Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

I shiver and pull him closer. Old ways?

“It was a shitty time. I didn’t know anyone here.” His voice catches, releases. “The camp was somewhere in Minnesota. After I escaped, I rode in the back of a truck, and then another and another, until I reached the outskirts of Madison. I knew only one way of getting cash, so I tried it a few times. Except that night I was down on my luck.”

“What do you mean?” His heart is hammering again. I can feel it through his thin T-shirt where my arm is slung around him.

“I got no money that night. I got something else entirely.”

“What then?” I wait, and wait, but he doesn’t say more. I lean my head closer to his. “JJ?”

He shakes himself, as if from another bad dream—or the same one, who knows? “I was waiting at my usual place, but business was slow. Guy shows up, tells me that’s his spot. All bullshit. Well, it didn’t matter. He threw me down and kicked the living shit out of me. Then he broke a bottle he found lying around and beat me with it. Fuck, I tried to fight back but he was…” His breath hitches. “He was built like a shit brickhouse. I couldn’t win.”

“But you survived,” I whisper. “How?”

“Sometimes I’m not sure I did.” He draws a shaky breath. “Think I’ll wake up one morning and be back there.”

I lay my head on his shoulder, trying to get closer to him, hold him closer to me. In my mind’s eye, I see him, younger than he is now, skinny and filthy, lifting an arm to protect his head as a huge guy pounds on him with a broken bottle, leaving behind bloody gashes.

“People say they’d rather starve than do what I was doing. Have they ever starved? Do they know what it’s like? What you’d do to keep from dying?”

I want to cry. I want to ask a million questions, and I don’t dare.

Then it doesn’t matter anymore, because he shoves away and gets up. “Gotta go.”

He makes a beeline for the door and lets himself out. The door slams behind him, and I stare into space, trying to wrap my head around what he’s told me. What exactly was he doing on the street to earn money? What ‘old ways’? What is he trying to tell me?

Now I’m the one caught in his nightmare with no way of waking up.

“You need a website to sell these,” Ev mutters, lifting a pair of earrings made of copper coil and transparent glass beads with golden thread. “So cool. I bet Tyler could whip up one for you. Want me to ask? He’s got lots of experience.”

Any other time I’d be thrilled to discuss how I could live from my jewelry, but right now my mind is stuck on Jesse. I haven’t seen him or heard from him in the past four days, ever since he walked out of here. “I don’t know—”

“You should definitely ask Tyler for a website. I’ve seen a couple he created and they rock.” Kayla tries on a fuchsia pendant made of silver wire and colored thread. “Oh God, I’d totally buy half your stock in one go.”

Warmth floods my face. “Thanks.”

She bats her lashes and pulls down her blouse to show us cleavage while holding the pendant in place. “How do I look?”

“Come here, sexy lady,” Ev whispers dramatically and grabs Kayla’s arm, dragging her toward her on the sofa.

Kayla squeals and resists, a cat fight ensues, and I rush to rescue my pendant before it’s pulled to pieces. I retreat back to my armchair and roll my eyes at the two of them as they make faces at each other and cackle like demented hyenas.

“Are you done playing like two-year-olds?”

“Jeez, mellow down a little.” Kayla rolls off the sofa and lands on the carpet with an oof, and more laughter. “Oh man, I haven’t laughed like that in a while.” She grabs Ev’s foot and pulls until she gets her down on the carpet, too. “Missed you, girl.”

I do my best to ignore the tiny stab in my chest. They used to live together. Of course they miss each other. Heck, Ev has been telling me she missed me every week since I left town. But fighting insecurity is an uphill battle.

“Hey there, don’t look so gloomy.” Ev leans over and tugs on my leg. “Come down to our level. Madness is not contagious, I promise.”

“That’s what they all say,” I mutter, but slide down anyway, the box of my jewelry in my lap, and shoot her a smile. “In any case, it’s too late.”

“That’s my girl.” She snatches another pendant from my box and holds it up to the light. It’s polished copper, matching her curls. “Oh, I want this one, too.”

“I could sell you the box in return for a house on the lake.”

“You’re so incredibly generous.” Kayla bats her lashes at me.

“Just the box, though. I’m keeping the jewelry.”