by Lynn Hagen
The agent locked eyes with him, a small smile tilting his lips as he headed Rave’s way. A soft, playful smile was on his kissable lips as Monroe sat on the other side of Rave. His chestnut-brown eyes sparkled as Monroe laid an arm on the bar. “I was going to call you this morning, Rave.”
Why didn’t he believe that? Maybe because he could smell the lie.
But not only that, Monroe shifted his eyes slightly, telling Rave that he was indeed holding back the truth. “Really?”
“I’ll go find a booth,” Logan said as he began to push from the bar. He could see the tension in Logan’s jaw and the scorn in his eyes.
Jealousy. It wasn’t strong, but it was there.
“Have a seat, Logan,” Rave said. Logan hesitated and then sat back down, his eyes skipping over to Monroe as if he were trying to size the other man up. Rave wanted to groan. Logan looked back at him, and a thoughtful look crossed his face. His features relaxed, as he grabbed a handful of pretzels, acting as if he were ignoring Rave.
“Your boyfriend?” Monroe asked as he glanced over at Logan.
“Not a bad choice, cute.”
“I’m not cute,” Logan grumbled.
“You said it, not me,” Monroe stated.
“Who the hell are you?” Logan asked.
“Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.” Monroe smiled tightly at Logan.
“Prick.”
“Call me that after I’ve slept with you. It’ll be more fitting.”
“Enough,” Rave growled. He was getting a damn headache, and oddly enough, turned on. Why was the aggression between Logan and Monroe making his wolf horny? Rave shook his head. “Stop taking shots at each other.”
Was it him or could he smell the lust rolling off of Monroe and crashing into…Logan?
“What’s your name?” Monroe asked around Rave.
“Why?” Logan asked suspiciously.
“Just curious.”
“Logan.”
Rave watched as the lust and humor slid from Monroe’s eyes.
They were made of forged steel now, giving a no-nonsense look that was a bit intimidating to even Rave.
“Logan Albinster?”
Logan’s head snapped back, his eyes wide with surprise. Rave watched in slow horror as Monroe pushed from the bar and pulled his gun, aiming it right at Logan’s chest. “Put your hands behind your head, and if you try to use your mind on me, I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
Rave saw from the corner of his eyes as the man who had come into the bar with Monroe pulled his gun as well, aiming it at Rave.
What the fuck had he done? “What are you doing, Monroe?” Rave asked as he slid closer to Logan, blocking the agent from shooting his damn mate, Monroe’s mate, even if the man didn’t know it yet.
Monroe hesitated and then snarled. “Move away from him, Rave, or I swear I’ll put a bullet in you just for pissing me off.”
Rave could see his friend Taz behind the bar, talking quietly into his cell phone. He sure as hell hoped Taz was calling for help, because there was no way Rave was going to hurt Monroe, even though his mate had promised to open his damn chest up.
“Lower your gun, Monroe,” Rave warned as he turned fully toward the agent, his canines unsheathing. “Now.”
Monroe didn’t even blink at Rave’s partial shift. His eyes were looking past Rave, but Rave had a feeling Monroe was watching him as well. “I don’t think so.”
Rave spotted Jesse walking into the tavern, a few deputies behind him. He glanced from Monroe to the lumbering man with a gun pointed at Rave. “What in the hell is going on in here?”
“It’s an FBI matter, Jesse.”
“What the hell did Rave do?” Jesse asked as he stepped closer, slowly, cautiously.
“It’s not Rave. He’s in my fucking way, though. Logan Albinster has a warrant for his arrest.”
“Let me see it,” Jesse said, his gun still holstered. Thank goodness for small favors. Rave would have been pretty pissed if Jesse had pointed his gun at Monroe. Rave may not understand what was going on, but he knew somewhere deep down that Monroe wouldn’t hurt him. He prayed like hell that that was true.
“This doesn’t concern you, Jesse,” Monroe said between clenched teeth.
“The hell it doesn’t if you’re about to shoot one of my citizens.”
“Get out of my way, Rave!” Monroe barked.
“No,” Rave replied steadily, his eyes locked tight with Monroe’s.
“I won’t let you shoot our mate.”
“Our what?” Monroe asked, his gun wavering slightly. There was indecision in his eyes, confusion, as if Rave had spoken another language and he was trying to translate it on the spot.
“Your what?” Logan chirped from behind him.
“Our. Mate,” Rave said clearly enough for Monroe to hear.
Rave saw Jesse clearing out the tavern, making everyone leave.
Not all the customers were shifters. Some were humans, clueless to the paranormal world around them. The only one left who was clueless now was the man that had come into the bar with Monroe.
“Who is the man pointing a gun at me?” Rave asked.
“My partner,” Monroe replied, his gun still point-blank to Rave’s chest. “He’s a very accurate shot. I’d move away from Logan if I were you.”
“If you don’t want him to know about us, then make him leave,” Rave warned.
“He’s not going anywhere,” Monroe replied.
“Fine.” Rave moved with preternatural speed, disarming Monroe and pushing Logan away from him at the same time Monroe’s partner shot his gun. The bang echoed in the tavern as the bullet whizzed by Rave’s head, just missing splattering his brains all over the bar. Rave tossed Monroe’s gun to Jesse and then shifted, growling menacingly at Monroe’s partner.
“What in the hell?” the man said as he swallowed loud enough for everyone to hear. “What just happened?”
“Back off, Dorm,” Monroe warned his partner.
Rave could see that Dorm’s gun was still pointed at him in a teacup hold. The man meant business, even if he looked confused and scared as hell.
“Lower your gun,” Jesse said as if he was talking a man down from the ledge. His voice was patient, smooth.
“Not likely,” Dorm said as he gripped the gun harder.
“Lower your weapon, Agent Dorm.”
Rave was surprised to hear Monroe giving the order. He would have bet that Monroe would have told Dorm to shoot his hairy ass.
“You know about this, Tony?” Dorm asked.
About fucking time Rave learned his mate’s first name. He liked it. Logan and Tony. Nice. Now if he could manage not to get shot, maybe he could talk to his mates without a gun pointed at his damn head.
“I knew.”
“And you didn’t warn me?” Dorm actually looked hurt. If he didn’t have a gun aimed at Rave, he might have actually felt sorry for the man.
“It’s not something a person runs around advertising, Dorm.”
“But I’m your damn partner.”
“True,” Tony said as he took a step toward Rave, running his hands over Rave’s furry head. Damn if Rave didn’t want to roll around on the floor and have Tony rub his belly.
Dorm’s gun began to slowly descend, ending at his side. “What is going on, Tony?”
Chapter Six
Tony sat there looking from Rave to Logan and then back at Rave again. “Could you repeat that? I’m not sure I caught what you said.”
Rave sighed. The tavern was clear of people. Only the three of them sat there at the bar. Dorm had protested leaving, but Jesse had assured him that Tony was safe. He still wouldn’t leave until Tony had told him it was all right.
“Mates,” Rave said as he waved his hand between them. “We’re mates.”
“I’m not sleeping with you guys.” Logan scowled at Rave and then Tony. “I don’t even know you, Rave, and that prick over there just tried to shoot me.”
“I t
old you not to call me a prick until after I’ve fucked you,” Tony said, enjoying the blush of embarrassment on Logan’s face. It was cute.
“Not happening,” Logan snapped.
“Fine, no sex,” Rave said, “but I need to know why in the hell you pointed a gun at Logan.”
Tony knew he shouldn’t tell civilians about the case, but nothing was making real sense to him any longer. If Rave and Logan were truly his mates as Rave claimed, then a lot of things were about to change in his life. Tony wasn’t even sure how he was going to do his job any longer. How would he travel and have two men at home?
This was too much for him to think about right now, so he just pushed the mess aside like a utility broom after a party.
“Have you heard of Aba?” he inquired.
“Yeah, he tried to kidnap me,” Logan said. His eyes held surprise. “Why?”
“Is that why your door was busted?” Tony asked.
“You’ve been to my house?” Logan didn’t sound too happy about that, so Tony ignored his indignation.
“Aba has been on FBI radar for some time. He’s killed at least a dozen people, robbed three banks, and is wanted for blackmail.”
Rave whistled low. “Damn.”
“The problem is, we don’t have any proof that he killed those people. They all look like suicide cases. We have the tape from the banks, showing the teller smiling as she handed over the money to Aba, no note, no gun in sight. She doesn’t even remember doing it.
And the tellers from the other two banks are saying the same thing.”
“Who did he blackmail?” Logan asked, leaning closer to the bar so he could see Tony more clearly. His eyes were wide, listening intently as if Tony was telling a ghost story.
“The director of the FBI. Director Simone isn’t too happy about having his mind screwed with. Aba made Simone believe that he had slept with a few prostitutes, the chief of police, and the mayor. Aba was blackmailing him for ten thousand dollars.”
“That’s a pretty low amount for the director of the FBI,” Rave commented.
The man was sharp. “That’s the part we’re still trying to figure out.”
“And what do I have to do with all of this?” Logan asked.
“Aba came to my motel around three this morning.”
Rave’s jaw clenched as he stared at the bruise mark on Tony’s neck. He could see the animal behind Rave’s eyes, as if it wanted to come out and have vengeance for Tony being hurt. The brown in Rave’s eyes slid around, as if someone were behind them, looking directly at Tony. It was a bit creepy in his opinion. “He told me to forget about the case and go home. He choked me to show that he could do it. The man was pretty persuasive, but I don’t scare off that easily.” Tony was still omitting the part about almost shooting himself. No way, no how was he telling anyone about that.
“No offense, Tony, but why didn’t he just kill you? Why did he just warn you?” Rave asked. “If he has killed so many people, what’s another body to him?”
“Good question.” And one Tony hadn’t thought about. Why hadn’t Aba just killed him? The man had the power to make Tony do whatever he wanted.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Logan reminded Tony.
“You are on the FBI wanted list as well,” Tony stated flatly. He wasn’t so sure he could just haul Logan in now. Ever since Rave had said they were mates, Tony could feel something deep stirring inside of him. Power of suggestion? Maybe. But Tony knew it was more.
His parents refused to teach him about shifters since he couldn’t shift or even sense things like shifters could. Hell, he had average hearing and smell, like a human. They had called him a freak and pretty much treated him as if he had been a leper.
But he felt that deep stirring down in his gut, for both men. He had felt it the first time he had left Rave, but Tony had chalked it up to lust. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Logan looked stunned. He even gasped. It was dramatic and Tony wanted to reach out and comfort the man, but he kept his distance.
“But I haven’t done anything wrong,” Logan damn near whispered, his voice small, as if he were a child begging for someone to believe he hadn’t stolen the cookie from the cookie jar.
“Yes, you did,” Rave said softly. “You were born a styre mente. That’s all they care about.”
“We care about catching a man who has killed innocent people, who has robbed banks using his mind controlling technique, and who felt he was above the law for anyone to stop him. That’s what we care about,” Tony said. “I was told there was another like Aba. Of course I wanted to catch him as well. I just didn’t know it was Logan.”
“It’s not a technique,” Logan corrected him. “It’s who I am, not some magician’s parlor tricks.”
Tony once again brushed aside Logan’s snap reply. “Have you seen flying men around here?” he asked. It was an abrupt change of subject, but Tony was tired of not having answers. He felt as though he was getting nowhere fast.
“You saw one?” Rave asked, but didn’t look surprised. So the man knew about them. Maybe he would finally catch a damn clue to what was going on in Pride Pack Valley. This place seemed to hold more secrets than Area 51.
“They’re called winged beasts from what I’m told, but no one can see their wings.”
Hence Tony seeing a flying man. He hadn’t seen wings, but the man had flown straight up into the sky as if he had a large span of them. “He was leaning over a dead body, a dead body that got up and ran from me.”
“That would be a hound of hell.”
Tony waited.
“Some dark being that looks human, but is more dangerous than one hundred nuclear bombs going off inside of you. They’re lethal and so is their bite. Do not let anyone around here bite you.” The warning was clear in not only Rave’s tone, but his eyes were hard, glittering stones. Rave turned toward Logan who threw up his hands, shaking his head.
“I don’t want anyone biting me.”
“Good.”
Tony was taken by surprise when Rave leaned closer, his lips brushing close to Tony’s mouth. “And just so you know, I’m going to mate you, Agent Monroe. I’m going to make you mine.”
For the first time in years, Tony swallowed nervously. He saw Rave’s eyes shift and his canines extend a little longer than what they already were. They looked sharp and threatening in the dense lighting of the bar, but Tony knew they would only bring him plenty of pleasure if Rave bit him. “I thought you said no biting?” His voice didn’t hold the usual confidence Tony carried with him. It was low, filled with desire and hesitation that blended together.
“I’m not a hound from hell,” he said before pulling back.
“If you two are about to have sex, I can wait outside,” Logan complained. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Tony could hear the small snap of jealousy in Logan’s voice. “I thought you weren’t going to have sex with us?”
“I’m not.”
“Liar, I can see lust written all over your darling face, honey.”
Tony grinned and then laughed. “I’ll have you in my bed yet, my little pretty.”
“What are you, the Wicked Witch of the West?” Logan asked sarcastically.
“Yeah, and I’m Toto.” Rave chuckled.
“I sure as shit ain’t Dorothy,” Logan complained, only making Rave and Tony laugh harder.
“Come on,” Rave said as he slid from the stool. “We need to let Taz have his tavern back.”
“Do you know anything about Aba?” Tony asked as he turned from Rave to Logan.
“Only that he tried to kill me, possibly, yesterday. I left the hospital, and he attacked the car I was in. Later he came to my house and tried to force me to go with him, stating that he was only trying to protect me.” Logan shivered. “If that’s protection, no thanks.”
“He’s strong,” Rave added as he stared at Tony’s bruise, the anger flickering in his eyes. “Mentally at least.”
Tony absently r
ubbed his neck, agreeing with Rave. Aba’s mind powers had been strong. Strong enough to make Tony try and shoot himself. He wanted that bastard dead yesterday.
They stepped outside into the bright, sunny morning, the warmth spilling over Tony as he glanced around. The streets looked deserted, like a ghost town, not even a car was in sight. “Where in the hell is everyone?”
* * * *
Dorm stood in the hallway, swallowing a few times as he stared at the carnage. He was not going to be sick. There was no way he was throwing up on the white carpet. He had seen dead bodies before, but nothing like this. It looked as if the husband had cut the wife apart with a kitchen knife. He knew they were married. He could still see the shiny ring on her finger, the stones glistening clean, untouched by the horrific scene.
The call had come in, neighbors hearing screams coming from this house. Dorm hadn’t wanted to leave the tavern, to leave Tony, but Jesse had invited him to ride along. Dorm wasn’t one to stand around twiddling his thumbs, so he had accepted the invitation.
Dorm stared at the wife. Her arm lay a few feet away from her body, her leg cut so raggedly that it looked like the guy had tried to saw it off. The limb was hanging on by a thin layer of skin. He swallowed a few more times, tasting the bile in the back of his throat.
He was not going to throw up.
The husband lay in a pool of his own cooling blood, the knife sticking out of his neck. He had bled to death. No person in his right mind would kill himself that way. It looked painful as hell.
“I knew this couple,” Jesse said as he leaned an arm against the wall, looking just as green as Dorm felt. “They were high school sweethearts. Rick would have never killed Sarah.”
That left only one explanation.
“Aba is taunting us, telling us with these bodies that we can’t catch him, stop him,” Jesse said through gritted teeth. He kept looking at the husband, as if by sheer will the man could make his friend stand up and be alive again.
“We have to catch him. I have a feeling the body count is going to rise if we don’t.” The smell of death was thick in the air as Dorm found himself swallowing again. He needed fresh air. “I have to call this in.”
