Fox Hunt

by J. Leigh Bailey

  “David? Buddy?”

  “Yeah?” I asked, taken slightly off-balance. Not only had she sought Darren’s opinion, she handed her phone over to him? What the hell was going on?

  “We’ll let things ride as they are for now.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Maybe Darren was a good influence on Mom after all.

  “There are conditions, though,” Mom added.

  Of course there were. “Such as?”

  “You will call each night by 10:00 p.m. to check in. Phone call. Not text. I want proof you’re alive,” Mom said.

  Irritating but not unreasonable. “Fine. And?”

  “And,” Mom said, “if there’s even one more suspicious incident, you will come home. No arguments. You’ll come home, even if I have to send enforcers to pick you up.”

  “Fine.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Buddy?” Mom’s voice took on an edge that meant this was the shifter council member speaking, not the mother.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “You make sure nothing happens to my boy. If things get hairy, do whatever it takes to make sure he’s safe. Hogtie him and ship him home in a crate if that’s what it takes.”

  I glowered. “That’s not emasculating at all,” I muttered under my breath. Then, louder, “I can take care of myself.”

  “I understand,” Buddy said. From the tone of his voice, he would absolutely slap postage on my ass if that was what it took.

  “Call us tonight,” Mom commanded before disconnecting the call.

  I tossed my phone back into the cupholder. “How is this my life?” I crossed my arms over my chest like a petulant child and glared at the passing traffic.

  Chapter Eleven

  DAMN it. I was so going to end up hogtied and shipped to Wyoming.

  Buddy growled low as we stared at the mess of our hotel room. It had been completely ransacked. Clothes had been pulled from our bags, my toiletries had been scattered throughout the bathroom, and the contents of my backpack had been dumped on the torn-apart bed. Even the coffee maker had been smashed against the countertop.

  Nostrils flaring, Buddy prowled the room, glaring at each out-of-place item. Every few steps he’d stop to get a better sniff. I stood in the doorway, arms crossed over my torso, hands gripping the opposite elbow. My skin tingled with alternating hot and cold flashes, like my body couldn’t decide between fear and anger. The mix made me nauseated and light-headed. Or maybe it was the violation of it that had me queasy. But the frustration that this would be the last straw heralding my return to Cody was what had me on the edge of tears.

  I reached for Buddy’s arm as his pacing brought him closer. He spun around, eyes flashing, mouth snarling.

  Heart pounding, I stepped back from him.

  He stilled, eyes closed. He sucked in a deep breath. I could practically hear him reciting inhale, one, two, three; hold, one, two, three; exhale, one, two, three. The wildness in his expression melted away. He blinked his lids open and the steady, gentle Buddy I’d gotten to know—no, the Theo I’d gotten to know—was back in the driver’s seat.

  He cupped my face, caressing the cheekbone with the side of his thumb. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  His hand on my skin was the best kind of burn. The warmth it created had nothing to do with anger or even arousal. It was compassion and tenderness and affection. And it made tears prickle beneath my lids for an altogether different reason. I opened my mouth. I had to swallow twice before I could reassure him. “It’s fine. You startled me.”

  I grabbed his wrist before he withdrew it, keeping his hand exactly where it was. We locked gazes, and the tension and sheer awareness grew suffocating. I wasn’t sure how it happened, but we’d gotten closer. Only a few inches separated his chest from mine. I could see every striation of color in his deep brown eyes, and I felt the moist puffs of his breath on my skin. Everything about this moment was intense, but I couldn’t say exactly why.

  I licked my lips, unsure if I wanted to step closer and bring our bodies into full contact, or to step back and break the invisible string tying us together in this weird moment.

  “David, I… we… can’t—”

  That decided me. I stepped into him. I stood on tiptoes and fitted my mouth to his.

  He gasped in a breath, hand tightening on my face for the tiniest of instants, before sighing and parting his lips.

  It was everything a first kiss should be—tender, sweet, and fucking electrifying. He let me lead, let me revel in the rub of satiny lips and the tickle of silky beard. I nipped at his full lower lip and felt him chuckle before he opened his mouth a fraction more, inviting me in. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing closer. His mouth was hot and slick and tasted like the forest at night, earthy and fresh, and the subtle heat exploded. I was no longer content with slow explorations and teasing touches.

  “Please, Theo.” I groaned, dropping my heels and pulling his head down. I needed him to take, to devour. I needed to know he wanted this as much as I did. I needed him to not treat me like I was weak or young. I just needed him.

  He dropped his arms to grip my hips. He growled deep in his chest and hauled me up until my feet left the ground. I hooked a leg around his thigh to keep from sliding down. He shifted his grip, clamping his hands on my ass to hold me in place. I kept us pressed together from chest to groin, and the pressure was unbearably satisfying. His mouth moved over mine with an insistence that made my knees week. Good thing he was strong enough to keep me in place.

  When oxygen became necessary, I pulled away, sucking in air. Damn, Buddy was magnificent like this, face flushed, and pupils blown.

  “Theo, you’re—” I wasn’t sure how I was going to finish that sentence. Maybe I was going to tell him he was amazing. Beautiful. Sexy as fuck. I didn’t get the chance, though.

  A door slamming next door broke the strange tension between us. I could see—I could fucking see—reality come crashing down around us. Buddy’s passion-fogged gaze sharpened, and he lowered me to the ground.

  “Buddy—Theo,” I corrected myself. When we were alone, together, and especially when he’d had his tongue in my mouth, he was Theo.

  He held up a hand. “This shouldn’t have happ—”

  It was my turn to cut him off. “Don’t. Don’t say this shouldn’t have happened. It did happen. We both wanted it to happen. There is no shouldn’t.”

  “This shouldn’t have happened now.” He glared at the destruction surrounding us. “Someone tore apart our room, went through our stuff, maybe stole something. Now isn’t the time for this.” He gestured between himself and me.

  I had to give him that. The timing was inconvenient. As long as it was the timing he objected to, and not the act itself.

  “Besides,” he continued, “kissing you is irresponsible and inappropriate. I should never have—”

  “Stop.” I planted my hand on his chest, digging into the soft fabric of his T-shirt. “First, I kissed you, not the other way around. And inappropriate—”

  “I’m your bodyguard.”

  I snorted. “What are you worried about? Your objectivity or my mom’s wrath?”

  “Both.”

  “Well, my mom’s not here, and I’m not a child. So we’re all good there. And I’ve mentioned it before, I don’t need a bodyguard, so your objectivity won’t be a problem.”

  “Christ, David, look around you! You need protection. Hell, I need to take you home.”

  “What? You’re making too big a deal out of this. I’m not a target. This is a coinciden—”

  “Why are you being so pigheaded about this? You’ve been threatened on three separate occasions and now this. What will it take for you to take this seriously?”

  I pressed my lips together. I wasn’t stupid, but I needed evidence. Something to prove that I wasn’t in some kind of twisted cycle of Murphy’s Law. “This could have happened to anyone.”

  “I want to shake you sometimes.” He threw up his hands and started p
acing the room again.

  “Mutual,” I assured him.

  He ignored me, scanning the room. “We’re going to report this to the hotel, and we’ll probably have to fill out some kind of report. Go through the things to see if anything was taken. Then we’re going to get into your circus clown car and drive home.”

  “Hey, no disrespecting Andy. And I can’t go home. I have five more schools to visit.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Damn it, David, your safety is more important.”

  “No, it’s not. I can’t let a minor inconvenience and a string of bad luck fuck up my future. I’ve worked too hard for this.”

  Someone walked past our door, the wheels on their suitcase squeaking. Buddy scrubbed his hands over his face. “We’re not done discussing this. But now’s not the time.” The tone and the expression reminded me so much of Aiden that I knew I’d been firmly shoved back into the “little brother” box. I would have objected more, but he was right. It wasn’t the time for that. But we sure as shit would be having that conversation the minute the break-in report had been completed.

  THREE hours later, with two reports filed and an apologetic hotel manager’s assurance that we would be refunded the cost of our stay, Buddy and I dug through the mess. We’d already sifted through enough to have confirmed that nothing was taken. Thankfully, my computer was safe, since I’d locked it in the trunk of my Mini. I was paranoid about my technology, so I kept it where only I could access it. We also hadn’t left any money or documents in the room, so the violation and inconvenience were the worst of it.

  Buddy jammed clothes and toiletries into bags without rhyme or reason. Nothing was folded, and no effort was made to make sure my stuff ended up in my bags and his stuff ended up in his. The idea that my dirty underwear might now be mingling with his caused no end of mixed emotions for me. On the one hand, we didn’t know each other well enough for him to deal with my dirty laundry. On the other, my fox really liked the idea of his clothes smelling like me. It was confusing to say the least.

  “We need to talk about where we’re going to go from here,” I said when the silence went on too long. We were nearly packed, and I feared that if I couldn’t convince him of our next destination before we left the room, I’d be halfway back to Wyoming before the sun set.

  He tugged at the last zipper before setting his backpack by the door. He sat on the edge of one of the beds and motioned for me to sit facing him on the other. It reminded me of the “serious discussions” my dad would have with me and Aiden when we’d misbehaved as children. Before I got my dander up, he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. It was the exhaustion I saw on his face that had me obeying his request.

  I mirrored his position, then waited for him to speak.

  He watched me carefully for a moment before saying, “No bullshit. Is there any part of you that thinks this might be more than coincidence? Any part that acknowledges there might be a threat?”

  I opened my mouth to assure him that of course everything was coincidence, or Murphy’s Law, or bad luck. Bad luck could just happen. His tired eyes forced me to lose the PR spin I’d been constructing in my head. “No bullshit, huh?”

  He nodded.

  “Fine. Yes, there’s a part of me that wonders if maybe I do have a target on my back. That maybe I left a trace behind that would lead the Moreau Initiative to my doorstep. Shit happens and bad luck exists, but four potentially hostile situations in four days stretches credulity a bit.”

  He let out a long breath. When he filled his lungs again, his posture relaxed. I hadn’t even realized how tightly he’d been holding himself until the edge was gone.

  “That doesn’t mean,” I rushed to say before he could mistake my meaning, “that I’m agreeing to run and hide back in Wyoming.”

  A small smile softened the curve of his mouth. “Of course not.”

  “Seriously. No bullshit. I’m also not wrong about how unlikely it is that anyone could have pinpointed the origin of my hack, let alone attribute it to me. I wasn’t even on my own computer, so there’s nothing to link me. There’s a superslim chance that it could draw attention to the ranch, but even that likelihood is negligible. And the clincher is, it’s been weeks. If something was going to happen, it would have happened by now. I’m not being stubborn. Logically and realistically, there’s no credible reason to think I’m in any danger.”

  He raised a brow but didn’t interrupt.

  “No bullshit, I promise. I really, honestly, swear to God, believe that my mom is overreacting because she’s my mom. In her position she knows the kind of dangers we face. And running into the Initiative like that, and the fallout from Owen’s and Joey’s escapades in Chicago, brought everything closer to home. I mean, the Initiative now knows that we know about them and what they do. Of course that’s bad news. Bad news for shifters, not bad news for me in particular.”

  “Why’s this trip so important to you?”

  “I want—”

  “You and I both know that there’s still time to schedule these meetings. There’s nothing to stop you from flying to DC in October, or even November.”

  “I don’t get to make the schedule,” I said. “I have to get invited to these interviews and I’m very much at the whim of the professor.”

  “Yet you somehow, with no input of your own, managed to schedule seven school visits in a row, and in a sequence that allows you to do one big cross-country loop?”

  There may have been some wheedling and negotiating involved.

  “And how many of the planned stops have actual interviews? Not to downplay your qualifications, but seven interviews to seven prestigious schools is quite an accomplishment.”

  Heat suffused my cheeks. Damn my pale skin. It showed everything.

  Buddy stared at me, waiting.

  “Fine,” I said with a huff. “Columbia and Chapel Hill didn’t exactly invite me for an interview. But since I’m going to be on the East Coast anyway….”

  He chuckled. “Figures. What were you going to do? Show up at someone’s office and drop off your portfolio.”

  “The plan was a little more involved than that, but basically, yeah.”

  He grinned and shook his head. “That is so like you.”

  “Hey, determination and perseverance can go a long way to impressing people. I’m not planning on hounding them, and it’s not like my application has been rejected already. I just want to stop by, maybe see if I can get my information moved to the top of the list for review.”

  “Why is this so important to you?” His voice dropped an octave, the amusement changing to seriousness.

  I knew he wasn’t talking about the interviews, not them specifically. He was looking for a deeper motivation. I could have played it off, pretended to not understand. I could have repeated the story about wanting to be the next Anderson Cooper. But he wasn’t asking about that either. He wanted to know why this trip, and why now.

  I wasn’t sure I could actually put it into words. Usually the words were there. They were my strength. My shield. But sometimes, when it came to the very heart of me, the deepest part that I didn’t show people, the words were elusive. Reaching for them left me feeling vulnerable, nerves exposed. I was tempted to throw up a buffer of superficial words, but I’d promised Buddy no bullshit. And honestly, I wanted to be able to tell somebody, to tell Buddy.

  “Validation, maybe? I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a selfish brat. I’ve never wanted for anything—no material possession was out of my reach. There was family money, and councilors get a generous salary.”

  “I don’t think you’re a brat,” Buddy said. I noticed he didn’t try to claim I wasn’t selfish. I almost smiled.

  “After my dad left, it was only Mom, Aiden, and me. Mom was busy working her way up the Shifter Council ranks. Aiden was busy being the perfect son. And that makes me sound like an asshole. He’s a good guy. Seriously. But he was damned good at everything he did, and everything s
eemed to come so easy to him.”

  Buddy reached over and covered my hand with his. Until he did it, I hadn’t realized I’d been twisting the sheets below me. “It may seem like that from the outside, but you can never know what his life is like.”

  If he said anything about walking a mile in Aiden’s shoes….

  “And I can tell you how unhealthy it is to compare yourself to others, especially when you feel like you’re the loser in the comparison. Believe me, I get it.” He squeezed my hand.

  His understanding was a nearly palpable thing. The relief it brought was instant; the wrestling ferrets in my belly disappeared.

  “The thing is, he got all the attention, all the praise. And it felt like—still feels like, if I’m being honest—I was invisible. Or living in his shadow, or something equally melodramatic. Unless I fucked up. People saw me then, let me tell you. I spent my life going back and forth between ignored and scrutinized, nothing in the middle.”

  “You’re not as invisible as you think,” Buddy said. He pushed off the bed across from me, then settled in next to me.

  The warmth of his bulky body seeped into me, giving me the wherewithal to continue my confession. And it felt a bit like a confession. Each word uttered cleansed my soul a little more.

  “Back in July, when this whole Moreau Initiative thing came down, I faced a room full of pissed-off shifters, all pointing fingers and dissecting my actions. My mom, my brother, and my soon-to-be stepfather sat on one end of this long conference table while I sat alone at the other. It just… it was too much, you know? It’s like every time I screw up, I get the attention I crave, but at the same time the distance between me and those who are supposed to be there for me grows greater and greater. Careful what you wish for, I guess.”

  “And your determination to be the next Anderson Cooper?”

  “If I can do something right, something I’m good at, and make a positive difference while doing it? That’s like my dream. Maybe then my family will see me as someone worthwhile, someone who’s not a fuckup.”