Never Trust the Living (Battle Crows MC Book 7) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Never Trust the Living

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Other titles by Lani Lynn Vale

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Nobody Cares Unless You’re Pretty

  Never Trust the Living

  By Lani Lynn Vale ™

  Text copyright © 2022 Lani Lynn Vale ™

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  There’s currently a carbon monoxide detector beeping downstairs, and I’ve considered getting up for the last 34 minutes. Someone tell me why my husband can’t hear it.

  Acknowledgments

  Golden Czermak—Photographer

  My Brother’s Editor & Ink It Out Editing—My editors

  Alyssa Garcia—Cover Artist & PA

  My mom—Thank you for reading this book eight million three hundred and seventy-two times.

  Kendra, Lisa, Laura, Penney, Brandi, Jen, Kathy, Mindy, Barbara & Amanda—I don’t know what I would do without y’all. Thank you, my lovely betas, for loving my books as much as I do.

  Other titles by Lani Lynn Vale

  The Freebirds

  Boomtown

  Highway Don’t Care

  Another One Bites the Dust

  Last Day of My Life

  Texas Tornado

  I Don’t Dance

  The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC

  Lights To My Siren

  Halligan To My Axe

  Kevlar To My Vest

  Keys To My Cuffs

  Life To My Flight

  Charge To My Line

  Counter To My Intelligence

  Right To My Wrong

  Code 11- KPD SWAT

  Center Mass

  Double Tap

  Bang Switch

  Execution Style

  Charlie Foxtrot

  Kill Shot

  Coup De Grace

  The Uncertain Saints

  Whiskey Neat

  Jack & Coke

  Vodka On The Rocks

  Bad Apple

  Dirty Mother

  Rusty Nail

  The Kilgore Fire Series

  Shock Advised

  Flash Point

  Oxygen Deprived

  Controlled Burn

  Put Out

  I Like Big Dragons Series

  I Like Big Dragons and I Cannot Lie

  Dragons Need Love, Too

  Oh, My Dragon

  The Dixie Warden Rejects

  Beard Mode

  Fear the Beard

  Son of a Beard

  I’m Only Here for the Beard

  The Beard Made Me Do It

  Beard Up

  For the Love of Beard

  Law & Beard

  There’s No Crying in Baseball

  Pitch Please

  Quit Your Pitchin’

  Listen, Pitch

  The Hail Raisers

  Hail No

  Go to Hail

  Burn in Hail

  What the Hail

  The Hail You Say

  Hail Mary

  The Simple Man Series

  Kinda Don’t Care

  Maybe Don’t Wanna

  Get You Some

  Ain’t Doin’ It

  Too Bad So Sad

  Bear Bottom Guardians MC

  Mess Me Up

  Talkin’ Trash

  How About No

  My Bad

  One Chance, Fancy

  It Happens

  Keep It Classy

  Snitches Get Stitches

  F-Bomb

  The Southern Gentleman Series

  Hissy Fit

  Lord Have Mercy

  KPD Motorcycle Patrol

  Hide Your Crazy

  It Wasn’t Me

  I’d Rather Not

  Make Me

  Sinners are Winners

  If You Say So

  SWAT 2.0

  Just Kidding

  Fries Before Guys

  Maybe Swearing Will Help

  Ask Me If I Care

  May Contain Wine

  Joke’s on You

  Join the Club

  Any Day Now

  Say it Ain’t So

  Officially Over It

  Nobody Knows

  Depends Who’s Asking

  Valentine Boys

  Herd That

  Crazy Heifer

  Chute Yeah

  Get Bucked

  Souls Chapel Revenants

  Repeat Offender

  Conjugal Visits

  Jailbait

  Doin’ A Dime

  Kitty, Kitty

  Gen Pop

  Inmate of the Month

  Madd CrossFit Series

  No Rep

  Jerk It

  Chalk Dirty to Me

  Battle Crows MC

  Always Someone’s Monster

  Make Me Your Villain

  Rattle Some Cages

  Not A Role Model

  Get Tragic

  Strange & Unusual

  Never Trust The Living

  Blurb

  It’s not every day that someone tries to pin a murder on you and a random girl you just met. But Bram Crow isn’t your average, everyday guy, either.

  One second, he’s hiding evidence with the girl, and the next, he has to marry her so a police detective doesn’t get suspicious.

  Did he mention that he had a long-term girlfriend at the time?

  To say that things didn’t go as planned would be an understatement.

  To say that falling in love with his wife, definitely wasn’t part of the plan, either.

  Nor was her leaving me when I finally realized she was my world.

  PROLOGUE

  Are girls called ‘chicks’ because they produce eggs, or love cocks?

  -Dory’s secret thoughts

  DORY

  Eight years old

  The dirt was making me itch.

  I could see a fine sheen of it on my hands, and I knew that I needed a shower three days ago.

  Yet, I’d still been sent to school, with not only dirty hands but dirty clothes.

  I was embarrassed.

  I’d been embarrassed for a year now, since I realized how much different I was from other people.

  As in, how I always came into class dirty, with my hair in the same mes
sed up ponytail I managed to get it in myself, while the other girls came in in pretty dresses, beautifully done hair, and sometimes even makeup.

  “She can’t get lice because she doesn’t ever take a shower,” I heard one of the kids say. “At least, that’s what my mommy says. That lice don’t like dirty hair. That’s why I only wash my hair three times a week, instead of every day like my daddy. Do you think she knows that her hair is ugly?”

  I knew that my hair was ugly.

  I knew that my clothes were dirty.

  I knew that I lived in the slum of slums trailer park.

  I knew that my mother didn’t work or clean up around the house. I knew that my daddy did work, but he was even less clean than I was.

  I also knew that our water had been turned off so many times that at this point, it was more of a surprise to find the water working than not.

  “Her brother’s never dirty.”

  That was from another little girl.

  And the mention of my brother sent shivers of fear through me.

  “I hear that their mommy and daddy are being investigated by CPS,” another whispered, obviously unaware that I could hear everything that they said. “But my mommy said that she was going to get moved to a foster home. They were trying to find someone to take both her and her brother.”

  That was news to me.

  “Girls,” my teacher, Mrs. Martin, snapped. “This will be the last time that I’ll tell you to stop whispering to each other, or I’ll be sending you to the principal’s office. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Martin,” all three girls said in unison.

  Then they glared at me as if I was the one to get them in trouble for talking.

  Which couldn’t be further from the truth.

  I didn’t talk to anyone. I didn’t make eye contact. I for sure didn’t tattle.

  Because tattling was the first thing that would get me backhanded by my father or my mother.

  And if anyone had anything to tattletale about, it would be me.

  The bell rang, and I couldn’t get out of the class fast enough.

  Technically, I was supposed to wait for my teacher to dismiss us, but I never did.

  And she never got mad that I didn’t wait.

  Secretly, she felt bad for me.

  All of my clothes, the clean ones anyway, were from her.

  I knew that she felt bad about my situation, and I had a feeling she was the reason that CPS was called.

  It really was news to me that we might get taken away, though.

  I almost made it to the back entrance that would lead to the back of the school, which would then lead me all the way home, when an arm encircled my neck.

  I cringed when I heard my brother’s voice say, “You’re not riding the bus today, dork?”

  I swallowed hard, feeling the bile rise in my throat.

  “N-no,” I stuttered. “I was going to walk.”

  My brother’s arm tightened. “You need to shower.”

  I needed to shower.

  There was a creek on the way home that I sometimes bathed in, but it’d been so cold lately that I didn’t do it as often as I probably should.

  “Y-yes,” I continued to stutter.

  The arm tightened so tight that I felt my neck crack.

  “I have a surprise for you when you get home.” He sounded gleeful. “I left it by your bed.”

  I didn’t want to see the surprise.

  But I knew I would.

  And I was right.

  Two long miles, a cold wash in the creek, and a walk back home in my wet clothes later, I found his ‘present.’

  It was our cat.

  One that’d been dead for a year now because I’d witnessed him murder it.

  It was lying on the foot of my bed.

  My cat’s eyes were withered, and his hair was falling out in patches. There was a sick sort of liquid on his body, and the smell was horrific.

  I closed my eyes and nearly cried.

  I’d have to take him out in the one and only blanket that I had.

  And this time, bury him somewhere where my brother couldn’t find him.

  “I’m sorry, friend,” I whispered as I walked out of the room to hear my brother’s manic laughter. “I’m so sorry he did this to you.”

  And that was the story of how I became dirty again.

  • • •

  Eleven years old

  We were being moved again.

  This time because Amon, my brother, had decided that it would be a great idea to try to sneak into our foster sister’s room and try to scare her.

  By scaring her, he’d found pictures of her mother’s death, printed them out at school, and pasted them to the wall.

  They’d been photos of the dead body covered by a sheet that’d been in the newspaper.

  You couldn’t ‘see’ anything, but you could see something very specific in her hand, which was tattooed.

  Needless to say, our foster sister knew who it was, and we did, too.

  That had been flashed on every single news station in the lower states as they’d tried to find her serial killer.

  And my brother thought it would be a great idea to scare her by pasting those photos on her wall. Then, a few nights later, drawing the tattoo on her hand in permanent marker.

  Needless to say, after about two months of him torturing her, we were being moved.

  Not just him.

  We.

  Because they thought brothers and sisters needed to stay together.

  Well, let me admit something atrocious.

  If I never saw my brother again, it would be too soon.

  “Just you and me, eh, sis?” Amon asked cheerfully.

  I nearly threw up when he put his arm around my neck and started to squeeze.

  Then I was near passing out because he knew exactly where to restrict blood flow to my brain with his hold.

  But I didn’t dare say a word, because I knew tattling got me nowhere.

  Well, it did get me somewhere.

  In a world of hurt.

  • • •

  Fifteen years old

  I should’ve known that my birthday wouldn’t go well.

  I was fifteen years old, and I’d learned the truth years ago—nothing good ever happened to me.

  Nothing.

  I should’ve remembered that.

  Except, I’d had a dream that this day would be different.

  Now that we were separated, and he was no longer a child in the eyes of the law, I would be able to live a life again.

  I was wrong.

  Amon may not live with me, but he found a way to make his presence known.

  And, for shits and giggles, he made sure to always show me that he could reach me, no matter what.

  Like today.

  Today, I’d gone to school happy, clean, and for once, optimistic.

  I’d gotten home to find my foster parents had been murdered.

  When my bus dropped me off, the first thing to catch my eye was the yellow crime scene tape.

  Then it was the cops that were all mingling around in the front yard, looking upset.

  But even though I knew that I shouldn’t, I got off the bus anyway and walked up to them.

  “W-what happened?” I asked quietly.

  The first cop that got to me stilled me with a hand on my shoulder.

  Then he told me the news.

  My foster parents, the best that I’d ever had, had been murdered in their beds.

  And I knew.

  I knew.

  Closing my eyes, I whispered. “My brother…”

  The words stilled in my mouth as I looked up to find two men walking toward me.

  Both in suits and looking important.

  “Looks like you have a big brother that’s willing to take you in,” the man in the suit standing next to my brother said. “You don’t need a foster home.”

  I swallowed hard, knowing that, no matter what, this wouldn’t end
how I wanted it to end.

  I would be going to my brother’s.

  I would have to either agree or run away.

  And only one of those options was going to get me finished with school.

  “Umm.” I licked my lips, wondering why in the hell my brother was dressed like that. “Uhh…”

  “She’s in shock.” My brother’s eyes, a wild blue just like my own, looked at me with a soullessness that turned my blood cold. “I’ll get her home. Thank you for all the help, gentlemen.”

  And he did.

  To our old, broken-down trailer sans parents—since he’d killed them, too.

  “You almost had a brain fart there, didn’t you, sis?” Amon asked, looking amused, even though I knew that to be untrue. “Glad I got there when I did.”

  My brother didn’t have emotions.

  He was a true psychopath.

  Oh, he could fake them.

  He could fake a lot of things—like being sane, being a good brother, being rich—but he couldn’t hide the truth from me.

  Not any longer.

  “I didn’t say anything,” I whispered.

  And I didn’t.

  Because, if there was one thing that I knew, it was that the punishment for tattling was always bad.

  So, so bad.

  CHAPTER 1

  No matter how stupid you feel, remember that Little Red Riding Hood couldn’t flush out that a wolf was dressing in drag and acting like her grandmother.

  -Dory’s secret thoughts

  DORY

  “What’s the one way you’d never like to die?” Lulu asked. “Like mine? I’ve had a fear of log trucks. After watching Final Destination, I am terrified to drive past one because all I can see is the log’s chain breaking, and them falling on me.”

  “Suffocation,” I whispered, so desperately wanting to fit in, to be a normal nineteen-year-old. “I’m terrified that someone will hold me under the water and drown me.”

  Or smother me with a pillow.

  “What about you, Della?” Lulu asked. “What’s your worst fear?”

  “Worst fear? Or worst way to die?” Della asked curiously, sipping on her illegally bought alcoholic drink.

  “Either,” Lulu said.

  Della shrugged. “I’m terrified of being beaten up and raped while I’m running. I carry mace and a knife with me.”

  That was a horrific thought.

  But since I didn’t run, that had never occurred to me before.

  But, since Della was well on her way to being a superstar runner in track and field, I could see how that would be a scary situation for her.

  “I have a fear of losing my boyfriend,” the newest girl to our group, Mimi, said. “Like one day, I’m gonna wake up, and he’s going to be dead.”