Trained to Protect

by Lynn Hagen

  

  Brac Village 28

  Trained to Protect

  Twenty years ago Maltese fled from his family, unwilling to do as his father demanded. But before he ran away, his father stripped him of his demon powers. Now Maltese finds himself in Brac Village, scrambling to save his friend’s life. But once that’s done, he walks away, going back to his lonely existence. Until Deputy Vincent Stransky walks into the diner and sits down across from Maltese, irrevocably changing his life forever.

  Vince knows Maltese is his mate, but the guy is so unreachable that he struggles to find a way to tell him. Maltese trusts no one, including Vince. When someone opens fire on them on the streets of their small town, it’s up to Vince to protect his mate and find the person who’s threatening Maltese’s life. As they race to find out who is after Maltese, a bond grows between them as they explore their deep connection to one another.

  Genres: Alternative (M/M, Gay), Contemporary, Paranormal, Romantic Suspense, Shape-shifter

  Length: 29,216

  TRAINED TO PROTECT

  Brac Village 28

  Lynn Hagen

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  Trained to Protect

  Copyright © 2019 by Lynn Hagen

  ISBN: 978-1-64243-644-0

  First Publication: February 2019

  Cover design by Emma Nicole

  All art and logo copyright © 2019 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book or print book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at legal@sirenbookstrand.com

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lynn Hagen loves writing about the somewhat flawed, but lovable. She also loves a hero who can see past all the rough edges to find the shining diamond of a beautiful heart.

  You can find her on any given day curled up with her laptop and a cup of hot java, letting the next set of characters tell their story.

  For all titles by Lynn Hagen, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/lynn-hagen

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TRAINED TO PROTECT

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  TRAINED TO PROTECT

  Brac Village 28

  LYNN HAGEN

  Copyright © 2019

  Chapter One

  As soon as Maltese was done making the potion and it was ready, he gave it to Dillon and slipped out the back door when no one was watching. The masking agent he had given Dillon should be enough to wean Max off the stuff.

  Although Maltese had warned Max of the consequences should he go cold turkey, he still felt like shit for Max going through this. That was it. Maltese was done with the potions business. He’d nearly killed a great guy, all to make a quick buck.

  He walked down the driveway and headed toward town, wondering where he was gonna go from here. It wasn’t as though he had a home to go to. He’d been finding couches to sleep on and, sometimes, back alleys to catch some shuteye for the night.

  If his father hadn’t been a piece of shit, Maltese could’ve gone home. But he’d rather spend the night in the underworld than face his father again.

  With his hands jammed into his pockets, Maltese walked the long and dark country road. Too bad his demon powers had been stripped from him. He was basically human now, with paltry talents involving magical potions. He had no marketable skills, had no home, no friends, and couldn’t even go to the demon realm because the demon warriors wanted his head on a platter.

  He was screwed.

  When he reached town, Maltese stopped at the diner and looked inside the large window. He pulled out what little money he had from his pocket and counted it before going inside. The wondrous smells made his stomach growl as someone hollered, “Sit wherever you want.”

  Maltese slid into the booth and grabbed the menu from the table, looking his choices over and trying to figure out how to fill his stomach with only ten bucks to his name. While he gazed at the items, his mind went back to riding with Deputy Vincent Stransky as they went to get the recipe Maltese had hidden.

  The snow leopard was the most handsome man Maltese had ever laid eyes on. The guy was dreamy with a side of sexy. Vince had to be at least six feet, three inches, with a lean, muscled body and killer green eyes. Too bad Maltese didn’t have a shot at the guy.

  “What drink can I start you off with?” the waiter asked when he approached Maltese’s table.

  “Ice water,” Maltese said. “And I’ll take a grilled cheese and fries.”

  He hoped the waiter didn’t argue that his selection was from the kids menu and was relieved when the guy simply nodded and walked away.

  He pulled his cell phone out and was playing one of his games as he waited for his food when he felt someone next to him. Maltese looked up and saw Vince sliding into the seat across from him.

  “If you’ve come to arrest me, at least let me eat a decent meal first.” Maltese tucked his phone away and waited for the deputy to reply. He’d been acting real strange around Maltese ever since they’d taken that ride together earlier. The guy just kept staring at him, as if Maltese were a puzzle to figure out.

  “Arrest you for what?”

  The waiter returned with Maltese’s water and set the glass down before smiling at Vince. “Hey, Deputy Stransky. Did you want to order something?”

  “Thanks, Tangee,” Vince said. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.” He pointed to Maltese.

  “You might want to reconsider,” Maltese mumbled. Vince was a large lean guy who could probably put away the calories. A grilled cheese and some fries would be more like a starter for him, not his main meal.

  With a nod, Tangee walked away.

  “So, why would I arrest you?” Vince repeated.

  Maltese gazed into his pretty green eyes and then looked away, feeling worthless. “Attempted murder, since everyone seems to think I tried to kill Max.”

  Tangee not only brought Vince’s water but their plates. To Maltese’s surprise, the fries were stacked high and the grilled cheese was on large slices of Italian bread.

  He grabbed the napkin-wrapped silverware and used the napkin to wipe the water stains from his fork. As he did, Maltese looked around and noticed there weren’t too many people in the diner this late, but there were a few men seated at the counter, talking amongst themselves.

  “Can you bring us some sodas?” Vince crossed his arms on the table as he gave the waiter a handsome smile. When Vince grinned like that, showing off his pearly-white teeth, Maltese’s heart skipped a beat.

  Tangee nodded. “Sure thing, Deputy.”

  “I told you that you should’ve ordered something else.” Maltese squirted a large dollop of ketchup onto his plate.

  “What’re
you talking about?” Vince popped a fry into his mouth and then huffed, taking a sip of his water. “Hot.”

  “They’re fresh.” Maltese smirked. “Of course they’re hot.”

  “And perfect.” Vince nodded. “I haven’t had grilled cheese since I was a kid.” He smacked his lips and rubbed his hands together before he picked the sandwich up.

  With his wiped-off fork, Maltese stabbed a fry and then dipped it into the ketchup, careful of how hot it was. Vince was right. The fries were perfect.

  “Were you trying to poison Max?” Vince ate every last fry on his plate. He took a drink of the soda the waiter had brought them and then tossed an arm over the back of the booth.

  Maltese crinkled his nose. “Of course not.”

  He looked toward the counter to make sure the men seated there hadn’t heard him. Not that he really cared because he didn’t plan on sticking around this town. He’d already caused a big enough mess here, and it was time he moved on.

  Just as soon as he was done eating.

  “Then I’m not here to arrest you.” Vince bit into his sandwich, and his eyes rolled back.

  Maltese was mesmerized by how euphoric Vince’s expression was. Did the snow leopard act that way with every meal he ate?

  “That good?”

  Vince nodded as he chewed. He jabbed his finger a couple of times at his plate. “Damn good meal you picked.”

  If the guy only knew why Maltese had chosen it. “So, if you’re not here to arrest me, why are you sitting across from me?”

  Vince shrugged. He appeared at ease, but he had a look in his eyes that said he could spring into action at any second. The deputy also exuded power and authority that seemed leashed at the moment. “I don’t like eating alone, and since you were already here, why not share a meal together?”

  Okay. Max finished eating and sucked down his soda. He let go of a loud burp and patted his stomach. “Well, nice eating with you, but I’ve got places to be and people to see.”

  Maltese didn’t have a damn thing to do, but sitting across from the cop made him feel edgy. He didn’t like being around people of authority. That was one reason why he’d fled from his family over twenty years ago.

  He stood, but Vince shook his head and tapped the table with his finger. “We’re not done here.”

  Both their plates were empty. “What’re you talking about?”

  “Have a seat.” Vince moved his plate aside and folded his arms on the table. “Demons don’t know who their mates are unless they sleep with them, right?”

  Maltese wasn’t sure why Vince was bringing it up. “Right,” he said hesitantly. “What’s your point?”

  “When I took you earlier to get that magical recipe,” he said, “you got in the car and all I smelled was butterscotch, which, by the way, is my favorite candy.”

  “I’m a little slow on the uptake.” Maltese scratched behind his ear. “Are you asking me to get you some butterscotch from the candy store?” He was pretty sure the place was closed for the night, and besides, he was broke.

  Vince chuckled.

  Maltese looked out the big glass window. He didn’t like being made fun of. He wasn’t that bright to begin with, but he didn’t need the handsome deputy making him feel even dumber. “I gotta go.”

  Maltese scooted out of the booth, jerking his arm away when the guy tried to grab it. He dug into his pocket and tossed the ten down before moving quickly to the door.

  “Hey, wait.” Vince caught up to him on the street. Maltese shoved his hands into his pockets and kept going. “Will you stop for a second?”

  Maltese looked at the tan sedan that drove by before he stopped and turned. “What?”

  Vince wrinkled his nose. “Did I say something to offend you?”

  “I just need to get going.” He had to find a place to sleep for the night. He wasn’t sure why Vince was trying to have a conversation with him. Earlier, he’d been dead quiet in the car. Why was he trying to be all buddy-buddy now?

  “And I said we need to talk.” He circled around Maltese and waved at a red, brand-new-looking pickup. “Hop in.”

  “And go where?” Maltese had just met the guy today, and he wasn’t taking a ride from a stranger, cop or not. He might not have been born with a lot of common sense, but even he knew that was an idiotic move.

  “Don’t trust me?”

  “Not in the least.” He took a step back, putting a few more feet between them. “Whatever you have to talk about can be done right here on the street.”

  Two more cars passed, one thumping with loud music. Maltese waited for Vince to speak, but the guy just kept staring curiously at him. Unable to stop himself, Maltese let his gaze slide down Vince’s body. Vince had on a tight black T-shirt and his powerful thighs were encased in dark denim jeans. His pecs swelled under the shirt, and his biceps made the material tight around his arms.

  Maltese sighed at how gorgeous the deputy was and then caught himself and looked away.

  “I’d rather talk somewhere a bit cozier than the sidewalk.” Vince’s voice was deep and smooth and low, making Maltese look at him.

  “Why?”

  Vince let go of what sounded like a frustrated sigh. “Are you that afraid of me?”

  Without his powers, yes, Maltese was. “Where’re you talking about going?”

  “How about your place?”

  That would be a no since Maltese was homeless. “Not gonna happen.”

  “My place?” Vince gave him a dashing smile. “I promise you can trust me. I’m a cop, after all.”

  “Cops can be corrupt,” Maltese argued. “Just tell me what you want to say.”

  The night had grown cooler since Maltese had gone into the diner, and he felt a slight chill under his thin jacket when a light breeze slid past him.

  “Hang on. I left my jacket in my car.”

  At least one of them would be warm.

  Vince hit the fob on his keychain, and the truck chirped while the headlights flashed. He opened the door and pulled out a thick dark brown jacket. Instead of putting it on, he wrapped it around Maltese’s shoulders. “Better?”

  Instant warmth surrounded him as Maltese pulled it tighter around his upper body.

  “Can we at least talk in my truck where we can be warm?” Vince stepped off the curb and slid into the driver’s seat.

  The engine roared to life as Maltese debated on what he should do. Just the other day he’d been kidnapped, stabbed, beaten, and forced to take Taren to the underworld. Thankfully the demon leader had healed Maltese of all his injuries, but he hadn’t healed Maltese of his mistrust for strangers.

  He wasn’t a trusting man, but the thought of warmth had his tired feet moving toward the truck. He got into the passenger side and closed the door. “Try anything funny and I’ll cut your balls off.”

  The threat was downright laughable considering Maltese was a short demon with no powers. If Vince wanted to, he could pulverize Maltese with little effort.

  Vince held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Since I’ve grown quite attached to my balls, no funny stuff.”

  Max stuffed down the laugh that wanted to emerge. He eyed Vince as he noticed that the interior of the truck smelled just like the snow leopard—dark and masculine, with a hint of spice. The seats were made of cloth, and the warmth from the vent had Maltese yawning.

  “I’ll take you where you need to go,” Vince offered, “or we can sit here and talk. I’ll leave that up to you.”

  Maltese didn’t have a set destination in mind. “We can talk.”

  He wanted to enjoy the warmth a bit longer, but as the minutes ticked by, the sleepier he became. Maltese struggled to keep his eyes open, but it was an effort.

  Vince started to talk, but Maltese’s groggy mind wasn’t keeping up with the conversation. He yawned again and sank lower into the seat, curled in Vince’s warm jacket with the heat lightly blowing against him.

  “Maltese?”

  “Hmm?” He tried to
lift his eyelids, but he was so tired. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d gotten some shuteye. He hadn’t slept when Taren had kidnapped him, and everything after that had been a whirlwind of chaos.

  He was so exhausted that even his bones ached. Maltese snuggled into a ball, using Vince’s jacket as a blanket and tried once again to lift his eyelids, but it was a losing battle.

  * * * *

  “Maltese?” Vince frowned when he heard light snoring. “Well, this talk went well.” He strummed his fingers on his steering wheel, wondering what he should do. It was clear from the little bit they’d talked that his mate didn’t have a trusting bone in his body. He wanted to take Maltese to his house but feared the guy would flip out on him.

  Vince looked to his left when a car pulled in beside him. Dillon and Max got out. He was surprised Duke wasn’t with them. How Max loved that little yapping dog was beyond him, although he had to admit the dog was cute.

  Max had adopted Duke when the two had been kidnapped by some deranged dog catcher who planned on selling them to some pharmaceutical company. But Vince and Dillon had found where they’d been taken and rescued them before they’d been sold off.

  Vince wasn’t sure what had happened to the dog catcher, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t good since Maverick’s men had shown up to deal with him.

  Dillon strolled to his window, and Vince let it down so he could talk. When his best friend looked into the cab of his truck, a frown puckered between his eyes. “Why do you have Maltese in there?”

  “You better not be arresting him.” Max narrowed his eyes. His scowl turned into crinkled brows of curiosity. “Why is he asleep? Did you knock him out?”

  “No and no,” Vince said to Max. “He ate and got sleepy.”

  “So why is he in your truck?” Dillon asked.

  “Because the seat is more comfortable than the sidewalk.” Vince wanted to roll the window up to keep Maltese warm, but the two seemed too curious to leave, and Vince didn’t want to be rude to them and tell them to bug off.