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“Yeah. She told me she worked the front desk for a tattoo shop, but I didn’t know it was his.”
“Pretty cool,” Green grinned. “Maybe we can go get his autograph.”
Wolf glared at him. “Maybe we can stay the fuck away.”
Green’s gaze sliced to Cole, and then back to Wolf. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”
“This gonna be a problem?” Cole asked, his eyes drilling into Wolf’s.
“There’s gonna be half a million bikers here later this week. Probably never run into her again,” Wolf replied.
Cole eyed him like he didn’t buy a word of it. “Yeah, and you know exactly where to find her. His shop.”
Crash looked between Cole and Wolf, and Wolf was sure Crash remembered everything he’d told him that night he’d ridden over to Crash’s loft and laid into Shannon. The night when he’d told Crash he was letting Crystal go.
“He’ll be fine,” Crash assured Cole, his eyes on Wolf. Then he put his hand on Wolf’s shoulder and gave it a little shake. “Won’t you Wolf?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
They all moved toward the bar, but Wolf couldn’t help glancing down the street one last time in the direction Crystal had gone. Two thoughts kept repeating over and over in his head like a chant. The first was that she was riding. Crystal was fucking riding. And she looked hot as hell on that bike. The second thought had his heart racing. She was here. In Sturgis. She was here! Holy fuck.
****
Crystal tossed her pack on the faded chenille bedspread of the wrought iron double bed. The guys were letting her have the one bedroom apartment above the storefront shop all to herself while they all crashed in the huge tour bus parked in the alley out back.
She moved to the window overlooking Main Street and pulled the curtain back. She had a perfect view of all the action. She could almost imagine how loud it was going to be. The rumble of bikes moving up and down the street would be keeping her up all night, she was sure.
A small smile pulled at her mouth. But, even so, holy hell, it would be exciting to be here. She’d never been to anything like this. Sure, she’d ridden with Wolf. Many times. But never on club business, never on a run, and never to a rally.
She bite her lip as thoughts of him filled her head, and she wondered if he’d be here. Wondered if the club was here. And if they were, if she’d ever run into any of them.
Dropping the curtain, she turned back to her pack, and began pulling out her clothing to hang in the small closet. Mostly they were just tanks or tiny spaghetti-strap tops, so they didn’t take up much room. Then she pulled out the flannel shirt she had buried at the bottom. The one that belonged to Wolf. The one she’d driven off with that morning when they’d last seen each other.
She lifted it to her face, inhaling deeply. It barely carried his scent any longer, but she liked to imagine she could still breathe him in. She couldn’t count the number of nights she’d curl up in bed with his shirt wrapped around her, missing him terribly and wondering if she’d made a huge mistake that day when she told him to let her go.
The sound of the back door opening drew her attention.
“Crystal, you in here?”
She glanced through the open bedroom door to see Max poking his head around the door. “I’m right here.”
His eyes moved to her. “We need your help setting up downstairs. We’ve got a shit-ton to get done before we open tomorrow.”
“I’ll be right there.”
He backed out and closed the door.
Hanging the flannel shirt carefully on the bed post, she quickly unpacked the rest of her things and hurried downstairs to get to work.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Evil Dead MC’s Sturgis campground was located on forty-four acres the club owned half way between Sturgis and Deadwood. The club
had purchased the property back in the eighties. It was private, secluded and most importantly away from the crowds and law enforcement.
Toward the back of the property there was a large steel building the club had had put up about ten years ago. It was a huge open space, not much more than a place to get out of the weather when it rained. Most of the time, the members crashed out under the stars with just sleeping bags.
As dusk fell, they had a fire going in a large open space on some cleared high ground. Wolf stood with Crash, Cole and Mack about fifty feet away from it. The Birmingham, Gulf Coast, and New Orleans Chapters had all just rolled in, having ridden up together. The men watched as the new arrivals parked their bikes in the gravel lot beside the big shed.
