Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)

“Your band. Need I say more? It’s a good thing Lynn wasn’t here.”

 

 

Jericho rubbed his eyes wearily. Denver was still at the festival, and Reno had gone out with April. Everyone else was asleep. “Can you just tell me what happened? I only had a couple of drinks; it doesn’t make sense.” He was growing tired of Austin’s elusive answers.

 

Austin rubbed his bristly chin and laced his fingers together. “One of the girls had drugs in her purse, and she slipped one in your drink.”

 

“Ah, Christ.”

 

Jericho had heard of some of the drugs human men used on women, but he’d never experienced it. Shifters were a little more resistant to drugs, and it required more to knock them out. It’s why he was awake and not still passed out in the bed. But the gap in his memory made him uneasy. He scooped up a forkful of corn and reluctantly took a bite before washing it down with water. “And?”

 

“Look, we’re all adults,” Austin began. “If you want to have sex in the house, that’s none of my business. But your buddies were using the game room upstairs like a brothel. That ain’t cool.”

 

Jericho snorted. “Joker? I doubt it. He’s shy.”

 

“I don’t give a damn about shy; that’s not the example I want to set for Trevor. He’s new to the pack and new to your band. I can’t stop him if he wants to be part of your group, but if you mess his head up—”

 

Jericho’s fork hit the plate with a clang, and he scooted his chair back. “Look, Chaz was the only bad influence in our band, and he’s out. I’m not going that route again. Trevor’s also a grown-ass man who can decide what the hell he wants in life, but yeah, I’m keeping my eye on him. I know what fame can do to your head, and I’ll keep him grounded. I’ll have a talk with the boys about our sessions and make sure we don’t have company in the future. You can bet that idea was all Ren’s. He’s a young wolf, and you know how horny they get.”

 

“Keep it under control, Jericho. I mean it.” Austin rubbed his face wearily. They were both sitting at the long kitchen table that was large enough to accommodate more pack members, should they ever get any. Austin had been taking his time adding to their pack. Some Shifters were all about size—and true, there was strength in numbers. But unless the Packmaster was a dictator, large packs became divided because of strong opinions.

 

“I’ll keep an eye on Trev,” Jericho said, knowing Trevor wasn’t the kind of guy who was going to fall prey to the rocker lifestyle. “Joker knows he’s in the doghouse because of this, so you can bet he’ll give Ren an earful before I get a hold of him. You don’t have to worry about Trevor. I know his type, and that’s not his scene.”

 

“It sure didn’t seem to be Izzy’s scene,” Austin said offhandedly.

 

He slowly lifted his eyes, struggling to speak. “Say again?”

 

“I think she decked one of those girls on the lawn. That’s what Ben saw from the window.”

 

Jericho lurched forward and seized Austin’s arm. “What the hell happened?”

 

“She walked in on you and that woman.”

 

“Walked in on us doing what? Oh, fuck!” he said, leaning back and tunneling his fingers through his long hair.

 

“Yeah. Some girl was half-naked on top of you, and Izzy didn’t look too happy. Good thing you two aren’t mated. If Lexi had seen me in a position like that, her wolf would have torn out that woman’s throat. In fact, I’m pretty sure she would have come after me,” he said with a low chuckle.

 

Jericho felt like the lowest scum on the planet. They’d finally reconciled after a tumultuous past, and he’d just made her relive the nightmare all over again.

 

After a thoughtful sigh, Jericho’s voice came out weary and broken. “What else happened?”

 

“Izzy yanked her off the bed like a heap of dirty laundry. For a minute there, I thought she’d stick around. But when I was hauling you off the bed, she got a crazy look in her eyes and ran out. For what it’s worth, I don’t think that groupie got far with you.” Austin scratched his ear and looked away, as if embarrassed. “She still had her uh… her panties on.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Jericho said under his breath. “She’ll never forgive me.” He pulled out his phone and dialed Isabelle, but she didn’t answer. Sickened by the turn of events, he sent a text.

 

 

Jericho: Isabelle, please talk to me.

 

Izzy: There’s nothing to say.

 

Jericho: It’s not what you think. Where are you?

 

Izzy: Hell.

 

He threw the phone across the table and reached for his pack of smokes, lighting one up and taking a long drag, his hand shaky.

 

“Not in here,” Austin said.

 

“Fuck you. Fuck this. Fuck it all.”

 

“That’s how it’s going to be? You’re getting fixated on something you can’t have; maybe she ain’t good for you.”