Caveman (Wild Men 1)

“Hey, calm down.” The other guy approaches us, hands held out. “I’m Asher. I heard about you.”

The guy whose mother I’m going to meet—but who cares right now? I want to shake him until he tells me what’s wrong with Micah.

“Micah’s okay,” Asher goes on. “He’s only visiting. It’s Seth the one who’s in trouble.”

“What happened?” I lean on the door frame, my legs wobbly. Even though they say Micah’s okay, I need to see it for myself. “Where is he?”

“Seth was jumped this morning when he stepped out for coffee. He was dragged into an alley and beaten to hell.” Asher’s mouth twists in a grimace. “He’s in the ER. He’s conscious, and doctors say he’ll pull through just fine.”

Ice spreads inside me. “Jumped? Who jumped him?”

Asher shrugs. “He didn’t get a good look at their faces. Two guys, he says. Assholes wore masks. Didn’t steal his money or anything. Somehow they just wanted to beat the shit out of him.”

Blake? Is it him or just a coincidence? Doubt, doubt. “Did they tell him anything?”

“You sound like you know something,” the guy with the long bangs mutters. “If you do…”

I shake my head. “Which hospital?”

“The university hospital. He was in the ER, but it seems he won’t be needing surgery, so he’s being transferred to a ward.”

“Thanks.” I’m already turning away. “I’m on my way there.”

Chapter Eleven

Micah

I sit at the hospital cafeteria, an empty plastic cup at my elbow, and the remains of my cell phone spread in front of me. This cell is done for. I was hoping it was just the casing that broke, but no, it’s been literally smashed to bits, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to come back to life any time soon.

Fuck. Like I need more shit dumped on me. Ev’s number is in there, and I can’t get hold of it. It’s killing me. Everything’s killing me today.

Goddammit, Seth. My hands shake, and I shove them through my hair. Can’t believe how god-awful he looked, white as a sheet, face and body bruised and bleeding. Can’t believe this happened. I thought this crap was over. I thought the violence was gone from my life. Now all I see flashing through my mind is images from the past, bloodied faces, sneering mouths, raised fists.

Stop it. I tug on my hair to stop the obsessive thinking. This is life. You’re never safe. It’s never over. Get over it.

Hell, I want to punch something. I need to move. I push my chair back and lean on the table to stand.

Someone is walking toward me, a small, slight figure. I blink dazedly.

“Ev?” I whisper.

Without a word, she comes to me and tilts her face up. Fear and concern darken her gaze.

She’s here. I grab her in my arms, wrap myself around her, inhale her scent and the howl that threatens to tear up my throat emerges as a moan. “Ev.”

Slender arms curl around me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I have to clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“And Seth?”

“He’s beaten to hell, but he’ll survive.” Saying the words out loud makes them more real, and I sag against her. “He’ll survive.”

“Your phone,” she says, pulling away and glancing at the table. “What happened?”

I drag her back to me. Can’t bear to be away another second. “I threw it against the wall. The wall won.”

She snorts and lets me hold her. Her hands trace soothing circles on my back, and my heart finally stops its mad pounding.