Page 106 of Not So Goode

He paused, meaningful, heavy, significant. “That fella, the one Crow killed in the fight? He was a member of the crew who’d tangled with the AzTex and killed Crow’s folks, but he’d stayed behind to watch the compound. He knew who Crow was, knew what had happened, and picked that fight on purpose. Crow oughta have died, that day. Nearly did. Head was all but caved in, nose broke in four places, lost teeth, busted jaw, busted ribs, but he finished his man and then some.”

I swallowed. Blinked back tears. “He doesn’t remember it. Doesn’t remember who the guy was.”

“Not surprised, not as drunk as they say he was. Miscarriage of justice, him being convicted, if you ask me.” A glance at me. “He carryin’ guilt about it?”

I shrugged. “I think so.”

“He shouldn’t. Not a bit. His blood alcohol level, when the ambulance took him in, was somethin’ like point-three-two. Shoulda been fatal. Then the beating he took? Damned incredible he survived any of it. And that fella he killed was bad, bad,badnews. Picked that fight a’purpose, thinkin’ he’d finish the job his crew started, I guess. Revenge, maybe, seein’ as the AzTex took out his whole club.”

I blinked, but tears trickled down anyway. “The fight I watched him get into, he couldn’t have stopped it either. Couldn’t have walked away.”

“I can see how you’d be scared, though,” Mom said. “That’s not the world we raised you in.”

Lucas made a gruff sound. “A man defending himself ain’t a crime. He oughta never have gone to jail. He faced down men tryin’ to kill him, and he was so drunk he was beyond any kind of reason. And even that was understandable, given what had happened. You ask me, can’t really hold that against him. Man like him? He’d never hurt you. He’d die first.”

“But you have to remember how I raised my girls, Lucas. Violence is unfamiliar to them.”

“Cushy and sweet, which is what makes you and your girls––the ones I met so far––so attractive to men like me, like Ink, and like I figure Crow is. We like the soft and sweet. But we don’t figure we deserve it.” He held up his hands, huge, monstrously powerful hands, scarred and weathered. “We think hands like these’ll leave stains on you.”

I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. “I was scared. He’s so…rough. So wild.”

Lucas rested his massive paws on my hands. “Lassoing a man like Crow is no joke, darlin’. He ain’t ever gonna be tame. You gotta know you want the man as he is, and want all of him, and know you ain’t ever gonna make him different. You cain’t. Nothin’ can.”

“I was too afraid to try, so I ran away.”

“Well, I knew Coyote well enough to know he didn’t raise no pussy. Crow might’ve let you run off, knowin’ you needed time. But ain’t no way in hell he’d let you stay gone. I’d just be countin’ the days till that hard-ass son of a bitch shows up here, lookin’ for you.” He winked. “An’ if he’s any kind of man, your ass being a little bigger is only gonna fire him up, darlin’.”

“Lucas, really.” Mom’s heart wasn’t in it, though.

I blushed. “I’ve got a feeling you’re right on that last part, at least.” I sighed. “And I can only hope you’re right on the first part.”

14

Crow

Sixty-two hours after leaving El Paso, I parked River Dog’s—my—truck and RV near a place called Badd’s Bar and Grille.

I’d texted Lexie asking her where I’d find Charlie, and she’d done some asking around of her own—her sister Cassie, I believe—and I got this place as the answer.

So I sat taking up too many spaces in the lot, watching the open door of the bar. It was busy inside. Bustling with tourists. Outside, a monster of a dude sporting a ponytail mohawk and WWE-worthy physique sat on a stool, arms crossed, idly watching the crowd.

I finally summoned the gumption to leave my truck, and shrugged my shoulders at the unfamiliar feel of the plain black T-shirt I was wearing. Shit, I hadn’t worn anything but that old cut in years.

I ambled to the door of the bar, and the monster on the stool glanced at me, assessing my age. “Have fun, and no trouble. I’ll toss you on your ass so fast you’ll meet your own ancestors, if you make trouble.”

“Actually, I’m looking for Charlotte Goode.”

He tilted his head, eyeing me. “Charlie?”

I nodded, swallowing. “Yeah, Charlie. Heard she may be here.”

“Depends on what you want.”

“To talk to her.”

“She wanna talk to you?” He was protective, and I got it, appreciated it in fact.

“I don’t know. Maybe not.”