by Deja Black
“Will be just enough to make them take notice of the photos I have taken, photos they will purchase and enable the Wishing Well to build the wing we need to house more displaced families. I want them to have a home, make their wishes a reality.”
“As you did,” Caleb said.
“As we did,” Peter corrected.
“You are right, of course. I am grateful you are doing this, finding a home for your families.”
“Even if those I care for are human, Caleb?” Peter asked as they walked through his suite. Men stood quietly waiting as the two passed. Caleb nodded, and one remained while the others followed the Korol and his Second to the elevator and down.
Caleb was quiet, the question left unanswered. As they walked to a caravan of the black and shiny SUVs, Caleb’s face grew pensive. When he opened the door to the third car to let Peter in, he said, “They are not all human.”
Peter sat, stretched out his legs and waited. From his expression, Caleb had more to say.
“And,” his Second began as he stepped inside shifting so he sat across from Peter rather than beside as they’d done in the past, “I’m too proud of how far you’ve come to let a little thing like the unworthy existence of a species take that away.”
“Caleb,” Peter groaned, “Well, any progress is desirable. Let’s go.” And with that, the motorcade of shiny black vehicles hummed toward the gallery.
* * * *
“Well, how was it?” Kaden asked as soon as Remi walked into the room. Day turned to night before he blinked. Why was it when a person needed more time, it ran out faster?
As he neared the desk, Remi bypassed what looked like a six-foot-eight woman wearing a garishly floral muumuu, but the fire engine red beard that fell to his chest was a real give away. If the full-faced beard that reminded him of one of the Duck Dynasty guys wasn’t a hint, then the burly rumble of his voice certainly was.
At Remi’s questioning brow, Kaden shook his head. “Man, don’t even ask. Must be a full moon or something because this is a scene straight out of the Twilight Zone.” Kaden looked Remi up and down, his smile blinding. “Haven’t seen you this happy in a while. Share.”
“Fuck, Kaden. That’s as horrible as Debbie saying dish,” Remi said.
“How is she anyway?” Kaden never met Remi’s family face-to-face, but he’d spoken to Debbie once or twice. Remi hadn’t heard from her since he’d mentioned Peter in his life. It hurt, but he had to trust the woman who loved him, who looked up to him ever since they were kids, would still love him no matter what.
Cas said to give her some time. It would have to be enough for now.
“Wouldn’t know. Well, I hope. Haven’t heard from her in a few days. Cas is out of town again, so she’s busy.” Kaden’s look was sympathetic.
“So, she knows now, huh?”
“Yep.”
When Remi said nothing, Kaden nodded. “She loves you, man.”
“Without question,” Remi said confidently. His sister loved him.
“She’ll come around.”
“Absolutely. She’s my girl, always has been.”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though.”
“It does.” Remi nodded and sat down, rifling through a few of the papers. In the background, he heard Mimi-Willie rumbling responses to another detective. He laughed when he, honest to God, heard the behemoth proposition a very stunned O’Neil who looked up from typing to gape at the man running his hand up his thigh and offering promises. The flush along the Irishman’s neck and the speed with which he removed said hand made them both snort.
“Again. Twilight zone,” Kaden said then turned to Remi. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense here. How was it?”
Remi sat back, rocked in his chair while he looked at Kaden.
“Nice. Really nice.”
“Okay. That’s a start.”
“He’s good for me, good to me.” Sunday night was wonderful, his arms full of a supple and writhing Peter. His hands free to wander over that smooth as ivory skin. His lips and tongue more than happy to taste again and again. They’d discussed Remi’s family, his sister, and his dad. And, Peter listened.
Then Peter told him he was an ass, though, which pissed Remi off to the point where he almost left the bed, but Peter’s skin was just too inviting. It hadn’t hurt that Peter had leaped over him, his grip ironclad on Remi’s wrist, his kisses slow and tender as he asked him to listen. Remi did, shivering with his touch.
For whatever reason Peter chose not to share, he’d lost his parents when he was young. He was an orphan, who missed his parents, who loved them, and wished he had the chance to see them every day. For Remi to let his father’s unhappiness with his career choice cause the distance the two were experiencing, to let that grow and poison their relationship, was a waste of time.
The two should be sharing whatever moments they still had Peter said, his eyes scanning him in the moonlight. Remi wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t argue with the sadness he saw there.
Peter described his uncle, shared how much he loved him and his surrogate family, the Tollivers, but he would give anything to just hug his mother and father again.
Remi grudgingly admitted that Peter was right. The kiss and the swat on his ass that followed his words warmed him, and he promised himself that this week he would make an effort to move on.
He still wasn’t ready for a holiday dinner around the table with Armand Devereaux giving him ugly looks when he answered questions concerning his job. He could call more, get them back on steady ground where they could talk about more than his cases and football. He wanted that. His father was tough, always had been, but he’d never failed to love him.
“Yeah?” Kaden questioned.
“Stayed all night,” Remi grinned. “but we had a surprise guest this morning.”
“Who?” Kaden peeked up over his meal.
“The uncle popped by to ask me my intentions or threaten to kill me.”
“Which one was it?”
“Hell, a little of both.” Remi filled Kaden in on the talk with Kristoff Dumanovsky leaving nothing out especially his opinion that the Russian was dangerous.
“Sounds intense for a first meet with the family,” Kaden observed.
“I’m guessing that Kristoff doesn’t do any other level.” Remi couldn’t shake the way those cold blue eyes sized him up. “He’d actually asked if he would need to remove me.”
“Sound to you like what it sounds like to me?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“What did Peter say?”
“I get the feeling they weren’t talking while I was there. Non-verbals all over the place.”
“Bet you were glad to get my call.” They’d used the time to visit the shopkeeper, canvas the area where Mark Dannon was pursued. When dinner time rolled around, Remi and Kaden split deciding to meet back later.
“Actually, I was.”
“So, that’s it then. Gonna let the uncle run you off?”
“No, he’ll just have to get used to me hanging around.”
“It’s like that,” Kaden grinned, nodding appreciatively.
“Cher, it’s like that and then some.” Remi was quiet. He wasn’t going anywhere Peter Romanoff wasn’t. At least for right now.
It had been quiet since the last murder, like a held breath, the moment before terror struck.
Anticipating the next move, trying to head off the brutal death of someone else was damn near impossible without more information. Solving cases weren’t like what shows like NCIS or CSI displayed for night time drama. Crimes weren’t solved in forty-five minutes or less, or the length of a TV mini-series. They needed more than translated messages or videos. They needed the men themselves, and as fast as those fuckers moved on film, it was going to be hard as dried horse shit to get them.
“Remi.” Spin and whir, Kaden played with his yo-yo as they brainstormed. “The one thing both cases have as a c
ommon factor is—”
“That they both knew Peter,” Remi said. “Not new information. Other than the sheer brutality of both murders, he’s their link.”
“I’m thinking it might be time to put a uniform on him, some eyes. Someone not too conspicuous maybe, but at least we might have an idea of who might be gunning for him.”
“If someone is.”
“If.”
But, they were both aware of the likelihood of Peter being next on the list.
Watching as the yo-yo did a slow climb up the string, Remi said with as little inflection as he could, “Seems to me, it would ring too many bells to throw an unknown element in the midst right now. It should be someone who’s been around a bit.”
“I was thinking you might feel that way.” Kaden’s answering smile was fast.
“Caleb might have something to say about that.”
“He might, but would you honestly be worried?”
“Nope.” Remi stretched his arms out, remembering teeth that nipped and teased. “Nope. Not at all.” Moving forward, he braced both arms on his knees. “Still, I wonder what it is Caleb does.”
“Well, government taxes say he’s a businessman.”
“Yes, but we both know that’s not the only title he’s wearing. I don’t know that I like not being able to learn more about him.” And, the blanks coming up about the men surrounding Peter were starting to bug him.
Sure, he was glad that as far as he saw, Peter would be safe. But, on the other hand, he wondered what it was that required trained bodyguards because make no mistake, they were trained. “That’s one thing. The other is Peter’s need for security. Saw more of them on their way in as I left, too.”
The sleek luxury vehicles, some sedans, some big as hell SUVs were well positioned, uniform in their placement.
“What would make a man invisible to the point where Google or the police database found nothing on him but still make him travel in stealth mode?” Remi questioned.
“Well, his alibis have checked out from the camera guy he’s helping all the way to the gallery. His time has been devoted to his charity. Other than a probable target for those men, he’s had nothing to do with the murders. If anything, it seems like they’re trying to get his attention. Don’t know how they expected him to see the bloody messages they left behind, though.”
“Word of mouth,” Remi said.
“Could be. Hard to keep something like this out of the media.”
“Right.” Spin. Whir. “Bloodshed, especially as violent as this usually draws the sharks.”
They were both quiet before Kaden said, “You want to know more about him?”
“Man, Kaden. I want to know his soul.”
“Well, that’s reason enough. What’s it hurt to ask?”
“Nothing, yet.”
“It’s that serious?”
“Kaden, it’s way beyond.”
Kaden stopped the yo-yo mid-whir and sat to face Remi.
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not much to say. He breathes, I want to be there to hear it. I want to be the first name that crosses his tongue when he needs someone.”
“That’s taking it further than you expected, isn’t it?”
“Kaden, the way I’m feeling, he had me wrapped around his finger from day one. He’s who I need.”
“So, is this love? Is that what we’re calling this?”
“If it’s not, Kaden, it’s damned close.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Beautiful people or people made beautiful with all that money could afford. It was no matter to Peter. What was more important was that beauty and money seldom parted. From the number present in the room and others waiting to get in, he’d be able to build that extra wing with money to spare.
The glow created by the lights hanging on spaghetti strings in choice places was perfect, a compliment to the blown-up photos of mothers and their children, of wounded fathers hugging little ones. The pictures of the pixie in the family made it all come together as she held her youngest while she nursed at her breast.
There were a few people hovering there, nodding, each eager to give his opinion on nature’s most significant art form. The piggy banks were everywhere, and Peter smiled as he saw hands pushing checks and cash into several of them.
Wonder by Emeli Sande played over speakers, the volume only loud enough to give the room a hint of its joy. It would help those here tonight see that these families were overcoming, not failing. Celebratory in their ability to press forward beyond what was taken from them.
They planned to follow this with Sam Smith, Dianne Reeves, some Awolnation, and one or two Metallica songs. It would be enough to give the appeal, to play the heartstrings. While this wasn’t a game, strategy was very much a necessity.
The more they felt, the more tremendous the sums they gave. So, the lights, the pictures, the music would all help to ease the grip on the wallet. Besides, it wasn’t like Peter’s purpose for this evening was unknown. He worked, but it would never be enough. It would never bring his parents back, never repay all his uncle and the Alpha had done for him. But, it would bring solace to others, help to give them a home. That’s all he asked. Well, that and a new wing.
He and Caleb walked in together. They made quite the entrance. His appearance would be one that many of them would forget in only moments after seeing him, only able to recall the outlines of a face, a blur of clothing. He turned to Caleb before he prepared to mingle.
“I’ll be close,” Caleb said.
“I would expect nothing less.”
After giving him a searching look, Caleb stepped away to see to his wolves.
It wasn’t long before one of the beautiful people, a tall brunette whose eyes shone with purpose strode over to Peter. The sparkles shining in her eyes as they captured the ambient lighting threatened to use one of its rays to put Peter’s eyes out. Much longer, and he’d be searching for a pair of sunglasses to shield himself from the burn.
“Peter.”
“Marina.”
“It’s so nice to see you.”
“Of course. Likewise.” Poor woman. She was yet another conquest of Caleb’s who refused to let go. Caleb had her once, and apparently once was enough to keep her begging for more.
Unfortunately for her, once Caleb had given her the level of orgasms women or men could only dream of, he’d left. He was done, never to return. Such a pity because Peter liked her. She wasn’t a terrible person, just a clever one who knew what she wanted. Caleb.
They both watched as Caleb passed by entertaining a group of the young and wealthy. The over-bright eyes of his fascinated audience were a sure sign they were caught in his web, eager to do whatever he said. His wink Peter’s way was comical in its boldness.
“So deliciously fuckable,” Marina whispered aloud. “Oh, did I say that?”
“But, of course. And, well, you should know.”
“Peter, what should I do?” He’d heard this question from her before. He’d tried to warn Marina, told her Caleb would never see her again, but she was determined to prove she could snare him—like he was the elusive George Clooney and she was Amal. Never gonna happen.
He sighed then turned to look at her fully. She wore the Lela Rose dress well, the black lacing down the sides presenting her gifts and uh... assets, to her best advantage. Her big brown eyes were captivating as they searched his own, pleading for him to present the golden ticket to Caleb Waneek’s heart.
Placing his hands on her arms, he drew her in close. The scent she wore was delightful. If he chose someone for Caleb on aesthetics alone, this vivacious beauty would be in the running.
“Stop chasing him. Let him come to you. Men like a challenge. And forgive me, but you wag that ass of yours in front of him more than enough to let him know he can get the whole cow for free. Didn’t your mother warn you about that?”
“Peter, my mother taught me how to u
se what I have to get what I want. It’s the lesson I remembered.”
“Really? How’s that working for you?” The flame burning in those eyes was brilliant. Now, there was his delectable, angry enchantress.
“Make him chase me?” Marina asked.
“Yes. Tease him, ignore him. Caleb is used to people making fools of themselves around him. Give him the challenge he needs.”
She looked at him and over to Caleb, the want in her eyes tangible as she traced his path.
“Okay, I’ll do it.”
“Lovely. Now, go away. I have people to meet.” Marina’s kiss was warm on his cheek as she walked away to speak to a group of people more than eager to gather her into their fold.
Glancing up, he saw Caleb peering at him, a question in the quirk of his brow. He shrugged and turned away. Maybe Marina would get what she wanted. Maybe she wouldn’t. Couldn’t hurt to try. Caleb needed someone. But, she, or he, would have to be ready for everything that came with Caleb Waneek, fur and all.
Chapter Twenty-two
Peter made the rounds, talked to senator this and lawyer that, professor this and doctor that. He explained why the picture of a butterfly trapped in a net symbolized the frozen state of transformation. He pointed out that the potential for relief was bound by the availability of resources.
He’d answered several questions about the lovely woman who graced many of the walls. She was delicate but possessed a backbone of steel. Her smiles, open and free, snared the eye. He was so grateful Shelly agreed to let him take those pictures. They were going to capture the donors in droves. Especially the ones who were fascinated with Shelly’s image and the love that was shown for the bundles of warmth she held in her hands, who suckled at her breast, whom she tossed into the air frozen in time.
It was an excellent turnout. There were teachers, coaches, and the social awareness group he’d invited. He was still trying to coax these groups into joining him as he sought to reach out to homeless gay youth. He couldn’t save the world alone. He’d need help. The research he’d done on Project X would help snare him just the right people—people that the lost boys and girls would be willing to place their trust in.
