by Rhys Ford
“Judge and jury, then?” Joe teased. “You are so not a cop, then. We don’t get to do that.”
“Well, most of the time, my back room is used for birthday parties, and St. Con’s a good place to get a beer and a burger.” Levi shrugged. “But sometimes, it’s where groups gather so they don’t end up killing each other later on and I get to listen to them argue their cases. St. Con’s is a Sanctuary. Big S. Anyone coming through that door is granted a safe place to be—no weapons, no rivalries. Have a beer, and if you get a little drunk and you don’t make an ass out of yourself, we’ll pour you into a cab. But don’t start shit, no matter if you’re carrying fur, fangs, or magic, because I’ll shut you down. That’s the cop part of it. I don’t care what someone’s problems are. They just can’t make them anyone else’s.
“And on that note, I’m going to pour you into my bed and crash out here on the couch.” He stood, stretching once again. Joe experienced a moment of ecstasy close to the experience of the number forty-two ice cream hitting his tongue when Levi’s ass brushed against his shoulder as the man inched past him. “Let me make sure I’ve got clean sheets on the mattress and a towel you can use. God knows I’ve got toothbrushes. Damned kid chews through them like he’s still two.”
“You love him. Your son, I mean,” Joe said softly. It wasn’t so much a question as a confirmation of the man Levi seemed to be. “I can hear it in your voice. Harder for me to hear it in my dad’s, but sometimes I can.”
“Deck’s my whole world,” Levi murmured, turning to face Joe. “Not to say there isn’t room for someone else, but he’s the start of it. It’s not easy dating when your idea of a good time is to turn into a giant black wolf and chase a Frisbee in the park. Cures the need for me to hunt something, but brings out all the weirdos and freaks if you list that on any online dating app. Not guys I want to bring home and meet my son.”
“You really like to chase a Frisbee in the park?” Joe leaned back, suspiciously eyeing Levi. “You’re pulling my leg, right?”
“Nope, one of the best things in the world to do. It seriously scratches the hunting itch I get sometimes, and it’s better than chasing pigeons,” Levi said with a wink. “Because it’s a fucking bitch and a half getting those damned feathers out from between my teeth, and they really do taste just like rats.”
Eight
“KELLER, WE need to meet. You and I have to talk.”
Levi didn’t recognize the voice on the phone, but it was serious enough to get his attention. Or at least serious enough to wake him up.
Blearily glancing to the right of him, he momentarily wondered what happened to his alarm clock and more importantly, why had his bed shrunk so much? His shoulders hurt a bit, and there was something hard at the small of his back. Digging in behind him, he found one of the crochet-covered throw pillows his mother pawned off on him the last time she was in town and tossed it across the room. The ache eased, but his confusion didn’t, not until he recalled a pair of warmed-whiskey eyes and the strong Italian face he’d spent more than a few hours staring at before falling into an unconscious sprawl on his living room sectional.
“Hello?” The man on the phone sounded as confused as Levi’d been moments before. “Keller, are you there?”
“Yeah, give me a second. Who is this?” Yawning as he sat up, Levi blinked at the filmy sunlight coming in through the spaces in the room’s drawn curtains. “Better yet. Call back in ten minutes. I just woke up, and I’ve got to pee.”
He hung his phone up before he got a response, then shuffled to the hall bathroom, trying to remember if he’d pulled out some clothes to change into, since Joe Zanetti was probably still asleep in his bed.
Ten minutes was just long enough to get a quick shower in and brush his teeth, but shaving would have to wait. Scrubbing a handful of cold water across his face startled his nerves enough to push Levi into full consciousness, but coffee would go a long way in helping his brain fire up.
His phone began to ring as he filled the kettle for his instant Vietnamese coffee, and Levi let it roll into voicemail, figuring the guy would call back or leave a message.
“’Cause you’re not the camp. That’s got its own ringtone,” Levi told his phone, shaking down the cafe da packets, then tearing them open to pour into his tall mug. “And I’m going to need some juice in me before I deal with anyone’s shit. Hell, I’m not even awake enough to deal with my own shit right now.”
Levi had just settled down onto the couch and had a sip of coffee when his phone chirped at him again. Sighing, he answered the call, not quite willing to have the outside world intrude but resigned to the inevitable. Tucking the phone against his ear, he said, “Yeah. Who is this? And why do we need to talk?”
The growl on the other side of the line was faint, a higher-pitched rumble than a wolf but definitely in the same family. Levi was about to hang up when the man finally spoke. “I don’t like being dismissed.”
“Call before eight in the morning after I’ve had a long night and you’re lucky I even answered the phone,” Levi said softly. “You can either start over with me and speak your piece or I move on and call the Los Lobos group out for violating Sanctuary rules. I do that, and you all are banned from coming in to plead your case. Your call.”
“How do you know I’m with Los Lobos?”
“Because who the hell else is going to call me up before the damned sun has burned off the fog and toss attitude my way?” Levi snorted. “Sure as hell isn’t going to be the Vikings, and there’s no one else being a pain in my ass but you guys. Make up your mind, because the offer’s only good for the next ten seconds. I rushed through a hot shower for you. That’s all the consideration I’m going to give after one of yours attacked someone at my place. Nine seconds.”
“This is Scotty. I’m the Lobos’ second.” Another sigh, and this time, it sounded strained. “I called to tell you Paolo didn’t know Charlie was there last night. I just found out this morning when Charlie came stumbling in.”
“Paolo’s the leader of your group,” Levi reminded him in a voice he often used on Deck when his son was on his fifth excuse for why he did something. “Things aren’t supposed to happen without Paolo knowing about them. You’re not doing your case for your own territory any good here, Scotty. Charlie left his colors in the alleyway, right in front of the guy he was trying to jump.”
“A human, right? A mundane?” Scotty’s voice reached for anything to hang a bit of hope on. “Late enough and maybe drunk enough to convince he didn’t see what he thought he did.”
“Yeah, nope. Let me spell it out for you in small words—wasn’t drinking, is an SFPD detective, and is Strega Zanetti’s grandson.” The sucked-in-hard hiss Scotty made nearly tore Levi’s ear off, but the profanity that followed impressed him with the second’s creativity. “Tell you what, you go wake Paolo up and tell him whatever story you were going to tell me, and when you guys figure it out, call me back. You’ve got two hours, and no, the solution doesn’t include killing Charlie. Maybe by then, I’ll have enough coffee in me and I’ll be in a better mood.”
Levi ended the call before Scotty could reply and went back to his coffee, nearly curling over the steaming cup in the hopes the fragrance alone would shake off the cobwebs in his mind. An intense sluggishness held on to his limbs, and while he’d love nothing more than to fall back into the couch’s almost-too-soft cushions, he still had Joe Zanetti to deal with.
The same Joe Zanetti who was standing at the end of the hallway, wearing nothing but the pair of thin cotton drawstrings Levi found for him only a few hours ago, and with very nice-looking arms crossed over his broad, gorgeous chest.
“You often tell people not to kill their own?” Joe’s rasp was thick with sleep, an erotic stroke on Levi’s tangled nerves. “Heard you talking. Figured you might need some help dealing with all of this. Then I remembered you’re a werewolf. What the hell can I do?”
“Not much difference between you and me, other than we bou
nce a little better with pain and some of us are a hell of a lot quicker,” Levi responded, cocking his head back to drink in the sight of the man standing half-naked in front of him. “Oh yeah, and the turn-into-an-animal thing, but really, not something you can put on your resume. That was one of the Lobos. He wanted to cover up the coyote thing from last night.”
“I heard you tell him no.” Joe fought back a yawn before finally giving in to it. “And then the two-hour deadline. That enough time for them to think up a different line of bullshit to tell you?”
“It’s actually enough time for them to wake up their fearless leader, tell him the bullshit story, and hammer out a solution. Because they owe you for the attack, and they owe me a hell of a lot for violating St. Con’s. Technically, I can call for them to be disbanded, but then who else is going to take in Reilly’s pack of mutts? It’s the one thing he’s been good at—giving the loners a place to belong.” Levi sucked down a bit more coffee, then nodded to the still-hot kettle. “Packets of the Vietnamese are on the counter if you want, and then maybe I can figure out something we can do for those two hours.”
“Yeah?” Joe’s gaze grew wary but flared with a heat Levi appreciated. “What’s that?”
“Oh, I can think of all kinds of things I’d like to do to you, but two hours definitely isn’t enough time.” Levi chuckled at Joe’s bemused expression. “I’ve got a lot of frustration and energy I need to burn off, and I’m thinking you’re just the guy to help me to do it.”
“I CANNOT believe I let you talk me into this.” Joe kept his eyes on the street, looking for anyone coming by. “And how many Frisbees do you go through in a year? I think I might go buy some stock in the company.”
“Look, it helps me concentrate,” Levi said through the cracked-open passenger window. The SUV rocked a bit behind Joe as whatever Levi was doing jostled the car. “Where’d I put my jeans?”
“Did you even bring jeans?” It was surprising how easily he’d fallen into pace with Levi, and standing watch outside of the SUV almost seemed like a natural thing to do, as if Levi were changing out of a wet suit instead of shedding the wolf part of himself. Almost natural. “How long does it take you to get dressed? People are beginning to look at me weird.”
“That’s because you’re wearing an SFPD T-shirt. This neighborhood only sees cops when someone calls the police on someone who didn’t take their trash cans in an hour after the truck comes by. They’re probably wondering if you’re on a stakeout.” Levi made an aha noise, and the SUV rocked again. “Found my pants.”
They’d spent a good forty-five minutes at a hard run, then a cooldown with a game of Frisbee that made Joe reevaluate everything he’d ever thought about wolves. He must have been half-asleep when Levi proposed a jog through the park, and even after Levi came out of the bedroom in full ebony-furred glory, he’d been game. There was something about Levi needing to stretch out the other half of his existence, to peel off the human and shake loose a bit. He asked quietly, giving Joe every out, but he reasoned the only other person he could do a city run with was Kawika, and getting out into the woods was practically impossible with the pub and his son.
So Joe relented and found himself working hard to keep up with Levi’s long strides on a winding cement path deep in Presidio on an overcast Thursday morning. It was odd but good. His brain constantly reminded him the large black wolf loping in front of him was a man he’d caught himself lusting after the night before. Still, the run did him a world of good, clearing his head a bit and easing the last of the ache pounding through his skull. By the time they logged in a couple of miles, he’d fallen into a good rhythm, enjoying the companionable run.
At no point did Levi become anything other than a man in his mind, and the curious turn of his thoughts kept Joe company until they stopped for their cooldown and Levi dug a Frisbee out of the backpack he’d handed Joe to wear.
“This isn’t going to do anything to dissuade anyone you’re a dog, you know,” Joe reminded him, hefting the gnawed heavy plastic disc in his hand. “And this thing weighs a ton. If I hit you in the head with it, it’s not my fault.”
It certainly wasn’t play. Tossing a Frisbee to a powerful, nearly two-hundred-pound wolf was vastly different than throwing a tennis ball around the backyard for his mom’s scraggly-toothed mutt, Josie. Levi stood at Joe’s side, watching the disc arc up before taking off, and then he flew, leaving Joe speechless at the speed and strength in Levi’s other form.
While people stopped and watched a bit, no one approached. Levi’s manner didn’t give off anything other than neutral vibes, but his size made people wary. When a toddler ran up to him screaming, “Doggy,” he’d good-naturedly taken the abuse of tiny fingers digging into his fur and pulling on his ears while Joe assured the little girl’s wide-eyed mother she wasn’t going to be eaten alive. Passing Levi off as a K-9 cop seemed to work, and he was damned certain the man tucked into the wolf was laughing his head off at Joe trying to soothe the hysterical woman’s nerves.
Or at least that’s what he thought when he saw Levi’s sharp white teeth peering out of what looked like a wolfish grin.
“Why aren’t we going back to your place so you could do this?” Joe asked over his shoulder, catching a good glimpse of Levi’s thighs as he struggled to get his jeans up over his knees. “I mean, do you even sweat when you run like that? Or am I going to be the only one running around sopping wet and reeking to high heaven?”
“Nope, don’t sweat, but I bathe every day so I don’t end up smelling like roadkill,” Levi muttered through the open window. “And I try to keep the whole wolf thing under wraps. The alley was a fluke. Only reason I did it was because Charlie was there to tear someone’s head off, and I’m going to guess he thought you were me.”
“He looked like a water balloon about to pop.” Joe shook his head at the memory. “I know how those kinds of bar fights end. The guy thinks just because he’s carrying weight that he’s going to win. Then he gets his ass handed to him. There’s only so much a heavier advantage can give you. You still need to know how to fight.”
“Yeah, but I also didn’t know what Charlie was bringing to the table. For all I knew, he’s won his share. Couldn’t risk it.” Levi grunted, shifting his weight into the door. “Couldn’t risk you.”
Joe wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear the soft whisper, and when he turned around, Levi was bent over, tying one of his sneakers. He liked the guy. Hell, his grandmother liked Levi, and no one was ever good enough for any of her offspring, including her grandkids. Joe wasn’t even sure if Nana liked his mom underneath all of the bluster, but the old woman would stand by her to fight off a storm if she needed to.
He had the feeling Levi was the same way—solid, honest, with a bit of mischief just to keep things interesting.
Nana was right. He could do worse, and he might not ever do any better.
“How long did it take for you to become a Peacekeeper?” Joe turned, catching Levi’s eye. “A year? Six months?”
“Two years, and I had to be a junior for a year. My uncle wanted to retire, and he thought I’d be good at it.” Levi’s shrug tossed off any regard his family might have had for his abilities. “I try to be fair, and I listen. That’s pretty much the biggest part of it. Sometimes I’ve got to do some research about things, like if I don’t know how a certain sect works or if there’s some innate cultural thing built into a shifter type. Nothing that can’t be learned, but people have to trust you to do the right thing. And someone can always go to another Peacekeeper to challenge the decision. The less there is of that, the better.”
“Kind of like appealing to a higher court,” he mused.
“Sort of, but no one’s higher than anyone else. I mean, there’s Peacekeepers you respect pretty hard because they’ve been doing it for years, but there’s also some you want to avoid because they show bias. You can also get a Peacekeeper kicked to the curb by calling for a review.” Levi made a face. “That means gathering up
nine of us, and we listen to reviews of every case that guy—or woman—made over a period of time, especially the cases where bias is claimed. Same thing happens when you become a Peacekeeper. Three seniors review if you’re ready, and if you are, then boom, you’re off deciding how people should live their lives. And not getting paid for the privilege.”
“No pay?” Joe pursed his lips. “So you’re doing all of this for free? Why?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do and someone’s got to do it.” He looked up, capturing Joe in the moonlight sheen of his hazel gaze. “We have an obligation to keep ourselves together as a society so we can exist in the mundane world. So we hold ourselves accountable.
“I might disagree with how some sects and shifters handle their own personal business, and hell, my own family splintered because of something a lot of us wouldn’t agree to, but if I want to bring my kid up in a world where he has to straddle not only the human laws but also a peace we’ve all worked for, then I sure as shit better show up when there’s trouble.” Levi’s expression grew fierce, then softened. “Now, as far as you getting a shower, we can head back to my place, and I’ll bet as soon as we start driving, Reilly will call. Can’t claim you’re old enough to wear big-kid pants if you’ve got to show throat to the Peacekeeper deciding your case. And Reilly wants this bad enough he can taste it. So how about if we grab some tacos on the way home and then see what the Los Lobos gang has to say about their little coyote issue?”
