Bad Wolf(75)

"That was because I wanted to give you some privacy. I did get to see him, though." She wags her brows. "Very important detail."

"Why would we need privacy?"

"Don't know. Maybe because you were staring at each other like you were about to jump into bed together? And bickering," she continues before I can get a word in edgewise. "Can't forget the bickering. Major sign."

"We weren't bickering." I swallow the rest of my lukewarm coffee, my thoughts stuck on everything Jesse said today. "A sign for what, anyway?"

Embers. The name of his toy. The one thing that survived his childhood.

Why would that be the one thing he has from when he was little? Or rather had, since he lost it. Who is Helen? And why did he run away?

I interrupt whatever it is Kayla has been saying. "Have you seen a leather band lying around?"

"A leather band? Did you lose it here?" Kayla frowns, shakes her head. "Nope, can't say I've seen it. But hey, I do love the bracelet you're wearing now! Where did you get it?"                       
       
           



       

I lift my hand, small beads slipping like cool water over my wrist. "I made it." From my winter batch.

"You did? Are you serious?" She yips and grabs my wrist with her free hand to study the bracelet. "Oh my God! Can you make more? Do you sell them?"

"I can. I do." I laugh and pull my hand away. "I have loads. I'll show you later."

"Pinky promise?"

"Yeah, cross my heart." I sit at the table, trying to sort through my thoughts. "Hey, how well do you know the Damage Boyz?"

"Know? I wouldn't say I really know them." She slinks into the seat across from me, and my memory superimposes Jesse's long, muscled body over hers for a moment, until I blink. "But I do know a few things about them, if that's what you're asking."

"Yeah. Yeah, it is. Like … " I tilt my mug, stare at the dregs. "Ev told me a few things. Zane took some of them on as apprentices."

"Yeah. He and Rafe took them in off the streets." She gives a one-shoulder shrug. "The boys were homeless. Zane saw a talent in them, and he and Rafe decided to give them a chance. For a future, know what I mean?"

I nod. "So they were homeless. But what about their families?"

"Micah's an orphan. I don't know about the others."

A leather band. A toy. A mystery. "I'll ask Ev."

"You do that." Kayla squints at me. "Are you in love, Amber Walsh?"

"Oh God." I climb to my feet and put my mug in the sink. "What now, you saw a change in my heart line? Or maybe you've read my horoscope?"

"Don't be silly." She swirls her coffee. "Didn't have time to do that, and how can I see your heart line from here?"

"Then what?"

"Jesse was here, and now you're looking for a leather band that has to be his, and trying to find out more about him. Elementary, my dear Amber."





Chapter Eight





Jesse





The morning's unusually warm and humid. My T-shirt sticks to my back as I walk down the street and stop in front of Damage Control. I'm early, today being my cleaning shift, and I fumble with the key while rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Staying upright after a long, loud night at Jackass and Co.-which would be my apartment-is tricky.

Is it my apartment if I share it with three jerks? Do they even count as people?

Fucking tools. I'd be more lenient, but lack of sleep is getting to me. My eyes are itchy, my skin feels stretched too tight over my bones, and my brain is sluggish. Next, hallucinations, if memory serves-this isn't my first encounter with insomnia. Boy, so looking forward to that.

And on top of the exhaustion, I've got to work, and Zane's on my back to take on my first solo ink. Under his watchful eye, I've completed parts of tats on real skin, but doing it all on my own …

Dammit.

The key drops from my fingers, and I bend to get it. When I straighten, someone is standing right in front of me, and I jerk back.

What the hell, why the fuck should I be hallucinating Seth standing there with a dark frown on his face?

"Hey," Seth says, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. "Um. Whatcha doing here this early, J?"

"Oh, you know." I straighten, key clutched in my hand, digging into my palm, my mouth on autopilot. "I like to come in early and jerk off on the reception desk."

The hallucination in the form of Seth lifts a dark brow but doesn't look too impressed. Damn. I have to try harder.

"Have you ever noticed how Zane's tattoo gun looks like a dildo?" I wag the key at Seth. "Have you ever thought to try-?"

"No." The Seth hallucination winces. "No, dude. Seriously?"

"No, not seriously." I sigh, try the key again, and, miracle of miracles, it slides into the lock. "What do you think? It's my cleaning shift."

"No, actually, it's not." He follows me inside.

"Come again?" I stop in my tracks.

"Man, yours is tomorrow. Hate to tell you this, but today's mine. You came over here for nothing."

Oh, Jesus Fuck. "You serious right now?"

"Yep. Sorry, J. Not that I wouldn't mind swapping with you, but after my shift at the movie theater tonight, I plan on getting hammered and will need tomorrow morning to recover."

"What's tonight? Fuck." I kick at the carpet and jam my hands into my jeans pockets. I wander inside, following Seth. "Can't believe this."

Although, okay yeah, I'm tired. My memory's shot. Should've seen this coming.                       
       
           



       

"Hey, Seth?" I sink into one of the ugly-ass orange easy chairs beside the reception desk and rub my eyes. Amber's face flashes behind my eyelids, I hear her laugh in my mind, and God, I just wish I could be pressed to her right now. She'd feel so good, I think-and how fucked up is it that she's stuck on my mind? I blink, the shop returning around me. "About tonight, you said-"

I shoot to my feet. "Damn, are you okay? Seth!"

"Fuck." He's hunched over, clutching his shoulder, his face twisted in a grimace.

I'm by his side in two long strides. "What the hell's wrong?"

He hisses out a breath and slowly straightens. "I'm okay."

"Fuck that, a blind man can see you're not fucking okay. Is that the shoulder you dislocated?"

Dislocated when Evangeline's psychotic ex, Blake, found a way to get back to her by using her friends as punching bags.

He nods and lets me steer him to the stool inside Zane's workstation. "It'll pass."

"You shouldn't force it, man. Did the doctor clear you to mop and sweep?"

He shrugs, then groans and curses.

Right.

"What about your ribs? And the kidney bruising? Did you get checked?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." He starts to get up, scowling at the tattoo shop in general. "It's just the shoulder. Doc said it might hurt for a while longer."

"Listen." I let him get up, then grab him by the shoulders, making him yelp, and steer him toward the ugly orange chairs. "You sit there now."

"What the hell are you doing, J?"

"Your shoulder hurts. Mine doesn't. I'm here, and I got nothing to do. I'm too tired to argue about this, so don't say anything, okay? I'll clean."

"But tomorrow-"

"Yeah, I know. Tomorrow, too. Rest that shoulder, d'you hear me? Dr. J's orders."

"Dr. J, huh?" He snorts but doesn't resist when I push him down into the chair and go look for the mop, which tells me he has to be in a fair amount of pain, even if he doesn't admit to it.

Damn. He should tell Zane about it, but knowing how annoying Zane can be when he hovers, I understand why he hasn't.

"Dr. J, you coming tonight, right?" Seth asks after a while.

"Tonight." I dig through my stagnant memory for clues. Nothing comes up. "What's tonight? Was I invited?"

"It's guys' night out. Beer and pool. Damn right you were invited."

About to tell him to screw the beer and pool night because I'm not in the fucking mood, I hesitate.

Might as well go, I think as I fill up the bucket and carry it back to the main area of the shop. Sleep is impossible with Travis banging random chicks until the walls shake, Gage and his buddies hammered and yelling at each other, and Alex …  well Alex is quiet, but hell, the other two are enough.

Might as well get shitfaced. Then at least I know I'll pass out till morning.



Halo, the gang's favorite hang-out, is packed for a Tuesday night. It's also warm and stuffy inside, the smell of too many breaths and sweat steeped in alcohol overpowering the reek of fried fish tacos that clings to my clothes and skin.

It's late, and I don't feel like swinging by the apartment to change. Just wanna say hi to the guys, get a few beers in, head back and hit the sack.

I spot Ocean's head of blue hair at the back and head that way, pushing through the crowd. Loud music spills from the speakers. It's rock. Celtic rock, I decide, as I skirt a table with a rowdy group, barely avoiding a guy's fist as he swings it to give a friendly punch to his friend. At least I hope it's friendly.