CRASH: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series) (41 page)

“What?”

“You
are
not
dyeing that beautiful blonde
hair that god-awful Goth black shit.”

She
stared at him and started to protest, “What do you care what I-”

He
grabbed the basket out of her arms, peering inside. Pulling out another item,
he held it up in front of her. “Black nail polish, Shannon? Really? What the
fuck, babe, you trying to look like Elvira? Fuck no. That shit creeps me out.”
He tossed it back in the basket and pulled out the next item, his eyebrows
arching up as he glared at her and held the offending item up in front of her
face. “Scissors? Oh, hell no. You cut your fucking hair, I’ll leave your ass
out on the street right fucking here.”

“What
is your problem?” she blurted.

“What’s
my
problem?” He handed the basket to
the wide-eyed cashier, who up until that moment had remained mute, and probably
terrified watching their exchange. “Sorry, ma’am,” Crash apologized. “But the
lady, here, won’t be needing these.”

“Y-yes,
sir.” The girl fumbled to take the basket.

Crash
clamped a hand around Shannon’s wrist and practically dragged her out the door
and to his bike, where he finally let her go, ordering, “Get on.”

“What
is
with
you?” Shannon asked, glaring
at him and rubbing her wrist.

Crash
threw his leg over the seat and lifted the bike up off its kickstand. “Get the
fuck on, Shannon.” She stared at him unmoving as the engine roared to life. “You
make me get off this bike and put you on it, you’ll wish you hadn’t,” he
threatened in a soft but deadly voice.

She
got on.

They
rode down the street and turned into the parking lot of the motel. He pulled in
a spot and cut the bike off. A moment later he was pulling her through the door
of their room.

“Okay,
let’s hear it.” He glared at her.

“Hear
what?”

“Whatever
the fuck it is you’re not telling me, Shannon. Whatever shit it is that’s got
you trying to transform your appearance like you’re suddenly in witness fucking
protection hiding out from the goddamn mob.
That
fucking shit.” He stalked toward her.

She
took two steps back. Her legs hit the bed, and she plopped down on her ass
staring up at him. “There’s nothing to tell.”

He
shook his head and stalked across the room, pacing. The room didn’t allow for
him to go very far. “The hell there’s not. You told me and Cole that you were lying
low from an ex-boyfriend.”

“T-that’s
right.”

He
ran his hand over his jaw, pausing at the dresser. What the fuck kind of mess
had he gotten himself into? He turned back to her, and his hands landed on his
hips, one canted to the side. “What aren’t you telling me, Shannon?” He watched
stunned as her eyes pooled, and then the tears spilled over the edge. A moment
later, he was crouched down in front of her, his hands on her knees. “Baby,
what the fuck?” he asked softly.

Her
shoulders shook, and she wouldn’t look at him.

“Hey,
look at me.” She looked up at him with a terrified look. He continued, “I can
handle just about anything else, but not another lie. Okay? So just tell me the
truth. What the hell is really going on with you?”

Still
she stayed quiet.

“If
you’re in trouble, let me help you.”

Her
lip trembled.

He
cupped her face, looking into her eyes. “I care about you, Shannon, and if you
need help-”

“I
saw him. Well…not him. His guys.”

“Whose
guys?”

“The
guy I was seeing.”

He
rose to his feet, looking down at her. “The kid you were seeing has guys?”

“He
isn’t a kid.”

“What
are you talking about? He’s some preppy kid you met at college, right?” Shannon
was only—what had she said—twenty-three, twenty-four?

She
shook her head. “No. He’s an associate of my father’s.”

“What?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Your ‘cornered-the-market-on-real-estate’ father? Your
‘owns-half-the-fucking-state’ father? His associate?”

She
nodded. “Yes.”

“Who
is this guy?”

“He’s
Sir Nicklaus Ralston III. He’s British.”

Crash
looked at her, stunned for a moment, and then he finally growled, “Were you
ever planning to share that shit with me, Shannon?”

Her
lower lip trembled. “I’m sorry, Crash. I was afraid you wouldn’t help me.”

Crash
thought about what she’d said, and he ran a frustrated hand over his jaw. “An
associate of your father’s, huh? So, he’s loaded I take it? Money. Power.”

She
nodded. “Ever heard of Ralston Aluminum?”

“You
mean Ralston Aluminum, that shit you wrap around your baked potatoes?”

She
dashed at the tears on her cheek and tried to smile. “Yes. That stuff you wrap
around your baked potatoes, along with about a hundred other products. He’s
worth about a billion dollars.”

Crash
was taken aback. He knew her father was loaded, but this kind of money? This
was a whole nuther league. And his princess had had that at her feet and shoved
it away. With both hands, apparently. There had to be more to this story, a
whole lot more. Girls like her didn’t walk away from money like that. They were
groomed their whole lives for that shit. Catching a suitable husband. Hell,
she’d hit the fucking mother lode. And she’d shoved it away and run from it—run
straight into the grips of a goddamn MC. For safety. For protection. From what?
What was she afraid of? “Shannon, I don’t give a fuck how many guys Mr. Baked
Potato Head has. He’s not touching you. You hear me?”

Her
lips twitched as she tried to hold back a laugh. “Mr. Baked Potato Head?”

“I’m
not joking, Shannon. Sir Tin Man is gonna be a dead man if he tries to get
anywhere near you. Do you hear me? So, knock off this incognito bullshit.”

“Sir
Tin Man?” She burst out laughing.

Well,
at least he got her laughing, and the tears had stopped. He couldn’t handle
those. Crying Shannon gave him the shakes. Laughing Shannon he could handle. He
pulled her to her feet, his palms cupping her face, tilting it up to his. “Look
at me, Princess.” He stared deeply into her big eyes. “I don’t want you to
worry. I don’t want you to be afraid. All right?”

She
shook her head. “Crash, they were looking for someone—for me. I know it. He’s
figured out where I went. He knows I’m with you. When they find us, they’ll
take me back to…” She broke down into tears again. “You don’t know what he’s
capable of, Crash.”

“And
he doesn’t want to find out what
I’m
capable of,” Crash warned and pulled her against him. Wrapping his arms around
her, he cradled her head to his chest. “Shh, darlin’. I’m not letting anybody
take you.” He held her until the worst of it was over. When she quieted, he
whispered, his mouth against the top of her head, “Tell me the rest of it.”

“The
rest?” she asked, not moving.

“What
is it about this guy that’s got you so scared you’d leave your life and hide
out with an MC? What did he do to you?” If he’d hurt her, Crash was gonna break
his goddamn neck. It took her a moment before she answered him, her face still
buried against his chest, and he swore her hold around his waist tightened.
Goddamn it, she
was
scared.

“I
met him about two years ago at my father’s office. He was attractive. Refined.
Polite. He asked me to dinner. At first, I really liked him. He was charming.
Attentive. I thought he was my prince charming.” She laughed. “Silly, huh? We
women all fall for that—we all buy into that fairy tale.”

“Why
not? You deserve it, to be treated like a princess.” His hand stroked the hair
at the back of her head. “You said ‘at first’. What changed?”

“He
eventually showed his true colors.”

“And
what are his ‘true colors’?”

“He’s
controlling. Extremely controlling. About everything. Who I could see, where I
could go, what I could wear.”

“And
if you didn’t comply?”

“He’d
find ways of making me pay.”

“Physically?
He hurt you?” His hold tightened.

“Not
hit me, if that’s what you mean. He…things started happening with my father’s
business. Every time I disobeyed him, something bad would happen—he’d lose a
client or a deal would suddenly fall through.”

“You
think he was behind it?”

“I
know he was.” Crash was quiet, watching for her to give him the rest. She
continued. “Then he had his doctor put me on medication. Pills. He insisted I
take them. They made me…docile, compliant, easy to manage I guess you’d say.”

Fuck.
He was turning her into his own goddamn
Stepford
Wife
.

“I
started to pretend to take them and spit them out. He figured out the game I
was playing, of course, because I wasn’t acting the way the drug was supposed
to make me act. That’s when I think he started lacing my food with it.”

“Christ,
Shannon.” He tightened his hold on her. “Your father, he wouldn’t protect you
from this guy?”

“Nicklaus
is powerful. He’s got some kind of hold over my father. I’m not sure what.” She
shrugged.

“Tell
me the rest. How you ended up here.”

“He
had his men, his bodyguards, on me twenty-four-seven. But I slipped them a few
times. I went to my girlfriends for help. He’d always find me, though.
Immediately. It was like he had some kind of tracking device on me.”

“Probably
your car. Cell phone, too.”

“Every
time one of my girlfriends helped me—after he took me back—I’d hear that bad
things had started happening to them.”

“Like
what?”

“One
of them had her car vandalized. Another’s dog was poisoned. It wasn’t long
before they didn’t want to have anything to do with me. They had their own
families to worry about. I can’t blame them. I feel horrible for the price they
paid for trying to help me.”

“Did
you ever go to the police?”

“By
that time, Nicklaus came right out and told me—threatened me—that if I went to
the police, my family would pay. I was afraid.”

“That’s
when you contacted Cole?” He felt her shake her head.

“No.
It was when I overheard Nicklaus talking about taking me back to England with
him, making sure my passport was in his control so I couldn’t leave. He was
talking to my father about a merger, saying that I was part of the deal. No
Shannon—no deal.”

“So,
what the fuck, Shannon? You’re telling me your father was
trading
you to this guy?” He felt her tremble and knew his words
had been cruel, whether true or not. He rubbed her back. “I’m sorry,
sweetheart. You deserve better.”

“My
father loves me,” Shannon defended. “I know he does.”

The
man didn’t know the meaning of the goddamn word, but he didn’t have the heart
to crush her with
that
truth. “I’m
sure he does, Shannon.”

She
pulled back and looked up into his face, a pleading expression in her eyes. “We
have to leave Lake Tahoe. Please, Crash. Take me away, before they spot me.

He
swallowed, looking down into her eyes, seeing the terror there. Fuck, he was
going to tear this guy apart, piece by piece, for putting that look on her
face. His cell phone rang. He brushed the hair back from her eyes, and then
pulled it out and looked at the display. Cole. “Give me a second, sweetheart.”

She
nodded and stepped back.

He
put it to his ear. “Yeah?” He walked out of the room, surveying the parking lot
while he listened.

“Crash?
Where you at?”

“Tahoe.”

“We
got trouble up in Reno.”

“At
the house?”

“Yeah.
I’m headed up there now. Can you meet us?”

“I’ve
got Shannon.”

“Leave
her there. Pick her up on the way back.”

“I
can’t.”

“Why
the fuck not?”

“There’s
shit she didn’t tell you. This guy she’s running from? He’s not some kid, he’s an
associate of her father. He’s powerful, and he’s got guys looking for her, Cole.
They tracked us here. She spotted them.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”
Crash heard Cole blow out a breath.

“All
right, stash her in a motel in Reno, and then meet us out at The Pony. We should
be there by ten.”

“Shit.
Yeah, okay. It may be closer to eleven when I get there.” Crash’s eyes scanned
the parking lot.

“We
finish up there,
you’ll have plenty of time left over to play with your girl. For now,
just get your ass to Reno.”

“Right.”
Crash slide his phone back in his pocket and went back inside. Shannon was
sitting on the bed, chewing her bottom lip. “Get your shit, babe. We’re
leaving.”

She
jumped up, only too happy to comply. “Back to the clubhouse? If he figured out
I went to Cole for help-”