Learning Curve

by Jools Louise

Slade shifted, as well, and a second later was tracking Shark’s scent, with Ice following closely behind. Despite the rain, since he was mated to Shark, the wolverine’s aroma came through loud and clear. There was another trace, fainter, less noticeable, that had Slade puzzled. He knew a lot of people in town, even though he’d only been back for a few months now, but this was a new one. He had a bad feeling about it.

  He headed along the street, picking up droplets of blood, but thankfully not Shark’s. That didn’t mean his mate wasn’t in trouble. He sensed another presence behind him and snarled a greeting at a big snow leopard shifter—John, who was also an excellent tracker. Three more joined them, including Jay, John’s brother, a huge Siberian tiger shifter, Mick, and Slade’s friends and deputy sheriffs, Tobias and Brody, who were African lion shifters like him.

  They heard a vehicle drive up, close to the curb, and the sheriff stepped onto the sidewalk. “I have a full search going on,” he advised them. “Freddy’s doing aerial duty again. We’ll find him, Slade.”

  Slade nodded and then went back to tracking, taking him to the far end of town where some older houses stood, out toward the main highway. The town had expanded rapidly since the Two Spirit Tournament, with many shifters visiting for the competition and then deciding to stay. Some three thousand lived in town and on the outskirts, making it impossible to keep track of everyone. A census had been completed the previous year, but that only worked for people who wanted to stay on the straight and narrow. Chances were, whoever had Shark was keeping under the radar.

  Pace kept up with them in his vehicle, keeping his lights off so as not to alert anyone to his presence. They drew closer to one house, with a light on in one of the front rooms. Behind there was a cacophony of noise, cheering and shouts from what sounded like a large group of people. The property wasn’t too far from the gas station just outside of town, on the main highway, but it was set back from the road, in shadows, surrounded by trees.

  “Surround the place,” Pace whispered to the shifters, stepping out as he studied the place. “Let me try this the legal way first. If that doesn’t work, I’ll holler for help.”

  Slade snorted and padded around the side of the large building. He heard snarls and sounds of a fight, and stared in disgust at the sight of two wolverines locked in brutal combat, fur flying as they tumbled over and over in a makeshift fighting ring, not unlike that of ones he’d seen constructed for dog fighting. He scented Shark and realized his mate was one of the combatants. A large crowd was roaring with approval at the vicious struggle between the fighters.

  What the fuck?

  The bunch of people cheering jubilantly were not familiar. Slade had never seen any of them before. He smirked to himself as he edged closer, as they had yet to notice the extra-large lion stalking them. He kept low to the ground, crawling on his belly, ever closer to the raucous crowd.

  An alarm sounded, and Slade froze, thinking he’d been discovered, only to see the wolverines dragged apart. One looked in desperate straits, one leg obviously broken, its fur bloody and matted from several bite wounds. At this distance, Slade couldn’t decipher if it was Shark or not.

  He tensed as he felt someone move up close beside him and saw a small fox shifter. Cullen? He gave a low questioning chuff and sniffed. Definitely Cullen. What was he doing there? He noted the small shifter was panting and figured he must have run the whole way here. Where the hell had he been? He wasn’t on Ryder or Pace’s field team, but worked as a computer tech since he hated fighting.

  Cullen shifted briefly. “I’ve been studying this place,” he whispered. “There’s been a lot of unusual activity recently, and after all the disappearances, I wondered whether this was one of the safe houses that Flashpoint seemed to have set up. What better way than to hide in plain sight? Right under our noses.” Slade grunted in agreement, and Cullen continued. “The crowd are mostly wolverines, from three of the bigger clans. I just got through their security wall and found out they’re part of Shark’s family.” He pointed to two men, of similar height and build to Shark. “That’s his cousin, Smack, and his uncle Toad.”

  Slade rolled his eyes at the names. Smack and Toad? What was with these wolverines, naming their children like that?

  The uncle, Toad, lifted the injured wolverine, shaking him angrily until the poor creature stopped moving. Slade snarled softly. He heard the doorbell chime at the front of the house and watched as the crowd began to flee rapidly. Until several large predators emerged from the perimeter of the property, corralling the gamblers by virtue of several impressive sets of dentistry, bared menacingly. Slade grinned and padded forward, as Cullen shifted back into his fox form.

  He moved toward Toad, letting out a loud, deadly roar, and was satisfied to see the fuckwit blanch with terror, flinging the unconscious wolverine right at him before trying to escape back into the house. Sheriff Pace appeared, gun drawn, and grabbed the shifter by the scruff, lifting him easily and dragging him back outside. Slade nudged the injured wolverine with his nose and was relieved to hear him still breathing. It wasn’t Shark. The guy needed urgent medical attention, though.

  “Who’s that?” Pace asked Slade.

  Slade shrugged, wanting to remain in his present form, then shifted, and stood on two legs, snarling into Toad’s ugly mug. “That’s Shark’s uncle, named Toad apparently. Over there is his son, Smack. Cullen says these guys are all part of the wolverine clans.”

  “Perhaps Cullen can explain what’s going on, then,” Pace drawled, eyeing the fox shifter steadily until the little guy complied and became human once again. He explained what he’d found out.

  Slade sniffed the wolverine that lay on the ground again, breathing, but still unconscious. Looking over at the ring, he smiled a little when he saw what he thought was Shark snapping at the heels of some of the crowd, his fangs making contact every so often, enough to make his victims yelp and jump out of the way.

  “I’ve called Rafe,” Pace said. “He and Joe want to talk to these guys. Ryder had to head to Washington, DC, again with Murphy. We’ve been given permission to interrogate these losers and find out what they think they’re doing, having these bouts in Sage.”

  Shark shifted to human form and came over, looking bruised and bearing the marks of his recent fight. He looked exhausted, but not broken as he glared at his uncle. “Losers is the perfect description,” he snarled. “They’re greedy, selfish, and lazy,” he said, snapping his jaws at Toad viciously and then fixing Smack with a glare. “This halfwit here is the one who smashed John’s window and has been vandalizing premises all over town. The older douchebag here is behind it all. He and my other uncle, Reuben, have taken over the fight rings since Ghost is no longer with us. They know a lot about who’s working in England, on the Fortress side, in conjunction with Flashpoint.” He jerked his chin at the unconscious wolverine.

  “They injected him with an experimental drug they were going to use on Fly. It’s like giving us an extra strong dose of testosterone, and he went ballistic. This is an old school friend. Trash.”

  “He’s called Trash?” Slade asked in disbelief, tugging Shark into his arms and holding him close.

  Shark nodded, nuzzling into Slade’s chest, sighing with relief. “He and I were really close. His parents stopped us from seeing one another when I came out and started dating Oliver. Trash isn’t bothered about homosexuality. But they’re all prejudiced morons in our family. Oh, and did I mention they’re lazy and greedy, too?”

  A siren sounded, and soon after, three large police vans arrived, ready to load up the miscreants. Pace now had a fairly decent-sized force, and he soon had everyone on their way to a shifter-run facility upstate.

  “Rafe and Joe will meet them there,” he said.

  “Is Drew okay?” Shark asked. “Smack hit him across the back of the head, knocked him out. I fought, and Smack ran away. I followed him, knowing he would lead me to their bolt-hole.” He winced ruefully. “Didn’t expect this setup though.”
>
  Pace watched the police vehicles, heavy-duty, armor-plated affairs that were specially designed for transporting the criminal element of the shifter community. “This is big,” he said, frowning. “If Flashpoint have entire clans in their clutches, you can imagine how much clout they have across the nation.”

  “I heard Toad say they were planning to expand right across America,” Shark said. “He also mentioned who was now in charge of Flashpoint.”

  “Who?” Pace asked sharply.

  “Someone calling themselves Shadow,” Shark replied, shrugging when Pace arched a brow. “I know. We had a Ghost, now a Shadow. I’m just telling you what I heard.”

  “So we still have no clue, really, who Shadow actually is?” Slade said, snorting.

  “Apparently Flashpoint like to stay under the radar,” Pace said dryly. “Shadow, huh? That could be anyone.”

  “They also mentioned someone called Dorothy. Apparently she was married to Sir Aaron Fielding and has a son called Arthur. When he was killed, she inherited his entire estate. Everything. She’s a wealthy woman now.”

  “Dorothy?” Cullen asked, frowning. “I heard about a fox shifter named Dorothy. She disappeared around the time my friends were killed in England, last year. I can’t imagine she would be part of this.”

  “She isn’t, but she’s being hunted,” Shark told him. “Apparently Fortress are very interested in making contact, because she’s reported to have stolen the codes to Fielding’s offshore accounts. The British Government and our very own Warrior Mikhail have commandeered his other assets in Wales and London, but those accounts contain a huge amount of money. Dirty money that Fielding acquired through his illegal hunting activities. Gambling, money laundering. You name it—if it made a profit, he was into it.”

  Cullen huffed with irritation. “How come you found that out?” he said, pouting at having his thunder stolen. “I’m the computer hacker. You run a chicken restaurant.”

  Shark grinned at him and then began laughing. “Smack and his dad aren’t exactly intelligent. I tricked them into telling me a bunch of stuff before they forced me to fight poor Trash, here. He just kept attacking me, after they taunted him and pushed him around, then gave him the drug.”

  Trash began to come round, and his eyes blinked open. He shifted, looking up at the bunch of naked men standing around, as the rescue crew gathered closer.

  “Geez. If I’d known this would be the welcoming committee, I’d have visited Sage sooner,” he said, wincing as he struggled to stand. His leg buckled, and he collapsed again, panting heavily.

  “You’re gay?” Shark asked in shock. “My gaydar must need tuning. I never knew.”

  “I was too scared to say anything, especially after what happened to you guys.” He jerked his chin to the fight ring. “See? They found out a couple of weeks ago and look where I am.”

  Tobias, his thick dark hair falling to his shoulders, his eyes a stunning amber, studied Trash with interest, stepping forward. “If you need a place to stay, we have room,” he said gently.

  Trash stared at the man’s huge cock, and then his gaze roamed over the rest of him. “I’ll bear that in mind,” he said faintly, flushing furiously.

  Slade laughed. “Geez, Tobias, leave the poor guy alone for just a second. He just had his ass handed to him.”

  “Yeah, and such a gorgeous ass it is, too,” Tobias growled huskily.

  “We’ll need to clear this place,” Pace said wryly, rolling his eyes. “Then you can make goo-goo eyes at Trash all you want…once he’s safely in hospital. He needs that leg tended to.”

  Tobias nodded, nostrils flaring, and then backed off. “May I visit you in hospital?” he asked.

  Brody knelt in front of the small shifter and leaned forward, kissing Trash fiercely, seductively, until the man was moaning softly. He released Trash’s lips, grinning up at Tobias. “Mind sharing?” he asked, winking.

  “Only if Trash doesn’t mind,” Tobias said, winking at the smaller shifter.

  Slade groaned at their antics. Trash had just caught the interest of the two most competitive lion shifters on the planet. The pair enjoyed a healthy sex life, but on closer inspection, they were looking at Trash with more than casual interest. He sniggered.

  “Oh, boy. You two are toast, aren’t you? The playboys are hooked.” Slade grinned widely, since they were barely listening to him, focused entirely on Trash.

  Tobias nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess so,” he replied softly, smiling down at Trash. “And I can’t imagine a better fisherman. This cutie is stunning.”

  Slade had to agree. Trash was slender, his face possessing an androgynous beauty that was aided by a pair of stunning green eyes, black hair that fell to his slim shoulders, and a toned body that showed he was not averse to hard work.

  “Are you still working as an artist?” Shark asked his friend, smiling at the interaction.

  Trash didn’t respond for a moment, staring at the two big shifters as though he’d just found the Holy Grail. “Yes, I make jewelry, still,” he responded at last.

  “We can always use more artists in Sage,” Slade said. “In fact, there are a couple of vacant lots that would be perfect for a studio.”

  Trash murmured an unintelligible response, and Slade exchanged an amused glance with Pace. “Toast,” Slade mouthed to the sheriff, who chuckled and nodded.

  “Come on, little fella, let’s get you to the hospital,” Tobias drawled, scooping Trash up in his arms. “You need lots of TLC, sweetie. And me and Brody here would love to take care of you.”

  Slade watched as Trash nuzzled against the big shifter and shook his head.

  “Be gentle,” he told his friend, who nodded seriously.

  “He won’t have to fear a thing from us,” Tobias said, his amber eyes gleaming with soft highlights as he gazed down at the little shifter.

  Trash blushed charmingly and then was escorted to the waiting ambulance.

  “You go, too,” Pace urged Slade. “Shark’s been through a pretty tough time, too.”

  Slade nodded. “Come on, Shark, time to go home,” he said.

  Chapter Eleven

  Slade eyed his companions with a droll look. He should have known he wouldn’t be able to keep this secret quiet for long. Sage had ears on every street corner, and eyes watching every move. He would remember not to mention a thing to Kaden, who—being the stylist he was and working with the two biggest gossips on the block—had told Alfie and Fly all about Slade’s surprise.

  He heard soft giggles and murmurs of excitement as he walked down the central concourse of the mall, toward Feeling Clucky.

  “Would you all be quiet?” he hissed, exasperated by all the noise. “They’ll hear you.”

  “Trust me, Slade, in that outfit, they’ll see you coming way before they hear you. That suit is loud!”

  “John, you’re not helping,” Slade groused, glaring at the man, who smirked back unrepentantly. “What do I have to do to make you all go away?”

  “He’s funny,” Mick drawled, a business owner and a member of the Two Spirit crew. “We’re wanting to see the big badass biker go all gooey when he shows his mates all this sexiness.”

  “They may go blind,” Douglas drawled, his sightless eyes hidden by dark glasses. “Given your description of his attire, I’m quite glad I can’t see.”

  “Darling, that isn’t nice,” his mate, Cracker, replied, grinning widely. “It’s not the suit that’s going to frighten his mates.”

  Kaden chuckled, trying to be quiet, but failing miserably. “Dude, I can’t actually believe you’re doing this.”

  Slade scowled at the comedians trailing after him. “Dude,” he said sarcastically. “Fuck off.”

  There was a burst of laughter from his groupies, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he reached his destination. He frowned as he looked through the window. The restaurant was empty, and his mates were nowhere in sight. The door was open, with Joe standing in the center of the shop, all the chairs
and tables pushed to the edges, balloons and banners festooned everywhere. “White Wedding,” by Billy Idol was playing on a small stereo system.

  “Glad you could make it,” Joe said, smiling.

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Slade said grumpily. “Who told them?”

  “Guess who?” Joe retorted, laughing as he pointed at the crowd. “It’s been a while since we had a wedding. So everyone decided, given Sage’s history of unexpected events turning up to stop our fun, that we’d let you propose, and then get you all married off right after. It’s a win-win.”

  “I wanted it to be romantic,” Slade replied, pouting.

  “It is romantic,” Oliver said from behind him, dressed in a gorgeous tuxedo, giggling softly. “We think it’s pretty cool that you went to all this trouble.”

  “Yeah, stud, we’re loving the suit. The chicken logo all over it really works,” Shark added, clad the same as Oliver, moving to stand beside him.

  Slade smiled at the pair, who were staring approvingly at his attire. The suit in question was bright yellow, with brown trim, and had the Feeling Clucky logo printed all over it, along with a flock of silly chickens. His gift, along with matching engagement rings and wedding bands, was a whole load of Feeling Clucky souvenirs. Pens, pencils, notebooks, crayons, all with the logo on them. He knew it was a little cheesy, but he also knew how proud they were of their business, which was firing on all cylinders now their family was out of the picture.

  Toad and Smack were still answering a series of questions at Ryder’s special facility upstate. The others had been warned that the next wolverine clan who attempted to extort or hurt a resident of Sage would be torn to pieces, right there on Main Street. So far, their luck was holding, and for the past eight weeks, nothing bad had happened. It was almost too quiet, hence Slade’s decision to have this ceremony. Joe, as the unofficial mayor, had invited a shifter pastor to officiate, since shifter weddings had a different legal status than humans enjoyed. Polygamy among consenting shifters was now recognized, but only in the town of Sage, which had been given special status under Federal and State law. It had been a long fought battle.