Bad Wolf Read online

  Score.

  I wander closer, peek at the engine. It looks… perfectly engine-like to me. “What’s wrong with it?” I ask, and have the satisfaction of seeing them all jump.

  Nothing like some good old boy torture, especially when it comes to family members. I mean, who can you play pranks on if not your own brother?

  “Gigi,” said brother mutters.

  “In the flesh.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought you might need help fixing this engine? No? I was just checking.” I wink at Kaden who’s pretty hot, but sadly married and also sort of like a brother to me, too. “Then I guess you’re all fine.”

  Kaden laughs.

  Matt looks confused. “Did you need something? Octavia is at home with the kids, she didn’t come in today.”

  “I just wanted to talk to my brother.”

  Merc’s attention is back on the engine, so I kick at him. He looks up, startled. “What? Me?”

  “I only have the one brother. Well, apart from our douche half-brother.”

  Yeah, we have a half-brother back in Destiny. Ross, the bully. My sister wants to save him, but I doubt that’s possible, or desirable. Let him rot there.

  Merc gives a long-suffering sigh, but then shoots me a grin. “What’s up?”

  “I want to talk to you alone.” I grab his hand and tug. “Come on.”

  “But…”

  “Just for five minutes, Mercury.”

  “Go on,” Matt says, his gaze amused. “The engine will still be here after five minutes.”

  This time Merc’s sigh is heavier, but he lets me pull him away and into the small, stuffy office. “What do you want, Gigi?”

  I let go of his bigger hand and close the door, then start pacing up and down the scant five feet between the desk and the wall, chewing on the end of my ponytail.

  Where to start?

  “Gigi.” Merc parks his ass on the desk and folds his arms over his chest. “What is the matter? You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I wave an impatient hand at him. “It’s just… something you said the other night. About Jarett.”

  “Shit, again with that guy?” Merc growls a curse. “He’s bad news, sis.”

  “About that.” I turn toward him and fold my arms under my breasts, mirroring his pose. “Tell me what you know. You said something about a gang.”

  “Yeah, well.” He drops his arms at his sides, then lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck. “What about it?”

  “Tell me more. About this gang, and how he’s involved.”

  “What’s to tell?” Merc grumbles. “It’s a gang. They hang around trying to look cool, and sometimes steal things and sell drugs. They’re bad guys, Gigi. You should stay away from them.” He frowns. “Away from Jarett.”

  I turn away and take a deep breath. He’s right, of course. It’s exactly what I’ve been telling myself.

  But I’m here to understand something, and I think maybe I got it.

  Drugs. Sydney is looking for drugs. Jarett may be a member of a gang dealing drugs.

  Is that the connection I’ve been missing? The reason why Jarett is always around when Sydney gets into trouble?

  “You don’t even know if it’s true that he’s in a gang,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. “It’s all hearsay.”

  “Look…” He gets up and comes to stand beside me. “His brother is in a gang, I know that for sure. A small gang, sure, relatively new, but word on the street is that they’re trying to move on to bigger things. Worse things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Bigger drug deals? Selling guns? I dunno for sure. But I heard that they’re at every rave party and every bar and club where drug lords hang out. And Jarett goes wherever his brother goes, and that alone, sis, is fucking bad news. Those are dangerous people. I don’t want you hurt.”

  “I won’t be. Don’t worry.” So here, then is the connection. Drugs, like I thought. I slump against the wall. But God, why would Jarett go wherever his brother goes? His brother’s an asshole, and I just can’t…

  Can’t accept Jarett’s the same.

  And that’s exactly my problem. I like Jarett way too much, so I can’t accept he’s bad news. I equate good looks with kindness, and integrity, apparently.

  Awesome. It’s a common mistake. One Merc is trying to make me see, and avoid.

  But what he doesn’t know is that it’s too late. I made that mistake three years ago, and I still haven’t found a way to break away.

  At the car honk from outside, I step out of the house and quickly close the door behind me. I run down the porch steps and around Sydney’s car.

  She grins at me as I climb inside the passenger seat and blow on my hands to warm them. “Ready?”

  Am I? I’m wearing a sexy dress and my high heels, and I spent way too much on my hair and make-up. I feel like a high-school girl going to the prom.

  Ridiculous.

  What sort of person does it make me that I’m excited to go out with Sydney, even if it means she’ll go looking for drugs and trouble, on the off chance I might see Jarett?

  That I care less about the fact she’s looking for drugs and more about the possibility of Jarett being around?

  Sick. This is sick. And I should stop.

  But I can’t, can’t stop the way I feel, the way my heart is racing and my face gets hot, the way my belly tightens with desire at the thought of seeing him again.

  “Where are we going?” I glance outside the car window, not seeing anything, as she drives back toward the city. “Another frat party?”

  “No.” She seems focused on the road, but her eyes flicker, as if she’s in deep thought. “Not this time.”

  Great. “I trust you. You know that.”

  She glances quickly sideways at me, mouth quirking in a faint smile. “I know.”

  “But Syd… when will you tell me more about what’s going on?” At her silence, I plunge on. “You know I love you like a sister. I worry about you.”

  “You shouldn’t worry.”

  “How can you say that? I watch you meet with drug dealers, I watched Jarett fight them off you—”

  “I never asked him to interfere.”

  But I did. I don’t say that. “He was trying to protect you.”

  She shakes her head, her expression hardening. “I was fine.”

  “Tell me this: do you do drugs?”

  “I don’t, Gigi.” Another glance my way.

  But her gaze doesn’t linger, and I can’t tell if she’s telling the truth.

  “What about your friends? Your boys. Do they know?”

  “Know what? Nothing’s happened.” Her mouth settles into a thin line. “Will you let this go?”

  “For now.” I sigh and let my head drop back, let the hum of the car engine and the rock music playing low on the radio calm me. It’s been a long week, lots of classes and quizzes and worry. “Will your boys be at the party tonight?”

  A shrug. “I don’t know.”

  I blink. “What?” The four of them have always been inseparable. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. They’re not my boys. We’re just friends. They do their thing, I do mine.”

  “You guys fought?”

  “No. We’re good.”

  But you’ve always done everything together, I want to say. You’ve been attached at the hip since forever. All four of you.

  What else happened? What isn’t she telling me?

  Is this why she’s doing drugs? Because she’s sad? I mean, here’s the thing. No matter how hard I try, no matter what she says, I saw her with those guys, with that girl in that back alley. I saw the small plastic bags. So I’m not sure I can believe her.

  I think she’s lying to me.

  About more than just this.

  And I’m going to find out the truth.

  We park on a side street and walk down a long alley, our heels clicking way too loud in the eerie quiet. I keep gla
ncing over my shoulder, expecting to be assaulted.

  Not cool.

  I open my mouth to tell Sydney that I’m calling an Uber to go back home, when she stops and raps her fist on a big metal door.

  “Where are we?” I hiss at her, still glancing around me uneasily. “What is this place?”

  “It’s a night club. Java Bar.”

  I’ve rarely been to this side of town, and never to this nightclub. “And why are we here?”

  “A friend invited me.”

  The bouncer, a huge gorilla, looks us over, his lip curling, and a look I don’t like entering his beady eyes.

  Then he nods and opens the door wider, letting us enter.

  “It’s a great party,” Sydney says, smiling and tugging on my sleeve. “Come on.”

  She steps inside, and I follow cautiously, arms wrapped around myself, unease curling in my gut.

  In retrospect, I should have expected this. I knew what was coming, but my mind had cheerfully disconnected the nightmare from the fantasy of finding Jarett again.

  Smoke curls in the spotlights, and to the thump of a heavy beat, bodies move, jerk and twist, the light catching on their faces, their hands, glowing lines on their clothes.

  A round bar is set up in the middle of the vast space, luminescent, a glowing donut galaxy floating in space. We wade through the writhing, dancing crowd, heading toward it, and the glazed smiles and dazed eyes I notice in passing don’t bode well.

  Oh yeah, lots of drugs here.

  Jesus. A rave party.

  “Syd, wait.” I hurry after her, catch her elbow—but a shove from a guy passing by loosens my grasp. “Don’t you dare go off and leave me.”

  But of course she can’t hear me. I can barely hear myself think in the deafening beat of the electronic music, and the thump of hundreds of feet jumping and stomping and shuffling on the floor.

  Crap. This is my fault, for agreeing to come along.

  Just don’t let her out of your sight, I order myself. Not for a second. Stick to her like a tick, don’t let her take a step alone.

  You’ve got this.

  But as it turns out, I don’t even have to try. Sydney turns and waits for me to catch up, then hooks her arm over mine and drags me to the bar where we leave our jackets.

  And then we dance.

  We dance and dance and dance, only stopping to grab a drink, and then returning to the beat.

  It’s like the past few weeks haven’t happened. It’s fun, swaying together with my bestie, doing moves that have nothing to do with the music, turning and dancing back to back, flirting with strangers with that feeling of security that comes from knowing you have someone you trust right there, ready to pull you away if things go south.

  It rocks. It’s so awesome, and I’m so frigging happy I could cry. The worries slough off me like dead skin, and I’m light like the smoke rising toward the ceiling. The world is set back to rights, and I’m at the center of it, dancing and laughing.

  It feels as if life is back to normal, that it was off-center and is now sliding back into place. A ritual of friendship we repeated too many times to count since we first met back when I first moved here.

  At the same time I met Jarett—but I won’t think about him, about coming here hoping to see him, about what we did last time we met at the frat house.

  Better this way. No drugs, no danger—no Jarett.

  I should be glad.

  I am glad.

  Sydney pulls on my hands, and we spin together giggling, a circle of perfect synchrony, an eddy of light.

  Eventually, she drags me back to the bar where she convinces the bartender to get us new drinks—a beer for me, a vodka shot for her.

  As I settle on a free stool, she leans in to shout in my ear.

  “Just going to the bathroom! Be right back.”

  I nod, and smile, and watch the bartender unscrew my beer and pour her shot, until my fuzzy brain catches up.

  I said, don’t leave her alone for a second, the little voice of reason in my head says.

  But she’s only going to the bathroom.

  Are you serious right now?

  Oh God… It can’t be. She didn’t distract me, and appease me, and spin me around until I was dizzy and trusting, only to go and do what I’d hoped she wouldn’t do, right?

  I hop off my stool and go after her.

  Only one way to find out.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jarett

  Seb is wasted. Booze and weed and fuck knows what else. He’s listing where he’s leaning against the wall of the club.

  At least I won’t be chasing him around tonight, prying him off unwilling girls and breaking up fights he’d start for no reason with other guys.

  Mav is talking with Angel by the Gents door, and catches my eye. He gestures, and I leave Seb to go see what he wants with me. I’m rarely involved in gang business, at least directly. Look-out, bodyguard, and muscle—that’s what I am. That’s what I do so they’ll keep my brother safe.

  “Go take a look,” Mav says, nodding at the bathrooms. “Shem was supposed to be a minute, and we’re going. Go get him.”

  “He got in Mooney’s face earlier,” Angel says, and nods at the bathrooms. “Just FYI.”

  Great. They think the other gang jumped Shem in the bathrooms. That idiot. What was he thinking? He always struts about, thinking he’s the shit.

  “Okay, going in. You gonna be here?”

  Angel glances at Mav. “We’ll be waiting outside. Just get him out.”

  I don’t ask why Mav and Angel didn’t go in there to look for Shem. Maybe afraid a cop is lurking somewhere, waiting to catch them if they get into a fistfight. The gang may still be relatively new, but Mav and Angel have already made a name for themselves. Ruthless. Cunning. Getting deeper into drug trafficking.

  If I was smart, I’d have never come near them. I’d have run away. That’s what Connor taught me. That’s what my rational mind tells me to do. Leave, skip town and disappear, cut loose all ties and make a new life somewhere else.

  But what life is there when you leave the only family you have? When the only people who care about you, the people you promised to take care of, are right here?

  Even Sebastian, that dickhead.

  Mrs. Lowe.

  Gigi.

  Cutting that last thought short, fucking pissed at myself for thinking it in the first place, I push the bathroom door open and step inside.

  The thump of the music goes muted as the door closes behind me.

  A guy is washing his hands, glancing at me in the mirror over the sinks. He’s dressed in hipster pants and a tank top with silver letters, his hair sprayed silver. His face isn’t familiar.

  “Shem?” I call out, and when I get no reply, I open the first stall. “You in here? Dude, answer me.”

  The guy at the sink harrumphs, and leaves, the door banging behind him, letting inside a sliver of music.

  As the sound dies again, I try the other stalls. One is locked, and a guy snarls a curse from inside when I rattle the door.

  I kick the last stall open, and I find Shem sitting on the closed lid, his head in his hands. Blood is trickling down his face from a cut on his cheek, both eyes are black, and his jaw is swollen.

  Christ. “Come on. Didn’t you hear me looking for you, man? Mav and Angel are outside, waiting.”

  He lets me pull him to his feet, his knees bending, and I haul him back up, hissing a curse as my own knee protests.

  “Your big mouth get you into trouble, huh?” I mutter, not expecting a response. “They didn’t break any bones, did they?”

  He grunts something I take to be a no, and resign myself to half-carrying him through the club. Could this evening go any worse?

  Together we make it out of the stall, and then I have to maneuver him so he’s propped against the wall to open the door. The music blasts at my eardrums like a gale as I loop his arm over my shoulders and pull him along, shoving our way through the crowd.
/>
  An elbow catches me in the ribs as I try to drag Shem through a group of yelling, jumping guys, then a foot kicks my shin, and I curse a blue streak.

  Motherfucking ow.

  Somehow we cross the whole fucking club, and the bouncer obligingly opens the door for us. I haul Shem outside, not one hundred percent sure Angel and Mav and the rest of the gang will be there as promised.

  Yet there they are. Alfie and Jacinta break from the group that’s been smoking pot in the dimness of the back alley and take Shem off me. I’m fucking grateful, and I bend over, massaging my knee.

  That goddamn old injury will haunt my steps forever.

  “Coming, Jarett?” Elena asks over her shoulder. “We’re going to a new place Mav discovered. The night is young, baby.”

  Where they go I go, and they know it. I’m about to say yes, when a passing glance over the group tells me Seb isn’t here.

  “Where the hell is my brother?”

  Angel frowns. “Didn’t see him.”

  “Then he’s still inside. I’ll go get him.”

  “Boy, how long will you babysit that guy for?” Elena rolls her dark eyes, adjusting her hold on Shem who’s scowling down at his feet. “He’s older than you. He’s a damn menace, and not worth your time.”

  “None of your fucking business,” I growl. “Go ahead. I’ll find Seb.”

  “When you find him,” Angel says, “take him home. He’s trashed. I doubt he’s in any shape to party or work any longer tonight.”

  Disdain drips from his voice, and I find my fists clenching. Sebastian is an asshole, but Angel is a smooth-talking scumbag. He has no fucking right to talk.

  Turning on my heel, I march back into the night club. The bouncer lets me in, back into the pounding beat and the swirl of sweaty bodies, and I start to search for my brother.

  That’s the only goal I have in my life, the only promise I can keep, and I’ll be damned if I botch it.

  What feels like hours later, the music beat hammering on the back of my eyeballs and against the inside of my skull, I’m forced to admit defeat. Sebastian is nowhere to be found.

  My jacket is where I left it, on a stool right where he stood, but there’s no sign of him. There’s only one logical explanation: he left the moment I entered the Gents looking for Shem.