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

by Nicole James

  Wolf just continued to stand, folding his own tattooed arms across his chest.

  The man grinned, but turned to get Jameson.

  As he stood waiting, Wolf’s eyes couldn’t help but travel around the room. It was a classy set up. Since there were no customers at the moment, he assumed the four bikes outside must belong to the O’Rourke brothers.

  Wolf didn’t have long to wait. The guy returned and waggled two fingers at Wolf, indicating he come around the counter. Then he pointed to the open staircase in the back.

  “Top of the stairs.”

  Wolf nodded and went up to find the entire top floor was an open-plan room, and all of it was Jameson’s office. Framed sketches of some of his art lined the walls. A large modern glass desk sat at the front of the building.

  Jameson was standing near the window. One arm lifted high, resting on the frame, the other held a rocks glass with about an inch of amber liquor in it. He downed it and looked over his shoulder.

  “I wondered when you’d show up.” He moved to sit in the chair behind the desk and nodded to one of the chairs in front of it. “Have a seat.”

  Wolf approached the desk. “I’ll stand.”

  Jameson reached for a bottle and a second glass, sliding it toward Wolf and holding the bottle poised in the air. “Come on. Let’s have a drink and discuss this like men.”

  Wolf ground his teeth together, but took a seat, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

  Jameson poured his drink and refilled his own. Lifting it, he toasted, “To Crystal.”

  Wolf wanted to throw the drink in his smug face, but found himself lifting the glass. “To Crystal.” After he downed the shot, he glanced around the room looking for photos or any trace of her existence in his life. “Where is she, by the way?”

  “First let’s talk about why you’re here.”

  “I think you know exactly why I’m fucking here.”

  The side of Jameson’s mouth pulled up. “I suppose I do. What I’m not sure of is your intent.”

  “My intent?”

  “What can you give her?”

  Wolf looked around at the fancy office, knowing he couldn’t compete with all this. But fuck if he was going to let that stop him. He stared down Jameson. “None of your fucking business.”

  “I’m making it my business.”

  Wolf let out a frustrated breath. Fuck, if convincing Crystal’s boss was what he had to do to get to her, then he’d do it. He’d do whatever it took. “What do you want to know?”

  “You’ve done nothing but cause her pain. What’s different now?”

  “I’m ready to give her what she wants.”

  “And you think you know what she wants?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “A white dress. A houseful of kids. And me. And I’m here to see that she gets it. All of it.” He leaned back. “You looked surprised, O’Rourke. She didn’t share those dreams with you?”

  “So you think you know what she wants, but what about what she needs? Do you know what that is?”

  “A man to hold her when she’s sad, pick her up when she’s down, and when she’s cryin’ to ask her ‘whose ass are we kicking today, baby’?”

  “That’s pretty funny, when you’re the one that’s always making her cry. You’ve been the biggest cause of her tears.”

  “Yeah, well those days are fucking over.”

  “Right.”

  “If she’s over me, there’s no reason for you to stop me from seeing her and talking to her, is there?”

  “She still loves you. I know that. But that doesn’t mean you can ever make her happy.”

  “Gonna damn well try.”

  Jameson stared at him, unmoving.

  Wolf’s brows rose, challenging. “You’re not gonna keep me from her. You and I both know that.”

  Jameson leaned back in his chair, one hand running over his chin, his eyes on Wolf’s face. “I was sorry to hear about what happened in Sturgis.”

  The change in topic threw Wolf for a moment, but he quickly recovered and bit out, “Yeah, I heard you came to the hospital.”

  Jameson nodded. “Crystal was a wreck.”

  “And that was my fault, right?”

  “Didn’t say that, but you do lead a dangerous life.”

  They stared each other down, and Wolf knew what he was thinking. “I can protect her, keep her safe.”

  “You both barely escaped with your lives.”

  “And the man who did it is dead.”

  “But he almost succeeded.”

  Wolf surged to his feet. He’d had enough. “Yeah. And I carry the scars to prove it, don’t I?” He yanked his shirt up, revealing the ugly scars across his chest and ribs where Taz had slashed him. Revealing the fact that the scar on his face wasn’t the only one he carried. He watched Jameson’s eyes drop to take them in. Not with horror, but almost with a doctor’s studied gaze…or maybe an artist’s.

  “I could help you with those.”

  Wolf let his shirt fall, the man’s response taking him aback. “What?”

  “I could cover those for you.” He shrugged. “If you want. Unless you like having that reminder on your skin.”

  Wolf pointed to his face. “I’ve got a reminder staring me back in the mirror every fucking day.”

  “That’s a thin white scar, buried halfway into your beard,” he said, almost dismissing it as if those facts somehow made it okay. “But the ones on your torso are much worse. The red raised scar tissue—”

  “I know what they look like. I don’t need you to describe them to me.”

  “So let me cover them. I do good work.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Wolf’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Why am I good?”

  “Why do you want to do this for me?”

  Jameson considered him a long moment as if he was trying to figure that out himself. Finally, he replied, “Let’s just say it’s a slow day and leave it at that.”

  Bullshit. This was about Crystal. He wanted to do this for Crystal. And suddenly he felt like it was just another hurdle he had to jump. And Wolf had already resolved himself to the fact that he’d jump every hurdle God put in front of him to get her back. So if this was just another one, if this was some sort of fucked up hazing or test or gauntlet Jameson was throwing down, so be it.

  “Fine. Let’s get started.”

  The corner of Jameson’s mouth pulled up. “I pick the designs.”

  “The scar on my ribs, I pick.”

  “All right. I’ll give you that one,” Jameson conceded. “You do know the ribs are one of the most painful areas to get worked on.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I lost sensation around the scar then, isn’t it?”

  ****

  A couple hours later, Wolf was still sitting in the chair as Jameson finished up the tattoo on his chest, having already completed the one on his ribs under his left arm. Jameson’s brothers, whom he’d introduced as Liam, Max and Rory, stood around them, their arms folded, their legs spread, watching their brother work.

  They’d closed the shop for this, which had surprised Wolf, but then, nothing about this bunch would surprise him anymore. They’d taken to him like a pack of brothers meeting their sister’s intended for the first time. Wolf wondered when the shotguns would come out.

  And where the hell was Crystal, anyway? She hadn’t made an appearance, and he’d been too stubborn to ask again after his first few times were rebuffed.

  He’d find her. When he was done with these damn tattoos, he’d find her if he had to hunt her ass down.

  He glanced down at the needle Jameson was wielding. He had to give the man credit. His work was phenomenal. The vibrant colors of the wolf’s head as it stared back were amazing, the detail unparalleled. He’d captured his spirit that was for sure. He’d been half afraid the man would give him a piece of shit just as payback, but the man was an artist and obviously took his cr
aft seriously.

  The design on his ribs was just as amazing.

  The buzzing clicked off as Jameson shut his machine down. “Finished.”

  His brothers stepped closer, examining the final product. They nodded their approval, but their eyes still bore into him coldly.

  “Scars are totally gone. You can’t even see them with the texture of the fur,” Max remarked.

  “I agree. You did wonders with the colorations, Jamie,” Liam added.

  Jameson snapped off the black sterile gloves, his eyes on Wolf. “I take it I don’t have to explain tattoo care to you.”

  Wolf rolled his eyes. “No. I think I’ve got it down.”

  Jameson spun Wolf’s chair around to face the mirror on the wall, giving him a better look at the finished product.

  He sat up and leaned forward, his eyes watching in the mirror as the four men took in his full back Evil Dead tattoo. His eyes returned to the wolf on his chest. It was fierce and proud, and he couldn’t have been happier with how it turned out. The men were right; the scars were completely obliterated by the design, as if they’d never been there.

  He heard a door open and close in the back of the shop, and then Crystal’s voice.

  “What’s going on, guys? I drove by and saw the closed sign, but the lights were all on. Aren’t we open tonight?” She came around the corner from a back hallway and stopped dead, taking in the scene.

  Wolf’s eyes connected with hers in the mirror, and he watched the stunned expression on her face. Then her eyes dropped to the design on his chest, and her mouth parted.

  Jameson’s brothers stepped back as she moved forward, almost as if her feet were moving her against her will, pulling her toward him.

  Wolf sat there, frozen, and then suddenly his feet were moving him unconsciously as well. He found himself standing, turning to face her.

  They stood staring at each other for what seemed like forever. And then Wolf suddenly came to his senses and realized she was probably waiting for him to say something. He’d rehearsed this moment on the long ride here, going over his words again and again. But now as he stood in front of her, his mind was a blank.

  “Crystal.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I just rode 1200 miles to see you, and that’s all you’ve got for me?”

  Her eyes moved uncomfortably to Jameson, and she licked her lips, frowning. “You came to get work done? Here?”

  “No. I came to see you.” His eyes moved to the men, who obviously weren’t going to give them any privacy, and then back to her. “Can we talk outside?”

  Her eyes again dropped to the wolf on his chest. “Don’t you need a bandage first?”

  Jameson was already reaching for one. He pressed a large gauze square over Wolf’s chest and taped it in place.

  Wolf noticed Crystal’s eyes taking in the bandage he already had taped under his armpit against his ribs, but she didn’t ask. He shrugged his flannel shirt back on, but didn’t button it up. Then he put his cut back on and followed her down the back hall.

  She stalked out the back door into the alley and stopped a few feet from the door. Wolf took in her rigid back. He looked up. Dusk had fallen, and a light rain had started up. She didn’t care. She stood in it, letting the tiny droplets form a sparkling net of crystals on her hair. Finally she turned to face him.

  “Why did you come?”

  “I told you why. You.”

  “Me?”

  He nodded.

  She folded her arms and looked down the alley. “You drove 1200 miles for nothing then. I’ve got a great guy in there. One who won’t hurt me.”

  “Then why are you standing out here in the rain with me?”

  She kept her eyes averted, her arms folded and her jaw tight. But he took solace in the fact that she didn’t have an answer for that one. It meant he still had a shot. At least he hoped he did, she was still standing here listening.

  But he could also see she was in full defensive mode, and he couldn’t really blame her. He’d hurt her too many times. Still, he couldn’t let that stop him. Not if any of this mattered. And it did matter. It mattered a hell of a lot. He’d come too far emotionally to give up now.

  She huffed out an impatient breath. “What do you want, Wolf?”

  “We’ll get to what I want in a minute. First, I need to know what you want.”

  “What I want?”

  “That future you had all planned out with the white picket fence and the four kids…”

  “Six.”

  “Four.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Were you serious about that?”

  She shrugged.

  “What if I told you I want that too?”

  “I’m not sure I’d believe you. I’d think you were just saying that because you feel guilty about what happened in Sturgis. But that’s no way to start a life together…based on you trying to make up for something. It has to be what you want.”

  “I do feel guilty about what happened in Sturgis. I probably always will, ‘til the day I die. But that’s not what this is about.”

  “What is this about then?”

  “I know what I want. And I know it took me a fuck of a long time to figure it out. But it’s you and all the rest of that dream of yours.”

  She shook her head, her eyes still staring down the alley, but he saw the emotion in them.

  “Crystal, look at me. Please.” She took her sweet time, but finally her eyes came to his. “I know what kind of life I lead. And I know that has never even been our biggest problem. I know the biggest obstacle has always been me. Pulling back. Guarding my heart. Pushing you away. I know I don’t make it easy for you. I know I’m hard to love. I know all that, Crystal, all of it, and yet I’m still standing here asking you for another shot.

  “I know you deserve better. I know that. Hell, I’ve probably crossed every line you’ve ever drawn in the sand, more than once. Hell, a dozen times. And yet by some fucking miracle of God you still do love me.”

  “Do I?”

  Wolf swallowed. Well, hell, he hadn’t expected her to make this easy, had he? “I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t believe in your love. I know you, Crystal. When you love, you love deep and strong, and I’m hoping forever. So here I am, standing here asking you to give me one more shot. One last shot, Crystal. I swear to God, I won’t let you down again.”

  “I’m supposed to just believe that? What’s different this time?”

  “I am,” he didn’t hesitate in answering.

  “You are? How?”

  “Because I finally pulled my head out of my ass. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “Go on.”

  Shit, she really wasn’t going to let him off easy. Hell, she’d have him down on his knees groveling in another minute. Fuck that. He still had some pride. In two steps he had her upper arms in his hands as he stood over her.

  “I love you, Crystal. I always have. Through all of it, that’s never waivered. And you’ve been the single stabilizing force in my life, the only true north on my fucked up compass. It’s why I always come back to you. You are home to me.”

  She looked up at him with glassy eyes and whispered, “It’s not the coming home part that’s so hard. It’s the leaving part I can’t take anymore.”

  “That’s done. I’m done running, Crystal. I’m done being so afraid of failing you that that was all I ever did. I was never afraid of committing to you. I was afraid of not living up to your expectations of me.”

  “All I wanted was your love.”

  “You have it, sweetheart. You have my heart. You are my heart.”

  “But will it last? Will you change your mind in a month and want out?”

  He pushed his unbuttoned shirt to the side and tore the bandage over, revealing her name scrawled across his ribs in scrolling cursive letters three-inches high.

  “I’m betting on forever.”

  Her eyes fell to the tattoo that Jameson had fi
nished earlier.

  “You’re over my heart. Right where you’ve always been, Crystal. I love you. I always have.”

  Her eyes locked with his. “Jameson put that there?”

  Wolf nodded.

  “He never tattoos names. Never.”

  “He made an exception for this one.”

  Her eyes dropped back down to the beautiful scrollwork.

  “You see a side of me no one else does, a side no one else ever will, a side no one understands but you. There will never be anyone else for me. No matter how long I live. Crystal, you’re the love of my life, and you always will be.”

  “Wolf.” Her voice was soft, trembling. “I’m afraid of being hurt again.”

  He took her face in his hands. “Baby, I know you are. And I want to promise you I’ll never hurt you again. But I’m a guy, and guys have a tendency to fuck-up. So, I’m not gonna promise you I won’t fuck-up. But I can promise you I will never walk out that door again. If you’ll have me, I’m in it for life.”

  He stared down at her, waiting. Jesus Christ, he didn’t know if he could bear it if she refused him now.

  Her hands closed on his wrists, and she pulled his hands away. “I can’t.”

  He took a step back. “Baby, I know I fucked up—” He broke off when she remained silent, shaking her head. He swallowed as dread filled him. “It’s done then? We’re finished? I’m too late?”

  He watched a tear roll down her cheek.

  “If you want me to leave, I will. And I won’t bother you again.” He paused. “For what it’s worth, Crystal, I’m sorry. For all of it.” He turned and stalked back inside, through the shop, past the questioning looks from the O’Rourke’s who glanced furtively toward the back door. He strode out the front door and down the steps to his bike.

  He stood there a moment, his breathing heavy, his heart pounding and a sick feeling clawing at his gut. Jesus Christ, it was over. He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t wrap his head around it. She was done with him. Really and truly done with him.

  He yanked on his gloves and strapped on his helmet, the whole time praying he’d hear the door behind him open, and her voice telling him to stop. But those sounds never came, so he threw his leg over his bike, lifted it up off its kickstand and fired it up. Then he roared off down the street.