Make Me Your Villain (Battle Crows MC 2)

Whatever her reasoning behind doing what she was doing, she was officially the worst roommate ever.

It might make me come off as heartless, kicking her out when she didn’t pay the rent.

But eight months ago, when this deal was struck, Lindy came up with the most ridiculous demands to allow me to ‘continue’ to be her roommate.

Early on, she knew the renter, and they’d switched the name on the lease—which had been in my name—into hers to try to kick me out. When I’d fought back and threatened to take the bitch to court, she’d allowed me to stay. But on a conditional basis.

At the time, I hadn’t much cared. Matters had hit the fan with other things in my life, and the last thing I really needed to worry about was Lindy and her demands.

Now, my life was a little more turned around, my business was booming, I had money in the bank to blow, and Lindy had shown me what a real bitch she could be.

Voices sounded from the other room, and I groaned.

All I wanted to do was go to bed.

All I would be able to do now was listen to Lindy have sex in the living room because she knew that it was ‘her’ room, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

I hastily changed my clothes, took a shower as fast as I could, and then got dressed again.

This time in clothes that weren’t grass-stained and smelled of gasoline.

Gathering my dirty clothes, I walked out into the living room, finding Lindy there with her new ‘man’ on the couch.

If you could count a man in jeans tighter than my sister wore a ‘man.’

He looked at me and his eyes widened.

“Don’t mind me,” I said to them both, watching the man’s hands still on the back of Lindy’s shoulder where it’d been headed south. “Just gonna do some laundry before I head to bed.”

My lips tipped up in a grin as I started to do my laundry, tossing Lindy’s into a hamper that was for sure to wrinkle her favorite tops despite the fact that I knew she’d hate it.

See, I didn’t do anything to Lindy that she didn’t to me, first.

But Lindy always took it a step farther.

When I had clothes in the washer and she wanted to use it, sometimes she’d stop my clothes in the middle of a freakin’ cycle just to take them out, put hers in, and forget about mine.

She’d leave mine in a sopping heap in the middle of the laundry room, fuckin’ water pouring out of it and into the damn walls.

Needless to say, no, I didn’t feel guilty anymore because of everything that she did so vindictively to me.

It wasn’t my fuckin’ fault I couldn’t finish all my clothes in the time she ‘allotted’ me during the day.

After getting my clothes started, I walked past her basket, into the living room, and started doing the dishes. The dishes that she’d purposely left in the sink because my peanut butter had gotten all over them.

Rolling my eyes, I finished those up, snatched a beer, then walked back into the living room while whistling.

Of course, I happened to be whistling Jaws.

The man who’d been kissing her earlier was now sitting beside her with his arm around her shoulder. Lindy was pressing her lips to his jaw, but the man’s eyes were all for me as he stared at me with worry.

“Good night,” I called out, heading to the bedroom.

At least, out of it all, I got the master.

Because when I got the master, she got the rest of the house that she wanted.

Whatever.

It only meant that when I got to my bedroom, I had a bathroom, massive walk-in closet, and a pretty big window that overlooked the road beyond.

It also meant that, when I climbed out the window two minutes later dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt, biker boots, and my Battle Crows MC cut, it was fairly easy to slip out.

But I paused and turned up the mood music before I left, mostly because I knew it’d piss her off and there wasn’t a single fucking thing she could do about it.

When the first croon of the guitar started playing, I giggled like a goddamn girl, then slammed my window closed.

The next ten minutes were spent rolling my bike down the driveway so she didn’t know I was gone and heading to the bar that was in the middle of Intercourse, Texas. The one place that I probably should’ve avoided tonight with my sour disposition.

Not because it was a bad place or anything, but because I just didn’t feel like talking to anyone.

And I knew, the moment I walked through that door with my cut on, people would come over.

It was just the name of the game when you were a Crow in Intercourse, Texas.