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“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?”
