Cruz
A Dark And Dirty Sinners’ MC: FIVE
Serena Akeroyd
Copyright © 2020 by Gemma Mazurke
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Dedication
For all the Moms who were betrayed as little girls. For all the Moms who are doing what needs to be done to make sure their babies are never betrayed. For all the Moms who are reeling in the aftermath of a betrayal…
Those bastards, may they rot in hell, will meet their Nyx one day.
To Abby. You’ll never go through what your mom did. She’ll make sure of it.
And so will I.
Soundtrack
If you’d like to hear a curated soundtrack, with songs that are featured in the book, as well as songs that inspired it, then here’s the link:
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/43E4Vq7NPvU0EQYzuvnyzK
This might not be what you’re used to from the Sinners.
That’s my fault. ;)
Trigger warning
For survivors of sexual abuse, approach with care.
This book was vetted by a survivor and she herself told me to tell you:
"For people like me, Indy's story is too common. But Serena has done survivors justice with this book. I remember telling Serena that reading Cruz made me feel normal, not alone in what I had gone through, so yes, I cried, and yes, if it's too raw for you, then don't read it. But, now, Indy can finally start to heal, and maybe, you'll feel that way too."
Also, just FYI, there are BDSM elements in here.
If either of these things affect you, please, don’t read this book and feel free to seek a refund. <3
Contents
Dedication
Soundtrack
Trigger warning
Part I
1. Indy
2. Cruz
3. Indy
4. Indy
Part II
5. Cruz
6. Cruz
7. Cruz
8. Indy
9. Indy
10. Cruz
11. Indy
12. Indy
13. Indy
14. Bear
15. Cruz
16. Rachel
17. Cruz
18. Lodestar
19. Storm
20. Indy
21. Cruz
22. Indy
23. Ghost
24. Indy
25. Rex
26. Indy
27. Indy
Rex
Afterword
Charity Merch
Free Book!
Connect with Serena
About the Author
Part One
One
Indy
It was late, but I was wired.
One of the downsides of not only working at, but owning a tattoo parlor, were the hours. They were long, arduous, but more than that, they were whacko too.
I’d finished working on my last client’s back an hour ago, and that was at three AM. What could I say? I worked when my peeps needed me, saying screw it if it messed with my circadian rhythms.
Hey, nature was born to be fucked with.
But, the trouble was, when I’d tried to clamber upstairs, head to my own quarters, I’d just been too buzzed.
Steeler’s back piece was legendary.
Shit, I’d done enough career-making tattoos to recognize one.
From the top of his shoulders, along to his hips, over the plump mounds of his muscular ass, then to his thighs and calves, when I said it was a back piece, I meant it. Every inch of his back half was covered.
By my work.
Talk about a fucking honor.
Flames licked at his heels, and along to his lower thighs where a body soared out from the fire. A woman stood there, a heart in her hands, her face lowered to the organ that dripped blood down her form.
It was, in a word, breathtaking.
The only color came from the blood and the heart, everything else was black and white, and it was beautiful.
If I could have adorned my own back with it, I would have, but no way in fuck would I trust just anyone with my body. Not anymore. I had the pieces that mattered to me now, and the rest would come with time, when I trusted another artist. When my mentor, Jimmy Laruso, had passed on, my time under the needle had come to an end. But tonight gave me as much of a high as Steeler had from the endorphins.
Sure, my shoulders ached, my spine felt like it had a permanent crick in it, my eyes were tired, and the skin beside them felt crinkled and in need of ironing out from fatigue and squinting, but aside from all that, this was about as ‘on top of the world’ as I ever got.
Which was why I was rolling up the driveway to the Satan’s Sinners’ clubhouse.
I wanted to be left alone and I didn’t want to see or speak with anyone for at least eight hours.
If I did, I’d have headed into the city to go and sit with Stone, my best bud, who was in the hospital. So, avoiding David, my assistant, who’d been trailing my ass until the turn off to the compound, and seeing the Prospect who was manning the gates, were both bad enough, because I just wanted to be left alone while I cleaned.
Stone was coming home soon, and Rex had hauled in a bunch of brothers to get working on the bunkhouse where she’d be staying to recuperate. All the bunkhouses were stuck in another era and badly in need of an update—Rex had taken one, turned it into a home where Stone could heal without wanting to leave from just how gross the place was, and now I wanted to clean it.
She might be the doctor, but I was the one who was obsessed with keeping my environment clean. And when it boiled down to the people I gave a damn about, or in Stone’s instance, loved, well, I’d go the extra length and bleach any motherfucking thing to within an inch of its life.
The night air was just starting to turn damp with the onset of early morning dew, and it was that time where, no matter the season, there was that little chill in the air. The one that got into your bones and made you shudder just that teeny bit.
I shrugged it off, grabbed the bucket I’d packed with cleaning products from the footwell of the passenger seat of my Camaro, and shifted into gear.
All my stuff was eco-friendly, but not the bleach. That was one thing I couldn’t live without. It was actually kind of an addiction. My nails were wrecked because of it, had little lines running down the lengths so I always had them painted.
If the shrinks my family had seen in the aftermath of Carly’s death had known what I’d done with bleach, they’d probably have held another intervention.
When I thought about how I’d scrubbed myself clean with it, I still shuddered in horror at just how badly it could have gone wrong. I mean, I had the scars, only they were buried under a ton of ink, but those marks had forged me into the woman I was today.
One who helped others cover up their scars, and who loved her baby brother. He was my ride or die because, when it mattered, he’d been mine, saving me from myself and that bottle of Clorox when he’d found me using it like it should never be used.
It was stupid. In fact, it was fucking stupid because I needed the goddamn bleach, but my thoughts, the memories, Caleb, all of it combined and I hurled the bottle ahead of me. As it soared through the sky, gravity had it plummeting with a nasty thud. The instant smell of chemicals had me wi
ncing, and hoping there was some in the bunkhouse.
“You’re an idiot,” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head at my own stupidity.
My trouble was I had a quick-to-trip flip switch.
Always had. Always would.
Heaving a sigh, I trudged to the bunkhouse, wishing that my high of before hadn’t just plummeted to the ground like the bottle of fucking Clorox.
That was another constant.
My life was like a helium balloon that was destined to soar only to fall.
“And that’s enough self-pity for one night,” I grumbled to myself, because no one had time for that shit.
The door was unlocked, because only an idiot would think to break onto the compound and steal anything, but it meant I didn’t have to head into the clubhouse to grab a key which was a relief, as it was quite likely there’d be an orgy going down in there.
As I rolled in, my brows arched as I saw how hard the guys had been working because it was complete. The TV was up, the new sofa was in, and when I strolled into the bathroom, then the bedroom, there was still plastic wrap around the new mattress, as well as that plastic liner stuff they put on mirrors to protect the surface.
Dumping my bucket on the floor in the kitchen, I ran the water as I emptied it, then when it was hot, filled it to the brim.
And after I rolled up the sleeves of my Martin Garrix hoodie—the one Nyx and Caleb always gave me shit for—I got to work.
Bathroom, then kitchen, then surfaces in the living room and bedroom, and then the floor. By that point, I was sweating bullets, and as I tossed the scrubbing brush on the ground, I swiped at my sweaty forehead before tossing the hoodie off and onto the sofa.
A few minutes into my scrubbing sesh, I heard a wolf whistle, and I froze.
It was low.
Almost silent.
But I’d been a victim once, and I’d sworn I’d never be again, so even when I was busy, I kept at least one part of myself aware of my environment.
My head whipped around, and I saw him standing there, leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes narrowed at me.
I immediately registered that he hadn’t intended for me to hear the whistle, but that didn’t stop me from glowering at him. Not only for the whistle, not only for watching me and creeping up on me, but also for the fact that his gaze was fixed, quite firmly, on my tits.
Typical fucking man.
“The eyes are up here, Cruz,” I snarled at him, and even though I was quite willing to go head to head with him, two things were going against me.
One: I’d had a nineteen-hour day, and was exhausted.
Two: If I carried on cleaning and just ignored him, I knew he’d carry on watching me.
Cruz wasn’t like the other brothers. I didn’t know much about him, and to be honest, I thought that was the case for the entire club. I didn’t want to say that he was an enigma, because if I did, I’d find that attractive and I didn’t have time for attraction right now.
I’d tried to fuck my past out of my system throughout my early twenties, and while I hadn’t taken a vow of chastity, it was an old habit I was trying to get out of.
I could still remember the day when a fuck buddy had given my number to another guy, who’d thought I was a hooker. I’d woken up with two hundred dollars on my nightstand and—
“You’re lucky I’m not Nyx.”
I was grateful for the intrusion into my thoughts, just not so happy about what he was saying.
“Why? Because he’d tell me off for being here?” Goddamn brothers. Even Caleb who was younger than me, treated me like I was fucking five.
“No, because if he’d thought you were a home invader, he’d have shot you first then registered what was going on second.”
I snorted. “Nyx’d never shoot first. You have met him, haven’t you?”
Cruz’s lips twisted. “Oh, I’ve met him. I’ve also seen him in action whereas you, I don’t think, have.”
“You’d be surprised.” If he was taken aback by that, he didn’t say anything, nor did he ask what I’d seen in particular.
Good thing, too. I wouldn’t have told him the truth anyway.
“You’re a treasure trove full of surprises, aren’t you, Indy?” he mused, his voice soft.
I scowled at him as I reached up again and rubbed my forehead. My hair was clinging to my temples, sticking to my cheeks too. I knew my cami was drenched down my back, and was probably plastered to my front as well. I was just grateful I was wearing a sports bra or he’d be getting a real show.
When had camis stopped being a covering and turned into a flimsy piece of fabric that facilitated a perv ogling someone’s chest, huh?
“I’m no one’s idea of a treasure,” I muttered under my breath.
“No? I think Stone would disagree.” He peered around the place. “I was in here today fitting the TV. It was a mess. And it reeked of sawdust. You did this all on your own?”
“See any Smurfs in the vicinity?” I retorted, sniffing at him. “Cruz, I’m busy. I still have the floor to do and then I can get back home and get some rest.”
His frown deepened, but he surprised me by shrugging, twisting around, and heading out the door as silently as he’d trudged in.
He’d given my lagging energy a kick in the butt though, so that was something. Whenever I thought about how he’d been looking at my tits, standing there as cool and as calm as anything, I’d scrub the floor harder and with more exertion than was technically necessary.
Those goddamn green eyes seemed to see everything. That dark mink hair made Loki’s look blond. I’d bet this month and last month’s rent that it felt like fucking silk against my fingers. And all that ink? He was exactly the kind of guy I tried to avoid.
I had an eye for men that were covered in tats. Especially good ones. I loved his hands too, which was inconvenient because I wanted no man’s hands on me. They were inked black, and negative space was used to create the image of finger bones.
It was creepy, but it spoke of the man.
Everything about his ink did. It was grungy, grimy, dark. But it contrasted with that silky brown hair that belonged to an angel, the eyes that were clear like glass, and the face of a man who would be able to grace the front page of GQ.
Agitation saw me through the rest of the floor, but when I’d finished for real, I was exhausted. Too tired to drive. Too wrecked to even take a shower, which was indicative of how damn tired I was because I showered three times a frickin’ day.
I felt bad, but there was still plastic on the mattress, so I tiptoed over the still-drying floor and plopped onto the bed. In my dirty cami and jeans, boots and all, I slept.
And slept.
And slept.
Only, when I woke up, there was a blanket by my feet that I’d shoved down while I rested, and I knew that was Cruz’s doing because I hated being covered while I slept.
Which meant he’d come back.
And hadn’t tried to hurt me.
Interesting.
Cruz
As I drove off the compound, I saluted Jaxson before I trundled down toward West Orange.
Only Jax and me were awake at this point, even Indy had fallen asleep because I’d checked in on her to make sure she was okay before I left to head to the warehouse district.
With her ride still parked, I’d been concerned. She’d looked a little frazzled. A lot on edge.
She was a puzzle I’d been trying to solve for a few years, ever since she’d come back to West Orange after a long time down in Louisiana.
I hated puzzles.
As much as I loved them.
Most of the mistakes I’d made in my life were thanks to a puzzle I just had to solve. Some of them were complex, some of them were chemical or structural, some of them were scientific, very few of them were human.
Which made her unusual.
I disliked the unusual as much as I disliked puzzles.
My fingers tightened a
round the steering wheel at the thought of how she’d looked on her hands and knees, tits swaying even with her sports bra keeping those beauties restrained, sweat on her brow, her eyes a little glazed from fatigue—it’d be too easy to strip off those clothes in my mind’s eye and for her to look like she was being fucked. The way she’d rocked back and forth on her knees, swaying as she scrubbed, it was like she was being screwed doggy style. Not pounded, just screwed.
There was a distinct difference.
My dick had been aching ever since I’d gone to check in on the bunkhouse during my shift. The bar had been busier than usual as it was a Saturday night, a lot of brothers had been helping fix up the bunkhouse and everyone had been celebrating the fact that not only was it mostly complete, but Stone was on the mend and would be home soon.
With the revelry making my ears ache, my eyes stinging from all the smoke, I’d headed outside for a breather and had seen someone sneaking out of the bunkhouses where the girls were living, which, now that I thought about it, I hadn’t investigated further because Indy had pulled up, dragging my attention her way. Of course, her arrival was weird, but weird was a regular occurrence around this place.
I’d figured she was maybe coming to visit Giulia and Nyx, except, she hadn’t. She’d pulled out a bucket of cleaning materials, then, a few steps toward the bunkhouse, she’d tossed a bottle of bleach like she was lobbing a softball. It had gone sailing through the air before it collided with a wet thud as it exploded on the ground.
Cruz : A Dark MC Romance (A Dark and Dirty Sinners’ MC Book 5) Page 1
