Page 18 of Crow
I could still feel Ripper’s eyes on me like a physical touch. Each second built the tension higher until I snapped, shoving away from the bar and knocking the stool over in the process.
“Just fuck off, would you?” I growled. “I’m not about to sit around in my pajamas with you while we braid each other’s hair and talk about our fucking feelings. Leave me alone!”
I turned and stalked out of the Tavern, no longer in the mood for socializing. Besides, Jade had just proven that if you let someone in, they were only going to hurt you. Fool me once and all that crap.
Still, her absence hurt, even if I didn’t want it to. I had thrown myself into my recon mission to try and distract myself, going out every night to explore the Freeways’ territory until I found their clubhouse. The fuckers couldn’t have a larger, more public base of operations like Ironhead Tavern because of all the shit they got into—put down roots too deep in one place and the police would be able to pin them down. From what I had seen of the bikes roaming around that part of Mascid, the Freeways were constantly moving, acting in smaller groups that after a while I had realized was orbiting a single block. The Freeways’ territory was the shitty side of town, but this block was the shitty side of the shitty side, so I had started taking my gun with me, just in case. I couldn’t afford getting in a scrap with some lowlife and getting the police involved. Or worse, Tank.
I had scoured the block where I thought the Freeways were organizing their operations, and a few nights ago I had found the house I was almost certain was the base. It had almost been an accident. I was just about to turn around and go home for the night when a trio of bikes drove past me and pulled into the driveway of a shabby-looking house on the other side of the road. This was the first time I had seen the Freeways park anywhere, so I waited and watched as they approached the front door, which was opened by another man in leather cuts. I couldn’t be sure from that distance, but the man looked a lot like Ray, the Freeway’s cocksucking president, which was enough to have me coming back to that house again and again over the next few nights. I quickly realized that there were never less than three motorcycles parked outside it, and there seemed to be an almost constant turnaround of hookers and Freeways coming in and out. It was either the clubhouse or a whorehouse, or maybe even a crack house. Whichever it was, it was almost guaranteed that a raid would let us wipe a fuck ton of Freeways out of Mascid.
More certain now, I’d come back to watch the house in the daytime too, in between helping Archer gather up some hideous frilly wedding supplies that Rose had apparently insisted on and doing a gun run for Tank. Yesterday, I was going to get closer, maybe stand on the sidewalk next to the brown front lawn and see if I could catch a glance of what was going on inside, when Jade had appeared. I didn’t wait around to see if she was going into that specific house or just one nearby. I just booked it, almost running the entire way home and hoping she hadn’t seen me. I’d been sitting on the couch ever since, smoking cigarette after cigarette while staring at my cell phone as though it had deeply offended me as it lay on the coffee table. I didn’t know if I wanted Jade to text to say she had seen me or not. I tried to ignore the way my chest had tightened at just a glimpse of her face from far away by reminding myself that she was no good.
I still couldn’t quite believe it. The first time I’d considered getting close to a woman since Jeannie, and it turns out she had some boyfriend feeding her drugs. What was I then, a distraction? A plaything for when she was bored? She probably went home to laugh with him about how fucking stupid I was. And worse, the plastic baggie I had found in the bathroom trash can looked identical to the ones the Freeways had been using, back when Wrench was still too much of a pussy to claim Samantha as his and Hollywood had gotten shot. That meant that not only was Jade a goddamn junkie, but she had regular interactions with the fucking Freeway Kings. The goddamn enemy. I hated how betrayed I felt, but more than that, I hated that I worried about her. We already knew that the Freeways cut their shit with some dangerous crap, what if she ended up getting hurt? Why did I fucking care? If having Jade shatter the fragile trust I had just been beginning to build proved one thing, it was that I had been right all along: at the end of the day, I could only rely on myself.
I knocked the phone off the table in irritation and went to get some beer. I was going to head upstairs, but I paused when I saw it lying on the floor. Mentally cursing myself, I scooped it off the ratty carpet and shoved it into the pocket of my jeans. I told myself that it was so I wouldn’t miss an unscheduled church meeting and very carefully didn’t think about the texts Jade sent every so often. It’s not like they mattered. I wasn’t going to fucking answer them. I didn’t understand why she kept texting me: surely the joke was done now and she could leave me to be miserable in peace. Every chime of my phone felt like salt in the wound.
The T-shirt she had been wearing was still hung over the bannister where she left it. I had tried taking it upstairs that night, but it had smelled like apples, like her, and I had dropped it like it burned me. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with it: if I wanted to wash her off it, keep it to smell when I missed her like I was some sort of fucking pervert or something, or just throw the shirt out and be done with it. Every time I even looked at it I thought about her, the way the sleeves had drooped past her elbows, reminding me of how much bigger than her I was and how much I had enjoyed that feeling. It was hard to stop myself from imagining her in only my shirt, nothing else, with her nipples poking through the fabric and the hem just barely covering the swell of her ass. It was too confusing to deal with, so I just left it where it was until I could make a decision and headed up the stairs.
I needed a shower. I wanted another drink but I had been thinking about buying more whiskey, and I knew what a slippery slope that was. I just didn’t know what to do with myself. I hoped the hot water would clear my head a bit, give me something to focus on.
Steam filled the small bathroom, clouding over the small mirror above the sink and making everything seem less real. I stripped down, stepping under the shower’s spray and feeling the scalding water forcibly relax the muscles in my shoulders.
The sink was directly across from the shower. I couldn’t help looking at it as I washed myself, and it made me imagine Jade, bending over to take that poison into her body. Then I imagined her bending over for different reasons, shorts riding up her round ass, like an invitation for me to spank it. I could see it now, me coming up behind her, taking her from behind as she braced herself on the sink and watched our reflections in the mirror.
Fuck! Frustration overcame me and I turned my back on the sink, shaking my head to clear it and resisting the urge to punch the wall. It was one thing to still be having dreams, but to be daydreaming as well? I knew better. I knew that getting attached to someone would only hurt and I’d done it anyway and now look at me. Fucking hard in my shower for a junkie who’d been playing with me. It was pathetic.
I tried to think of something else. I listed off some of the most unappealing scenarios I could, like roadkill, flat tires, and even Ripper’s naked ass, but still I was hard and heavy between my legs. Fuck it. As the last of the soap suds circled the drain, I took hold of my cock and began to lightly stroke, because if I just took care of it, then it would go the fuck away.
I closed my eyes and pictured dark hair and pale skin, soft curves beneath my hands. I began stroking faster, breath coming heavier. Soft gasps and moans filled my head, the hitches in breath when it felt too good, and the thought of it caused heat to pool in my belly, my balls tightening. I braced my free hand on the wall for support, panting as I tugged my cock faster, harder, chasing the release. I pictured fucking deeper into a welcoming body, almost feeling the gentle drag of skin against mine, but it wasn’t the thought of soft curves beneath my hands or a wet pussy clenching tight around me that did me in. It was the flash of green eyes, mischief sparking in their depths. Jade’s eyes. I grunted quietly as I came, spurting over my knuckles. My legs trembled, breath coming heavy. The shower washed away the evidence, and I was left wondering if I was a terrible person for breaking my vow to never feel how I felt about Jeannie about anyone else.
But the deal was until death do us part,a treacherous voice in the back of my head whispered.And Jeannie’s been dead for years now, so what’s the harm?
I slammed my fist against the tile wall of the bathroom, teeth gritted. My chest felt hollow, the casual reminder that Jeannie was completely gone rattling through me. Despite how much time had passed, it was still like ripping a Band-Aid off a barely healed wound, leaving me just as hurt and exhausted as when I walked away from her for the last time after the funeral. Awkward glances and tiptoe conversations flashed through my mind, reminding me why I had come to Mascid all those years back.
My trip down memory lane was interrupted by my phone, still in the pocket of my discarded jeans, beginning to play the ringtone that was specifically Ink’s. It was like I had jinxed it, thinking about unscheduled meetings earlier. I almost tripped in my haste to get out of the shower, lunging for my jeans to answer the call before it timed out.
“The fuck do you want?” I said instead of hello, trying not to seem like I had rushed to get to the phone.
“Charming as ever, Crow,” Ink replied in a dry voice, and I could almost hear him rolling his eyes. As he talked, I walked from the bathroom to my bedroom, towel held around my hips with my free hand. “You need to come to the Tavern.”
“What for?” I was already pulling on a fresh pair of boxers.
“An emergency church meeting.” There was a pause, like Ink was debating whether or not to tell me the next bit. He sighed, and said in a quieter voice, “There’s been another note. This one was at Rose’s bakery.”
I froze in the middle of pulling my shirt on, icy fear running down my spine. Rose was so sweet and too gentle for her own good. Archer had been trying to teach her how to defend herself, but if the Freeways decided to come for her… she’d have no chance.
“Fuck.”
***
When I got to the Ironhead Tavern, most of the club was already there. Archer was furious, waving his hands about as he talked to Tank and Wrench.
“It’s like they’re laughing at us!” he said as I approached. “Letting us know they can get to us at any point, strike us where we’re vulnerable. Rose is fucking terrified. She’s refusing to leave the house. She’s even suggested calling off the wedding!”
“That’s not going to happen,” Tank said placatingly.
“Yeah, man, Rose adores you. She’s just a bit freaked out, but she’ll calm down,” Wrench agreed, but even he looked stressed. Archer ran his hand through his hair, looking more haggard than I had ever seen him, including when he had gotten shot. I placed my hand on his shoulder, trying to show him without speaking that I was there for him. I thought it worked, because he shot me a grateful look.
“Both of you, go sit down. We need to talk about what we’re going to do about this. It’s going to be okay,” Tank said, pushing us toward the booths where the rest of the Rebels were waiting with worried expressions. Archer and I slid onto the vinyl seats as Tank stood at the head of the table. The lines around his mouth and eyes were deeper than I remembered.
