CRASH: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series) (10 page)

He
looked at his bottle and then at her. Finally, he smiled. “Yeah.”

She
disappeared and returned a minute later with another beer and her purse.
Handing him the beer, she sat down and began digging through her bag. Crash
gave her a questioning look, but didn’t ask. A moment later, she found what she
was searching for and pulled out a small bottle of pills. Unscrewing the cap,
she shook one out and held it out to him. “Here. It’ll help with the pain.”

He
looked from the pill laying in her hand to her. “It’s not rat poison is it?” he
asked with a grin.

Her
shoulders dropped. “There wasn’t anything in the coffee. I don’t know where you
got the idea I’d put rat poison in it. Honestly!” She shoved her hand at him.
“Here. Are you going to take it or not?”

“Well,
when you put it like that…” he mimicked her words from earlier. Then he picked
it up, popped it in his mouth and chased it with a slug of beer.

“You
really probably shouldn’t be drinking with pain pills. I shouldn’t have brought
you that beer.”

“Oh,
so that’s your angle. Put me into liver failure, huh?” he teased.

She
rolled her eyes and dropped her bag next to her chair. Taking a sip of her
beer, she studied the view and then announced, “I need to go shopping.”

Crash
looked at her, frowning. “Shopping? For what?”

“Clothes.”

“Babe,
you’ve only been here a day. You brought a bag. Oh, wait. I suppose it was
mostly crammed full of beauty products.”

“I’m
almost out of outfits.”

“So
wash them. The machine’s under the stairs.”

She
bit her lip.

“What?
Don’t tell me. You don’t know how?”

She
looked away.

He
set his beer down, and the next thing she knew, he was pulling her to her feet.
“Crash, what are you doing?”

“Come
on.” He pulled her inside, down the stairs and over to the machine. Kicking the
wet towels out of the way, he flipped the washing machine lid up. “Read.”

She
glanced at the inside of the lid, noting the instructions imprinted there. “Fuck
you!” she hissed and tried to twist her arm free, but he had a firm grip on her
wrist.

“Aw,
babe. Pickin’ up some foul language, are you? I don’t want to hear that talk
come out of your mouth again, understand me? Or I’ll wash it out with soap.”

She
sucked in her breath. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Wouldn’t
I? Try me.”

“Why
do you care if I swear? You and the guys do it all the time.”

“That’s
them. That’s not you.”

“So?”

“Don’t
start picking up that shit, Shannon. You’re a lady. I like that. I don’t want
to hear you start cussing like a truck driver.” He tilted her head up by the
chin. His gaze fell to her lips. “That mouth’s too pretty to have those words
come out of it, got me?”

She
stared, mesmerized by his face so close to hers.

“Nod
your head, Princess.”

She
nodded her head.

Then
he released her and walked away, leaving her standing in a pile of wet towels.

CHAPTER SIX

Crash
rolled over, bolting upright. Startled from sleep by the sounds of Shannon
screaming out, he surged to his feet, looking toward the bedroom. The loft was
dark, he could see the shadow of the chains as the metal glinted with what
little moonlight came in through the skylights, but he couldn’t see the bed or
Shannon. His first crazy thoughts were that her ex had found her somehow and
was struggling with her.

He
dashed across the room and to the bed. He could see the outline of her body in
the shadowy light, but he didn’t see anybody else. Moving to the bedside table,
he flipped on the light. She was thrashing in the throes of a nightmare.
Sitting down on the bed, he tried to gently wake her. “Shannon,” he called her
name softly. “Shannon, honey, wake up.”

She
came awake swinging, her left fist popping Crash backhanded across the jaw. He
quickly subdued her, grabbing both her forearms and pinning them across her
chest. “Shannon, calm down!” She instantly stopped struggling and lay there
staring up at him, her chest heaving with her rapid breathing. He could see she
was confused. “You were having a nightmare, Princess.”

He
released her arms, and she immediately scooted backwards, sitting against the
headboard. Her eyes darted around the room, squinting against the light. She
rubbed the heel of one hand over her eye and forehead. “Umm. I was dreaming he
locked me in the trunk of a car. God, it seemed so real.”

“It
was just a dream, honey.”

She
nodded. “Yeah.”

He
grinned, rubbing his jaw. “You got a wicked left hook, though.”

Her
eyes got wide. “Did I hit you? Oh, God. I’m sorry.”

He
stood up to leave. “Go back to sleep.”

Her
hand came up and grabbed his forearm. “Wait. Don’t go. Please.”

He
frowned down at her, feeling the soft touch of her hand on his arm.

“Just…sit
with me. Please? Just for a little while.”

He
stared into her eyes, and then he let his gaze move down over her. She was
wearing a pearl-grey satin camisole with lace trim and matching short bottoms.
“All right,” the word came out of his mouth involuntarily. “Scoot over.” And
even as he moved to lean against the headboard next to her, he wondered why he
was putting himself through this torture. Lifting his arm, he wrapped it around
her shoulders, tucking her against his bare chest, his hand rubbing up and down
her upper arm.

After
a moment, she relaxed into him, her head resting on his chest. “I know it’s
silly, but I just don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re
not. I’m here, Princess.” He found his hand suddenly stroking the silky
softness of her hair.

“Talk
to me,” she whispered.

“What
do you want to talk about?”

“Anything.
It doesn’t matter. I just like the sound of your voice.”

“Really?”
He frowned, tilting his head down to look at her. Her head lifted off his chest
to meet his eyes.

 
“I know it sounds silly, but your voice calms
me.”

“Does
it, now?” He grinned down at her. “And here I thought every word out of my
mouth pissed you off.”

She
smiled and lay her head back down on his chest. “Tell me a story.”

His
chest shook with his laughter. “A bedtime story? Aren’t you a little old for
that?” She slid her arm around his bare abs, and his hand came up to caress her
forearm as it lay on him.

“Please.”

He
huffed out a breath, smiling and gave in. “Once upon a time, there was a
beautiful
princess who drove a silver
Mercedes…”

She
let out a soft tinkle of laughter.

His
fingers trailed up and down her arm, stroking. “She had long blonde hair like
that of an angel, big blue gorgeous eyes, great fucking legs that went on
forever, tits that could make a man sit up and beg, and an ass just made for-”

“Crash!”
She slugged his gut.

“Umph…”
his body curled forward with her punch. “Damn, baby. Give a guy some warning
next time.” He rubbed his hand over his abs. “Anyway, this beautiful princess
was very upset because she didn’t know how to use a coffeemaker or a washing
machine.”

“How
tragic,” she commented sarcastically.

“Oh,
it was.” Shannon pinched his stomach, and he jerked. “Oww, babe!”

“I
want a nice story.”

“It
is a nice story, if you’d let me
tell it
.”

She
settled back down. “Go on.”

“One
day a handsome prince rode in…”

“Handsome,
huh?”

“Very
handsome. He was renowned far and wide for the huge size of his-” She pinched
his nipple this time. “Damn, girl! What the hell?” He rubbed his palm over his
chest. “I’ll remember that, Princess.”

“The
story?”

“One
day the handsome prince rode in on a…”

“White
steed?”

“Harley
Davidson Dyna Super Glide Custom.”

She
giggled. “Really? And is there a seat for the princess on this magnificent
machine or does the prince make her ride the fender?”

“Who’s
tellin’ this story, me or you?”

“Continue.”

“So
the prince rode up on his awesome ride and taught the princess all about
coffeemakers, and washing machines, and blowjobs-” This time Crash was quick
enough to block her knee before it came up and connected. He laughed. “Okay.
Story time’s over.”

“Stay
with me, just until I fall asleep. Please.” She lifted up to look at him.

He
hesitated, but the fragile look in her eyes pulled at him. Pulling her head
gently back down to his chest, he reached over and switched the lamp off. His
palm stroked over Shannon’s back. “Go to sleep, Princess. It’s late.” She settled
on him, her arm tightening around his gut. Crash continued to stroke her back,
until finally she drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The
next morning Shannon awoke alone in bed. She stretched and then snuggled back
into the covers, closing her eyes. They popped back open when she heard a
rhythmic grunting sound. Rolling over she peered through the chains. Surely to
God Crash wasn’t out there having sex with some biker bimbo, was he? She saw
some movement on the far end of the loft, but couldn’t really see.

Sliding
from the bed, she slipped the matching short silk, kimono-style robe on that
she’d purchased at the mall and moved out into the main area.

Dear
Lord.

Her
heart almost stopped. There on the chin-up bar in the far corner opposite the
pool table, was Crash, doing pull-ups. And he’d been at it a while, judging
from the sheen of sweat that covered his bare chest. His muscles flexed and
bulged as he pulled himself up, and then lowered himself slowly down. She moved
closer. His back was to her, so he hadn’t realized she was there, watching. A
few minutes later he dropped to the ground, and his back still toward her, he
moved off to the punching bag. She watched as he quickly wrapped tape around
his hands. Then he began beating the bag mercilessly.

As
minutes passed, all she could do was stand there, mesmerized by the way his beautiful
body moved. His perfectly sculpted muscles flexing with the power and force of
every punch he pounded into the bag. The sheer brawn and strength as every blow
landed. The energy and drive behind every strike. Finally he stopped, grabbing
the bag with his wrapped hands to stop its swaying motion. He paused there, his
head bent to the bag, his breathing sawing in and out. After a moment, he
reached out to grab a towel and turning, began wiping the sweat off his chest,
when his eyes lifted, and he stopped short seeing her standing there by the
island.

She
watched as his eyes swept over her. Crossing her arms in front of her, she
broke the silence. “Good morning.”

“Morning.”
He continued on to the refrigerator and grabbed out a bottle of water. Closing
the door, and turning back to her, he nodded toward the coffee pot. “There’s
fresh coffee.”

Thankful
for the distraction from the awkwardness of being caught watching him, her eyes
moved to the coffeemaker. “Oh, God. Caffeine. Thank you.” She quickly moved
toward it and began pouring herself a cup.

A
grin pulled on his mouth as he raised the water bottle to his lips and
murmured, “Girl after my own heart.”

Holding
the cup with two hands, and bringing it to her lips, she looked at him over the
rim. When she pulled the cup down, he was still watching her. “Um. It’s good.”

“Yeah,
well, I figured if I wanted a decent cup of coffee, I’d have to make it
myself,” he teased. Setting down the water, he began unwrapping his hands.

Shannon
frowned, nodding toward his hands. “I thought your hand was injured. Last night
it looked swollen.”

He
finished unwrapping it, and then held it up, flexing it. “It’s better today.”

Her
eyes drifted from his large hand to his muscular forearm and up to his bulging
biceps. “I see.” She realized he’d dropped his hand and was now staring at her
with a half grin. It was obvious, he’d caught her eyes roving over him. He
picked up the edge of the towel he’d tossed over one shoulder and wiped his
face with a corner of it.

“You
hungry?”

Her
eyes couldn’t help but trail down his abs to below his belly button where the
line of hair disappeared into his low-slung sweatpants. Swallowing, she looked
away. “A little.”

He
grinned. “Talkin’ about breakfast, sweet thing, but if you’re hungry for
something else…”

“No,
breakfast would be good,” she quickly replied.

“Right.
We’ll go get something. Let me take a shower first.” He headed toward the
bathroom. Her eyes followed him, admiring the back view. Shaking herself, she
hurried toward the bedroom to get herself ready.

Rummaging
through her things, she pulled out a folded pair of black, low-waist trousers
with a slim leg and paired it with a white button-down shirt with French cuffs
in a slinky knit fabric. She’d purchased it, knowing it would pack well with
minimum wrinkles. She added a chunky silver necklace and cuff bracelet that she’d
seen on the mannequin with the outfit. She’d actually walked around the store
with the sales clerk, pointing at outfits on mannequins that she’d liked,
saying
, I’ll take that and that and that
.
It was good being a valued, regular customer. She’d even gotten the sales woman
to pack them in the rollaway bag she’d purchased.

Shannon
slipped on her only other pair of shoes, a high-heeled black pump. As she ran a
brush through her hair, she heard the shower turn off. Most of her things were
in the bathroom with Crash, so she just had to wait until he got out to put on
her makeup and finish getting ready.

The
door opened a moment later, and Crash walked out amid a billow of steam. Again,
he was just in the towel wrapped around his hips. Stepping into the bedroom,
his eyes lifted, and then dropped as they roved her body, taking in her outfit.
“Babe, don’t you have any jeans?”

“No,
why? What’s wrong with this?” He shook his head and moved past her to the
dresser. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a tee. She quickly averted her head
as the towel dropped to the floor. Well, at least it hadn’t hit her in the face
this time.

“Are
those the only shoes you got?”

She
glanced over her shoulder just as he was sliding his 501s up over his beautiful
ass. She quickly averted her eyes and replied over her shoulder, “My beige
heels, but they don’t go. Can I look now?”

“Yeah.”

She
spun around and was confronted with a bare chested Crash who was fastening up
his pants. He had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Darlin’, you coulda looked
before. I ain’t shy.”

“Apparently
not.”

His
eyebrows rose as he gestured again to her outfit. “You
do
know you’re on the back of my bike, right?”

She
lifted her arms out to her side and then let them drop. “Well this will have to
do, because I don’t have anything else. I thought I was staying in a motel or
with Cole and Angel. I didn’t know I’d be staying in the Batcave
with you
, so I guess I didn’t pack
correctly. Besides, I was in a dress the other day, and you didn’t seem to
care.”

He
pulled a shirt over his head. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

“I’m
not ready yet,” she practically whined, staring at him like he was crazy.

“What
do you mean you’re not ready? You look ready to me.” He glanced over at her as
he began shoving his money clip, keys and cell phone from the top of the
dresser into his pockets.

“I
haven’t done my hair or my makeup.”

“You
look fine.”

“Crash,
if you think for one minute that I’m going out looking like this-”

“Jesus
H. Christ,” he growled, cutting her off. “Be quick about it or I’m leaving your
ass here.”

She
mimicked him in a sing-song voice, “
I’m
leaving your ass here
. You are so effing bossy.”

His
brow shot up, and he took a step toward her. “And you are so
effing
lucky that f-bomb didn’t just
come out of your mouth.” He took another step toward her.

She
took off running to the bathroom, slamming the door.

“Yeah,
you better run,” he grumbled through the door as he headed to the kitchen.

“I
heard that,” she yelled from behind the door.

“Women!”
he muttered.

Two
hours later,
yes, two hours
, Crash
sat in a booth at a restaurant staring at Shannon. Having missed breakfast,
they were ordering lunch. At least, Crash had ordered, he wasn’t sure what the
hell Shannon was doing.

“I’d
like the Caesar Salad please, but instead of romaine lettuce, I’d like fresh
spinach. And I don’t want any egg on it. I’d like the dressing on the side and
extra parmesan cheese. It
is
freshly
grated, right?”

The
waitress stood there with her pen poised over the pad, a confused look on her
face. “Huh?”

Crash
snatched the menu out of Shannon’s hand, passed it to the waitress and said,
“Just bring her the Caesar Salad.”

Relieved,
the waitress grabbed the menu and hurried away.

“Crash!
Why did you do that? Now I’m not going to get what I want.”

“God
forbid that’d ever happen.”

“What
is wrong with you?”

“Christ,
woman, nothing with you is easy, is it?”

“What’s
that supposed to mean?”

“It
means I’d hate to be behind you in the drive-thru line.
It means
, Princess; does everything have to be difficult with you?”

“I’m
not being difficult.”

“Clue
in, Shannon. Special orders
do
upset
us. I’ve got no patience for this crap.”

“They’re
here to serve me, the customer. I should get what I want.”

“She’s
gonna bring you the salad. The way they make it. And you’re gonna eat it.
Like it is
.”

“What?
Why?” she asked confused and a little pissed off. “What’s wrong with asking for
it the way I want it?”

A
grin pulled at his mouth. “Princess, the only place that
might
work with me, is in the bedroom.”

She
sat back, stunned by his comment and looking a little uncomfortable. Crash’s
grin widened. Keeping her off-balance seemed to be a good strategy with her. He
watched her fold her arms and huff out a breath, staring out the window. His
eyes followed hers as he picked up his coffee and took a sip.

They
were in a chain restaurant attached to a mall. There was a large parking garage
outside with two levels. He’d noticed she’s been nervous as a cat when he’d
pulled the bike into the lower level. He knew some people freaked out about
parking garages, something about it falling on them or some shit. He’d never
have taken Shannon for one of them.

Their
food was delivered. Crash watched as Shannon pushed all the egg to the side and
grudgingly ate it. He hid his smile and ate his burger.

When
they were finished, he paid the check and walked her out to the bike. As they
approached it, a white panel van pulled into the spot next to where he’d
parked. Suddenly Shannon was backing up, staring at it. Crash turned to her, a
puzzled look on his face. “Babe?”

The
look on her face shocked him. She looked terrified. Thoughts of her stalker-ex
ran through his mind as his gaze returned to the van. The driver’s side door
opened on the opposite side of the vehicle. Crash clamped a hand on Shannon’s
upper arm and yanked her to his side. She was trembling all over. What the
fuck?

He
was ready to shove her behind him and pull his gun, when an elderly oriental
man rounded the back and headed toward the mall, his gate stooped and
shuffling.

Crash
looked down at Shannon. She was still shaking. “Darlin’, you okay?”

She
grabbed onto his arm, and her breath sawed in and out of her.

Crash
took her upper arms in both of his and bent his head to her, looking into her
face. “Shannon, what is it?”

She
stood there, shaking. His eyes dropped to her throat, where he could see her
pulse beating wildly. She was having a full-blown panic attack. Pulling her
into his arms, he held her tight, his hand running up and down her back. “Calm
down, sweetheart. I’m here. No one is going to hurt you.”

They
stood there for several long minutes. She was burrowed up against him like she
couldn’t get close enough. He just continued to hold her, whispering
comfortingly to her. “Baby, you’re okay. Slow your breathing.”

His
voice seemed to penetrate, and she drew in a deep shuddering breath. A moment
later, she stepped away practically shoving his arms from her. “I’m fine now.”

There
was a bite to her voice. Crash looked at her, frowning. “You’re sure?”

She
nodded and snapped, “Yes, damn it. Let’s just go.”

He
studied her, wanting to question her about what just happened, but he could see
her need to get out of there. “Okay, Princess. Come on.” He pulled her to the
bike. Handing her helmet to her, he strapped his own on. Throwing his leg over,
he lifted the bike off its kickstand and fired it up. She climbed on, clutching
him tightly. He backed the bike out and got them the hell out of there.

When
they got back to his place, Crash rolled the bike into the lower level, and she
immediately scrambled off the back. He cut the engine and got off, studying her
as he ripped his helmet off and hung it on the handlebar. She pulled hers off,
and he took it from her. “You want to tell me what that was about back there?”

“Nothing,
Crash. Just drop it, please.” She spun and headed toward the elevator.