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

by James, Nicole

  Crash nodded, not really wanting to talk about it. He took a sip of his beer. “I guess that’s what the military is about, having each other’s backs.”

  Shane rolled the beer bottle between his palms. “Yeah, it is. It’s also about being a man. I grew up in a small town where people still believe in family, patriotism and looking out for each other. I had a great father, my best buddy when I was little, but there was also a good dose of discipline. There was a line, and believe me, I never fucking wanted to cross it. When I told him I was signing up, he told me, ‘Go get some fuckin’ payback, boy.’ That’s just his way.

  “And you?” Crash asked Jake. “Why’d you join up?”

  “I’ve always loved guns, always loved hunting. My father was good at what he did, but he hated his job. Hated being stuck in an office, wearing a suit and the fucking office politics that went with it all. He told me, ‘Don’t matter how much money you make, if you hate your job, you’ll be miserable. It’s not worth it if you’re not happy.’ Most valuable piece of advice he ever gave me. Do what you want in life.” Jake shrugged. “I wanted to carry a gun and shoot bad guys.”

  “So, now that you’re back, why not law enforcement?” Crash thought it was a fair question.

  “Fuck that,” Jake replied unequivocally.

  “And now you think you want to join an MC?”

  They both nodded.

  “Ironic, huh?” Shane asked.

  “Not really,” Crash shrugged.

  “It’s the brotherhood thing we talked about,” Jake clarified.

  “Yeah, there is brotherhood. But go into this with your eyes open. We are not the Boy Scouts. And another thing you ought to know about the club: when you’re new to an MC, you get hazed. The Evil Dead is no different. The Dead is a very tight-knit group. Prospects are treated like hell until they prove they belong. That usually doesn’t happen until well into the first year, if then. Prospects get the shit jobs. They’re constantly tested. They’re always beat on.”

  “Sounds like the military. New guys are always given hell.” Shane laughed.

  “Prospecting is kind of an extended hazing that takes many forms.”

  “Such as?” Jake asked.

  “My first experience, I heard the gavel slam down through the closed door of the meeting room. The door burst open, and the next thing I knew, I was pummeled. That summer, end of every Church, that gavel slamming down meant it was open season on the new guys. I came out of my first one with two broken ribs and a black eye, maybe two. I must have gotten my lip busted a dozen times during prospecting.”

  Jake and Shane nodded.

  “Bar fights, another staple of the Dead. We’re pretty notorious for getting into bar scrapes, and you’ll be no exception.”

  “That happens often?” Shane asked.

  Crash nodded. “Pent-up aggression. Invincible bad-asses with no problem taking care of business, even if that comes down to killing someone, when it’s deserved. That’s a pretty potent combination. When you go into a bar, you’ll always have someone who will poke a shoulder into you or otherwise imply you should fuck off. Happens in every bar across the world. Most people just ignore things like that.” Crash shrugged. “If you do that to an Evil Dead member, the whole club is going to turn and knock you out. You mess with one, you mess with us all.”

  Again they nodded.

  Crash continued, “But at the same time, I have to say that while the MC ends a lot of fights, we usually don’t start many. In a lot of cases, the fights are the result of some sort of stupid jealousy or the need for a dumbass to test his own manhood and earn bragging rights for fighting a member. When we go into bars, we don’t just cower down in the corner or lie low. We go in extremely fucking confident. Maybe we’re loud. And, by the way, one of the requirements of being a member is staying in top physical shape. Mack demands it. You may have noticed that we’re not a bunch of beer-bellied slouches. So, with us being mostly young and in great shape, people take notice. Girls gravitate toward a group of Evil Dead, and maybe that makes their boyfriends jealous. Or guys want to prove something for some other reason, either way, things escalate and fights happen.”

  “Sounds right up our fucking alley,” Jake admitted with a grin as he finished off his beer.

  “Just think about it.” Crash advised. “You do this, you need to go into it with your eyes open. This ain’t no social club. It’s not just paying dues and showing up when you can. Dedication is expected and required. Attendance to everything is mandatory. It’s a commitment to your brothers that has to come first above everything else. It’s about dedication and trust. The chapter members have to trust that no matter what, you’re going to have their backs. 100% of the membership have to vote you in. That means every single member has to trust you implicitly. Part of that trust is you don’t lie to your brothers. Ever.”

  They both nodded.

  Crash stood up, observing, “Looks like you’re ready for a refill.” He headed inside to get a few more beers, giving them time to discuss it among themselves. He believed they had what it took, but he wanted them to be sure they understood what they were getting into. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he heard Shannon call to him softly.

  “Crash?”

  Looking over, he saw that the light on the bedside table was still on. He paused in the doorway to the bedroom. She was sitting up in his bed, the covers around her waist. She had on that sexy silk camisole set again. His eyes slid down to the pillows she held out to him. Smiling, he crossed to take them out of her hands. “Thanks. Night, Shannon.” As he turned to leave she grabbed his arm stopping him. He looked back at her with a questioning look on his face.

  “I feel guilty taking up this big bed all by myself,” she confessed.

  A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “You offerin’ to share, sweetheart?”

  She shrugged. “As long as you keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Not sure I can promise that, Princess.”

  “I was just trying to be nice. Sleep on the couch for all I care.”

  “Maybe it’s you who won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself,” he suggested with a grin.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure I can manage.”

  He winked at her. “We’ll see. Go on to sleep. I’ll be up with these boys for a while.” He moved to switch the lamp off. “Night, Princess.”

  When Crash returned to the rooftop, he sat staring quietly at the lights of the Bay Bridge.

  “So, has Shannon ever reacted like that before?” Shane asked quietly.

  Crash frowned. “She’s had a few meltdowns. Not sure if it ties back to her ex-boyfriend or what. I haven’t been able to get her to talk about it. She just gets all defensive.”

  “Her reactions are classic PTSD,” Jake murmured.

  Crash looked over at him and slowly nodded. “Could be. Either of you have any problems with that since you’ve been out?”

  Jake ran a hand over his face and admitted softly, “I have bad dreams. Trouble sleeping. Shit like that.”

  Crash looked over at Shane. “You?”

  “I’m on edge a lot. Don’t like someone walking up on me and startling me. I tend to overreact.”

  Jake smiled and ratted him out. “He’s decked more than one guy for that.”

  “It’s getting better, though, thank God,” Shane admitted.

  After about another hour of talking and drinking up on the rooftop, Crash stood. “Well, boys, I don’t know about you, but I’m beat.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Jake agreed.

  “Hell, it’s so nice up here on the roof. I could sleep in this chair,” Shane murmured slumped back with his eyes closed.

  Crash laughed. “Suit yourself, but that sun’s a bitch when it comes over the horizon at the crack of dawn.”

  “Which will only be in about four hours,” Jake put in, glancing at his military wrist watch.

  Shane groaned and got up. “Killjoys.”

  They all m
oved inside. The guys moved to the sectional, where Crash had laid out pillows and extra blankets. They each grabbed a pair of sweats out of their duffle bags and took turns in the bathroom. Crash moved around the loft, switching lights out, and then proceeded to the bedroom. He paused by the bed, looking down at Shannon’s sleeping form. She looked so sweet lying there asleep in his bed.

  As he pulled his tee shirt over his head and tossed it aside, he thought about how many nights he’d lain awake on the couch imagining crawling in this bed with her. He reached for his belt. A moment later his 501s hit the floor, and he slipped into bed beside her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Shannon’s eyes fluttered open, squinting against the early morning light. She felt the warm body underneath her. The smooth warm skin beneath her cheek.

  Crash.

  She was on top of him, lying between his legs. Her head on his stomach. She could feel his hand on her head, his fingers threaded through her hair. She dared a peek up and found him fast asleep, his head turned to the side on the pillow. He looked different in sleep. Peaceful. Gentle. Tranquil.

  Her hand lay on his stomach near her face. Her eyes traveled over him, falling on the tribal tattoo that scrolled down the side of his right ribs, and she couldn’t help but lightly trace her fingertips over the intricate design. It was beautiful. Sexy. Erotic. Hot as hell. Her fingertips moved lower, following along the design.

  Without lifting her head, she tilted her chin down just a fraction, her eyes falling on his navel and the trail of hair that traveled lower. She saw his naked hip, the part that wasn’t covered by her body lying on top of him.

  Dear God.

  He was naked in bed with her. She froze, tensing. Her head moved slightly with the rise and fall of his breathing, and she tried to relax. Her fingertips moved lower, following along the trail, and she abruptly froze feeling him growing hard beneath her.

  Suddenly his fingers were tightening in her hair, and his head was twisting on the pillow to look down at her. His sleepy eyes cracked open to peer down at her as his hips lifted, and he shifted beneath her.

  The hand not in her hair reached down and stroked tenderly over her ass a second before it squeezed her, and then lifted and came down in a light smack. “Let me up, babe.”

  She scrambled off him, mortified, sliding across the mattress to put a foot of space between them. She clutched the sheet and looked over to see him wincing.

  “Damn, my leg’s asleep.”

  “Sorry,” she murmured.

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Don’t apologize. If I didn’t like you sleeping on top of me, I would have moved you off a long time ago.”

  “How long have I been…?”

  “Cuddled up on top of me?” He grinned, his teeth flashing white against his tan skin and beard. “Sometime in the middle of the night you crawled up on top of me and settled in like a cat. I think you may have actually purred.”

  “Oh, God,” she moaned. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  He turned on his side, going up on his elbow. He reached up a hand and pushed a lock of hair off her face with a finger. “Don’t be embarrassed, Princess. You’re cute when you blush.”

  “What time is it?” she asked glancing toward the chains and the loft beyond wondering if their company was still asleep. Crash twisted, picked his cell off the bedside table and checked the time.

  “Nine.” He turned and stood up, giving her a lovely shot of his beautiful back and ass before he pulled a pair of charcoal grey sweatpants up over his hips. He turned back, and she quickly averted her eyes, knowing he’d seen exactly where her eyes had been. He smiled down at her as he tied the string on the sweats up. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.”

  He winked in response and moved off to the bathroom.

  Shannon clutched the sheet to her chest and sat up, her eyes running over his gorgeous back and those sexy dimples at the base as he walked away. He moved with the grace of a stalking tiger, his shoulders rolling, hips rocking. After the door closed behind him, she twisted, peering through the chains. She could see two bodies sprawled out on different parts of the sectional. One of them was snoring softly. She couldn’t help smiling to herself at the sweet little sound.

  Scrambling out of bed, she quickly dressed in a pair of black yoga pants. She pulled a sky blue racer-back tank from her bag and tossed it on the bed. She heard the toilet flushing and quickly turned her back, yanking her camisole top over her head and reaching for the tank, wanting to be dressed before Crash walked back out the door.

  Too late, she heard the door open behind her as she slid her arms in the tank and pulled it up over her head. It had barely settled on her when two arms came around her pulling her back against a warm chest. She let out a little yelp of surprise.

  Crash’s mouth came to her ear and nipped at her earlobe. “Hungry?”

  Her hands settled over his forearms as she felt him waiting on her answer. “I…I suppose. But what I’d really like is coffee.”

  “Deal. I’ll make you coffee. You scramble some eggs.”

  She bit her lip. “I suppose I could handle that.”

  “Bacon, too,” he pushed for more.

  She grinned. “Bacon, too. But I have to warn you, you’re taking a risk on how it’ll come out.”

  He laughed, released her and smacked her ass. “I’ll take my chances.” He moved off toward the kitchen. “Come on, Princess. Follow me to caffeine nirvana.”

  As he knew it would, the smell of bacon filling the loft worked like an alarm clock. Rolling over, Shane ran a hand through his bed head. “It smells like bacon heaven in here.”

  Crash looked over from where he was doing pull ups on the chin-up bar in the corner. He grunted, “Bout time you woke up.”

  Shane squinted against the morning light, following the sound of Crash’s voice. He stood up, his sweatpants sitting low on his hips. Scratching his bare chest, he yawned. Then he strolled over toward Crash. “Morning.”

  Crash dropped to his bare feet on the polished concrete floor. He grinned at Shane, gesturing to the bar. “Have at it.”

  Shane stepped over to the bar and jumped up, grabbing on. He began doing chin-ups in rapid succession. Crash grinned and moved over to the kitchen to refill his coffee mug. Shannon was standing at the stove finishing the eggs and getting more frazzled by the minute. Crash could tell she was worried she was making a mess of them. He moved behind her and put his arms around her. His mouth at her ear. “Baby, calm down. Take a deep breath. It’s not a big deal. Shh.”

  He felt her take a deep breath, and she replied, “You’re right.” He grinned, and reaching around her, he snatched a piece of crisp bacon off the platter she had on the counter next to her.

  “Hey! Wait for the eggs.”

  He grinned as he chewed, then winked at her. Turning, Crash strolled over to the couch and kicked it. “Get up, sleepyhead,” he said to Jake, who squinted one eye open and looked up at him. He moaned and rolled to his feet, shoving the blanket aside. He yawned and rubbed both eyes with the heels of his hand. When he was done, the smell of bacon finally hit him.

  Crash stood above him, grinning and munching on his strip of bacon. “Hungry?”

  “If there’s bacon, hell yeah.”

  Once they’d all filled their bellies with breakfast, and he and the guys had all had showers, Crash took them up on the roof with a second cup of coffee, giving Shannon time to use the bathroom and take a shower.

  After about an hour, Crash left the boys and walked back inside to get a warm up on his coffee. Shannon was sitting on the sectional flipping through the standard channels that he got through the antenna on the roof. She stopped on an old black and white movie. She hadn’t realized he was behind her yet, and he heard her whisper, “God, I’ve always loved this movie.”

  Crash raised his mug to his lips, sipping the last of his coffee. His eyes went to the screen over the rim. It was an old Clark Gable film called, It Happened One Nig
ht. The scene on the screen was the famous one where Gable is unsuccessfully trying to flag them down a ride on a country road. Crash watched the screen as Claudette Colbert walked over to the road and hiked her skirt up to her thigh, immediately getting a car to stop.

  He grinned, lowering his mug and teased, “Oh, look, another spoiled little rich girl who runs away from home.”

  Shannon whirled, startled to realize he was there. Then his comment referencing the plot of the movie sunk in, and her eyes narrowed. “Why do you have to be such an ass?”

  “Hit a nerve, did I?”

  The door to the rooftop opened, and Jake and Shane came in, stopping when they sensed the tension in the room. Crash glanced at the pair, noting they were wisely going to stay out of this.

  Shannon flicked the television off and threw the remote down, standing to face Crash and recapturing his focus. “It was the only thing on. You don’t have cable,” she needlessly pointed out to him, bitchily he noted, her hands going to her hips.

  “Nope,” he agreed unabashedly, moving into the kitchen.

  “How can you not have cable?” she demanded incredulously, following him.

  He dumped the dregs of his coffee and set the mug on the counter. Then he turned to face her, his brows raised and repeated her question back to her. “How can I not have cable?”

  “Yes, how?”

  “Simple. I just don’t. I’m never here, and if I am, I listen to music and do metalwork or work on bikes,” he replied calmly, folding his arms and leaning back against the counter.

  “So, what am I supposed to do all day?” she demanded, folding her arms, mimicking him.

  “I don’t know. Hmm, what do maids do all day? Oh, that’s right, clean-up, laundry, dishes.” The corner of his mouth pulled up.

  “I’m not your maid,” she insisted.

  “Yeah, babe, you are. You agreed to this arrangement.”