Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

He’s standing there with another guy, slouched by the door of the store. What are the odds?

Unable to stop a grin from spreading over my face, I turn my steps that way. Of course it’s him. That hard jaw, the cat-like eyes, the soft mouth, the big, muscular build.

“Hey.” I plant myself right in front of him. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the club, after… you know.”

I wait for him to reply, but he just stares at me, barely blinking.

Um. Weird.

“Yeah, what happened at the club?” The other guy drawls. “Who’s this chick?”

“Nothing happened at the club,” he says, his jaw tight.

“Okay… But you’re Jarett, right?” My heart is racing. “You remember me? I’m—”

“I don’t know you,” he spits out, expression flat. “Now get out of here.”

Whoa. “Jarett—”

“Look, I don’t fucking know you, okay? Now get!”

I stare at him, at those pretty green eyes, and I taste doubt for the first time. I swallow past a lump in my throat. “Jeez, okay. Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m going.”

“Get lost,” he says. “Go on.”

Lifting my hands, I walk away, trying to act like it doesn’t matter, although my pulse is hammering in my ears. Could I be mistaken? Maybe it’s not him after all?

But no. It’s been three years, not thirty. I know Jarett. I know him.

My mind is spinning in circles as I walk down the sidewalk, my hands in my jacket pockets. Got a bus to catch, a family to spend the evening with, a bestie to make up with. I don’t need this nonsense. My neck burns with anger and shame.

Jarett wouldn’t have treated me that way. It can’t be him. Maybe he has an evil twin? A doppelganger?

I glance over my shoulder to catch one last glimpse of him, as if that would solve the riddle, and stop.

He’s limping away from the shop, together with that other man, and two other guys who weren’t there before.

Limping.

Okay, that clinches it.

“Hey!” I turn back around and march over to them. I’m fuming. After Sydney’s betrayal, this seems like the last drop. “Jarett.”

He turns.

He frigging turns at the soun

d of his name. That son of a bitch. His eyes widen as I approach them, my hands fisted at my sides.

“I knew it was you.” I jab a finger at him, panting with fury. “What’s wrong with you?”

His eyes narrow again, that look of shock vanishing as if it’d never been there. “With me?” He steps away from his buddies to stand in my way. “Are you deaf, or are you stupid? Didn’t I tell you to get lost?”

“It was you at the club the other night,” I hiss, doing my best not to flinch at his sharp words. I lift my chin. “You helped me. Why deny it?”

“I wasn’t helping you. I was helping my brother.”

“Yeah, right.”