CRASH: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series) (5 page)

He
shrugged. “I have a thing for blondes. Shoot me.”

Her
eyes returned to the portrait. It was a lovely shot. She looked soft, natural,
innocent...

“She
looks fragile, doesn’t she?” he observed.

She
turned to look at him, a strange warm feeling running through her. It had been
exactly what she’d been thinking. Strange that he’d pick up on that. That
that’s what he’d taken from the image. Most men would just see the sexy woman.
She looked back at the photograph. His comment had hit a little too close to
home. It was exactly how she felt inside.

She
took a sip of her beer and moved on. There was some low, black shelving with a
lot of knickknacks on them. She noticed some military stuff. A helmet, a set of
dog tags, a framed picture of two guys with their arms around each other. Picking
it up, she studied it. One was obviously Crash, the other looked a lot like
him. Her eyes moved up to the brick wall and the huge American flag stretched
across it.

She
felt Crash move behind her, looking over her shoulder at the photo. “My
brother. He was killed in Afghanistan last fall.”

Her
eyes dropped back to the photo, and then she turned to look over her shoulder
at him. “I’m so sorry.”

He
lifted his chin to the huge, casket-sized flag. “Every time I looked at that
tight little folded-up triangle it pissed me off. So, one day I took it out and
hung it up. Now it doesn’t piss me off so much. Now I get it.”

“Get
what?”

“Why
he went. Why he served. How can you look at that flag and not understand?”

She
turned and stared up at it. She had to admit it was a grand flag, and it made
her feel a sense of pride in her country. Setting the photo back down, she
turned and spotted something. “You have a jukebox!” she exclaimed excitedly.
She looked back at him, a huge smile on her face.

He
shook his head, chuckling. “Seriously, babe? You with access to a fortune,
could have any toy you wanted, yet here you are, thrilled over a used jukebox I
scavenged.”

She
shrugged. “I’ve just always loved them.”

He
nodded towards it. “Play something. It’s loaded with CDs.”

She
moved toward it and began pressing buttons, flipping through the selections.
She felt him move away and turned to see him shrugging out of his leather cut
and tossing it over the back of one of the barstools as he moved toward the
kitchen. Turning back to the jukebox, she made a selection. The sounds of The
Heavy’s “What Makes a Good Man” filled the space, and she glanced back over her
shoulder to see Crash’s reaction to her choice. He was standing at the
refrigerator, the door open. He glanced up, and their eyes met over the top of
the door, his, crinkled at the corner with a grin.

“That
was my brother’s favorite song.” Returning his attention to the fridge, he
asked, “You hungry?”

“A
little,” she replied, making a few more song selections and then moving toward
the kitchen area. She sat on a barstool and watched as he took a frozen pizza
out of the freezer. He opened it, slapped in on a pan and slid it in the oven.

Turning
back to her, he rested his hands on the island, leaning into it. “You cook?” he
asked.

“Do
I
cook
?”

“Yeah.”

“Um,
no. Not really.”

“What’s
‘not really’?”

“I
know how to microwave stuff. Reheat take-out.”

“So,
you’re telling me what you make for dinner is reservations, huh?” he teased.

She
smiled. “Something like that.”

He
huffed out a laugh. “Exactly like that.”

“Yes,”
she admitted.

“Well,
I’m a shit cook. Frozen pizza is the extent of my culinary expertize. So you’re
gonna learn.”

“Yeah,
right.”

“I’m
serious. Tomorrow’s dinner is on you.”

“Can’t
I just order out something?”

“No,
you can’t. I’m sick of take out. You’re gonna be here with nothing to do all
day. Might as well cook something.”

“Are
you serious?”

“Come
on, all you gotta do is read a recipe, how hard can it be?”

She
glanced around the room. “You got a copy of
Cooking
for Dummies
stashed around here somewhere?”

He
grinned. “Nope, but there’s this wonderful invention called the internet.”

She
grinned back at his sarcasm. “LOL.”

He
let out a laugh.

She
drained the rest of her beer and set it on the island. He moved to the
refrigerator, snagged another bottle, twisted the top off and set it in front
of her, exchanging it for her empty.

“Thank
you,” she whispered, remembering his comment back at the bar when she’d
neglected to show manners.

“You’re
welcome, Princess,” he replied, a small smile pulling at the corner of his
mouth. A few minutes later, he turned and pulled the pizza out of the oven and
ran a pizza cutter across it several times. Then he slid the pan on the granite
between them. “Dig in.”

He
grabbed a slice and leaned back against the counter, eating it. Shannon picked
up a slice and bit into it. It actually wasn’t that bad. They ate in silence.
When they were finished, she watched as he got out a small plastic pail and
held it under the icemaker, filling it about half way. Then he put it under the
faucet and filled it with some water until the ice was floating. She frowned,
wondering what on earth he was doing.

He
reached into the fridge, hooked two beer bottles in the fingers of each hand
and kicked the door shut with his foot. Then he jammed them into the ice-filled
pail. Turning to her, he motioned with his head and said, “Grab your beer. Come
on.”

She
followed him up the metal stairs and out the door onto the side roof. The sun
had gone down, but the sky still held the last traces of hazy blue light. Like
he’d told her, she could see the lights of the cars crossing the Bay Bridge,
looking like little sparkling crystals moving in a line. “Wow. It’s beautiful
up here.”

“Um-hmm.”
He motioned toward two low-slung Adirondack-style chairs that faced the view. “Have
a seat.”

They
both sat down, and he set the beer-filled pail between them. She grinned over at
him, glancing down at the pail. “What more could a person want? A great view
and ice-cold beer at the ready.”

He
grinned back. “You got it, babe.”

She
took a sip of beer and enjoyed the view. Crash reached his hand down under his
chair, and she looked over to see him pulling out a half empty pack of smokes
and a lighter.

“Mind
if I smoke?” he asked, shaking one out.

“Go
right ahead. It’s your house.” She watched him light up. “I didn’t realize you
smoked.”

He
twisted his wrist, looking down at the cigarette in his hand. “I allow myself
one at the end of the day. Usually up here.” He gestured to the view.

She
nodded.

He
took a hit and tilted his head back, slowly blowing the smoke out. Without
turning towards her, he asked, “You want to talk about this guy?”

“This
guy?” She frowned.

“The
one you’re runnin’ from,” he clarified.

She
immediately turned her head away, her stomach dropping. Trying to cover her
internal reaction, she made an effort at appearing unaffected by taking a sip of
her beer. “No,” she replied and felt his head swivel towards her, his eyes
studying her.

“You
sure?” he prompted softly. “You seemed pretty scared back there today.”

She
looked down, picking at the label on her bottle with her manicured nail. “I’m
sure.” She felt him watching her. Finally, he turned away and took another hit
off his smoke.

“All
right, Princess.”

“How
long have you lived here?” she asked, wanting to change the subject. Glancing
over at him, she caught his grin and realized he knew what she was doing.

“Bought
it a couple of years ago. Put in the kitchen and bath. Took about a year to
make the place livable.”

“You
did all the work yourself?” she asked, impressed.

“Yeah.”

“It’s
very nice.”

His
eyes came to her, his eyebrows raised. “Fuckin’ pleased you like it. I’ll sleep
better tonight.”

She
rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Just trying to be nice. I thought we had a
truce.”

He
grinned and took a sip of beer.

“So,
what’s your real name, Crash?” she asked.

He
took another drag off his smoke, studying the horizon. “You stick around long
enough, maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Hmm,
cryptic.” She grinned, looked back at the view and took a sip of beer. Out of
the corner of her eye, she watched his eyes crinkle up with a smile.

Shannon
kicked her heels off and rested her feet on a wooden crate that Crash had
obviously been using in the past as a footrest. She crossed her legs at the
ankles. Taking a sip of beer, she glanced over and caught his eyes trailing
down the length of her tanned legs. Well, well. Maybe he wasn’t as totally
immune to her as he pretended to be. With a tiny smile, she rested her head
back and looked up at the stars twinkling in the darkening sky. It really was lovely
up here.

Crash
took a deep drag off his cigarette, his eyes back on the horizon.

Shannon
waited until his chest was expanded with smoke to comment, “That’s an awfully
big bed you have down there.” A small smile pulled at her mouth as he choked
out the smoke, coughing.

When
he got his breath back, he rasped out, “What?”

“The
bed. It’s huge.”

A
grin formed on his face. “Yeah, it is. This conversation headed where I think
it is?”

She
huffed out a laugh. “Hardly. I’m just curious why a man like you would get a
bed like that.”

“Ah,
we’re back to that ‘man-like-me’ stuff, huh?”

She
rolled her eyes.

He
grinned, looking back at the horizon. “Angel found it.”

“Huh?”

“The
bed. Angel found it at some estate sale. Insisted I was the only person she
knew with a space big enough for it.”

“So
you bought it? Just because of that?”

He
shrugged. “She sorta had her heart set on finding it a home. I needed a bed. It
made her happy, so…”

“So
you bought it.”

“Yeah.”

Amazing.
Who would do something like that? Just to make a woman, a woman that wasn’t
even
his
woman by the way, happy. She
frowned. He really wasn’t adding up to be who she thought. Trying to bend him
back into the man she expected him to be, she asked snidely, “Bet the women
just love it.”

“The
women?”

She
gave him a look. There were women. The way he looked, there were lots. “Yes,
the women.”

“You
fishing for a number, Shannon?”

She
huffed out a breath. “I’m sure it’d be astronomical.”

He
gave a short laugh. “Pleased to hear you think I’m such a babe magnet.”

“You’re
hot, and I’m sure you know it.”

“I’m
hot, huh?”

She
rolled her eyes. “Stroking your ego is not my job here.”

“Princess,
now you’ve got me thinking about you stroking something.”

“God,
you’re a Neanderthal!”

He
grinned. “Deep down, most men are, darlin’, even the one’s wearin’ a suit and
tie.”

“Right.
They may think those things, but they don’t say them.”

“Oh,
I guarantee you they’re thinking them. Especially, anytime
you’re
in the vicinity.”

She
looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Oh, so now
you’re
saying
I’m
hot?”

“Babe,
you know you are. What’s worse, you use it to manipulate men into getting your
way.”

“Well,
you don’t think too much of me, do you?”

“Didn’t
think I’d made that a secret.”

“My
God, you have no filter at all!”

“I
say what I mean. I don’t play games. You aren’t ever gonna have to guess how I
feel about something, sweetheart.”

Crash
looked over at her out of the corner of his eye. It was entertaining riling her
up. For his own amusement, he decided to keep it going, exaggerating his comments
way past what his actual views were. He studied the horizon and sipped his beer
considering several smart remarks when she started back in, giving him an
opening.

She huffed out a little breath. “It’s men like you that drive women
crazy.”

“No, you got that backwards, darlin’. Women drive men crazy.” He kept
his eyes on the horizon.

She gave a little smirk. “It’s what we’re put on this earth to do.”