CRASH: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series)

by James, Nicole

  “What do you do?” the blonde asked.

  “I drive an ice cream truck.”

  “Right.”

  “Okay, seriously, it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but you girls look like sweet girls. You wouldn’t laugh at me, would you?”

  The blonde innocently shook her head.

  “I’m a Dolphin waxer.”

  “And what does a dolphin waxer do?” she asked naively.

  “Dolphins in captivity need to be waxed so their skin won’t disintegrate.”

  Shannon and Crash looked at each other, trying to keep a straight face. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “It’s a pretty convincing story if you’re a young, naïve, and tipsy girl. Especially, considering she is a blonde.”

  Shannon elbowed him in the gut under the table.

  “And what do you do?” the redhead asked Jake.

  “I man an ATM machine.”

  She frowned, “Huh?”

  “I sit inside and dole out money when people put their cards in.”

  “I’m not anywhere near that naïve, or drunk, for you to try that story,” the redhead replied, rolling her eyes.

  “What you don’t believe me?” Jake asked with his hands over his heart. “I’m wounded.”

  “What you are is full of shit,” she told him. “Obviously you’re military.”

  Crash grinned and whispered to Shannon, “Restores my faith in redheads.”

  “What makes you say that?” Jake asked her.

  “The haircuts. The military wristwatches. The fact that you’re both built like a brick house.”

  Jake grinned. “I do love an intelligent woman with keen observation skills.”

  Two hours later, those boys had danced with probably every chick in the joint and currently each had a babe draped across their laps as they sat on the nearby window ledge. Crash looked over at Shannon. She was sipping her third drink and glancing around the room. His hand came up and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. When her gaze swung back to him, her expression was soft, her eyes a little bright. He grinned. “You gonna be okay to ride back? Don’t want you sliding off the back.”

  She smiled at him, looking down at her drink. “I’m fine. These aren’t very strong.”

  “Come here,” he suddenly growled as he took her hand in his and tugged, pulling her off her stool to stand between his spread knees. Her eyes looked up at him, her pupils dilating until they were big. He couldn’t get over how fucking gorgeous her eyes were. The prettiest he’d ever seen. His eyes drifted down to her sweet bow of a mouth. Unconsciously, his hand came up, his thumb brushing over her lip, remembering their earlier kiss. Her mouth parted, her teeth catching the tip of his thumb. His eyes flashed back up to hers, and the heat he saw there told him she was remembering, too.

  Blue lights flashed through the window, lighting up the bar. Crash twisted to look over his shoulder. Several patrol cars had just pulled into the lot. He noticed both Jake and Shane looking also. Glancing down at them, he said, “I’m gonna get Shannon home. Looks like maybe a fight out in the parking lot.”

  Jake and Shane both stood up, setting the girls on their feet.

  “We’ll head out with you,” Jake offered.

  “The party’s not moving back to my place.” Crash wanted to be sure they understood these girls were not coming back.

  “Message received,” Jake confirmed.

  Crash nodded and signaled the waitress for their tab. After they paid, he led Shannon out. Jake and Shane followed behind, their arms draped around the girls they’d picked up.

  When they moved through the doors and out the entrance into the parking lot, Crash realized the commotion outside was more intense than he’d figured. There were several guys already in handcuffs, but one guy was being hard to subdue and was repeatedly taking a swing at the officers. Before he could get Shannon out of there, one of the cops hit the guy with a Taser, bringing him to the ground.

  “Wham-o, take that sucka,” Jake teased.

  “Fifty thousand volts will do that,” Shane confirmed with a laugh.

  Crash smiled at them, but then he felt Shannon pulling back on his hand. Twisting around, he frowned, taking in her face. Shit she was freaking out again. Like that time in the parking garage, only this time was ten times worse. The look of utter terror on her face tore into him. “Fuck, baby. It’s okay.”

  She shook her head, pulling back on his arm. He tightened his grip. No way in hell was he letting go. He pulled her to him, reeling her in until he could get his other arm around her. “Shannon. You’re okay. Nobody is going to hurt you,” he soothed her with low murmurs against her cheek as he cradled her head to him.

  By this time, Jake and Shane had turned around, taking in Shannon’s reaction.

  “She okay?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah, man, she okay?” Shane put in.

  “No, she’s not okay. She’s having a panic attack.”

  “Maybe you should take her back inside,” Jake suggested.

  Crash shook his head. “No. I’ve got her.”

  “What can we do?” Shane asked.

  Crash held her shaking body, his hand rubbing up and down her back. He pushed her head under his chin. “I’m right here, sweetheart. Nothing’s going to happen to you. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

  Shane and Jake just stood there, not sure how to help.

  Crash looked up, and his eyes connected with theirs, seeing the compassion and concern in their eyes. “I just need to get her back to the bike and home.”

  Jake nodded. “Yeah, man. We’ll help you.” They surrounded her, trying to keep her from the prying eyes of the bystanders that had been watching the fight. Both of them said something to the girls with them, and the girls disappeared back inside.

  Crash looked over Shannon’s head at them as he walked her down the block to the bikes. “Guys, I got this. Go. Have fun.”

  “Not a chance, brother,” Shane insisted.

  “How low do you think we are?” Jake put in.

  They reached the bikes. Crash dipped his head low to her face and spoke softly. “You gonna be okay to ride, sweetheart?”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay, honey. We’ll wait until you’re ready.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Nothing to be sorry for, Shannon.” He rubbed up and down her back. He could still feel the tremors shaking through her body.

  “I feel so stupid.”

  “Shh. You’re not stupid, Shannon.”

  “You must think I’m a basket-case.” She tried to push away from him, and he could sense the bitch was about to come out. She was scared, and that was her coping mechanism. He needed to break that habit. When he only held on tighter, she struggled harder and snapped, “Let me go!”

  “Babe, settle down.”

  She only struggled harder, slapping at his chest and head.

  Holding her by the upper arms, he shook her. “Look at me. Stop fighting me, and look at me, Shannon.” When finally she settled and her eyes met his he murmured low, his face right in hers, “It’s okay to be afraid, Shannon. You don’t have to pretend you can handle everything.”

  “You don’t know me! You don’t know anything about me!” she bit out.

  He clenched his jaw, the muscle working. “I know every time you’re scared, the bitch comes out.” She stiffened, and he could see the accusation had hit home. His tone softened. “I know that’s not the real you, that’s just the protective armor you bring out when something scares you. I know something else, Shannon. Nobody is going to hurt you. Not while you’re with me. That’s a promise.” His eyes searched hers. When she made no reply, he shook her again. “You understand me?”

  She stared up at him, her lip trembling, and then her face crumpled, and she went into his arms, holding him tight, her face tucked against his throat.

  His arms came around her, one hand stroking her head. As his hand caressed over the silky softness of her hair, his mou
th moved to her ear. “Have a little faith in me, Princess. I’ll keep you safe. I promise.” He continued stroking her head. “I won’t let anything hurt you, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You need to believe that.”

  “I can’t stop shaking.”

  “Then I’ll hold you until you do.” She clung to him, and he stroked her hair, his arms around her tight.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, her face buried in his chest.

  “My pleasure, Princess,” Crash murmured, his lips pressed against the top of her head. He could hear Jake and Shane quietly whispering to each other, musing how similar her reaction was to someone with PTSD, wondering if something traumatic had happened to her, wondering if maybe this ex of hers had beaten her.

  *****

  A half hour later, they were back at the loft. Shannon was sitting with her legs tucked under her in the middle section of the U-shaped sectional, a throw blanket tucked around her and a mug of hot tea in her hand.

  Jake sat on the section running perpendicular to her left, his elbows on his knees and a beer in his hands. He looked over at her and smiled. “Tea. I’ve never understood the appeal. To me it tastes like weak, crappy coffee.”

  Shane sat on the section running perpendicular to her right. He took a pull off his own beer and then replied, “That’s because you’re not a chick. Chicks love that shit.”

  Crash walked up to her and stood above her, a beer bottle dangling from between the fingers of one hand and a short cut tumbler in his other hand with about an inch worth of amber liquor inside. He held the glass out to her. “Here. This is what you need, Princess.”

  She looked up at him, taking in the determined expression on his face and realized he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She took the glass he held out to her.

  He took the mug out of her hand and set it on the coffee table. Then he twisted back to her. Standing above her, looking down at her, he ordered, “Drink it.”

  She closed her eyes and threw it back, gulping it down in one swallow. She grimaced.

  “Good girl,” he murmured, taking the glass from her hand. He moved to sit next to her, pulling her to him, tucking her under his arm.

  Leaning forward to pick her tea back up, she looked over at Jake and Shane. “I’m sorry I ruined your night.” She was so embarrassed for how she’d reacted.

  “Darlin’, you didn’t ruin anything.” This from Shane.

  She smiled. “But you were going to get lucky.”

  Jake grinned. “Don’t worry about us. Hell, Shane’s already fucked his way through half the state of North Carolina.”

  “Jake, don’t be so crude. She’s a lady,” Shane snapped.

  “Sorry, ma’am.” He leaned towards her and whispered. “But it’s the truth.”

  She tried not to laugh.

  “Yeah, and you were a choirboy.”

  Jake grinned. “Damn straight.”

  “North Carolina? Is that where you’re from?” Shannon asked, turning to Shane.

  Crash toyed with the curls of her hair as she sipped on her tea.

  “No, ma’am. I’m a Georgia boy. Jake’s from Mississippi. North Carolina’s where our base was. Ft. Bragg.”

  “I see. Well, you still have time to head back over to the bar. See if your girls are still there.”

  Jake’s brows rose, and he gave a short laugh. “Not likely.”

  “They were pretty hot. I’m sure they’ve already replaced us,” Shane replied.

  “Now I really feel bad.”

  “Darlin’, how hard-up do you think we are?” Shane grinned. “Hell, we’ve been back for a couple of months. It’s not like we haven’t gotten some.”

  Shannon grinned. “Right.”

  “Now you’re embarrassing her,” Jake said.

  “Me? You were the one cussing.”

  “Are you two always like this?” Crash asked, indicating their tendency to banter back and forth at each other.

  Shane grinned. “Pretty much.”

  Crash nodded. “You’ll fit right in.”

  Shannon set her empty mug on the table, yawning. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, gentleman, I think I’m going to get some sleep.” She made a move to rise, and both Jake and Shane stood.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jake responded.

  “Good night.” Shane winked at her.

  “Do you have pillows and blankets for them?” Shannon asked Crash.

  He stood and smiled down at her. “I’ll probably have to swipe a few off the bed. I’ll take care of them. You go on to bed, Princess.” He cupped the back of her head and pressed his lips to her forehead.

  After she disappeared into the bathroom, Crash turned to the two men. “Let’s take this outside so we don’t disturb her.” He nodded his head toward the door to the rooftop. Shane and Jake nodded and followed him out.

  Crash took a seat, set his beer down and pulled out his stashed pack of smokes, shaking one out. Jake took the other seat, and Shane sat on the crate, his elbows on his knees, beer bottle in his hands.

  “So, you guys enlisted after 9/11?” Crash asked after he lit up.

  Shane nodded. “We met in basic. But, yeah, we had both just graduated. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, then 9/11 happened, and I just felt I had to join up.”

  Jake nodded in agreement. “I volunteered for the army on my birthday. Same as my daddy. And his daddy before him. When I first joined up, I used to dream of bin Laden waking up to find me standing over him with my boot on his throat as I spit in his face and plunged my Bowie knife through his fucking frontal lobe.”

  “That’s vivid,” Crash acknowledged.

  “Hell, I’m a romantic.”

  Crash chuckled. “So you’ve been in a long time now.”

  “Re-upped twice,” Shane replied.

  “Multiple tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan.” Jake took a sip of beer. “I joined up to fight, and I’m good at it.”

  “Well, maybe we could use those talents you’re so good at,” Crash replied with a grin.

  He studied Crash a moment, and then continued, “Loved your brother like he was my own.”

  At the mention of his brother, Crash’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, I…ah…” he broke off taking a drag off his cigarette. “I don’t talk about him.”

  Jake nodded, looking off at the horizon.

  “I appreciate you’re coming, though. It’s just…it’s still hard.”

  “I understand, man. I really do,” Jake reassured him. “Your brother mentioned a sister, too.”

  Crash grinned. “Yeah. She’s back in Alabama with my Grandmother who raised us all.”

  Jake nodded. “Yeah, he told us about growing up there. He really looked up to you, man. I guess you kind of filled the father figure position for him.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Crash was uncomfortable with the topic, so he changed it. “What was Afghanistan like?”

  Shane, sensing Crash’s need to talk about something else, tried to lighten the mood and replied with a laugh, “That country blows, man. If you can even call it a country. There are no roads, no infrastructure, basically no government to speak of.”

  Jake was a little more emphatic. “It’s an inhospitable, rock-pit shit-hole ruled by eleventh century warring tribes.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. And there are no jobs there. At least, not like we know jobs,” Shane replied, taking a pull off his beer.

  Jake nodded. “Yeah. In Afghanistan a man’s got two ways to support his family: join the opium trade or join the army. That's it. Those are your options.”

  “Or live in one of those Godforsaken camps,” Shane reminded him.

  “Good God, those places stink. Tent cities of the walking dead,” Jake put in and then elaborated. “The smell alone of those shit-holes is enough to send them running into the poppy fields to happily scrape bulbs for eighteen hours a day, and who can blame them.” Jake lite up a smoke. Taking a long drag, he explained, “It is modern day tribal warfare. Th
ese guys, all of 'em, they live to fight… It's what they do. It's all they do. Roaming packs of barbaric savages. Cavemen with AK-47's.” He studied his smoke. “Then again, maybe I'm just cranky.”

  “Don’t get him started on the Taliban,” Shane grinned at Crash.

  “Why is that?” Crash had to ask.

  “The fucking media keeps calling them smart. They are not smart. They are sneaky and ruthless, and when confronted, cowardly. They are parasites who create nothing and destroy everything else. Smart? Yeah, they're real smart.”

  Shane gave Crash a look that said, told you so. Crash took a drag off his smoke, smiling.

  “They consider hygiene and indoor plumbing to be products of the devil. They're still figuring out how to work a Bic lighter. Talking to a Taliban warrior about improving his quality of life is like trying to teach an ape how to hold a pen; eventually he just gets frustrated and sticks you in the eye with it.”

  Crash chuckled. “No wonder you’re cranky.”

  Shane, seeing it was time to lighten the mood, looked at Jake and started the joke, knowing Jake would finish it. “You may be Taliban if…”

  Jake immediately fired back, “You refine heroin for a living, but you have a moral objection to beer.”

  Shane grinned and countered with, “You think vests come in two styles, bullet-proof and suicide.”

  Crash was shaking with laughter. “Okay, enough with the stupid jokes.”

  “But, wait. You haven’t heard my best one yet,” Shane insisted. “I was so depressed last night I called the Suicide Lifeline. I got a call center in Pakistan, and when I told them I was suicidal, they got all excited and asked if I could drive a truck.”

  Crash shook his head, laughing.

  “Seriously, though, we happened to be in some pretty badass situations. We were in the shit a lot. Back-to-back deployments. I’m not lying or exaggerating to say it was fun. I had the time of my life being Airborne. We gave each other hell, but we had a lot of fun, and we always knew we had each other’s back,” Jake explained.

  “It’s an honorable life,” Crash remarked.

  “Your brother was a good man. I always knew he had my back. Even the day he died, the mission that day…he was protecting our six. Making sure we weren’t attacked from the rear,” Jake went on.