Loving Crow (Unsaintly Kings MC Book 1)

by A. Lynn

  “That’s not what he was saying last night,” she singsongs.

  “That’s bullshit, I don’t believe you,” I say and go to walk past them. “You can miss me with that shit, Cleo.”

  She smiles. “I have proof.”

  “Proof? What proof?”

  “Just these." She turns her phone around to show me a picture.

  It’s of him and her in the shop. She has her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him. His own hands are gripping her waist as they share a kiss.

  Oh, my God. I can't believe he did this to me again. I had just forgiven him for this same shit on Saturday night.

  I slap away a traitorous tear that leaks from my eye without permission and turn to walk away, but Cleo stops me. "There’s more. Four pictures total.” She swipes left once on her gallery and turns her phone around again.

  This picture is of Crow sitting at a table with seven or eight other guys. Cleo has her arm draped over his shoulder and setting a drink on the table. She is bent down saying something to him, but he seems content to look down her shirt if the smile he is sporting is any indication.

  She swipes left again, and now the two of them are arm in arm again walking up a set of stairs.

  The tears are free-flowing down my face now. I'm not even trying to stop them. I look at Cleo and she has this smirk on her face, but I don't think it is happy. It's vengeful and vindictive, sadistic even. It’s like she is getting off on my pain.

  She swipes to the next picture and my eyes are drawn there before I can make them stop. This picture is the worst, by far. In this one, a very naked Cleo is sleeping on Crow’s chest and his arms are around her. The room is lit up with morning light, so it is an easy assumption that they spent the night together. My heart has been punctured and I am bleeding out while she stares at me with a victorious smile on her stupid fucking face.

  I grab her phone from her hand and send those four pictures to myself.

  “What are you doing, bitch? Give it back,” she demands.

  So I do just that. I Frisbee toss that shit back to her and she misses it. I take satisfaction in the sounds of breaking glass that ring out. “You know, for someone who has balls flying at her face all the time, with multiple men, I would have thought that your hand-eye coordination would be better than that."

  “Fuck you, bitch! You’re just mad he chose me. Stay the fuck away from Crow, he's mine. It was a just game that he was playing with you," she laughs. "What the hell would he want with a single mother? Bitch, please. You ain’t even that pretty. I do things for him that you couldn’t even imagine.”

  “It's the same things you do for his brothers, too, right? You are right about that."

  “You think you are better than me? You ain’t shit, Reagan.”

  “I don't think it, I know I am. Because I'm not a whore—you know, like you are." My broken heart is only feeding the anger I have had inside me for the last couple of months, so when this stupid bitch raises her hand like she is going to smack me, I smile and wait. When she is close enough I grab her wrist and ask, “You were going to smack me? Really bitch? What are you ten? You probably want to have a sleepover and paint our nails, too, huh?"

  She tries to get her wrist free and shouts, “Fuck off, Reagan! Keep fucking with me and I will slit your goddamn throat!"

  “No, you can fuck off! You can have Crow, too. He was the one chasing, not me.”

  “He sure wasn’t chasing you last night when he was digging in my guts!”

  I see red. “Fuck you, you stupid fucking whore,” I yell just before I drive my fist into her face one, two, three times. I would have gone for more but she hit the floor. “Take him! I’m fucking done!”

  “What the hell is going on out here?” Stella stands there with her hands on her hips.

  “She fucking hit me, Stella,” the whore whines.

  Stella looks at me. "Rea, did you hit her?"

  “I sure as fuck did.”

  “Son of a bitch, you both know this can’t happen. We are running a business here. What am I supposed to do here?”

  “Fire her, Stella. You have a zero-tolerance policy for violence."

  “You came at me first, bitch, I was just defending myself."

  "I didn't come at you first, you fucking liar!"

  I give her the finger and turn to Stella, “Ask Lexi. She was standing there the whole time.”

  “Lexi, choose your words wisely. Did Cleo come at Rea first?”

  Lexi looks in Cleo’s direction and says, “I’m sorry, Cleo, I need this job, I told you to quit, but you wouldn’t. You just couldn’t leave Reagan be.”

  “Weak ass bitch,” replies Cleo.

  Lexi looks at me and then tells Stella, "Cleo started it. She just kept pushing and pushing until she snapped."

  Stella looks at me. "What was it that set you off?" I thin my lip and look at the floor refusing to answer. She looks back at Lexi, "Do you know why?"

  She nods, “Cleo sl—”

  “Shut up! Fucking narc,” Cleo growls.

  Stella pins Cleo with a glare, making her shut the fuck up and look at the floor. “Continue, Lexi.”

  “Cleo slept with Crow last night.”

  “Reagan, my office, NOW!”

  My head snaps back at her tone, but I follow her to the office and accept my fate. She closes the door and leans her back against it, “You know he didn’t do that to you right?”

  “No, he did.”

  “Rea,” she sighs and tries to find her words. “I know him, he would never do something like that to you. I’m pretty sure he’s in love with you.”

  “Do you know why we got into it on Saturday?” She shakes her head, so I continue, “When I left the salon because Ryan had hurt Jordan, Cleo and Crow were in the same position as they were in one of the photos.”

  “Photos? What photos?”

  I laugh sardonically and pull them up from my text messages and show the one in the shop first. “This was how I found them Saturday.”

  "Damn it, Crow. What the fuck was he thinking?"

  “Clearly not about me,” I shrug. “There are three more pictures.”

  She takes my phone and swipes through them and when she gasps loudly I know she has reached the final photo. The nail in the casket that was our relationship.

  “Reagan, I’m so sorry. My son is an idiot, but please let him explain himself.”

  “I’ll try.” That lie burnt my tongue. I can’t believe she is asking this of me. Girl code states that it is “Chicks before Dicks,” so I must have missed a disclaimer somewhere that says “Chicks before Dicks—unless you are related to said dick.”

  I check the time and see that it is almost 9:30, “Shit, Stella I got to go.”

  “You said you wouldn’t quit.”

  “And I haven’t. I just need a couple of days to get my shit together.”

  “I can do that, but please come back. Please.”

  “I will.” I turn to leave but stop at the door and ask over my shoulder, “What’s going to happen with Cleo?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I want to talk to Crow before I make a decision. Something isn’t right here, Rea.”

  “It really doesn’t make a difference to me, either way. I will hear him out, but it won’t change anything. I’m done. This is the second time in as many days… I won't do this again. I don't care how much I love him, cheating is a deal-breaker for me," I shake my head.

  Those words felt like bile working its way up my throat.

  Stella follows me out of the office and to the reception desk. It’s probably for the best though, because I still feel the urge to beat the breaks off her.

  “Let's go, Cleo."

  “Where are we going?” The fear in her voice causes me to chuckle.

  “To get ice cream. Where the fuck do you think we're going? To the fucking office." Stella rolls her eyes and points to the back of the salon.

  When they’re out of earshot, Lexi leans toward me and says, �
��I’m sorry she did that, Reagan.”

  “What can you do? A whore is a whore.” She nods. “Can you get in touch with the appointments I have over the next three days and reschedule them or hand them off to Lynna or something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks,” I say and walk out the door.

  It isn’t until I’m in the car that I finally allow myself five minutes to let the emotions out. With tears streaming down my face, I scream at the top of my lungs. I pound my fists on the steering wheel over and over and over in an effort to draw the pain away from my flayed heart to my hands. But it's to no avail. I should have known it wouldn’t though.

  My heart hurts so bad. It feels like that ZAYN and Taylor swift song about dodging bullets or losing the love of your life. I truly feel as if it's going to be the latter, and it cuts me anew.

  I start my car and head to the only person who has never let me down. The one who means everything. My baby boy.

  When I pull up to the curb J comes running out screaming, “Hi, Cwow! Cwow!”

  I open the door and Jordan jumps in to get to Crow faster, but when he gets in and sees only me, his face falls. “Wea? You’s doing hewe?”

  “I’m sorry, baby. He couldn’t make it this morning, but he did tell me to tell you to have a good time.

  "Otay," he says sadly.

  I pull him into my arms and he wraps around me before I get out of the car. Sasha comes out on the porch with a concerned look. “I thought Crow was taking us to the airport?”

  I smile through the pain and say, “Something came up and he was unable to get away.”

  On the drive home I decided to stop at a liquor store, because why the fuck not? I am going home to an empty house, after all. Add in the fact that my phone has been blowing up nonstop since I left the airport, and I’m thinking it is a pretty fucking awesome idea.

  I pull into a parking space and read his messages.

  Crow: Baby, I’m sorry I didn’t come home. I don’t know what happened.

  Crow: Please talk to me, baby.

  Crow: I love you so much.

  Crow: I would never choose anyone over you.

  Crow: Please answer your phone.

  Crow: Fuck, Cleo.

  I have to laugh at that one because that's exactly what he did.

  Crow: Please, my love.

  Crow: Tell me what to do, baby, and I’ll do it.

  Crow: I love you, baby. Only you.

  Crow: Where are you? I need to see you.

  Crow: I’m at your place.

  Crow: I'll wait here for you.

  Crow: Ok, baby?

  I roll my eyes at his fake ass pleading and head into the liquor store. I already have a fifth of Amaretto in my basket, now all I need is some sweet and sour. I start back down the aisle to get to the other side of the store when someone steps right in my path.

  “Reagan, right?”

  I look up at the voice’s face and my heart skips a beat. It’s the fucking cabby. I take a breath and swallow my nerves and say, “I’m sorry, have we met?”

  He chuckles but his eyes flare. "A few times, yeah. The names Terry."

  “I’m sorry, that isn’t ringing any bells. Are you sure we have met before?”

  “You’re Reagan, right?”

  “Yes, that’s my name.”

  “Yes, I’m sure we have met before. It’s not like I’m some sort of stalker or something.” He laughs loudly.

  I swallow again and force a chuckle. "Of course not! But if you will excuse me, Terry, someone is waiting for me at my house."

  “Oh, sorry,” he says and steps aside. “I’ll see you around.”

  Why did that feel like a threat? “Uh, sure,” I say and walk to the other side of the store quickly. But when I turn around, I don't see Terry in the store anywhere. Like it was a figment of my imagination.

  It feels like I don't take another breath until I pull into my driveway.

  I hop out of my car and walk as fast as I can to my door while keeping my eyes over my shoulder. Until I walk into a very hard body, causing me to shriek.

  “Whoa, baby. You okay?”

  Fucking Crow… of course it is. I lace my voice with venom and demand, “What in the actual fuck are you doing here?”

  “I was waiting for you,” he says like I’m dense or some shit.

  “Yeah, asshole, I gathered that much,” I seethe and roll my eyes. “Why are you here?”

  “This is where you are. I needed to see you before I left for the run.”

  “Huh, I was here last night, too, you know. And so was a three-year-old who sat by the window until he fell asleep waiting for you."

  “I know. I’m sorry,” he sighs. “What do you want me to do here, baby?”

  “I am not your fucking baby. Quit fucking saying it.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Agree to disagree. You know what I find so funny about all of this?”

  He whispers, “What?”

  “That not even two days ago she came between us and I forgave you. You remember? You promising that shit wouldn't happen again," I break off in hysterics.

  “That’s not funny.”

  I sober instantly. "No? Maybe what I find so funny is that you didn’t just kiss her this time,” I wipe a tear from my cheek before I continue, “you fucked her.”

  “Ba—” I glare. “Reagan,” he amends but doesn’t continue.

  "Reagan, what? Might as well say what you need to." I shrug and wait. He doesn't say anything, so I do. "Tell me something, Crow. Why aren’t you trying to deny it?”

  “Because it will just make you madder. When Pop woke me up, he showed me the pictures. I don't remember what happened, but they were pretty damning."

  “How considerate of you, protecting my feelings and all,” I mock. “Oh, and thanks for taking J and Sasha to the airport, too.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry. My phone wasn’t on when I woke up. It didn’t even occur to me.”

  “Why would it? They’re, no we’re, of no importance to you. You fucked me, Crow, it's what you wanted from day one, now leave me alone."

  “You are the most important person in my life.”

  “I’m not just one person, I told you from the start that I was a package deal. This is the exact reason I have been celibate since he was born. I can’t afford for him to get attached to someone just for them to leave. I’m not mad at you about that though, I take full responsibility. I knew better. He needs stability, and that isn’t you, Crow. His mom already plays the disappearing act and—” he cuts me off.

  “Please tell me how to fix this. Please, baby. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “I'm sorry, Crow—no, I'm not sorry, but there is no way to fix this. Cheating is a deal-breaker for me, my heart be damned," I shrug. "I need for you to leave now and not come back. I don't want to see you again. A clean break is what will be best for the three of us."

  “Baby, no,” he gasps. “Please, don’t do this to us.”

  My anger has faded and all that remains is an exhausted resignation. “I didn’t do this to us, Crow. You did,” I say as I walk around him and to the stairs that lead to the front door.

  “But… Reagan, I love you,” he says as he grabs my wrist.

  I turn towards him. “And I love you. That isn’t the problem. You being with other girls is.”

  “Baby,” he says brokenly. It cuts into my heart a little more, pushing me up on my tiptoes to press my lips to his cheek. He bands his arms around my back and buries his head in my neck. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

  “I know,” I reply through a lump that has lodged itself in my throat. “Goodbye, Crow. Be safe on your run.”

  “I will, baby,” he says before pressing his lips to my forehead. “I love you.”

  I don’t say it back this time. I wait for him to get on his bike before I go into my house and completely lose my shit.

  At some point, I must have fallen asleep, because I wake up on the couch with a kink
in my neck—in a completely dark house. Someone is banging on the door, which is probably what woke me up. Inconsiderate assholes! Don't they know I'm in mourning in here?

  “I’m coming! Sheesh, hold your fucking horses.” The pounding continues right up until I unlock the deadbolt and slide the chain off. “Where is the fucking,” I start loudly but finish softly, “fire?”

  “In my son's pants, it would seem," Colt says, making me chuckle.

  Stella looks at me with a sad, yet saccharine smile. “May we come in?”

  “Of course," I say, opening the door wide enough for them to pass then lead them to the living room. "What brings you all out?"

  “Crow is worried about you,” she shrugs. “His head needs to be focused on the run, so I told him we would stop by and check on you.”

  “That’s nice of you,” I say. “But unnecessary.”

  “Well, we're here now," Colt states.

  “Can I get either of you a drink?”

  “No, thanks," Colt answers.

  "I just wanted you to know a few things."

  I can’t read him to see where he is going with this so I just nod.

  “Crow doesn’t remember anything about last night,” he pauses.

  I raise my hand to stop him. "With all due respect, I don't want to talk about him. We had our talk earlier and parted ways. Nothing is going to change for me."

  “Reagan, you have to listen to reason,” Stella says.

  “And why is that? I talked to him like you asked—which was a fucked up thing to ask of me in the first place—but he had no answers to give me.”

  “And that right there is the point, Reagan,” Colt says.

  “I don’t follow.”

  “The guys he was playing cards with last night said they only saw him drink three or four drinks. My son has a high tolerance for beer, he may have been good and buzzed, but he wouldn’t have been that out of it.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “All I’m saying is that Cleo kept pushing beers on him without the previous being empty,” he stops.

  “So after you left this morning I called and had Skylar meet her father at the clubhouse and draw some blood. Those pictures were not my son,” Stella declares.

  “It had to be a setup, though. Don’t you see it?”