Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

But Gigi loves me.

It’s like letting go after holding on too tight for years, like being able to breathe after being underwater for ages, like being sick like a dog and then well again.

She loves me.

That thought carries me down the street and across, down a line of shops and through a line of people at a hot dog stand. In the gray light of day with the cold wind whistling around me, I can almost feel her arms around me, I can hear her voice asking if I’m okay.

When did she become my sanctuary? When did my thoughts of her become my salvation? This girl… She says I should leave the gang, and she’s right.

What about my promises? My promise to myself to keep my job. My promise to my mother to keep Seb safe.

I have a feeling that I’d break them all for her. And she’d be worth it.

We’re at the back room of the bar where we usually meet these days. The bar is owned by a friend of Mav’s, apparently.

Angel is talking about a new job going down in a few days, a big job, and everyone is shifting in their seats. So this is what Mav had been jabbering about the other day. This expansion of the gang.

This is much bigger than anything this small gang has ever undertaken, more dangerous, and there’s a sour tang in the air.

Fear.

I think of Gigi’s family at the hospital, how they’d stood close to each other, relaxed and comfortable with each other. With themselves, and their lives. I think of how fucking bad I wish I’d fit there, with them, even as I know it can’t be.

I itch for a smoke.

“Jarett.” Angel’s voice breaks through my thoughts. “What the fuck, man. Are we boring you?”

I straighten on the stool I’m perched on. “I’m fucking listening.”

“Are you now? And what’s it gonna be? Are you in?” He folds his arms over his chest. “For fucking real this time?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, Jarett. You’re only here for your brother. You’ve said it too many fucking times to count.”

Sebastian is watching me, jaw set. I haven’t had the chance to talk to him since that phone call when I asked him to find Merc. There’s a challenge in his gaze.

I think of Gigi and her mom, what she told me about the past.

I think of my mom in that nursing home, and the promise I made her.

“I’m in,” I say, keeping my face blank. “You know it, man.”

“Good.” Angel’s eyes linger on me, hard, studying me. “Good, let’s go over the plan once more.”

A plan about drugs and guns and cartels and other gangs that sounds like an old Tarantino movie. I pat my back pocket for my smokes and try not to think about it too hard.

I’m in, because Seb is my responsibility, and that hasn’t changed.

Though it doesn’t mean I won’t try to talk him out of this, out of the gang and all this bad shit that’s about to hit the fan and rain on us pretty damn soon.

I’m in the kitchen when my phone rings late that night. I have the window open, and I’m smoking the last of my pack of smokes. Beside me is my last glass of scotch.

I’m broke, and fucking broken, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. The phone rings and rings, and I give in and snag it from the counter to check the caller ID.

Gigi.

Anyone else I’d send to hell, but not her.