Page 42 of Bad Blood Wolf

Chapter 15

Brody tried all day Monday to get hold of Jasmin. It was a busy day at the office, trying to get everything done before the Christmas holiday.

He’d never cared less about his job.

Brody felt even more out of place today than usual. And not just because Bastian’s buddy Jimmy worked in the same division, and was still limping a little from the ligaments Brody had torn in his knee Friday night.

Not that the fucker didn’t deserve it.

No, Brody was used to murderous looks and barely concealed aggression.

It was the office itself. It felt claustrophobic, with its recycled air and bland furnishings. Brody found himself longing for fresh air, the smell of the forest.

It took him until noon to realize that when he pictured all that, he wasn’t picturing the forest around the Nashville compound.

He was picturing Bad Blood territory. Already, his wolf was feeling like he belonged there.

Which sucked for him, if Jasmin had been so pissed about his leaving last night without telling her where he was going, that she decided he wasn’t worth it.

Ah, hell, he knew he wasn’t. He’d just held onto a thread of hope she wouldn’t figure that out.

After three calls went straight to voice mail, he resorted to texts. Still nothing.

Maybe she’d be at the fights tonight. It was the first time he’d ever looked forward to them.

She never showed.

The fight organizer was pissed—the Demon Queen was a major draw, and he had a real brawler lined up to fight her.

One look at that guy made Brody glad she wasn’t here, despite the ripped-up feeling in his chest that had just gotten worse with every unanswered message.

This wolf was even crazier than most of the guys they put her in the cage with, and he was no casual fighter. He was a pro—ex-military maybe—and looked lethal as shit. He shouldn’t even be here—this was amateur only.

And the way Bastian was stomping around, looking even more pissed than the organizer, Brody could smell his cowardly little paws all over this. He’d been planning to take Jasmin down. Have this guy hurt her bad, at the very least. Maybe even kill her.

He just hoped to hell they didn’t put the fucker in the cage against him. Because he’d have no chance, especially distracted like this.

He debated shooting up again before his own fight. The headaches had subsided, but he could still feel Monster Wolf lurking there under the surface. If he busted out during one of Brody’s fights—well, that would be the end in more ways than one. If the fight organizers didn’t shoot him right here, he’d have to run—and keep running.

But if Bastian pulled the kind of shit on Brody he’d been planning to pull on Jasmin, he might need Monster Wolf to save his life.

Jasmin looked at her phone for approximately the hundredth time that day. Brody was doing what Brody did—hanging on until his opponent gave in.

Opponent.

That wasn’t what she was supposed to be. They weren’t supposed to be adversaries.

He was supposed to be her boyfriend. Lover. Whatever. So why the hell couldn’t he be honest with her?

On the other hand, how could he be honest with her if she wouldn’t talk to him?

Not talking to him made her chest hurt again. Made her jag crazy. So did knowing he was hurting too.

She’d waited all day, hoping Tristan would get back to them with the information about the drugs Brody was buying, so she’d at least have some idea what she was dealing with.

Some idea, when she talked to him, of whether he was lying through his damn wolfy teeth.

Fuck.