Page 72 of Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

“No, it’s okay. You’re right, she’s sick.” Shit, I was probably drunk off my ass. I normally don’t talk about Mrs. Lowe, or my past, or about me, period. “It doesn’t matter. Can you cover for me tonight, or not?”

“Last time, Jarett. I mean it.” She tsks, and I realize that her crush on me is fading.

Good for her. I’m not worth her time.

What’s there to like, anyway? I’m a fuck-up. Been screwing up my life, and the lives of others, ever since the day I was born.

“What’s the fucking hold-up now?” Mav yells from behind me, and I almost drop the goddamn phone. “Ready to get to work, or do you maybe need more time with your girlfriend?”

“Not my girlfriend,” I mutter.

“Know what, Jarett? You’re on your own, and by the way, screw you,” Suzie hisses into the phone, and the call disconnects.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Just… fuck.”

Angel smirks at me. “Trouble in paradise?”

“No fucking trouble at all.” I stare at my phone for a long sec, trying to figure out how I managed to fuck this one up, then give up and drop it in my back pocket. “Let’s go.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Mav drawls, voice dripping acid, and turns to go, gesturing at the others who’re standing about, smoking. “Shall we?”

Sebastian flicks his cigarette away and glares at me as he straightens from his slouch against a car’s hood. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he mutters, loud enough for me to hear.

I ignore the motherfucker. After he pulled that knife on me and stole my money, what little patience I had with him is all gone. And I’m not even gonna point out we didn’t stop here for me, but to wait for Mav’s go ahead.

Fuck you, Seb.

Though considering I’m only here to make sure he makes it through tonight’s gig alive, isn’t that a fucking contradiction? Hilarious.

Yeah, Jarett, real funny the mess you put yourself into. Save your adopted brother’s skin, and rob a store. Bag of laughs.

My heart slams against my ribs as I fall into step behind the group, the Glock heavy at the back of my jeans, a sheathed knife chafing against the inside of my jacket pocket. Pulling out my pack of smokes, I light up, trying to steady my shaking hands.

Not my first rodeo, but we’ve been doing this more and more lately, and it’s fucking with my mind. I’m not a thief. I may have no morals left, but I want to think I still have some basic honesty in me, instilled by Connor, the only father figure I can remember—adopted, but who gives a shit about that, right? About blood ties and family trees. After years drifting inside the system, Connor took me in, and taught me things. How to use a gun and a knife, how to cook basic stuff, how to survive alone.

How to be a better person. A better man.

But above all, he gave me two tenets to live by: family is everything, and nobody is above the law.

So how the hell do I reconcile these two things?

Another doubt nags at me as I trudge after the gang who has fallen quiet as we wind through narrow streets. I draw smoke into my lungs, thinking.

Like, did Connor know what he was talking about? What did he base his slogans on? I have been wondering about that since his death. He had no family to speak of, and the law he upheld let him down.

I guess the law is above everyone, but can’t keep everyone alive. So if the law is weak… how do you survive by being lawful? By following the weaker side, how do you survive? Connor taught me survival. He taught me to protect my family at all cost.

So what would he say knowing I’m protecting my family at the cost of the law and other people?

Shit. I run a hand through my hair and do my best to release the tension gathering in my shoulders, at the base of my skull, a vise of pain pressing around my head.

“Okay, here we are,” Angel says. “Take your positions. Jarett, Shem outside. The rest of you are coming in with me.”

“Pussy,” one of Mav’s latest recruits, Declan, spits at me as he walks by me to join Mav. “Keeping your ass safe and cozy, huh?”

“Fuck you.” My fists clench, itching to knock that sneer off his ugly face.

“What did you say?” Ugly Declan turns back toward me. I’m giving him what he wants, but I’m still pissed, and confused, which makes it worse. “I’m gonna rearrange your face.”

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