by Paige Tyler
Diego headed that way, fighting for control over his shift and his anger as he let his nose tell him everything he needed to know about the gangbanger and the situation. There was a bag of weed in the guy’s left coat pocket, some kind of opioid in his pants pocket, and a gun tucked away under his coat.
What the hell was Brandon doing hanging out with the same kind of people who had gotten him shot not too long ago? After spending time with the kid and introducing him to the beta pack, Diego had been sure Brandon would leave these kinds of mistakes behind.
Apparently, he’d been wrong.
Brandon must have smelled him approaching because his head snapped up, his eyes scanning the crowd until they locked on his. For a second, Diego saw what he thought might be relief there before the anxious expression returned. Then Brandon’s gaze flicked back and forth between the gangbanger and Diego, making him wonder what was going through the kid’s head. Was he embarrassed Diego was there…or relieved?
Diego would have liked to deal with this carefully, but unfortunately, there wasn’t time to be subtle. Factoring in how long it had taken to find the kid, it was likely they only had another two or three minutes before this place was locked down.
The moment he reached Brandon’s side, he wrapped a hand around his arm. “We need to leave—now.”
The gangbanger eyed him with a mix of amusement and contempt. “Who’s this? Your daddy?”
Diego ignored the question, giving Brandon’s arm a tug. They didn’t get more than two steps before the gangbanger was in Diego’s face, pushing his hand away from Brandon’s arm, then putting a palm on Diego’s chest and trying to shove him back. It didn’t work, but it was still irritating as hell.
Diego wouldn’t normally worry about making a scene, but he’d been hoping to avoid it in this case. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to play nice.
The gangbanger reached for the gun in his waistband, but Diego was faster. Getting a grip on the front of the guy’s coat, he picked him up and slammed him back against the wall hard enough to make the guy’s head bounce. Dropping him to the floor, Diego turned to grab Brandon, only to spin back around at a warning from his inner wolf. A big, burly guy with a gang tattoo came at him fast, right hand scrambling at his waist for a gun.
Diego closed the distance between him and the man, latching a hand around the guy’s wrist before he could pull the gun. Diego squeezed, feeling bones crack beneath his grip as he wrapped his other hand around the gangbanger’s thick neck and slammed him to the floor.
The sound of the impact was loud enough to be heard over the music, and from the corner of his eye, Diego saw that other people in the club had definitely noticed the scuffle. Diego ignored them and reached out for Brandon, who was staring at the two unconscious gang members like he’d never seen anything like it.
“If we’re not out of here in the next thirty seconds, your life as you know it is over,” Diego growled. “So, move!”
He nudged Brandon toward the exit with one hand, practically having to carry Kevin with the other. Thankfully, neither kid fought him as they pushed their way through the crowd staring at them curiously. The older kid they’d been with simply stood there and watched them go.
Dion was nowhere to be seen, and there wasn’t a barricade of DPD patrol units outside when they shoved their way through the doors. Diego didn’t slow down but kept urging Brandon to move fast until they reached his truck.
“Get in!” he ordered Brandon as he shoved a fumbling, mumbling Kevin in the back seat and strapped the seat belt on him.
Diego had just pulled out of the parking lot onto Harry Hines when cop cars started pouring in. He had no doubt his fellow police officers had the back exit of the club blocked before the cavalry got there. Eyes wide, Brandon turned and looked out the back window, probably figuring out exactly what he’d avoided.
Brandon didn’t say anything as they drove across town. Neither did Diego. He didn’t trust himself to speak without growling yet, so he clenched his jaw and stayed quiet. Kevin passed out and started snoring a few blocks later.
“Did he only smoke weed or was it something else?” Diego asked brusquely. “Did he snort anything? Take any pills? Do I need to worry about him having something in his system that will kill him?”
Brandon flinched at his tone, and for a second, Diego thought the kid wouldn’t answer. Finally, he shook his head, lowering his gaze to stare at the floorboards. “Just weed…like me. I don’t think it was that much since I’m not feeling it at all.”
Diego breathed a sigh of relief. At least he didn’t have to worry about Kevin overdosing. The kid had probably smoked marijuana with a high THC percentage. Well, higher than he was used to dealing with. Not that Diego was any happier knowing there’d been weed involved.
“Werewolves can’t get high from most drugs,” he said, trying to keep his voice as calm as he could. “So, while you weren’t getting anything out of the experience, your best friend was getting blitzed to the point of passing out.”
“Oh,” Brandon said quietly.
Diego’s chest tightened until it was tough to breathe, and it took every bit of his control to keep from reaching over and dragging his beta in for a hug and telling him it was all okay now. But he couldn’t do that. Brandon had screwed up, and Diego needed to find a way to get through to the kid so it wouldn’t happen again. As bad as tonight was, it could have been much worse.
“Where does your mother think you are right now?” he asked, figuring it would be best to come at this slowly.
Brandon opened and closed his mouth a few times before answering. “The movies,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“The movies.” Diego snorted. “Well, I guess if the lie worked before, why bother coming up with another one? You mom is so desperate to trust you, I can see why she’d buy it again.”
Brandon cringed. “Kevin and I really were going to see a movie, but then we ran into Wyatt and…well…he talked us into going with him. We ended up at the club.”
Diego decided to skip over the question of how anyone had gotten two kids as young as Brandon and Kevin into a club like Blacklight in the first place. That wasn’t important at the moment. “I’m assuming Wyatt was the other guy with you. The one who seemed so friendly with the gangbanger.”
Brandon’s head snapped up. “How did you know he was a gangbanger?”
“The neck tattoo,” he said. “It’s hard to miss someone affiliated with the Hillside Riders. Their tattoos are very distinctive.”
Brandon seemed to consider that a moment. “Kevin and I didn’t know he was taking us there to meet with someone from a gang. If we had, we wouldn’t have gone with him.”
“Then why did you go with him?”
Brandon let out a heavy sigh, slumping in the seat. “Wyatt just graduated from my school. He’s so popular that girls practically climb over each other to get near him. We figured if people thought we were friends with him, they’d want to be friends with Kevin and me, too.”
It didn’t make Diego feel any better to discover high school hadn’t changed much since his day. Kids would still do insanely stupid stuff to be with the in crowd. “And how exactly did Wyatt become so popular with the girls? Anything to do with the fact that he’s in with the Riders?”
Brandon didn’t say anything for a while. “Yeah. I guess he sort of has a reputation for being dangerous. In school, everyone knew if you were looking to score drugs, Wyatt was the person to talk to.”
Diego shook his head. “And this is the guy you thought would help you get girls?”
“Not just girls!” Brandon protested, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at Kevin still asleep in the back seat when his voice came out louder than he probably intended. “Any friends at all. Since it got out that my dad is a murderer, people have avoided me like internet malware. I might have friends in Ja
yna’s beta pack now, but Kevin is still screwed. He stuck with me from the beginning, even when it cost him all his friends. When Wyatt started talking to the two of us, we went with it. I want Kevin to find friends like I’ve made.”
If Diego hadn’t been driving, he would have smacked his hand to his forehead and held it there until the desire to groan went away. Only a teenager could think that getting close to the local gangbanger wannabe was a good idea.
“Did you ever think of introducing Kevin to the betas in Jayna’s pack instead?”
Brandon flushed. “No.”
“Is Wyatt the same guy who took you to that convenience store where you ended up getting shot?”
“Yeah,” Brandon mumbled. “We were supposed to go to somewhere cool, but then Elliott stopped at the store. He said he had to meet someone.”
“Which is a nice way of saying he was stopping to buy drugs,” Diego muttered, checking the rearview mirror to make sure Kevin was still sleeping.
“We didn’t know he was buying drugs,” Brandon explained, looking contrite. “We thought it was cool that a guy going to college in the fall was letting us hang out with him. Then the shooting started and he bailed, even when he saw that I’d been shot.”
“Not much of a friend,” Diego pointed out. “And yet he showed up at the movie theater tonight and you took off with him again.”
Brandon stared down at the floor again. “He said he was sorry for bailing on us and that he wanted to make up for it by introducing us to a guy he knew.”
Diego already knew how this part ended. He thought it possible he was developing a migraine, though werewolves didn’t get headaches. “The guy from the Hillside Riders. Why would he want you and Kevin to meet a guy like that?”
The silence was much longer this time. When Brandon finally answered, his voice was so soft even Diego’s werewolf-enhanced hearing had a hard time picking it up.
“At first the guy was really cool. He gave us some weed to smoke for free. But then he told us that Wyatt said we’d be willing to sell drugs at school. Since Wyatt graduated, they need someone new and they wanted Kevin and me.”
Diego’s fangs made an appearance then, as a surge of anger—and fear—rushed through him. Shit, this was worse than he’d feared. Brandon had been a hop, skip, and a jump from being a damn drug dealer for an effing gang.
“We wouldn’t have done it,” Brandon added quickly. “Kevin and I would never do something like that. I swear.”
Thankfully, Diego could tell the kid was telling the truth. But while that definitely counted for something, it still wasn’t enough. He had to make sure Brandon understood how stupid he’d been.
“The Hillside Riders are using the back offices and kitchen of the Blacklight as a place to make and package drugs,” he said. “There were almost twenty gang members in there tonight, all of them armed and ready to kill to protect their drug trade. Do you have any idea what could have happened if a rival gang made an appearance tonight? Or if one of those gangbangers started shooting when the police raided the place?”
Brandon swallowed hard. “I could have been shot again,” he said, the words barely distinguishable over the sound of the road rushing under the truck tires.
“Yeah, you could have.” Diego didn’t want to keep piling on, but he knew he had to. “And while you’re a werewolf—and therefore hard to damage—you aren’t indestructible. A bullet through the head or the heart and you’re as dead as anyone else. That would suck for you, but how do you think your mom would handle that, huh? Think she’d be okay with losing her son because he was hoping to hang out with some people who’d make him popular?”
Brandon didn’t say anything, and in the dim light, Diego could see tears starting to run down the kid’s face. Diego wanted more than anything to pull over and yank the kid in for a hug. But he couldn’t. Not yet.
“And what about Kevin?” he demanded. “You know, the best friend who stuck with you when everyone else bailed? What if he’d gotten shot the first time in the convenience store? What if I hadn’t gotten there tonight in time to get you out before the raid and he’d gotten shot in the club trying to cover your ass again? You survived getting shot, but Kevin might not. How would his family feel if that happened? How would you feel?”
Brandon dropped his face into his hands and started to sob uncontrollably.
That was it. Diego couldn’t take any more of this tough-love stuff. He was this close to breaking down in tears himself at seeing his beta hurting like this.
Easing over to the shoulder, Diego put the SUV in park, then undid both his seat belt and Brandon’s and pulled him in for a hug.
“I’m so sorry,” Brandon mumbled against Diego’s shirt. “I don’t mean to be such a fuckup.”
“Shh. It’s okay,” Diego said, making calming sounds as he rubbed Brandon’s back. Tears stung his eyes and he blinked them back. “You’re not a fuckup. You’re a teenager. You made mistakes and you’re almost certainly going to make more in the future. But some mistakes you don’t get a chance to come back from. I want you to really think about what you’re doing before you make one of those mistakes and regret it for the rest of your life.”
They sat there on the side of the road there for a while, talking about how overrated it was to be popular, how Wyatt was likely looking at a police record, which would probably get him kicked out of college, and how Brandon was going to do things differently when he and Kevin went back to school in the fall.
“No more worrying about being with the cool kids, right?” Brandon said, his tears finally dried and his face clear.
“Right,” Diego said. “How about you worry about finding people who accept you and Kevin for who you are and make friends with them instead?”
Brandon nodded.
“Good,” Diego said. “How about we get you home?”
Brandon was quiet as they drove toward the apartment, staring out the side window, lost in thought. After a few minutes, he looked at Diego. “You’re going to tell my mom about all of this, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not,” Diego said after a moment to think about it. “You are. I’ll be right there with you while you do it, but part of doing what’s right from now on starts with you stepping up and telling your mother everything.”
Brandon didn’t look happy but nodded in resignation.
Chapter 14
Bree figured she and Diego would go straight home after having dinner at the fancy French restaurant they went to, but instead he surprised her by taking her to a club with a full parking lot and Latin music drifting out of an upstairs balcony already packed with customers sitting at small tables.
“We’re going dancing?” she asked, embarrassed when her voice almost came out in a squeak. “I love to dance! I haven’t been in forever. I think the last time I danced was when I was in high school. You-know-who didn’t like it. Said it made him look uncool.”
She doubted looking uncool would ever be a problem for Diego. Something told her he was a very good dancer.
Diego chuckled as he opened her door. “Then I’m glad I took a chance and decided to come here. I kinda thought you might like it.”
Once inside the beautiful entryway with its colorful walls, hardwood floors, and whirling ceiling fans, Bree started to get a little nervous. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she said it had been a long time since she’d gone dancing.
The smiling, dark-haired hostess showed them to a table off to one side of the dance floor. While it was close enough to give them a great view, it was far enough away that she and Diego could talk without having to shout. As the server took their drink orders, Bree watched the couples on the dance floor moving and twirling to a hip-swirling beat that was already making her tap her toes. She recognized the dance, but wasn’t sure she could replicate the smooth, confident steps.
“I’ve never salsa danced,” she
admitted when the server left. “I don’t think I’ll be able to move like them.”
Diego smiled and reached across the table to take her hand, not bothering to glance at the couples dancing. Instead, he had eyes only for her. “Don’t worry about it. I can teach you the steps. Just relax and let the rhythm take over.”
Bree wasn’t so sure about that, but she was willing to give it a shot. No way was she passing up the opportunity to dance with Diego.
Their drinks came as Diego was pointing out the basic steps, highlighting the foot placement and the sway of the dancers’ hips. The more Bree watched, the more she was sure that an embarrassing face-plant was coming her way in the near future. Even though she loved to dance, she wasn’t all that graceful at it.
“How’s Brandon handling being grounded for the rest of the summer?” Diego asked, sipping his Jack and Coke, his attention once more focused on her.
She picked up her strawberry daiquiri and took a careful sip. The perfect balance between rum and fruit, it was cool and refreshing. She didn’t often drink anything but wine and had no desire to make herself look any more foolish on the dance floor. “Better than I thought he would.”
Bree had been shocked when Diego had walked into the apartment the night before with Brandon and Kevin trailing behind him a whole hour before she was supposed to pick them up at the movie theater. Then she’d almost lost her mind as Diego gave her a brief synopsis of the evening’s events.
To say it had been a very long night was putting it mildly. Kevin’s parents had come over and listened as Brandon and Kevin spilled every single detail of their involvement with Elliott Gillespie and his Hillside Rider gang contact. Diego hadn’t said much, letting her son and his best friend answer all the questions. Bree was horrified—not to mention terrified—that Brandon had put himself in a position like that again. But there was some part of her that was proud he was standing up to all of it now.