DeathMoth, Rafe’s and Dakota’s punk rock group, has a rehearsal today at Collateral Damage, and we’re taking advantage to check the technical aspects—mics and speakers, deciding if to place a raised stage or not, where the cables will go.

I’m taking notes, nodding as the technician explains things to me. In theory, I’m in charge of this event, but Megan has more or less taken over the organization.

Just as well, since I can’t remember a word the technician has told me and my notes consist of depressing doodles. My mind hasn’t been on work ever since the night Jason helped save me from the attack in the alley.

The last time I saw him. I’ve gone looking for him, every morning before work, every evening after, but he’s not to be found at his usual spots. I tried tracking down the people I sometimes see him talking to—a lanky guy, a girl with spiky hair—but it’s as if the ground opened up and swallowed them all.

I shiver.

Rafe gestures at me, and I realize he’s been calling my name.

Shit.

“Excuse me,” I tell the technician and head toward the group.

Rafe Vestri is dressed in worn jeans and a faded blue T-shirt, the silver hoops in his ears glinting, his short blond hair standing up in spikes. He’s hot. All the Brotherhood members are hot.

Not like Jason, though.

Dammit, and now my thoughts are back on him, when I should at least pretend to listen to the owner of the shop where I work.

“You got the arrangement of the stalls handy?” Rafe is asking, toying with the sticks in his hands, his set of gleaming drums still vibrating from their last session. “I wanna check where Soul Stain are sitting.”

“Beside Zane and Ocean.” Thankfully I know this much, and I have the plan in my pocket. I pull it out. “Then we have some jewelry and clothes stalls to ensure the crowd mingles, and then the stalls of the other Damage Control inkers.”

He takes the plan from my hand and frowns at it. “Okay, this looks good. Jesse and Micah are coming back tomorrow from Chicago. Talk to them to see how they wanna be seated. And, Raine?”

“Hm?” I blink at him, obsessed with the fact that Jesse Lee will be back soon, and I can finally ask him about Simon Gomez.

And about Jason.

“What’s going on with you?” Rafe asks. He grips my arm, and I consciously don’t shrug him off. Rafe’s a big guy, tall and super muscular, much stronger than me. “You know you can talk to us, right? To me.”

Somehow the thought of bending our heads together and having a heart-to-heart isn’t something I can see in my mind’s eye, no matter how well he means.

“I know,” I lie.

“Something’s weighing on you.” He gives me a long look, as if he can read my mind, his amber eyes cat-like in the low lights. Creepy. “You’ve been here for a while, and you go out with us for beers and shit, but you always keep your distance somehow.”

“Sorry.” I take a step back and his hand drops to his side. “I’ll focus more. I know I’m here as a favor to my brother, and—”

“Whoa. That’s what you think?”

I stare. “But…”

“We hired you because you gave a hell of an interview. You have the right skills, and are pleasant to customers. And you’ve been doing a good job of it, too. Until these past couple of weeks.” He leans closer, eyes narrowed. “We’re worried about you, Raine, not angry. We want to think we’re a family, not just a shop. If you need help with anything, we’re here for you. Got it?”

“Got it,” I whisper, and think about what Ocean said. That these guys have my back, our back. That we’re not alone.

But if dear old Dad brings in the mafia… If it all goes to hell, will our friends not back away? I wouldn’t blame them. They have their girls and kids to worry about.

Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.

Gary calls in the evening, as I finish up work at the movie theater. I know because I demand to know who it is, not because I saved his number in my phone or anything.

Awkward.

“So, hey,” he says with such a cheerful voice it hurts my ears. “I’ve been thinking about you. You haven’t returned my calls or messages, so I hesitated to do this. I mean, is it okay? That I called again?”

“Um, sure.” Should I apologize for not calling back before? Or be pissed he doesn’t seem to be getting the hint? “Look, Gary…”

“Before you say anything, hear me out. Please.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and swallow a sigh. “I’m listening.”

I mean, I walked out on the guy in the nice restaurant where he’d invited me for dinner. Least I can do is give him a few minutes of my time.

“I really like you, Raine. You’re hot, you’re intelligent, you’re funny.”

I pull the phone away from my ear, stare at it. Is he talking about me? Laying it a bit thick, aren’t you, Gary?

My impression at the restaurant was rather that he was embarrassed to be seen with an uncivilized animal such as me. Though he seemed to be down for wild, hot sex with this bad boy, anyway.

When I put the phone back to listen, he’s saying, “…another chance. A coffee, maybe? Nothing committing. Just to chat and get to know each other more.”

Right. Should I give it another try? He’s persistent, I’ll give him that. Polite. He wasn’t bad looking, either. He was…

Not for me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sorry, Gary.”

A silence.

“I see.” Another silence, shorter this time. “Is there another guy in the picture?”

“Maybe,” I admit.

Holy shit. The moment the word leaves my mouth, I realize this isn’t a lie to soothe Gary’s pride. There is another guy. If only I can find him and talk to him.

“We could be friends,” he says, his voice subdued. “We could—”

“Look, I got to go. Thanks for calling. And good luck.”

Days pass. The wound in my side has scabbed over. My worry has gone up a few more notches. Jason is a no show. Again. Where the hell is he?

With a customer, of course. What did you think, dickhead?

Or something happened to him.

I tell the twisty feeling in my gut that he’s fine. It was pure luck that I happened across him so often the previous weeks. Doesn’t mean he should hang around in case I pass by. Maybe he’s avoiding me, after I was such an ass to him last time.

My phone chirps with a message, and I check it quickly, not even sure why. Not like Jason has my number. Not like he’d text me if he did.

Christ, Raine.

The text is from Jesse. Says to join him and the guys at Halo, their favorite bar.

I consider refusing. What I really want to do is keep cruising, keep looking, and to hell with logic. That feeling in my chest won’t let up and I don’t think I’ll be good company tonight.

Then again… Jesse will be there. What if he has Jason’s number? What if he knows where Jason is?

That cinches the deal. One last pass, checking every corner, every shadow, and I swing the truck around.

Time to finally get some answers.

“Simon Gomez.” Jesse spits out the word like a broken tooth. “What about him? He was released from prison, went back to terrorizing the streets. He’s an MC leader, who’s controlling everything and everyone crossing through his area.”

“Drugs?” Shane asks, tilting his head to the side and taking a sip from his beer.

“Drugs, weapons, human trafficking, sex, you name it. Question is, what’s your dad got to do with the damn MC and the Mexican mafia?”

Good question. “He was involved with shady types back in Milwaukee,” Ocean says. “Then he and Mom skipped town, remember? And nobody heard from them in three years. Now he’s back and who knows what he’s been doing during all this time?”

I nod and take a long gulp from my beer. God, I need something stronger.

“Let me tell you about Simon Gomez,” Jesse says and worries at the label on his beer bottle, green eyes shadowed. “He assaulted me many times when I lived on the street. He’s like a dog with a bone when he gets obsessed with something. And for a while, that was me.”

A cold shiver dances down my spine. Jesse’s normally a super confident, happy-go-lucky guy, but telling this tale seems hard on him.

“Once he smashed a bottle over my arm.” He turns said arm over, displaying a jumble of scars half covered in ink that I noticed a couple of times before. “Jason… Jason Vega, we used to work the streets together. He found me, and helped me, added me to his gang and decided I was his to protect. He insisted I report Simon, after what happened, but I chickened out for years. When I finally did, I managed to get him behind bars. Thing is…” He pushes the bottle away and runs a hand over the dark buzz of his head. “I was afraid for a while that he’d come after me once he was released from prison. But he never did.” Jesse frowns. “I asked Jason about it, if Simon ever gives him trouble these days. Jason says he doesn’t.”

“Then what’s his connection to the Club?” I ask.

“Jason’s?” Jesse narrows his eyes at me. “The Club is Simon’s HQ. Who said Jason has any connection to it?”

I wince. “I—”

“You talked to Jason,” Ocean says, clenching his bottle in his hand so tightly I’m surprised it hasn’t shattered yet. “What happened, R?”

I shake my head. “I need his phone number.” I turn to Jesse. “I’m sure you have it. I need to talk to him.”

“What for?” Ocean scowls at me. “You don’t get to harass him.”

“I won’t harass him. Jesus, Shun.” I push away from the table, my heart pounding, a mixture of shame and anger churning in my stomach. “I just need to talk to him.”

“You hate him.”

“I don’t hate him! I like him.”

Ringing silence greets my statement.

“Since when?” Seth asks, those shrewd dark eyes on me.

“I fucking knew it,” Micah crows from the other end of the table. He lifts his beer. “Go get him, tiger!”

“Fuck you. I like him, I don’t…”

I don’t love him.

My heart starts pounding harder. Now where is that coming from, huh?

I sit back down.

Ocean is staring hard at me, as if he can find his answers on my face. “Fine. I have his number, and I’ll give it to you. But first, have you seen him lately?”

Something in his tone makes me sit up from my slouch. “Why?”

“Because he won’t answer his phone, and he hasn’t come around to pick up the money I give him every month. I’m worried. I even checked with the police in case they picked him up, but nope.”

I don’t say anything. Shit. Jason stopped taking the money.

Ocean is staring at me. Waiting. Silence stretches between us, straining and aching.

In the end, it’s Jesse who asks the question. “You’ve met with Jason. Recently.”

Okay, not really a question, but still. “Yeah.”

“When?”

“Last time was the night I met Dad. He helped me escape from Simon’s men. I haven’t seen him since.” I lift my hands when Ocean opens his mouth to speak, his eyes shooting daggers at me. “I looked for him. Couldn’t find him.”

“If I’m here now,” Jesse Lee says, his voice rough, “if I’m sane enough to lead a normal life, I owe it to Jason. If you as much as touch a hair on his head…”

We did a lot more than just touching, I want to tell him, but that’s not the point. “I wouldn’t hurt him.”

“Have you talked to Josie?” When I shake my head, he goes on, “She’s one of his gang. Girl with spiky short hair. I’ll explain to you where she hangs out.”

My brother who’s been silent all this while leans in again.

“Why should I believe you suddenly like him?” he asks, his voice deceptively quiet. “All this time you were so damn angry at him for no good reason, wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t talk to him—”

“I was wrong, okay? I think I just couldn’t understand…” Fuck, why do we need to have this convo now, with everyone listening in? “…why he got under my skin.”

“And now you do?”

Maybe. I think I’m starting to.

I’m also starting to think Jason is hiding a lot more than he lets on, that he’s in danger and that I inadvertently made things worse for him.

I need to find him right the hell now.

Following Jesse’s directions, I park outside a burger joint I never even noticed before and climb out of my truck. It’s late, and there’s a bite to the air. Smells like snow.

At first, I don’t notice her. I guess she’s not looking for a customer. She’s crouched down, doing something on her phone. Texting? The soft glow of the screen lights up her heavily made-up face.

“Josie?” I ask as I approach her, trying my best to look unthreatening as my six-foot-two shadow falls over her. “Jesse Lee said I’d find you here.”

She scrambles up to her feet on crazily high heels and gives me a wide-eyed look. Her mascara or shadow or whatever it is has run in black streaks down her cheeks. Up close, she looks like a kid, badly made up and scared.

“You’re Raine,” she surprises me by saying.

“How do you know my name?”

“Jason said to keep tabs on you. In case anyone tried to mug you.” She shrugs her bony shoulders. “Last week? I’m the one who told him that you were in danger.” She taps her chest. Her nails are painted bright red. “He came running over. Sent me away, said it might be dangerous. Got himself in a world of trouble over you.”

I blink. Her eyes are filling up with tears. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“He won’t tell me. But…” She sniffles and fishes a tissue out of her purse. She blows her nose. “He got me a bus ticket, and gave me an address in Chicago. Said I should go and that he’ll follow me later. To get away from Simon.”

I suck in a sharp breath. “Josie, did Simon hurt him? Does he hurt Jason?”

“He denies it, but it’s plain to see. He always returns beaten up and limping from that place, that Club.” She infuses the word with so much loathing. “Who will look out for him after I’m gone? There’s only Adam left, and he said Jason told him he’s getting him out of here. He’s sending us all away. Mayleen left, and now…”

Another sniffle.

Shit.

“Josie. Listen to me.” I reach for her, but she recoils and I drop my hand. “Is Jason okay? I need to talk to him. I promise I only want to help him.”

She gives me a long look that reminds me of the way Ocean stared at me tonight when I said I like Jason. Mistrust, that’s what it is.

Then she nods. “He has a thing for you, you know. Pretends he doesn’t care, but you’re the only guy he’s ever…” She waves her small hand, and I hold my breath. But she only sighs. “I’ll tell you where to find him.”

The only guy he’s ever… what? I obsess over this as I drive away and park in another part of town, closer to Jason’s usual haunts.

But then my focus shifts to finding him. I can’t see him when I park my truck. Can’t see anyone, in fact. I wonder if I misunderstood her directions, or if she lied to get rid of me. Still, I climb out of my truck and take another look around.

It’s a quiet street with a couple shuttered stores, a Brazilian Grill and a Lebanese restaurant with a Closed sign on the door. A rat scampers along the sidewalk, and I give a shiver. I’ve always hated rats. My greatest fear as a kid was that they’d eat my face as I slept in our trailer.

With my eyes, I follow the rat’s progress past the restaurant and one of the shops, when I finally spot him.

He’s curled up behind one of the massive pots the restaurant has placed on either side of the entrance, hidden from the street.

“Jason!” I call his name as I start toward him, but he doesn’t move. Maybe he’s asleep? I reach his side and squat down beside him. “Jason.”

“What?” he mutters and uncurls a little when I touch his face. He groans, his eyes hazy. His skin is cold, his face mottled with bruises.

“Christ, Jason.” My chest squeezes with worry. His clothes are encrusted with blood and muck. He stinks of old trash, puke, sweat, and sex. “Can you stand?”

His eyes are on me now, still unfocused. “Why do you keep coming back?” he whispers. His lips are cracked. “Wasting your time with a cheap fucking whore like me.”

“Shut up, Jason.” I press my lips together. “Just… come with me.”

I wrap my arms around his back, lifting him to his feet, and he sways against me. He looks like shit, his face pale, his eyes bloodshot.

He’s lost more weight over the past week. He’s so thin his cheekbones jut out like blades. It fucking scares me.

I want to crush him to me. I want to take care of him.

Yeah, I’m starting to understand how I feel about Jason Vega, and it makes no sense. After all this time, I barely know him. I’ve barely spoken to him. I don’t know his favorite color, what kind of music he likes, if he snores and if he separates M&Ms by color before eating them.

But I know he looked after Jesse Lee when he was in trouble. That he’s looking after his gang, sending them away to protect them. That he threw himself into a fight to save me, even though it looks like it got him into real deep shit.

And I realize that’s all I need to know.

“You’re worth it,” I tell him, looking straight into those wide, beautiful dark eyes of his. “I want to take care of you, and I’m not going to stop. Like you took care of me and my own. Now get into the damn truck. I’m taking you home.”