Bayou Dreams

by Lynn Lorenz

Charbonnet studied him. “Yes. A man’s cologne.” He growled, and something primal in that growl warned Ted he might have gone too far.

  “Well, there’s lots of explanations for that, aren’t there?” Ted tried to soothe the man.

  “Sure there are. Just my jealousy rearing its ugly head.” The judge smiled at him, and Ted thought of a crocodile, all teeth and bad intentions. “Thanks for the report.”

  “Sure.” Something about the guy’s 360-degree turnaround bothered him.

  “Now, about your fee.” The judge pulled open the drawer. Ted held his breath, thinking this could be his last if there was a gun in there.

  Charbonnet pulled out a checkbook. “You’ll take another check, right?”

  “Of course. You’re good for it.” Ted nodded. He watched as the judge wrote the check, ripped it off, and handed it to him.

  Before Ted could take it, the judge pulled it away. “What else did you learn, Canedo?” His eyes narrowed.

  “About what?” Ted shifted in his chair as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

  “About me. About my wife.”

  “Nothing. Like I told you, she adores you. She’s happy to be married to you.”

  “Do you find that odd?” The judge caught Ted in his gaze.

  “Honestly, yeah. You’re older, she’s young and gorgeous.” He shrugged. “But hey, there’s no telling what makes one person fall for another.” He gave a nervous laugh. “Could be a love spell, soul mates, who knows.”

  The judge’s face changed, his eyes became cold and hard. “Exactly. Who knows.”

  Ted waited. Better to keep his mouth shut right now.

  “What do you know, Canedo?”

  “You asked me that before. I told you what I know. That’s it.”

  “Something makes me not believe that.” The judge tapped the check on his desk as if deciding something.

  Ted’s gaze rested on the check. Five grand. His instincts told him to get up and leave. Just go and forget about the check, but he needed that money.

  “Here. Take it.” Charbonnet handed him the check.

  Ted took it, folded it, and shoved it into his shirt pocket. Then he stood, ready to get the hell out of there.

  “Thanks, Judge. Have a good evening.” Ted nodded and backed out of the room.

  In the hall, the big goon leaned against the wall, waiting. Ted didn’t look at him, just beelined for the door to get away.

  He was halfway down the block before he exhaled. He touched the pocket, confirming the check was still there and kept walking.

  At the corner, two men stepped out of the shadows and faced him. In the dim streetlights, Ted recognized the man from the judge’s office.

  So he wouldn’t be getting away after all.

  »»•««

  Scott rang the buzzer on the alleyway door. He had the correct address, he was sure of that. Perhaps Ted was at dinner. He’d tried calling on his way there, but it went to voicemail. He decided to not leave a message. No sense in talking to Ted, at least until he could see him face to face.

  He rang the doorbell again, leaning on the button far longer than he should. A pissed-off Ted would be better than no Ted at all.

  But it looked like he’d struck out. At least, with the normal ways of finding someone.

  Scott glanced up and down the street. A few people walked along the sidewalk on the other side of the street, but no one was anywhere near him.

  He squatted, leaned toward the handle of the door, and sniffed. Ted’s scent filled his nostrils, and his cock rose to it. His mate. He growled low in his throat.

  Now that he had it, he could track Ted if he hadn’t been gone too long. He inhaled and caught a whiff of his mate.

  Scott stood and followed his trail through the Quarter. He reached a corner and stepped into a bar. It was early, almost nine, and the bar held only a few patrons and a bartender.

  Ted’s scent got lost in the odor of stale beer and something else…sex maybe. Scott looked around at the people. They stared at him, trying to figure out who he was and what he wanted.

  Scott headed to the bartender and called him over.

  “I’m looking for Ted Canedo.”

  “What for?” The bartender gave him the once-over. “You a cop?”

  Scott ignored him. “I have a job for him. Was he in earlier?”

  “Yeah, grabbed a shot and headed out.”

  “Did he say where?” Scott pulled a ten out of his pocket and placed it on the bar.

  “No. Ted keeps to himself, except when he doesn’t.” The bartender smirked at him as he slid the money into his hand.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Just that Ted doesn’t just come in here for a little twink action. He’s got other places he goes to get what he needs.”

  Scott looked around again with fresh eyes. So the young men sitting against the walls were “twinks” and as such, available for sex. Probably for a price.

  The thought of Ted being with any of them brought up a growl from his chest.

  “Anyone here tonight?”

  “Nope. Had his drink and left.”

  Scott exhaled. “How did he seem?”

  “What do you mean? Like happy, sad, worried?”

  “Yeah.”

  He shrugged. “Like he had something to do and didn’t like it.”

  “Thanks.” Scott nodded and moved off. “Hey, which way did he go?”

  The bartender pointed out another door that opened onto the side street. “Toward the back of the quarter.”

  Scott left the bar, but not without seeing the frowns on some of the younger guys’ faces. He hated to disappoint them, but the only man he wanted was Ted Canedo.

  In the street, he moved away from the bar, inhaled, and caught Ted’s scent. Between that and his cell number, Scott was certain he’d find Ted.

  He brought up Ted’s name and hit the number, leaned against a building, and listened to it ring.

  It went to voicemail again. “Hi, it’s Ted. Leave your name and number. I’ll get back to you.” Then the beep.

  Scott’s mouth went dry. This time, he’d leave a message. “Listen, Ted. It’s Scott. I need to talk to you. I need to see you. I need…” He licked his lips, but nothing else came to him, not without sounding like a lovesick puppy.

  The message beeped and disconnected.

  Scott shoved his phone back in the pocket of his jeans and kept walking.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  After pushing Ted against the wall and searching him, they’d found his gun and cell phone and took them. Then they’d marched him down Esplanade Avenue, gun pressed into his back, over to the Governor Nichols wharf, and through a door.

  Now he stared at his cell phone as it played a jazz riff. Too bad he couldn’t answer it, but the judge’s goon held it.

  “Who’s Scott Dupree?” the big bastard asked, holding the phone out.

  “A friend.” Ted couldn’t deny what Scott’s name did to his body, and that was bad. So bad.

  But where he was now? That was worse. He’d been in some bad shit, but this was the kind you didn’t live through.

  “Let’s finish this.” The other man, smaller but just as dangerous looking as the goon, jerked his gun around.

  The big guy tossed Ted’s cell phone across the expanse of concrete, and he watched as it slid and came to a rest, still ringing.

  Damn, Scott had called. Too late.

  The unfairness of it angered Ted, and he clenched his fists. They hadn’t bound him, but holding the gun pointed at his chest was all the restraint they’d needed.

  “Yeah, let’s go. I’ve got places to be, things to do, people to see,” Ted quipped, putting on a false front. Better to go down like a man than a coward.

  “Fine.” The goon sauntered up to Ted and slammed his fist into Ted’s belly, doubling him over, all the air leaving his lungs in one giant rush.

  “The judge wants you to forget whatever you think you know about h
im, get it?”

  Still bent over and unable to answer, Ted nodded. The next blow fell, this time, on the side of his head, and he fell to the ground.

  “Get up,” Someone ordered. “I’m not finished.”

  »»•««

  Scott stood on the corner, confused. Ted’s scent was here, but so were two others. He’d met people, and they’d continued on together.

  Scott inhaled, savoring the smells on his palate, separating them from Ted’s. Cheap cologne. And oiled metal.

  He knew that smell.

  The hairs on the back of Scott’s neck stood up, signaling danger. Ted’s scent changed, now a sharp tang to Scott’s nose, but Ted’s pheromones couldn’t be denied.

  Ted was in trouble.

  Scott growled as he followed the three men deeper into the Quarter.

  »»•««

  Ted pushed to his hands and knees, then launched himself at the bigger man. They grappled as the other man danced around them, gun ready but with no clear shot.

  Ted got an arm free and swung at the man’s jaw, connected, but the big bastard came back with another blow to Ted’s side, landing on his kidney.

  Pain shot white stars behind Ted’s eyelids, and his knees buckled. He went down on one, clutching his ribs. Had something cracked?

  The man stepped forward, swung, and caught Ted’s jaw. Blood and spit flew as bare knuckles broke skin and tore lips.

  Ted lay on the ground, sucking in air, but it felt impossible. Gasping, he tried to get to his feet. His vision blurred, and the empty warehouse and the two men swirled,

  “Stay away from the judge, and his wife.” The goon grabbed Ted’s hair and jerked up his head. “Get it?”

  “Yeah,” Ted choked out.

  The guy brought up his knee, slamming it into Ted’s jaw and knocking him backward. Ted sprawled, legs and arms out, on the cold cement floor.

  He opened his eyes and looked up into the man’s face.

  “I’ll just take that check if you don’t mind.” He leaned over Ted and plucked it from his pocket.

  “Come on, let’s go. You’ve done too much,” the other voice wheedled. “I got a bad feeling…”

  Ted’s vision blurred as he tried to catch his breath through the pain. He must be losing it because he could hear low growling.

  “Scott?” he whispered.

  All hell broke loose. Something huge and gray leaped over him. “What the fuck?” someone shouted. A scream split the still air, and a gun went off.

  Growling filled the empty warehouse, echoing off the sides and rafters. The shoes of the men scraped on the concrete as they scuffled with whatever it was attacking them.

  Ted rolled over and tried to get up, tried to see what was happening, but it was a fast-moving blur. He rubbed one hand over his eyes to clear them, focused, then blinked.

  A large gray wolf had the smaller man on the ground, his jaws wrapped around the guy’s hand. Blood dripped from it. The animal shook its head, and red drops flew as the man screamed again.

  The other man crawled on his hands and knees toward the door, whimpering, blood dripping from between his fingers wrapped around his throat.

  “Scott?” Ted called. It couldn’t be, maybe he’d been hit so hard he hallucinated.

  A wolf. His wolf. Scott really was a werewolf.

  His mate had come for him.

  Ted’s vision shrank, and he slid to the floor.

  »»•««

  Scott chased the two men out of the warehouse, snapping and snarling at their heels, only bare restraint keeping him from tearing them into shreds.

  No one touched his mate, much less beat him. By pack rights, they should die for that sin, but by human laws, Scott knew he couldn’t do that. Instead, he’d have to just make them go away, and if they suffered a little, so be it.

  They scrambled through the narrow doorway, fighting each other for first out and into the night. With his wolf’s vision, he watched as the big man grabbed the smaller one and they limped off together with only a hasty glance thrown over their shoulders.

  The wolf stood in the shadows of the door, well aware of the danger of being seen. The taste of their blood on his tongue left a nasty iron-rich tang, and he shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of it.

  He sat and licked at his paw to remove the taste. It wasn’t like the other animals he’d tasted. It burned, and he didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

  A soft groan from inside the building brought the wolf around, ears pointed forward. He stood and trotted over to his mate stretched out on his back.

  Scott sniffed at him, confirming this man was his, then licked his face, tasting blood again. But this time, the taste was rich, deep, and soothing. He licked at the cuts on his cheek and lips to help them heal in the only way the wolf knew.

  Ted’s hand came up to brush him away. He growled, and the hand dropped.

  “Scott?” his mate asked, eyes still shut.

  Scott whined, lay down, and shifted.

  ∙•∙

  Ted opened his eyes and looked up into Scott’s blue eyes.

  “Hey, you okay?” Scott asked, brushing a strand of Ted’s hair off his face. The touch of his fingertips soothed Ted.

  “There was a—” he stopped and swallowed. “Wolf. Was that you?”

  Scott nodded. “In the fur.”

  Ted closed his eyes and sighed. “Thanks.”

  “Who were those goons, and why were they beating you?” Scott helped Ted sit up. He rubbed his hand over Ted’s back, soothing and checking it over at the same time.

  “Friends of another satisfied client.” Ted grimaced and rubbed his check.

  “If those are the happy ones, I’d hate to see the ones who aren’t.” Scott stood and pulled Ted to his feet. “Can you make it back to your place, or do I need to call a cab?”

  Ted tried a few steps. His vision cleared, but the pounding in his jaw and ache in his side continued. “I’m okay. My head hurts, and I think he cracked a rib or two, but I’ll make it.”

  Scott stared at him. From his look, Scott didn’t believe Ted’s attempt at bravado. “I think we need a cab. I’m not going to carry you all the way through the French Quarter.”

  “If you don’t think you can manage.” Ted grinned, but it pulled at his split lip, and it started bleeding again. “Damn.” He touched it with his tongue.

  Scott stepped toward him and brushed the bead of blood with his thumb, dragging the pad slowly across Ted’s lip. Ted reached up and took his wrist, holding his hand in place.

  His wolf cupped his hand, and Ted gave in and let Scott cradle his face as he closed his eyes.

  Damn. There was something about this man…

  “Why are you here? Not that I’m not grateful.”

  “We can talk about that once we get you home, okay?”

  “Sure.” Ted let Scott wrap his arm around his waist and lead him from the warehouse. “Wait! My cell phone and my gun. They tossed my phone over there.” He pointed.

  Scott let him go and trotted over to the phone and snatched it up. “Did you see what they did with the gun?”

  “No. But where’s the other guy’s gun? He had it on me the whole time, at least until you showed up.” Ted looked around the floor.

  “It went flying when I grabbed him.”

  “I heard a shot.” Ted gazed into Scott’s eyes, then down over his body, checking him for wounds.

  “High and wide. Asswipe couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.” Scott snorted. “I think the shock of seeing a wolf charging him must have upset him.”

  “You think?” Ted laughed. “It’d scare the shit out of me to see a large, pissed-off wolf coming at me.”

  “Hey, they had my mate. What was I supposed to do?” Scott didn’t smile, but the heated look he shot Ted was like a flaming arrow to his heart.

  Ted didn’t answer. He couldn’t. They’d decided to let this thing between them die, hadn’t they?

  Scott reached down an
d held up a gun. “This yours?”

  “Yeah. We need to find his. I don’t want to leave it lying around for someone else to find.”

  After a few minutes of searching, Scott tracked it down under a table against the wall. He stuffed it in the back of his jeans, handed Ted his gun back, and together they left the warehouse.

  On the corner of Esplanade and the river, they flagged down a cab.

  Despite Ted’s ragged appearance, the cabbie didn’t say a word. Ted gave his address, and the two men slumped back in their seats.

  Scott didn’t touch him, and Ted missed it. Missed that strong arm around his waist, the touch of his hands on Ted’s body.

  Damn. This wasn’t going like he’d hoped. He hoped he’d never see Scott again, never feel these things for another man. Especially a straight man. A straight man who was a werewolf.

  This whole situation was fucked, and Ted didn’t know what to do.

  He glanced at Scott, who stared out the window of the cab. Scott had come for him. He’d saved him, waded into a fight that wasn’t his and risked being killed, all for him.

  Just like a partner would do.

  Partner sounded like they were cops or a gay couple, but he refused to call him mate. It just didn’t feel right to say those words, especially since they both claimed the spell was broken. It sure didn’t feel like the spell was kaput, and that scared him, maybe more than he’d been scared tonight with those two henchmen of the judge’s.

  And what was he going to do about the judge? He’d lost his money. Ted wasn’t sure he was going to let the old bastard get away with it, but he wasn’t sure going back for another heaping helping of whip ass would be smart.

  “We’re here.” Scott touched Ted’s arm.

  “Great.” Ted’s body protested as he got out of the cab. Scott paid the driver while Ted fumbled for his keys in his jeans.

  He got the door open, and Scott followed him into the alley.

  “I’m in the back.” Ted jerked his head as he led the way.

  A few minutes later, he locked the door to his apartment and slumped against it. God, his body ached. He turned and locked gazes with Scott.

  And like a flash of lightning, Scott was on him, pushing him against the door, burying his face in Ted’s neck, wrapping his arms around him, trying to get as close as possible.