Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

I was about to pull another smoke and I almost drop the pack. “What the hell do you mean, Simon knowing? How could he know?”

Jason shakes his head, not a hair moving out of place in his perfectly styled hairdo. “Had you followed? Followed you himself? Happened to be there when you entered the police station? Fuck me if I know.”

I remember the feeling of being watched at the station, and out, on the street, and suppress a shiver. “Why would he be following me?” The scars on my arm ache. I rub one of the deeper ones absently. “How the fuck would he know where to find me? It’s been years since the attack.”

Jason shoots me a shrewd look and cocks his head to the side. “You tell me, J. You never told me much about that night, or what happened afterward. You and Simon, you have history, don’t you?”

I press my lips together and lean back on the wall, kicking a foot up to rest on the smooth surface. “History. Sounds dirty.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Time you told me the story. It’s been years, man.”

I sigh. These are things I never told a soul. I hedge, rub my face, search for my smokes in my pocket.

Jason waits me out, until I start talking.

“That night wasn’t the first time Simon came to me,” I finally say. “Somehow he’d decided I’d be a good fit for his gang. So he cornered me again and again, insisting I join. I said no. I don’t do gangs, guns and drugs.”

The rules Helen set for me before she vanished.

Jason is leaning forward, brows lifted. “Go on.”

“That night… he wanted me to submit to him.” I open my mouth to say more, but the words fail me. Dammit.

Jason lets out a low whistle. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

I nod.

“Holy shit.” He fumbles for his pack of smokes. “Didn’t know he’s batting for my team.”

“Maybe he isn’t. See, it’s about control and dominance, or some shit like that.” I googled it on Gage’s laptop one night when I woke up drenched in sweat, my mind playing the events of that night in a never-ending loop of horror.

Suddenly Jason grabs my arm, his eyes round as saucers, and he looks sickly pale. “Dammit, J, he didn’t… He didn’t manage to force you, right?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Shook the motherfucker off and kneed him in the balls. Could be why he went into a rage and broke a fucking bottle on my arm.”

“Christ, J.” Jason snorts, shoulders shaking, then releases my arm and glares at me. “It’s not funny.”

“Never said it was.”

A beat of silence.

“Is that why you left right after?” Jason asks.

“I went to a group home for a while. I didn’t feel safe here.”

His turn to nod, gaze turned inward, and I really hope he isn’t reliving some dark memory of his own. “And now?”

Now… I glance around in the gathering darkness. “He only has to make one wrong step, and they’ll take him in. Meanwhile… Watch your back, Jason.”

“You, too, baby. Take good care of that gorgeous body for me.” He winks at me, gives me one of the lazy grins that nets him both men and women, and turns to go. “See you around.”

Although in front of Jason I pretended not to give a shit, on my way to work I jump at shadows and imaginary footsteps. I arrive at the taco joint out of breath, my heart slamming against my ribs as if trying to escape.

Jesus Christ, man. This shit is really getting to me.