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

by St. James, Jeanne

  Not it. Him.

  A man, she had no idea who, was tied to a metal chair. A bright light was shining in the man’s face or would be if his head wasn’t hanging low.

  She might not know his name, might not know what he had done to deserve what he had been through recently, from how fresh some of his wounds looked, and what he would go through in the near future. But she had a really good fucking idea on who he belonged to.

  Or what.

  Plastic sheeting was spread under the chair and covered a good perimeter of the floor around where he was restrained.

  Easy clean-up. Which meant the two men who were standing in the open area of the warehouse with her expected things to get messy.

  Mercy being one. The other, Mercy introduced as Steel. Steel had his knuckles wrapped in tape like a prize fighter. Or an MMA competitor. He was solid and had bulging muscles under a drab olive tank top that looked a bit snug on him. Jazz didn’t expect that the man needed any weapons other than those fists to cause a lot of damage to the unfortunate receiver.

  She had a feeling this Steel remembered her well. Though she didn’t remember him at all. Just like she hadn’t remembered Mercy.

  She let her gaze slide from Steel, who stood with his bloody fists clenched by his sides, to the man in the chair.

  “Why?” she whispered to Mercy. “Why am I here?”

  “Think he’s the last one.”

  The last one. Impossible. They were like roaches. Just when you thought there was only one, there were hundreds more hiding in the walls waiting to come out when the lights were off.

  “How do you know?”

  Mercy didn’t answer her, instead just stared at the man bound to the metal chair with a look on his face that scared the shit out of her. She was glad it wasn’t directed at her. As a shiver slid down her spine, she wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Was he there?” As far as she knew it was only Squirrel and Black Jack that day. Though, maybe more Warriors showed up once she was floating in and out of consciousness?

  Holy shit, if that was true...

  “No.”

  Then this made no sense. For him to bring her here. For her to stand in judgement of the man before her. For her to witness what they might... no, would... do to him.

  Was this display solely for her? “What did he do?”

  Mercy’s gray eyes dropped to her. “He didn’t do shit.”

  “He didn’t do shit? You’re going to... whatever you’re going to do... over nothing?”

  “Baby.”

  She lost her breath when he called her that. Was this all a weird way he was trying to woo her?

  Who in their right mind did things like this?

  With a determined stride, Steel approached her, “He didn’t do shit ‘cause he didn’t get a chance to do it,” holding something in his red-tinged fingers. She recoiled back unsure on what it was.

  Then it became clear. A cell phone.

  Or was it a bomb that looked like a cell phone?

  No, stupid. He wouldn’t be holding it or offering it to her if it was.

  “He’s going to die because of the cut on his back and a phone?”

  Steel hit the power button and jabbed at the screen a couple times. He began to swipe his finger across the phone and turned it after each swipe so she could see photos. And not just one, either. Horror clawed at her throat.

  Even scarier, he didn’t have to even say a fucking word. Not one.

  Because every fucking one of those pictures was of a child. Taken from a distance. Clearly taken without them knowing.

  In every single one of those photos was a DAMC kid.

  Her mind began to spin.

  Every member of the fourth generation had been photographed.

  Violet. Indigo. Zeke. Zane. Ashton. Alexis. Lily. Emmalee.

  Her blood turned to ice with each swipe of his finger. A chill skittered down her spine. “Why?” she whispered, staring up at Steel when he was done. “Why?” she repeated when he didn’t answer. “Why?” She glanced at the man restrained to the chair. A man whose future had been already written the second he snapped those photos.

  A man who had no qualms on doing something evil to children. Babies. Innocents to what started out as a turf war decades ago.

  For what?

  “Why?” she asked again as her feet carried her closer to that occupied chair. With every step she took, she began to scream, “Why?” over and over, her unnaturally shrill voice filling the large cavernous area. Echoing off the bare metal walls. Making her own ears ring.

  “Why!” she screamed until her throat was sore. And she continued to scream it until her voice was raw and hoarse and her mind became numb.

  Then she was on him. The Warrior tied to the chair. She was beating him with her fists about the head and shoulders. She couldn’t stop herself, she couldn’t stop asking her question. The only question she wanted an answer to.

  Why?

  Why did humans do this to each other?

  Why did they have to hurt each other like that?

  Why were they so evil?

  Those children were innocent. Nothing but babies. They shouldn’t be targets.

  Shouldn’t be involved in a grudge that should have died so long ago.

  But they kept it alive all of these years. Why?

  She kept striking out at the man until she could no longer feel anything. She couldn’t feel her hands. She couldn’t feel her heart. She couldn’t feel her soul.

  Then arms were around her. Tight. Pulling her away.

  A mouth was to her ear. Murmuring.

  She had no idea what.

  She had no idea who.

  She couldn’t tear her eyes from the man in that chair. The man who wanted to hurt those kids.

  The man who wanted to hurt the parents who loved them by doing something horrendous and unthinkable to their children.

  The man who would do it with no regret.

  She no longer cared what Mercy and Steel did to him.

  Just like she didn’t care what they had done to Squirrel and Black Jack.

  By taking those photos, he had sealed his fate.

  By taking her and Kiki, they had sealed their fate.

  They made a choice and they had to live with the consequences.

  She didn’t get a choice; hers had been stripped from her against her will.

  Those children didn’t get a choice. They didn’t pose for those pictures. They didn’t decide to be a target.

  Thank fuck they had found this man, who was now tied like an animal to a metal chair surrounded by plastic in that big warehouse, before he could carry out his plan.

  Thank fuck they had discovered his malicious intent before it was unleashed.

  And she only hoped to hell they were right. That the man before her was the last of them.

  May they all burn for eternity in a hell they created.

  Her heels were being dragged along the floor as the distance grew between her and the unnamed Warrior.

  But she couldn’t stop staring at him. She’d never forget what evil looked like.

  His head was no longer hanging low but was raised slightly, blood trickling from scratches and cuts on his face, as he watched her be hauled away. To a safe distance.

  Safe for the Warrior who she wanted to kill with her own hands. She would have broken every bone in those hands in an attempt to end his life.

  The arms around her were like a vice, squeezing the breath from her. And she couldn’t catch it. She could no longer breathe. The low words in her ear were just white noise. She had no idea what or who.

  But then she heard one thing.

  Diesel.

  Roaring, “Office! Now!”

  When she was picked up and carried, she looked up and her haze cleared enough to see who it was.

  The sharp angles of his hairless face, his broad nose, his onyx eyes, the angry set of his jaw.

  He was carrying her down a narrow hallway, and she je
rked in his arms when he kicked a door open with a violent bang, before striding out into the warm night to a car in the parking lot. She numbly watched as Diamond scrambled out of her sports car and ran around to the passenger side, opening the door.

  “Get ‘er home. Stay with her ‘til I get there. Got me?”

  “Yeah.”

  Then she was being placed in the passenger seat, strapped in and the door slammed shut. The locks clicked loudly, breaking the silence before the noise of the Nissan’s engine filled the compact space.

  And if Diamond spoke to her on the way back to the compound, back to Crow’s house, Jazz had no idea what she said.

  All she could see was that man tied to the chair and those pictures on his phone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fury licked at him. Fueled him. He was a time bomb waiting to explode.

  He felt the need to prowl the room, to burn off some energy. But he couldn’t because Steel blocked his path.

  The man stood like an impenetrable wall between him and Mercy.

  Crow couldn’t take Mercy, but he sure as fuck could try.

  And win or lose, he was pretty fucking sure he’d feel better afterward.

  He had gotten to the warehouse too late to shield Jazz from what she saw. But he had gotten there just in time to shove Mercy out of the way and to pull Jazz away from that Warrior during her meltdown before that motherfucker could.

  Because, for fuck’s sake, if he’d seen her wrapped in Mercy’s arms, he would have...

  He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes and filled his lungs deeply, attempting to tamp down his rage.

  Because that’s what it was. Pure fucking rage. Nothing more.

  When Diamond called to tell him Mercy was on his deck, at his house, talking once again to his woman...

  He got angry.

  He had no business being jealous because she didn’t belong to him. Truth was, she didn’t owe him any kind of fucking explanation as to why she was talking to Mercy.

  Mercy was simply making a play. Crow knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

  Or at least, he didn’t think so until he walked into D’s warehouse and witnessed what he did.

  Then he knew, at that very moment, Mercy was out of his fucking mind.

  There was no other explanation for bringing Jazz there, for bringing her in front of a Warrior.

  There was no good excuse for any of it.

  Diesel needed to get his men in order. Because what Mercy did was unacceptable.

  Crow might be furious, but Diesel was like a raging bull, pounding his fist on his desk, causing the items on the top of it to go airborne. His face was a reddish-purple and his finger was pointing at them as he shouted at both Mercy and Steel. If that finger had been loaded, they’d both be on the floor bleeding out. Every jab of his index finger in their direction was accompanied by spit spraying all over his desk.

  Crow had tuned all that shit out. He just hoped Diesel was firing their asses for doing something so goddamned stupid.

  He couldn’t get the picture of Jazz attacking that outlaw biker with her bare hands and screaming uncontrollably at the top of her lungs out of his head. Repeating “Why?” over and over.

  It fucking broke Crow’s heart, then that crack filled with anger.

  He’d worked hard the last couple weeks on getting Jazz past some of her issues. And what Mercy pulled might have set her back.

  Steel was watching Diesel lose his shit.

  Now was his chance.

  Shoving Steel aside was like trying to push a mountain, but he slipped around him and launched himself at Mercy.

  Mercy took Crow to the ground with him when he lost his balance. Before Crow could get to his feet, a large hand had him by the throat and he found himself slammed into the wall.

  Diesel’s face was in his, his fury now directed at him.

  “Out!” Diesel bellowed. “Get gone! Take that fuckin’ trash with you an’ fuckin’ dispose of it. Out! Now! Before you both find yourselves un-fuckin’-employed.”

  Crow couldn’t see past Diesel’s bulk, and the brother remained in his face, almost nose to nose with nostrils flaring, until they both heard the door shut.

  “Gonna release you. Need to keep your shit together. Fuckin’ stupid to try to take on Mercy. Just motherfuckin’ stupid. He’d have your fuckin’ neck snapped in the span of a cunt hair. Ain’t no good to Jazz dead. Got me?”

  “Motherfucker needs a lesson.”

  “Yeah, an’ that fuckin’ lesson ain’t comin’ from you. Got me?” he roared in Crow’s face. Diesel sucked in an audible breath through those flaring nostrils and then softened the grip on Crow’s neck. “Ain’t leavin’ this room ‘til I say so. Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Diesel finally let him go and stepped back, watching Crow carefully. “What the fuck, brother?” He shook his head and took one more step back but stayed between Crow and the door. “What he did was fuckin’ stupid. Get that. But what you did was worse. Ain’t doin’ anyone any good by havin’ Mercy take you out in self-defense.”

  “You see her?”

  As Diesel’s coloring returned to normal, his guarded expression slipped back into place. “Yeah. Saw her. Ain’t good. Gonna have a word with ‘im.”

  “That means you didn’t approve of that fuckin’ stunt.”

  “No,” D grunted.

  “D...”

  “Said no. Ain’t gonna say it again. Gonna have a word with ‘im. More than one fuckin’ word. Leave it at that.”

  He didn’t want to “leave it at that,” but he would for now. He needed to get home and check on Jazz.

  “Says it’s the last one. Couldn’t be so fuckin’ lucky,” D muttered.

  Crow’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah. How do they know?”

  D lifted a heavy shoulder. “They got their ways. Not sure if it’s true. Hope to fuck it is. Gotta get that monkey off my fuckin’ back. The club’s growin’ like fuckin’ crazy. Unless I hire personal bodyguards for every fuckin’ ol’ lady an’ every kid...” He shook his head, moved behind his desk and settled into his oversized office chair with a grunt. He scrubbed a hand over his short dark hair. “Can’t fuckin’ watch everybody. Compound helps, but apparently not enough.”

  D’s large paw shoved an object toward Crow. As it slid across his desk, he realized it was a cell phone.

  “Check the pics. It’s what Steel showed Jazz, so you know what the fuck you’re dealin’ with when you get back to your place.”

  Were they pics of that day? Of her in that abandoned house? Beat up and sliced open? Naked, bruised and bloodied?

  His gut twisted. Because if they were, there was no fucking way he was looking at them. “D...”

  “Just fuckin’ look at ‘em. Ain’t of her.”

  Crow reluctantly picked up the cell and braced himself as he hit the power button and the screen lit up. He didn’t have to open the photo gallery app to see the first one. Fuck no, he didn’t. The first pic smacked him right in the fucking face.

  His blood turned to ice.

  Ashton. A shot of Kiki carrying her son to the SUV Hawk bought to haul the kid around. Wasn’t hard to see that the photo was taken in front of their house, which was not within the compound. They still lived in Hawk’s unsecure Cape Cod in town. He had a feeling that was going to change after today.

  He forced himself to swipe left.

  Dawg and Emma. The brother carrying his baby girl, Emmalee, while his wife held Lily’s hand as they headed into a store, unaware they were being tracked.

  Crow tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it wouldn’t budge.

  He reluctantly swiped again.

  Ivy with Alexis. The two with their heads together, making it difficult to tell where Ivy’s red hair ended and Lexi’s started. Mother and daughter so much alike. If Jag knew... Fuck, that brother would die a torturous death before letting anything happen to his girls.

  Sophie with Zak’s sons in a local park. Zane in a stroller ne
xt to Z’s ol’ lady as she pushed Zeke on a swing. She wore a huge smile as the sun shone down upon them, lighting up their faces.

  Diamond. Clearly a recent shot since her stomach was rounded and she was obviously pregnant. She was exiting the club’s gym, a hand to her belly. The belly he’d touched so many times, the one that housed her and Slade’s unborn son.

  And lastly, Diesel. Violet riding on her father’s shoulders, one of his hands holding her steady, while Indie was tucked into the crook of his other bulky arm. Crow had no idea where it was taken, and it didn’t matter.

  What mattered was, it was all of them. The complete fourth generation of the DAMC.

  Crow lifted his eyes from the phone and looked at D. His elbows were planted on his desk, his face hidden in his hands.

  When Crow dropped the phone back onto the desk, D’s words came muffled through his fingers. “Never wanted an ol’ lady. Never wanted kids. This is exactly fuckin’ why. Makes me weak. Makes me a target. Makes them a target.” He slowly lifted his head. For once it was easy to read his expression. One he fought to hide but couldn’t.

  Vulnerability.

  “Somethin’ happens to them, I’ll cease to exist.”

  Crow’s chest tightened even more as he stared at the club’s enforcer and his long-time brother. He didn’t even bother to argue with what he said, because it was true. If anything happened to Jewel, Indie or Vi, Diesel would lose his fucking mind and the whole world would know it.

  They were his life. His blood. His everything.

  Crow understood it. Even though the women and children of the DAMC might be considered club property, they were anything but.

  Fuck no. They were the heartbeat of the club. Every single one of them. The prior generation wanted to leave something better for the next. And the one after that.

  Every living, breathing member of that club, whether patched or not, was a part of a family.

  And the Warriors kept fucking with their family.

  So, he had no qualms about Mercy and Steel, or any of D’s crew, taking out the trash. He hoped that Warrior ended up at the bottom of the quarry where the fish could pick his bones clean like they probably had Pierce’s.

  The Shadow Warriors’ biggest mistake was not letting the war go. Not walking away and accepting defeat. They let it fester throughout the decades. But holding on to that need for revenge was a fatal mistake for that MC, because in the end, that outlaw club would be annihilated.