Page 84 of Hunted

“I’m afraid so.”

She said, “Don’t laugh. We can probably get advice from the dragons. They’re good at hiding behind corporations.”

Good gods.

“And if you’re legit, then you don’t have to worry about my family hunting us down. We can fix this place up. Other women can come. The men can have mates.”

“Oh, no,” Thanatos said.

“Oh, yes. There can be cubs! We can have pack picnics and barbecues. That front hall of yours would be a kickass place for the annual pack Christmas party. And you could do Easter egg hunts…

Thanatos growled.

Gunn said, “Come on, Mikey, stop messing with him.”

“Okay, no Easter eggs.”

Gunn said to Thanatos, “She’s right, you know. Going semi-legit would solve a lot of problems.”

Thanatos said stiffly, “I will consider the matter.”

He went into the house, and the front door closed silently behind him.

Mikey turned to Gunn.

“Holy shit. I don’t know what that stuff was they gave me, but I am so high right now.”

Chapter 37

On Saturday morning a week later, the wolves were getting ready for their first official all-pack pig roast. Michelangela, who didn’t cook and had no intention of learning, was putting her non-domestic skills to use by setting up shop on the porch of the bunker and giving pack tattoos to anyone who wanted one.

She put the finishing touches on Dobe’s tat. “Nice,” he said, looking it over. It was a shield with a circular ring of three running wolves on it, and “Outlaws” underneath.

“Yeah,” Sanchez said. “Really shows how we’re going legit.”

Mikey laughed.

Dealer, the everybody’s-older-brother-crush guy, was sitting on a patio chair with a deck of cards, feet up on the railing, doing fancy shuffles, fanning the cards, and making aces appear and disappear.

He was a con man and a card shark, who always wore button-down shirts and could charm the pants off anyone—when he felt like it was worth his while. He also hated that no one at the Ridge would play poker with him. He cheated, of course.

“I can’t believe you’re doing tats on a fucking front porch,” he said. “Could it get any more unsanitary?”

She shrugged. “They’re shifters,” she said. “It’s not like they get infections. I could be doing this with a four-color ball-point pen and it wouldn’t matter.”

Dealer curled his lip. “How very jailhouse of you.”

Cisco rolled up his t-shirt sleeve and pointed to the crossed guns tattoo on his arm. “I did this one with pens,” he said. “And it is a jailhouse tattoo.”

“My point exactly,” Dealer said.

Dobe got up, throwing his shirt over his shoulder. “Who’s next?” he said.

Michelangela said, “I’m going to take a break. We’ll get to everyone eventually.”

“Everyone who wants one,” Sanchez muttered.

She walked over to Gunn, who was leaning on the railing drinking coffee. He watched Sanchez saunter off.