Page 3 of Running Feral

“I thought I might find you here, pet.”

His voice is too close to my ear, his breath hot and moist on my skin, but I don’t let it penetrate my awareness. Instead, I focus on putting a smile on my face that isn’t too wooden.

“Hey,” I say as I turn to look at him. Blue eyes. Blond hair. Nice features. It’s all a very pretty package covering up how terrifying he can be underneath. He’s young enough that he still looks a little boyish, like me—or at least he would without all the gang tattoos—and it’s completely incongruent with everything I know about his personality. “You should have called if you needed me. I wasn’t doing anything important.”

Eamon must smell the alcohol on my breath, because his eyebrows climb a fraction. Then his eyes scan the rest of my face, taking in what must be flushed cheeks and possibly a throbbing pulse in my throat.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be day drinking by yourself. What if something happened to you? How were you going to get home? What if work needed us? You know I don’t like you being out in the world unprotected. Especially in a place like this. You could end up getting molested in the bathroom.”

The comment leaves a sour taste in my mouth, but I’m careful not to show it. Never mind thathe’smore queer than most of the people in this bar; and also loves to hang out here. And if anyone’s going to “molest” me…

No. Don’t think negatively. Just make peace. Before anything has the chance to escalate.

“I’m sorry,” I say with a pout that I know is adorable. “I knew you were working, and I didn’t want to bother you. But I missed you. Thank you for coming to find me.”

I glance around to make sure we’re not the focus of anyone’s attention, then I quickly peck him on the lips. He’s not big on public displays of affection. Or private ones, for that matter. He prefers displays of ownership. But anything I can do to mollify him is worth the risk.

It must do the trick, because his face softens a little. I hop off the bench, swaying slightly as the alcohol hits me in a wave and parlaying that into an excuse to lean on him. Instead of waiting for Kasia and getting more of her dirty looks, I throw too much cash on the bar and turn Eamon toward the door.

We’re almost out of there unscathed. It’s only at the last possible second that I turn without thinking and catch a glimpse of Gunnar in my peripheral vision.

He’s watching me. Watchingus.With a face more furious than I’ve ever seen.

He’s almost always placid, like the surface of a lake, but I think I’m getting an unexpected glimpse into the churning water underneath. It’s only for a second before he slips his mask back into place, but it’s enough. I saw the real him, watching me like I’m someone worth watching.

Maybe I’m not the only person who hates Eamon. For whatever reason, just like the idea that Gunnar might miss me when I die, that thought buoys me enough to keep myself together as Eamon grabs my hand, dragging me out the door and toward his car.

I’ll remember that face through whatever else happens tonight. It’s not a lot, but it’s something to think about other than whatever this is I’ve let my life become.

Thanks, Gunnar.

Chapter Two

Well, I’ve worked hard to stop being a man whohatesconstantly. It wasn’t easy, but I think with plenty of time and honest introspection, I’ve been relatively successful.

But I fucking hate everything that just happened.

Bearing witness to Tobias’s slow but steady implosion over the last year has been one of the most unpleasant, impotent experiences of my life. Every time I see him, I’m hit by a Mack truck-sized urge to do something—anything—to help him escape the pit he’s fallen into, and every time I’m immediately reminded that I’m utterly powerless in this situation.

I can’t help him unless he wants help. Until then, I can only watch. And try to be supportive in whatever ways a casual acquaintance can be.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?”

A deep voice interrupts my spinning thoughts, and I snap my attention away from the door Tobias disappeared through several minutes ago. Sav, my new barback, is staring at me, notbothering to hide the concern in his eyes, even if he is smiling at his own joke at the same time.

“I’ll give you three guesses, but you’re only going to need one. Your BFF was here again.”

All traces of humor fall from Sav’s face. If there’s anyone here who hates Eamon more than me, it’s him. I don’t know why, but I’m sure he has his reasons. All of which fall under the general umbrella of Eamon being a selfish, arrogant, abusive piece of shit.

“Was he looking for me?”

“Not this time. He came for the kid.”

I try not to say Tobias’s name out loud too often. I know it’s irrational, but I worry that something about the way I say it or some expression I make might give away how overly involved I am with this one.

I have plenty of people in my life who I helped get out of shitty situations they didn’t deserve to be in. Not because I’m some sort of hero; it’s just my thing. It’s the only thing that lets me sleep at night, if I’m being honest. I have enough to redeem myself for. But I’m known for collecting strays.

Kasia was one; when I first moved back here, and she was escaping from her own shitty, abusive relationship. Sav is another, although he’s still pretty new and I don’t know the details of what he’s got going on. All I know is he’s got the same Banna snake tattoo as Eamon and Tobias, which means he’s gang-affiliated, but he’s also got a lot more tattoos that screamextremely-fucking-affiliated, and he came in here one day, begging for someone to give him a break on a normal job. A normal life. So, if he’s not free from it already, he must be trying.

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