by Jools Louise
“What’s that you’re doing?” he asked Drew, watching the younger man tapping on a tablet computer, looking intense.
Drew jerked a little, obviously startled, and Callahan thought he was too cute, his big golden eyes meeting Callahan’s, trying to focus. “Er, I’m just, er…” Drew stammered, his flush deepening when Callahan smiled.
“It’s okay, love, I was just curious, that’s all. I’m sorry I interrupted you,” Callahan said gently.
“Oh, no! It’s not that,” Drew protested. “I get a little…involved sometimes. And lose track of time.”
Callahan hoped Drew was able to transfer that single-mindedness to other pursuits. In the bedroom. “No word yet on Vince?”
Drew shook his head. “It could take a while,” he said, shrugging. “Although he didn’t seem like the usual Flashpoint type.”
Callahan frowned thoughtfully. “No, he didn’t. The guy was fast and fearless. He walked in here like he owned it and was skillful enough to avoid Sherman’s attack.”
“But didn’t see you coming,” Drew said with some pride, smiling.
“Most people don’t,” Callahan drawled, winking salaciously.
“I think I might be attracted to you,” Drew blurted suddenly, then groaned and dropped his head. “Shit! I can’t believe I said that aloud.”
Callahan grinned. “Don’t worry about it. The feeling’s entirely mutual.”
“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Drew confessed. “I thought I must be straight. But I haven’t been attracted to anyone in town. Until now.”
Callahan shot him a rueful look. “So I haven’t exactly pushed your buttons?”
Drew flushed, looking even more embarrassed at his faux pas. “I don’t notice a lot of things,” he replied, shrugging as he looked down at the table. “I get distracted easily. It’s nothing personal.”
John wandered over, eyeing them with some amusement. Drew shot him a warning look. Callahan expected John to razz them both, but for once the big Brit ignored the opportunity for a wind-up.
“Ryder thinks it might be worthwhile if you spoke to our mercenary friend,” John said, smirking. “Apparently, Mr. Smith won’t speak to anyone but you. The bastard has no idea how close he is to losing his ability to speak at all,” John drawled, his green eyes calm, yet something in their depths had Drew and Callahan looking at him warily. This was John at his most deadly. Since his sister had been murdered, John had been different. His inner predator was much closer to the surface. And John was lethal even on a good day.
“You don’t have to go,” Callahan cut in, frowning. “That guy’s already attacked you twice. No way is he going to get another shot at you.”
“I’d like to know what his deal is,” Drew admitted, seeming to like the concern on Callahan’s face. “You can go with me if you like.”
“Sherman’s there, as well, if you need extra back up,” John told him. “Ryder and Sheriff Pace, too.”
* * * *
Drew swallowed hard as he thought about how close he’d come to having his brain deep-fried. It had him remembering all those other times when he’d been helpless against his father, tied down and unable to defend himself when Daniel had an issue with something.
He wasn’t eager to meet Vince Smith again, but if the man had information they needed, then he should see what was what. Besides, it wasn’t as though he didn’t put himself in danger anyway. His recent trip to Russia to gather valuable intel about Stronghold, an affiliate of Flashpoint, could have ended badly if they’d been discovered. Plus that jaunt off to Scotland to rescue Albert and Arthur. Yeah, he had a nose for trouble all right. He just hated being helpless. And Vince’s grip had been airtight.
“Fine,” Drew said, then sniffed haughtily. “He can wait until I’ve had my coffee, though. Fucker thinks he can order me around, he can think again.” He looked hopefully at John, then his empty cup.
Callahan and John both chuckled. “Large latte coming right up,” John replied, winking. “And some muffins, too?”
Drew nodded, grinning. “Yeah, go for it,” he said. “No sense in rushing these things, is there?”
“Keep the bastard on ice a while longer,” John agreed, gesturing for Bryce to get the order ready.
“You really don’t need to go,” Callahan said again, reaching for Drew’s hand and squeezing lightly. “Let the others interrogate him. It’s what they’re good at.”
“I know,” Drew said softly, his skin tingling under Callahan’s touch. “But I’m a trainee Warrior. Besides, I feel like giving the bastard some grief for attacking me.”
Callahan cupped his cheek, leaning in closer, his scent enticing nostrils again. “I’ll be there,” he said, smiling gently.
Drew leaned into Callahan’s touch, rubbing his jaw against his friend’s palm like a cat, almost purring with pleasure. “How come I didn’t notice you before now?” he asked plaintively.
Callahan chuckled softly, stroking a thumb over the man’s lips. “Are you noticing me now?”
Drew groaned, his tongue darting out to taste Callahan’s fingers. “Oh yeah,” he retorted. “My senses are working overtime.”
Callahan moved in close and planted a soft kiss against Drew’s lips. They both groaned, and Drew did purr as the kiss deepened and he got his first proper taste of the decadence that was Callahan’s mouth.
“Don’t make me douse you with ice water,” Bryce warned as he brought their order over, sounding amused. “This is getting X-rated, and we’re strictly a G-rated café.”
Drew eased back, struggling to focus. “Perhaps you should douse us,” he said, clearing his throat noisily. “I really don’t want to visit Vince Smith with my dick at this angle.”
“Don’t worry,” Callahan whispered, chuckling. “Maizie just walked in like she means business. I think she’ll be escorting us. That’s a cock-blocker if ever there was one.”
“Fuck it!” Drew’s dick drooped instantly.
Chapter Three
Maizie watched her young charge carefully as he entered the interrogation room, prepared to cause a ruckus if the big merc tried anything. She’d wrap her trunk so tightly around his neck, his brains would pop out of the top of his thick skull. She’d taken a shine to Drew, his genius notwithstanding. The kid was strong, loyal, and in over his head. She knew what was at stake, had studied the risks intently, and this war on shifters was fluctuating to a whole new level of dangerously unstable.
Drew was young, only twenty-two, and still so naïve. After Jayne’s death at the elementary school, everyone was on alert. Flashpoint had stepped up their games and had some nasty new friends. No one was safe. After trekking for months from the circus in Siberia, over mountains and rivers and deserts to get here, she would defend this town to her last breath. She frowned. That wasn’t right. She would defend the people of the town.
Sage represented a symbol of their victory over persecution. This was a free space, a place for hope and refuge. She’d seen what had happened to Drew and his family. Kathleen was still getting over it. Maybe she would always have nightmares. Daniel needed to pay for what he’d done, and yet he was allowed to languish, helped by his nefarious friends. He continued to be a menace, planning yet more attacks against his family and those who’d helped rescue them.
“Ready to listen now?” the mercenary asked, chained to a sturdy steel chair, one arm locked to the table, his legs secured inside thick restraints. His broken wrist was covered in a cast. He could have been discussing the weather for all the interest he paid to Sherman and Cracker standing guard inside the room.
“You interrupted my coffee,” Drew responded casually, raking Vince with an insulting glance. Maizie smiled and heard Callahan and Ryder laugh at the sally. Drew had courage, she’d give him that. He’d been terrified after the attack, and she’d seen his nerves since then, since he kept looking over his shoulder all the time. As he stared at Vince across the table, however, she was proud that he was determined not to sh
ow fear.
Vince smirked back, looking relaxed, without a care in the world. Maizie shook her head. Certifiable, for sure. Sherman looked ready to crush the man’s head between his bare hands. And she’d help. Vince was behaving as though he wasn’t chained to a chair, seconds from being pummeled into the floor.
“Your father isn’t amused that you’ve stolen his money,” Vince said calmly, studying Drew inquisitively. Maizie frowned, spying something else in that cool stare. She wasn’t sure she liked what she was seeing. It showed Vince considered Drew far more than just a target.
“Not his money,” Drew shot back harshly. “My mother earned everything. It’s hers.”
Vince shrugged. “I’ve been hired to retrieve it. Not my problem where it came from.” Maizie snorted. That was a crock of bat poop. Vince had his head firmly buried in the guano, in her opinion, preferring to ask no questions in case he got answers he didn’t like. Prick!
The two combatants stared at one another. “Why are you working for Daniel?” Drew asked. “You don’t care that he’s attacked and nearly murdered his own sons? My youngest brother was only three years old, but Daniel strapped him to a cot, a spiked collar around his neck, and deprived him of food for weeks and pumped him full of sedatives and god knows what else. If it wasn’t for the courage of friends of ours, we would all be dead. How can you possibly work for him?” Drew’s voice broke on the last sentence. Vince arched a brow as though unconcerned by Drew’s distress.
Maizie exchanged glances with Ryder, who was watching the show. “Want me to go in?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow. “I don’t mind smacking that big fucker around the room for a bit.”
Ryder rolled his eyes. “Why don’t we watch and wait?” he replied dryly. “No sense wrecking the place just yet.” Then he scowled. “But if he keeps up this attitude, I may just smack him around myself. Fucker’s getting on my last nerve.”
Vince’s gaze was carefully blank, but Maizie spied a telltale twitch beside his left eye, evidence that he wasn’t quite so calm as he was making out.
“I didn’t know about all that before I took the job,” Vince replied after a long pause. He sounded almost regretful, his voice softer. “My brief didn’t give too much detail, only to retrieve stolen funds.”
“Daniel lied. The money isn’t his. He’s the thief. And do you know what he’d use it for if he got his filthy hands on it? To kill. He’s a shifter who’s turned traitor on his own people. For money.” Drew bared his fangs, leaning closer. “I guess you’re the same as he is. Neither of you cares as long as you get rich.”
Vince frowned. “I’m not getting rich. I go after people who break the law. Shifters who break the law. Stealing is a crime.”
“Why does Daniel want the money?” Drew leaned back again, his face carefully blank now.
“How should I know?” Vince asked impatiently.
“You took a job but didn’t bother to ask any questions about it? That’s stupid, isn’t it?” Drew said mockingly. “How do you know you’re not committing a crime? Oh, that’s right. You don’t care enough to find out.”
Vince let loose a low growl…and bared his own impressive set of feline fangs. Maizie chuckled softly. So the bastard was a shifter. And some kind of bounty hunter, by all accounts. Skirting the edges of the law, though, given his clientele.
“Don’t push me,” Vince warned.
“Or you’ll what?” Drew taunted. “Cry? Big bad pussycat. You couldn’t fight your way out of a wet tissue.”
Vince’s chest strained, and a moment later his arm restraint snapped and he surged to his feet, only to be slapped down in the chair again by Cracker and Sherman with enough force to make even Maizie wince.
“You’re a shifter,” Sherman said dangerously, his big hand at Vince’s throat. “You should be working with us, not attacking us.”
Vince glared up at the big lion shifter. “I have bills to pay,” he sneered. “Coming from an ex-biker who ripped up this country and beat up shifters for fun in his heyday, you’ve got no cause to take the high road.”
“Why do you work for Daniel?” Drew repeated. “He has no money, so I don’t see how he can afford to pay you.”
Sherman released the man, stepping back while Vince caught his breath, his face an odd shade of puce. “I didn’t see where the money came from,” Vince declared. “Only that I was paid. Half at the start, the rest on delivery.”
He looked weary somehow, his golden eyes shadowed.
Cullen walked into the interrogation room, patting Drew on the shoulder and looking at Vince sympathetically.
“What the hell?” Ryder said, sounding exasperated.
“They’re best friends,” Maizie reminded him. “And it looks as though Cullen has something to add to this.”
“He’d better,” Ryder growled. “The little squirt has been working under the radar – again!”
“Oh hush, pipsqueak,” Maizie chided him. “Quit behaving like that stick up your ass just grew fangs.” He shot her a confused look. “You’re uptight, and look like you’re trying to shit a brick,” she added succinctly.
He snorted but seemed amused. “Still don’t get the analogy.”
“She’s not wrong,” Callahan interjected, receiving a fierce glare from Ryder. “Listen, you’re missing the best bits.”
“Hi, Drew,” Cullen said cheerfully, standing just behind the younger man, his hazel eyes shrewd as they studied their prisoner. “I did some digging,” he continued, meeting Vince’s cool, pale gold stare. “And guess what? Vince here used to be an upstanding citizen. A cop. Just like Sheriff Pace.” He sounded as though he was reading them a bedtime story. Maizie grinned at his technique. Cullen was a pistol. Mated to two huge bear shifters who were simply adorable, Cullen was a force to be reckoned with.
“Upstanding? Hard to believe,” Drew commented dryly, folding his arms across his chest.
“I know, right?” Cullen chuckled. “I mean, who would have thought that a guy like this, who oozes bad vibes and attitude could possibly have a stellar history. But it’s true.” He placed a file on the table, opening it to reveal a family portrait. Vince Smith standing beside a slightly shorter man with dark hair and brown eyes, holding two babies in their arms. They wore tuxedos, even the infants, and were grinning lovingly at one another, a wedding band on their ring fingers.
Vince looked tense, staring at the picture intensely, his expression devoid of emotion now, resembling the blank wall behind him. He made no comment to Cullen’s story, simply sat there stoically.
“This here is Vince’s husband. Ashley. So happy. But then one day when Vince was out keeping the streets safe, his home was invaded. By two shifters. They were unhappy that he’d put their uncle in jail. And guess what? They decided to get payback.”
“That’s enough,” Vince gritted out.
Maizie watched a vein trembling in Vince’s temple, his jaw clenched tightly, his entire body taut as a spring.
“How did they get payback?” Drew asked softly.
“They beat my family to death,” Vince replied, his face ashen.
Drew gasped aloud, and Maizie saw the same empathy on Callahan’s face. Ryder looked shocked, too, an unusual sight.
“Poor guy,” Maizie said with some sympathy. “Enough to drive a man to revenge.”
Ryder grunted but didn’t respond.
“Who?” Drew asked, staring at Vince sympathetically.
“Members of a biker gang,” the merc replied acidly, his eyes now hard as granite.
“Not my biker gang,” Sherman shot back sharply.
“Are you sure? Or was it your brother’s,” Vince retorted, baring fangs.
“Kaden’s gang didn’t attack innocents,” Sherman replied.
Cullen cut in. “Are you forgetting about Crash?”
That shut Sherman up. Briefly.
“Fuck! Crash attacked your family?” he asked, sounding horrified. Crash was a psychotic killer who’d had an unnatural obsession for on
e of their wolverine shifters, Mystery. He’d nearly killed Mystery and his friends when he’d caught up with them. Mystery had shot him, not that long ago, ending his reign of terror. It had left lasting scars on Mystery as well as others who’d been involved.
“His family was fucked up,” Vince said frankly. “He was a sociopath. Even then. I locked up his uncle and younger brother. They didn’t adapt to prison life too well and got themselves into trouble. His uncle died. Shanked in the showers.” Vince shrugged. “Crash blamed me.”
“So he killed your partner and two sons?” Drew stated, shaking his head. “Then you didn’t take this job because of my father…but because of my uncle Kaden?”
Vince shot him a look, unreadable. “No. I took it because your father was behind the hit.”
That got everyone’s attention.
“He was working with Crash?” Cracker asked, frowning.
“Daniel worked with his uncle,” Vince corrected. “Crash was their pawn. His uncle used him as his weapon. Got him all riled up, then sent him after whoever ‘offended’ him. Thought himself as some kind of mafia kingpin.”
“So you’ve been trying to get back at Daniel?” Cullen asked, tilting his head. “That doesn’t ring true, cupcake. Why go after Drew? I don’t believe in coincidence. Drew is Daniel’s son. What a coup, to take someone that’s Daniel’s kin.”
“Daniel doesn’t care about his family!” Vince hissed, glaring. “He only wants the money. The guy has no idea what family’s about. He’s a soulless demon high on his own self-importance. And he’s still running Flashpoint from prison. While you’re scratching your asses, he’s planning ten steps ahead. And he will kill again. Any one of your brothers will do, Drew. To send a message that he’s invincible.”
“Is that so?” Sherman replied in a silky soft voice.
