Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

A shudder runs through me.

I pull out a smoke and light up. Yeah, without the Lowes I don’t even want to imagine where I’d have ended up.

Opening my eyes, I scan the street, then glance back into the alley. No movement. All is quiet tonight. The Glock Mav gave me is heavy where it rests against the small of my back. It’s a heavy piece, its serial numbers filed off, and God knows what he’s used it for in the past.

The first time he presented the gun to me, Mav asked if I’d ever held one before.

Fucking funny.

And he still doesn?

?t know anything much about me, well apart from the rumors. He thinks I’m like Sebastian, raised in the ’burbs by a nice, loving family, spent my childhood playing baseball and videogames.

He thinks having me as a watchdog is a joke, that when I say I’ll look out for Sebastian I don’t know what I’m talking about.

Better that way.

Knowledge is a dangerous, double-edged blade. I wouldn’t want him knowing that I was once, even if for a few years, the son of a cop.

A couple of cars drive by as I stand there smoking, freezing my fucking balls off, but none of them stop. A couple stroll by, talking quietly to each other. I stare at their heads, bent together, fighting a strange twinge in my chest. It’s like a lost memory, a flickering light just out of reach, a memory of something good, and warm, and important.

They vanish in the night, and I’m left staring after them.

The hell. Whatever. I throw my cigarette down and put it out with my boot, then rub a hand over my tight chest. You’d think my heart hurts. That it’s cracked inside.

But I don’t have a fucking heart.

Not anymore.

The back door of the bar whines as it opens, and I turn around, instantly on high alert, expecting Mav and everyone else to file out.

But it’s not him, or any of the guys.

It’s a girl, I realize as I squint in the darkness, the only light coming from the Exit sign over the door. A short, curvy girl with a head full of red curls, and she’s somehow familiar.

A guy comes out after her, tall and muscular, and the moment he’s outside, he withdraws something from inside his jacket and passes it on to her.

Uh-oh. I know who this is. I remember her in that back alley with the drug dealer.

Gigi’s bestie.

What is she doing here? Fuck. And more drugs… This girl’s big fucking trouble.

But that’s none of my business, right? As long as she goes away before the gang returns, we’re peachy. Angel’s paranoia is getting out of hand, and I’d rather he didn’t see her hanging around.

I watch as she exchanges a few words I can’t hear with Mr. Muscles and then heads back inside.

Good. About time. I let out a breath. Fish in my back pocket for another smoke. Wish I had Angel’s flask right now. My thoughts from before and this reminder of Gigi have rattled me more than I care to admit.

Just then the door opens again, and I almost roll my eyes. What’s up with this back alley tonight and all the traffic? I stick a smoke into the corner of my mouth and lift my lighter.

And freeze.

No fucking way.

Well, she did say they’re besties.

Gigi is standing at the open door, the loud rock music spilling out into the alley. She looks left, then right, as if searching for someone. No great leap of the imagination required to know she’s looking for her friend.