Taming Crow (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club) (4 page)

“It's okay then! My mom can give you a bowl of just plain ice cream.” The boy smiled in apparent relief. “You don't have to have the happy ending part. Sometimes Mr. Murphy just gets plain ice cream too. Right, Mr. Murphy? Tell ‘im. Tell ‘im how you sometimes just get plain ice cream.”

“What the fu—?”Crow turned to Patrick then looked at Jett and adjusted his language. “What’s he talking about?”

“Happy endings is the name Jett gave to the special ice cream toppings I make,” Melissa told him. “In our house that’s all that it means.”

And that’s all it will ever mean, you self-righteous ass
, she wanted to add.

Then she stepped forward and drew her son away from Crow. “Honey, why don’t you go in and get your fishing pole ready?”

“Mom, is he still going to make us move?” Jett whispered to her. “I don’t wanna go. I like it here.”

“Don’t worry, honey. Mr. Mathison is just a little confused. I’m going take a minute to explain a few things to him, and it will be all right.”

“Come on, Jett. Let’s go on in and find that pole,” Patrick nudged him toward the house.

But Jett would not be so easily dissuaded. Melissa groaned inwardly as she saw the stubborn expression settle down on her son’s face. She was all too familiar with that look.

“Do you like to fish?” Jett looked up at Crow. When he didn't respond, Jett took another step towards him, snaked his small hand into Crow's larger one and tugged on it. Melissa noticed a thin delicately braided bracelet circled his muscled wrist. She hoped Jett would not comment on the skulls adorning it.

“Yeah. I like to fish,” Crow answered.

“I’m going fishing with mom in the pond later. If you don’t make us move you can come with us. I’ll even let you use my fishing pole. I got two. Well, one is broken. But you can use my new one.”

“That’s enough Jett,” Melissa pulled her son away more firmly this time. “Mr. Mathison is only here for a short visit. He won’t have time to fish.”

“Come on Jett, let’s go rig that pole,” Patrick put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

That’s when Jett threw out his very last bargaining chip.

“I’ll even show you where to dig for night crawlers,” he called out with hope.

Melissa caught Jett’s eye and glanced towards the house. When she saw the slump of his small shoulders as he walked down the path, she felt sick.

“Tell me about the business.” Crow looked at her.

“What do you want to know?” Melissa frowned slightly.

Crow remained silent.

“Okay… um… well …’’ Melissa started nervously. “It’s just a little startup enterprise right now. And I guess it’s been a little slower getting off the ground than I had originally thought it would be, but I’m hopeful once that I’m established things will get better. I think with time…”

Melissa knew her voice had trailed off but she just couldn’t help it.

Because although she did her best to answerall of the big ma
n’
s arrogantly asked questions, her thoughts had turned to slapping him soundly for putting her through an embarrassing and unnecessary interrogation.

She longed to wipe that insulting look off his face, but because at the moment he held her immediate future in his hands she made herself continue.

“Look, what I think is most important for you to understand is that there is nothing happening here that should not be happening.”

Still no response from him. Damn.

Melissa narrowed her eyes as she powered the through the pounding in her head.

“I know that I shouldn't be running a business out of a rented property without permission. I know I should have asked first, but that is as far as any impropriety goes. Having this allows me to be home with my son. Otherwise, I would have arrange day care for the times that he is not in school. We don’t have any family here and Jett has some health issues. It’s important that I’m home for him. I’m a good tenant; I’m always on time with the rent. I live a quiet life and I do what I can to keep up the place at my own expense.”

Even though it needs a ton of work and not one dollar of the rent money I have scraped and saved to pay you has gone for any of the repairs or the furnishings I was promised.

Crow crossed his arms, still not giving an indication otherwise that he had even heard her.

Melissa decided to wait him out. Her tone had taken on Jett’s pleading one and she didn’t like hearing it. She was not going to beg. It seemed like forever that Melissa stood in front of Crow and stared at a lesser version of herself in those damned sunglasses.

Finally, he lifted his chin toward the small pond in back of the property.

“There’s fish in that pond?”

“Yes, there is. I had it stocked for Jett when we moved in,” Melissa explained and wondered if this too was going to be a problem.

“Your boy’s a little young to know how to hook a line.”

“I taught him. He’s small for his age, but he’s smart and he remembers things,” Melissa answered. As if this dark angel would know anything about children.

Crow nodded.

Thinking of Jett, Melissa steered the conversation back to what mattered.

“Look, if you really want me to, I'll shut down the business and look for a job somewhere in town. I'll make it work. It won't be easy, but I'd rather do that than uproot my son.” Melissa's voice broke slightly. “All I ask is that you take some time to consider and don’t base your decision on something that you
think
is happening here — something that would
never
happen here.”

Melissa let out a long sigh and hoped that Crow would see reason.

It seemed like forever before he spoke.

“Been a long time since I’ve been fishing. Smart of you to stock that pond. I wouldn’t have thought of that,” Crow conceded.

Really? You just want to talk about fishing?
Melissa thought, but saw an in and took it.

“The pond's perfect for casting a line and I cleared a path that leads right to it.” Melissa answered quickly and worried the ring on the chain around her neck. “There's some chairs out there, too…” Then Melissa paused before she added, “I should probably let you know that the pole that Jett offered you has Mickey Mouse for a reel.”

Crow went stock still for just a minute. Then he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth. Melissa had the distinct impression he was hiding a laugh and she didn’t like it.

Then just as quickly that impression was gone.

“As long as we’re both real clear on what’s happening and not happening here, you and your boy can stay.
I’
ve got to tell you though, I’m not a big fan of being poked in the gut.”

“No one is,” Melissa agreed readily before she added, “I know that all parents say this, but I have never seen him do anything like that before. I'll have a talk with him.”

Melissa held her breath while he looked at her for another long minute before saying, “I think you and I will get along just fine, then.”

Relieved now, Melissa extended her hand to shake his, hoping to hurry him on his way. And then his words hit her like a bucket of water. She pulled her hand back quickly.

“Get along? We won’t have to worry about getting along, Mr. Mathison. I go to Patrick for anything I need.”

“Yeah? Well from now on you’ll be coming to me,” Crow told her.

“Does Patrick know about this?” Melissa asked.

“He will,” Crow shot back.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

When minutes later, she heard the loud, angry roar of a motorcycle’s full throttle, Melissa let out a long, jagged sigh. She headed home with a heavy heart—where men like Crow Mathison went, nothing but trouble ever followed.

Suddenly, a strong, cool breeze sprang out from out of nowhere.Meliss
a’
s eyes followed the path of the gusty wind as it twisted a delicate wind chime until it was hopelessly tangled. She jumped as a loud clap of thunder startled the raven from his home in the old oak tree, and the small gate leading to the pond swung open with a creak of its hinges.

Melissa quickened her step as the first heavy drops of rain began to fall from what had been a clear blue sky just moments ago.

The sudden and dramatic change in weather only served to confirmMeliss
a’
s worse fears.

Crow Mathison had not only come to town, but he had brought a storm with him.

No doubt about it.

Crow floored it and headed to the Fallsview chapter of the Hells Saints Brotherhood.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

Melissa
Raymoor

Plain fucking Jane, maybe, with those too-big overalls, those throwback pink wire-rimmed sunglasses and that ridiculous amount of curly dark blond hair that sat on top of her head like an eagle's nest. The woman looked like she needed a good meal too.

But mousy? Nah. Not when it came down to what mattered. She had stood up to Crow in a way he knew some men wouldn't have had the balls to do.

“… I know that I shouldn’t be running a business out of rented property without permission, but that is as far as any impropriety goes.”

Who the fuck talked like that anymore?

And even though he had flung that insulting insinuation at her about the business, Crow knew the minute he saw Melissa that she was no whore.

But he had called her out on it anyway.

He had called her out on it and had made the frightened little mother fight to stay in that shitty little cottage that she had somehow managed to make into a home for herself and her son. He had brought out that pleading sound in her voice.

Crow had made Melissa fight to stay. And he had gotten off on it.

Jesus. When had he become such a twisted asshole?

No more playing cat and mouse with Melissa Raymoor.

Yeah. Good luck telling that to his dick.

When Crow felt the bike fish-tail on a sandy patch of road, he realized that he was at full throttle. He knew that he better slow his ass down and forget about the events of the last couple of days if he was going to get to the clubhouse in one piece.

Feeling that, he took a deep breath, leaned back and began to enjoy the view along the coastal highway. Crow had always liked the clubhouse in Fairview. He had spent some time there when he was building the house in Havengate. If things had worked out between him and Jaci, this would have been his home base club and Jury would have been his president.

Jury was Prosper’s age, which put him in his early sixties—one of the seven original members. In Crow's opinion, he was also one of the most dangerous ones. A smart, ruthless fucker with a whole boatload of junkyard-dog-crazy just lurking below the surface. Crow had thought more than once that the only thing that stood between Jury and a maximum security prison cell was his woman. Jury and Alison had been together forever and it was no secret that she kept him in line.

Crow pulled into the narrow dirt road that led to the small compound. He backed his bike beside the line of Harleys, lit up a smoke, walked over to the edge of the cliff and took in the view.

He was not surprised when he felt a hand land hard on his shoulder.

“Went out to take a piss the other night and almost fell off the edge right where you’re standing,” said a low gravelly voice.

“No shit?” Crow turned and grinned at the man standing next to him.

“No shit.” Jury grinned back. “Doc says I got vertigo. Makes me dizzier than hell sometimes. Booze don’t help. Sucks getting old.”

“Wouldn’t know since I’m still in the prime of my goddamn youth.” Crow smirked.

“No one’s as young as they used to be, Brother. But I see you’re still a cocky bastard. Just like your prez. How’s the old fucker doing? I told him to get his ass out here, but he said you’d be representing.” Jury brought a flask to his mouth, took a long pull and threw Crow a speculative look. “Thought Prosper would want to make the trip himself to get a feel where the brothers stand on the Aces-Olcas situation. It’s starting to look like the club is going to have to decide whether to back black or brown real soon. Could be looking at a turf war. And if that happens the Saints are gonna be right smack in the middle of it.”

“Prosper’s aware.” Crow assured him. “He’s been reaching out to his contacts in law enforcement trying to get a handle on who’s hotter on the Feds’ radar. Nobody wants them breathing down our necks ‘cause we bet on the wrong horse. Boss told me to tell you he’ll reach out in the next week or so. In the meantime, he wants you to get a read on what’s going on in Miami with Derringer. And he wants to know who Beast’s considering for VP in the Keys while Romeo does his time.”

“Why’s Prosper give a fuck about Beast’s VP? Seems like that should be Beast’s business.” Jury shot out. “This over-stepping shit, even coming from the boss, won’t go down easy with the boys.”

“Well, then you tell the boys to relax,” Crow answered calmly. “Prosper just wants to make sure the club is all buttoned up before we get into it. That’s all that is. You know the drill.”

Jury did not seem convinced so Crow continued.

“With you and me here to mind the store, Prosper figured his time could be better spent tightening shit up. But you think he needs to be here, just say the word,” Crow added diplomatically.

Jury seemed to relax then. “Nah. I’m good with you carrying his proxy.”

“Appreciate the confidence, Brother. Where we stand with a time frame?” Crow adopted a business tone.

“Waiting for my man to report in and giving him the time he needs to do that. It’s in our best interest to have all the information we can before I call it. I’m thinking we are looking at about two, maybe three weeks out for the meet. You gonna stick around the clubhouse?”

“Nah. But I won’t be far.” Crow flicked the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. “Gonna be in Havengate.”

“What’s in fucking Havengate?” Jury snorted. “You wanna stay here and party down with your boys.”

Crow shook his head. “I got business.”

“Club business?” Jury’s eyes narrowed.

“Nah.” Crow answered thinking,
there it is...that paranoia shit again.
“Got some personal business I’ve got to handle.”

Jury folded his arms and cast Crow a suspicious glare.

Yep. Paranoid fucker all right.

“Remember that property I bought a few years back?”

Jury shook his head. “Don’t recall.”

“Brother, you should. You helped me with the roofing,” Crow replied.

“Damn. Yeah. That’s right.” Jury grinned suddenly. “Would give my left nut to be able to do that shit again without feeling the world spin under me. Nice piece of land if I remember. Thought your woman had it now...what the fuck was her name?”

“Jaci.”

“Yeah. That’s right, Jaci.” Jury looked at him. “ Shit, I haven’t thought about her in years. She still around?”

“No. Italy... or maybe France. Some fucking Riviera.” Crow looked out at the ocean.

“Finally got quit of her, huh? I remember when you used to bring her around. Easy to look at. The old lady liked her.”

“You fuckin’ with me?” Crow swung around to Jury because as far as he knew nobody liked Jaci. She had hated sharing Crow with the Hells Saints Brotherhood. And the fact that she made that clear every chance she got, had not exactly endeared her to the club.

“No I ain’t fucking with you. Surprised the shit out of me too, ‘cause I always thought Jaci was a snooty pain in the ass. But you know that my woman grew up in the system too, right? First man I ever wanted to kill was that fuckhead foster father of hers. And from what I remember Alison telling me, your bitch didn’t have it any better. Not easy being a kid and growing up carrying all your shit around in a garbage bag. But I sure as hell don’t have to tell you that. From what I remember you were no more than skin an’ bones when Prosper took you in.”

“And because of that I tried to give her all the shit she never had before. For fucking years I tried to give her that. The more I gave, the more she took,” Crow shot back at him.

Then Crow looked Jury in the eye and said honestly, “I gotta to tell you, man, seeing that house in the neglectful state she left it in? That just about killed me.”

Crow’s body tensed as he thought about the sadly neglected property. A part of him had known that it hadn’t meant jack to his ex. But he had wanted to give it one last shot. Give
her
one last shot at a chance of having something good for herself.

Because Jury was right.

Crow knew better than anyone else just how Jaci felt coming from where she did. It had cut Crow up pretty bad inside when he had finally realized that whatever was broken inside her could not be fixed.

Not by him anyway.

He had made the mistake of turning his back on all his hard work on the house once and he knew that he would be a real fuck up to do it again. The offer to relax and party down with the club for the next couple of weeks was tempting, but Prosper had been right, it was time that Crow manned up and took care of his own.

Crow turned to Jury.

“So you want to put on a party hat and keep strollin’ down memory lane or you gonna buy a brother a goddamn drink?”

Jury clapped Crow on the back with a laugh and let the way into the clubhouse.

***

Crow stayed on at the clubhouse for a couple of days and found out that he still liked the feel of the Fallsview chapter. It was smaller than the one back home, which suited him just fine. Less bullshit. He liked the coastal highway the clubhouse sat on, and he liked that the club pussy hung back unless told otherwise. He got reacquainted with the boys, played a few hands of poker, and went out on a couple of short runs. It was all good. Crow was feeling pretty relaxed by the time he decided to head back. He had a lot to do if he was going to make that place habitable and ready to sell. It was time.

As he roared down the road his thoughts turned once again to Melissa. He couldn't remember what Murphy had told him about how her husband had died. Something about the Army, or maybe it was the Air Force.

Crow didn't give a fuck.

Dead is dead.

Though he had noticed the wedding ring that Melissa wore on a chain around her neck and the way she had clutched at it when he had scared her. He wondered about the gesture, but then in the next second he dismissed the thought.

Because really he had enough of his own shit to deal with.

What was that saying Pinky was always throwing around?
Not my monkey. Not my circus
.