrowed eyes, Diamond shot her a frown while she kept talking into the phone.

  “She’s looking out for you.”

  “Sure she is,” Jazz answered, shooting Diamond an answering frown.

  “Why I don’t live here. Too many eyes.”

  “Isn’t that the truth,” Jazz muttered. She turned her head toward her nosy club sister and shouted out, “Tell him the warehouse.” She turned back to Mercy. “Guess you’re driving. I’m sure my ride home will be following soon enough.”

  With a smile that didn’t reach his winter gray eyes, he nodded and, after putting her guitar in the house and setting the alarm, she did something she’d never thought she’d do a second time.

  She got into Mercy’s monster SUV, so he could show her something she wasn’t so sure she wanted to see.

  * * *

  If Mercy was a house cat, he’d be the kind that kept bringing dead birds and rodents to his owner to make sure his human didn’t starve.

  Mercy’s idea of gifts wasn’t a normal one. No way, no how.

  But then, she doubted that the man had a normal cell in his body. Otherwise, he couldn’t to do what he did and not go off the deep end.

  Or that’s what she told herself.

  Maybe insanity was his normal.

  Maybe he wore his icy exterior as a cloak, a disguise to hide who he truly was. To deal with everything he’s been through, everything he’s done.

  Sort of like she had with her hair and her clothes.

  She could understand that. That’s why she didn’t hesitate too long to go with him to the warehouse. And this time, Crow knew where she was.

  Thanks to Diamond.

  But now she felt as frozen as Mercy appeared. Because what he wanted to show her was just...

  Fucked up.

  So fucked up.

  She was trying desperately to wrap her head around what she was seeing and why it was important that Mercy show it to her.