Page 33 of The Evening Wolves

Tean twisted around. “Jem!”

“What? I never thought about the universe’s black, cold heart.”

“You,” Shaw said, “are more of a downer in the where-did-this-credit-card-bill-come-from-and-did-you-just-buy-those-shoes-and-I-thought-we-talked-about-this way.”

“Because we had talked about it.”

“It’s more of a boner killer than a boner, uh, enhancer? Inducer? Auggie, help me out here.”

“Engorger,” Auggie said without looking up from his phone.

Theo gave him a look.

“What?” Auggie murmured. “I’m being helpful.”

“He’s being very helpful,” Shaw agreed. “In fact, helpfulness is one of Auggie’s top ten sexiest traits—”

“I’m right fucking here!”

“Everyone stop talking,” Emery barked. He gave a kind of universal glare, and then, in a more controlled voice, said, “We were as careful as possible.” And he gave John-Henry a look that left no doubt how he felt about what that sentence actually meant.

North had scored the STILL GAY mug, beating Jem to it by a hair, and he picked it up now to take a noisy swallow of coffee—the words on the mug pointed in Jem’s direction—before saying, “And Shaw and I cleaned up their mess.”

“Hardly.”

But it was, technically, true. After finding the man known as Jace Vermilya under the trailer, John-Henry and Emery had, well, run. Their options had been limited at that point, and the risks had increased tremendously. North and Shaw had stayed to do a quick pass, making sure no obvious sign of their presence had been left behind before calling in the shooting from a burner. Emery had taken John-Henry’s shoes before he’d gotten in the Mustang, to dispose of the shoes and gloves where an inconvenient search wouldn’t turn them up. Then, in stockinged feet, John-Henry had driven home. The night that followed had felt impossibly long, given the few hours remaining. His sleep had been fractured, his dreams full of jagged edges, and he’d woken sandy eyed, his whole body a pain point.

Tean squirmed a little. “But there are traffic lights and security cameras and neighbors, and it’s a small town, and people know each other—”

Jem squeezed Tean’s shoulder, and he cut off, unhappiness creasing his forehead.

“Talk about a boner killer,” North muttered into the mug.

“Got something to say?” Jem asked.

North took another long—and loud—drink of coffee as he scratched his temple with his middle finger.

“This is uncharted territory,” Emery began.

“Everyone’s trying to be kind,” John-Henry said. “But we all know Tean’s right. Last night, we took a huge risk.” Tiny ripples spread through the peppermint coffee, so he released the mug and folded his arms to hide his hands. “I want you to know that if things go wrong, I’m going to take full responsibility. I want you to keep your mouths shut and let me—”

“Good Christ,” North said. “Does he always act like this?”

“He has an overdeveloped sense of responsibility,” Emery said drily.

“How do you fuck?”

Jem burst out laughing.

John-Henry’s arms tightened across his chest. “I appreciate that you—”

“It’s a legitimate question,” North said over him. “He’s so fucking righteous and respectable and shit, how do you ever push his face into the mattress and dick him down?”

Tean’s eyes were huge. Shaw had melted off the chair in giggles. Auggie appeared to be hyperventilating into Theo’s shirt, and Theo, stroking Auggie’s back, was covering his mouth with one hand.

Even Emery was smiling—crooked, maybe even a bit wry. “We take turns.”

“Emery Hazard!”

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