by Gayle, Linda
“I am. This way.”
His fingers flexed restlessly. “You’re a stupid, stubborn fuck.”
Dylan outright laughed. “You ain’t the first to say so.”
With a sigh and a scowl, Cam dropped his arm. “All right. I don’t know what we’ll find, but I have to follow it. The…sound. Please, don’t get involved, whatever you do.”
“What’s it, demons?”
“No! Don’t be daft.” He dragged his hand over his head like the headache had just gotten worse. “Let’s just go. And you stay out of it.”
Without saying another word—at least he sometimes knew when to keep his mouth shut—Dylan strode beside him. He still didn’t hear anything, but Cam seemed to know where he was going, threading between buildings, skirting through yards. They walked about a quarter mile, way too far for any sound to have reached them.
“You heard something from way over here?” Dylan finally couldn’t resist asking.
Cam stopped short, almost as if he’d forgotten Dylan was there, he’d been so focused on following his invisible trail of bread crumbs. “I’ll explain it later. Shh. I…”
Suddenly, on the quiet autumn air, a sound did carry. A crunch of breaking glass. A shout. A car horn. “This way.” Cam bolted toward a chain-link fence surrounding a brick building that looked like a school.
Hot on his heels, Dylan could hardly keep up, but he swooped over the fence, nearly whooping at the exhilaration as they charged across what must be an athletic field. There were two cars in the corner of the school’s parking lot and one hulking guy with a crowbar smashing his way into a little blue Corolla while two other thugs stood by.
This was the big hurry, to stop some guys stealing a stereo?
But just then, the passenger side opened, and a girl tumbled out onto her knees, clutching a crying toddler. Crowbar-guy swore and tore around the hood of the car, slowed only by his own massive bulk. Cam and Dylan were within yards now, Dylan’s heart about to rip out of his chest with adrenaline and effort, and he could see Crowbar’s face was a dark storm. He raised his weapon over the woman, who struggled to find her footing, burdened with the little kid. Shit.
Out of nowhere, Cam kicked into turbo or something, because he flew ahead of Dylan and rammed Crowbar. A classic football tackle, pow, head down, shoulder in the gut. Over the hood of the car they went, a thunder of bodies on metal and swearing and the clatter of the crowbar skittering across the pavement.
Dylan got to the girl, grabbed her arm, and pulled her up.
“You motherfucker, you get away from me!” Her brown eyes flashed, and her tearstained face twisted in fury. The little boy she clutched to her chest screamed, fistfuls of her shirt gripped in tiny wet hands.
“I’m a friend!” Dylan shouted. No friend of Crowbar’s, though, or of his buddies, and one of them was lumbering toward them right now. Without thinking, Dylan pushed the girl behind him. “Leave her alone.” He held out a hand, like a cop stopping traffic. Yeah, like that would work.
The big dude took three steps toward him, during which Dylan thought he might piss his pants he was so scared, and then wham, the guy staggered forward, attacked from behind. He whirled with his fists balled and walked right into some kind of karate chop-chop from Cam, who then finished him off with a couple of kicks to the ribs, one to the head, and one gorgeous flying jump kick to his chest that Dylan wished he could film and play back in slow motion again and again. The guy went down like a bag of bricks.
It was all over in a matter of seconds. The girl behind Dylan sobbed noisily, and the toddler had worn himself down to sniffles. Righting his dark glasses, Cam strode over to them.
Dylan grabbed him by the front of his jacket, scanning for damage. “You okay, dude?”
He nodded, breathing hard, and shoved his hair off his forehead. To the girl, he said, “We can escort you to safety.”
How classy he sounded. Dylan felt a shiver of pride just being associated with him. “Or call the cops for you,” Dylan added, feeling like he should say something. Not that he had a cell phone. Hopefully Cam had one.
She wiped her nose on her sleeve. Cam produced a white paper napkin he must have saved from the theater and handed it to her. Gallant son of a bitch. She wiped her son’s face first, assuming that was her son, then mopped up her own tears. “Thank you,” she said finally.
She was pretty, petite, with beautiful mocha skin and corn rows pulled back in a thick braid at the collar of her denim jacket. Her bruises looked fresh. Dylan glanced back over his shoulder where the three men lay unconscious. Guess it wouldn’t be sporting to smash their heads in with the crowbar now, but he’d sure like to.
Cam gently cupped her elbow. “Do you have somewhere you can go, someone you can call?”
“My sister,” she said, nodding. He produced a cell phone, thank fuck, and she stepped away to dial.
The little boy, maybe two or three—who knew with kids?—gnawed on her shoulder and looked at him and Cam with huge, watery brown eyes. Fuck. No one should terrorize women and babies like that.
While she made her call, Dylan glanced at the unconscious men and muttered to Cam, “What about them? Are we just going to leave ’em like that?”
He wiped his palms on his thighs. “Yes. We’ll have to. I can’t be involved with the police.”
“That’s a fucking shame. I’d really like to see them locked up.”
“So would I, but we’ve done what we can.”
He glanced at Cam’s eyes, hidden behind the sunglasses. “Sure you couldn’t work your mojo on them?”
His mouth tightened. “Too many questions.”
He wasn’t sure if he meant it would raise too many questions or if Dylan asked too many questions, but it didn’t matter, because the girl came back over and handed the cell phone to Cam. “My sister’s gonna pick me up at the Getty station across the street.” She pointed to where a shabby gas and convenience store stood. “After that, I’m gonna live with my mama in New Orleans.” She narrowed her eyes at Crowbar, who sprawled facedown in front of the car, a mountain of waste. Her expression shivered for a moment from anger to regret to God knew what else, and she shifted from foot to foot. “He dead?”
Cam shook his head. “No. They’ll be coming around soon enough. We should take you over there.”
“I gotta get my diaper bag.” She eyed the car warily as if it were electrified.
Dylan said, “I’ll get it. Anything else you need in there?”
“No. He took everything else.” She looked up at the sky the way people do when they’re trying not to cry, and rocked with the toddler riding her hip. “That’s why he’s so angry. He took everything but my baby and my life. Now I’m getting away from him. Finally.”
Cam put his hand on her shoulder. “That’s good. You’ll do well.”
Really wishing he could plug those asshats, Dylan went to the car. Adrenaline still rattled him from the inside out, and his brain struggled to sort out what had just happened. He’d think about it later. He found the diaper bag and brought it over to them, and he and Cam escorted Maya, as she introduced herself, and little Leon to safety.
Worse and worse. Cam paced restlessly alongside the brick wall of the convenience store, his mind whirling with options, none of them good. His body felt charged with energy, though he did his best to maintain a calm outward appearance, as he had been schooled to do. There was something feral and savagely satisfying in attacking those men that disturbed him deeply. At times like this, his monstrous soul surged and writhed beneath his skin like boiling oil. So hard to shake it off, to push it down. He took a deep breath, grateful for the dark glasses covering his evil eyes.
Dylan got up from where he sat with the woman and approached him. Gritting his teeth, Cam dropped his gaze to his shoes.
“Hey, you okay?” He put a cool hand on Cam’s cheek, and Cam jerked his head away before he even thought about what he was doing. Surprise crossed Dylan’s face only for a second before conc
ern replaced it. How could he be surprised by anything after he’d seen Cam’s bestial nature?
“I’m all right,” Cam muttered, reaching for calm before he asked, “How’s she?” He shrugged a shoulder toward Maya, who sat sheltered on a steel bench, cradling her sleeping child.
“Okay, I guess. Sister should be here any sec. You sure you’re not hurt?”
He grimaced and kicked a pebble. “I am. Sure, that is.”
Turning his body so Maya’s gaze would be blocked, Dylan leaned against the wall. “You were pretty hot back there, dude. Gotta hand it to you.”
He didn’t want to hear words of praise for what he’d done. Sooner or later, the calling would get him killed, or worse, he’d lose control and kill someone else. Not for the first time, he wished his instincts led him to golden treasure, the way Tash’s did, or any other cockatrice’s. No, he had to be different. And now he’d dragged Dylan into it.
He glanced down the road, wishing the sister would hurry. They’d been waiting fifteen minutes already. The boyfriend and his gang in the parking lot had come around, searched the area briefly, but hadn’t come this way. With a squeal of tires, they’d driven off, and the tension had visibly drained from Maya. But he and Dylan were stuck here until she got a ride.
Firm fingers touched his jaw, turning his head. Dylan peered at him, frowning. “What’s going on in there behind those shades, hmm? I can tell something’s wrong.”
He didn’t jerk away again but allowed himself to sink into Dylan’s palm. A new, strange emotion rattled through him. He’d never shared these moments with another being. Dylan’s touch offered comfort, an almost completely foreign sensation.
“Just adrenaline,” he said, though it was more than that. The calling reminded him he was more monster than man, that the man-shape he wore was as much a mask as his sunglasses and mirrored lenses. A trick of light and shadow, designed to deceive. He looked at Dylan’s earnest, caring face and felt his heart drop. His deception ate at him, a longing for honesty like a sharp pain in his chest. Without even realizing he’d done it, he found he’d reached out and curled his hand on Dylan’s waist.
Dylan moved closer, into the crook of Cam’s arm, his body heat soothing against the chill that seemed to have gripped Cam’s muscles. He put a hand flat against Cam’s stomach, his fingers brushing lightly. “Whatever it is, we’ll work it out, yeah? You did good. Those guys deserved what you gave ’em and more, so don’t you feel bad about that.”
“I…I don’t feel bad.”
“So what’s the problem, then?”
Before Cam could respond, a battered Honda pulled in, and Maya stood, her sleeping son like a sack of potatoes in her arms. “That’s my sister.” She lifted her chin, then hefted her child and diaper bag, and walked away. Her sister, who looked like much like her, only heavier and older, eyed them warily as she held the back door. Maya buckled the baby into a car seat, then slid into the passenger side. Neither said another word before the doors shut and they drove off. Maybe she didn’t like gays and didn’t know what to say after two had rescued her. Who knew with humans…
“Shit, didn’t even say thanks,” Dylan huffed. “And after I gave her my last twenty bucks.”
Cam shoved his fingers through his hair. “At least that’s resolved.”
“Yup. Now what’s wrong with you? That’s what I want to know. You ain’t been right since you heard that voice, whatever the fuck that was. You and I both know you didn’t hear nothing.”
“There’s something wrong with me.”
“What? What’s wrong? You look fine to me. Damn good, actually.”
“I…I hear things. Like when someone’s in trouble. Like the night I found you.”
“So…you heard me from far away, like you did Maya?”
He nodded. “You saw where I lived.” It was at least as far as the park had been from the movie theater.
“And you knew, while you were in your house, that I needed you somehow?” He anchored his hand on Cam’s hip but didn’t pull away, thank God. Cam would die if Dylan found him repulsive for this.
“The calling for you was stronger than usual. It started in the morning”—he dug his fingers into his scalp, still feeling the phantom burning presence—“and by evening, it felt like bees under my skin, biting.”
“It’s wasps that bite. Bees sting,” Dylan said, though by his pensive expression, it was clear his mind absorbed this new information. Cam was endlessly grateful Dylan seemed to be taking events in stride. “So…wow…I think that’s really chill. So it’s like a Spidey-sense or something?”
“It’s torture. Sheer burning agony unless I follow it. For a long time, Tash tried to train it out of me, but nothing helped, nothing stopped it. If we’re somewhere quiet, it’s not so bad, but here, in the city, it comes every few days.”
“I wasn’t your first, then, huh?” Astonishingly, he smiled at Cam.
“No. But you were my best.” He lifted his fingers to touch Dylan’s cheek. “You can see why I didn’t want you to follow me. I don’t know what I’ll run into, but there’s always a fight, often with more than one man. It seems to be the nature of the…the beast.” He let his arm fall away and sighed. “I don’t want to be this way.”
“Hell, man, it ain’t no thang.” He laid on the street drawl thick and crowded Cam against the wall. “You were sexy as fuck laying into those asswipes. This town needs more people like you. You’re like a fucking superhero.”
“I’m just a man,” he practically moaned, but of course that wasn’t true. He was a ravening creature that warred against the gold chain that bound him, that yearned to tear and claw soft human flesh. A living lie. He turned into Dylan’s embrace and buried his face against his throat. “I want to be just a man.”
Dylan didn’t understand what was bugging Cam so bad, but what he did know was that he wanted to fuck him, hard and fast. All that adrenaline needed an outlet. His skin felt too tight for his body, and his dick had been half hard since he’d seen that flying kick.
Narrowing his eyes, he gave a quick look up and down the alley. Sadly, it was too public here for even a BJ, but that was okay. He was a clever boy, as his old grandpa used to say, and he had ideas.
He took Cam’s hand. “C’mon, there’s something I gotta get from the store.”
“Here? Now?”
He laughed. “Yeah. That’s why they call it a convenience store, ’cause it’s convenient. Actually, there’s something I want you to get for me.”
Cam’s drawn brows nearly made him laugh again as they walked into the dingy place. “Surely you’re old enough to buy your own beer?”
Aware of the Pakistani-looking dude behind the counter scowling at his and Cam’s clasped hands, Dylan tightened his grip. Fuck him. “It’s not beer I want.” He pulled Cam down the candy aisle toward the freezers with the soda and energy drinks, where the counter guy couldn’t see what was going on below their chests. While he pretended to consider the bottles, he turned a little sideways and dragged his palm up Cam’s thigh and up and down Cam’s cock. Cam stiffened—all over. Nice.
“Remember our plans for later? I wanna get started.” Dylan murmured.
“Here, in the store?” Cam’s whole face was red. Dylan could see their reflection in the case glass and knew Cam could too, and by the feel of him inside his jeans, he liked it, no matter how flustered he seemed.
“Trust me.” He leaned a little closer, never stopping the slow up-down of his palm, keeping one eye on the reflection of the staring shop clerk. “You gotta buy condoms. And lube.”
Cam’s whole body jerked. Dylan smiled. “Think you can do that?”
“I don’t know. Yes. Maybe. Yes…”
“You want to do that?” he asked with a squeeze.
“Yes.” Cam took a short step back as if to get his head back together. “Yes, absolutely.”
“Good. They’re behind the counter. You gotta ask that guy.”
Cam whipped his head around to
meet the beady-eyed, disapproving glare of the clerk. He swallowed hard. Dylan watched his Adam’s apple bob. “I c-can’t. He’ll know.”
“What? He’ll know what?” He edged closer again, this time running his fingers under the back of Cam’s T-shirt, teasing the skin along his spine. “When you walk up to the register with a fat stiffy and your face all flushed and ask for condoms and lube, you think he’ll know what we’re gonna do with ’em?”
Cam made a strangled snort and looked back at Dylan. Even with his eyes hidden, Dylan could read his expression—horrified but hot and horny. He slid his hand over Cam’s ass. “Or we can skip it,” Dylan whispered.
“I’ll do it,” Cam gasped out. He swallowed again, muttered something about being insane under his breath, then stepped back to adjust himself. He gave Dylan a scolding frown before he tugged down his T-shirt and walked up to the clerk.
Hanging back, Dylan watched the clerk divide his suspicion between him and Cam. Probably he figured Cam was the distraction while Dylan would shoplift, but Dylan didn’t need any of this sugary shit. What he needed was six-foot-something of sweaty, flustered ninja.
Cam approached the counter and mumbled his request.
Without a word, the clerk grabbed a box of Trojans and K-Y and slapped them down in from of Cam. The sharp smack made Cam jerk, and Dylan chuckled under his breath. Man, he was evil. Cam paid; the clerk shoved the goods into a brown paper bag, then practically threw it at Cam’s chest. Cam caught the bag, and when he turned, his face was as red as a can of Coke.
Dylan moved to the door and opened it wide for him so Cam could bolt out. Three steps into the sunshine, and Dylan couldn’t help it, he started laughing.
“Well, that was the most humiliating thing I’ve ever had to do,” Cam muttered, but then in the next breath, he started laughing too. “You’re a dick, you know that?”
“Shit, I thought that clerk was gonna go medieval on your ass. Or at least kick us out.”
Just then the clerk burst out of the store and pointed to the “No Loitering” sign, spouting off in thickly accented, agitated English.
