Wolf (Evil Dead MC 4)

“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.