A few minutes later, Christian was walking purposefully down the hallway to the elevators, stuffing the animal tranquilizer in his pocket. Derrick followed him quietly, watching. They took the elevator all the way up. Where the floor number would be, it only said, Manager. "This time, could, you uh, stand next to me?" Christian asked Derrick, blushing.
"Why?"
"It will help."
Before he could ask what it would help, the doors opened. There was only one door in front of them. Apparently, being manager had its perks, like the entire top penthouse floor. Christian knocked on the door and plastered another carefree, and Derrick was realizing absolutely fake, smile on his face.
The door opened, and an older woman stood on the other side dressed in a designer lounging outfit. Her hair was curled and pinned up, and she wore a lot of makeup. Despite the incredibly early hour. The lights inside her apartment, the parts that Derrick could see, were all on. She must either be a night owl or a very early riser. "Christian, my favorite tenant."
"Agnes," he cooed and leaned forward, kissing her once on each cheek.
Agnes practically melted with excitement. Derrick withheld his scoff. Her eyes slid past Christian and landed on him, taking in his scowling expression and then sliding down his body like he was a cow at an auction.
"Who's the friend?" she asked, somehow managing to make the question sound dirty with unspoken implications.
Christian didn't miss a beat. "He's Derrick. Derrick, this is the lovely Ms. Agnes. She owns this building."
"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Derrick said, knowing now was a time for his drawl.
She clapped her hands together. "A southern gentleman!" She shielded her mouth away from Derrick and spoke to Christian in a mock whisper. "Did you finally bring me a model for you to pose with?"
Now, what the hell did that mean? And what was up with the many faces of Christian? Initially, he'd thought him just an overly nice guy, and in the time since, he'd seen him seamlessly morph into different personalities depending on who he was talking to, on what he needed from them. Was he a complete fake? That kiss hadn't seemed fake.
"Unfortunately, no. I came to ask an awful favor of you. Something that would help me, help us," he gestured to himself and Derrick, "Tremendously. It might even save our lives."
He deserved a medal for his performance. Agnes was completely swept up in it. Probably imagining some star-crossed romance story garbage.
"I think people may come looking for me. Come looking for us. I have no reason to believe they would hurt you. You are free to call the police as your first option, of course. But if you are brave enough to talk to the people coming after me, do me a favor and give them my dad's name?"
"Your dad?" she squeaked. "Honey, are you sure? That won't get me into more trouble?"
"No. Something this tiny, it won't even blip on his radar."
"Baby bear, I don't know. Why can't I just tell them your name but that I don't know much about you?"
Agnes didn't want to do what Christian was asking her. Derrick wasn't sure of Christian's end game, but he had to admit, there was an artistry to this web he was spinning. Christian didn't seem to notice her hesitance. "I'm gonna lay low for a bit. But when I get back, I absolutely plan on carving out at least a week to be in your studio. What do you say? Agnes? Hm?"
"Christian, I doubt—"
"I'll call him. Okay?" Christian said, clearly wishing he didn't have to offer. "I'll tell my dad that you had to do this. And it will be all right."
That relieved her. She cocked her painted face to the side like a curious bird. "What are you into?"
Christian slid his arm around Derrick's waist, pulling him close to his side. Derrick didn't dislike it but didn't like it either. It wasn't the being near to Christian part he disliked. It was how, and why. He didn't appreciate being used as a prop. "Just boyfriend trouble," Christian said easily.
That was enough to appease her. With another round of kisses--Derrick wasn't able to escape his two pecks on the cheek--they were back in the elevator. Christian blushed furiously as Derrick gawked at him.
"Who are you?" Derrick asked in the silence.
"Christian McGannon," he responded quietly.
"Who's your dad?"
Chapter 3
Christian so did not want to get into that topic. He had a stock response to give people when they asked about his parentage. His mother passed when he was young, and his father was in business. If anyone ever asked what time of business, Christian said sales and then usually people stopped asking.
Because that was boring. It was also not true.
He couldn't give Derrick this stock answer anyway, not after what he'd just witnessed.
He sighed. "Patrick McGannon." There was no blink of recognition. "Paddy McGannon? Patrick 'The Pistol' McGannon? You've never heard of him?"
Derrick shook his head. "Sorry, no."
"That's surprising. Especially from someone who spends so much time on the streets."
"Someone who—"
"Oh, I'm not, like, I don't care that you don't have a permanent residence or anything. Less trouble I bet, that way. Less junk mail for sure."
"You think I'm homeless?" Derrick asked with a weird half-smile.
Christian hurried ahead of Derrick so he wouldn't have to see if he'd offended him. The lack of sleep and excitement was beginning to catch up with him. "You were asleep in an alley when we met," he pointed out. They were at his door now. Christian stopped. "Look I have to do one more thing, and then I have to disappear. Until this Lucian thing blows over anyway. You should probably too."
"I can help you," Derrick said, distracted by the sudden notion of not being with Christian anymore.
Christian shifted. "It's not exactly legal, what I'm about to do. I can't have that guy in there going straight to his boss and ruining the hard work I just put in upstairs." Christian saw Derrick's expression and understood it immediately. "I know killing him would've been easier. For you. I don't kill. I'm not my dad."
Derrick wanted to argue, but he didn't want to do anything that would push Christian further away. "What's your plan?"
"I just want to take that guy far enough away so that at the least it will take him a while to find his way back home. Who knows? Maybe he'll like where he is so much he will give up this sordid life of crime he's fallen into."
"I don't think it quite went that way—"
"You never know." Christian could hope. Sometimes people were awesome and surprised you. They only needed to be given a chance.
"So then, how are you going to get him to the middle of nowhere?"
Christian shrugged. "I know a guy."
"Of course you do."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Only that you seem to have a lot of people willing to do dangerous and possibly illegal things for you. I'm a little jealous. If I had as many people wrapped around my finger as you do, I might be in a very different place right now."
Christian wondered what had happened in the gorgeous man's life to land him homeless and passed out drunk in an alley before sunset. It wasn't as if Christian's upbringing had been puppies and roses. There had been roses. Scattered over a hardwood floor, mixed with water, shards of glass and blood. Or, placed in bunches on the top of a shiny, mahogany casket. Christian squeezed his eyes once, pushing those memories back into the shadows where they lingered. He opened the door to his apartment and immediately felt hard fingers grasp around his wrist, yanking him inside.
Pain lanced up his arm. His shoulder felt like it was being ripped from the socket. He had just enough time to stupidly become aware that the intruder had gotten loose before the crushing pain was suddenly gone. A ferocious growl echoed around him, and then a quick yelp. Christian could only lean against the wall in his hallway, cradling his injured hand to his front and breathing rapidly. It had all happened so quickly. The door shut, and Derrick stood in front of him, naked again. His eyes narrowed Christian's inju
red wrist, clutched to his chest.
"Does it hurt a lot?"
"Is he alive?" Christian asked, trying to see past him to the form laying on his living room carpet.
"Does it hurt?" Derrick barked.
"No," Christian muttered, feeling stupid. He was no damsel. So then why was this the third time he'd needed saving?
"Don't lie to me," Derrick said on a growl. He gingerly reached for Christian's wrist and examined it. Already, the red turned into pinks and purples. It would swell up for sure. "Should have just fucking killed him."
Christian flinched, from the anger radiated off of Derrick or the curse, he wasn't sure. "He's scared and cornered, Derrick. We left him tied up. Would you have done anything different?"
"I don't—Damn it, Christian, you are too damned nice." He let Christian's wrist go and put his hand out, expectantly. "Give me the sedative."
Christian eyed him, warily. "I can do it."
"With an injured wrist?"
He had to look away from the display of male dominance going on in front of him. Derrick was not a man used to being denied. That was evident from his square stance and direct eye contact. His expectant hand never wavered, like he did not doubt for a moment that he was going to get what he wanted. But, Christian didn't trust him. Not with this man's life. "I'll manage. I don't think we can give him a sedative now anyway."
Something that sounded like a growl ripped through the air, and suddenly, Christian was pushed against the wall. His injured wrist was out of the way at his side, but in front of him, Derrick pressed against his body, one strong hand gripped his hip while the other snaked around the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss that felt more like a claiming. Derrick's lips were rough and unforgiving, pressing against Christian's with a purpose. His tongue demanded entrance into Christian's mouth where he tasted and teased, tantalizing the nerve endings in his mouth that Christian didn't even realize he had until that point.
His cock swelled in response, pressing against the soft material of his sweatpants. He was sure Derrick could feel it as he could feel Derrick's proof of arousal against his stomach. Derrick's hands slid over his body, touching and rubbing until Christian whimpered. The sound was immediately swallowed by the kiss and then he felt a sharp pinch at his bottom lip and yelped.
"You bit me!" Christian said.
Derrick chuckled. "I'm actually sorry about that." He rubbed his thumb against Christian's lip where a bit of blood had seeped out from the wound. Then, he put his thumb in his mouth.
Christian knew his own hung open. "That is…" Sexy? Hot? "Unhygienic!"
Derrick held his other hand up, flashing the pack of sedatives that Steven had given Christian. The ones that had been placed firmly in the bottom of his sweatshirt pocket.
Christian glowered. "You shouldn't flaunt your life of crime."
"What do you expect from someone who spends so much time on the mean streets?" Derrick said with a wink.
At least he seemed well-adjusted. Still, a guy like him had so much potential. Maybe Christian could help him get a job. After he solved the problem of some gang leader wanting him dead, that was. "I don't think we should sedate an unconscious man," Christian said following Derrick further into his apartment. The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon. They needed to hurry. Too much longer and they'd still be there when reinforcements showed up.
"He isn't completely unconscious," Derrick said, giving the intruder a sharp nudge with his foot. The intruder groaned. "See, he is coming around. Shifters are never out for very long."
Shifters. Derrick had used that word before. He wondered how much Finn knew about them.
"Okay, fine. Put him out. I'll pack some stuff and make…a call." Christian so did not want to have to call his father. Not that the number he had reached his father directly.
He pulled out his phone, scrolling to the contact that simply said, P. M. He pressed call and waited.
"Hello?" some girl said, sounding entirely too young to understand what she was into.
"Is Paddy there?"
"Who's asking?" she said, though now Christian wasn't sure if she was young or if her voice was just incredibly nasally.
"Christian."
"Who?"
He gave a tired sigh. "His son. Look. I don't even want to talk to him. Just tell him I'll be out of town for a while and, just to remember he owns this apartment." There. That should be enough to protect Agnes. He hung up before the woman could say any more.
He scrolled through his contacts to the one that just had a question mark. When someone answered they only said, "Yes?" in a tone of voice that could've sounded like anyone, nondescript and neutral.
Christian explained quickly and succinctly what he needed and then hung up the phone. He hated using his dad's connections, but in this case, it was necessary.
He grabbed a gym bag and stuffed it with a variety of clothes. One could not over prepare for a stint on the lam. He went into the kitchen and threw some non-perishables in the bag and a couple of the aluminum water bottles he kept cool in the fridge for gym sessions. When he made it back to where he'd left Derrick, the intruder was snoring softly.
Christian wasn't sure what state he'd find the intruder in and found himself ridiculously relieved to hear that soft snore.
"I didn't kill him," Derrick said darkly.
"I didn't say you did."
"You thought I would. I think I should. But you didn't want me to."
"Thanks," Christian said, swiping his tongue over the tiny puncture wound on his lip. Heat rose up his body, making his legs and arms feel light.
Derrick looked away very quickly. "Don't mention it. Where are we taking him?"
"The back of the apartment building. Someone will be there shortly."
Wordlessly, Derrick picked up the slumbering man. He wasn't small. Christian would've had a heck of a time getting him out on his own. Especially now that his wrist had swollen up to twice its size. "Are you ready?" he asked as if he'd just lifted a bag of groceries and not a huge man.
Christian looked around his apartment. It was nice, with generic Ikea furnishings. His kitchen and bedroom were sparse. Besides his school bag at his back and the gym bag in his good hand, there was nothing there that could identify him. No family photos or vacation pics. All was for the best. This way, he could leave behind fewer clues, protecting him and Finn.
"I'm ready," Christian said, following Derrick out of his apartment.
#
Derrick deposited the sleeping man into the back of a nondescript white van. The driver was a shorter guy that somehow had the ability to make Derrick feel very jumpy. He looked like he had seen some things and that he hadn't disliked a lot of it. He was the type of guy that when someone asked you what he looked like, you could only think, average. Staring at him now, he saw there was a purposefulness to his average look that made Derrick believe it was all an act.
Christian continued to surprise and annoy him with the variety of people he knew as well as the lengths they all seemed to want to go for him. He hadn't been joking when he said he wished he had that same sort of pull.
When Derrick met people, they generally disliked him. Usually, he didn't care, but it would make his life a little easier if people didn't hate him on sight. Maybe he needed a Public Relations adviser or something. He brought his hand up to the van's back door when Christian stopped him. He pulled out his wallet with one hand and maneuvered a twenty dollar bill out. He put his wallet back in his pocket and bent over, stuffing the bill in the sleeping guy's front pocket.
Derrick couldn't possibly be jealous of how Christian was touching the guy, but he pulled him back all the same. "You are something else."
"He'll probably be hungry when he wakes up. It's not enough to buy him a bus ticket back or anything. Just for a burger," Christian said, his tone defensive.
"You trust that driver not just to dump him in a river?"
Christian looked up in the direction of the driver and
shivered. "I don't trust that guy at all. But he gets paid well. He has no reason not to do this. In his world, his reputation is everything."
That was good enough for Derrick. He shut the van door and slapped the rear twice, the universal symbol to take off. The driver pulled down to the dumpsters and turned onto the main road, leaving Derrick alone with Christian behind the apartment complex. It felt like forever since he had been completely alone with him. But now, the task had been completed. And, ironically, Christian was now kind of homeless. Going back to his apartment in the near future was out of the question. Where would he go?
"Need tips for street living?" Derrick asked, mostly to fill the silence and keep the other man near him. He kind of liked how Christian had no idea who he was talking to. Back in Louisiana, you couldn't say the name Robichaud without everyone around you bowing. He generally didn't mind bowing. But this was refreshing.
"I think I'll just take a page out of our friend's book and just hop on a bus somewhere."
"You don't have any friends around to stay with?"
"Not any I feel comfortable asking."
"That is saying something."
"Look, I'm sorry I stabbed you. Do you need some money? I can give—"
Derrick bit back his growl and put his hand on Christian's, halting him in his motion of reaching for his wallet. "I don't need your money. Actually, I am—"
"Proud. That's okay, I understand." Christian started quickly walking down the alley. Derrick stayed in step beside him.
"Don't you have a life you'd be leaving? I saw your university sweatshirt."
"Yeah, that will suck. But I can always start again," Christian said easily, turning down a busy road.
"Just like that? You don't mind having to uproot yourself because of someone else?" Derrick felt angry enough for the both of them. He grabbed Christian's elbow, halting him, forcing him to stop and see what was happening.
Christian's face was flushed, but not in anger. He licked his lip again, in the spot where Derrick had nipped him. If he kept doing that, they were going to have problems. Derrick wasn't sure why he'd bit him. It was more of a means to an end. He hadn't wanted to stop kissing him. His inner wolf had nearly demanded that he didn't. So he'd bit him. But, if he was honest, it had had the opposite effect on him. His dick was on high alert, aware of every movement that Christian made. He wasn't used to being so hyper-aware of another person. Especially one that moved around as much as Christian.
Wolf's Mate Mpreg Romance Box Set Page 18
