Grime (Book 3): The Hangman’s Crows MC, #3

By Evelyn Glass

This is book 3 and the finale of the Hangman's Crows MC romance series! 

He's a dirty bastard, but he owns me.

Micah was my first lover…

And he's determined to be my last.

The bad boy is a filthy biker, an adrenaline junkie, a playboy who's slept with just about every girl in town.

Wrong for me in every way.

And yet, I can't resist him.

When he pins me against the wall and presses his rough lips to mine, I melt.

When he strips me and bends me however he wants, I come apart.

But this can never work. Our worlds are too different.

And when my ultra-conservative, religious parents find out who I've been spending time with, they go ballistic.

Now, I'm about to be shipped away from the man I love.

My family thinks they can destroy our love.

But they should've known:

Once Micah claimed me, he'd never, ever let me go.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBook Publishing World
• Release date: Dec 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393939269

Book preview

Grime: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Hangman’s Crows MC Book 3)

By Evelyn Glass

He’s a dirty bastard, but he owns me.

MICAH WAS MY FIRST lover...

And he’s determined to be my last.

The bad boy is a filthy biker, an adrenaline junkie, a playboy who’s slept with just about every girl in town.

Wrong for me in every way.

And yet, I can’t resist him.

When he pins me against the wall and presses his rough lips to mine, I melt.

When he strips me and bends me however he wants, I come apart.

But this can never work. Our worlds are too different.

And when my ultra-conservative, religious parents find out who I’ve been spending time with, they go ballistic.

Now, I’m about to be shipped away from the man I love.

My family thinks they can destroy our love.

But they should’ve known:

Once Micah claimed me, he’d never, ever let me go.

CHAPTER 1

Zoya had been summoned . Her parents rarely called her through the week, so when her cellphone rang the next Tuesday evening, she knew something had to be gravely wrong. Zoya answered with trepidation, and her father’s wavering voice sounded alarmed. Zoya, have you seen your brother?

Miad? No, I haven’t seen him. Her heart raced, and she sat up in bed, looking at the time. It was almost nine on a Tuesday night. It wasn’t that unusual for her older brother to be out at that hour. He’s probably just out with his friends, Baba. Is something wrong?

Musa sighed, turning to Taba and shaking his head regretfully. She hasn’t seen him.

Tell her to come home. I need to touch my children. I need to know everything is alright, Taba sobbed. She had a feeling. There was a churning in her gut, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Miad had been missing since Sunday night. She hadn’t heard from him in three days.

Musa pressed the phone to his ear and sighed wearily. Zoya, we need you to come.

Baba, what’s happened? Zoya asked, getting nervous. Had Miad made some snide comment about her that had put her parents on edge? She needed to know what was going on. It wasn’t like them to call in the middle of the night, much less request her presence.

I’ll explain when you get here. Just come. Musa hung up the phone. He had a heavy weight on his shoulders, being the head of household where his children respected their parents less and less. Miad was up to no good. He was sure of it. Musa was keeping his suspicions to himself until he had some proof though. No sense in stressing Taba, with her fragile health. Neither of the children were aware of how serious their mother’s heart condition had gotten.

Lie down, Taba. Stop pacing. Walking a hole into the carpet won’t bring him home any sooner.

It’s been three days, Musa. You tell me don’t worry. Don’t worry, Taba! How can I not? My only son! She dashed tears from her eyes, bowing her head and taking a seat on the side of the bed as her husband had instructed. I am sorry, my love. I mean you no disrespect.

Musa laboriously kneeled his heavy weight down on the floor beside her and looked up into his wife’s still quite lovely face. In all their years of marriage, he had been a generous husband, understanding and kind. But, in this, he needed to stand firm. I will not have you waste yourself with worry. You must rest. The boy is no longer a boy. Although he acts like an insolent child, he’s a grown man. What he does with his life is up to him now.

And, Zoya? she lamented. There is something up with our daughter, Musa. A mother knows.

Across town, Zoya left a note on the kitchen counter telling Callie where she was going and slipped out the door to run to the elevators. She willed it to move faster, a sense of urgency in her step as the doors finally eased open and let her out into the lobby. Zoya jogged through the doors and down the sidewalk to her car, unlocking the doors and climbing into the driver’s seat with a jangle of her keys and breathless sigh.

She drove quickly to her parents’ house. When she entered the place that had been her home prior to getting her apartment with Callie once she started graduate school, she sensed the change in the atmosphere of the house. It wasn’t something that could be touched or directly pinpointed, but there was a feeling in the still, empty living room that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. Something was wrong.

She closed and locked the front door behind her. She strolled through the archway into the hall. Baba? she called uncertainly.

Musa stepped out of his bedroom with a relieved expression. She’s here, Taba. Come, Zoya. Your mother is resting. She wants to see you.

At the expression on his face, the sad, weary eyes and tense frown lines at the corner of his mouth, Zoya threw down her purse and rushed up the hall to her parents’ bedroom, a room of the house she seldom had cause to enter. She saw her mother lying in bed, looking frail and worn, and her heart leapt in her throat. Maman! she said in alarm. What’s happened to you?

Shush, I’m fine, Taba smiled, easing up on her elbows and sitting up in the bed. Your brother has been missing since the weekend. I’m worried sick, but I’m fine. Taba waved Musa out of the room, and he left, albeit reluctantly. She had things to discuss with her daughter. She patted the bed, and Zoya tentatively stepped deeper inside.

The walls were painted a deep burgundy, and authentic Persian rugs covered the floor in various patterns and rich hues; each rug overlapped the other haphazardly. Upon the rugs rested a hand-carved, skillfully built four-poster bed with delicately painted panels stenciled with a Tree of Life motif. Taupe bedding patterned with dark red roses covered the mattress. She stepped past an intricately designed dresser with mother of pearl inlay topped with ceramics and a vase of silk flowers. A wand of incense burned aromatically from a Qajar incense burner filigreed with peacocks and parrots.

Zoya sat on the edge of the plush, comfortable mattress and put her hand on Taba’s slippered feet. It was time she told her mother what she knew of Miad’s recent descent into debauchery. The thought of him missing for several days sent fear through her. He could be hurt. There was no telling what had happened to him, roaming drunkenly around the city at nights.

Maman, I didn’t want to tell you this because I didn’t want you to get upset...Miad has been drinking again, only it’s much worse than before. I’ve seen him around town, drunk and picking fights. She held up her hands as Taba sat forward, shocked by what she was hearing. Now, don’t let your imagination get away with you. He’s probably just spent the last few days with his friends. I’ll call around and see if I can locate him for you, but I needed to tell you in confidence about his alcoholism. I don’t know what else to do. Perhaps with your help we can convince him to go to the rehab center I told him about.

Zoya, Taba said her name sharply. What places have you been frequenting that you might stumble into your brother in such a state anyway? It’s true, isn’t it? You’ve been living like the loose women you go to school with.

What?