Always Someone’s Monster (Battle Crows MC 1)

I had a feeling the reason for his anger had a lot to do with a certain woman that he still hadn’t given me all the information he could’ve about.

“On a few conditions,” I told him, causing his eyes to light up. “We’re informed, every step of the way, what’s going on. Two, my brothers are aware of everything. Three, you let me deal with O’Ryan.”

Easton’s eye twitched. “I’ll give you the first two, but the last one…”

“The last one, I’ll share with you. But I won’t budge on the first two,” I acquiesced.

My brothers wouldn’t allow me to have that one on my own, anyway. Not to mention my new brother-in-law, Will.

I think he might put his cop hat away for the day when that time arrived.

“I’ll allow it.” Easton paused. “If you agree to this… I come with baggage. I’m fairly sure I have two men that are hell-bent on revenge, and that’ll mean your club might feel some of the blowback. Ten years in the FBI wasn’t very good to me enemy-wise.”

I shrugged. “That’s fine. I knew what I was getting with you. And it’s not like my brothers and I are little angels, either. Definitely not lately.”

Easton’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t say anything.

He couldn’t.

Because we were doing things now that cops wished they could.

All of the motherfuckers that escaped jail time with slaps on the wrists we ‘relocated.’ And by relocated, I meant we relocated them six feet under the ground with bullets in their heads.

Because the justice system was flawed.

The man sitting in front of me, seemingly uncaring about anything in life, knew that better than most.

He’d also done his research. Knew what we did.

Funny enough, almost all of our leads came from cops.

People that were bad, didn’t care that they were bad. And a lot of them had very good lawyers that got them off—if they were even caught.

Like the motherfucker that had tried to break into my house and rape my daughter. But, when realizing my daughter wasn’t the one there, had settled for the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about.

He, Jaylin Smith, had a lovely rap sheet a mile long. Only, that rap sheet was full of ‘pardons’ and dismissed cases that were paid for by his parents’ bank accounts.

The divorced parents of Jaylin Smith took turns paying for their son’s transgressions.

This time, it happened to be Jaylin Smith’s father, Haylin Smith, who paid the judge off.

Or tried to.

I wasn’t sure if it worked yet, but I would be finding out really soon whether he was released from the hospital to go home, or he was released from the hospital to go to jail.

Though, he was staying where he was at for at least a few more days, so I had time to hear from the lawyer before I made that move.

“That look in your eye.” Easton stared at me. “Why do I have a feeling that you’re about to make me do something to prove myself?”

I shrugged. “How easy can you get into a hospital, funded by a set of parents, who have a son in said hospital? Parents that have their son housed in a wing of the hospital that’s usually reserved for dignitaries and high-yield people?”

Easton paused. “I don’t have my FBI badge to flash around anymore, so I’d have to use my charm… which I don’t really have. I’m kind of awkward. Being big as well as attractive,” he gestured to himself. “Being smooth and able to talk myself in anywhere doesn’t run hand in hand for me.”

My lips quirked. “Let me guess, you try to let the pretty face do all the talking, so you won’t have to open your mouth and ruin it?”

Easton winced. “I was beaten up a lot as a kid. I had a late growth spurt. I can’t tell you how many times my brother had to save me from a situation I found myself in time after time… let’s just say, I haven’t ever grown out of ‘that’. I just hide that Easton well.”

I gestured toward the door. “Come on. I have to introduce you to my brothers. They get final say. But first, we have a stop to make.”

Together, we walked out of my office in my shop, Easton more at my back than my side as we pushed through the door and headed for our bikes.

“I…” I stopped as I saw the familiar car in the driveway. “Give me a minute. I need to go see why she’s here.”

Easton frowned but walked toward his bike. “No worries. Who is she?’

“Daughter’s best friend,” I answered.

I walked toward Sophia’s car, half afraid of what she would say or do when I got there.

This morning had been… awkward.

Even more awkward was how I wanted her to come back and do it for a second time.