“Come on, Melissa, you got to know that’s not how I explained it. You think I would say that shit to Jett? Relax.” Then he stood and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s been a long fucking day. Come here.”
“I think we need to talk,” Melissa said without moving.
“No we fucking don’t. Not tonight, Babe.”
“You embarrassed me and made me look like a horrible mother in front of all those people.” Melissa persisted. “God. You don't think I felt horrible enough? You don't think I was freaked out enough without you making me feel that?”
“What? When?” He looked honestly confused.
“When you stood in front of my bleeding son as if you were protecting him from everyone, including me, and demanded to know where I had been. Why would you do that?” Melissa’s eyes held a spark of anger.
“That guy.” Crow spat out the words as if he was ejecting poison from his bloodstream.
“That guy? What guy?”
“Who the fuck do you think?” Crow growled.
“Tommy?”
“Yeah, him.” Crow kept his voice low, but the savage tone shot through loud and clear. “Now you want to tell me who the fuck he is and what happened between you two that makes him think that he has the right to touch you the way he was touching you?”
“I told you,” Melissa said, stunned.
“No. He told me. Now I want to hear it from you. You wanted to talk. Let’s start there.”
Crow stood with his back against the door. His green eyes glittered like shards of glass. It was then that Melissa realized that bringing this up now was probably a bad call on her part. Crow was right. The day had been a hotbed of emotion without adding more flame to the fire. But Melissa knew that she had fanned those flames and it was up to her to put the fire out. Arguing over Tommy Hinks was just ridiculous. A small niggling thought that Crow might be jealous shot through her mind, but she was too overwrought and exhausted to go there. However, she knew that Crow expected and maybe even deserved an explanation.
“What Tommy told you was true. Jesse, Tommy and I all grew up together on the same block. Tommy was a year younger than Jesse and really looked up to him. When Jesse joined the Air Force, everyone knew that Tommy would too. He’d always call and come visit when he was home on leave. I don’t know what I would have done without him. He was always really good to me.” She let the words hang in the air.
Melissa knew that she had left out the most important part of that story. She had left out the part where Tommy had lain in a burn unit fighting for his life, month after month, hospital after hospital recovering from the accident that had killed his best friend. Tommy had fought the battle between life and death without receiving so much as a card or a letter or a visit from her. Melissa had left out that disgusting truth about what a selfish coward she had been in the face of Tommy’s pain. Suddenly she was exhausted.
“And you’re right. We shouldn’t do this now. Can we not do this now?”
“Define good,” Crow responded in a tone that said that they were definitely doing this now.
“Define good?” Melissa frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You said he was good to you. How good was he, Melissa?” Crow crossed his big arms in front of his chest and a muscle leaped in his cheek.
Melissa didn’t understand.
Then she got it.
And now she didn’t feel so tired any longer. Not even a little bit.
“Really, Crow?” Melissa was filled with outrage. “Is that your first thought? That I sleep with my husband’s best friend? Because that is what we are talking about here isn’t it? Me fucking Tommy? How can you ask me that? How can you even for one minute, one minute, think it? That would never happen. Not then. Not now.”
Melissa’s eyes glimmered with angry tears.
“Maybe you come from a place where disgusting things like that happen…but I don’t.”
Crow unfolded his arms and pushed away from the door. He looked at Melissa for a long moment but didn't move. When he spoke, it was in a voice filled with quiet resignation.
“No, baby, I don’t come from that place. The place I come from? It makes that one look like a church camp.”
And there they stood, separated only by a few feet but a thousand emotions. Melissa heard the sorrow in his voice and it made her feel like she was drowning.
“Crow…” She reached out to him.
“Testing one two three! Testing one two three! Hey, mom? Crow? Does it work? Can you hear me? Are you there?" Melissa jumped as Jett’s voice split the tense quiet of the room.
She turned away from Crow and towards the monitor on the nightstand. Then she depressed the little button and responded.
“Yeah, honey. It works. We're both right here listening.” Melissa spoke into the small speaker and reassured her son.
But when she turned to look back at Crow, the room was empty.
Chapter 28
Crow’s bike waited for him outside when he left the cottage. He wasn’t sure how it got there and he didn’t give a shit. He jumped on the Harley and raced hell bent back out to Fallsview and to his brothers.
He had some thinking to do.
And that thinking had to do with the place that Crow came from and Melissa did not.
It wasn't lost on Crow that he had been here before, that he had put himself in this same damn position time and time again. The women sure as hell were all different, but the circumstances were all pretty much the same. And those circumstances saw Crow crossing a line into a place he had no business going, swooping in like some comic book hero trying to save the day.
He had done it with Jaci when he had heard her sad story of being tossed around in the foster care system.
And he had done it with Raine when he had seen the confused, lost look in her eyes those first few days she had come to the Hells Saints compound.
Not. Going. To. Happen.
Again.
When Crow got to the clubhouse in Fallsview, he grabbed a bottle of Jack from the top shelf of the bar and took the keys to one of the rooms in the main club house. Once inside the room he took a long hot shower and scrubbed the road dust off. Then he went straight for booze. After self-medicating in a rapid succession of long pulls from the bottle, he hit the thin, lumpy mattress and fell into a restless sleep. Crow woke up the next day with a bad headache, a heavy heart, and a violent hard-on.
He’d been tortured all night with a long series of erotic dreams about Melissa. Visions of her soft naked body as it writhed against him, beneath him, on top of him, still invaded his senses.
The dream washed away with the sun, but the memories lingered on. And the dream wasn't even as good as what the reality of having Melissa, even for a little while, had been.
Crow really just didn’t know what the fuck to do with what was happening between them. He knew he should shut it down; he knew he never should have started it.
Maybe you come from a place where that happens…but I don’t.
He knew that he should really just let it go.
But who the fuck was he kidding? Crow didn’t want to let this thing with Melissa go.
Not ever and no matter what.
Shit.
Would he ever learn?
Probably not, he couldn't help but smirk in self-derision.
But there was also something deep inside Crow that knew. No matter how much this thing between him and Melissa felt like it was the same carousel he had been on before, it also felt different.
It felt like something that was worth fighting for.
Satisfied with the evolution of his thoughts, Crow relaxed and pulled on his boots. He was going to get dressed, get on the road and finished what he started.
He was going to get his ass home.
When the buzz of his cell split the air, he picked it up and rasped out a happy hello, his voice filled with uncharacteristic optimism. But when Crow heard the words that came tumbling out of Diego’s mouth on the ot
her end of the phone, he felt the blood drain from his face. That I got life by the balls feeling quickly receded and was replaced with a violent flash of pain that tore its way down to his stomach. Diego’s low steady voice tried for calm, but the news it brought made Crow clench his jaw until it ached.
Goddamn it. When it rained…
Crow walked down the hall, stopped a few doors away from his own and shouted out Jules’s name in a loud snarl. Without waiting for a response, Crow shoved the bedroom’s door open hard and stormed in.
“You're done here, Brother.” Crow glared in the general direction of the loud slurping sounds and the head bobbing shadow cast upon the wall of the darkened room.
“Jesus. Doesn’t anyone fucking knock anymore?” Jules groaned. “Show a brother some respect. And wait your goddamn turn.”
He looked over his shoulder at Crow, took a hit off his beer and put it down again. Then Jules placed a firm hold on the back of the brunette's head just as she began to lift herself from the face plant she had in his lap. “Keep going, baby.”
And she did.
The brunette kept on keeping on.
The sudden unannounced appearance of another guy in the room waiting his turn was apparently nothing unusual for her.
“Just got word from Crownsmount. We got to go, Brother. Now!” Crow said with contempt.
“Goddamn it, I'm trying to concentrate here. Get the fuck out and give me five. The boss has got lousy timing.” Jules followed with a string of profanities in Crow's direction.
“Yeah, well, you can tell him that when you see him. You're right. He should have planned his goddamn heart attack to coincide with your blowjobs.” Crow barked out. “Get the bitch off you and let's go.”
“Heart attack?” Jules stood up and the woman who had just been busy making him happy was suddenly wrenched free to land with a dull thud on the floor. Jules looked down and pulled her up.
“Catch you next time, darling.'” He spanked her on the ass and pushed her towards the exit. The woman pouted and used the back of her hand to wipe off her red swollen mouth, sending a raccoon- like mascara glare Crow’s way as she left.
“Classy,” Crow commented.
“Ain’t they all,” Jules muttered back. Then he stuffed himself back in his pants, zipped, buttoned and ran his hand through his hair.
“How bad?” Jules asked.
“I don't know, man. Is a heart attack ever good? You ready?” Crow glanced down at his phone for the millionth time in the past few minutes.
“Yeah. I’m good. I just have to grab my pack. You think we ought to put in a call to D or Reno before we hit the road for that long ass ride? Find out what the fuck?” Jules asked as he pulled his long blond hair back and tied it with a leather thong.
“Let's just go, Brother. We'll find out everything we need once we get there. Can't do anything from here anyway.” Crow hoped to hell he sounded a lot calmer than he felt.
“Yeah. I'm down with that. Jury has been made aware?” Jules headed towards Crow and the door.
“Yeah. He’s calling anyone who needs to know,” Crow answered
“He sending someone to represent?” Jules asked.
“No. Pinky doesn’t want a circus. Just us. His family.”
“Yeah. Family. I’d want that too.” Jules heaved out a long sigh. Crow put a hand on Jules’s shoulder and the two of them walked with heavy hearts towards their bikes. As they packed their gear, Crow suddenly remembered something he had once heard.
“Is it true that most deaths from a heart attack happen in the first twenty-four hours?” Crow shot out.
“He’s gonna be okay, man.” Jules paused as his fingers hovered over the ignition and he caught Crow’s eyes.
“Yeah. Yeah. I know. I know he is, Brother. But is it fucking true?” Crow pressed him.
Jules started his Harley and over the roar of the engine he returned somewhat hesitantly. “Yeah, it’s fucking true.”
The fear that Prosper might be running on borrowed time propelled Jules and Crow through the long ride home. Breaking all traffic laws and only stopping to gas up, they sped towards Crownsmount. But it was still a long ride—Crow spent all of it thinking about a half-starving, half-dead Apache kid and the outlaw man who saved him in just about every way a young boy can be saved.
***
Crow had been on his own two months when Prosper found him. By that time, the twelve-year-old boy was half starving and had run out of safe places to sleep. Living on the streets had been so much harder than Crow could have imagined. He had only his wits and his fists.
While he wasn't small for his age, he was still just a boy and he was suffering from hunger and exhaustion. Crow found himself to be easy prey for the street gangs, and kept moving to avoid them. He had begun committing petty theft, resorting to dumpster diving for basic needs.
One night two older boys found him and began to beat him just for the fun of it. Even though Crow got in a few well-placed kicks and punches, he was getting the shit beat out of him. After one particularly vicious kick, he managed to pull out the small carving knife he had found in the back of a restaurant and carried in his boot. Crow lunged at the largest boy and felt the satisfaction of the sharp blade as he pushed it intothe boy’s soft belly tissue. The howls of the two assailants echoed through the streets as they ran off with threats to come back and finish what they had started.
Even though Crow had been able to stand his ground against them, he had been badly beaten. Alone in the darkness he had somehow made his way through the woods to find shelter near a river bank. There Crow had lain semi-conscious, listening to the rushing sound of the dark water and feeling the cold, wet dirt beneath his split cheek. The young boy was distantly aware of his own blood seeping from his body. He waited without fear for the spirit of death. The only hope left in him was that whoever found his lifeless body would burn it in the Apache way so that his spirit would not be forced to roam the earth.
When the sun came up to find him not dead, Crow really didn't know what to do. He was hungry and cold and barely able to stand. He made his way back to the town, where it didn’t take long for the boys to find him again. But this time when they came at him, Crow knew he wouldn't have the strength or will to fight back.
The biggest one had just leaned down to haul him up and begin another beating when a huge shadow hit the wall in the alleyway and a voice called out a profane threat. It was enough to send the boys running off down the street.
Crow and the man faced each other then. The man was tall and his arms were thickly knotted with muscle and covered in black ink. He wore a lot of black and a leather vest that had patches on it. Crow knew what that meant. He had seen his share of bikers riding through the reservation.
Crow stumbled forward and the man caught him easily and held on to him. Crow felt a moment of panic at being trapped in the alley and fought with what strength he had left. When the twelve-year-old boy had finally exhausted himself and slumped against the hand that held him, the big biker growled three words at him. "You hungry, kid?"
By then Crow had gotten pretty good at assessing people. In the man's eyes he saw a flicker of understanding and an honesty that he thought he could trust. Besides he was damn hungry. Between the beating and the time he spent laid out by the river, he wasn't sure when he’d last eaten.
The guy, who said his name was Prosper, made him wash up good, then treated him to whatever he wanted on the menu. When he was done with a steak dinner, Prosper ordered him two more. He just kept ordering him food and asking him questions until Crow was full and there was really nothing left to tell.
Crow told Prosper who he was and what had brought him to the sorry state he was in. Crow discovered that once he began to talk he couldn't stop. He started with the death of his father when he was just five years old and ended with how he had escaped molestation by shoving a pen into the balls of his mom's john. Prosper didn't say much, but he nodded a lot and a couple of times his eyes glittered
with danger.
After dinner, Prosper asked Crow a few more pointed questions…and made a few phone calls. Then he asked him some more questions and made some more phone calls. This went on for about an hour. It ended with Prosper offering to bring Crow back east with him. He told him that he would be expected to pull his own weight and go to school. Prosper said that Crow would be safe and fed. When Crow asked him why he would be willing to do this, Prosper just said that he had lost someone that had meant something to him and she would have wanted him to watch over Crow.
By then Crow had developed a real strong sense of the good and bad of a man. By societal standards, he knew that Prosper might not be a good man. But he also knew that Prosper was probably his best bet for getting off the streets and surviving at least a few more years. Crow really had no expectation of living a long happy life, but he figured if he could make it to at least fifteen years old he would be beating the odds he had given himself. So leaving with the biker had been an easy decision to make.
Crow spent the next few weeks driving across the country on the back of Prosper’s Road King. The big man seemed in no real hurry to get back home and that suited Crow just fine. They spent their days riding under clear blue skies and their nights camping beneath an inky canopy of bright stars. They fished in the lakes and rivers they passed, and they cooked their meals over an open fire. The time that Prosper and Crow spent together on the long trip home forged a bond between the outlaw biker and the Native American boy that would last a lifetime. On those roads of asphalt and dust, young Crow’s spirit began to heal.
And once they got to the Hells Saints compound, Prosper had kept his word.
Crow was never hungry again and no one ever touched him.
Except for Pinky, Prosper’s woman.
The small blonde woman with the big smile just couldn't seem to keep her hands to herself. From the first moment that Pinky had met Crow she always appeared to be ready to give him a quick hug or to ruffle up his hair with her soft hand. The first time that Crow got all As on his report card she had shocked the hell right out of him by making an enormous plate of cookies just for him.
Taming Crow (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club) Page 17
