Taming Crow (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club) by Paula Marinaro Read Free Book Online Page A

clubhouse sat on, and he liked that the club pussy hung back unless told otherwise. He got reacquainted with the boys, played a few hands of poker, and went out on a couple of short runs. It was all good. Crow was feeling pretty relaxed by the time he decided to head back. He had a lot to do if he was going to make that place habitable and ready to sell. It was time.
    As he roared down the road his thoughts turned once again to Melissa. He couldn't remember what Murphy had told him about how her husband had died. Something about the Army, or maybe it was the Air Force.
    Crow didn't give a fuck.
    Dead is dead.
    Though he had noticed the wedding ring that Melissa wore on a chain around her neck and the way she had clutched at it when he had scared her. He wondered about the gesture, but then in the next second he dismissed the thought.
    Because really he had enough of his own shit to deal with.
    What was that saying Pinky was always throwing around? Not my monkey. Not my circus .

Chapter 6
    Except for a few quick glances at each other during their comings and goings, Crow didn't see much of Melissa for the next few days. He spent all of his time doing a complete inspection of the large house and was not surprised to find it to be a goddamn painful journey. Every room, every beam, every stud, every painstakingly designed angle held their own sad reminders of a marriage that had failed.
    The bedroom was the worst.
    So Crow started there first.
    He tore the metal bed frame apart and dragged the mattress out into the yard. There he heaved them both into the van along with the other meager furnishings and drove hell-bent out to the town dump where he paid fifty bucks for a resident sticker and the privilege of ridding himself of the past.
    Then he took a sledgehammer to the house and beat holes into every solid thing he could find.
    For days.
    By the end of the week, most of the first floor was unrecognizable from the original blueprints and that suited Crow just fine. He had been careful to leave the structural integrity of the house intact, but everything else was fair game. After several days of doing nothing but crashing through walls, drinking cold beer, smoking premium weed and chugging down coffee, he figured he had earned himself some relaxation time.
    And for Crow that meant working on his bike.
    So after making a trip to the auto parts store, he grabbed himself a fresh pack of smokes, a six-pack of beer and the new, expensive set of LED lights. Then he made his way to the side yard where he parked his Harley.
    When Crow glanced across the lawn ten minutes later, he was not surprised to find the kid next door perched on the picnic table watching him. At first, Crow thought it might be coincidence that every time he was out in the yard, Melissa’s kid would be out there too. But then Crow noticed that when he wasn’t in the side yard, neither was Jett. Not that the kid wasn’t outside, he just wasn’t doing his best to sit stock still on a wooden bench. When Crow was inside working on the interior, he had a good view of Jett hanging with his mom in the backyard. Sometimes it made Crow tired just looking at him. Kid was a study in perpetual motion.
    Even though Crow had overheard Melissa firmly warn her son that watching Crow work meant sitting quietly at a distance, Crow figured for a kid like that, it was just a matter of time before curiosity killed the cat. So keeping that in mind, Crow started being extra careful not to leave any demolition debris lying around on the lawn. The last thing he needed was the little mother totally freaking out because her kid got stuck by a saw blade.
    Besides, Crow figured he owed her.
    Because in the past couple of days, at any given moment, he had Melissa Raymoor to thank for the fact that he had not hit full throttle and ridden out hell bent to find Patrick Murphy or Jaci. Or both of them.
    And kill them.
    Safe to say that looking at the cottage next door was the only thing that