Page 91 of Not So Goode
“You just thought you did. I was born into it. It’s different.”
“Just gotta get this timeline right—been a few years, hard to remember it all straight. So—your mom and dad and a good half of the club died when you were thirteen, you lived with Sister Maria in Mexico for a year while your grandparents were off-grid down on the Yucatán, and then we lived with River Dog and Mammy for two years—making you and Tania…sixteen?” He nodded. “Sounds right. Anyway, you and Tania were a thing, when you returned to the El Paso compound after River Dog died. You and her were inseparable. Inluuuuurrrrvvvvv.” He drawled the word, making a joke of it.
Crow’s scowl turned on Myles. “Don’t mock, motherfucker.”
Myles sighed. “Sorry. Just tryin’ to lighten the mood a bit.”
“It’s an old ugly story. Lighten the mood later. Get to the fuckin’ point so we can be done with exhuming the memory of my dead fuckin’ fiancé.” I’d never heard anyone, ever, sound so bitter, so morose, so unhappy. The darkness in his eyes was vicious, subsuming, swallowing, boiling.
Maybe this telling of truths had been a mistake.
But I’d…I’d watched him kill someone. Watched him singlehandedly decimate eleven tough men. He’d taken a beating without flinching, taken a nasty cut to the ribs and patched it up with a T-shirt and duct tape. Speaking of which—
“I should look at your ribs, Crow,” I said.
He shook his head. Swigged from the bottle of Johnnie Walker. “Nah. I’m fine. It’s a cut. Had worse. Forget about it.”
“It needs stitches,” I said.
“I ain’t getting no goddamn stitches, woman, so fuckin’ forget it,” he snarled. “I don’t do hospitals. I don’t do doctors. It’ll heal. If it don’t, who the fuck is gonna care? I won’t bleed to death from that little cut.”
“It’s not little,” I pressed. “It’s six inches long and very deep.”
He stared me down, eyes colder than anything I’d ever seen. From him or anyone. “I said I’mfine.Quit pushing, Charlotte.”
I bit back emotions. “I’m just concerned, Crow.”
“Don’t be. I’m just a killer, right? So why fuckin’ bother?”
“That’s not—Crow, I’m not—”
He turned away from me, a clear dismissal. He took another long pull, and I realized he’d already had nearly a quarter of the bottle, yet showed no signs of inebriation.
“Just fucking tell her the story, Myles.” His voice was clear, steady, sober, and angry.
Myles shook his head. “Eighteen years old, you and Tania both. You were a fully patched-in member by then, and Tran’s right-hand man. Involved in everything. Don’t know how you managed it all, but you were everywhere, all at once. Acting as guitar tech, manager, and stage crew for me, living with Tania, and working for Tran and the club, all at once. Not sure when you slept.”
“Didn’t. Couple hours a night, three or four usually. Never needed much sleep. More than six hours a night and I get cranky from too much. Four is about my peak. Been that way since I was a kid. Drove Mom and Dad nuts. They’d put me to bed at nine, and I’d be up for the day by one in the morning. Then they let me stay up till midnight, but I’d be up for the day by three or four a.m.”
“Makes sense. You’d run a show for me at some bar in East Texas, and then you’d haul off on your bike to do some sort of club business in Arizona or New Mexico or somewhere else in Texas. You were on that bike for hours a day.” Myles waved a hand. “Anyway. You, Tania, Yank, and Boots and their girls were all out partying one weekend. I joined you later in the night with a girl I was seeing at the time.”
“Seeing? You were screwing her. And three other women that I knew of,” Crow put in. “Let’s not paint too rosy a picture.”
Myles shrugged. “Sure, fine. Jessica was a friend with benefits.” A glance at Lexie to assess her reaction.
She just grinned at him. “I had four friends with benefits on rotation, once, during my sophomore year at U-Conn.”
Myles was relieved, visibly. “How’d you rotate them without pissing anyone off?”
She smirked. “I didn’t. I just texted whoever I felt like fucking at the time, based on which dick seemed to fit my mood. They knew the score, and if they wanted this poon, they played by my rules.” Lexie laughed, running a hand through her messy hair. “I wasn’t about to play games. It was sex, plain and simple. No place for feelings, especially not jealousy. Start acting possessive, or try to tell me what I can do or with whom, you get ghosted real fast.”
Myles chuckled. “Hard ball, huh?”
“I mean, I have a very healthy respect for my pussy. I know what I have to offer, and if you don’t wanna play by my rules, you don’t get my poon.”
I huffed. “Lexie, you aresovulgar. You’re worse than most guys I know.”
Myles grinned at Lexie. “Well, all I’m gonna say is, where do I sign up for a slot in your rotation?”