When the first guard touched my arm, I swung. My mind went blank.
But then it registered—these weren’t our normal guards. One raised a taser, but as he was about to light me up, Tanner grabbed him. “No!”
The guards backed off.
“No!” I went after them, needing this. I needed to feel on the outside what I felt on the inside.
Tanner grabbed me, wrapping me in his arms, putting me in a hold.
We’d learned this when we were kids, but I was beyond any clear thinking. I was still trying to swing, needing an out.
Crowler stood slack-jawed. Samsonite was crying, pale. And Carlster just frowned. Not much fazed that guy. The rest of the guards had pushed back the hockey players and the crowd in the box.
“He’s my brother,” I heard Tanner shouting over my head. “Hurt him and you’re dead.”
He got a better hold on me and applied pressure.
He was putting me out.
I wanted it.
I wanted to be with her.
* * * *
I came to and immediately knew we were still at the club. I could hear the bass from the music through the floorboards, but we were in an office. I lifted my head to look around. A big office. Couches lined the entire side of it, and forty people could’ve sat where I was.
It was more of a small event room.
Sitting up, I looked behind me. A tinted-glass window overlooked the dance club below. At the far end of the office was a bar, and I could see several people gathered there in the semi-darkness. A door in the corner opened, showing a bathroom inside, and Samsonite came out, drying her hands.
I swung my legs down, and a door at the other end of the room opened. Tanner and the hockey guy emerged. They shook hands, and the hockey star headed back out to the club.
Tanner glanced my way, realized I was awake, and motioned for me.
Right. Time to deal with real-life shit.
I stood, my head pounding.
“Jonah.” Samsonite moved toward me.
“No,” Tanner barked. “He deserves to have that headache for a little while longer.” He nodded sharply toward me, and I made my feet move.
The headache pounded into me, keeping rhythm with the music. He was right. I did deserve it. I made my way toward him.
Crowler came over, but not super close since Tanner seemed territorial for some reason. He looked at him and turned to me. “You okay?”
I nodded, grabbing the back of my neck, feeling a knot there. “I’m fine.” I scanned the room, all my friends were here. And all were eyeing me with concern.
I shook my head. “You guys can take off if you want. Family drama aside, I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?” Samsonite moved forward.
Tanner made a growling sound behind me. He didn’t like that outsiders were concerned about me when he was around. That made me smile.
I had missed him.
He shook his head and moved through the door again. “Get rid of your friends. We have business to deal with.”
I frowned, but once he closed the door behind him, I reassured them I’d be fine. “For real. I’ve been avoiding my family for a while,” I explained. “He’s due some answers from me.”
Carlster nodded, moving for the exit.
Samsonite hugged me. “Your brother is hot, but scary. If you need us, just shoot me a text. Okay?”
I stepped back from her. “I’m good. I promise.”
She nodded, squeezing my hand before going to where her sister and the hockey boyfriend waited by the door.
Crowler grabbed me in a fierce hug, adding one hard pound on my back. “Care about you, man.” He stepped back, dipping his chin as he moved to follow them back out into the club.
“Jonah!” Tanner called from inside the room he’d gone into.
Right.
It was family time.
Chapter Twelve
JONAH
“Samsonite?” Tanner sat behind a desk, leaning back. “Crowler? Carlster? They told me about Bubs and Babs. What kind of friends do you have?”
“We’re big on nicknames.” I shrugged, scanning the room for where he might keep some painkillers. Or alcohol. Either would help.
He rolled his chair back, pulled open a drawer, and set something on the desk. “There.”
He had put two Advil on the desk for me.
I snagged a bottle of whiskey, popped the pills in my mouth, and took a drink. I swallowed them with a nice burn afterwards.
Tanner frowned as I retreated to a couch in the corner, easing myself down. This office had the same setup as the connected other room I’d come to in. One wall was tinted glass, and I was able to look down, watch the people on the dance floor below.
“How’s your head?”
Pounding. “It’s fine.”
He snorted. “You’re such a liar. Why don’t you tell me the truth? Remember what that’s like? Been so long since you told us the truth. Maybe you don’t remember anymore.”
I elaborated on the nicknames, ignoring the other bite from him. “Crowler’s name is Gabe. Samsonsite’s real name is Hailey. Carlster is actually Ayush. Bubs is Mitch. Babs is Catherine. We don’t like real names because when we’re all together, we like to get away from the pressure of being doctors. Nicknames help with that, for some reason.”