WOLF: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Evil Dead MC Series Book 4)

by Nicole James

  “Maybe it’s a boy.”

  He shook his head, smiling up at her with a cocky grin. “Naw. It’s a girl. My own little princess.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The San Jose Chapter of the Evil Dead MC rolled down Main Street in Sturgis. They had arrived in town early, before it got too crowded. You could actually still find places to park this early, and there weren’t so many bikes rolling down the street that they had to crawl like rush hour traffic. That being said, there was still a line of bikes parked on the street. They found a spot large enough to accommodate all their bikes, and one after another backed into a spot in a move so smooth it could have been choreographed.

  Wolf dropped his kickstand. Mack, Cole, Crash and Red Dog were on his right. Green, Cajun and their two prospects, Jake and Shane were on his left. They all dismounted and moved to stand up on the curb behind their bikes.

  Cole paused to light a smoke.

  A woman strolled down the opposite side of the street, her sexy body revealed in a pair of low-cut jeans, a pair of black chaps and a matching black leather bikini top complete with fringe. Wolf caught Shane’s eyes on her. Not about to miss one of his last chances to torment the prospect before he got patched in tomorrow, Wolf looked over at him and asked, “You know how a woman like that likes to be fucked, Prospect?”

  Shane’s eyes moved from the girl to Wolf.

  In a flash, Wolf moved in, grabbed Shane by the hair and shoved him face-first down over his bike. “You bend her over, pull her hair,” Wolf paused to yank Shane’s head back, then bent close to his ear, “whisper dirty things in her ear, and fuck her like you mean it.” Wolf began thrusting his hips into Shane’s ass as his brothers began howling with laughter watching his antics.

  Red Dog jumped in on the action. Mimicking a high-pitched female voice, he taunted, “Ooww, Shane, don’t stop. It feels so good. Harder, Shane, harder.”

  Cole finally saved Shane from his torment by pulling a five dollar bill from his hip pocket. “Here, Prospect. I want a shot waiting on me when I get inside.”

  Wolf let the man up and shoved him toward Cole.

  Shane took the bill and looked down at it, protesting, “Five bucks doesn’t go very far in this town, VP.”

  Cole raised his brow. “Neither does a prospect with two broken legs.”

  Shane shoved the bill in his hip pocket and moved inside amidst more laughter.

  Crash lifted his chin toward a bike moving up the other side of the street, drawing everyone’s attention. “Check out the chick riding the bobtail chopper.”

  The guys all turned to check her out. Wolf’s eyes swept over the bike, and then moved up to the girl. As he stared at her face as she moved past, realization dawned that he recognized those features, that hair, and that goddamned body.

  Holy shit.

  There was suddenly a disconnection between his brain and his mouth, because he couldn’t manage to say a word. And there was only one thought running through his head. Jesus Christ. What the fuck was she doing here?

  But leave it to Green to fill in the silence.

  “Wait a minute, was that…Crystal?”

  “She riding with those guys?” Mack frowned.

  Wolf’s gaze quickly snapped to the four men riding with her. The first thing he noticed was that they weren’t wearing patches and were obviously not with any club. The second thing he noticed was that they were all young and good looking.

  “Fuck, that’s Jameson O’Rourke,” Red Dog observed.

  “No shit.” Green made a move like he was about to whistle and wave to her. Wolf grabbed his forearm in a tight fist, stopping him.

  “You know about this?” Crash moved in to ask Wolf.

  He shook his head although he wasn’t exactly sure which part of this he was referring to. The part where Crystal could now ride a fucking bike, the part where she was riding that bike down fucking Main Street at Sturgis, the part where she’d ridden down that street with four other men, or the part where she was with a famous tattoo artist.

  “Didn’t you say she told you in Vegas she was working at a shop?” Cole asked, his eyes following the bikes as they rolled further away.

  “Yeah. She told me she worked the front desk for a tattoo shop, but I didn’t know it was his.”

  “Pretty cool,” Green grinned. “Maybe we can go get his autograph.”

  Wolf glared at him. “Maybe we can stay the fuck away.”

  Green’s gaze sliced to Cole, and then back to Wolf. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”

  “This gonna be a problem?” Cole asked, his eyes drilling into Wolf’s.

  “There’s gonna be half a million bikers here later this week. Probably never run into her again,” Wolf replied.

  Cole eyed him like he didn’t buy a word of it. “Yeah, and you know exactly where to find her. His shop.”

  Crash looked between Cole and Wolf, and Wolf was sure Crash remembered everything he’d told him that night he’d ridden over to Crash’s loft and laid into Shannon. The night when he’d told Crash he was letting Crystal go.

  “He’ll be fine,” Crash assured Cole, his eyes on Wolf. Then he put his hand on Wolf’s shoulder and gave it a little shake. “Won’t you Wolf?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  They all moved toward the bar, but Wolf couldn’t help glancing down the street one last time in the direction Crystal had gone. Two thoughts kept repeating over and over in his head like a chant. The first was that she was riding. Crystal was fucking riding. And she looked hot as hell on that bike. The second thought had his heart racing. She was here. In Sturgis. She was here! Holy fuck.

  ****

  Crystal tossed her pack on the faded chenille bedspread of the wrought iron double bed. The guys were letting her have the one bedroom apartment above the storefront shop all to herself while they all crashed in the huge tour bus parked in the alley out back.

  She moved to the window overlooking Main Street and pulled the curtain back. She had a perfect view of all the action. She could almost imagine how loud it was going to be. The rumble of bikes moving up and down the street would be keeping her up all night, she was sure.

  A small smile pulled at her mouth. But, even so, holy hell, it would be exciting to be here. She’d never been to anything like this. Sure, she’d ridden with Wolf. Many times. But never on club business, never on a run, and never to a rally.

  She bite her lip as thoughts of him filled her head, and she wondered if he’d be here. Wondered if the club was here. And if they were, if she’d ever run into any of them.

  Dropping the curtain, she turned back to her pack, and began pulling out her clothing to hang in the small closet. Mostly they were just tanks or tiny spaghetti-strap tops, so they didn’t take up much room. Then she pulled out the flannel shirt she had buried at the bottom. The one that belonged to Wolf. The one she’d driven off with that morning when they’d last seen each other.

  She lifted it to her face, inhaling deeply. It barely carried his scent any longer, but she liked to imagine she could still breathe him in. She couldn’t count the number of nights she’d curl up in bed with his shirt wrapped around her, missing him terribly and wondering if she’d made a huge mistake that day when she told him to let her go.

  The sound of the back door opening drew her attention.

  “Crystal, you in here?”

  She glanced through the open bedroom door to see Max poking his head around the door. “I’m right here.”

  His eyes moved to her. “We need your help setting up downstairs. We’ve got a shit-ton to get done before we open tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  He backed out and closed the door.

  Hanging the flannel shirt carefully on the bed post, she quickly unpacked the rest of her things and hurried downstairs to get to work.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Evil Dead MC’s Sturgis campground was located on forty-four acres the club owned half way between Sturgis and Deadwood. The club
had purchased the property back in the eighties. It was private, secluded and most importantly away from the crowds and law enforcement.

  Toward the back of the property there was a large steel building the club had had put up about ten years ago. It was a huge open space, not much more than a place to get out of the weather when it rained. Most of the time, the members crashed out under the stars with just sleeping bags.

  As dusk fell, they had a fire going in a large open space on some cleared high ground. Wolf stood with Crash, Cole and Mack about fifty feet away from it. The Birmingham, Gulf Coast, and New Orleans Chapters had all just rolled in, having ridden up together. The men watched as the new arrivals parked their bikes in the gravel lot beside the big shed.

  Ambling over, Butcher, the Birmingham Chapter President, greeted Mack with a hand clasp, pulling him in for a chest-bump and back-slap. His VP, Shades joined them as well.

  The men of Chapters from opposite sides of the country greeted each other with back-pounding hugs and great enthusiasm, truly happy to see each other. The times they were able to meet-up being few and far between.

  “How was the trip?” Mack asked.

  “Long. Fourteen hundred goddamn miles.”

  Cole grinned. “Same for us, Brother. It’s fourteen hundred miles from San Jose, as well.”

  “So you feel my pain?” Butcher grinned at him.

  “Damn straight,” Cole agreed.

  “You ready for a beer?” Mack asked.

  “Hell, yeah,” both Butcher and Shades replied at once.

  The men all chuckled.

  Cole let out an earsplitting whistle. “Hey, Prospect, bring a couple bottles of beer.”

  Wolf twisted to look as one of their prospects, Jake, ran to obey.

  Butcher eyed the prospect’s retreating back as the man moved to do his VP’s bidding. “So, how many prospects are you patching in this trip?”

  Mack’s eyes followed Butcher’s. “Two. Jake and Shane. And you?”

  “One. 12gauge.” Butcher lifted his chin toward a prospect over near their bikes.

  Mack nodded.

  “Maybe next year we’ll have more. Right, Shades?” Butcher asked, turning to his VP.

  Shades nodded. “Gulf Coast is prospecting three. Everything goes well, they should be patching in by the next Sturgis meet.”

  Mack nodded again. “Good to know. Heard about your trouble down there.”

  “We handled it.” Shades met his eyes.”

  Mack grinned. “I heard that, too.”

  “Made for a good story. Ax, and all,” Cole elaborated, folding his arms and grinning.

  Shades grinned back with a shrug. “Hey, nothing better than threatening to chop a man up to put the fear of God in him. A man gets real cooperative when you start discussing how to dispose of his body parts.”

  Crash gave Shades a sly look. “Yeah, how’d that go again? ‘They won’t fit in the trunk.’ ‘Not like this they won’t.’ Then you pull an ax from behind your back. I bet they shit their pants.”

  “I have expert motivational skills. What can I say?” Shades replied with splayed hands.

  “That you do,” Butcher agreed as the men all chuckled. Then he added in a more serious tone, looking at Mack, “Heard you’ve had some trouble in Cali.”

  Mack nodded. “That we have.”

  “You know who it is?”

  “Got several possibilities. We’re still looking into it.”

  Butcher nodded. “You need any help, you let me know.”

  Mack nodded. “Will do.”

  After chatting with members of the other Chapters for a while, Wolf moved to sit by the fire next to Red Dog. He lowered himself to the ground, leaning back against the log that Dog was using as a backrest.

  “How’s it goin’, Dog?” he asked.

  Red Dog had a stick in his hand. He pulled a toasted marshmallow from the end of it, and then smashed it between two graham crackers and some chocolate. “Just peachy.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Wolf asked with a frown.

  “Makin’ s’mores. Want one?” Dog offered the stick to Wolf, who shook his head.

  “What are you, twelve?”

  “S’mores are fucking fantastic. Don’t gotta be twelve to enjoy one.”

  Wolf’s eyes dropped to the bag of marshmallows at Dog’s side. “Is that what you had in that bag from the quick-rip mini-mart earlier?”

  Dog grinned. “Maybe.”

  Green leaned back against another log, took a long toke off a joint and stared up at the night sky. “Look at all those stars, man. They make you feel so insignificant.” Then in classic Green fashion, he switched topics out of the blue. “When I die, I want one of you to go to my funeral dressed like the grim reaper. Don’t say anything, just stand there.”

  Wolf looked over at Dog. “Is he high?”

  “Yup.” Then Red Dog popped another bite of s’more in his mouth, licked his fingers, and replied, “Everyone at my funeral gets a stun-gun. The last one standing gets all my stuff.”

  Wolf chuckled, taking a hit off his long-neck bottle of beer.

  Crash and Cole ambled over and sat down on the end of the log.

  “Got an announcement to make, boys,” Crash proclaimed.

  All eyes turned toward him.

  “Shannon’s and I are gonna have a baby.”

  Cole slugged him in the arm with a big grin, just as surprised as the rest of them apparently. “Congratulations, Brother.”

  Green sat up and passed him a bottle of Jack. “You knocked up your ol’ lady? Good job, bro.”

  Crash accepted the bottle and took a slug of the whiskey with a sheepish grin as the rest of the men toasted with shots of whiskey and ribald comments about his prowess as a man.

  Green sat back, crossed his legs at the ankle and admitted, “So far, my only accomplishment in life has been not having kids.”

  “Yeah, Green, and society is really grateful,” Red Dog replied toasting another marshmallow over the fire.

  Cole looked over at Crash. “Let me give you some advice on dealing with a pregnant woman.”

  “This should be good,” Wolf put in with a grin at Crash, taking a slug from the bottle of whiskey being passed around.

  “Unless you are physically dying, and I mean shot six times and about to pass out from blood loss, do not, I repeat, do not complain about any of your ailments. Any gripes you have about being tired or achy will not be met with sympathy, Brother.”

  The men all chuckled.

  Cole continued. “And keep your place stocked with lots of alcohol.”

  “Cole, she can’t drink,” Crash protested, giving him an arch look.

  Cole eyed him back with a sly grin. “No, but trust me, you’re gonna want to.”

  At that another burst of laughter from the men could be heard.

  “And when she gets to the third trimester, just resign yourself to letting her have control of everything. The TV remote, the car radio, the bank account—”

  “Your balls,” Red Dog added with a grin.

  “Shit,” Crash whispered worriedly and took another slug from the whiskey bottle Wolf passed back to him.

  Wolf grinned at the jokes along with all his brothers, but he couldn’t help it when all the talk of babies and pregnant women had his mind drifting to Crystal. He stared into the fire. He was happy for Crash, make no mistake, but the illustration of what Crash and Shannon had and their happiness was a sharp reminder of all that he and Crystal had lost. And perhaps, if he was being honest, it made him jealous of all that Crash had with Shannon. And all that Cole had with Angel, as well.

  And maybe for the first time, he was beginning to realize he wanted that too.

  And Crystal was here. So close. So fucking close. It had him wondering if maybe there was such a thing as fate. And maybe, just maybe, fate was giving him another shot.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The afternoon sun shone down on the campground. The full-patched broth
ers of all the attending Evil Dead MC Chapters were lined up in two rows, facing each other, gauntlet style. Typically, the Chapter Presidents stood at one end, their VPs at the other, along with the prospects currently about to be patched into the brotherhood.

  There was only one prospect left to run this year’s gauntlet.

  Mack stepped forward, a leather cut with a full three-piece patch on the back fisted in the hand at his side. At the other end, Cole put a hand on Shane’s shoulder and shoved him forward a step.

  Mack grinned and held up the last cut. “You want this, Prospect? Come and get it.”

  Wolf looked from his President to Shane, and his hand tightened into a fist. He fully intended to get his last swipes in at the man. Wolf watched as Shane’s eyes swept up one side and down the other of the gauntlet of men he was expected to run in order to get his cut. A cut Wolf knew only too well a man would do anything to get, especially after the year of hell the club had already put him through.

  Wolf had been were Shane was standing once. He knew the feeling Shane was experiencing at this moment. Wanting that cut so bad you’d do anything for it. Knowing that before you reached it, you were going to be receiving the beating of your life. Knowing that before it was done, you’d be crawling the last dozen feet. And not for a second letting any of that deter you from your determination to get your hands on that fucking cut. Wanting it so bad you could already feel it in your hands.

  He looked at Shane’s face. Yeah, he felt it. And he wanted it, badly.

  Wolf grinned. Come and get it, indeed, boy.

  Shane gritted his teeth and bolted forward. The brothers didn’t let him get ten feet before they were on him, every one of them throwing a punch. They tossed and shoved him back and forth between the lines like a pinball bouncing around a pinball machine. By the time Shane reached Wolf, who was standing fifteen feet from Mack, he was staggering.

  Red Dog, who stood across from Wolf, grabbed ahold of Shane and shoved him toward Wolf.