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Authors: Paula Marinaro
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Melissa repeated a little louder now.
“T-o-n-i,” Toni offered. “It’s you know…like a nickname.”
Unexpectedly Crow flashed a huge grin. And what that did to his face took Melissa’s breath away.
“Nice to fucking meet you, Toni.” Crow kept that shit-eating grin.
“Nice to fucking meet you too, Crow.” Toni stopped just short of a giggle.
Melissa watched them both and had no idea what had just happened.
“Is that a feather?” Toni looked boldly at the tattoo inked over Crow’s heart.
“Yeah. Eagle feather,” Crow answered. His expression relaxed and his tone turned congenial now.
Humph .
“What does Brave Enough mean?” Toni was looking at Crow like she wanted to reach out and lick that feather right off.
Melissa fought the sudden confusing urge to jump between them.
“Brave Enough to get it, Brave Enough to keep it.” Crow ran a calloused finger over the ink.
“But what?” Toni asked breathlessly. “Brave Enough to get what? To keep what ? ”
Crow looked straight at Melissa then.
“Whatever I want.”
Chapter 9
Crow smirked when he thought of the conversation with Toni and Melissa, but really it was the conversation with Jett that stuck in Crow’s mind. If possible, it had made him even more curious than ever before about Melissa Raymoor. He wanted to know why she had sold all her stuff, packed up her kid and headed miles and miles away to a place that she had only seen in pictures.
And Crow knew just the guy to ask.
Jules Bonny was Prosper’s Sergeant-at-Arms and the club go-to-guy. Back in the day, Jules and Crow had been prospects in the MC together. Because Crow was practically raised in the club, he knew the ins and outs of the year-long initiation and helped Jules navigate those dangerous waters. Jules, being the kind of guy he was, had never forgotten that help, and Crow, being the kind of guy he was, had never taken advantage of Jules feeling that.
So when Crow asked his best friend to put out a looksee on Melissa Raymoor, Jules was more than happy to oblige.
My mom sold almost all our stuff and then we moved.
Sounded a lot like Melissa had felt a need to travel light and run fast. And Crow knew all about that.
Lots of kids in school don’t have dads.
Crow knew all about that too.
He lit a joint, grabbed a beer and braced himself as the memories came flooding back.
***
Twelve-year-old Crow was roused from an uneasy sleep at the sound of the familiar hard bang on the door of the ramshackle trailer home. His eyes immediately flew open and he felt the fast beating of his heart. From the thin mattress on the floor, Crow looked up and out of the grime encrusted window. The Tamarisk tree that grew just on the other side of the dirt yard stood in eerie illumination against the night sky. He used to love that tree. Before the suicide, he used to climb that tree and hunt for the nests of mourning doves.
“Don’t look at it. Don’t climb it,” Shiwóyé had warned him gently after the local teenage girl hanged herself from one of the sturdy twisted branches.
Shiwóyé always looked out for him that way. Without her guiding influence, life would have been so much worse for the young Apache boy. But as fate would have it, Crow’s beloved grandmother, his Shiwóyé, died the spring he turned ten, taking with her the only steady, loving force in his young life.
Her daughter, Nalin, Crow's mother, did not even come close to having the skills that it took to raise a child solo. What she did have was the exotic beauty of an Apache woman and a severe alcohol and crack cocaine addiction. By the time Crow was eleven years old, Nalin had given up even trying to be a mother, and by the time he was twelve, Crow had given up trying to make her be one. But he never gave up on trying to keep her alive. And it had just gotten harder and harder.
Thank God that the school on the reservation had breakfast and lunch programs. Those meals kept Crow and his mother fed. Crow
“T-o-n-i,” Toni offered. “It’s you know…like a nickname.”
Unexpectedly Crow flashed a huge grin. And what that did to his face took Melissa’s breath away.
“Nice to fucking meet you, Toni.” Crow kept that shit-eating grin.
“Nice to fucking meet you too, Crow.” Toni stopped just short of a giggle.
Melissa watched them both and had no idea what had just happened.
“Is that a feather?” Toni looked boldly at the tattoo inked over Crow’s heart.
“Yeah. Eagle feather,” Crow answered. His expression relaxed and his tone turned congenial now.
Humph .
“What does Brave Enough mean?” Toni was looking at Crow like she wanted to reach out and lick that feather right off.
Melissa fought the sudden confusing urge to jump between them.
“Brave Enough to get it, Brave Enough to keep it.” Crow ran a calloused finger over the ink.
“But what?” Toni asked breathlessly. “Brave Enough to get what? To keep what ? ”
Crow looked straight at Melissa then.
“Whatever I want.”
Chapter 9
Crow smirked when he thought of the conversation with Toni and Melissa, but really it was the conversation with Jett that stuck in Crow’s mind. If possible, it had made him even more curious than ever before about Melissa Raymoor. He wanted to know why she had sold all her stuff, packed up her kid and headed miles and miles away to a place that she had only seen in pictures.
And Crow knew just the guy to ask.
Jules Bonny was Prosper’s Sergeant-at-Arms and the club go-to-guy. Back in the day, Jules and Crow had been prospects in the MC together. Because Crow was practically raised in the club, he knew the ins and outs of the year-long initiation and helped Jules navigate those dangerous waters. Jules, being the kind of guy he was, had never forgotten that help, and Crow, being the kind of guy he was, had never taken advantage of Jules feeling that.
So when Crow asked his best friend to put out a looksee on Melissa Raymoor, Jules was more than happy to oblige.
My mom sold almost all our stuff and then we moved.
Sounded a lot like Melissa had felt a need to travel light and run fast. And Crow knew all about that.
Lots of kids in school don’t have dads.
Crow knew all about that too.
He lit a joint, grabbed a beer and braced himself as the memories came flooding back.
***
Twelve-year-old Crow was roused from an uneasy sleep at the sound of the familiar hard bang on the door of the ramshackle trailer home. His eyes immediately flew open and he felt the fast beating of his heart. From the thin mattress on the floor, Crow looked up and out of the grime encrusted window. The Tamarisk tree that grew just on the other side of the dirt yard stood in eerie illumination against the night sky. He used to love that tree. Before the suicide, he used to climb that tree and hunt for the nests of mourning doves.
“Don’t look at it. Don’t climb it,” Shiwóyé had warned him gently after the local teenage girl hanged herself from one of the sturdy twisted branches.
Shiwóyé always looked out for him that way. Without her guiding influence, life would have been so much worse for the young Apache boy. But as fate would have it, Crow’s beloved grandmother, his Shiwóyé, died the spring he turned ten, taking with her the only steady, loving force in his young life.
Her daughter, Nalin, Crow's mother, did not even come close to having the skills that it took to raise a child solo. What she did have was the exotic beauty of an Apache woman and a severe alcohol and crack cocaine addiction. By the time Crow was eleven years old, Nalin had given up even trying to be a mother, and by the time he was twelve, Crow had given up trying to make her be one. But he never gave up on trying to keep her alive. And it had just gotten harder and harder.
Thank God that the school on the reservation had breakfast and lunch programs. Those meals kept Crow and his mother fed. Crow
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