Page 11 of Bad Blood Wolf

“The usual,” Sloan said. “Death. Drowning in the well, to be specific.”

“Nice. Points for creativity.”

Jasmin picked up the coffee and the omelet plate and started up the curving stairs, heading for Flynn’s quarters. As the alpha, he had the master suite in the loft. There was a balcony/office, and then a bedroom and bath behind glass walls, which could be tinted for privacy or clear to take advantage of the views out the windows set in the peaked roof.

Right now they were tinted as dark as they would go.

Jasmin, hands full, kicked the door a couple of times by way of knocking.

Flynn’s grumpy voice came from inside. “You can’t come in. I’m naked.”

Jasmin shoved the door open with her foot. “Like you fucking care. You wouldn’t wear clothes at all if we didn’t give you so much shit about having to look at your pink shriveled dick.”

She walked in, her cat’s eyes adjusting to the dimness. Flynn was, indeed, naked, lying on the king-sized bed writing on a legal pad in a small pool of light from a desk lamp.

“Dude. Cover up the junk, would you?”

Flynn sighed and pulled a sheet over himself. “What do you want?”

“For you to eat.” She handed him the plate and set the coffee cup on his nightstand. Then she perched on the side of the bed.

Flynn picked up the fork, looking at her suspiciously. “You don’t make breakfast.”

“You were sulking, and Sloan was mangling the eggs. Desperate times, desperate measures.”

He gave a snort and a half-grin. “Sucker. Better be careful, you’ll go all soft and motherly on us any minute.”

“Fuck you.”

Flynn started shoveling eggs into his face. It was good to see him eat. Flynn was having trouble adjusting to being alpha, despite having an outsized sense of responsibility and a caring streak he tried his damnedest to hide. He’d been landed with this messed-up crew by default, and he was doing his best by them, but she knew he had demons of his own he was battling.

That meant he drank way too much, and spent way too much time alone. She wished he’d realize how much he needed the crew—and how much the others needed him.

He was the glue that held the crew together.

He took a gulp of coffee. “So what do you really want, Jungle Kitty?”

And he was almost impossible to fool.

“What would you say would make somebody need about two thousand a week, cash, and make them scared when they didn’t have it?” she asked.

Flynn raised his eyebrows, then frowned. “The usual,” he said. “Drugs. Gambling debts. Some other kind of debt that makes somebody borrow from loan sharks, like bringing illegal relatives into the country. Blackmail.”

Shit. She’d never even thought about blackmail. What the hell was Brody into?

“Can I borrow your truck again tonight?” she asked. “I need to meet some people at a bar.”

Flynn eyed her, taking another drink of coffee. “Any of them the people who did that to your face?”

Jasmin shrugged. “I need to help out a friend.”

“The kind of friend who needs a shit-ton of cash?”

She shrugged again.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Okay then, yeah.”