CRASH: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series) (53 page)

*****

It was a week before the worst of the withdrawal symptoms were over. In
that time, Crash never left Shannon’s side. He made her soup and waited on her,
until finally she’d had enough of sitting inside and begged Crash to take her
for a ride on his bike.

“Okay, baby. Let’s go.”

They were headed to the elevator when Crash’s cell went off. He pulled
it out, glancing down at the screen. Cole. Putting it to his ear, he answered.
“Yeah?”

“Open up.”

Crash disconnected and stepped over to open the garage door.

“Who is it?” Shannon asked as she heard a bike roll in downstairs.

“Cole.”

When the elevator opened both Cole and Angel stepped out. Shannon ran to
her, hugging her tight. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry.”

“Honey, I’m fine. How are you?”

“Over the worst of it. It was pretty bad there for a couple of days.”

Angel nodded. “I know. I felt the same way.” She looked over at her
husband. “Cole took good care of me.”

“Do you want some coffee?” Shannon offered.

“That would be great.” The women moved off to the kitchen.

Cole looked over at Crash. “Sorry, she insisted I bring her over so she
could see for herself that your girl was okay.”

Crash grinned. “No problem. Shannon was going a little stir crazy being
inside for days. She finally felt better today. I was gonna take her for a
ride.”

“You want company? We could all take a ride down the coast, get some
lunch.”

“Sounds good.” Crash looked over his shoulder at the women. “Looks like
they’re having coffee. You want some?”

Cole shrugged.

They all ended up on the roof drinking coffee. Later they took a long
ride down the coast and stopped for a late lunch. They stopped at some shops
and at one point the girls wandered off while the guys sat in an outside patio
and had a beer. The sun was going down by the time they split off, Cole and
Angel heading home and Crash and Shannon heading back to his loft.

When Crash came out of the shower later that night, Shannon was over
near the bookshelves behind the pool table. She was gathering up some plastic
wrapping and packaging, wadding it up in a ball. Crash rubbed a towel over his
head as he walked up in his jeans, shirtless. “What are you doing, sweetheart?”

She smiled up at him. “I just framed a couple of the photos I took.”

His eyes skated past her to the framed pictures on the low bookcase.
They were simple black wood frames. One held a black and white photo of Crash
from the day he’d waited outside the shop for her in Lake Tahoe. In the photo
he was laid back on his bike, his head resting on his handlebars, his legs
crossed and resting on his rear fender, his arms folded, and his eyes closed.
He grinned. Shit, one nudge, and he’d have tumbled off. His eyes moved to the
next picture. It was a color shot of all the guys standing in front of their
bikes that morning in Reno, chrome glinting in the morning sun. He and his
brothers were all laughing at something. It was a great shot. He looked at the
next frame. It was a shot of him holding Melissa in his arms, their pinky
fingers hooked, smiling at each other.

Crash’s eyes met Shannon’s. “Babe. Thank you.” He pulled her to him and
kissed her.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Things were great between them for about a week.

Then Shannon got a call from her sister. Their father had committed
suicide, and their mother was hysterical. Shannon hung up. One look at her, and
Crash was across the room, holding her. “Shannon, what is it?”

“My father. He’s dead.”

“What?” Crash asked stunned. His hand stroking her hair froze. He’d
wanted the man dead for the hell he’d put his daughter through, but he never
wanted Shannon to have to go through this heartbreak. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

“Can you take me home? I need to go home.”

“Of course, baby. Whatever you want. We can leave right now.”

“I…I have to pack first.”

Crash pulled back. “Pack? What do you mean, pack?”

“They’re going to need me.”

“So that’s it, you’re just leaving? Just going back?”

“My mother and sister need me.”

“I need you.”

“Crash, please.”

“Baby, I’ll take you back, but I want you to come back here.”

“I will.”

“Baby, I want you in my bed every night.” When she didn’t respond, he
continued, “I thought that was what you wanted, too.”

“Crash, please. I can’t talk about it now. I just need to get home.”

He nodded, thinking he’d misread everything. Maybe it had always been
her plan to go back home. He replied softly, “Sure. What do you need me to do?”

Crash took Shannon back to her parent’s home. He felt strange and out of
place in the large mansion surrounded by expensive things, and he began to see
just how crazy it was to think a relationship between two people so different,
from such different upbringings and background could ever work. Not in the real
world. Not long term. But he loved her enough to at least try, to at least give
it a shot. Looking over at Shannon, he only hoped she felt the same. Earlier
this week, if he’d been asked, he would have been sure. Now he wasn’t feeling
that same certainty anymore.

Shannon was surrounded by her mother, sister and other family members as
he stood to the side, feeling more and more out of place. It seemed that
instead of turning to him, this heartbreak was pushing them apart.

He’d finally had a chance to talk to her when her family wasn’t
surrounding her. He’d found her in her father’s office, standing at his desk,
looking down at a piece of paper. “Shannon, it’s getting late, I guess I’ll
head back to the loft now. You coming with me?” She lifted her eyes to his, and
he frowned seeing the tears in her eyes. “Shannon? You okay?”

“You said these things to him?” She held up the piece of paper in her
hand.

Crash didn’t have a clue what she was referring to. “What things? What
are you talking about?”

Her tone sharpened, shocking him with the anger she directed at him.
“This is his suicide note, Crash.” She held it out to him. “Here. Read it!”

“Shannon, calm the fuck down.” He took the paper, wondering what
bullshit the man was filling her head with from beyond the grave. His eyes
skimmed down through the note. That son-of-a-bitch. Even in his goddamned last
fucking words, he couldn’t own up and take responsibility for his own fuckups. No,
he had to put the blame on someone else. This time apparently, him. Crash’s eyes
lifted to Shannon. “This is a load of crap, babe.”

“You didn’t say those things to him?” She nodded toward the paper.

He looked down and read.

It’s been pointed
out to me what a failure I’ve been to my family and especially my oldest
daughter. How wanting the best for someone was construed as trading her away to
save myself. It isn’t true, what he accused me of, Shannon. I didn’t turn you
over to a monster with no regard for your happiness or even your safety. He
accused me of doing that to keep myself out of prison. When I said I only
wanted the best for my daughter, he told me the best I could do for you was to
blow my own brains out.

I’m sorry if I
waited too long.

“Jesus, Shannon. Even in his death, he’s gotta pass the blame and dole
out a helping of guilt to go along with it. This is a crock of shit.”

“Did you say those things to him? When you visited him at his office, is
that what you did, is that what you said to him?”

“Baby….”

“
Did you say those things?”
she practically screeched at him.

Crash blew out a breath. “Yeah. I said them, and I meant every word.”

“You told my father to
blow his
brains out
?”

“Baby, don’t do this. Don’t let him rip us apart.”

“Did you say that to him?”

“I said a lot of shit. I was angry. I was trying to get him to tell me
where Ralston had Angel.”

“Are you going to stand there and tell me my father was a part of that
now, too?”

“Baby…”

“Just get out.”

Crash looked at her stunned. His chest felt like he’d just had the wind
knocked out of him. “Shannon-”

“Go! We’re done! I don’t want you here.
Get out!”

Crash swallowed. He knew there wasn’t a damned thing he could say to her
now that she would even listen to. He turned and strode out of the room and got
the hell out of there. Fuck this shit. He didn’t need it. He didn’t need her.
But even as the thought went through his brain, he knew it was a lie.

*****

Four days later…

Shannon walked tiredly into her old bedroom. She sat down at her
dressing table and slipped out of the black heels that matched the black sleeveless
sheath dress she’d worn to her father’s funeral. Reaching down she rubbed her
feet. It had been a long day, between the church service, the procession to the
cemetery and the graveside service. Then of course, closest family, friends and
business associates had all been invited back to their home for coffee and
cake.

It was past seven in the evening now, and all Shannon could think about
was taking a long hot bath and crawling into bed. Her mother’s physician had
prescribed Shannon something to help her through the stress, but Shannon hadn’t
wanted to use them. She was afraid it would become all too easy to become
dependent on them, and the last thing she wanted to do was fall into that trap.

In all the time she’d spent with Crash, he’d helped her to be able to
sleep without resorting to the sleeping pills that she’d become all too
dependent on or the anxiety medicine that she’d used like a crutch for so many
years. With Crash, she’d learned to deal with her feelings without chemical
help. He’d given her the faith to try with his quiet strength. He always calmed
her, just by being near her. His arms around her, his mouth at her ear, just
his touch could calm her like no pill ever could.

And now he was gone.

Shannon stared into the mirror above her dressing table. Her hand went
to her throat, picking up the pendent that hung around her neck. She rubbed it
with her thumb and forefinger like a talisman. It gave her strength. She closed
her eyes and thought of him, remembering his hands on her. She tried to imagine
him coming up behind her now and wrapping her in his arms, his mouth at her
ear, whispering, telling her it was all going to be okay.

She opened her eyes. There was no use wishing things had gone
differently. He was gone. She hadn’t heard from him since she’d ordered him out
four days ago. She’d thought maybe he’d call, or come by the funeral home or
the church to pay his respects. She’d even scanned the cemetery, hoping to see
him standing on the peripheral at the gravesite. But he hadn’t come. She’d told
him they were done, and he’d apparently taken her at her word.

Movement in the mirror caught her eye, and she looked up. And then she
was spinning around on her dressing stool to see Crash standing there, moving
out of the shadows by the French doors that led to the veranda. “Crash.”

Moving slowly toward her, he paused near her dresser. His hand reaching
out and touching the things there. Her hair brush, a bracelet, a scarf. Then he
picked up a bottle of her perfume and brought it to his nose, inhaling the
fragrance. She watched his eyes slide closed.

“What are you doing here?”

He moved toward her. “I came to check on you. Are you okay, Princess?”

She spun back toward the dressing table and began working the studs out
of her ears. “I’m fine. I don’t know how you got in here, but please leave.”

“Had to sneak through the back. The front is covered up with news media.
That must be rough on you.”

She met his eyes in the mirror. “Yes, it is. Especially the
photographers. Snapping pictures of us in our grief and printing lies about my
father in the paper.”

“Are they lies, Shannon?”

She spun on him then. “Get out! I don’t know how you got in, but go back
the way you came. I don’t need your picture showing up in the paper and them
speculating about you and why you’d be here.” She could see that stung by the
way his jaw clenched. Why was he here? To torment her about her father some
more?

“Shannon, if you’d just give me a chance to explain-”

“There’s nothing to explain. We’re done. Just go.”

“We are not done, Shannon. We are so far from done-”

“What don’t you understand? I want you gone!” She reached around to
unlatch the necklace Crash had given her, and then she stood and held it out to
him. “Here. Take it. I don’t want it. And I don’t want you.”

Crash’s eyes fell to the pendant dangling from her hand. He’d spent
almost a grand on it at that jewelry store at the hotel in Reno the night of
her birthday. That probably wasn’t a lot of money to her, but to him it had
been. He watched the stone setting swing from her hands. “Keep it, Princess.”

She shook her hand. “Take it. I don’t want it.”

He reluctantly reached out, and she dropped it into his palm.

“Thanks for everything you did for me, Crash. I mean that. But I need
you to go now.”

“Shannon. Goddamn, Princess, I don’t want to do this.”

“Please. Please just go, Crash.” She turned back to the dressing table,
dropping her head, and closing her eyes, she prayed for strength. She wanted so
bad to run into his arms.

“I didn’t say anything to him that wasn’t true, Shannon. I love you.
More than he
ever
did.”

His words cut her like a knife. Was it because they were true? Or was it
because his confession of love came too late. Her dream of Crash being her
white knight in shining armor had died with her father. She didn’t think she
could ever get past the fact that his words had driven her father to kill
himself. And she didn’t know if she could ever forgive him.

He reached around her, the necklace dangling from his hand. He set it
gently on the dressing table. “If you ever need me, for anything, sweetheart,
you know where I am.”

She stared down on the pendant, sparkling up at her, remembering how
happy she was when he’d given it to her. When she finally looked up into the
mirror, he was gone.

*****

Weeks went by, and Cole watched his brother slide into a state of
apathy, his carefree attitude and positive outlook on life gone. Gone like a
flame that had been blown out in a cold wind. Crash had begun spending all his
time at the club, rarely going home to his loft. Cole imagined it was because
the place reminded him too much of Shannon.

Cole sat at the bar in the clubhouse, across the L shaped bar from Crash
and watched as he poured himself another shot from the bottle of Jack sitting
in front of him. He wondered why he was even bothering with the shot glass.
When he could stand it no longer, he shouted to him over the loud music
blasting through the clubhouse, “All you’re doin’ is pourin’ whiskey on the
hurt.”

Crash turned to him with a vacant look in his eyes. “It’s my hurt. If I
want to drown it, I will.”

Cole shook his head. He picked up his drink and walked over to him,
taking the barstool next to Crash. Looking over at him, Cole observed, “She’s
got you messed up.”

Crash nodded. “I ain’t never felt like this, brother.” He was silent for
a moment, then continued. “I’ve let a lot of women walk out my door. Even with
Erin, I never got it. Never realized what that does to a person. But now I know
how it feels when someone lets you walk out that door and doesn’t even try to
stop you. It hurts, brother. It tears your fucking heart out.”

An hour later, Crash was playing pool, and Cole was sitting at the bar.

“What are we gonna do about him?” Mack asked quietly from his place
between Cole and Wolf.

Cole shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s working through it in his own
way.”