Page 13 of Cold Foot Revenge (Wreck’s Mountains #7)

Dylan hated this. Hated it. Hated the thought of where she was right now.

He’d told himself a dozen times tonight that this was her livelihood, and he couldn’t be the controlling asshole who told her to quit her job because he had a problem with it.

He didn’t want those guys staring at her tits. Didn’t want them thinking they owned a part of her.

This life caused damage, and she was taking on damage with each shift she worked, and he couldn’t wrap his head around being okay with this.

He’d thought strippers made good money, so how had she gotten into a pattern of not being able to buy groceries?

Or taking herself out to eat? Her car was old and on its last legs if the sounds from the engine were anything to go by.

There was no way she owed on it still. Maybe she lived in a nice place that cost a lot of money that was draining her.

He stood and paced the hotel room again, locked his arms onto the sink and glared at himself in the mirror. He barely knew her.

The memory of how soft her legs were under his touch under the table at dinner flashed across his mind and he closed his eyes tightly.

Was this it? Was this what it had been like for Garret when he’d met Raynah?

Shifters had some kind of seductive power, right?

Maybe that’s what Roxy was doing to him.

With a sigh, Dylan pushed off the counter and grabbed his keys and his phone and left the room. As he hit the bottom floor exit, his phone vibrated, and he checked the screen, hoping it was a response from Roxy.

His brother’s name was glowing across the caller ID.

Crap.

He hesitated for a moment, just staring at it, and then looked around quickly, and answered in a low voice. “Hey, this isn’t a good time, can I—”

“No, no, no, no, you will not hang up on me you fuckin’ dipstick.”

Dylan pulled a face and ducked into the hotel restaurant. It looked empty, and indeed, there was only one table that had anyone at it. He waved to the bartender and gestured to a table in the back corner.

The bartender nodded. Sweet. Dylan muttered, “I didn’t do anything wrong to be called a dipstick.”

“Oh yeah? Where are you? Right now?”

Dylan pursed his lips and looked around as he sat at the table. “In a bar.”

“Yeah, and where is that bar located, Dylan?” Garret yelled.

Wincing, he pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment to aid the ringing there. “I’m assuming you talked to Tawk?”

“Tawk knows?” Garret barked out.

Aw dang. Dylan scrunched up his face and mouthed, whiskey neat , at the bartender.

The bartender smiled and nodded his head before he got to work.

“Um, did I say Tawk? I meant—”

“No more lying. I talked to our parents, Dylan , who apparently ate dinner with you today, Dylan , and were wondering why I didn’t come down with you for a visit, and you know what, Dylan ?

I’m wondering the exact same thing! I’m definitely wondering why I wasn’t fucking invited, and then it dawned on me.

You snuck away from Darby, and you haven’t answered any of my texts or calls for days, because you didn’t want me to know. Why is that, Dylan ?”

“Why do you keep saying my name like it’s a cuss word?” Dylan asked, stalling on answering.

The bartender set the drink on the table and Dylan handed him his credit card to start a tab. This lecture was probably going to be a long one. Unless…

“I met a girl.”

Garret was quiet for a three-count, and then asked, “A girl you’re dating?”

Oh hell yeah, this was working. Garret had always been easily distracted. “Mom and Dad didn’t tell you about her?”

“You introduced her to Mom and Dad?”

“Yep.”

Silence was thick on the other end. “And where did you meet this girl?”

“At a strip club.”

“Fuck off, Dylan.”

Dylan chuckled. “I’m serious. I met her at a strip club.”

“Facetime me, I want to see your stupid face. You sound like you’re telling the truth but I want to make sure.”

“I’m not Facetiming you, you stage five clinger. I’m really in a bar.”

“Quietest bar ever, huh?”

“Well, it’s a slow night here.”

“Where’s your stripper girlfriend? Stripping?”

Dylan clenched his jaw and then tossed the whiskey back and refused to answer.

“Oh shit, is she really stripping? Right now? Dylan, what is happening? You haven’t been to a strip club in forever. Wait. Is this a cry for help? What’s happening? Are you good, man?”

The bottom of the little shot glass tinked onto the wooden table.

He didn’t know how to answer that. Was he okay?

He was drinking more than normal here, and feeling like he was a little lost, and had about a million questions about the Grit-Bron Crew and what they had done to Garret.

He hadn’t worked through all of that yet though and wasn’t ready to talk about it. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Liar.”

“I’ll probably be home soon.”

“Still lies! Dylan, what’s happening? What are you into? It’s me, man. You can tell me anything.”

“I just need a few days, okay? My whole life has revolved around you for a long time, you know? I need some space to figure some stuff out.”

Oh, he knew how to maneuver around the truth with Garret.

On the other end of the line, Garret sighed. “What’s her name?”

“Roxy.”

“Is she from where we’re from?” Garret asked.

“Yeah, but you don’t know her.”

“Is she nice to you?” And that was one of the things he loved about his brother.

All of his friends he worked with back in Darby would’ve asked, “Is she hot?” And that answer would’ve mattered to them.

Not Garret though. He asked if she was nice to Dylan, and that was the answer that would truly matter to his brother.

“She’s got some damage. She doesn’t trust easily, but in the moments she lets her guard down…”

“What? Finish it.”

“She’s fucking beautiful.”

“Whooo,” Garret rumbled. “Been there.”

“With Raynah?”

“Yep. Do you need me?” Garret asked suddenly.

And Dylan thought about it. He thought about the heaviness in the Rabbit Hole, and about what Roxy had told him about Garret’s Turn.

Dylan knew Garret’s Maker. Kind of. It was a combination of a couple of scumbags named Leech and Grave.

His physical Maker was some bear shifter who had made a deal with a lab.

That or the lab was experimenting on him and taking the Turn doses from him.

Fuck, he couldn’t explain all this to Garret. Not yet.

“I’m good. I’ve seen Mom and Dad, I’ve seen the guys, I went out with them the other night and I’m supposed to hang with Andrew tonight. Stay with Raynah and Breah. Let me figure myself out for a bit,” Dylan said softly.

“I don’t like this.”

“What don’t you like?”

“You being far away.”

“See? Stage five clinger. We aren’t even twins, bro.”

“No, I just feel like something is off. I feel like something is wrong. I can’t shake it.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“See?” Garret asked. “That’s a shaky truth. What’s going on?”

“Gar,” Dylan warned. “I’m going to hang up if you keep baiting me into one of these emo talks. I’m good. Go ask Mom and Dad about Roxy. They loved her. I’m going to stay here and see what’s up with this girl for a while. I’ll check back in tomorrow.”

Yeah, he was deflecting, acting like he’d come here for a woman, but Garret had been worrying over him lately, and Dylan didn’t need that right now. He was here solving motherfuckin’ mysteries. And also paying some attention to Roxy, so it wasn’t a total lie. She did have a lot of his attention.

“I’m hanging up now,” Dylan announced.

“Love you, bro,” Garret said.

And Dylan spun the empty shot glass slowly on the coaster it sat on. What if something happened to him while he was hunting answers? What if this was the last thing Garret heard from him? “Stop being a loser.”

Dylan hung up the phone and glared at the phone screen. Annoyed, he texted Garret, Love you too bro . Send.

I knew it! Garret texted back immediately. You’re dying or something.

What? Stop being dramatic. Send.

You never say you love me back! I’m calling Mom.

Dylan snorted and put his phone away. Whatever. Mom would tell Garret how charming and amazing he was as always and then Garret would go get a blowjob or something from Raynah and shut up. He would be fine.

“Another?” the bartender asked.

“Nah, I better slow down. I’m going out with a friend tonight.”

“I’ll close out your tab then.” He ran his credit card and brought it back. “So, a stripper huh?”

“You have some mighty good hearing,” Dylan observed as he signed the tip slip.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been a bartender for a long time. You learn to pay attention and there isn’t a lot going on in here right now.”

“That or you’re a shifter,” Dylan said, resting his elbows on the table and looking up at the tall bartender.

He froze, and then a slow smile took his face. “A word of advice? If it’s Roxy from the Rabbit Hole you’re talking about, I would leave her alone.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Nope,” the bartender said, picking up the tip slip and his pen. “Just someone who made mistakes there. Those strippers are decoys.”

Dylan crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s a decoy?”

“They bring in a revolving door of questionable clients. It’s easy to get all wrapped up in a place like that. You think it’s a fantasy playground, but really, it’s a roach motel. There’s poison in the middle. I’ve never seen someone go in there and come out better, you know?”

“What’s it to you?” Dylan asked.

The bartender shrugged and then walked away. “Go get ate up. No skin off my back.”

“How do you know Roxy?” Dylan called.

“I don’t, but I can tell you how she dances.”

Fuck. Dylan clenched his fists and leaned back onto the table, trying to control the urge to hit the wooden surface. How many people in this town had seen her dancing?

Jealously was an ugly emotion, and Dylan hadn’t felt this in years.

That guy was wrong. Roxy wasn’t some decoy dragging him into the middle of the Rabbit Hole. On the contrary, she’d dragged him directly out of there as soon as she’d figured out who he was. She wasn’t like that guy thought. She probably wasn’t like how anyone in this town assumed.

Dylan made a tick sound behind his teeth and stood, then left. He needed to meet up with Andrew, but all he could think about was going to the Rabbit Hole to see Roxy, and make sure she was okay.

This town was getting to him.