Ink’d & Ice (Wolves of Mayhem #1)

Prologue

STEVIE

Agirls’ weekend is exactly what I need right now.

Over the past two decades, I’ve done nothing but care for my mother, my ex-boyfriend Noel, and then worked to accumulate enough money to keep a roof over my head.

When Alicia suggested a weekend away, I jumped at it.

Actually, after I counted my savings, I threw caution to the wind and agreed.

Alicia and I were good friends in high school.

In truth, she was my only friend. Then life got in the way, and we drifted apart.

We had boyfriends, and I had been tending to my cancer-stricken mother.

Six months ago, I saw Alicia’s profile on social media, reached out to her, and we’ve been talking and texting ever since.

Until now. We’ll finally meet in person after all these months and years.

My duffel bags are by the door as I pace in front of the window.

I’m nervous about seeing her. I haven’t gone anywhere in a long time.

Plus, I haven’t seen Alicia in decades other than her social media photos, but face-to-face is different.

Aside from her voice sounding a little huskier, she seems the same, and we’ve had no problem picking up where we left off through phone calls and DMs.

The screech of tires pulls me toward the window, and I can’t help smiling at my long-lost friend. Decked out in jeans, knee-high leather boots, and a leather jacket, she comes strolling up to my door. I fling the door open and just stand here staring at her.

“Well, well. You’re still as beautiful as ever, Ms. Stephanie Adams.” She pulls me into a hug, stroking my back. “Damn, I missed you, Stevie.”

I’m a bit choked up, but I’m able to get out, “I missed you, too, Alicia.”

My body immediately relaxes, because her character is like a good hug. The wonderful thing about Alicia is there’s no smokescreen. She is what she is, take it or leave it, and I’m definitely taking it.

We separate, grinning at one another, and she says, “Let’s go.”

Alicia swipes one of the duffel bags from the floor, and I grab the other before locking up.

She’s one of those women who looks like a model in whatever she wears.

She eats anything she wants, and it doesn’t affect her lithe figure.

In high school, her auburn hair fell to mid-back, but now it’s cut into a bob.

And she’s wearing her signature red lipstick.

On the road, we have the windows rolled down, and an old playlist thumping through the air reminding us of when we ditched high school. She hot-wired a car that day, and we took off to the beach, blaring the radio.

We laugh at the memory, and then I ask, “Where did you learn how to hot-wire a car?”

Her head flies back in laughter. “My boyfriend. Of course, it only worked on old models.” We grow quiet, and then she adds, “Stevie, how the hell is it that you haven’t aged?”

It’s my turn to laugh. “Please. Aside from the haircut, you’re the same as you were in high school. Thirty-six looks good on you.”

Alicia howls. “Better on you. The wrinkles on my face are competing with a street map.” She shrugs. “No biggie though. I love the sun. Plus, I have saggy boobs and an ass to match.”

“That’s the price you pay for having D-cups.”

She glances over at me, nostalgia softening her face. “Again, I’m sorry about your mom.”

Letting out a long breath, I respond, “Me too. By the end though, I wanted her pain to go away. She suffered for four years before she died. Noel and I lasted for five more years until we both came clean about the lack of feelings we had for each other.”

Her fingers brush through her hair. “That’s rough for your mom.

As for Noel, at least you cut him loose before investing more years into a dead relationship.

” She takes a breath before she continues.

“My parents are doing well.” She knocks on the dashboard.

“Knock on wood. But I lost my first husband.”

“Yeah, you said. What happened?” I hold my hand up. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.”

Alicia’s hand waves my comment away. “No worries. It’s been three years.” She gives me a sideways glance. “He was shot.”

I gasp. “Shot? How?”

She cracks her gum. “Unfortunately, it goes with our lifestyle. He was a great guy, though. Loved him to bits.” She reaches for her pack of cigarettes. “I’ve remarried since.”

“Really? That’s a good thing, right?”

“Wish.” She lights a cigarette, takes a drag, and blows it out. “He did it as a favor to my late husband. For security and protection. I’m very attracted to him; except he has no desire to be with me.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” My fingers run through my hair, as I gaze out the window. “It seems for these six months we’ve been so caught up reminiscing about all the crazy fun things we did, we glazed over the present. We’ve said little about what we’re currently up to.”

Her head turns toward me while she places a hand on mine.

In an instant, we’re hit on the driver’s front side by a car, spinning us into the other lane.

My hand grasps the door; except we’re hit again.

The windshield shatters, and I scream, covering my face from the flying glass splinters cutting into my skin and eyes.

My head smacks the dashboard, and the world goes silent.

I wake in darkness. I’m unable to see a thing, which freaks me out. My hands fly up to my face to find a large bandage covering my eyes. I’m sucking in air as fast as possible, shaky fingers patting the bandage, and I release a barrage of whispered nos.

Someone comes into my room, placing their hands over mine. “It’s okay, Stephanie. You’re safe now.” She places my hands in my lap. “My name is Margarette. I’m one of your nurses. Do you remember what happened?”

My voice is gravely. “Um…we were in an accident.”

“That’s right, Stephanie.” She pats my hand. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Why do I have a bandage over my eyes?”

Margarette rubs my hand as she responds, “There was some trauma to them. The doctor will be by shortly to discuss your injuries.”

“Alicia!” I forgot to ask about her. “Is she okay? Someone hit us, and we spun into oncoming cars.”

I can hear her working. My mother was in and out of the hospital, so I’m aware of nurses checking vitals when they come in, yet her silence raises my anxiety.

This time, I whisper, “Alicia. How is she?”

“I’m so sorry, but she didn’t make it.”

My head is in a tailspin.

Alicia is…dead?

No!

Out of instinct, my eyes widen to the news, and I sob, igniting pain in both my eyes. Margarette attempts to calm me down.

It can’t be. She’s lying to me.

Alicia. We only reconnected six months ago. She’s only thirty-six years old.

There’s a pinch to my arm, and my sobs taper into whimpers until my eyes and mind are plunged into darkness again.