Page 4 of Crow

It’s entirelythrilling.

Flames lick over my skin, and as if he can feel me staring at him, his dark eyes lift and sweep across the bar, trying to locate whoever tipped off his senses. They sweep the area quickly. His body tenses, his muscles leaping as his arms tighten in that rigid pose.

I could look away. I could turn. I could still escape.

I don’t.

Chapter 2

Crow

Friday and Saturday nights, Patterson’s is extra rowdy. There are a few regulars, civilians, people out for an evening, who don’t mind mingling with leather clad outlaws and who have some connection to the club, but they’re the minority here.

Up until thirty seconds ago, I wished fervently that I hadn’t come, but acquiescing, even in small doses, is often the only thing that will makehimshut the fuck up. Raven likes being social. He’s the opposite of me in every way. Ironic, given that we exist in the same body.

I’m the dominant, but it’s exhausting listening to his voice in my head, picking me apart, whining, antagonizing, complaining that he never gets to have any fun. Hence, why I’m here.

I wanted to turn right back around at the press of all these bodies, the loud rock music, the pinball machines getting mashed on in the corners, darts flying, pool balls knocking together, the roar of voices and the higher pitched laughter. The endless flirting and drinks and the lead up to inevitable sex and hangovers. It’s all so useless and so fucking loud.

Pussy. If you hate it so much, then let me out. What’s the problem? It’s not like five minutes is going to kill you. Then again, I just might. Kidding. Ha. I like torturing you, but I’m not suicidal. You die, I die. Unfortunately, we’re a package deal.

Cutting through the noise, the chaos, the overwhelming inundation of scents and humanity, is a set of verdant eyes, a shock of vibrant red hair. She’s tall and rail thin, but she easily balances a loaded tray of drinks that looks like it’s twice her weight. It presses her black ribbed tank tightly across her breasts, slicking the Patterson’s logo down over the small swell. Unlike every other waitress I’ve seen work this place over the past few years, her denim skirt is past knee length. Almost chaste. She’s sporting fire engine red cowboy boots. With her demure makeup and that outfit, she looks more suited to a barn dance than a biker bar.

The outfit is her usual. Which makes her unusual.

Tarynn hasn’t worked here long. Just over a month.

I haven’t been watching her. Not like that, anyway.

Creeping her in our room doesn’t count?

I havenotbeen creeping her. I might have spent a few hours looking her up. She doesn’t have any socials. I found scant information, mostly on Bill Nightengale, her father. Hart is a small city and Nightengale is an unusual last name. It didn’t take much to link them.

The church’s website is almost obscenely open. There she was, smiling prettily in photos—she’s been at every church function, helping out alongside her parents. Not just holidays, but soup kitchens, fundraisers, camps for kids in the summer, and mission trips to Seattle and down in Latin America.

After the first shift, I was intrigued. She seemed too bright, too natural, too sweet and angelic to be working here. I wanted to know what the fuck she was doing in a place like this.

I didn’t ask Wizard, with his incredible hacking skills, to find out for me. I didn’t go and beg Gunner for tips on stalking a person, as he did with his old lady for years before he finally pulled his head out of his ass and got brave enough to talk to her.

I didn’t ask any of my club brothers for a favor.

I told myself to stay away.

A woman like her would never, should never, get involved with someone like me.

Or me! We’re a fucked up team whether you like it or not. That’s right. Team. Let me shout it out for you since you so often forget. Or spell it. Want me to spell it? T to the E to the A to the M. Put it all together and what do you have?

“Fuck off,” I mutter under my breath.

Rude.

I haven’t blinked. At any second, I expected that Tarynn would look away. The spell would be broken, and she’d continue serving drinks. I’d stay for another few minutes, then get the fuck out of here, back to the freedom of my bike, and the wide open, silent night.

She saw me mouth those words. She’s no good at reading lips. She takes a step forward, forcing a shaky smile, and walks in my direction. Did she think I called her? Fuck off could pass for come here.

Shit.

Oooh, you’re going to have to talk to her. I can’t wait to see how you mess this up. Hold on! Dodge away or something so she has to catch up. I need time to make popcorn for the show.

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