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

by St. James, Jeanne

  “Gonna hurt. Can’t do nothin’ ‘bout it. Wish there was. If I could take the pain instead of you, I would.”

  He probably would. He was the kind of man who wouldn’t want anyone else to needlessly suffer who didn’t deserve it. But someone who deserved it... Hell yes, he’d want them to suffer greatly.

  This morning over breakfast, he had talked about Pierce, getting her up to speed on everything that had come to light after Brooke came to Shadow Valley looking for her father. His eyes, normally warm and intense, had become absolutely frigid. Scary even. She’d never seen him like that before.

  His tone was stone cold when he told her about Kelsea, Brooke’s mother, Diamond, Pierce’s involvement with the Warriors, and the asshole setting up Z to go to prison.

  Jazz had a hard time wrapping her head around everything that bastard had done. She was relieved that the cancer that ate away at the club from the inside was finally excised.

  But her relief was short lived when he got up from the table and walked out of the house, disappearing for a good hour.

  She wasn’t sure where he went. She didn’t see him in the woods behind the house, but there could be a path that he walked regularly through the trees. More likely he’d gone next door. To Diamond.

  It shouldn’t bother her. She had no reason to be jealous. Diamond was a club sister and Slade’s ol’ lady. She was even carrying Slade’s baby. But Crow going to Di did bother her.

  He had no ol’ lady, not even a permanent piece, when Jazz first met him and even during the almost four years she remained in Shadow Valley. And almost six years later, he had none now. He was well into his fortieth year and remained free and his own man.

  She was sure he’d had plenty of women over the years, but no one who stuck.

  Maybe he just liked being a free spirit. Living life as he wanted. That would make sense for a man like Crow.

  “Gonna clean up before my first job walks in. Gonna be a long day. Diamond will pick you up later an’ take you home, if you want. Plan on bein’ here until midnight.”

  Home.

  It probably meant nothing to him to say that. But to her...

  It was best not to read into his words, so she could avoid disappointment later if he shot her down.

  She decided to start with emptying the trash while he worked on rewrapping his tattoo chair in fresh plastic. Who would have thought that tattooing created so much garbage?

  If she didn’t keep herself busy, she’d just sit there and watch him like a stalker all day. And he might find that a little creepy.

  With a groan of discomfort from the fresh ink, she snagged the overflowing can by his drawing table and he murmured something about a dumpster being behind the building. He also warned her to wedge the back door open, so she wouldn’t lock herself out.

  Carrying the can, she moved down the short hallway, peeking into the bathroom as she went. She wrinkled her nose since what she saw was absolutely gross. She headed back through an open space that held a copier and a bunch of supplies until she spotted the back door tucked between some overflowing shelves. She made a mental note to organize things better for him in the back right after she tackled the bathroom with rubber gloves, nose plugs, and a huge bottle of bleach.

  She stuck a block of wood between the door and the jamb and headed out back into the sunny, but mild, spring weather. The light breeze caught a few of the balled-up sketches off the top of the pile and blew them into the alley. She quickly put the can down and grabbed the fallen crumpled balls of paper. When she picked them up, she noticed whatever he drew on the paper was colorful. Like her proposed tattoo.

  As she walked back to the dumpster, she opened up the first one and saw it was a sketch of her tattoo. Similar, but not exact. She smoothed out the other ball and found another version. She tossed them into the dumpster and then began to pick the wads of sketch paper out of the can one by one, opening up each one and inspecting them all.

  He did spend hours and hours.

  All for her. All those hours he worked diligently on making her the perfect tattoo. Hours he would never get compensated for.

  Just for her.

  To make her feel beautiful and whole again. To give her a new beginning. A fresh start.

  He had gone through so many different ideas before deciding on what he did. She appreciated how hard he had worked. How dedicated he’d been to make it just right.

  Perfect for her.

  And he hadn’t said much about it. He just did it without complaint or any expected kudos. No matter what, she had to find a way to thank him. To show him how much she appreciated everything he was doing for her. And would do for her, if he agreed.

  She hated throwing all of his sketches out, so she saved a couple of them and brought them back inside, hiding them behind some reams of tracing and copy paper. Then she headed back into the shop with the now empty can.

  She slid to a stop when she heard the voice first. Then saw the bulk next.

  Diesel was hard to miss. He took up a lot of space and, even more than his size, his presence was commanding.

  His shoulders pulled back and straightened as he turned his head slowly to look over, his brown eyes following the direction where Crow’s had landed.

  Which was on her.

  Fuck.

  Now the Angels’ enforcer knew she was back. She closed her eyes and blew out a ragged breath.

  She hadn’t seen D since that single time he peeked into her hospital room. His face hard and scary as he had taken in her injuries and state of mind. But that day he had remained silent and so had she.

  He had been the first on scene in that abandoned house. Doing the job of the club’s Sergeant at Arms and doing it well.

  She doubted that he was one of Crow’s appointments today, since Crow knew she wanted to keep her arrival back in town on the D.L. and he would never purposely out her like that.

  “Shit,” she muttered under her breath as D stared at her, his face a blank slate.

  Becoming a father had not made Diesel any less intimidating. If his fury happened to be directed at you, you would most likely shit your pants. His fists, which had the letters D-I-R-T-Y A-N-G-E-L tattooed on each finger could be considered deadly weapons.

  While the man might look dumb, he was anything but. No, Diesel looked like a meathead, but was wicked smart.

  Even so, she wasn’t ready to run into him. He had seen her at her most vulnerable. Naked, bleeding, abused, and totally destroyed inside and out.

  “What the fuck did you do to your hair!” he bellowed as he completely turned to face her. That’s when she realized he had a baby in his arms. A baby that looked like a tiny, breakable doll in his thick, heavily muscled, heavily tattooed arms.

  She wasn’t sure if she should run and hide or face him head-on.

  Her first instinct was to run and hide, but the second one was part of being an adult. And, anyway, it wasn’t like he’d forget that he saw her anytime soon.

  She blew out a breath and moved forward. “Is that your daughter?” she asked even though it obviously was. What mother would allow a beast like Diesel to hold their child besides Jewel?

  Crow stepped between them, catching her gaze. His eyes said a lot more than his words. “That’s Indigo. The latest.”

  “And last,” D grunted.

  Crow’s lips twitched and the lines around his eyes crinkled.

  “It’s hard to believe two girls came from your loins,” she said, trying to lighten the mood as she moved forward, her eyes on what looked like a baby only a few months old. She had thick dark hair like both of her parents. A little pink bow-shaped mouth curved as she blinked pretty blue eyes at Jazz. “Can I hold her?”

  Crow snorted behind her and Jazz shot him a glance over her shoulder. With a hand on his hip, he had his head tipped down and was shaking it. She had no idea why he thought her request was funny.

  D glanced down at his youngest daughter and tightened the grip on her, ignoring Jazz’s re
quest.

  She assumed that was a big fat no.

  Which also surprised Jazz. She figured D would leave the parenting of his girls to Jewel. However, it seemed he was a hands-on father.

  But then his big body jerked, and his arms extended, offering his youngest daughter to Jazz.

  She stepped forward and carefully took the baby from his arms, Indigo’s blue eyes blinking up at her father first, almost as if in surprise, then her gaze fell on Jazz’s face and she let out a soft grunt.

  Like father, like daughter.

  But at least she wasn’t crying. Indigo’s little hand fisted Jazz’s hair and jerked. Then she smiled.

  Jazz returned the smile warmly and whispered, “Hi, Indigo. You’re absolutely precious.”

  Her gaze lifted from the cooing child in her arms to Diesel.

  His jaw was like stone as he stared at his daughter for a moment before his intense dark eyes landed on Jazz, pinning her in place. “When d’you get back?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Grizz know?”

  She gave a quick shake of her head and winced when the handful Indigo had a hold of pulled sharply at her scalp. “No. Not yet. Was trying to fly under the radar.”

  D jerked his head back as he stared at her. “Ain’t gonna happen. Home now. Part of the club. Ain’t gonna hide shit. Got me?”

  “Why?” she asked softly.

  His face got dark as he barked, “Fuckin’ family, woman. Time you got back home where you belong.”

  Jazz quickly glanced down at D’s daughter to make sure his bellow hadn’t upset Indigo. But it hadn’t. Instead her pretty blue eyes were turned to her father and she let out a little laugh. Figures. “My parents live in Buffalo, D. I was raised there.”

  “An’ your fuckin’ grandparents live here. You fuckin’ belong here. No lip.” He took a step forward, pointing a thick index finger in her direction. “That shit fucked Kiki up, fucked Hawk up. Fucked us all up. An’ then you fuckin’ just split. You weren’t the only one that needed to heal.”

  Was he saying it was selfish that she left? “I wasn’t planning on staying in Shadow Valley after I finished school, D. You know that. Hawk knew that. Hell, Grizz and Momma Bear knew that. Maybe no one made that clear to you.”

  “Fuckin’ DAMC, woman. It’s in your blood. How the fuck am I supposed to protect your ass when you’re in another fuckin’ state?”

  Jazz’s chest became tight and the blood rushed into her ears at his words. Her rage, a feeling she fought so hard to keep under control over the years, bubbled to the surface. Before she could rein it in, her heated words escaped, “You didn’t protect me when I lived here!”

  His head jerked back, his nostrils flared, and his face looked as though he saw a ghost.

  “Fuck,” she whispered, then groaned. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  As his face twisted into something she didn’t recognize, he turned and in three long strides he was looking out of the front picture window of the shop. He roared a raw, “FUCK!” and his head dropped low.

  The tension in his body was easy to see from where Jazz stood. She glanced helplessly at Crow but he was turned away as well, his back to her, his hands on his hips.

  Fuck!

  She never should have come home. Never.

  It was a stupid fucking idea!

  She should’ve gotten the tattoo elsewhere, found another man to help her get past her sexual barriers. She should have left well enough alone.

  She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, tried to blink away the hot tears that burned her eyes.

  She began to bounce Indigo in her arms, more to soothe herself than the baby. The baby was fine. Jazz, not so much.

  She should have let them continue to live their lives without bringing back the reminder of what happened. Something that affected the whole club, not just her.

  Her returning only brought back the horrible memories and emphasized the weaknesses of the club when it came to the Warriors.

  Diesel had a lot of responsibility on his broad shoulders. None of what happened to her was his fault. No, it was because of a decades long beef between the two clubs. Something that started way before any of them were born. Somehow they all got pulled into a cluster-fuck that should have died many years ago. But didn’t.

  However, she was sure Diesel bore the burden of what happened to her and his brother’s woman. He might not admit it out loud, but she was pretty damn sure it ate at him deep down inside. And most likely, ate away at him for the last six years.

  He had to live with what he believed was his failure every damn day. She shouldn’t have thrown it in his face.

  She had to live with the result of what the Warriors did to her... every damn day.

  While maybe he didn’t have physical damage like she did, emotionally he did.

  Though it was hard to believe the man had any emotions at all, it was proven time and time again that he did. He’d deny it, but they all knew he cared way too fucking much. He didn’t want that vulnerability to be known because he probably believed it would make him weak.

  Seeing his little girl in his arms drove home the fact that D was, in fact, human. He could suffer greatly like the rest of them.

  And he was probably scared to death what had happened to Jazz and Kiki could happen to his own innocent daughters.

  Having an ol’ lady and two children made him so much more vulnerable to personal attacks by that outlaw club. And until there wasn’t a threat anymore from the Warriors, he probably thought about that every waking moment.

  Because that’s how D’s mind worked.

  He had taken the job of the club’s enforcer all those years ago and taken it seriously. So seriously, he started his security business with hand-picked, well sought-after badass men, who had no problems handling the tasks he required of them.

  D was in charge of protecting the club and its property. Even “property” like the women and children, because in the MC world that’s what they were.

  Claimed property.

  Any ol’ ladies and any children born into the club belonged to the brotherhood. It was an archaic idea, but one that wasn’t changing any time soon.

  But now she stood there in the center of the shop floor, holding D’s daughter, staring at the cut on his back. Colors he wore with pride. A club he would protect to his dying day.

  She was nothing but a reminder of his failure. Property he couldn’t protect.

  She should’ve stayed away.

  Maybe she just needed to get gone.

  Chapter Four

  Crow sighed as he punched the code into the keypad, reactivating the alarm. He wandered down the dark hallway and into the kitchen, where he snagged the Jim Beam out of the cupboard. Not even bothering to grab a glass, he untwisted the cap and took a long swig until his insides warmed as they filled with the liquor.

  He’d gotten through all his clients and, surprisingly, not one of them had cancelled. Which was rare. Because of that, he was getting home later than normal.

  He was tired and spent. Totally fucking torn up.

  Watching Jazz suffer through the outlining of her large tattoo had killed him. He had a difficult time watching her fight against the pain. And then the exchange between her and Diesel had twisted his gut into knots.

  Not much affected the big man, but Crow knew that the club enforcer took any failure at protecting the club, or its property, personally. It was one of the many reasons D had started In the Shadows Security and built it from the ground up to be what it was now.

  Today in his shop, though... When he handed Indie over to Jazz... Crow never expected that. In fact, it floored him. The man never let anyone hold his girls. He was just that intensely protective of them. In fact, a bit on the obsessive side. But when Jazz took Indie in her arms, she missed the expression on D’s face. Crow didn’t.

  Crow had a feeling that letting Jazz hold the baby was a way D could ask for forgiveness without actually asking for it out loud. Th
ough, Jazz might not have picked up on that. She probably had no idea of the impact of that action.

  So, after she snapped at him, it had taken a long time for D to turn around, to get his shit together, to face Jazz again. To look at proof of his failure in the eyes. And when he finally did, he did what D did best. Barked orders. He made it clear that Jazz wasn’t going to hide from everyone while she was in town. She would be on the club run Sunday. She would be at the pig roast afterward.

  She was going to see, what he told her in no uncertain terms, what was her family and wasn’t going to give him shit about it.

  No lip.

  Crow thought about stepping in, defusing the situation, but he agreed with D. To fully heal, Jazz needed to feel the love and support of her DAMC family. She had ignored them all for way too long. However, now she would be forced to deal with it whether she wanted to or not.

  D also had a direct order for Crow. Since she was staying at his house, sleeping in his bed, her ass was going to be on the back of his fucking sled Sunday. No exceptions.

  While D had good intentions, his delivery was a bit lacking. Luckily, Crow saw through his bluster since he’d known the man for what seemed like forever, and he quietly accepted what Diesel wanted.

  If it had been up to him, though, Crow would have avoided the whole confrontation in his shop. He had no idea that D was stopping in because he normally didn’t, but it just so happened he wanted to drop off the copy of Indie’s newborn footprints. He wanted Crow to prepare them for his next tattoo. Since he had Vi’s baby feet tattooed on his ribs along with her birthdate and her name, he wanted Indie’s there, too.

  So now that the cat was out of the bag about Jazz being in Shadow Valley and word would spread, Crow had called Grizz. Momma Bear picked her up and, after a tearful reunion which also knocked the shit out of Crow, took her back to their house so they could spend the day with her. Momma B fussed over making her a good meal since she needed “meat on her bones.” Crow didn’t argue that fact, either. He agreed, Jazz was way too skinny for her frame. Plus, he didn’t want her to be alone since he knew he’d be running late and didn’t want her being home alone too long after her emotional confrontation with Diesel.