Chapter Three

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 parlour 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 questionin’ 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 anythin’ 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.