Taming Crow (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club) (20 page)

In the interest of Claire's peace of mind, Reno McCabe had worked closely with Crow to create a series of strict security plans. These modifications had turned the home into a veritable fortress. But Crow had known that it wasn't only Claire's sense of well-being that Reno was safeguarding. Brother had almost lost his woman twice. Once when
she
got kidnapped and once when
he
got shot. By the same goddamn family no less. Reno wasn’t taking any more chances and Crow didn’t blame him. Not one damn bit.

Now he sat with his brother on the deck overlooking an impressive piece of manicured lawn.

“Nice place.” Crow tipped the bottled beer to Reno in appreciation. “It all came together even better than I thought it would.”

Reno nodded and looked around. “Yeah. I kinda get off on doing the whole landscaping thing. Who would have thought?”

He grinned and raised his bottle. At the motion, he winced slightly.

Crow nodded to Reno’s shoulder. “Still bothering you?”

Reno shook his head and put a hand on his shoulder, rotating the arm in a slow motion. “Fucking range of the movement just never came back. Hurts like hell when it rains, shit like that. But it's all good, Brother.” Then he leaned back and took a hit from the beer. “Been thinking a lot about the Colombian situation. I'm glad the vote fell on the side of the club backing the Aces. I know Lucius's crew got absorbed into the Olcas, but I’m still uneasy about those sneaky fucks. I don’t trust any of them.”

“I’m with you there,” Crow told him.

Then Reno passed Crow the joint and said thoughtfully, “You know back in the day, the mob would have wiped out a whole bloodline for the shit that Lucius’s family pulled on mine. They had the right goddamn idea.”

“Yeah. That
Godfather
shit…I get it.” Crow nodded and drew deep. “So your mom still tight with Abiatti?”

Reno grimaced and muttered. “Don’t even get me started, man.”

“Don’t get you started on what?” Claire walked onto the deck bringing with her a tray of sandwiches and some salads.”

“The Wop and Ma,
”
Reno snarled.

“Oh, that.” Claire grinned.

Crow reached for a sandwich and realized he was starving. He checked his phone for the millionth time since his earlier conversation with Jett.

Nothing.

He knew he probably should have gotten on the road over an hour ago, but Crow had felt it was important to make this stop first. Because if any two people had gone through some shit, it had been Reno and Claire. Crow wanted to know what life looked life for them now that they were on the other side of that.

Seeing them together now, made Crow think that maybe he and Melissa...
Crow felt his chair almost kicked out from under him.

“Just asked you three times to pass me a goddamn sandwich, Brother. Must be you got pussy on your mind.”

“Reno! Not everything is about that.” Claire slugged her husband.

“Yeah it is,” Reno and Crow both answered at the same time.

Claire just laughed and shook her head.

***

When Crow pulled into the compound, Jules was in front of the clubhouse with a wrench in his hand.

“What’s up with the bike?” Crow swung a leg over the seat of the Harley.

“Just got done putting in a throttle cable. It was getting really sloppy. Worn and stretched like a two-dollar whore. Needed to be replaced.” Jules hoisted the large tool box up and started heading towards the garage.

“Uh-huh. How’s everything else on her doing?” Crow asked.

“Good. She’s tight.” Jules kept walking. “But since I just rode across two damn states with you a couple of days ago, you know that. You wanna know what I had for breakfast too?”

“Jesus, man. Why you gotta be such a hostile prick? Thought you were a healer. Gentle giant shit and stuff.” Crow grinned.

Jules ignored him and went into the garage and came back out again. Crow was fiddling with the saddlebags on the bike, getting ready to leave.

“She say how long she’s staying?” Jules kept his eyes on that fixed throttle cable.

And there it was.

Crow kept his tone casual. “Not long. Maybe a couple of days.”

“She say when she's coming back?” Jules shot out.

“Nah. Said she's still working on that.” Crow pulled the strap on the bag tight. He glanced over at Jules's clenched jaw. The poor bastard still had it bad for her. Crow knew the feeling all too well, so he threw Jules a life line.

“I’m headed back. Starting out later than I wanted to, but I’m still hoping to get in front of the weather. Figured I’d get as far as I can, then pull over somewhere if I have to,” Crow said.

Jules grunted.

“Could use some help finishing up that pain in the ass insulation …” Crow pulled on his riding gloves.

“Why the hell you think I replaced the throttle?” Jules kept his face blank.

Crow grinned at Jules. It took a minute, but Jules smirked back.

“You ready to ride, Brother?” Crow asked above the sound of his engine.

“Yeah.” Jules revved the throttle. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

Melissa was distraught. Distraught, distressed, dismayed and disgusted. And she hadn't even begun to work her way through the rest of the D's yet. She figured she had twenty-two more letters to go before she could even begin find all the words that were needed to adequately describe how Tommy's visit had affected her. However, in reviewing her alphabetized list, she realized that she had left one out.

And the word was bitchy. Yeah. That was it. She had missed bitchy. She tucked it into the missing space between banged up and blindsided. Sticking it in there made her feel less like prey and more like a predator.

Bitch was a strong word in any form. And she was going to add it.

Because it was better to be the hunter than the hunted, the slayer than the slain.

It was better to be the living than the dead.

Wasn’t it?

Melissa had to keep reminding herself of that. Because the emotions that she had worked so hard to overcome had lifted their ugly heads again. Misery clung to her like a coat of sickly-sweet cotton candy that she couldn't wash off.

She wished she had never gone to that damn carnival.

Because the few minutes of freeing exhilaration she had experienced on the stupid rollercoaster did not even come close to the painful memories that seeing Tommy evoked. And she hadn’t even dealt with the worst of it yet.

Not even close.

The worst of it sat in a drawer by her bed.

Waiting.

The worst of it lay inside of a hand-delivered, wrinkled envelope that had
To Mel from Jesse
written  in handwriting that she had thought she would never see again.

Her husband had reached out from the beyond the grave to say a final goodbye. But Melissa couldn't find the strength that it would take to open the carefully sealed envelope and read his last words to her.

It had been past two days since Tommy had come to bring the letter to Melissa. In those forty-eight hours she thought that she might go crazy with remembered grief and waves of resurfaced guilt.

Thoughts of what might be in that letter filled her with sorrow.

And terror.

She had to get a hold of herself.

Melissa took a deep, jagged breath and sat down at the kitchen table. She had seen her son off that morning on the much-anticipated camping trip. Jett had been so excited when she had taken him shopping for his new little camping gear. She had tried her best to mirror his happiness, but Jett had seen right through it.

Melissa had woken up to find that her little boy had tucked himself into her bed during the night and was sleeping beside her. So much for putting on a brave front. It was all she could do to get him on the bus this morning. Melissa knew that Jett's memory of his first campout would be forever colored by his mother's cowardly display of emotion.

Another thing to add to the long list of transgressions that Melissa would never forgive herself for.

Enough.

A tiny brave voice inside her heart seemed to suddenly break through and grab hold. Melissa stood a little straighter and gave the small voice room to grow. She needed to get herself back to a better place before her child came back from his first overnight smelling wonderfully of smoky campfires and canned bug repellent.

That letter and all the emotions that came with it would just have to wait a little longer. It would have to wait until she had once again gathered her strength enough so that the reading of it  would not send her into a tailspin of emotion.

She could do it, she was sure that she could.

It might just take a little time.

After all it’s not like anyone’s life depended on it.
Melissa armed herself with a small bit of graveyard humor and actually felt a little better for it. She decided to start her day with a long hot shower. After twenty minutes of full on hot steam, she slathered herself in scented lotion. Then Melissa rifled through her closet until she found a cute sundress that she had no business wearing to clean the house. But the cotton eyelet was bright yellow and dotted with sweet little colorful daisies, woven through and through with optimism. Melissa thought that wearing something that exuded that much happiness was a good place to start.

She began to feel better as she gathered up the laundry and made her way down the narrow steps to the kitchen. A heavy deluge of wind and rain had hit the area the night before. The cracks in the stone foundation of the cottage allowed for streams of ground water to flood the basement. Now the dank, musty, smell of wet earth married with the decay of rotting wood and wafted through the house. Melissa had had a sump pump installed when she moved in, but it didn't always work. That wet, moldy smell was not good for Jett. She hoped that by the time he came back everything would be dried out.

Melissa had a fleeting thought that she should probably grab a flashlight and make sure that the pump had powered on in the basement. She made her way towards the back of the kitchen. She balanced the laundry basket on her hip and her free hand clutched the liquid soap. She saw through the window that the rain had lifted and the sun was trying to break through.

When her toe suddenly caught the end of the frayed throw rug on the kitchen floor, Melissa let out a loud cry of alarm. Laundry, basket and soap all went flying and she found herself propelled forward in a long, hard stumble. It seemed forever before her foot landed hard. When it did, she felt her instep continue to smash right through the layers of rotten floor boards. She gasped as a burning pain seared up her leg and soft skin shredded against exposed splintered wood and God only knew what else. The sound of fabric ripping split the air. For just a moment, Melissa thought that she was going to fall right through to the basement.

Goddamn it.

Instinctively, Melissa yanked her leg quickly out of the hole and scooted herself back against the cupboard. It took some time for her to steady the pounding in her head and quiet the loud beating of her heart.

When the threat of dizzying nausea finally passed, Melissa took inventory.

The happy little dress had a tear in it about a foot long from where it had caught on one of the rusted penny nails that stuck out from the splintered hole in the floor. Deep scrapes and long scratches bloodied her thigh. The colorful daisies were quickly becoming all the same dull rust color.

Not so damn happy anymore.

Melissa winced as she got on her hands and knees. Then she peered through the opening in the floor. Apart from the rafter that stopped her fall, she could see straight through to the wet basement. Tears of frustration filled her eyes when she saw that her brand new, twenty-five dollar sandal had been torn from her foot and now lay in a pile of dirty, muddy water. The stench blasting up from the dank cellar hit Melissa in the face with the force of a baseball bat.

Perfect.

She carefully hoisted herself up and kicked off her other shoe. Then she half stomped, half limped over to the drawer that held the first aid kit. She glanced out the window and threw a glare over to Crow's house.

He was still gone.

Must be nice for him to be able to come and go at will like a goddamn alley cat.

Melissa let out a heavy sigh and rifled through the various bandages and creams. But thinking about Crow made Melissa begin to sting in other places. Nothing in the first aid kit was going to help with that.

As she poured some peroxide wash over the deep long scrapes, Melissa thought again about the last time she had seen him. One minute Crow had been standing in her bedroom sharing a bit of his history and giving her the tiniest glimpse of what made him…
him
…
and the next minute he was gone. He had walked out right in the middle of whatever it was that had been happening between them. A conversation? A discussion? An argument that never quite started or stopped and just sort of ended in the middle? Was there even a name for that?

Melissa didn't know for sure, but she knew that she was sick of thinking about it.

So tired of it …Crow and Tommy and even Jesse.

Damn. Them. All.

She leaned against the kitchen counter and lifted the hem of her skirt higher.

Ouch.

She continued to do her best to clean out the long scrapes and scratches. She gnashed her teeth with every sweep of antiseptic and gauze. One really deep gash on her thigh didn’t seem to want to stop bleeding.

Thank goodness she had had a tetanus booster not too long ago,
she thought as she eyed the long rusted nail jutting out from the rotting splintered floor board.

Her hair fell in wild disarray around her face and she had to keep pushing it back out of her eyes every time she leaned over.

Annoying.

Melissa rummaged through her kitchen junk drawer searching for an errant hair band, but keeping with the luck of the day, she found none.

There was nothing.

Not a clip. Not a tie.

Nothing.

She thought about trudging back up the stairs to the bathroom, but the stinging in her leg and the dizziness in her head stopped her. She took another angry swipe at the heavy hair and lifted it off her neck. Then her eyes lit on the head of broccoli that was sitting on the cutting board waiting patiently to be chopped and frozen.

Bingo.

Melissa took great satisfaction in hacking the vegetable's head from its stems with a sharp flat knife and freeing the band that held it together. She ignored the little pieces of green that hung desperately to the elastic and twisted the band into the mass of long, damp corkscrew curls that sprang around her head like Medusa's serpents.

There. That was better.

Next Melissa hobbled over to the cabinet and pulled out the bottle of whiskey that she kept for occasions just like this. She poured herself a healthy shot and slugged it back hard. She almost heaved when it landed with a splash in her empty stomach. A shudder permeated through every fiber of her body. As she wiped the booze-induced tears from the corner of her eyes, she caught her reflection in the glass of the cupboard.

Her hair stuck up out of her head like a spouting fountain. Her mascara had run and created long streaks of black down her cheeks. Her bottom lip was red and swollen where she had bitten into it and her front tooth was slightly stained with blood. Melissa's eyes volleyed back to the ridiculous amount of hair springing up from the elastic and she was reminded of
Daisy-Head Mayzie
that confused Dr. Seuss character who had a flower growing straight up from the middle of her head.

Yeah, she looked like
Daisy-Head Mayzie
all right.

On Crack.

Melissa poured herself a double and steeled herself to look at her leg again.

She decided it needed some ice.

The whiskey.

Not the leg.

Well, maybe the leg too.

Reeling from the booze and adrenalin, Melissa stood before the bag of ice that sat on the top of the counter. She looked around her and felt a giggle born of hysteria erupt from somewhere deep inside. The cubes in the bag were all clumped together like a mini glacier. She grabbed an ancient ice pick from the kitchen drawer and began to hack.

Furiously.

And there Melissa stood for the next few minutes… laughing and hacking and drinking the whiskey until a resounding knock on the side of the open door shook her out of her reverie.

“Hello? Helllooooo? Are you in there?” An obnoxiously high-pitched voice with an affected Italian accent called out to her from the screen door.

Melissa recognized the tone before she recognized the voice. Then she caught a glimpse of a bejeweled manicured hand and expensively highlighted hair.

A heavy perfume wafted in.

Melissa looked once again into the glass at her crazed Dr. Seuss-like character reflection.

“Helloooo? Is anybody home? Uh… Melinda? ” The obnoxious voice grew exponentially louder. Louder because the woman was now standing just inside the door of Melissa’s kitchen.

Of course, it had to be
her
. Crow’s ex-wife.

Just perfect.

Turning up again after all this time. Just like a bad penny.

“My name is Melissa,” Melissa responded with a shake of her head.

“Isn’t that what I said?” Jaci waved a dismissive hand in Melissa’s general direction. Then she arched a perfect brow. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I just fell through the floor. The rotted floor of the house I rent from you and your ex.” Melissa heard her own voice through a haze of hysteria-induced calmness. Then she turned around and motioned with the ice pick to the gaping hole in the middle of the kitchen.

Jaci gasped and stared at Melissa with concern etched all over her face. Seeing that, Melissa had a fleeting thought that maybe she had misjudged Jaci after all. But before that thought had finished, Jaci said, “You aren’t going to sue us, are you?”

Melissa had had enough. Her mouth formed a grim line as she took a step towards Jaci and her hand tightened around the sharp skewer.