Loyal

by Hollis Shiloh

  Tomas slid his phone away and sighed. "What did you want to talk about, then?" He steepled his fingers and gave Justin a long-suffering look.

  I rubbed the top of my nose between two fingers. "Guys."

  "No, I mean, I'm sure it's super scintillating and important." He showed his teeth in what was definitely not a smile. "What would you like to discuss, Justin? How would you like to dominate this conversation, and everything else in your life?"

  "Guys," I said, loudly enough that they both stopped and looked at me. "The food's here." I gestured awkwardly.

  When everything was arrayed before us and the waitress had left with our thank-yous, I dug into my meal. It took up more table space than anything else at the table. The space in front of Tomas looked sadly empty with nothing but a small cup of soup and some crackers.

  "Maybe we could talk about how even men can get eating disorders," said Justin, looking at the soup pointedly.

  I stopped eating and stared at him. Why was he trying to start trouble? It wasn't nice, and it wasn't like him. "Justin, leave Tomas alone. He doesn't need you critiquing him."

  "Am I that bad?" He searched my face and I could see it dawning on him that yes, he really was being that rude to my partner. "He's so disengaged. It gets on my nerves."

  "Guys, I'm right here," said Tomas.

  "I'm sorry, Tommy," I said. "We won't try this again tomorrow, okay? I'm—"

  Justin broke in. "No. He's right. No more personal comments. It's not my business. I apologize, Tomas. Truly. I'll—keep my opinions to myself."

  Tomas snorted softly, as if there was no way in hell he believed that, but he gave Justin a cautious nod and reached for his soup spoon. He looked back and forth between us, and tried to look like he didn't wonder what on earth I saw in Justin.

  I gave Justin another hurt look. My Justin, who could be so insecure, but could also bully people by poking at them and not stopping. It was not the best side of his personality, and it made me really unhappy to see him turning it on Tomas. And apparently not even realizing when he'd gone too far. For a guy who could read microexpressions, he could still be pretty clueless.

  I would talk with each of them separately. I loved Justin too much to let him hurt Tomas for no reason. Maybe I could make peace between them. I couldn't stand to lose either one.

  They were my pack now. I'd already made the decision not to let Justin look up my old pack at present. I wanted to move forward, not back. Maybe someday I would be ready.

  But right now, I had these two men in my life, and they were what I needed. And they were going to have to find ways to get along.

  MOVING DAY, AND THINGS were going well. We'd made several trips so far, nobody had gotten injured, and it wasn't even lunchtime yet.

  Tomas said I shouldn't have to do all the lifting just because I was the strongest, and of course that meant Justin chimed in and said he and Tomas could handle the next trip, I should sit down and have a coffee, take a load off. He got folksy when he was annoyed with Tomas.

  He was making a much bigger effort, though. We'd had a few deep conversations on the topic, about the way we both saw things and felt about them. It turned out he was still a bit insecure when it came to Tomas, and that was a big part of it. Tommy, who was pretty and quiet and so terribly clever under his unassuming personality, somehow made Justin feel that he didn't measure up, with his louder personality and more weathered features. We were working on that insecurity—and he wasn't going to poke at Tomas even if his insecurities never completely went away. I'd talked with Tomas, too, and he'd more or less forgiven Justin "for being Justin," as he put it—but the upshot was less antagonism all around, even if they weren't best buds.

  Of course I didn't just wait for them to get back with the next load of stuff (mostly Justin's stuff, some of mine). I was busy unpacking when the doorbell rang.

  We had a doorbell now and everything. It was pretty amazing. I really hoped Justin and Tomas were right, that Justin and I could handle this financially, because I was already getting attached to this place. Definitely too big for a couple, but perfect for a huge, rambunctious family. I was thinking about that as I walked to the door, of a bunch of young wolves galloping through the house, leaving their reserve and worries behind as soon as they got home, to the place where they knew they were wanted.

  They would be. They'd be wanted, and we'd make sure they knew it.

  I opened the door. I'd been expecting a pizza man, or a neighbor, or Tomas and Justin back early, one of them deciding to test out the doorbell.

  Instead, a near-stranger's face met mine, his gaze defiant and distressed. For a moment, it didn't register. My lone wolf was facing me.

  I stared at him in amazement. He'd avoided me for ages, and now... "What are you doing here?"

  "Let me in." He raised his right hand with an awkward jerk, a gun clenched in his fist. He wasn't holding it like he knew what to do with it, but the threat was clear. And might even be more dangerous without proper training.

  "Ah. Of course." I stepped back and made room.

  He was trembling. I studied his whole demeanor, took a cautious sniff or two of his scent. Everything Justin would have needed microexpressions to figure out telegraphed themselves loudly and instantly to my wolf senses.

  He did not want to be here. And he did not want to hurt me.

  "What is it? What's wrong?" I asked.

  He turned to glare at me, his face twisted with something like agony. "I'm supposed to kill you. Don't you care?"

  "Of course I care. Is it Vance?" I guessed.

  "Who?" His face screwed up in confusion. He looked like he was close to crying anyway and that made it worse. He shook his head quickly. "It shouldn't matter."

  "Well, of course it matters. Someone convinced you to do it. How?"

  "I need the money." His gaze dropped, filled with shame.

  "You've been waiting, though. I saw you hanging around. How long will—Eddie, is it Eddie?—let you wait?"

  "I—I don't know." He'd jerked a little at the name "Eddie" so I knew that was the answer.

  Why did Eddie want to kill me? I guess he blamed me for helping Vance take over, and Vance had betrayed him. I wondered if someone had been ordered to kill Vance, too. It all felt so far away and foreign now. My life had changed so much. It was hard to remember that this was all still fresh and extremely important to the people actually in jail because of me. My lack of loyalty, that is.

  I studied my lone wolf friend for a moment. He was clearly miserable about this. Far from a professional assassin, his body language practically begged me to overpower him and grab the gun, and maybe yell at him for trying to kill another wolf.

  He'd been wrestling with his guilt for weeks. Yet he was still desperate enough for money to come here and try. Or half-heartedly try. At any rate, he didn't feel he could just walk away.

  "How much?" I said. "I've got some savings."

  Really, wouldn't it be ironic to use the money Eddie paid me to pay off the assassin Eddie also paid for?

  I was taking this extremely calmly. Me, who got nervous about reflective sunglasses or having to make too many decisions quickly. I stared at my friend, tilting my head slightly.

  "I—I can't take your money."

  "Don't be silly. If you need it. Look at this place my mate and I are buying. We'll be fine." (I hoped so, but really, this wolf was in distress, and if my savings could help...)

  He squinted at me. "Don't you even want to know why I need the money?"

  "I can tell it's important. I don't have to know the exact details. I wouldn't mind knowing your name, though."

  He rubbed at his forehead, which was wrinkling as he struggled for control of his emotions. "It's Roger. But most people call me Hank. 'Cause I listen to country music." He laughed then, an awkward half-sob, and jerked forward slightly, his gun hand falling to his side, mostly forgotten.

  I stepped closer, took the gun from him and set it carefully on the countertop, then
drew him into my arms for a tight hug. He needed it. His breathing was labored, and there were some tears involved.

  "I wouldn't have done it," he said. "Even if you weren't nice. I don't think I could kill another wolf."

  When Justin and Tomas got back with another load of boxes, Hank and I were sitting on the floor together. I had an arm around his shoulder. He looked a little tear-stained but none the worse for wear.

  I looked up as they entered, carrying a box between them, bickering under their breaths. Hank's head hung low. He was ashamed of himself for taking the job in the first place.

  Turned out Eddie had forged some contacts in the wolf community near his jail. He'd thought it would be especially ironic, I suppose, to hire a wolf to kill me.

  I wondered how he'd take the news of that plan's failure. Hank was very willing to tell the police all about it, if it assuaged his guilt a little. He was pitifully grateful I wasn't angry with him. Like so many lone wolves, he really needed some looking after—and it wasn't all about money, either.

  "Tomas, Justin," I called, looking up at them. "Come and meet my assassin." I hugged Hank against my side, and smiled. "You big bad wolf, you."

  EPILOGUE

  After my new friend told the police what he knew, Justin bustled Hank into the same program he'd sent me through. Of course he did.

  "If nothing else, he'll get some free counseling, and stay off Eddie's radar for a while," Justin had explained.

  Hank had been eager to please. He wanted so much to make up for taking a job like that in the first place.

  I was proud of my pack, Justin and Tomas. They were kind to Hank from that very first night, even though it was enough of a surprise that they dropped the box on Justin's foot. After Justin stopped clenching his teeth, he was polite and friendly, even charming. Tomas cooked Hank some things to eat and talked to him about baseball till he was less tearful.

  Justin teased me later about taking my would-be assassin under my wing, but really, anyone would have done it if they got a good look at Hank and saw how he was really feeling about things.

  He stayed in touch as he went through the training. We got a text from him every day or so.

  In the meantime, as we set up our new home, Justin and I started working toward getting the training we needed to become foster parents.

  We had some discussions about it. On the one hand, we needed to work on our relationship, settle into home and life together, and be as solid as we possibly could before we took on responsibilities. All of this was still so new, really. If he could still get jealous of Tommy, we had more work to do.

  But on the other hand, it couldn't hurt to get the training and certification out of the way, take care of preliminaries now so we'd be ready when it was a good time.

  We had a lot of living ahead of us: a big family, our very own pack of children. There was no need to rush.

  We went to some joint counseling sessions, too. Turned out we both had some issues regarding our own parents. Me, with losing them and all the havoc that had wreaked in my life. Justin, with feeling like he'd never measured up to what they wanted from him—that he always needed to be better, more productive, stronger. It was good to work on these things now, rather than get sideswiped by them later.

  We got simple bedrooms set up. Tomas would come over and help me assemble children's beds, or pick out what kind of sheets to buy.

  He'd become a lot more tolerant of Justin, now that we weren't trying to squeeze into a small apartment together. I think knowing how seriously Justin took the whole "becoming parents" thing helped, too, in a way that I hadn't expected. It was like Tomas could finally see past the "I'm so confident and perfect" veneer to the man underneath. The man I loved.

  The kitchen survived my first few disastrous attempts at cooking, until I got some of the actual beginner instruction I needed, not chef-ready-to-take-on-a-dinner-party levels of instruction.

  Justin got a pained look on his face more than once, but didn't tell me not to teach myself to cook. He cautiously offered a cooking course, as I'd suspected he might, and double-checked the fire extinguishers and smoke alarms, though.

  Tomas, finally realizing that yes, this was actually important to me, taught me how to make scrambled eggs properly, which was an excellent place to start.

  "So is Justin going to be Dad and you're going to be Daddy, or how will that work?" he asked, when we were washing up.

  "No clue. Whatever the kids want, I guess."

  He grinned at me. "You're going to be the pushover dad. We all know it."

  I threw a dishtowel at him, and tried not to laugh. "I don't care."

  He was right, of course. I was going to be the dad who made cocoa and toast when they'd had a bad day, got his shoulder cried on, and kept their secrets about crushes. I was going to be the pushover, the softie. Rather than living in a world where my sensitivity and softness were a liability, I might even discover these traits to be my strength: something I could use to protect and shield, something that helped me comfort.

  There would be battles to fight, I knew that. Justin would get flinty and glitteringly fierce if our pups needed protection, from the system or their school peers or anything at all. We'd be parents, someday, and together. I knew we needed to prepare more first—but on some level, I was ready.

  Together, we'd be a team, in this way now too.

  "And I'll be the cool uncle who gets them into sports," said Tomas.

  "Only if you get them into reading, too," I informed him. But I really didn't think that was going to be a problem.

  He laughed. "You know, Riley, for an indecisive person, you've gotten pretty decisive."

  Maybe I had. At the very least, I finally knew what I wanted in life: everything I already had.

  the end

  The Shifters and Partners series so far:

  My Partner the Wolf

  My Partner and Me

  Joey and the Fox

  My Sahil

  Partners in Deed

  Some Reservations

  Shelter

  FOXED

  Trey's Partner

  Journey

  FOXED UP

  Not My Mate

  Second Time Charm

  Harry Ever After

  All My Broken Pieces

  LOYAL

  (Shifters and Partners Box Set 1-10)

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  (or write me at Hollis.shiloh@gmail.com)