Bad Wolf(56)

She slings one arm around his shoulders, and he puts an arm around her waist, his face blank.

That blankness scares me. I need to chase it away, make him acknowledge what he feels. Accept some comfort.

"If you need anything," Mom says, "call me. And Gigi, get some tea and cookies into this young man. He needs to eat."

Jarett doesn't even blink.

Mom hobbles out, and the doorbell rings a minute later. I hear the happiness in her voice, Paul's deeper voice. Then they're gone.

I drag my chair closer to Jarett and put my arms around him. "Tell me about her."

"What?" he whispers. His deep voice still has that faint quality about it, as if he hasn't been able to catch his breath all day.

"About your mom. Tell me about her."

His body is stiff like a board where I'm holding him, his muscles strung tight with tension. He stares at me like he doesn't understand my language.

Then he wraps an arm around me and hauls me up and onto his lap. I hug him, and he props his chin on my shoulder. "She was great. Tried to make me fit in, but once a misfit, always a misfit, you know? She tried to get me to quit smoking, to avoid fighting. Told me to call her Mom, but I never did."

"She sounds great," I say, muffled by his shoulder. "A good mom."

"She was. I dreamed of her this morning. She told me …  she said to remember."

"Remember what?"

"Everything," he whispers. "Remember everything, so I could turn my life around. That was her last gift to me."



"I have to go," he says, shrugging on his jacket. "I have to, Gigi."

It's late at night, and we've spent hours curled together on the sofa, watching mindless TV. His hands are warm now, his face not so pale. He looks much better.

And determined to go look for Sebastian at the gang's meeting place.

"Please, don't." I want to hang on to him, stop him. "I have a bad feeling. Call him again. He has to answer, sooner or later."

"The funeral is tomorrow."

Crap. "Family is not only the one given to you, Jarett. I can be your family. My family can be your family. Staying in that gang will get you killed. I don't want you to die. That's what your family should want for you: to live."

"Listen to me." He looks serious as he takes my hands in his. "I'm leaving the gang. And I'll find a way to get Seb out, too. But right now, I have to find him. Like you found me. He needs to know about his mom from me."

That makes sense. And hope fills me like warm air, lifting me up, because this is the first time he has talked about the future. "Okay. Go find him. Then come back to me."

"I will, I promise. Sooner or later, I'm always coming back to you, Gigi."

There's music playing in my head, a sweet melody. I swear I can hear it. It comes from inside my head, inside my heart. I look at his bowed head, his lashes throwing long shadows on his cheeks, and I love him more than ever.





Chapter Thirty-Four





Jarett





The backroom of the bar where the gang usually meets is empty. I give another call to Seb, but it goes unanswered.

The bartender shoots me a dirty look when I come back out. "Nobody's here."

"Yeah, I noticed. Any idea where they all are?"

"All of you should stay the hell away from here. The police came around sniffing the other day, asking about your gang. I don't need no cops in my goddamn business-"

I slam my fist on the bar, rattling the glasses he's been drying. "Where. Are. They?"

"Had a big job coming up, so Angel said." His hands flutter anxiously, gaze skittering to the door behind me, as if expecting someone to come in and save him from me. "Some huge deal. Everyone was stressed for days."

Ah fuck. The big job Angel was talking about is tonight?

Reaching over the bar, I grab the front of his shirt. "Where? Think."

"What? Oh no, I don't know. They didn't say."

"I said, think." I shake him. My gun is a warm weight in the small of my back, and I fight the urge to pull it out. "You probably eavesdropped on the whole thing, didn't you, you filthy little shit? Where are they?"                       
       
           



       

"A warehouse downtown." His jowls jiggle when I shake him again. "Jesus, okay. I'll give you the address, just let go."

I release him, and he stumbles backward, straightening his shirt. "I'm all ears."

"You all wanna get killed, don't you?" He sighs. "Fine by me. At least we'll get some fucking quiet in here."



When I climb out of the cab, I'm disoriented for a few long minutes in the dark. The place looks abandoned, no cars or trucks parked in the lot, just some junk piled up in the corners. The warehouses loom in a long row, like dark, sleeping dogs.

Okay, I'm here, so what do I do? Is the job going down now, is it over, is it still to come?

And who's their watchman now that I'm not around? Jorge probably. Or maybe Elena. Or Shem, if he's still around.

I text Seb.

‘Seb, leave before it's too late. Get out of there.' I hesitate, then type, ‘I can't lose you, too.'

Not after Mom passing. He's an ass, but he's my brother.

Of course I get no reply. I pace in the yard, the phone clutched in my hand. It's too cold to just sit and wait, an icy wind howling down the yard and whistling between the warehouses.

My phone pings. A message from Seb.

It just says, ‘Trap. Don't come.'

What the fuck? I stare at the words until my brain can process them. Shit.

‘Where are you?' I type, my fingers uncoordinated, so that I have to fucking delete and rewrite everything twice.

But nothing more comes back from Seb. I stand in the cold wind, gazing at the fucking warehouses, my heart hammering.

Of course I'm not staying away. I have to find him, get him out.

Move it, Jarett.

So I start searching, try the warehouses doors one by one, circling them and looking for ways in. One is locked up. One opens, but only rats scuttle around. Another is locked, but I look through a broken window and see only darkness inside.

I'm making progress, though. I can do this. I'll find him.

And then several bangs make me jump. Gunshots? The rat-tat-tat that follows sounds more like machine guns.

No fucking way. It has to be something else, I tell myself, as I run from warehouse to warehouse, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. I'll find him. I can still get him out.

More machine gun fire. Windows smash. Someone screams, not far from where I'm standing.

Jesus fucking Christ.

A figure runs in the dark, almost crashing into me. Pumped with adrenaline, I charge him and tackle him to the ground, sit on top of him.

"Get off me, fuck, get off me," he babbles, "God fuck … "

It's Jorge. "Where are the others? Where's Seb?"

"Always with Seb, Jesus, let me up, I have to go … "

"Go where? Where are the others?"

"It was a goddamn trap. They had a vendetta with Mav, wanted us out of their way. Gunned us down-"

"Where?" My breath is frozen in my chest. "Where's Seb? Jorge, where's Seb?"

"You go in there, you die."

I don't wanna be here. I wanna be with Gigi, in her arms, in her bed.

But I can't just leave my brother behind.

I grab Jorge's hair, lift his head. "Just tell me where!"

He points with a shaky finger. I let go of his hair, and his head flops down to the concrete. Getting up, my knee so stiff it's a miracle it holds me, I limp over to the warehouse he indicated, drawing my Glock from the back of my jeans as I go, and point it down as I push the back door open and enter.

The smell assaults me the moment I step foot inside. Something real fucking bad. Blood, and urine, and shit.

Christ. Where the hell are they? What do I hope to do? Would I kill for Seb?

Could I do it?

Cold sweat runs down my back, sticking my T-shirt to my skin under my jacket. My knee twinges. My shoulders ache. The gun is heavy in my hand.

I inch inside two more steps, and then I hear the wailing of sirens.

Holy fucking shit, the police.

The cars skid into the yard outside before I even have the chance to step back out. Cops pour inside, guns trained on me.

"Put the gun down. On your knees! Hands in the air!"

Shit. I comply, placing the Glock carefully down, holding my hands up. "I have to find my brother," I tell him. "There was a shoot-out."

A cop come to stand over me, a dark shadow. "We will check that out. You stay here."

"No fucking way. I'm going to find Seb-"

The cop aims his gun down, right at my head. "Don't fucking move. Hands behind your head."

Fuck, fuck, fuck …

I lace my hands behind my head as more cops pour inside.

Time slows down, stretching like molasses, crisscrossing the night. I'm caught like a fly in a web, unable to move, unable to think. I barely feel the cold, or the hard concrete under my knees.                       
       
           



       

Seb will be fine. Yeah, he'll be fine. They'll escort him here, we'll talk, and I'll convince him to walk away. Leave the gang. Turn over a new leaf.