Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

Frustrated, I glance at the bar’s back exit, then back at him. His gorgeous eyes. His mouth. His bad-boy attitude. The tension radiating off his body.

All the conflicting signals are hurting my brain, but I can’t let Sydney go down without a fight, and right now, Jarett seems like my only chance. He hangs around the same places she does, he knows people and things.

Always has.

“Just help me, please? She’s my best friend. She’s a good girl, and… I’m scared for her.” Hearing myself saying the words out loud sends a shiver through me. “I’m scared she got involved in something she can’t get out of.”

“And what am I supposed to do? Spank her?”

“Don’t be a dick.” God, why did I think he’d be nice? “You’re the one who told me the people she deals with are dangerous. Just keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t get hur

t. And meanwhile I’ll try again to talk to her, convince her to stop with this… Hey, are you listening to me?”

He huffs, maybe in laughter, digging a pack of smokes out of his back pocket and turning away from me to light up. “Me? You’re the one who didn’t listen to a word I said.”

Come again? “What the hell, Jarett? I’m asking you for a favor.”

He blows out smoke, the cold air bringing the scent of fresh tobacco over to me. “Know what? Sure. For the right price, I’ll watch over your stupid little friend.”

“Syd isn’t stupid.” I think. In any case, only I get to call her that. She’s my bestie. And then… his words sink in. “What sort of price?”

He smirks, makes a show of looking me up and down. It’s not hot like it was before. Now it’s calculating, and cold. “What do you think?” He reaches down, adjusts himself through his jeans, and I find my gaze drawn to his package.

“I don’t understand…”

He’s hard, I realize. Fully hard, I can see the outline of his cock, and it should bother me, make me furious—but instead I feel hot, unable to look away.

His eyes narrow. “You suck me off,” he says, “every time I help your friend. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

Cold shock runs through me. “You serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

God, I can’t… can’t think straight. This is where I give him the finger and go away, just as he told me many times to do, right? Where I never come near him again. He’s not the boy I used to know. How many times do I have to have that reality shoved into my face to believe it?

I want to slap him. Kick him in the nuts.

Undo his jeans and wrap my hand around his hard-on.

Oh God, I’m going crazy. This is stupid, and I’d do anything for Syd, but not this… Not get hot and sweaty with Jarett Lowe, undress him… Touch him, feel him, taste him…

Surely not.

“So what do you say, sweet cheeks?” he drawls, still smoking, like we’re discussing the weather. “You in?”

“God,” I whisper, and lick my dry lips, my heart pounding. I’m hot and bothered, and so frigging pissed I can’t even. “What happened to you? Of course I’m not in. Forget I ever asked.”

Fuming, I turn and march back into the bar. Something I should have done long ago, the moment, in fact, I saw him lurking there, at the end of the alley.

God, if I get my hands on Syd, I’ll strangle her.

I’m so frigging mad—and the worst part is that I’m not sure if I’m more upset with her, or with myself for being so damn naïve and thinking Jarett would help me.

The boy I remember is gone.

History class is dead boring and so late in the day that my eyes keep closing. It’s warm inside the amphitheater, and Professor Emery is droning on about some medieval torture device and battering rams.

I swear I’m not making that up.