When Zoe Parish clapped eyes on Wolf Connor for the first time in more than six years, her immediate thought was, Goddamn. That man must have made a deal with the devil, because nobody can look that fucking good without divine – or more probably – dastardly intervention.
He was still tall, of course, still strapping and muscular. His face was hard and handsome, and damned if the lines around his eyes and mouth didn’t look good on him. Speaking of which, his steel-gray eyes were still as scary-as-hell, his mouth the same almost-cruel line that was somehow sexual and sensual, and made women think of it caressing and probing their lips. Both sets.
When he saw her walk into Blue Dragon Ink, he jumped to his feet. Now that startled her. She’d known he was eager as hell to get her here, but that actual leap out of his chair showed her just how badly he needed her. And Wolf wasn’t a man who needed much beyond the club – he never had.
“Zee,” he said, and she noticed how her whole body reacted to him saying her name. Yeah, his voice was the same, too: deep and husky and all sexy-dark. It’s how drinking whiskey naked on a sultry summer night would sound if it could develop the ability to speak. “You’re here.”
“I am.” Zoe set her backpack on the floor next to the front counter, and watched as two-hundred-plus pounds of hot, hard man strode across the floor to her. “I made good time.”
He opened those massive arms and she just stepped on in, let him pull her up and close. Yeah, his chest was as impressive as ever, and she smiled up at him. Holy hell, she’d missed him.
“Lookin’ good, baby girl,” he said, that mouth curled up in a devastating grin as he growled out his pet name for her. “I like the longer hair.”
“Yeah?” She pushed it back and off her face and shoulders. “I was thinking about cutting it. Fucking hassle.”
“Don’t.” Wolf shook his head, and stepped back. “Looks hot. And we need some hot around this place, trust me.”
“I haven’t said yes to your offer, Wolf.”
“But you’re here,” he countered. “So you’re thinkin’ about it.”
“No. I’m here to talk about it.”
“Awful long way to come for a chat, Zee.” He shrugged his shoulders, and she saw the muscles ripple even through his t-shirt. “North Dakota ain’t exactly a hop, skip and a jump from Colorado, is it?”
She stayed silent. Wolf knew the score, and so she saw no need to tell him things he was already totally aware of.
Wolf stared down at Zoe, a bit taken aback at how happy he was to see her, and at how great she looked. Yeah, OK, she also looked wiped out, but several days of driving would do that to anyone. Throw in all the shit that had been dumped into her life over the past year, and you got one tired, stressed-out woman.
What he was offering her could change things for her for the better, he knew; all he had to do was convince Zee. And truth be told, that wasn’t going to be easy.
“So.” He ushered her over to the sofa, sat her down. “You want to shoot the breeze over a morning beer or just get right to it?”
She leaned back, those emerald-green eyes as sharp and whip-smart as he remembered them. “No beer. Hit me with it, Wolf, and I mean all of it. Give me your hardest, best sell.”
“No wastin’ time, huh?”
“Nope. No bullshit, either. You be straight with me. I’ll know if you’re lying to me.” Her smile was disarmingly sweet, and he immediately flashed back to Zee at the age of ten. “I always know when you lie to me.”
“That is the goddamn truth, baby girl.” Wolf paused to collect his thoughts, then launched right in. “So. You know I took over The Road Devils Presidency almost a year ago after Wheels died, but what you may not know is what a fuckin’ hard time I’ve had since then. I mean trouble recently – not all that shit in the beginnin’.”
“Some guy named Kansas filled me in a bit over the phone the day before I left Fargo.”
“Yeah, I asked him to since I was on the road that day.” He ran one large hand through his dark hair, down over the stubble on his defined cheekbones. “You needed to know that the situation is… in flux.”
Zoe already had serious reservations about all of this, but Wolf’s cagey manner made her tense up even more. Those walls that she’d built up over the past six years got a bit higher, a bit thicker, and Wolf’s already-challenging sell got way tougher to buy in to.
“Be more specific,” Zoe said. “What kind of hard time and trouble are we talking about here?”
“Serious resistance to my changes in the club.”
She nodded, not surprised. Wolf’s decision to sever all ties with the motorcycle club’s criminal contacts just a year before had been a bold, brave move… but no way it had been an overwhelmingly popular one.
“No big shock there,” she said wryly. “The Road Devils MC has always run drugs, and been big into the illegal strip clubs. When you shut all that down and left the world of the one-percenters, you really thought everyone would be thrilled with the loss of income?”
“No, of course not. I was expectin’ push-back from the two or three older guys and some of the more fringe members. Guys who were loyal as hell to Wheels and the crime scene.” Wolf exhaled, hard. “I just didn’t expect things to drag on this long.”
“What’s really going on, Wolf? Spit it out.”
“Lots of members leavin’,” Wolf said quietly. “Last month, one guy – Dawson Kinley – started a whole new club called The Blood Crew behind my back. Took over a dozen guys with him. Fuckin’ blindsided me, baby girl. Never saw it comin’ at all.”
That shocked Zoe, and she sat up straighter, not even pissed that Wolf had waited until she was here in person to tell her this part: this was a big goddamn deal, the kind of info that was passed on by the President, not anyone else.
Leaving an MC after being patched in was a major thing… an unthinkable thing. There were ways out, of course, though they were so hardcore that none were worth thinking about seriously. But just taking off and starting a splinter club without permission or warning? Fucking unheard of. And she’d heard and seen plenty about these MC boys.
“You’re kidding me,” she said, indignant for him; she also privately thought that The Blood Crew was the fucking stupidest MC name that she’d ever heard. “What an asshole.”
“Yeah, well.” Wolf shrugged again. “It’s done now. They just picked up all the dirty contracts and clients that I’d dumped, most of ‘em Kirk Jensen’s, so money’s no major issue for them, and all the parties involved know each other.”
“So Kirk Jensen is involved with Dawson’s new club? The goddamn Blood Crew?”
“Kansas didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Jensen’s dead.”
“What?” It seemed as though the devil didn’t have an unlimited number of lives after all, and even though she had no clue what had happened to that sick, twisted fuck, she was all ready to buy a drink for the person who blew him off the face of the earth. Two drinks if he or she dispatched Jensen with maximum pain and humiliation. “What happened?
“Ace Cuddy.”
Zoe blinked, trying to keep up. “Ace Cuddy? From – from The Fallen Angels, Ace Cuddy?”
“The one and only.”
“But… wait. The Fallen Angels are Jensen’s favorite boys. They get a huge number of his contract killings, and run the bulk of his drugs into Nevada. Don’t they?”
“They sure as shit did, baby girl, you ain’t wrong about that. But Cuddy turned informant, and ratted out club business and Jensen’s activities.”
“What?” Zoe repeated. “Informant for who? The feds?”
“Kinda. For Matt Kingston and his people.”
“Holy Lord above.”
Wolf nodded. Matt ‘King’ Kingston wasn’t a scum-sucking pimp, murderer and drug-trafficker like Kirk Jensen had been, but his name evoked just as much awe, fear, and hushed reverence as Jensen’s had. King and his black-ops-type group, King’s Men, were mostly the good guys (and ladies), but not always. They were privately-owned and -operated, and they took cases and clients on an individual basis, so they weren’t overly concerned with anything but fulfilling their contract obligations. King worked with the cops, but he didn’t hesitate to work with motorcycle clubs, ex-cons, and bounty hunters.
He also crossed lines, sometimes massively, sometimes beyond a point of no return. Using Ace Cuddy for information had been risky but above-board, but when Cuddy had gotten rumbled by his own club, King had protected him, though not well enough. Ace had been taken, badly hurt, sliced up, tortured. King’s Men had stormed the warehouse where he’d been held – and they’d taken down ninety percent of The Fallen Angels. They’d also killed most of Kirk Jensen’s lieutenants and upper people, leaving the organization crippled, vulnerable, hurting.
Wolf had been in that warehouse, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with King and his people, armed and dangerous. He’d killed some men that night, and he’d done it without a qualm. And he hadn’t been alone: Scars Innis, his Vice-President, had been there too. He wasn’t about to tell Zoe this part, though… The Fallen Angels and Kirk Jensen were done and dusted, and no sense drudging up the past.
Besides, that bloodbath at the warehouse to rescue Ace Cuddy was the first time in a year that The Road Devils had done anything illegal, violent, or questionable. And if Wolf had any say, it was going to be the last time for a long, long time. Hopefully forever.
“So – what?” Zoe said now. “Ace killed Jensen, and he ran?”
“Yeah. Cuddy’s long gone. Nobody knows where he is, except maybe King, and the man ain’t talkin’.”
“Is there trouble between you and the new club?” she asked him. “Between you and Dawson? Sounds like tensions are running high all over the damn place.”
“Nah, no trouble. Bad blood, for sure, but they leave us alone.” He sighed. “They’re busy takin’ advantage of the vacuum left by Jensen kickin’ the bucket and the Angels implodin’, you know, so they’re settin’ up new contracts and expandin’. They ain’t got time to come around here and cause shit.”
“You got Dawson’s word on that?”
“Yeah. He sent a message through Ice. He ain’t interested in any back-and-forth with attacks, and payback and more payback. He wants to focus on buildin’ up the business and growin’ the club.”
“So this guy Ice is with them now? He left you to join Dawson?”
“No way. Dawson asked him to go, but Ice told him to fuck right off. He’s loyal.”
“So your major problem at the moment is – what?”
“Lack of warm bodies,” Wolf said, waving his hands around the tattoo studio. “The guy that I had runnin’ this place did go off with Dawson, and now I’m stuck with no experienced manager that I can trust fully. That’s where you come in.”
Zoe leaned back, and surveyed her oldest and dearest friend. Yeah, here it was: the reason that she’d hauled ass across three states in her beaten-up Volkswagen that was practically being held together with packing tape. Wolf had a job for her, and even though the money was right, nothing else was.
“So.” Zoe looked around, noted the clean and professional surroundings. “I’d be an employee of Blue Dragon Ink?”
“Yeah.”
“And the tattoo parlor is one-hundred-percent owned by The Road Devils?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, in effect, I’d be working for the MC. For you.”
“Right.”
“I’d be back into it. The life.”
He paused. “Yeah. In some ways.”
She fell silent again and this time, Wolf let the silence go on. He knew she was fighting every instinct in her body to put as many miles of highway between The Road Devils and herself as humanly possible, and Wolf didn’t blame her. She’d barely gotten away from the club in one piece six years earlier, so he understood that she wasn’t in a big old rush to hand her whole life back to them, even if Wolf was in charge. He’d have to win her trust, however the hell she needed him to do that.
Her stunning eyes were narrowed at him. “Convince me that you and your boys are on the up-and-up now. That the club isn’t the same as I remember it. That you’ve turned your backs on the one-percenter lifestyle for real and for good.”
Wolf nodded. “How?”
“You earning money on your three businesses only, and you got the accounting to back the numbers up? You paying taxes? You got employee contracts for here and the bar and the garage? You got papers proving that you own this property? You got suppliers that aren’t being threatened, and are being paid on time?”
“Yes to all of it.”
“Show me.” Her blonde hair fell forward over her shoulders again, warm and loose. “Show me all you’ve got to prove to me that you’re legit and legal.”
“You want to call the suppliers personally?”
“Yeah. And show me their invoices, proof of payment, agreements.”
“You got it. What else?”
“Wolf…”
“Yeah?”
“I’d be safe? We both would?”
She asked these last two questions in a hushed, hesitant voice that was so unlike her usual ballsy confidence, it almost killed him. Wolf knew that for all her blustering about taxes and invoices, this was the real issue. He’d never forget finding Zoe tied up in that bar back room, naked and bleeding and surrounded by almost a dozen of his own brothers, who all had their dicks out, just waiting for their turn. Wolf had barely gotten her out and away; thank Christ he’d been in time.
Just in time.
“Yes.” His rough voice was gentle now, his hard eyes soft. “I promise you, baby girl… you’ll both be safe here. Nobody in the club is gonna lay a fuckin’ finger on you. I got my boys under control, and nobody in-house is questioning my Presidency. Dawson and his merry band of idiots have no interest in anything but establishin’ themselves – and they have a hard job, believe me. I’d never have asked you to come back if I thought for one second that anything bad would or could happen to you or Keira.”
She stared up at him, really looking at him. They’d known each other for twenty-two years now – since Wolf was thirteen and Zoe was ten – and she knew his every expression, every twitch, every tone. No way he could lie to her, and fuck if he wanted to. She was the one constant in his life, and they’d pulled each other through raging rivers of hell. It was a weird thought, but she was his best friend, his family. He’d never let her down. Not again.
“OK,” she said softly.
“Anythin’ else, Zee?”
“That’ll do for now.” She stood up, peeled off her jean jacket. Wolf eyed her full breasts in her tank top with automatic male appreciation, and she huffed at him. “Eyes off the girls, Connor.”
“Sorry.” He grinned, charming as hell, decided to tease her a bit now that some of the tension had passed. “Can’t help it. You’re a hot piece.”
“Urgh. Really?” Zoe put her hands on her curvy hips, and he grinned again at the endearingly familiar stance: she was raring up to hand him his balls, just like she’d done for the past two decades. “You fucking sexist dickhead. Call me that again and I’ll call you nothing but ‘Calvin’ and I’ll make a point of doing it in front of the guys and your slavering hordes of women.”
He shuddered at his civilian name that he’d tried hard to forget. Who the hell named their kid ‘Calvin Connor’? “Fuck. OK, deal. No more comments aloud about your sexiness. I’ll just keep my thoughts to myself.”
“Good plan. You’ll live longer. Now, you get me what I asked for, and then you beat it. I’ll take a few hours, check things out, and we’ll talk again after.”
“OK.” Wolf headed to the back office. “Gimme twenty minutes to sort it all out. The coffee’s fresh, so help yourself. And I’ll get Rebel to make you some breakfast, OK?”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”
Zoe poured a large cup of Wolf’s usual industrial-strength coffee, and took a grateful sip. Sleep was a hard-to-come-by luxury in her life, and caffeine was her fuel. She’d almost decided that she liked it black by now, though she suspected that sleep-deprivation may just have dulled her taste buds.
She wandered over to the large front window of Blue Dragon Ink, and stared out at the parking lot. It was still pretty empty, and no big surprise: the only other businesses around here were Satan’s Bar and The Garage, both owned by The Road Devils. The garage was doing a full inventory and was closed that day, and the bar was open at noon to the general public. Of course, it was open 24/7 for Road Devils members, but she doubted that many of them would be around at ten a.m. on a Friday.
She sighed, wondering just what the hell had possessed her to let Wolf talk her into this insanity. Because if Zoe was being honest with herself, she’d have to admit that she was really, truly considering coming back; even after it all and what she’d gone through to get away, she wanted to come back. Wolf Connor was the only man from the group of asshole MC members that she’d even listen to about coming back.
Yeah, he was a lot of things, and she knew just how many bodies he’d put in the ground. But he was like her brother, for all of that, and despite the fact that they hadn’t seen each other in years, and he’d never put her in the line of fire. He’d die before he’d let her get hurt again. She’d never forget the rage on his face when he saw her tied up on that table – or how tenderly he’d wrapped his own shirt around her shaking body, and held her as she’d wept. If he was telling her that Blue Dragon Ink was legit and she was safe, it was, and she was.
And so standing in the blazing sunlight, clutching her coffee, Zoe finally faced facts: she needed this. She needed what Wolf was offering her. Life in North Dakota wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t anything close to great, either.
Her current job at the tattoo parlor barely covered her expenses, and now that she had Keira, she was struggling. Like, really struggling. The money she’d earn in Denver was more than double what she was making in Fargo, and even though the cost of living was higher here, she’d easily be able to afford a small apartment, and her car payments, and food and clothes for a growing baby. She could make a go of it, for real. Life could and would be better, and she owed it to Keira to give her this. Fuck, Zoe deserved a break too, didn’t she? Just a little one?
And she could handle being around The Road Devils again, couldn’t she? Besides Wolf, she’d limit contact with them almost completely – stay at the tattoo studio most of the time and deal with her employees, maybe drop by the bar for a quick drink once a month, just to say hi to the guys. Be friendly, be polite, but be unavailable for anything more than tattoos, and the occasional game of pool. No need to become best buddies with any of them; definitely no need to get involved with any of them. No good ever came from that, God knows.
So basically she was acting like a bratty kid sister, and just fucking with Wolf, asking for the papers and playing coy. The truth was that her mind was almost made up.
Oh, who the hell am I kidding, huh? I’m coming back to Denver. This is home, and it always has been.