CRASH: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series) (30 page)

“Was.
Past tense. Now I think you’re cute.”

*****

Nicklaus
Ralston leaned back in his chair staring at the man sitting across his desk.
His private investigator had dug up everything he could about Cole Austin. In
addition to the detailed report now sitting on his desk, there were also
several surveillance photos of him and his ‘gang’. Nicklaus huffed out a
breath. Evil Dead. How bloody absurd.

What
in the world was the connection between a woman like Shannon Taylor and a man
like Cole Austin? He couldn’t make sense of it. “Mr. Abbott, I see a lot of
information here regarding this, what did you call it? MC? But I’ve yet to see
where you found any reason why Shannon would have transferred such a
substantial amount of money to the Vice President of this…this…Evil Dead gang,
as you called them. Have you been able to find any connection between this
group and Shannon?”

Abbott
pulled one last photo from his file folder and slid it across the desk. “That
was taken last night at the Evil Dead clubhouse.”

Nicklaus
picked it up and studied it. It was a photograph of a motorcycle pulling out of
the Evil Dead property. There were two people on the bike. A man and a woman.
At first glance he wasn’t even sure why he was being shown this photo. He
looked up at Abbott. “And?”

“Does
she look at all familiar?” Abbott asked him.

Nicklaus’s
eyes dropped back to the photo. It had been taken at night, but as the bike
passed under a streetlamp. The woman on the back of the bike was blonde, but he
didn’t see any other resemblance to Shannon. Nicklaus looked up at Abbott with
a laugh, “Are you telling me you think this little chippy in her skimpy leather
halter top with her belly showing is my Shannon? You can’t be serious.”

“Take
a closer look.” Abbott nodded at the photo. “Didn’t you tell me Ms. Taylor
always wore the charm bracelet given to her by her father? You said the only
charm on it was her initial.”

Nicklaus
leaned forward in his chair looking carefully at the photo

“I
had that portion of the photo blown up.” Abbott slid another photo across the
desk.

Nicklaus
picked it up. It was an enlargement of the woman’s hand resting on the man’s
hip. Encircling her wrist was a silver link bracelet, and dangling from it was
a single charm. The letter S. His eyes connected with Abbott over the top of
the photograph. “Where is she?”

“I
wasn’t even sure that was her until I got back to my office and reviewed all
the photos I’d taken of every single member going in and out of the club. When
I saw that one,” he nodded to the picture in Nicklaus’s hand. “I compared it
with the photos you’d given me of Shannon Taylor. And then of course when I
spotted the bracelet...”

Nicklaus
studied the photo again. “The man on this motorcycle doesn’t look like the photos
you have of Mr. Austin. So, who is he?”

“Trying
to get a lock on the guy. Lost him last night. So many bikes pulled out at once.”

“So
you have no idea where she is?”

“I’ve
traced her to the club, now I just need to continue surveillance until she
shows up again.”

“Which
may be tomorrow or may be never.”

“I’ve
got to believe, with her dressed like that,” he nodded toward the photo. “That
she’s pretty immersed in this club.”

“Good
Lord, how did that happen? Do you think they extorted that money from her?”

Abbott
shrugged. “No clue. Sometimes it’s hard to explain a woman’s mind. The
attraction of the bad boy and all that.”

“Hmm.
I suppose you’re right.” He studied the photo, still having trouble making
sense of this in his mind. These puzzle pieces just didn’t fit together. What
in the hell was the connection? He set the photo aside. “Yes, well, keep on it.
This is your top priority. I want updates daily from now on.”

Abbott
stood. “Of course, sir.”

Nicklaus
stood and extended his hand. “Well done and all that.”

Abbott
shook it. “Thank you, sir.”

When
he was gone, Nicklaus sat back down and picked the photo up. His eyes ran over
her body in the trampy little outfit. Maybe he’d have to dress her up like that
when she came back. Of course that would be just for his private entertainment.
“Shannon, my luv, what a surprise you’re turning out to be.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“I’m
bored,” Shannon said, hopping up on the workbench in the garage down on ground
level.

“Yeah.
You said that already,” Crash replied, not bothering to look up at her. His
head under the hood of the old Ford pickup he was trying to get running.

She
let out a deep frustrated breath.

He
glanced up from what he was doing. “It’s pouring rain, Shannon. It’s not like
we can take the bike anywhere. Unless you want to be soaked when we get there.”
He walked over and picked up a beer off his tall rolling tool chest, taking a
slug. Shannon turned and looked out the open garage door at the downpour, and
he could see cabin fever was starting to set in. Grinning, he let his eyes
slide over her. “We could fool around. That’s always an entertaining pastime
for a lazy, rainy day like this.”

She
turned back to him, rolling her eyes. “Be serious.”

“Okay,
then, how about we play a little game?” he asked, setting the beer down and
returning to the engine.

“What
kind of game?”

“Truth
or Dare.” The muscles in his arms strained with the torque of the socket wrench
as he fought to loosen a spark plug that was stuck. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

“That’s
so high school.”

“You
haven’t played it with me. The dares are so much more inventive when you’re an
adult.” Finally, the plug broke loose, and the ratchet on the socket began to
turn. Clickety-clack.

“It’s
a child’s game.”

“What’s
the matter? Chicken?” He turned his head enough to look at her.

“No.”

“Then
let’s go.”

“Okay,
fine.”

“Truth
or Dare?” Crash asked, replacing the old plug with a new one.

“Truth.”

He
straightened from under the hood and grinned at her. “How many sexual partners
have you had?”

“What,
you want like a number?”

Tossing
the old plug on the ground he asked, “Can you count them on one hand?” When she
hesitated, he prompted, “Two hands?” She looked at the ceiling, and he could
almost see the wheels turning. The corners of his mouth pulled up. “Christ.
I’ll give you a minute to add ‘em up, darlin’.”

“Shut
up! Six, okay.”

“Six,
huh? Maybe seven’s gonna be your lucky number, sweetheart.”

She
huffed out a little laugh. “You’ve still got a fight to win, Romeo.”

“You
doubting my abilities, babe?”

“Which
abilities are you referring to? The ones in the cage or in bed?”

“Both,
baby.”

She
rolled her eyes.

“After
the fight, I’m gonna make you pay for every one of those eye rolls of yours.”

“My
turn. Truth or Dare?” she asked him.

“Truth,”
he replied without hesitation, leaning under the hood again.

“Why
did you agree to do this?”

“Do
what?” He began removing another plug. Clickety-clack.

“Take
me on.”

“The
truth?” He turned his head, his eyes connecting with hers.

She
nodded.

“Because
you’re hot.”

She
rolled her eyes again.

“You
didn’t let me finish, baby. Your class, your manners, your softness-”

“My
softness?”

“Yeah.”
He strained to get another stuck spark plug to break free. “From your soft
curls to your silk cami, to your pretty pink toes—head to toe softness, Princess.
You’re feminine. You’re not trying to be a hard-ass biker bitch.” He glanced
over at her. “That stuff gets old, Shannon.”

“Oh,”
her mouth formed the word, her eyes wide.

She
acted like no one had ever said anything like that to her before. He knew that
couldn’t be true. Guys had to hit on her all the time. Feeding her any lines
they’d think would do the job to get in her pants.

“My
turn. Truth or Dare?” he asked her, working on getting the next plug loosened.

“Truth.”

“Ever
been with more than one man?”

“No!”
she bit out in her best outraged voice and then quieter, “Have you?”

He
grinned. “Men? Hell no! Women? Fuck yeah.” He watched her blush and couldn’t
help asking, “Do you want to?”

“I’ve
never thought about it,” she replied, looking away, not able to meet his eyes.

“Liar!”

“Truth
or Dare?” she asked, changing the subject.

He
wanted to call her out on her bullshit answer, but he let it slide. “Since your
questions aren’t very dirty, I’ll say, dare.”

“Okay.
Show me all your tattoos.”

Grinning,
he tossed the socket wrench aside and began wiping his hands on a rag, his eyes
never leaving hers. “All of ‘em, huh? How many you think I got?”

She
shrugged. “That’s what I mean to find out.”

Crash
reached behind his head grabbing two fistfuls of fabric and yanked the tee
shirt over his head, letting it drop to the cement floor. “Well, come on over
here, and count ‘em up, babe.”

Her
eyes dropped to his muscled arms, shoulders and rock hard abs. Swallowing, she
hopped down off the bench and moved toward him. He watched as her eyes moved
over his body. Her mouth parted, and the tip of her tongue darted out to wet
her lips. “Show me,” the words barely a whisper.

He
tapped a large tattoo on his left shoulder that ran down to his elbow. It was a
pair of feathered wings with a cross in the center. Just below the cross were a
set of initials. “This one? The wings and the cross, that’s for my brother.”

“What
do the wings represent?”

“He
was in the 82
^nd
Airborne.”

“Oh.”

“Those
are his initials.” He met her eyes as she studied the intricate artwork.

“It’s
beautiful.”

“Thanks.
I had a good friend of mine lay the ink, but I came up with the design.” He
tapped another tattoo lower down on his forearm. “This one’s for the club.” He
watched her gaze run over the skull and other symbols, knowing she didn’t
really understand any of their meanings

Twisting,
he showed her the one high on his right shoulder blade, an eagle, and then he
lifted his right arm to show her the tribal scroll that ran down along his ribs
under his right arm. “That one was the worst. The ribs hurt like a bitch.”

Her
hand reached out, her finger tips brushing along his skin, tracing the ink on
his ribs. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, and then as if just realizing she’d
touched him, she stepped away.

He
reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her back. “There’s one more.” Her
eyes met his, and then dropped to his hands when she realized he was unbuckling
his belt. They flew back to his eyes. “You said all of ‘em, Princess.”

“If
you’ve got one on your-”

“Relax,
sweetheart, it’s just low on my belly.” He opened his jeans, the plackets
falling to reveal a V of skin and watched her eyes drop to it, drawn.

There,
in an arching scroll across his lower belly it read,
Show No Mercy

“You’ve
got to be kidding me.”

He
grinned. “Truth or Dare, Shannon? Come on, babe,” he taunted as he did up his
pants. “Take a dare.”

“Fine.”

Crash
got a lascivious grin on his face. “God, I was hoping you’d say that.”

“So
what’s the dare?” she asked.

“You
let me do a belly shot off you.”

Her
mouth fell open.

He
grabbed her by the hand, and they went upstairs. Walking over to the bookcase
by the pool table, he got down a bottle of Tequila. Turning back to her, he
nodded to the pool table. “Hop up, babe, and lie back.”

“What,
here?”

“Sure.”
He watched her, almost daring her to back out. Finally she hopped up on the end
and lie back. He lifted his chin toward her torso, and she swallowed and pulled
her shirt hem up to her bra, revealing her flat stomach, that sexy-as-hell
piercing and about two inches below her navel to the waistband of her low
riding shorts.

He
smiled at her. “Damn, baby, but you’re a pretty sight lying there. Gives a man
all kinds of ideas.”

“The
dare was a belly shot, nothing more.”

He
poured the golden liquor into her navel, and she jumped at the coldness. “Easy,
darlin’, or there’ll be tequila in all kinds of places you may not want my
tongue…just yet.”

She
held as still as possible under the threat, and he imagined she was picturing
the scene he’d just described. She trembled.

He
hesitated, poised over her, and he caught her eye. “You’re trembling, baby.
Imagining my tongue on you?” Before she could answer, his mouth was there,
drinking up the liquor. His soft beard brushing against her softer skin,
tickling. His tongue lapped at her, until he got up every drop. He rose up, his
face above hers. “Delicious, baby. Nectar of the Gods.”

“Can
I get up now? Are you done?”

“Not
by a long shot, but yeah, you can get up.” He took her hand and helped her up and
off the table. “Your turn, Princess.”

“Truth
or Dare?” she asked him.

“Truth,”
he replied, almost afraid what kind of dare she’d throw at him, the fire still
in her eyes.

“Do
you even like me?” she snapped immediately.

He
wasn’t ready for that question and blinked. “The truth? Yes and no. I don’t
like the stuck-up, rich-bitch attitude you walked in here with that first day.
I don’t like that you think you’re incapable of doing things—or maybe it’s that
you think you’re above doing them.”

She
turned to stomp away. “I’ve heard enough.”

He
grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, having seen the flash of hurt in her
eyes. He continued, “But there are parts I like a hell of a lot, Shannon. Your
sweet side, when you show it. Your vulnerable side, when you let me see it. God
knows you’re nosey, always getting into trouble, but you’re adorable when you
admit you don’t have a clue what you’re doing, and you try anyway. I like your
courage in getting through what you’ve been through. And I like your pretty
body, especially that soft, lick-able belly.”

She
tried to stay mad, but his words had touched her. She hadn’t a clue he’d
thought those things, any of those things.

“That
a good enough answer?”

She
nodded.

“Truth
or Dare, Shannon?”

“Truth.”

“When
you sleep in my bed, do you ever think about what it’d be like to let me fuck
you?”

Her
mouth parted, and her eyes met his.

“The
truth, Shannon.”

“Yes,
I’ve thought about it.”

“Good,
because I think about it every damn time you crawl in it.” He poured a shot.

“Truth
or Dare?”

He
leaned against the pool table. “Truth.”

“When
was your first time?”

“What,
sexually? The first time I ever fucked? Fifteen. But that wasn’t the best.” He
downed another shot.

“Tell
me.”

“A
couple of years later I started cutting grass for a new lady in the
neighborhood. She was maybe early forties, but hot as hell. I was seventeen,
already six foot and muscled. Rock-hard abs.” He grinned, patting his stomach. “We
had an affair that lasted a year. She taught me a lot. She was totally
uninhibited in her sexuality. She answered every question I had, and I had a
lot. I learned how to please her, what turned her on, what turned me on, and
how to watch the signs a woman gives.”

“Signs?”

“Signs.
I learned to tell when she wanted it slow and gentle, and when she wanted it
rough and hard. Every way there was to fuck, every position you can imagine,
she taught them to me. And not just how to fuck, but how to give pleasure.
Sometimes it wasn’t even about the sex. Sometimes it was just about touching.”

Shannon
looked away, lifting her hair off the back of her neck.

A
smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “You’re getting hot and bothered.”

Her
eyes came back to him. “Am I?”

He
nodded. “Want me to help you out with that?”

She
rolled her eyes and looked away.

“Truth
or Dare?”

Her
eyes came back to him. They stared at each other a long moment before she
swallowed and murmured, “Dare.”

“Walk
over here and kiss me.” He watched her eyes get big. “Come on, Shannon, where’s
all that courage now?”

She
took in a breath and walked over to him, her eyes skating down over his bare
chest and arms. She stopped in front of him.