Crash by Jeanne St. James
Chapter Twelve
“Those boys looklike they’ll be heartbreakers,” she murmured as her and Crash moved slowly to the music. More grinding than dancing since the band’s cover of Man in the Box by Alice in Chains was hard to dance to and most bikers didn’t “dance.” Or at least didn’t admit to knowing how. Mostly, they considered it a type of foreplay. Or a way to get in a woman’s pants.
Once again Crash had an erection even after they’d found a quiet spot in the dark—out of any small human’s curious eyes—to relieve him of his last one.
After filling their stomachs with tender, fall-off the bone pork, delicious sides, cold beer and then sharing a blunt, they found a dark corner of the courtyard to spend some more time in each other’s arms. The grinding only an excuse for them to touch each other.
She noticed the two boys hanging out together, laughing, talking and eating non-stop like teenage boys tended to do.
“Yeah. They’re both at the age they’re noticin’ girls. Wouldn’t be surprised if Zeke pops his cherry soon.”
“Really? How old is he?” He didn’t seem old enough to be having sex. Or even be interested in it.
“Fourteen. Ash is about a year behind him. Little Z is our prez’s oldest, Ash our VP’s boy. Those two are always connected at the hip. More like brothers than cousins.”
“Fourteen’s young to lose his virginity.”
“Don’t think it’s happened yet, but he’s learnin’ to work the girls like a fuckin’ boss. Don’t hurt he’s got the looks. Ain’t a dumb kid, either. Can see him takin’ his father’s spot at the head of the table one day.”
Is that what bikers wanted for their kids? To be bikers? To continue the tradition? She supposed they did. For these guys, being a biker was a lifestyle not a hobby.
“I hate that kids are forced to grow up so quickly now. I wish they’d take their time and enjoy being a kid before they find themselves suddenly at the age where they get swamped with responsibilities.”
“Yeah.”
“Like being the president of the MC,” she added dryly.
“It’s in his blood. He was born to lead. Born to be a biker. His great-grandpappy was one of the DAMC’s founders back in ’74.”
“Wow.” She hadn’t realized his MC was established so long ago.
“So, it’s only natural for him to take control of the gavel, but it’ll be awhile yet. Zak’s a good president and no one wants that fuckin’ spot but him.”
“No one’s ever challenged him for it?”
Crash hesitated. “Not quite challenged him, no.”
It sounded like there was a story behind that answer. “It’s in Trip’s blood, too, since his father was the former president. I’m sure when he has sons, he’ll want them to do the same. Though, from all the stories told, Buck was a tyrant with an explosive temper. Part of the reason why the original Fury crashed and burned.”
“Z’s laid-back. Takes the punches as they come, shakes it off and keeps movin’ forward.”
“You respect him.”
“Yeah,” Crash breathed into her ear.
“You have a good life.”
“The best, Sunny.”
Every time he called her that, she smiled. She really liked her new “road name.” She was glad he saw her as a positive, sunny person and not only as a sweet butt.
After the band finished the song, the courtyard became quiet, then a murmur went through the thick crowd of bikers, their women and children.
Crash turned her in his arms and, with one arm across her shoulders, pulled her back into his chest to hold her against him as they watched the woman who had sung at the ceremony yesterday climb the makeshift steps to the flatbed tow truck where the band had set up. When she went directly to the microphone stand in the center, it was one of the few times all weekend the crowd went completely silent.
Which, for this size group, was a bit eerie.
The petite blonde turned around and said something to the lead singer, received an answering chin lift and a grin, then faced the audience again.
With her face tipped down, her eyes closed and one hand resting on the mic, the music started, she lifted her head, opened her eyes and began to sing.
“Holy shit,” escaped Liz on a breath.
As chills shot through her, Crash pulled her even tighter against his chest and tucked her head under his chin as they listened.
“Yeah.”
“What’s her name?” she whispered as softly as she could to not drown out the soul-stirring version of the song she recognized right away.
“Jazz.”
The song Jazz sung wasn’t anything current. In fact, just the opposite. Liz had heard it many times before since it was tied to the flick The Mask of Zorro. But her spin on it with her haunting and unforgettable voice made I Want to Spend My Lifetime Loving You, the original duet sung by Marc Anthony and Tina Arena, oh so much more special.
The lead singer and guitarist of Dirty Deeds, a Dirty Angel named Nash, stood just to the side and behind Jazz using his raspy rocker voice for backup vocals, but gave the stage’s spotlight solely to Jazz for her to stand out and shine.
The woman seemed hyper-focused on one man in the crowd who stood at the edge of the rollback where the band played. The man with the long, black braid named Crow. The one who had a little girl with the same color hair sitting on his shoulders, listening to her mother sing.
Even from where Liz and Crash stood, it was plain as day the connection the couple had. Seeing that caused a twinge of envy.
Not because she wanted Crow, but because she wanted what those two had. If not now, then one day.
Who wouldn’t want a connection so strong that if one took a breath, it was shared with the other. If one stopped breathing, the other would, too.
“Damn, she’s good.” Liz hadn’t even meant to whisper that out loud, even though it needed to be said.
“The best,” Crash murmured in agreement.
“She doesn’t do it for a living?”
“No.”
“I’m assuming there’s a reason for that?”
“A few.”
He didn’t elaborate and she didn’t push. It seemed like his club was just as full of secrets as the Fury was. Maybe they shared their secrets among the Angels family but not with outsiders.
They protected their own like a solid brotherhood should.
As soon as the last note was played and the last lyric drifted away, the stunned audience stood in silence.
Then everyone snapped back to life as the man, with the long black braid halfway down his back, went to the edge of the steps and held his hand up for his wife. With a soft smile, she reached for it and he helped her down the steps and the three of them disappeared into the dark behind the makeshift stage.
Liz had no doubt they’d be getting someone to watch their young daughter for the next hour or so.
Crash wore a crooked grin as he watched the couple disappear, most likely thinking the same thought. “Happens every time she gets on stage and sings to him. He usually picks her up and carries her off, but hard to do that with a five-year-old sittin’ on his shoulders.”
“Do you think she picked that song specifically for him?”
“Yeah. After the kids, she believes singing to him is the next best gift she can give him in exchange for everything he’s done for her. Problem is, she don’t realize how much more Crow gets from her than she does from him.”
Liz wanted to sigh with how romantic that sounded. Instead, she turned in Crash’s arms and hooked her arms around his neck, pressing her body into his. “She seems a lot younger than him.”
The band started their next song and, once again, the two of them began to shuffle slowly in place.
“She is. But he was what she needed when she needed it the most. And she was what he needed and just didn’t know it.”
This time she did sigh softly, tightening her arms around his neck. “True love story, huh?”
“Yeah. She got a history that’s hard to erase.”
Liz waited to see if he’d say more. When he didn’t, she assumed he didn’t want to talk about it, so she dropped it.
“They have two kids, right? I saw them sitting together at the ceremony.”
“Yeah. Phoenix and Lyric. I’m not the only one who has a phoenix inked on them. Their mother does, too.”
“She got hers for a specific reason?”
“Yeah.”
Again, he didn’t elaborate. “And you?”
“No. Just thought it was a badass custom piece. Crow’s an ink slinger and he’s the best around. He designed it for a customer who backed out ‘cause of all the hours it woulda taken in the chair.” Keeping his grasp on her hips, he leaned back slightly to look down into her face. “He also did the colors on your prez’s back.”
“He’s probably the same artist who did the colors on most of the guys’ backs. I knew they didn’t get them done locally, but wasn’t aware it was an Angel who did them.”
“Like I said, best around. Maybe even best in PA.” He ran his prickly scruff along her cheek, murmuring, “Inspected every inch of your body and know you don’t got even one.”
“I’m not against it, of course, but I never had the desire to get any.” She would never say never on getting a tattoo, but if she decided to get one, it would need to have meaning. It made sense for the guys to get their club colors on their back since they felt as though it showed loyalty to their brotherhood. Getting the rockers inked into their skin was visible proof they were “all in.”
Last night, Crow had tattooed Trip and Stella’s names on each other’s ring fingers. Liz wasn’t sure she’d ever go so far as permanently tattooing a man’s name on her body, but there were always options to get them removed if a relationship fell apart. Just like Scar, one of the Fury’s newest prospects, was in the process of doing to remove a teardrop tattoo from near his eye. Something the prospect had to agree to before Trip accepted him as one.
Trip ran a tight ship for good reason. He saw the teardrop tattoo as a cocky “brag” about killing someone. And the Fury president didn’t want his guys advertising that kind of violence. On the surface, he wanted the Fury to appear one-hundred-percent on the up and up. But below the surface… Trip wanted what happened there to remain amongst the brotherhood.
He, like many other Fury members, had done time inside and he didn’t want any of his brothers to do time again.
“Most of our ol’ ladies get their ol’ man’s name tattooed on them.”
Crash’s words had her attention snapping back to him. “Is that a requirement?”
“No. Just somethin’ they all decided to do. Sophie, Z’s ol’ lady, was the first. The rest followed since most won’t wear ‘property of’ cuts. Was a compromise of sorts.”
“They’re wearing them this weekend.”
“Was a requirement this weekend. An easy way to identify that they’re claimed and who they belong to, but normally they only wear ‘em on the runs. And sometimes not even then.”
They stopped their “dancing,” which was more like slow lovemaking with their clothes on, when the song changed yet again. This time they couldn’t even pretend to move with the music since it was hard rock. What Liz thought might be a Dirty Deeds original.
They were certainly talented.
“Jazz is a great singer but that band is the best I’ve heard in a while.”
Crash nodded and Liz could once again see the pride in his face the same as when Jazz sung. “Yeah. They do good. They travel up and down the east coast mostly. Sometimes go west when they get offered a gig they can’t refuse. But for the most part, Nash and his bandmates don’t wanna stray too far from home or be gone too long.”
“Why? Family?”
“Yeah. Most of them are married, got kids. But their manager keeps them booked solid and they still make good scratch playin’ in smaller venues. Sometimes even bein’ an openin’ band for the big names.”
“Impressive. I’m sure Trip and Stella appreciate them playing here this weekend.”
“Like Jazz, music’s in Nash’s blood. Needs it as much as he needs air to breathe.”
“I’m assuming he has an ol’ lady since he doesn’t want to be gone too long or travel too far from home?”
Nash was really rocking out on “stage,” his long damp hair swinging with each head-banging move. His skin was slick and his old Aerosmith tour T-shirt soaked in sweat.
The man definitely gave it his all.
When Crash never responded to her question, Liz dragged her gaze from the band back to him. She poked him gently in the gut.
He dropped his eyes to hers. “No ol’ lady.”
Obviously, another answer with a story behind it. Was this another club secret? “Another story you can’t—or won’t—share?”
He pursed his lips, causing his cute chin cleft to become even deeper. He glanced over at Nash for a second and then dropped his gaze back to her. “He don’t got an ol’ lady.”
“You already said that, Crash, but the way you say it sounds like there’s a story behind it. Did she die or something?”
He sucked at his teeth for a second. “No.”
“So, nothing tragic happened?”
“Depends who you ask.”
She planted her hand flat against his gut under his open cut. “I’m asking you.”
“You said the Fury’s full of secrets. Said we hardly got any but that ain’t true.”
Liz braced herself, not knowing where this was going.
“Nash kept a secret from us ’til he had no choice but to spill it.”
Her heart began to pound as she waited.
“He’s bi.”
“Oh.” She frowned. She was expecting some huge catastrophe. Some earth-shattering secret. Did he forget she was bi, too? “So? I mean, he’s still wearing your club’s colors so it couldn’t have been any kind of deal breaker for your brotherhood.”
“Ain’t the fact he’s bi. Whether he prefers dick or pussy in his bed’s his business.” He leaned in closer and whispered, “Just like who I decide to get naked with is mine.”
“Okay, then what is it? I’m assuming whoever he’s with is a man and that caused an issue.”
“It ain’t that he likes dick, it’s what the dick’s attached to.”
“Which is?” she prodded.
“A pig.”
“And?”
“No ‘and.’ He’s a fuckin’ pig.” His tone had turned sharp.
“You’re saying you guys don’t have a problem that he loves another man, only that the man is a police officer.”
“That’s enough. Guess the ‘and’ part is that Cross won’t give up his badge and Nash won’t ask him to.”
That still didn’t sound like a problem to her. “But you let him hang with the club?”
He shook his head. “Fuck no. Our exec committee won’t let him. Not ’til he gives up his shield.”
Her brow furrowed. They were progressive enough to keep a bisexual man in a gay relationship in their midst but not a cop. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
Even though she was surprised, she shouldn’t be. Most clubs butted heads with law enforcement for obvious reasons. MCs were considered dangerous and trouble-makers even if they weren’t. Most bikers had done crimes in the past and have extensive rap sheets, and most continued to commit crimes.
Like culling the male members of a certain mountain clan.
So, reluctantly, she understood their hesitation to allow a cop amongst them. It was the same when Rook had been discovered hooking up with Jet, a local cop. The biggest problem with her would be if Jet needed to pick a side and whether she’d look the other way if she saw one of the Fury members committing a crime. Having her remain a law enforcement officer could risk her own career as well as risk the club.
Because of that, she had to make a difficult decision. Whether to pick the man she fell in love with or the career she also loved.
To her, her choice ended up being easier than anyone expected.
Maybe to Nash’s “ol’ man” the choice wasn’t so easy. “What if he never gives up his badge?”
Crash shrugged. “He will. When he retires in a few years.”
“And then he’ll be accepted within the club?”
Crash only nodded.
She hoped that was true. The thought of Nash’s life partner never being accepted made her stomach ache. “I assume he’s not here this weekend, then?”
“Fuck no.”
“That’s… unfortunate. Is that because he’s excluded from all things involving your MC?” That had to be awful to be “shunned” from your partner’s “family”—even if that family was an MC—solely due to a career choice. One he most likely had for years before the couple even met and fell in love.
“The way it is.”
An easy answer to a complex situation. “Are they married?”
“Yeah. Now they are. Got hitched a coupla years ago so they could adopt.”
Damn. That made the situation even worse. They loved each other and were committed enough to get married and create a family, but who Nash decided to live that life with was looked upon as a threat to their club. On the flip side, that also meant their love was not only strong enough to survive it, but it showed their dedication to each other. “Did they end up adopting?”
“They’ve been fosterin’ two and the adoption’s about to be finalized.”
“That’s great.”
“Sorta.”
Her eyebrows pinched at that answer.
Before she could ask it, he answered her question. “They’re an older set of twins nobody else wanted. Boy and a girl. They got issues.”
Older children with issues always had a tougher time getting adopted. So many potential adopters wanted babies and older children tended to be overlooked. Add the fact that the kids were twins and needed to stay together. Liz was sure finding the right home made that task even more difficult. “And they decided to take on that challenge in addition to the challenge of… What did you say his name was? Cross?”
“Yeah.”
“Cross and Nash’s relationship status within the DAMC?”
“Bein’ a same sex couple, they were havin’ a hard time findin’ an adoption agency that would give ‘em a fair shot. They were desperate to find a home for these kids since they bounced around foster homes ‘cause of their bad behavior. The agency pretty much figured they’d stay in foster homes ’til they hit eighteen. ‘Cause of that, the agency relented and decided they’d let a gay couple adopt them. Like they were doing Nash and Cross a fuckin’ favor. Fuckers. Think it was also due to the fact Cross is a pig and maybe they thought he could handle troubled kids better. Don’t know. But do know it shouldn’t matter if it’s two men, two women or even a fuckin’ poly pod. As long as it’s a good and lovin’ home, that’s all that should matter.”
While she agreed with that, she blinked at his mention of a poly pod. That was a term she rarely heard. Hell, she never heard any of the bikers say it. Even though Ozzy liked his threesomes, having sex with two other people and having a relationship with them were two entirely different things.
Commitment seemed to be a foreign concept to him.
“I definitely agree with you on that. Well, I’m glad they found a home with Nash and his husband. You bikers tend to be rough and gruff, but most of you have good hearts,” she tapped her finger against his under his cut, “on the inside.”
“Their son gets in scraps all the time with the rest of the boys, though. Constantly on the defensive, has a short fuse. Acts out all the fuckin’ time. It’s been causin’ some tension in the brotherhood.”
“Are they here with Nash this weekend?”
Crash shook his head. “Home with Nash’s pig hubby.”
She clicked her tongue at him. “You guys should be a little more accepting.”
Crash cocked an eyebrow. “With a pig? Fuck that shit. Hell, Nash was close to losin’ his colors ‘cause of that damn secret. He was actually considerin’ givin’ up his colors for that pig. Crazy fuckin’ shit. Bad enough he ain’t the only pig we gotta deal with.”
“There’s more?”
He sucked his teeth again. “Story for another time, Sunny.”
She wondered when that time would be since he was leaving in the morning.
She pushed that thought away and tried to concentrate on something more positive. “Amazing what one will give up for love.” She scanned the crowd and spotted Rook and Jet. Jet was leaning back against Rook with his arms wrapped around her while listening to the band and holding their Chihuahua Cujo. “See that couple over there?”
“Hard to see anything other than you since you blind me like a ray of sunshine,” he murmured in her ear.
She shot him a smile. “No need to work me like a fourteen-year-old boy.”
He chuckled. “But I wanna get down your pants tonight. Zeke would cream his jeans if he fingered a girl and found her as soaked as you get.”
“No!” Liz shuddered and whacked his arm. “I don’t want to think about that!”
Crash’s whole body shook against her with laughter.
She tried again. “Do you see that couple?”
“Yeah, Sunny, see them. What about ‘em?”
“That’s Rook. He’s done a lot of time and has a long rap sheet, including several agg assault charges on cops. See his ol’ lady?”
“Yeah, she’s hot as fuck.”
“That’s not why I’m pointin’ her out.”
“Know it, but hard to ignore. He’s a lucky fucker.”
“Yes, well… Guess what she did for a living?”
Crash went solid against her. “She’s a pig?”
“She was. She comes from a whole family of them. The bluest blood you’ll find. At least three generations that I know of.”
“They meet when she arrested him?”
“I’m not sure how they first hooked up, but he already knew her from the garage. Out of anyone on this property, no one hates cops more than Rook did. Well, maybe now Scar.”
“And he fucked her.”
“Of course he did. More importantly, he fell in love with her.”
His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “His prez allows a pig to be an ol’ lady?”
“You must’ve missed the part where I said ‘was.’”
“She gave up her badge.”
“She traded it in for a badge of a different kind,” she explained. “She’s now a bounty hunter and works with Judge and Deacon. They own a bail bonds business in town.”
“Damn.”
“She did that to make things easier. For her and Rook. For the club. Even for her own family. It might not be exactly like being a cop, but at least she doesn’t have to stick so strictly to the rules now, if you know what I mean.”
“Yeah. Bein’ able to bend the rules is a fuckin’ plus. Her pig family accept him?”
“I’m not sure. I think it’s more Rook’s issue than theirs. But their relationship is new, so I figure any issues he has with her family will smooth out eventually. I know her whole family. The Brysons are good people.”
“They’re pigs.”
She sighed. “No matter what you call them, they’re still people.”
“Disagree.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Can’t help who you fall in love with.”
“You talkin’ from experience?”
“No. I haven’t fallen in love with anyone yet. Remember, the ‘in’ part is the most important part. You?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe one day.” Maybe one day she’d find the one and she’d want to settle down. She was in no rush. She had a while before her biological clock started ticking and she had to seriously think about having kids or not. Plus, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to stifle her sexual freedom. Depending on who she settled down with, that might end up changing.
“No doubt, Sunny. I’m sure you’ve broken a lotta hearts along the way.”
She smiled up at him. “I have not left a trail of broken hearts.”
He snorted. “Ain’t that a song?”
“Yes.” She bumped her shoulder gently into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her there.
“Tired of talkin’ about everybody but you.”
She smiled up at him. “Same.”
“Think it’s time to sneak outta here.”
“You don’t want to spend any time with your brothers?” she asked.
“See them too much as it is. And they don’t look like you.”
“Good thing, huh?”
“Yeah, ‘cause that would be a fuckin’ distraction.”
She laughed.
“Bet they also wouldn’t appreciate me motor-boatin’ their tits.”
“You haven’t motor-boated mine yet.”
“Need to fix that.”
“How about you motor-boat me elsewhere, instead. You’re good with your mouth.”
He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his brown eyes getting a gleam. “Yeah?”
“Like you don’t know.”
“You’ll have to tell me again when I bury my face in your pussy later.”
That very same pussy clenched in anticipation. “How much later?” she asked breathlessly.
“If we take your ride, we can probably make it in six minutes. Or…”
“Or?”
“In less than a minute, could have you spread over my sled makin’ you howl at the moon.”
Her lips twitched. “It’s not a full moon tonight.”
“Will be when I pull my jeans down to fuck you.”
“A full moon might be a little more romantic.”
He snorted. “Not sure my ass is romantic, but alrighty, then. Sled spread it is.” He grabbed her hand and tugged. “Let’s go, Sunny. Don’t have any time to waste.”
That was for sure. Their time together was running out. Quicker than she wanted it to.
