Losing Crow (The Bloody Saints MC Book 1)

by Roxanne Greening

  Two Years Ago.

  I remember the day he walked in, and I tried to save him. If I knew then it was going to turn into a shit storm, I would have locked the door before he could walk through it.

  It was just before closing when he sauntered in. My eyes met his over the table I was cleaning. His dark gray T-shirt clung to him perfectly. It stretched over a beautifully muscular chest. His thick toned legs were encased in dark blue jeans that wrapped around his lower half deliciously.

  There was an instant throb between my legs. A need deep in the pit of my stomach. A horrible clawing ache in my chest. It left a horrible taste in my mouth. Fear. There was something about him, as cliché as that sounds, he looked like someone who needed to be saved. Not just in the bad boy needs a good woman kind of way.

  Color me stupid, but I didn’t want to see him end up like a few others. Those poor fucks. No one deserved to die like that. It was horrifying to watch as the person’s legs and arms were grabbed and swung back and forth like a hammock blowing in the wind before being tossed from the boat. At least it was a big boat that they got to cruise in, it was luxury for their small amount of time. Hello, bright side. That is before being dropped into international waters with some hungry sharks. The blood poured from the body which caused the sharks into a feeding frenzy.

  I cringed at the memory. I had been forced to attend the gruesome burial. I was property, and the club wanted me to keep the drinks flowing.

  Shaking away the memory, I became more thankful then I’ve been in years. The others had gravitated to the back of the bar, leaving me alone out here.

  Clutching the rag, I all but tripped over myself trying to reach him before he got too far into the bar and unlucky enough to be seen by one of the bikers.

  “Listen to me you need to get out of here,” I begged him. My eyes pleading.

  His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. His eyes seemed to question, why the fuck should I do that?

  “This is a biker bar. These guys will literally kill you if you’re not careful,” I tell him slowly. Hoping the words would sink in deep. I can’t help but to glance over my shoulder hoping they stayed back there.

  Again, he says nothing just raised an eyebrow. A silent challenge.

  That night changed everything. It was the beginning of the end.

  Chapter 1

  Tori

  Earlier That Night...

  If you asked me two years, three months, and forty-six days ago if I would be at this bar wiping tables and dodging roaming hands, I would have laughed in your face and called it a sick joke. But that’s not the case.

  I’m here in this stinky, filthy bar listening to the sounds of my feet sticking to the nasty floor, the laughs of the sweaty bikers who view me as nothing more than pussy on legs, and the hum of the piece of shit air conditioner.

  I leaned over the wooden table surface and set another beer down. These fuckers liked to make me work for it. Not once have they held up a hand or reached for their beers. My short legs stretched to their limits, and my toes strained as I reached as far as I could.

  Just as my fingers released the cold, wet bottle of beer, a hand slid up the back of my thigh. The calloused hand felt rough against my bare leg. It was like sandpaper against my skin. I fought the cringe that tried to appear on my face. Instead, I plastered a smile and rocked back onto my heels.

  Sidestepping his roaming hands, I once again cursed the dress code (I snort if you could call it that) the bar owner forced us ladies to wear. I had to wear short shorts, and they were so short my ass cheeks spilled out, and a too-small tank top that was completely stretched to its limits over my breasts that they almost pop out.

  “Tori,” Jack called from the bar.

  Relief had me almost sagging.

  “Enjoy your drinks boys,” I tell them with my fake megawatt smile.

  The club owned me. I feared the day they decided I was club girl material. I wasn’t so sure I could fight them off. My father, the bastard, borrowed enough money to keep me in their employment for the next five years. Then he bounced not caring that he was leaving me behind to pay for his mistakes.

  “Tori,” Deke smirked. He was the president of the club, and also known as the man trying to cop a feel a few moments ago.

  I turned to look at him. My silence was a safety measure, it was something I learned that quickly kept me alive and pain-free.

  Rule number one, don’t question them. Period. Rule number two, woman were to spread their legs whenever and wherever the club members chose or get the fuck out. Unless, of course, they own you. Then you get a small safety feature. I’m honestly relieved they don’t resort to force.

  Rule number three, be deaf, dumb, and blind. A must to stay alive. If you don’t, you might find yourself in the shark-infested water. I don’t know which one was worse.

  “You could pay us back faster by spreading those creamy thighs,” Deke said with a hungry smile. A small shudder of disgust tried to come over me.

  “My offer still stands. Clean slate if I get to pop your cherry,” he said while licking his puffy, chapped lips that were stretched into a smile that made his leathery skin more prominent.

  I fought another shudder, and I almost lost the battle with that one. I also tasted a hint of bile.

  “Thanks, but I like my job,” I tell him with my fake as fuck apologetic smile. I really wanted to give him the finger, slap his face, and tell him to fuck off. The man was old and disgusting.

  My shoulders sagged slightly as my shift ended. I needed something strong. A few drinks to clear away my fear and disgust that I felt. I also needed a hot shower to wash away the stench of the bar and the feel of their touches.

  Another night, only eighteen hundred twenty-nine more to go. The reminder was both a relief and a crushing weight.

  Chapter 2

  Zane

  Earlier That Night...

  Lifting the beer to my lips, I looked around the bar now that Sal’s gone. Fuck. Sal made a fucking mistake joining up with the cartel and crossing our mother chapter. Reyes, the mother chapter’s president, had to send in Gunner.

  The shit hit the fan with Reyes girl. Then things really went up shit’s creek, and here we are. I was now the new president, a job I didn’t want.

  I needed someone to go into Bloody Saints smaller chapter and check shit out. This was per the request of the larger mother chapter.

  I couldn’t send in another brother; this shit was damn near suicidal. It was like playing Russian roulette. Everyone disagreed with my choice, but in the end, it was mine to make.

  The cool, bitter liquid slid into my mouth and down my throat. I needed a moment of freedom before I had to hand over my colors and hit the road.

  The plan was to walk into the bar that they owned and pretend to be nothing more than a biker. Someone who knows nothing.

  “Fuck, man, I don’t envy you,” Topher slaps me on the shoulder as he climbs onto the bar stool beside me.

  “I fucking hate having to give up my cut,” I growled.

  He just smiled, the fucker. Shaking my head, I turned back to my beer.

  “Send someone else,” he said.

  “Who? You?” I asked.

  He glared at me.

  “You would, you fucking asshole,” Topher growled.

  He’s right if I were going to send anyone it would be him. The thought brought a smile to my face.

  “I need to go,” I tell him.

  Sighing, I lift my sorry ass off the bar stool. This shit was going to be a fucking nightmare. We had a lot riding on this deal with the Bloody Saints. They needed us to infiltrate their wayward children, so to speak. That way they could clean house and we, the Grimm Brothers, needed to end this fucking war between us.

  Chapter 3

  Tori

  Earlier That Night...

  I wanted something different for my little sister and me. Sometimes I questioned whether staying was smart or if running would be better.

 
I’ve had my fill of motorcycle clubs, that’s for fucking sure. The nasty things they say and do invokes this horrible feeling. I shudder at the memories of everything that I’ve seen. I try to push those memories back down to the gates of hell that I’ve shoved them in.

  The buzzing in my pocket had my heart freezing and my lungs deflating. My sister knew not to call me unless it was an emergency. She was eighteen, and I was feeling old at twenty. But she was all that I had, and I was all she had. Fuck you, dad!

  Glancing around I took in the few people scattered around the bar. No one was watching me as they were all watching Cherry. Cherry got her name because of her perfect from the bottle cherry red hair.

  She swayed as she moved around the room doing gods knows what. It wasn’t like she tended bar or waited tables. No, she was one of the “deserts.” I like to think of them as club friendlies, as she was friendly with all the men in the room. And in ways that I never want to be.

  Looking towards the dark empty hallway, I debated the safety of heading in that direction. I knew Deke was back there, and I made it a personal mission to never be alone with him. I also never used the bathroom here.

  The buzzing stopped only to start back up again. Gnawing on my lower lip, I debated what I was about to do. My eyes glanced towards the entrance thinking maybe I could sneak out front. No, they would lose their shit if I walked out of this bar before my shift ended.

  Shoulders slumping, I walked quickly to the dark tunnel they call a hallway. Pulling my phone out, I swipe to the right to answer her call.

  “This better be life or death,” I whispered into the phone.

  “He’s here again,” she mumbled into the phone.

  My hand tightened on the plastic device as my stomach plummeted. Oh, mother fucking god. This can’t be happening.

  “Is the door locked?” I asked her.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Where are you?” I demanded.

  “In the closet,” she whispered again. This time I could hear fabric shifting.

  “Is the bedroom door locked?” I asked her as panic and worry warred inside of me.

  “Yes,” My sister replied in a rush.

  “Listen to me. Keep your phone on you. Call the bar, call the fucking cops, but do not, I repeat, do not let that fucker in,” I growled.

  “I won’t,” she mumbled quietly.

  Some of the panic that I heard in her voice earlier was missing.

  “I put three more deadbolts on yesterday,” I reminded her.

  That made six altogether.

  “And a kick plate,” I told her quietly.

  The frame would have to break for him to get the door open. Why the fuck did my sister date that piece of shit? I thought about asking the club for help, but I already owed them more then I should.

  I feared what payment the club would want if I asked for help. I assume it would be me on my back as they took me one after another. My whole body shuddered in disgust.

  “Brittany, listen to me. You will be okay. I will be home in two hours. Can you hold on that long?” I asked her gently.

  “Ok,” she tells me, her voice getting a firmer edge to it.

  What I wouldn’t give to take this fear, uncertainty, and pain away.

  “I’m sorry,” she tells me sadly.

  “This is not your fault. That fucker is sick,” I tell her. There is no doubt in my voice. I want her to understand no matter how many times I have to tell her. This isn’t her fault.

  Ronald was crazy. Sure, he was smooth when they started dating six months ago. He was all gentlemanly and so generous. Then he started to get a little possessive and not in a sweet I love you, kind of way.

  He started monitoring her calls. Pushing her friends out of the picture. Going as far as to put his hands on my ass. My jaw clenched at the reminder.

  I wanted to go to the police the first time he broke into our apartment and stole half our underwear. But the club told me from the very beginning no cops… ever. No matter what.

  “I love you,” I tell her. “We’re going to get through this, I promise.”

  “I love you, too,” Brittany tells me.

  I could tell she wasn’t so sure about getting through this. I wish I could move, but I was only getting half my wages and half my tips. It was barely enough to put food on the table and keep the bills paid. I fucking hated the dreaded disconnection notice. I’ve seen too many.

  Putting the phone back into my pocket I headed back into the main room, but before I made it all the way to safety, well as safe as it can get, a meaty hand grabbed my shoulder.

  Hot breath brushed my ear. Another shudder of disgust.

  “Tori,” Deke whispered.

  “Hey, Deke,” I say casually. Almost like we were friends, and the weather was warm and beautiful. Really anything but what was really happening in my chest. My heart pinched, and my body tensed. Oh, god, was I going to get away?

  “Where are you going, sweets?” he asked.

  “Oh, you know, had to go to the bathroom, that time of the month,” I told him.

  His hand released me, and I stumbled slightly. Shit, even if it was a lie, I was thankful it dissuaded him from what I was sure he planned on doing.

  His silence was my cue to leave, and I took it and ran with it. Well, I almost literally ran with it. I shifted and moved quickly like a nice speed walk. You know when you want to run but don’t? Yeah, like that.

  Chapter 4

  Tori

  Now

  I felt the breeze as soon as the door opened. It ruffled my hair and sent a chill down my spine. For a moment I contemplated who would be stupid enough to walk into a biker bar. Not just any bar, but the Bloody Saints MC’s bar. The assholes were crazy.

  I knew for a fact the bikers were all out back. I had watched Cherry, and a few other girls giggle their way down the hallway. They were getting little ass slaps as they went.

  My toes were stretched to their limit as I wiped down the wooden tavern table. My breasts pressed firmly against the damp surface. I knew whoever just came in, was getting a nice good look at my ass as it all but fell out of my jean shorts. They reminded me of my small skimpy boy short underwear that I favored.

  I felt eyes on me, and for a moment I feared that one of the brothers had come back from the party in the other room. That room was off limits to everyone else. You only went in there to fuck, plain and simple. The moment you crossed over the threshold that was your approval for whatever they wanted. Words no longer mattered.

  A small shudder went through me. I learned about the room on the second night that I worked here. A few girls looking for a good time found out the hard way that once they went in that room, the word ‘no’ fell on deaf ears.

  I save as many as I can from making that mistake. As of now, most of the girls who venture back there want what’s offered. I have yet to be caught as I would discreetly tell the new girls that they didn’t want what was being offered. Some left others didn’t.

  Guilt still gnawed at me. The looks on the girl’s faces who didn’t take my warning ate at my insides like an infestation. Especially at the tears, bruises, and ripped clothing. My head hung a little, and my shoulders went to my ears. I wanted to disappear.

  I tried to remember why I was doing this. Remembering what was at stake. I can’t save all the girls, but I can save my sister and as many as I can.

  I spelled it out for them and told them what would happen. The guilt shouldn’t be so bad, they chose their fate. Tears pricked my eyes, and I swallowed hard as I fought myself.

  Get it together. Get this place clean and get home to your sister. Who thankfully hasn’t called back. That meant that Ronald was gone.

  I moved around the table to get more coverage, and I lifted my eyes and met striking amber. Something in me screamed to save him.

  My feet moved, and I all but ran to the man. His blond hair was like a halo. He looked like a Greek god with an abundance of muscle and sinfully dark tat
toos.

  “Listen to me, you need to get out of here,” I begged him. My eyes pleading.

  His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. His eyes questioned, why the fuck should I do that?

  “This is a biker bar. These guys will literally kill you if you’re not careful,” I tell him slowly. Hoping the words would sink in deep. I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder hoping the club stayed back there.

  Again, he said nothing just raised an eyebrow. A silent challenge. My heart beat faster as his eyes darkened slightly. A frown tugged on his full lips.

  “Shouldn’t you want the service?” His deep voice washed over me, and I gave an involuntary shiver. Something deep inside me clenched. What the fuck?

  “You’re not listening to me. They. Will. Kill. You.” I emphasized every word.

  “Listen darlin’ I’ve been riding for hours, and I need a cold beer and some downtime,” he tells me quietly.

  Shit! He couldn’t stay here. His presence was going to cause a lot of trouble. For both him and me.

  “Look, this isn’t just you on the line here. This is my life too,” I tell him as my tone hardened a little.

  “Beer, whatever local you have on tap,” he replied.

  He wasn’t leaving without his beer. Giving a nervous look over my shoulder, I bit my lip before turning back to the good-looking guy. For my sanity, please try not to cry.

  “One beer and then you’ll leave?” I asked him desperately.

  I wanted to beg him to just go. Hell, I would offer him a cup to go if it wasn’t both illegal and if we had one.

  “Sure,” he tells me while nodding his head.

  I scurry over to the bar. My feet were sticking to the floor, and I grimaced with every step. Grabbing a semi-clean glass, I poured him some Shipyard.

  “How long have you been working here?” He asked, his voice was low and sinful.

  I bet that tone had panties damping and spontaneously combusting all the time.

  “Too long,” I tell him with a forced smile.

  “Why don’t you quit?” He asked, his tone curious.

  “Don’t have a choice,” I tell him with a careless shrug.