Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4) - Page 155
Breaking news. Gang members arrested, big drug deal stopped. Shoot-out between two opposing gangs. Many people killed.
“That’s nothing to do with Jarett,” I say, my voice shaky. “It can’t.”
But my stomach twists again. I think I’m going to be sick.
When my phone rings, I jump.
“Jesus,” Merc whispers.
It’s Jarett. I connect the call, relieved. “Rett!”
“Gigi.” He sounds distant, his voice empty and exhausted. “They said I could call. You’re the only person… I’m sorry.”
“What for?” I bend over, my head spinning. “What do you mean? Where are you?”
I’m vaguely aware of Merc coming to stand in front of me, a frown on his face.
“Police station. They’re holding me for interrogation about the… about the shooting.” His voice dips so I hardly make out the words. “Last night. Seb’s dead, Gigi.”
“Oh shit, no. No.” I glance at the TV where the news is still playing, with images of a warehouse and yellow police tape. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
He doesn’t reply for a long moment, and I’m getting scared the line was cut, until I hear him breathing.
“I’m okay,” he says eventually. “I didn’t go in until after it was all over. Seb texted me. Said it was a trap. And I failed. Failed him.”
“No. Stop.” I want to shake him. I want to hug him. And I can’t wrap my head around the fact that Seb, who was such an asshole, saved Jarett from death. Nothing is ever black and white, is it? “What Seb was involved in wasn’t your fault.”
“I told him not to go. I told him to get out. I fucking tried.”
“Yes, you did.” I close my eyes, tell myself not to fall apart now. “You were the best brother to him, Rett. He couldn’t have asked for a better one.”
He says nothing.
“You’re alive, Rett. And life goes on. You’ll be out in no time. They don’t have anything on you, do they? I’ll come find you the moment they let you go.”
“You don’t have to. Nobody has to do that for me.”
“I’ll be there because I want to.” I swallow hard. “You’re my family, too.”
“No, Gigi,” he whispers. “You can’t. Everyone who takes me in dies.”
“I don’t want to adopt you, Jarett. I want to be with you.”
His breath hitches. “Why the hell would you still want that?”
“That’s easy. Because I know you were looking after your brother. That you didn’t sell drugs, or kill anyone. Because I trust you. Because I love you.”
And as I speak the words, I know that no matter what, they’re true.
Finding out from the nursing home where Becky Lowe’s funeral is being held is easy. We attend the service and then stand at her grave, me, Merc, Mom and her boyfriend, all of us dressed in somber black, silent.
It’s the least we could do. After all, Becky was Mom’s friend, and she was Jarett’s mom in all but name.
I tell him that the next time we talk on the phone and listen to him try not to cry. He’s still in jail. I’d been hoping they’d find nothing on him, but as it turns out, they have.
He had a Glock on him that night of the shooting, an illegal piece with the serial numbers filed down. Jarett says that Angel, one of the now dead heads of the gang, gave it to him. And that was enough, it seems, to get him on federal gun and conspiracy charges. To avoid trial, to avoid going to prison for a decade, they pushed him to plead guilty.
So he did, took the plea bargain and got twelve months instead.
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