WOLF: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Evil Dead MC Series Book 4) (28 page)

“He will this time.”

“I don’t want to play games, Cole.”

“This is not a game, darlin’. I’m bein’ straight up with you now. You need to know you’re worth it.
He
needs to know you’re worth it. And by God, he needs to prove it.”

Crystal looked down the hall in the direction of Wolf’s room. “Just
leave
him? I don’t think I can.”

Cole leaned into her, putting a palm on the wall next to her head and got right in her face. “This is not up for debate. You’re going. If Wolf’s half the man I know he is, as soon as he’s able to walk out of this hospital, he’s gonna be coming for you, and when he does he’s gonna haul your ass back to Cali.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

Cole straightened. “Then, sweetheart, you’ve got a man standing down that hall ready and willing to lay the world at your feet.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Wolf’s eyes opened and moved around taking in his surroundings. He was in a bed. In a hospital gown. An IV going into his arm. His eyes followed the line up to the bag hanging beside his bed. Some kind of monitors stood next to him. And then his eyes focused on the man sitting in the chair by the bed, flipping channels with the TV remote. Red Dog.

Wolf tried to move, and pain shot through him in a dozen places. He groaned. Christ that hurt. And then it all came flooding back. Taz and his knife. And Crystal.

Fuck. Was she okay? He tried to lift his arm.

“You dumb fuck, don’t try to move. You’ll tear your stitches,” Dog growled, looking over.

And then suddenly Cole was there, standing in his peripheral vision at the foot of the bed. “So, you let a DK get the drop on you?”

“Yeah. Where’s Crystal? Is she okay?” He tried to sit up in the bed, and grimaced against the searing pain in his gut and the lightheadedness that hit him.

“Take it easy, Brother. She’s fine,” Cole informed him.

“Who the fuck you think has been sitting next to your bed, you scary bastard?” Crash added as he came into view on the other side of the bed.

“Scary?” Wolf frowned, then reached up to gently touch the bandage on the side of his face, remembering. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You ain’t gonna be a pretty boy no more. You got an ugly mug like the rest of us now,” Red Dog teased coming to his feet.

Wolf’s mind circled back, a little jumbled from the pain meds. “She’s here?”

Crash and Red Dog exchanged a look with Cole, who explained, “She was. She had to leave. The traveling ‘O’Rourke’ show left town.”

“And she…she left with him?”

“Yeah, man. She left with him as soon as he showed up,” Dog confirmed.

Crash looked across the bed at Dog. “Well, why don’t you take Tiny Tim’s crutch and beat him over the head with it.”

“What? He
asked
.”

Wolf lay back and stared at the ceiling as feelings of desolation washed over him.

“Look, Wolf—” Crash started, but Wolf cut him off.

“You guys mind if I ask you to leave. I’m kind of tired and my head’s foggy.”

Crash and Red Dog again looked at Cole, who jerked his chin toward the door.

“You take care of yourself, Wolf. We’ll be back in the morning.” Crash patted Wolf’s leg.

“Take care, man,” Dog said. “By the way you lucked out with some hot nurses. I’d insist on a sponge bath first chance you get.”

Wolf nodded, his eyes still on the ceiling, but didn’t even crack a smile at Dog’s attempt at humor.

When Crash and Dog had left, Cole moved to the side of the bed, his hands resting on the metal side rail. “Before the law comes in for your statement, let’s get your story straight.”

Wolf nodded.

“Mack told ‘em it was a botched robbery attempt. One guy in a ski mask.”

“One guy. Gee, thanks for making me look like a pussy.”

“Caught you unaware as you were taking a piss.”

“How dignified.”

“You fought over the knife.”

“Where’d this fairytale supposedly take place?”

“An alley behind that saloon on Main Street, round the corner from that tee shirt place.”

“Wouldn’t that leave a blood trail?”

“Crash used his tee shirt to staunch the flow of your blood. We dumped it and the knife in the alley. It’s all good. Just don’t change the story.”

Wolf nodded, wincing as another wave of pain took him.

Cole’s voice softened with regret. “This was all because of me, Wolf. Because of that beating I gave Taz in Reno.”

Wolf looked over at him, taking in his tormented face, then back at the ceiling. “Don’t beat yourself up about it, Cole. Taz was a sociopath.”

Cole shook his head. “This was a message meant for me. He said as much.”

Wolf frowned, and looked back at Cole. “I may be a little fuzzy, but I
do
remember shooting the motherfucker. When the hell did you talk to him?”

“We went back after we loaded you off to the hospital. Crystal showed us where the campsite was, only he wasn’t there.”

“What the fuck do you mean he wasn’t there?”

“He’d crawled off into the woods. Wasn’t hard to find, just followed the blood trail.” Cole attempted a grin. “Much better than breadcrumbs.”

“And?”

“And before I emptied my clip into him, he told me it was all payback for Reno.
Apparently
, I’d fucked up his face.”

That got a slight chuckle out of Wolf, which made him grimace in pain, his eyes closing. “Fuck that hurts. Don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry.”

“So, you saw the camp?”

“Yeah.” Cole swallowed. “He was a sick motherfucker.”

Wolf nodded. “It was a sick feeling, Cole. Being strung up in that tree, just hanging there like his personal piñata.” He paused and looked over at his VP. “We’ve faced a lot of shit, haven’t we?”

Cole nodded solemnly.

“But, Christ, Cole. I think that was the closest I ever came to checking out. I didn’t think I was getting outta there alive.”

He saw a muscle in Cole’s jaw clench and knew this was an uncomfortable subject. Facing one’s mortality wasn’t easy for any man. Thinking you were the cause of another’s near death was possibly worse. Wolf cleared his throat and caught Cole’s attention. “Hey.”

Cole’s eyes, which had been staring at the bed, returned to him.

“It was Crystal that got us out of there. If it wasn’t for her, I’d be dead.”

“That’s not the way she tells it.”

Wolf frowned. “What do you mean?”

“She said you were the one that talked her through it. Got her to calm down enough to deal with it. Told her what to do.”

Wolf looked at the ceiling, thinking about everything Crystal had done, everything she had endured to get them free. “I wanted her to go, save herself. But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t leave me.”

“You know she was never going to leave you.”

Wolf looked over at him. “But she’s gone now.”
When I need her most
. Wolf left that part unspoken, but knowing Cole, he heard the silent words loud and clear.

Never one to hold back, Cole let him have it. “Yeah, she is. And whose fault is that?”

“Mine, I’m guessing.”

“What goes around, comes around, Brother. I shouldn’t need to tell you that.”

“Well, I did take a blow to the head, so maybe I’m a little slow.”

“You’ve never been slow, Wolf. Don’t play fucking games with me.”

Wolf frowned suddenly. “What day is it? How long have I been here?”

“It’s Monday.”

“You heading back?” Wolf knew they should have been gone yesterday.

“I’m not going anywhere until you’re released.”

“When’s that supposed to be?”

“No fucking clue. You tell me.”

“Ha ha.” Wolf closed his eyes, fatigue getting to him.

“Okay. How about a topic that’s not funny? You know about Crystal’s wrists?”

That got his eyes open. They darted to Cole’s, and he swallowed. “I found out in Vegas.”

Cole nodded, letting it drop. But then he twisted the knife. “I think Jameson has feelings for her.”

“Oh, you two on a first named basis now?” Wolf grimaced against a wave of pain. Christ, he needed another shot of whatever the hell they’d been injecting into his IV.

“He’d give her a good life, Wolf.”

“Shit, Cole.” Wolf paused to lick his lips. He felt like he had a mouthful of cotton. “Kick a man when he’s down, why don’t you?”

“Just sayin’. Once you heal up and are out of that bed, you need to pull your head out of your ass and figure out what the fuck you want. If it’s Crystal, you better make your move before it’s too late. If it’s not, then you need to fucking let her go once and for all. Don’t fuck up any chance at happiness she has. It’s cruel to jerk her around like this. She deserves a hell of a lot better.”

Wolf stubbornly stared at the ceiling again. “She does. The kind of life Jameson can give her apparently.”

“What she deserves is to be loved. She deserves a man who’s got the guts to give her that. She doesn’t give a crap about some fancy life. And if you haven’t figured that out about her, you’re dumber than I thought.”

With that, Cole turned and stalked out. Wolf watched him go and felt the knife twist in his heart. Everything he said was the truth. All of it. Now he just needed to figure out just how brave he was. Brave enough to go after her or brave enough to live the rest of his life without her?

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Wolf pulled up in front of the address and backed his bike in next to the line of four bikes parked with their back tires against the curb. He set the kickstand down and threw his leg over the bike as he stood, his eyes taking in the building.
Brothers Ink
. Jameson O’Rourke’s place. It was two stories high, and he could see the man himself standing at a second floor plate glass window, looking down at him. Jameson lifted his chin to him, and Wolf returned the gesture, then headed inside.

The place was impressive. Sleek and modern. A reception counter stood across the entrance, tattoo stations lined behind it. No one stood at the counter. Wolf glanced around, but didn’t see Crystal anywhere. One of the tattoo artists, who’d been busy sketching out a design, stood and approached the counter. He looked vaguely familiar from the shop in Sturgis. He was stocky, with a bald head, a thick beard and ten gauge onyx plugs in his ears.

“Can I help you?” the man rested his palms on the counter, his arms covered in ink.

“Is Crystal here?”

“Not at the moment.”

“How about Jameson?”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Wolf took in the empty shop, and a grin pulled at his mouth. He shook his head as the man’s eyes slid over his leather Evil Dead cut. “I think he’s got time. Tell him Wolf wants to see him.”

The man, who obviously was used to dealing with bikers, nodded once, then jerked his chin toward the seating area. “Take a seat. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

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 craft 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.”