“Yes.”
“Was it malicious? Or self-defense?”
“There were eleven of them, and just him. They had his motorcycle surrounded.” I swallowed. “He ahh…had this baton, and he just…he was a one-man wrecking machine.”
“Eleven?” Lucas said, whistling in amazement. “And he came out on top?”
“He took a beating. The leader of them came after him with a knife, and he got cut on the ribs, but not, like, a mortal wound. He wouldn’t get stitches, just duct taped his shirt to it, and we rode away.”
“Sounds like a hell of a hard-case.”
“He was the son of the founder of a motorcycle club.”
“Which one? I used to be a regular at a bar back down in Oklahoma, knew quite a few of the bigger outfits.”
“The AzTex.”
His eyes widened. “He’s ol’ Coyote Crow’s boy? Hell, Coyote and his crew used to swing through that bar every few months. They had a…umm…business connection over in New Orleans, I think.”
“I know exactly what kind of business they were into,” I said.
“Ahh.” He nodded. “Coyote was a scary customer, no doubt. His brother Snake frightened me plumb silly, and I ain’t ashamed to admit it.”
I shook my head. “Seems like everyone knew Coyote Crow.”
He nodded. “Oh, yeah. Anyone in the biker and underworld sorta circles knew him. And they were scared of him.” He scratched his jaw. “Matter of fact, I think I ‘member reading about what happened with Crow, back in the early aughts. That business with the bar fight.”
I stopped breathing. “What did you hear?”
“He shoulda never been served to begin with. He walked into that bar pissed off his rocker, so all-fired drunk and crazy with grief that he wasn’t even barely coherent. That dumbass bartender oughta been the one who went to jail, not that poor boy. Lost his folks, his uncle—half the club was his family—all in one day. That there was a hell of a thing. Like something out of a Hollywood movie. Thirty-two people dead, an entire MC nearly wiped out, but they took the other guys out totally. Pyrrhic victory, I guess. Then, later, his own fiancé, pregnant, was murdered in front of him. He just went haywire, according to the stories. Went on a drinking spree across five states, looking for the man responsible for calling the hit. Never hurt anyone, till that dick at the Arizona bar picked a fight with him.”
He paused, meaningful, heavy, significant. “That fella, the one Crow killed in the fight? He was a member of the crew who’d tangled with the AzTex and killed Crow’s folks, but he’d stayed behind to watch the compound. He knew who Crow was, knew what had happened, and picked that fight on purpose. Crow oughta have died, that day. Nearly did. Head was all but caved in, nose broke in four places, lost teeth, busted jaw, busted ribs, but he finished his man and then some.”
I swallowed. Blinked back tears. “He doesn’t remember it. Doesn’t remember who the guy was.”
“Not surprised, not as drunk as they say he was. Miscarriage of justice, him being convicted, if you ask me.” A glance at me. “He carryin’ guilt about it?”
I shrugged. “I think so.”
“He shouldn’t. Not a bit. His blood alcohol level, when the ambulance took him in, was somethin’ like point-three-two. Shoulda been fatal. Then the beating he took? Damned incredible he survived any of it. And that fella he killed was bad, bad, bad news. Picked that fight a’purpose, thinkin’ he’d finish the job his crew started, I guess. Revenge, maybe, seein’ as the AzTex took out his whole club.”
I blinked, but tears trickled down anyway. “The fight I watched him get into, he couldn’t have stopped it either. Couldn’t have walked away.”
“I can see how you’d be scared, though,” Mom said. “That’s not the world we raised you in.”
Lucas made a gruff sound. “A man defending himself ain’t a crime. He oughta never have gone to jail. He faced down men tryin’ to kill him, and he was so drunk he was beyond any kind of reason. And even that was understandable, given what had happened. You ask me, can’t really hold that against him. Man like him? He’d never hurt you. He’d die first.”
“But you have to remember how I raised my girls, Lucas. Violence is unfamiliar to them.”
“Cushy and sweet, which is what makes you and your girls––the ones I met so far––so attractive to men like me, like Ink, and like I figure Crow is. We like the soft and sweet. But we don’t figure we deserve it.” He held up his hands, huge, monstrously powerful hands, scarred and weathered. “We think hands like these’ll leave stains on you.”
I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “I was scared. He’s so…rough. So wild.”
Lucas rested his massive paws on my hands. “Lassoing a man like Crow is no joke, darlin’. He ain’t ever gonna be tame. You gotta know you want the man as he is, and want all of him, and know you ain’t ever gonna make him different. You cain’t. Nothin’ can.”
“I was too afraid to try, so I ran away.”
“Well, I knew Coyote well enough to know he didn’t raise no pussy. Crow might’ve let you run off, knowin’ you needed time. But ain’t no way in hell he’d let you stay gone. I’d just be countin’ the days till that hard-ass son of a bitch shows up here, lookin’ for you.” He winked. “An’ if he’s any kind of man, your ass being a little bigger is only gonna fire him up, darlin’.”
“Lucas, really.” Mom’s heart wasn’t in it, though.
I blushed. “I’ve got a feeling you’re right on that last part, at least.” I sighed. “And I can only hope you’re right on the first part.”
Crow
Sixty-two hours after leaving El Paso, I parked River Dog’s—my—truck and RV near a place called Badd’s Bar and Grille.
I’d texted Lexie asking her where I’d find Charlie, and she’d done some asking around of her own—her sister Cassie, I believe—and I got this place as the answer.
So I sat taking up too many spaces in the lot, watching the open door of the bar. It was busy inside. Bustling with tourists. Outside, a monster of a dude sporting a ponytail mohawk and WWE-worthy physique sat on a stool, arms crossed, idly watching the crowd.
I finally summoned the gumption to leave my truck, and shrugged my shoulders at the unfamiliar feel of the plain black T-shirt I was wearing. Shit, I hadn’t worn anything but that old cut in years.
I ambled to the door of the bar, and the monster on the stool glanced at me, assessing my age. “Have fun, and no trouble. I’ll toss you on your ass so fast you’ll meet your own ancestors, if you make trouble.”
“Actually, I’m looking for Charlotte Goode.”
He tilted his head, eyeing me. “Charlie?”
I nodded, swallowing. “Yeah, Charlie. Heard she may be here.”
“Depends on what you want.”
“To talk to her.”
“She wanna talk to you?” He was protective, and I got it, appreciated it in fact.
“I don’t know. Maybe not.”
He let out short, piercing whistle. “Yo, Ink!”
A truly gargantuan man ambled out—bigger than Jupiter, broad as a barn door, covered in native-style tattoos, with a long beard and long black hair, barefoot, shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts. “Yeah.” His voice was the deepest thing I’d ever heard.
“Charlie tell you about expecting anyone?”
The giant with the tats shook his head. “Naw. But I know she was dealing with some shit, and wasn’t ready to talk about it, least not with me. She may’ve told Cass about it, but not me.”
The bouncer eyed me. “You got the look of trouble, friend. Just being careful, cause she’s family, and new to it.”
I was used to looking like trouble, so I got it. “Family?”
“Of a sort, the way it is around here.” He extended his hand. “Baxter Badd.”
I shook his hand. “Crow.”
“Just Crow?”
“Just Crow.”
He nodded. “How about I call Livvie and
see what she knows. I ain’t gonna go giving out her daughter’s location till I know you’re safe.”
I nodded. “I understand. I’d do the same.”
He dialed a number. Waited as it rang. “Yo, Livvie, it’s Bax. I got a fella named Crow at the bar, askin’ to see Charlie.” He waited, listened. “Oh, okay, cool. Just bein’ sure. Cool. Where is she? Okay, I’ll send him.” He hung up, glanced at me. “She’ll see you. She’s at Cassie and Ink’s.”
I glanced at the big fella. “Well? Mind showin’ me?”
Ink stared at me, assessing me. “Why’re you here, man?”
“I love her. I let her go, and now I need to get her back.”
He nodded. “Good enough for me.” He shuffled across the road. “Come on.”
“I have my truck and trailer.”
He waved a paw in dismissal. “Nah. Walkin’s easier. Ain’t far. Plus, you ain’t gonna find many spots to park your rig.”
So I followed a tattooed giant named Ink several blocks across Ketchikan, through a closed and dark tattoo parlor, which he moved through as if he owned the place, to a tiny home built among the trees behind the strip of buildings.
I could see her, in the window. Talking to another girl who looked like her, but blond.
Ink led me in through a side door. “Cass, Charlie? Got a visitor. Cass, can I get you to come over to the shop…like, now?”
A second later, the blond woman—Cass, I assumed—squeezed past me and left with Ink.
I stopped in the doorway. More unsure of anything than I’d ever been, except that I loved this woman. “Hey, darlin’.”
She looked up. Saw me. She had a coffee cup in her hands, and it started shaking. “Crow,” she breathed. “You’re here.”
She set the mug down, carefully, and moved toward me. Stopped inches from me. “I…Crow, I should never have left. Not the way I did.”
I cupped her chin. “You did what you had to. I get it. I just…I can’t live without you.”
She blinked hard. “You rode all the way here?”
I shook my head. “Nah. I got River Dog and Mammy’s truck and trailer. I drove.”
She palmed my chest. “You’re wearing a shirt.”
“Figured it was time to leave the club behind.”
“Not for me.”
I shook my head. “Naw. For me.”
“You sold your bike?”
“Hell, no. I got it in the back of the truck.”
She gazed at me. “You can’t live without me?”
I shook my head. “Tried. Made it a month, and about went nuts. Myles fired me.”
She was shocked. “He what?”
“Had to get me to leave somehow. That was how.” I rubbed a hand through my hair. “Now I’m here, and I’m…I don’t know how this works. I just know…” I swallowed hard. “I know it’s nuts, but I—Charlie, I’m in love with you. I don’t know how to be—anything good enough for you. I can drive a truck and wear a shirt, but I’ll always be a biker, and my hands ain’t ever gonna be no cleaner.”
“My mom’s boyfriend knew your dad. He also knew the man you killed in that fight.” She held my eyes. “He was part of the club that was responsible for your parents’ death. He picked the fight on purpose, knowing who you were.”
“No shit.” I rocked back on my heels, stunned. “No shit?”
“And the fight at the bar was my fault. Or at least it was because of me. There wasn’t anything you could have done differently except get killed.” She ran her hands through my hair. “I’ve been here over a month, waiting for you.”
“Waiting?” I swallowed hard. “What do you mean, waiting?”
She touched my cheek, and my whole body lit on fire. “I love you, Crow. It is crazy. We spent, what, a couple days together? But it was enough to know I want you in my life. I don’t want you to be…anything or anyone but you.”
She stripped my shirt off. “I like you in the cut. I like you on a bike. I like being on the bike with you.” She ran her hands over my chest. “I like what we did in that bathroom…a lot. I’ve missed you. I don’t know that I can go on tour with you and Myles, but I’ll be here waiting whenever you come back.”
“Shit, woman, I don’t know where to start with any of that.” I let out a heavy sigh. “I can wear the cut if you like it—I ain’t comfortable in no stupid shirt. But I’m done with the life. I ain’t going back to the tour, either. I been recording songs for Myles at night and messaging them to him.” I swallowed. “Also been trying my hand with River Dog’s tools.”
She looked eager, excited, hopeful. “You…you have?”
I nodded. “I’m rusty, and my initial efforts with cheap wood have been pretty rough. But with some practice, I figure I can pick up where River Dog left off.” I scrubbed my jaw. “Figured maybe I could restart River Dog Custom Guitars, but as a stationary business, here in Ketchikan.” I hesitated. “That was my plan.”
She smiled. “I like that plan.”
“You do?”
“I do.” She smiled. “How do you feel about a little one-room condo facing the channel?”
“Better than the back of my Airstream, maybe.”
She scratched her nails down my chest. “Maybe.” Her voice dropped. “But maybe we go check out your trailer, just to be sure.”
My hands came to rest on her waist. “It can’t be this easy, can it?”
She shrugged. “For now, yes. Later, we’ll have to cross some bridges together.”
“Together, though.”
“Together.” She palmed my cheek. “Just…you have to know, Crow—I will never ask you to change. So don’t, okay?”
“I already have, darlin’.” I tugged her by the hand. “Come on. Let’s go find somewhere remote to park the trailer.”
We bumped into Ink and Cassie at the back of the shop, talking quietly.
As if he knew what we needed, Ink spoke up. “Take the highway north a few miles. There’s some side roads you can park on. Nice and secluded.”
“Thanks,” I said, but my attention was on Charlie.
On the look in her eyes. The hunger, the heat.
Yeah, just a few more miles to go.
I parked the truck a few miles down a deserted one-lane dirt road that, according to the maps, didn’t lead much of anywhere. Nothing but trees and scrub as far as the eye could see.
The old engine ticked, and the cab was quiet.
“Wanna see the trailer?” I said, my voice feeling too loud in the quiet cab.
“I just want you,” she whispered. “Here, on the ground outside, anywhere. I just want you.”
She was wearing a skirt, short and black and pleated, with a blousy white button-down shirt. Been looking at those legs of hers the whole drive here, wondering what she had on under that skirt.
I kept my eyes on hers. Slid my hand over the bench, onto her knee. She bit her lower lip. Let her knees fall open, a few inches. As much of an invitation as I needed.
I grazed my palm up her thigh, bringing the skirt with it. Higher, higher.
Exposed her sex—bare.
“Damn, girl.”
“I haven’t worn underwear in weeks, hoping each day you would show up, and…and want me. Want this.”
“Want ain’t the word, babe,” I said, dragging a finger up her soaked slit. “Need is the word.”
She slid lower on the bench, opening her thighs. Gazed at me. “I need you too, Crow. Need you more than you know.” She licked her lips. “I’ve made myself come every night since I left you, wishing my fingers were yours.” Bold as you please, god love her. “Wishing it was your mouth.”
“My mouth, huh?”
There wasn’t much room in the cab, but I’d been dreaming of her for too long to wait any longer. I grabbed her, twisted her onto her back. She went willingly, spreading her legs open. I pushed her skirt up. Went to my belly, awkward and too big for this little cab, brought her to my mouth. Her fingers went into my hair, and she sighed.
“Oh, thank god,” she breathed, as I tasted her sweet sex. “Thank god.”
I laughed, and flicked her clit, slid two fingers into her. “Wanting this real bad, huh?”
She just arched, flexed her hips to drive her sex into my mouth, knotting her fingers in my hair.
“You have no idea, Crow. My fingers just don’t do anything near as good as your mouth. God, I’m gonna come already.”
I tasted her as she came, a small shaking precursor to what I was gonna do to her.
I kept her going, through the orgasm, into the next one, and would have tongued her to as many as her body could handle, wanting her to come and to come and to come, just relishing the feel of her, the sound of her voice as she gasped and sobbed through her orgasms.
“Enough, god, enough,” she gasped, pushing my face away. “I need a break.”
She reached up, found the door handle and opened it, sliding backward and out of the truck. She waited for me. I followed, my jeans tight and aching.
“God, Charlie,” I said, staring at her as she stood in the evening light, sun bathed golden-red. “You are so fucking gorgeous.”
She looked around. Saw that we were the only ones on the little road, and likely the only ones there ever would be. She bit her lip around a shy yet seductive grin. Peeled her shirt up, revealing a lacy white bra, nearly sheer and showing her little pink nipples standing hard. Unzipped her skirt. Stepped out of it. Tossed them past me into the truck cab. Stood in just that white bra, no underwear, thighs touching, lip caught in her teeth. Yanked that bra off, tossed it past me. Stood naked in the sunlight.
Big pale breasts hanging heavy, swaying with her ragged breathing. Her sex a slit hazed by close-trimmed black fuzz. Thighs strong, thick. Hips perfect curves.
“I fuckin’ need you, Charlie,” I growled, reaching for her.
“You just got me.”
“Not what I mean, and you fuckin’ know it.”
She sidled closer to me. “There’s one thing I’ve been really fantasizing about, ever since I left.”
“What’s that, babe?”
She sank to her knees on the dirt road, reached for my belt buckle. “Finishing what I started, that day on the tour bus.”
Not So Goode Page 25
