Page 21 of Wild Card (Foster Bro Code #2)

Axel

I rapped the bar next to my shot glass. “Hit me.”

Leo hitched one eyebrow but didn’t comment. It was my third night at Ball Breakers, and he most likely knew there was no deterring me.

He picked up the tequila bottle and poured. Beautiful, golden liquid spilled into my shot glass.

I tipped it into my mouth. If the liquor burned going down, I didn’t notice it. I was four shots in and almost numb enough to forget the look in Dalton’s eyes when he bailed on me.

He’d texted to apologize. That was such a Dalton move. I was sure he even meant it. But his apology didn’t take back the truth in his words. I wasn’t worth the trouble I’d cost him, and we both knew it.

“Axel, where have you been, man?” Jett slapped my back hard enough to make me wince. “This place has been boring without you.”

I turned, hitching on a grin. “Just dealing with bullshit. You know how that is.”

“Yup.” Jett leaned his forearms on the bar, dipping his head toward mine. “Last game ended early. Got a lot of players looking for another round. What do you think?”

“That’s fast.”

“I know, but if they’re so eager to give us their money…” He shrugged. “What can you do?”

I laughed. “Hard to argue with that.”

He grinned sharply. “You find the venue. I’ll take care of the booze again.”

I rolled my eyes. Jett always made me get the venue because he knew the junkyard would serve if I couldn’t find one.

I’d held a few poker nights out there when we first started doing this—before Dalton started asking questions about rumors he’d heard—and it was an ideal location.

But running illegal gambling on my own property was just asking for trouble.

Jett’s gaze shifted over my shoulder. “Okay, business done. Now on to pleasure. Keep it loose, Ax.”

He was eyeing up a redhead in short ratty shorts, a tube top that barely contained her breasts, and fuck-me red lipstick that highlighted a wide, flirty smile. Not my type, but definitely right up Jett’s alley.

I turned back to Leo and tapped the bar. “Another.”

Leo gave me a long, measuring look. No doubt he was gauging the money I was pissing away versus how much damage I’d do if I got totally trashed. I’d started more than one bar fight here, though he hadn’t banned me yet.

Money must have won out. Leo poured another shot. This time, he grabbed a beer from the cooler and set it beside my glass.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a chaser. You drink it after a shot. Try it out.”

“Funny.” I reached for the shot but paused as an idea occurred to me. “Hey, Leo. You like making money?—”

“No.”

“No? You haven’t even heard what I’m gonna say.”

“I got ears. You want to make trouble, go do it somewhere else. My bar isn’t gonna get shut down for Jett Michaelson.”

I snorted. “You got something against Jett?”

“He’s a loose cannon. Always ready to go off.” He shook his head. “I steer clear of his bullshit. You should too.”

That was the most Leo had ever spoken to me—other than yelling at me to get the hell out of his bar when a fight erupted. He was the stoic type.

I chuckled. “Usually, that’s what people say about me.”

“Nah. You’ve got people you care about,” Leo said, eyes flicking past my shoulder. “What’ll it be, Gray?”

My brother leaned in and swiped my shot glass. “Looks like I’m all set for now.”

Leo nodded approvingly and moved away.

“That’s my drink, fucker.”

Gray poured my beautiful tequila down his gullet, then stole my fucking beer, too, and took a big swallow.

I snatched it back from him. “Are you done robbing me?”

“Well, I don’t know. Are you done drinking yourself under the table?”

“I can hold my liquor,” I said, pushing off the stool to walk away. The room lurched, and I grabbed the bar to stay on my feet.

Gray scoffed. “Looks like the liquor is holding you. Did you even notice me and Bailey come in? We’ve been watching you drink yourself half to death for the past hour. You’re lucky Holden isn’t here.”

I laughed. “Oh no, is Daddy gonna be mad?”

Gray scrunched up his face. “Don’t ever call him Daddy again.”

I shuddered. The alcohol had clouded my judgment there. “Yeah, that was just wrong. Maybe I am a little drunk.”

I scanned the room. Bailey was working the pool tables. No surprise there.

Gray led me to a nearby table, and I dropped heavily into the chair. The booze was hitting hard now.

Not like it was a surprise. I’d come to Ball Breakers with one mission: drink until I didn’t think or feel anything. I was well on my way to success when Leo and my brother conspired against me.

Gray pushed a glass of water that must have been Bailey’s toward me. “What’s going on with you? You haven’t hit it this hard in a while.”

I defiantly took another swallow of beer, even as my body cried out for that water. “Just having fun.”

“By drinking alone? Try again.”

I flipped him the bird. “Wouldn’t have been alone all night.”

“Oh?” He braced his elbows on the table and leaned in. “Is Dalton coming by?”

I sneered. “Dalton is no concern of mine.”

“So, this is about him.”

“Nope.” I gave in and grabbed the water to slurp some down. “Stop worrying so much. You’re gonna give yourself gray hair.” I laughed. “Gray with the gray hair. That’s funny.”

He rolled his eyes. “Hilarious.”

I looked around the pool hall. Maybe if I found a hookup, I could shake off my brother.

My gaze bounced from a trucker type working his way through a basket of wings—good-looking in that rugged, unkempt way—to a curvy blonde bent over the pool table.

Her date was all over her, ostensibly showing her how to play.

They might as well fuck right on that table, though, for all that she was going to learn.

I considered joining them. I could win her away from him. Or hell, maybe just fuck the both of them. More likely, he’d get pissed when I moved in and give me a good fight. The thought of punching something, of the rush of adrenaline I’d get as I took my first hit, was mighty tempting.

“Axel?” Gray prompted. “Are you listening to me?”

I snapped my gaze back to my brother. “You’re killing my mojo, man. How am I supposed to find a hookup with you yammering in my ear?”

“You don’t need a hookup,” he said dismissively.

I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t know what I need.”

It was mostly lip service. I’d been more excited about the idea of fighting than fucking, anyway. And my brother would never let me start a bar brawl without involving himself. I couldn’t drag him and Bailey into a jail cell with me, so that was off the table.

Gray sat back and crossed his arms. “You’ve been obsessed with Dalton for weeks. You telling me that you’re going to sabotage it at the first sign of trouble?”

“There’s nothing to sabotage.” I went back to my beer. “Get me another shot, or change the fucking subject.”

“Fine,” Gray said. “Why were you so against the idea of starting a rescue program? If there’s funding out there, and you can do what you love?—”

“With a bunch of regulations I’ll probably just fuck up?” I finished off the beer. “No, thanks.”

“Seriously?” Bailey said.

“When the fuck did you come to the table?” I muttered, disoriented for a minute.

Bailey pushed a basket of nachos toward me. “I just got here. Want some?”

I figured he was trying to get me to soak up the booze, but they looked good, so I didn’t call him on his shit.

I scooped up a chip covered in beef, melted cheese, and sour cream.

Ah, yes. The original trash plate, if you thought about it.

A bunch of random ingredients tossed together for delicious results.

I downed three more chips covered in tasty slop.

“…don’t even know.”

I realized Bailey had been speaking to me. “Huh?”

Bailey rolled his eyes. “Dude, how drunk are you?”

“Not drunk enough,” I muttered.

“I was saying, you don’t even know what would be required. You gave up without even getting all the information.”

I shrugged. “Money always comes with strings.”

“So what?” Bailey demanded. “Isn’t Banshee worth a few strings? What about Sugar and Taz, huh?”

“They’re all just fine the way things are now. Why fix what ain’t broke?”

“It is broken,” Gray argued. “That’s what started you down this road. Remember the dognapping? The almost arrest? The underfunded shelter? Dalton wanted to help protect you and these animals.”

Fucking Dalton. He’d acted like he cared, but then he’d walked away. Realized I was too much trouble. My phone was full of messages from him. But if he walked away once, he’d do it again.

“…out of it.”

“Yeah, it might be time…”

My brothers talked to each other, their words washing over me. I picked up my beer, but the damn bottle was empty. “Need another drink.”

I pushed back from the table, staggering as I stood up. Damn. I’d eaten the nachos. Drank the water. But the room still spun any-fucking-way. I’d gotten carried away with the tequila.

Gray grabbed my arm. “All right, let’s get you home.”

“’M fine,” I protested.

Bailey came up on my other side. “You should probably check on Banshee, right?”

“She’s not with Holden?” Gray said, surprised.

“Left her cozied up with Sugar motherin’ her,” I mumbled. “She’s fine.”

Cool air hit my face as my brothers distracted me just long enough to get me outside. Damn it. I sucked in a lungful, my head clearing a little. I shook off Bailey, but Gray’s grip on my upper arm was like a vice.

He dragged me toward Holden’s GTO. He and Bailey must have come over together.

“Did Holden send you over here to check up on me?” I demanded. “I hate when he does that shit.”

“No. He didn’t know you were going out. Is that why you didn’t take Banshee over there tonight?”

“Fuck you, man. Of course not.”

Guilt prickled all along my skin. I’d almost taken her to Holden. They were bonding nicely, and I was happy to see it. But she really had been curled up with Sugar in my bed when I got ready to leave. She’d barely lifted her head when I went out the door, and I’d figured it was good for her.

She was settling down and trusting that she was safe.

But part of me had been glad because Holden was like a fucking mother hen, and he’d be full of questions about where I was going and whether he needed to worry about me.

Not that I’d escaped my meddling brothers, anyway.

“Sorry,” Gray said, sounding abashed. “I shouldn’t have suggested you’d ever do wrong by any of your animals.”

“No, you fucking shouldn’t have.”

My words lacked force. I was too tired and drunk to get riled up. My urge to fight had deserted me. The fun phase of being drunk was gone, leaving me wanting to find my bed and pass the fuck out.

Gray and Bailey got me into the back seat of the GTO. I slumped against the window and closed my eyes. In a blink, we were at the junkyard. I didn’t even remember climbing out of the car, but suddenly, we were outside my RV. Gray held me up while Bailey opened the door.

I staggered up the steps, banging into the doorframe with my shoulder and cursing. I made it two steps inside and tripped over Taz.

I crashed to the floor. “Sonuva!”

Gray leaned through the doorway. “You okay? Need help into bed?”

“Taz tripped me,” I muttered. “Tiny little demon.”

“Ha!” Gray said, voice triumphant. “I knew he was evil. Nice to see him unleash on someone else for a change.”

Taz, who’d been licking my hand, turned toward Gray with a snarl as if he’d understood him.

“Don’t drown in your vomit,” Gray said hurriedly. “Good night!”

He slammed the door shut.

I chuckled. “Good boy, Taz.”

Banshee nosed at my hair with concern, while Sugar huffed at the sight of me. Fucking Loki took a stroll over my back.

“All right, okay,” I muttered, pushing onto my hands and knees. “I’ll go to bed.”

With my whole crew of critters nudging me along—all while Sugar silently judged my drunk ass—I got to my feet and staggered the few steps to my bed.

I collapsed on top of the blankets. My dogs piled in around me.

They’d roast me alive, but I couldn’t muster the energy to strip down. I closed my eyes, ready to let sleep have me.

I’d finally stopped thinking about Dalton, at least. His big hands on my body, the crooked tilt of his smile, the single freckle on his neck that always drew my tongue.

Motherfucker. He was still in my fucking head, even now. I ought to?—

Blackness pulled me under.

My thoughts evaporated, and sleep took me hard.