Wolf (Evil Dead MC 4)

Fuck. That gutted him. His eyes slid closed as the pain of losing her ripped through him. I need you. It was on the tip of his tongue. God, he didn’t want to let go. He never wanted to let go again. He opened his eyes and looked down at her. He wanted to keep holding her forever. But something in the way she looked up at him, pleading, had him loosening his grasp. He wasn’t good for her. He’d done nothing but bring her pain. It was selfish and cruel to think of how hurt he’d be when she left him again. He had to think about what was best for her.

He let her go, dropping his arms at his sides. They stared at each other.

“Are you sure this is what you want, Crystal?” he asked one final time.

His insides clenched as she nodded.

She brushed past him, moving back inside the motel room door. He followed, standing unsure in the doorway as she gathered up her things and stuffed them into her overnight bag. She flung her purse over her shoulder and reached to grab her bag off the bed, but he brushed her hand aside and picked up the bag for her.

Their eyes met.

“Wolf, I can carry it.”

“Don’t.” Wolf stopped her protest with a word. “I’ve got it.”

She turned and headed out the door. He followed her out to her car. She popped the trunk, and he hefted her bag inside, slamming it shut. She moved to stand uncertainly by the driver’s door and Wolf stepped up, taking her face in his hands, and his mouth came down on hers. Softly. Just a brush of lips. And then another. He stared down at her a long moment before pressing a kiss to her forehead, holding it a moment before releasing her and stepping back.

“You can always call me. For anything. You know that, right?” he asked, his voice coming out in a deep rumbling rasp as emotion engulfed him. His throat felt tight with it.

Her eyes glazed over and perhaps she suffered the same choking feeling because she could only manage a nod.

He stepped back as she turned, opened her door and climbed inside. A moment later, he was standing there watching her car pull out onto the highway, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.

Wolf stood there forlornly, until long after the dust settled back down on the road, thinking about everything she’d said.

As the dawn broke over the horizon and the faintest starlight faded away like any hopes he’d had of holding onto her this time, any hopes he’d ever had for the two of them, he turned toward his bike and the long ride back to a life that suddenly d

idn’t mean half as much as it had only hours ago.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Wolf sat at the end of the bar at Marty’s, a neighborhood joint the guys sometimes frequented. A man sitting halfway down on his left was repeatedly flicking open a silver zippo lighter, open, close, open, close. The sound grating on Wolf’s nerves until he was tempted to walk over there and slam the asshole face-first into the bar top.

Marty walked over and leaned his elbows on the bar, saving him from his felony.

“You doing okay, Wolf?”

Wolf’s eyes moved from the man to Marty. “Fine.”

Marty nodded to Wolf’s empty glass. “Can I get you another?”

Wolf nodded. Although he was quickly finding there wasn’t enough liquor in the world to fill the emptiness inside him. He’d been back two weeks now. Two weeks. Two long motherfucking weeks since he’d said goodbye to Crystal and watched her drive away, out of his life, for the second goddamned time.

Two weeks of having his brothers asking him what the fuck was wrong with him. Two weeks of sideways glances from brothers that meant well, but didn’t have a fucking clue to the extent of his hell.

Marty returned with his drink, and with one look at the murderous look on Wolf’s face, wisely retreated to service his other customers.

Wolf took a slug of his drink as the jukebox in the corner switched songs. It had a strange mix of current music mixed in with a bunch of oldies. Marty’s music was a little funky, like the man himself.

The mellow sounds of Tommy James and the Shondells’ Crystal Blue Persuasion drifted out.

Oh, fucking hell.

The song taunted him with memories of Crystal. Like he didn’t have enough of those, like he needed another fucking reminder of just how bad he’d fucked up. Now he had to sit here and listen to her name being sung to him in every chorus.

Screw this.

He slammed back the rest of his drink, slapped a twenty on the bar and headed outside. His bike was parked in the side lot, near the front door. He climbed on and fired it up, but then sat there a moment, considering his options. He could head south back toward the clubhouse, but something made him swivel his head towards the north.