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

by St. James, Jeanne

  Hawk rose from the picnic table and wedged himself between them. “Slade, calm the fuck down. It’s harmless.”

  Right. What he did was harmless in Hawk’s eyes, unless it had to do with Jazz.

  “Don’t fuckin’ see him feelin’ up your ol’ lady, Hawk.”

  “He ain’t feelin’ Di up, an’ there’s plenty of times Kiki let him feel the baby move.”

  “He wants to feel a baby move, maybe he should have one of his fuckin’ own,” Slade muttered. He swung on Diamond, pointing at her. “An’ you let ‘im!”

  Crow’s body went tight, but Diamond was smart by keeping both her temper under control and her mouth shut.

  Slade shook his head. “Knew it was trouble, him takin’ the lot next to ours.”

  “Slade...” Diamond murmured.

  Slade lifted a palm to stop her next words and dropped his head to stare at his boots. His chest heaved a couple times, then he looked at Crow. “Gonna tell you again...”

  Suddenly Dirty Deeds got quiet on stage and Crow glanced that way thinking everyone was waiting to see if a fight was about to break out between him and Slade.

  But that wasn’t it at all.

  No. Fucking Jazz was up on stage giving Nash a small smile as she whispered something into his ear.

  Fuck. Crow’s gut twisted. It was Nash.

  Was she suggesting for them to go upstairs together? If so, Nash was nodding at whatever Jazz was saying in his ear.

  Everyone in the courtyard had turned their attention to the quiet stage.

  He plunked his empty beer bottle on the table and quickly pushed to his feet but remained where he was.

  What the fuck was he going to do? Stop her? Discourage her from moving on? Prevent her from finding even a sliver of happiness?

  If she wanted to go upstairs and do Nash up one side and down the other, there was nothing he could fucking do about it. Nothing he should do about it.

  He needed to let her handle moving forward in her own way. It had been six years since that fateful day... She already waited long enough to find some happiness. Long enough to get herself back on track. Even if it was being with Nash for one night. Or however long Nash would tolerate it.

  Nash stepped back from Jazz and circled a hand in the air. The stage lights dimmed.

  Were they cutting this set short, so he could...?

  Crow, once again, stopped himself from rushing to the stage to interfere.

  He was glad he did, because the next thing everyone knew, the Dirty Deeds’ guitarist handed Jazz an acoustic guitar before jumping off the stage. Nash gave her a nod and followed his guitarist as she stepped up to the mic.

  Then she began...

  Jazz stood, lit only by the amber glow of the bonfire, as she began to play her borrowed guitar. Leaning into the microphone, her eyes were closed, her expression pained. He thought he recognized the song, but he wasn’t sure until she actually started singing. Even so, something was different about it...

  It wasn’t fast-paced like the song from the 80’s movie. No. This was slow, raw... haunting... The meaning behind the lyrics sent a chill down Crow’s spine. Like him, everyone remained quiet, frozen in place. Afraid of even the slightest movement.

  Her melodic words swirled around him, sucked him in, swept through his veins as he began to pay attention to each word passing over her lips.

  Crow couldn’t rip his gaze from Jazz when Kiki whispered, “She’s singing Holding Out for a Hero. Not the Bonnie Tyler version, but the version Ella Mae Bowen sings. Oh my Lord, that’s just... beautiful. And so...” Her voice became strangled.

  Crow felt the same tightening in his throat and chest. Every muscle remained frozen, every thought focused solely on Jazz, who stood there pouring out her hurt in a way that affected everyone who watched and listened to her.

  She sang that she was searching for a hero and asked where all the good men have gone. The man she needed had to be strong, sure, and larger than life. A man who was her fantasy but just outside her grasp. Someone who would reach for her through her personal storm and sweep her off her feet.

  Not one person could ignore her deep ache, even if they tried.

  But when she finally opened her eyes and turned so that she faced the pavilion...

  Somehow, even in the dim lighting, she found him.

  Him.

  She was staring directly at him as she sang the chorus, her fingers moving slowly over the guitar strings.

  Fuckin’ Christ.

  He twisted his head to make sure Nash wasn’t standing behind him somewhere. He wasn’t.

  No one was behind him.

  His heart pounded so hard in his chest he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to hear her voice over it.

  Beside him, Diamond murmured, “She’s singing to you, Crow.”

  He finally pulled his gaze from the stage to see Kiki clinging to Hawk’s side, tears sliding down her face. The VP’s arm hung over her shoulders, holding her close. Diamond had moved into Slade’s arms. Her ol’ man had her pulled against him, her head leaning back against his collarbone.

  He returned his attention to the stage.

  Was Diamond right? Was she singing to him? About him? For fuck’s sake, was she expecting him to be her hero?

  Was she still that naïve she could believe someone like him could fix everything that was wrong?

  Him. Who never faced his own painful past. But she wanted him to help her?

  Finally, when the last word drifted off and the last chord strummed, no one said a word, no one moved. Only the crackling of the bonfire rose up around them.

  “Go to her,” Diamond whispered. “Before she sings another song that will even have you guys bawling in your beer.”

  He forced his muscles to unfreeze and turned to Diamond, who gave him an approving nod. Then he glanced at Kiki who also gave him a little nod. At that, Hawk muttered a low, “Fuck.”

  Fuck was right.

  Should he go up on stage and claim her? Is that what she wanted?

  She was so fucking young...

  She wasn’t for him.

  She wasn’t.

  She needed someone her own age or at least closer. She needed to pick up her life where it had left off all those years ago. She needed to finish living out her youth before she settled.

  “Fuckin’ go, dumbass,” Slade muttered.

  Crow’s lips flattened out and he did just that. He went.

  He had no idea what he was going to do. What he was going to say... He’d figure it out when he got there.

  He got to the edge of the stage and hauled his ass up. She hadn’t started a new song yet, instead she waited silently and had watched him approach, uncertainty in her eyes. When he got to her, he took the guitar from her fingers, propped it nearby and then snagged her hand.

  “Goin’ home, Kachina.”

  Chapter Six

  Except for the growl of the straight pipes, the trip home was quiet. Nothing was said as they dismounted from his sled and entered the house.

  Nothing was said as he suddenly stopped, pressed her into the hallway wall with his chest and hips, quickly taking her mouth.

  He expected her to push him away, but she didn’t.

  Fuck no.

  She kissed him like she was drowning, and he was much-needed oxygen.

  He wanted to pull away, take it slow, but she wasn’t allowing that. She took his mouth, their tongues tentatively touching.

  Then he took over by crushing his lips to hers, exploring every part of her mouth. When she made a sound at the back of her throat, he tried to pull away, but she dug her fingers into his braid and kept him right where he was.

  He was torn in two different directions, wanting to toss her over his shoulder and take her immediately to bed or backing off like he told himself he should because he worried about her reaction.

  Though she seemed fine with them kissing, that was all it was.

  Kissing.

  And he wanted to do so much mo
re.

  She might not be able to.

  Her mind might not allow it.

  When he had seen her in that hospital bed, staring at nothing, saying nothing, feeling nothing—just a shell of herself—he knew there had been a break. Her mind had separated and compartmentalized the shit that happened to her, so she could eventually deal with it. Eventually heal.

  He broke the kiss but kept her pinned to the wall. “Kachina,” he breathed.

  “Don’t say no.”

  “Think you expect somethin’ from me I might not be able to give you.”

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t expect anything from you but to be my first.”

  My first.

  The lump in his throat grew. “That’s a gift to give a man you love, Kachina.”

  She said nothing.

  “Why that song, baby? Why that one? Who was that song for?”

  She still didn’t answer.

  He pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “If that song was for me...”

  “They made me feel powerless,” she whispered fiercely. “I never want to feel that way again.”

  Crow closed his eyes, simply breathing her in as she talked. Wishing he could inhale her past, absorb her nightmare. Make her whole again.

  “They took so much from me. They left me empty. Like a husk of my former self. I no longer had anything left to give anyone. I still might not.” Her trembling fingers brushed lightly over his jaw. “I’m afraid I have nothing to give you... But I want to try.”

  “Kachina...”

  “No, Crow, I want to try... with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve always wanted you,” she said on a shaky breath.

  He opened his eyes and pulled back. But he didn’t step away, only leaned back enough to study her face.

  “You treated me like a kid.”

  “No—”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “You were so fuckin’ young. Still are...”

  “I’m a woman, Crow. Far from perfect, but I am. I need to move on. I need my life back or they...”

  Or they won, he finished in his head.

  She was so right.

  Those fucking bastards took so much from her and even though they no longer walked the earth, they still took from her to this day. She needed to shake them loose. Put them totally behind her. Forget about them. Prove that they lost that day, that she was stronger than what they did to her.

  She was a survivor.

  He needed her to be sure. “Don’t you want someone your own age?”

  Her warm fingertips traced over his lips, then down his neck. “I want you... Or I want to try with you.”

  He hated that her gaze dropped to their feet. Her self-esteem, the one thing she had an abundance of all those years ago... Now...

  The badly dyed black hair. The unfeminine way she dressed. She was compensating. Hiding. Or both.

  “I want to try...” She lifted her gaze again. And the plea in her jade-colored eyes got him in the gut. “Please help me try.”

  Fuck. “Don’t want to hurt you, Kachina.”

  “You won’t.”

  No, maybe not physically...

  “Is it because I’m damaged?” she asked on a broken whisper.

  Jesus fuck. She might as well have stabbed him in the heart.

  “Have a hard time not picturin’ you when you were eighteen. Twenty... Hell, twenty-two.”

  “Before I was damaged,” she said.

  “When you were—”

  “Pure.”

  “Fuck, Kachina, never been with a woman who was ‘pure.’ Never cared if a woman was that way. That ain’t it at all.”

  “So, you’re turning me down.” She nodded and turned her face to the side, to avoid his searching gaze once more.

  He had to ask again, “Why me?”

  “If it’s not you, it’ll be no one.”

  That was extreme, and he didn’t like that pressure being put on him.

  “I know you want me.” She reached between them and found the proof. He did his best not to groan when she traced his hard length. “You’re just afraid I’ll freak out. I get it. I won’t.”

  She couldn’t guarantee that.

  “I know you’ll be slow and careful.”

  He didn’t know if he could be that way with her. He was afraid that once he started, he’d take what he wanted. He’d never been with a woman who he’d had to handle delicately. So, fuck yeah, he was afraid.

  He also worried about if he was inside her and she froze, said no, stopped him in the middle of what she asked for... he’d be devastated.

  If she wanted him to make her his, then he wanted her completely his. Not partway.

  But he was willing to take his time, be who she wanted him to be to get there.

  Because if he was doing this, he was all in.

  And she needed to know that.

  “Kachina, gotta promise me somethin’.”

  She turned her head again until she met his gaze. “What?”

  “Gotta promise to tell me what’s goin’ on in your head. Need to tell me to slow down, need to tell me to stop, make sure I hear you.”

  Her lips curled up softly at the corners. “I can do that.”

  “You like somethin’, you tell me. Don’t fuckin’ retreat into your head, either way. I won’t know what’s goin’ the fuck on if you do.”

  “I can do that, too.” Her words were breathy, and her eyelids dropped low. A flush ran up her neck into her cheeks. It brought some color to the paleness of her skin.

  “One more thing,” he started.

  “What?”

  “Want you as Jazz. Not what you’re showin’ the rest of the world. Want your hair back to your natural color, none of that thick makeup, want you to dress like you should. No hidin’. Got a deal?”

  She hesitated too long for his liking. “Deal.”

  “An’ when your tat’s done, we’re done. Want you to find someone your own age.” She needed to go back to living her life as if it had never paused.

  The jerk of her body told him she wasn’t expecting that last part. Her sensuous look turned to surprised.

  “Plenty of good men out there that’ll be good with you, got me? Someone you can marry, have kids with. Build a family. Want you in Shadow Valley, but want you to find happiness, even if that means somewhere else.”

  “Crow...”

  He shook his head. “That’s the deal. Want me to be your first, then you gotta agree. Doin’ this for you, all for you. An’ only want what’s best for you, Kachina. Need to hear you agree to that.”

  “Crow,” she repeated his name in a pained whisper.

  “No, ain’t doin’ it if you don’t agree.”

  She closed her eyes, turned away again and a few heartbeats later, he almost didn’t hear her answer. “Okay.”

  Once again, he was torn. Deep down he didn’t want her to agree with that last part but he’d backed her into a corner. It was one way to make sure she didn’t regret the decision she was making by wanting him to be her first.

  Fuck yeah, he was torn, because he knew once he had her, he wasn’t going to agree with that.

  Not at all.

  * * *

  “Kachina, talk to me.”

  His low, silky voice washed over her, his warm breath swept over her heated skin.

  “I’m... good. You’re... good.”

  Oh hell yes, he was good. Just like she thought, he took his time, talking to her, touching her lightly here and there. Experimenting with her, judging her reactions.

  She wanted to simply close her eyes and let him do his thing. But no...

  He wanted her to communicate everything she was feeling.

  However, that was difficult. Because she wasn’t sure sometimes. She’d never before experienced the pleasure he was creating.

  And not by fucking her.

  No.

  They hadn’t even gotten that far yet. An hour later, and he w
as still simply exploring her naked body. Every crevice, curve, and plane. With his fingers, his lips, his tongue. Kisses, licks and touches.

  He moved so slowly sometimes, she wanted to scream.

  It was one thing to be cautious, it was another to be as slow as a snail.

  “More... faster...” she groaned.

  He’d avoided the areas where she wanted him to touch the most. Her nipples were pebbled so hard that they hurt. The only thing that was going to take that pain away was his mouth or fingers... Or...

  Another place she wanted him to touch... below her unfinished tattoo. An unfamiliar ache had settled at her core and she wanted him to relieve that, too.

  But he didn’t.

  And she was about to scream “stop” but not for the reason he’d think.

  He was torturing her. She wasn’t sure she could take much more.

  “Crow, youuuuu...”

  “Tell me, Kachina.”

  “You...”

  “Tell me,” he murmured against the curve of her breast as his long, warm fingers trailed lightly over her belly, but avoided her fresh tattoo.

  “You need to... touch me...” Goosebumps broke out all over her body.

  “Where? Where do you want me to touch you?”

  “Everywhere.”

  “No, wanna hear exactly where you want me to touch you.”

  “There.”

  “Where?”

  As she blew out a breath, her head rolled back on the pillow and her eyes rolled in the same direction. “Down there.”

  “Show me.” He was now kissing along her shoulders, over her collarbones, the hollow of her neck.

  “I... I can’t.”

  “You can, baby. Show me what you want.”

  She blindly reached out for him, finding his braid, shoulder, then elbow, before sliding her hand down to his, interlacing their fingers and guiding him to the exact spot she wanted him to touch. Where she ached so deeply for him. With her hand controlling his, she tucked his middle finger into her cleft where she found herself slick and hot.

  Was she going to have to do everything for him?

  “Please,” she moaned. She didn’t know what to tell him. He was the experienced one, not her.

  She tried to disengage her fingers from his, but he kept her there. Kept her with him, she was touching herself as he did. He slipped their fingers between her folds and stroked her lightly, gently touching her clit with his thumb. He pressed, circled, and teased.