Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

“Hey, Seth?” I sink into one of the ugly-ass orange easy chairs beside the reception desk and rub my eyes. Amber’s face flashes behind my eyelids, I hear her laugh in my mind, and God, I just wish I could be pressed to her right now. She’d feel so good, I think—and how fucked up is it that she’s stuck on my mind? I blink, the shop returning around me. “About tonight, you said—”

I shoot to my feet. “Damn, are you okay? Seth!”

“Fuck.” He’s hunched over, clutching his shoulder, his face twisted in a grimace.

I’m by his side in two long strides. “What the hell’s wrong?”

He hisses out a breath and slowly straightens. “I’m okay.”

“Fuck that, a blind man can see you’re not fucking okay. Is that the shoulder you dislocated?”

Dislocated when Evangeline’s psychotic ex, Blake, found a way to get back to her by using her friends as punching bags.

He nods and lets me steer him to the stool inside Zane’s workstation. “It’ll pass.”

“You shouldn’t force it, man. Did the doctor clear you to mop and sweep?”

He shrugs, then groans and curses.

Right.

“What about your ribs? And the kidney bruising? Did you get checked?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He starts to get up, scowling at the tattoo shop in general. “It’s just the shoulder. Doc said it might hurt for a while longer.”

“Listen.” I let him get up, then grab him by the shoulders, making him yelp, and steer him toward the ugly orange chairs. “You sit there now.”

“What the hell are you doing, J?”

“Your shoulder hurts. Mine doesn’t. I’m here, and I got nothing to do. I’m too tired to argue about this, so don’t say anything, okay? I’ll clean.”

“But tomorrow—”

“Yeah, I know. Tomorrow, too. Rest that shoulder, d’you hear me? Dr. J’s orders.”

“Dr. J, huh?” He snorts but doesn’t resist when I push him down into the chair and go look for the mop, which tells me he has to be in a fair amount of pain, even if he doesn’t admit to it.

Damn. He should tell Zane about it, but knowing how annoying Zane can be when he hovers, I understand why he hasn’t.

“Dr. J, you coming tonight, right?” Seth asks after a while.

“Tonight.” I dig through my stagnant memory for clues. Nothing comes up. “What’s tonight? Was I invited?”

“It’s guys’ night out. Beer and pool. Damn right you were invited.”

About to tell him to screw the beer and pool night because I’m not in the fucking mood, I hesitate.

Might as well go, I think as I fill up the bucket and carry it back to the main area of the shop. Sleep is impossible with Travis banging random chicks until the walls shake, Gage and his buddies hammered and yelling at each other, and Alex… well Alex is quiet, but hell, the other two are enough.

Might as well get shitfaced. Then at least I know I’ll pass out till morning.

Halo, the gang’s favorite hang-out, is packed for a Tuesday night. It’s also warm and stuffy inside, the smell of too many breaths and sweat steeped in alcohol overpowering the reek of fried fish tacos that clings to my clothes and skin.

It’s late, and I don’t feel like swinging by the apartment to change. Just wanna say hi to the guys, get a few beers in, head back and hit the sack.

I spot Ocean’s head of blue hair at the back and head that way, pushing through the crowd. Loud music spills from the speakers. It’s rock. Celtic rock, I decide, as I skirt a table with a rowdy group, barely avoiding a guy’s fist as he swings it to give a friendly punch to his friend. At least I hope it’s friendly.

Maybe it’s a theme evening, and I missed the memo.