Storm Crows MC, 4
Ashlyn saved her best friends' lives—and all it really cost was her marriage. She returns to Oak Grove with Joker's ring on her finger, but feeling the loss of his trust with every heartbeat. Not to mention knowing he's seen the video evidence of her worst moments. Meanwhile, a vendetta from Joker's past calls his attention as the Crows wrap up Duro's trafficking operations and end Bennett Fitzgerald's brief empire. He focuses on revenge, and balancing the scales rather than thinking about how to bridge the gap growing in his marriage.
Stumbling across secrets with every turn they take, both Ash and Joker question whether they know one another at all. And whether they love each other enough to let go.
With luck, Joker and Ash might just learn to ride the wind.
Excerpt:
They never tell you what to do after the apocalypse. The thought circled round and round Ashlyn’s brain as Joker guided her out of the office and into a back room in the KC clubhouse… Dorm? Barracks? “Guest rooms” seemed like the wrong term, but they had similar facilities in the back of the Pharaoh County clubhouse. Must be an Official Thing. Hotel Crowville…
Joker’s gentle touch on her arm grounded her in the present, keeping the panic at bay. Until he let go. “Here, baby. Stay put, okay?” He nudged her across the threshold and into the sparse, dorm-like space.
She glanced from the one tiny, barred window to her husband. “Um…” She tugged at the hem of her only remaining garment—one of Joker’s dark gray Storm Crow t-shirts—which thankfully hung over her thighs. Running out into the clubhouse’s crowded main room in nothing but an oversized wet t-shirt hadn’t been fun the first time. A repeat performance would probably be worse. Maybe. She stared at the barred window. “Sure. Okay.” Joker didn’t give her a chance to change her mind—he was gone by the time she turned around. Like a ghost. She hadn’t even heard the door shut.
Out of curiosity, she turned the handle. It wasn’t locked. But “stay put” means “stay out of the way.” Better listen. She thumped her head against the doorframe. Stuck in an outlaw clubhouse. And I just tricked my ex-fiancé into their custody and revealed one of my best friends is a Lobos cartel leader. Probably torched my marriage in the process.
Another day in paradise. Well done, Self.
Ash flopped onto the bed and put her hands over her eyes as she mentally ran down the situation. Again. Thanks to Case, Jenna was safely out of the shower instead of shivering into an emotionally devastated prune. Ash prayed the pair could work things out—Jen deserved to be happy, and Case deserved someone who’d love him, not just for his patch or his abs. Ash didn’t have that much hope for her own future. Which was why she had to mop up her eyes when someone eventually knocked at the battered door. Had she been moping for fifteen minutes? An hour? She didn’t want to look at her phone and find out.
I hope it’s a firing squad. Get this shit over with. Ash got to her feet and peeked outside. A tall, curvy woman stood in the hall, smiling.
“Oh, honey,” the stranger said like she’d just found a long-lost friend stumbling around a dive bar’s back alley. “You must be Trouble? I’m Tasha.”
“Um. Hi? I, er, forgot they said someone was coming.” But Tree did say that, she reminded herself. After I barged into the meeting. About the time he realized I was wearing nothing but a t-shirt. She’d be mortified about being almost naked in front of her father-in-law whenever her brain found space for that. As long as I don’t think too hard about how much of me he saw in Ben’s blackmail videos first. That thought rattled her so hard she barely noticed the stranger’s expression falter into one of concern.
“I’m Dusty’s wife.” The explanation drew another blank stare from Ash.
Meaning the president of the KC Crows charter? The hell do I do with this?
Don’t fuck up. Do not piss her off and make things even worse. Smile. Let her in. Be fucking perfect.
“Oh! Gosh. I’m an idiot. Sorry, I haven’t really met him.” Ash emphasized her apology for this dreadful oversight by standing aside so Tasha could enter the room. “Today’s gotten a bit, er, out of hand.”
“I’d say that’s an understatement.” Tasha hefted a ragged Walmart bag as she passed Ash and dropped it onto the bed. “The boys said you needed some clothes, but they weren’t helpful on sizes, so I’ve brought some leggings and tees. I grabbed a couple of mine and a couple of my daughter’s. Good thing… Do they even feed y’all in Illinois? My God, you’re tiny. Is the other girl your size, too?”
“She’s, er, taller?” There were so many words, and the ones in her head were so loud… Ash followed Tasha’s shapely lead over to the bed.
“Do I even want to know how they got you all here without clothes?” Tasha’s eyes locked onto the bruises blossoming on Ash’s left arm. “If I need to knock Dusty’s head off—”
“No. No, it’s… um. Extenuating circumstances happened. To our clothes. I mean, we do have clothes. Somewhere. I just, er, don’t know where they ended up.”
“Christ, this is about the shitheads who fucked with Indy’s niece, isn’t it?”
“Um. Y-yes?” She vaguely remembered Grim had been summoned to KC to look for someone’s niece. Why not Indy’s?
“Jesus, take the wheel.” Tasha touched a gold cross necklace at her throat. “It’s like living in a goddamn HBO show lately. At least you’re in better shape than those other two.” Her dark eyes flashed toward the KC Crows’ sanctum, and she shut the bedroom door before Ash could get to it.
With the muffled wild rumpus from the other room, Ash realized how loud her heartbeat was. “O-other two?”
“The ones the psycho sent to Tree and Dusty? You hear about that?”
“Um.” Ash pushed her half-dried hair away from her face and avoided meeting Tasha’s gaze. “What happened to them? It’s been so wild, I d-don’t think anybody thought to tell me.”
“Tree called a cop he trusts to get them into some trafficking victim program.” Tasha’s lips thinned. “Don’t know if that’ll do jack shit, but I guess it’s better than handing them fifty bucks and a bus ticket.”
“Maybe.”
The older woman began laying items out on the wrinkled blue bedspread. Tasha had thoughtfully brought a pair of pajama pants as well as the leggings and some shorts.
Ash eyed each item in turn. The pants would be too long for me, but they’d work for Jenna… A couple hoodies, socks, and a pack of dollar store undies completed the emergency supply, and their bright, rubber ducky patterns even made her smile despite the fact they were too big. They’d be better than nothing. Ash wasn’t in the mood to go commando. “Thank you. Seriously.”
Tasha nodded, and her eyes swept over Ash again, lingering too long on the split lip and darkening bruises along her arm. “You really tangled with the bad guys? Figured everybody’d know better than to try it on with Joker’s ol’ lady already.”
Ash blinked, trying to estimate how much Tasha knew. “I d-don’t think they realized who I was when I went in to m-make the drop.” Which was true enough. Ben only accepted one truth: That Ash belonged to him—not Joker. Not even herself. And standing in this dizzy, echoing after-world, Ash wondered if he wasn’t right after all.
- Series:
- /series-storm-crows-mc/
