Bad Wolf

by Jo Raven

  “Oops.” Heat seeps into my face. “Sorry?”

  “It’s fine, you little shit. You know it is. I just want you happy. And out of the house before I lose my hearing.”

  “I knew you getting all sappy on me wouldn’t last.” I hide my blush behind my own mug, my favorite, a red one with a teddy bear that Octavia gave me when I was little. “Speak your mind or forever hold your peace.”

  “Wow, that was random.” He rakes his fingers through his short blond hair. “Are you guys an item now? That was my question.”

  “That’s not what you said.”

  He cocks a brow at me. “So? Are you? No reason to be shy. You know I approve.”

  “You do?” My eyes bug out.

  He frowns. “Why are you so shocked? He seems okay. And you like him a lot, so…”

  “I do.” I gather my knees to my chest and give him a curious look. “I like him a lot, but I thought…”

  “You thought what?”

  “That you wouldn’t approve of him.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Well, for starters, he doesn’t talk all that much. And he bangs your sister.” I crack a smile at Merc. “I thought, you know… that you might be unhappy about that.”

  “I’m not a caveman, like the one our sister married.”

  I grab a bread crumb and throw it at him. “Go away. You love the caveman our sister married.”

  “He’s a great guy. But that doesn’t mean I’ll hit any guy you bring home over the head with my club.”

  “How disappointing.”

  He just stares at me until we both start to laugh.

  “Jesus.” He drops his phone on the table and wipes at his eyes. “Can you imagine me with a club, grunting at Jarett when he sits down at breakfast…”

  “…and he could grunt back, and you’d communicate with grunts…”

  “…and throw bits of bacon at each other.”

  “Wait, now that’s gross.”

  We laugh some more.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I finally admit, when our laughter has died away. “We’re not really together.”

  “Define ‘together.’ Because you sleep together every night, Gigi. You hold hands. You hug. You fuck.”

  “But we don’t really talk. Not about the things that matter.”

  “Define the things that matter. Why don’t everyday things matter?”

  He’s right. But… “We don’t talk about the future. About the gang. If he’ll ever leave it.” I swallow hard. “I don’t think he will. He made this promise to his sick mom to stay in the gang and look after his brother. And he won’t discuss it.”

  Merc’s expression darkens. “You’re right, that matters. Quite a fucking lot.”

  Yeah.

  So are we together when we can’t dream of a future together? When his promise matters more than himself, more than us?

  How does that work? Where does it leave us?

  How will life go on when he smashes my heart to pieces?

  “So where is he?” Sydney asks the moment I approach her table in the coffee shop. “You brought him along, didn’t you? Say yes.”

  “He is right outside, talking to someone.” I take a seat and grab her latte to steal a sip. “He’ll be right in.”

  “Does he know I’m here?”

  “Ah-huh.”

  “And he still came? Damn. Impressive.”

  I give her the side-eye. “Okay. Just how horrible were you to him last time you saw him?”

  “I wasn’t horrible to him. Maybe a little snarky.” She sticks her tongue out at me. “Hey, I was stressed. Can’t blame a girl.”

  Not sure about that. I’m a forgiving person, and I give myself entirely over to the people I care for, like her. But man, she’s been making it hard, and patience isn’t infinite.

  “Oh, there he is.” Sydney looks like she’s in dire need of popcorn and soda as she watches Jarett walk into the coffee shop.

  I twist in my seat to see what she’s seeing, and yeah, there’s Jarett, his tall frame and broad shoulders filling the door, his presence filling the whole coffee shop, erasing everyone else, the faces and chatter and noise.

  With his dark hair and light eyes, the high cheekbones and full lips, with that physique that tells anyone looking that he can hold his own in a fight, he’s turning heads.

  And it’s a ringing silence inside my mind as he spots us and smiles before heading our way.

  Whoa, he’s gorgeous.

  Powerful.

  Mine.

  “Woo.” Sydney fans herself. “He cleans up nicely.”

  “Why are you acting like you haven’t seen him in years?”

  Come to think of it, why am I?

  “You can’t expect me to get a good look in a club while trying not to get punched by some douchebag,” she says.

  Okay, good point.

  And that reminds me. “What happened with your boy, the one who vanished?”

  “He’s not my boy. Jeez, Gigi, how many times do I have to say it? And… I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

  I frown at her, but Jarett reaches our table, and she gets up, all smiles.

  “Hi, Jarett.” She sticks out her hand. “I’m Sydney.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “I know,” he says slowly, but takes her hand. “Jarett. In case you’d forgotten.”

  She laughs.

  Jarett turns to me. “Does she need saving today? No? Just checking.”

  “He’s funny!” Sydney gasps.

  He lifts a brow. “Yeah, I don’t always just hit people.”

  Was this a mistake? I just wanted my bestie to properly meet my boy. I mean, we’re not officially together, and everything Merc said keeps playing in a loop in my mind, but we spend every night together, and whenever he has time, he calls me.

  We talk about our day. He tells me what he intends to do with me during the night.

  I can’t focus in class, or when I try to study at home. I keep doodling, drawing his face, seeing his face in front of me.

  I’m all his. Does he know that?

  Is he mine? Could he ever be?

  “No saving needed today,” Sydney says. “And I had no idea Gigi asked you to look out for me, Jarett. Sorry if I bit your head off when you were helping me the other night.”

  I glare at her. Jarett never told me this.

  But he just sits down beside me and takes my hand. “That’s fine. I’d promised Gigi to take care of you, and I keep my promises.”

  I give him a watery smile back. Is this my answer? Once he promises something, he can never break that promise? That means he won’t leave the gang, ever.

  Her brows climb up. “Okay. Well, let me get you guys something to drink. As a way of saying thank you.”

  He nods. “Black coffee, no sugar.”

  “Sure thing. And a latte for my bestie. Coming right up.”

  My heart is heavy. How many times does he have to say it for me to finally grasp that he won’t fight to be with me?

  But with his warm hand wrapped securely around mine, his eyes on me, I push away the worry once more.

  He’s here now, and as long as he’s here, there’s hope.

  Jarett’s humming a melody while fixing a broken kitchen cabinet, and I’m staring, trying not to drool, as he wields the tools, his brow creased in concentration.

  He’s pretty good with his hands. And the heat spreading over my face at the thought of just how good his hands can be doesn’t surprise me anymore. Flushed and breathless seems to be my natural state around Jarett.

  He’s singing now, his voice a nice bass.

  My ears perk. “What are you singing? Didn’t know you could sing that well.”

  “I can’t.” He grins sideways at me, and my thoughts falter. He’s hot when he’s brooding, but when he smiles he dazzles me.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  He hammers a nail into the cupboard, his grin twisting. “Don’t stroke my ego
. It doesn’t need it. I’m arrogant enough as it is.”

  But I’m not so sure about that. I touch my hands, where they touched his. My neck where he kissed me. My lips, still burning from his kisses. He likes to tease, but he’s not arrogant. He can be rough when he wants me, but also gentle.

  This boy. He once accused me of thinking too low of him, but he does an even better job of it himself.

  “If you think you’re so bad, tell me, would you change anything about yourself?”

  He stills, then glances at me. “Is this a trick question? The list is fucking endless.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He grabs another nail and lifts the hammer. “Even if you could erase my past, sweets… erase my record about shoplifting and the destruction of property, and my time spent in juvie… You know what I’m caught up in now.”

  I hang my head, sadness welling inside me. “I’m no saint, either, you know. I also went through a shoplifting phase, back when I was a teen. Drove Mom up the wall.”

  His eyes widen as he turns them on me.

  Then he shakes his head. “You’re nothing like me, girl. I’m a selfish bastard. I pissed on every couple who thought about adopting me cuz I didn’t want them. I thought they couldn’t replace…” He sighs. “Never mind. What I thought doesn’t matter. I was a stupid little shit. I should have told my foster dad how grateful I was to him for seeing past that and taking me in. I should have…” He puts the hammer down on the counter. His eyes fall shut. “Should have told Mrs. Lowe what she means to me.”

  Oh God. I step closer, put my hand over his. “I’m sure they all knew. You’re a great guy. Much more than you give yourself credit for. And for the record, I wouldn’t change anything about you.”

  He blinks at me. “You wouldn’t?”

  “I know you, Jarett. And I like you.”

  More than you’ll ever know.

  His mouth curves into a faint hint of a smile. “You’re crazy to like me. But I’m not gonna complain.” He turns and wraps his arms around me, crushing me to him.

  Then he dips his head and kisses me.

  So softly.

  The world halts.

  Every memory of a previous kiss is wiped clean the moment his mouth covers mine.

  I’ll never want another man the way I want Jarett. I’ll never love another the same way, and that’s the truth of it.

  The truth of me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jarett

  “What the hell is this?” My boss at Fat Burgers, by the name of Gus, waves a pocket of fries in my face. “Burned, that’s what this is.”

  “I’m not the one frying those things today.” I jab a thumb over my shoulder. “Jimmy there—”

  “Shut your fucking mouth, and go get our customer a pocket of fresh fries.”

  I shut my fucking mouth, and go away to get fresh fries, because replying won’t get me anywhere, as I’ve quickly found out in the past weeks. Logic won’t get me anywhere.

  Justice won’t save me, cuz I’ve betrayed it.

  And everyone working in here knows it.

  I’m working on finding another job, but it ain’t that easy. Gus told the neighboring businesses and all his goddamn friends not to hire me, and I can’t take a job too far away because I need to keep an eye on Mom and Sebastian, and Angel doesn’t want me far in case the gang needs me nearby.

  I’m fucked.

  But Gus’s the one in the right. Not me. I shouldn’t fucking complain. I chose my path in life. Made my choices. I’m twenty, for fuck’s sake. A grown man.

  Doesn’t make this any easier, though.

  I check with Tilly who’s the one on frying duty right now, and she passes me a pocket with unburned fries.

  Turning to take them to Gus in the hope he’ll forget to be pissed at me for two seconds, I stumble over something,

  Although I have an oh-shit moment, arms wind-milling, fries flying everywhere, I still think I won’t fall, that I’ll regain my balance.

  Then my bad knee gives away, and I faceplant on the greasy floor before I even know what’s going on.

  The side of my head smacks on the linoleum and the impact rattles my bones, all the way down to my goddamn feet. Dark stars blink in and out in my eyes.

  Fuck.

  “Aw gosh,” Gus says, smirking as he leans over me, “did it hurt? That was on behalf of the coffee shop your gang smashed to fucking pieces last week.”

  I wasn’t even there. I’d missed the text message, balls-deep inside Gigi, and Angel later threatened to break my bones if I failed to show up again for gang business. Angel thinks he’s running the mafia, not just a gang. As if it all matters at all.

  “You even listening to me, dickhead?” He kicks me in the stomach, and I curl in, around the pain. “You and your buddies will never amount to anything. Fucking punks.”

  He’s right. He’s damn right.

  “Now get up and get back to work, cuz I’m telling you, boy. I’m looking for an excuse, one damn excuse to kick your sorry ass out of here. If you’re late, and I don’t care why, I don’t care if your house is burning or your uncle dying, you’re fired. Got it?”

  “Got it,” I mutter, and roll to my knees, then get my feet under me, slowly, testing my knee.

  At least this, this arrangement—me against the odds—is a familiar one. I’m not giving up the fight, not now, not while I have something to fight for.

  Even if that’s my moron of a brother. I’m keeping this job, and I’m keeping my place in the gang to safeguard his stupid ass.

  That’s my promise to myself, and like I said before, I keep my fucking promises.

  After work, and after one more “accident” involving a bottle of mayo and an elbow in my ribs, I head out to the apartment to clean up and change.

  Only to run into Sebastian coming out of our building, his eyes blazing and feverish. I freeze, caught by surprise, and he shoves me aside.

  “Stay out of my fucking way,” he hisses, and stumbles past me. “I don’t have time for you, you poor bastard.”

  “Watch where you’re going, dammit.” I look at him go, not sure why I’m so rattled. His words shouldn’t sting like that, but they’re the last drop in a long motherfucking torrent of abuse today. “And fuck you, anyway.”

  For some strange reason, the need to see Mom hits me so hard I can’t breathe. I don’t even care that my clothes are covered in greasy mayo stains, that I stink like fried fat and sweat.

  But first I have a gang meeting to attend.

  “We’re evolving,” Mav is saying, gesturing with his lit cigarette around, leaving smoke signals with every move. “Like a living organism, we’re taking over more and more territory. We’re expanding our business.”

  He stops and waits, and I imagine a round of applause going up.

  Maybe he does, too, but the silence he gets instead doesn’t seem to faze him. Everyone’s looking bored, or drunk, or both, sprawled on plastic chairs in this backroom of a bar we’ve been using lately to meet.

  What exactly is he talking about, anyway? This is a gang that nobody talks about. Well, apart from Gus, but that doesn’t really count. I always knew Mav and Angel were ambitious little shits, but this sounds like they’re planning something…

  Or I’m just tired and hearing things in Mav’s ramblings that aren’t there. Is he just trying to make himself look important?

  “Angel will tell you more about this,” he goes on. “Soon, when he has the details.”

  And now I’m thinking again that Mav is planning something.

  Whispers fly around the room. Jorge is looking more alert than I’ve ever seen him. What does he know?

  “Hey, Mav. You sure you should be talking about this in front of him?” Declan asks, sneering at me. “He can’t be trusted. Do you ever wonder what he’s doing when he’s not here, who he’s talking to?”

  “Fuck you.” I lean back in my chair. “Who would I talk to?”

  “That�
��s the question, ain’t it?” He shoots me a nasty grin.

  I push my chair back as I get to my feet. “You really want my fist in your ugly mug, asshole?”

  “Gonna hit me? Do it, motherfucker.” He opens his arms, his grin widening.

  I’m gonna rip him a new one.

  “Jarett, sit down,” Mav barks. “Dec, shut your trap.”

  “Lay off him, Dec.” Sebastian throws an empty can of beer at Declan. “Fen isn’t talking to anyone outside us.”

  I turn, startled, but Seb only glares at me as if I pissed in his Cheerios.

  Right. So what was that about? Is he just concerned about me blackening his image in the gang?

  “Fuck you,” I tell him.

  I don’t need his support. I knew they don’t really trust me, and it seems they sensed I’m pulling back more and more these days.

  Well, fuck them.

  Fuck them all. I don’t give a damn.

  I walk to the bus stop and catch the next bus in the direction of the nursing home. I’m numb, and tired, and content to just let the city roll by, lights and people and noise.

  My phone bleeps with a message. I glance at it and find it’s from Gigi, asking me how I am.

  That makes me smile. In the middle of my anger and frustration, only she can do that.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I send back and slump back in my seat.

  I just want to see Mom. Hug her. Tell her about my day. Maybe she’ll understand what I’m saying. Maybe she’ll tell me not to worry. That everything will be okay. That she’s glad I’m keeping an eye on Seb. That things will get better.

  The reception lady, not Macy this time, tries to stop me, but I mutter at her something about emergency and run down the hallway to Mom’s room.

  Entering, closing the door behind me, I walk right over to her and go to my knees in front of her. Mom, I want to say.

  Mom.

  But I can’t make myself speak the word.

  And the illusion doesn’t even last two seconds this time.

  She screams, batting at my hands, no recognition in her eyes. She’s saying something, but I can’t make out the words, and I’m too stunned to move, even as two nurses burst into the room.