by Lynn Hagen
It had been his mother who’d given Scott all the praise and love she could shower on him. He still felt gutted every time he thought of her tragic death.
Scott ground his teeth and forced those memories back, carrying the tray to the guest room. He didn’t bother to knock. He seriously doubted Baxter was in a state of undress.
When he opened the door and looked at the bed, Scott snarled. The room was empty, and the window was wide open.
Chapter Three
Wheeler drove slowly through Maple Grove, searching for the two pricks who’d damn near destroyed the club. He was gonna catch up to them and slowly torture them before he ended their lives.
He didn’t mention to Mount or Dooby how much he was looking forward to making those men scream. The thought excited him in ways he never fully understood. Wheeler had been like that his entire life. At first it had been animals, and then he’d been expelled from three different schools for his violent behavior. No one had understood his need to inflict pain. Everyone had looked at him as a monster.
It wasn’t until he’d made it into the Black Pythons that he truly felt at home. His mother had always looked at Wheeler as if he was a threat to her, like he’d snap her neck or smother her in her sleep. His father had bailed when Wheeler was fifteen, claiming he couldn’t be around his deranged son any longer. The bastard had never had a spine anyway.
It had been Casey who’d made Wheeler feel normal, and those jackasses who’d rescued the two twinks killed the only man who ever had Wheeler’s back. The only man who’d ever told Wheeler that his needs weren’t that of a monster but of someone who just saw the world differently.
Mount and Dooby were good little foot soldiers, but they’d never made Wheeler feel the way Casey had—strong, confident, and, above all else, normal. Secretly, Wheeler had had a crush on the guy. Not a man crush, either.
A full-blown “I’d suck your dick” kind of thing, but Wheeler knew how dangerous it would’ve been to reveal that sort of information. Casey would’ve gutted him.
“You don’t have an address?” Dooby asked from the backseat.
Mount looked over his shoulder with furrowed brows. “Why you gotta ask such dumb questions? If Wheeler had the address, he would’ve gone straight to their houses, fucking idiot.”
Wheeler ignored them as he squinted at some guy walking down the road. He didn’t have any shoes or a coat on, and he was rubbing his arms pretty hard. Wheeler knew the body language. He’d seen it plenty of times when someone was jonesing. It wasn’t the cold but the driving need to get his next fix.
The closer he drove, the more Wheeler realized that luck had just dropped into his lap. Holy shit! It was one of the twinks. How? Wheeler burst out laughing as he pulled his car to the side of the road.
* * * *
Scott drove in the direction of Baxter’s apartment. He couldn’t think of anywhere else his mate might’ve gone. Then again, he didn’t really know Baxter well enough to assume he wouldn’t try to get to his dealer or go someplace else.
God, this was déjà vu all over again. How many times had Scott hunted down his father after he’d been gone for days on end? How many times had his mother begged him to find her mate? So many times that Scott had lost count.
And here he was again, chasing down his mate who had an addiction problem. But this was different. Scott had to keep telling himself that. Baxter was his mate, and mates were precious things. Baxter was his one shot at happiness, but at the moment, Scott didn’t see how.
Baxter hadn’t been clean twenty-four hours before he’d taken off.
Scott sighed in relief when he spotted Baxter walking down the side of the road, but his relief was short-lived when he noticed a dark sedan pulling over.
Scott’s gut told him something wasn’t right. He drove faster until he was right behind the car. Scott jumped out just as the driver did. They looked at one another, locking gazes. The stranger said something to someone inside through the driver’s window, and the back door, as well as the passenger door, opened and two men got out.
The one who’d exited the passenger seat pulled a gun from his waistband as the driver continued toward Baxter. Scott snarled, racing toward his mate, ignoring the danger.
Hadn’t Sal warned him that the biker members wanted revenge? Was that who these guys were? Was their plan to kidnap Baxter? Scott nearly shifted as he raced around the two men who tried to step in his way.
He slammed his fist into one and had to stop in order to wrestle with the other. That took precious minutes, but Scott got free in time to stop the driver from hauling a screaming Baxter into the car.
Scott grabbed Baxter and pulled his mate behind him. The three men scrambled back into their car and took off, leaving Scott seething as he watched them speed away.
He would’ve gone after them in his truck, but he wasn’t taking Baxter on a high-speed chase. And what would he have done when he caught up to them? Left Baxter in the truck, vulnerable, while he beat the brakes off those men?
“What were you thinking?” He hadn’t meant to yell at his mate, but Scott’s heart wouldn’t slow down. He hauled Baxter off his feet and carried him to his truck, placing Baxter in the passenger seat. Scott took a moment to catch his breath as he rested his hand against the door.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He closed his eyes, snarled, then jumped into the driver’s seat. Baxter didn’t say a word. He was huddled against the door as Scott made a U-turn and headed back home.
“Do you know who those men were?”
Baxter shook his head but kept staring out the passenger window.
“Have you ever seen them before?”
Baxter nodded.
“Can you answer me?” Scott gripped the wheel tight as he gnashed his teeth. “Where have you seen them?”
Baxter slowly turned his head and looked at Scott. “They were at the clubhouse where I was taken when I was kidnapped.”
Scott let out a slew of curses under his breath. Sal had been right. Retaliation. He pulled his phone out and called Sheriff Copache to tell Grayson what had just happened.
“Is Baxter all right?”
“I got him,” Scott said. “I also got the license plate number.” Scott rattled it off. “Sal told me what happened, how Jayce and Baxter had been taken. He also said he’d heard a rumor about the Black Pythons wanting revenge. It’s more than a rumor.”
Grayson cursed. “I’ll have a patrol car check things out, but I’m pretty sure those guys have already left town.”
“So there’s nothing you can do?”
“I can talk to the sheriff of Falls Bend, but from what I know, the Black Pythons have been a thorn in his side for years. I highly doubt he’ll make an arrest.”
“That’s bullshit,” Scott said. “They’re just gonna get away with this?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Grayson said before he hung up.
Frustrated, Scott took Baxter inside. He was carrying his mate again. It seemed he was doing that a lot. But his mate wasn’t fighting him like he’d done outside the clinic. Baxter was docile, quiet, and that worried Scott. Then again, what about Baxter didn’t worry him?
When Scott put him on the couch and started to walk away, Baxter grabbed his wrist. Scott looked down at Baxter and noticed his mate was staring up at him.
“Why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice to me, saving me from not only myself but those thugs? What’s in it for you?”
Baxter was already dealing with enough. Scott didn’t want to tell him that they were mates, that he was a lion shifter, and that Scott’s heart already belonged to him even before they’d met. Scott wouldn’t lay that kind of shit in his mate’s lap when he was dealing with so much already.
“How about another deal?”
Baxter looked hesitantly at him. “What kind of deal?”
Scott hunkered down in front of him. Baxter was still holding his wrist. Scott thought Baxter needed the connection just as much as he did. A lost soul
he was dying to hold, to never let go, and Scott wanted to help Baxter find his way back to who he used to be before the drugs. He’d really love to meet that Baxter. Scott was betting his mate had a great personality and was fun to be around.
“You fight this, and I mean really fight this, and I’ll explain everything to you. I’ll give you the world if you give me everything you have.” He brushed his knuckles over Baxter’s reddened cheek. His skin felt cold from being outside.
Baxter bit his lower lip, his teeth sinking into the softest lips Scott had ever seen. “This isn’t who I am.”
Scott leaned up just enough to press a kiss against his mate’s forehead. “I know. The drugs have their claws in you, and if you’ll trust me, I’ll help you pull them out one at a time.”
He wasn’t foolish enough to think Baxter would kick the habit overnight. This was gonna take time. But Scott needed Baxter to want this, too. He refused to believe his mate was as hopeless as his father had been. Remus Mulligan had been a bastard even before he’d gotten hooked. Scott didn’t see that in Baxter.
“I want to be my old self again.” Baxter released Scott’s wrist. “Will you really help me? Because, right now, I don’t think I have the strength to do this on my own.”
Scott took both of Baxter’s hands in his. He kissed each one and smiled. “I think we can do great things together. You just have to trust me.”
Baxter looked like he was mulling this over. His gaze snapped from Scott’s face, to their hands, and then back to his face. Baxter blew out a breath, nodded, and straightened his shoulders. Scott’s heart skipped a beat when a small smile played at the guy’s lips.
“Okay, Mr. Nosy, I’ll trust you.”
Scott’s ears had never heard sweeter words.
* * * *
Eight days, seven hours, and fifty-one minutes. That was how long it had been since Baxter had stepped foot in Scott’s house. The first couple of days after his promise to fight this were a hellish nightmare Baxter would rather forget. Screams, sweat, begging, and vomiting, and as promised, Scott had stayed by his side.
Baxter felt wrecked, sore, and exhausted. Even his eyelids hurt. One good thing from those couple of dark days was that his appetite was coming back. Baxter was also feeling slightly better, more like his old self, but he knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet.
And sitting at the entrance to the kitchen was a midsized mutt who wouldn’t stop staring at him. They were eyeing one another, measuring each other up. Two of Scott’s cats were at their food bowls, chowing down.
Baxter was seated at the table, a bowl of oatmeal in front of him with two slices of buttered toast. Scott was in the shower. Baxter knew that because he’d passed the bathroom and heard the water going.
Baxter had to be feeling better, because his mind had gone straight to the gutter and he was wondering what that hot fireman looked like wet and naked, suds sliding slowly down his ripped body. Baxter’s imagination conjured up the smell of Irish Spring, because god, he loved that smell, though he wasn’t certain what kind of body soap Scott was using.
Coco whimpered and crawled a little closer, licking his chops. He either wanted some of Baxter’s toast, or the dog was contemplating taking a bit out of him. Baxter tore off a piece and held it up. Coco’s tail wagged as his head lifted off the floor.
“Do you do any tricks?” Baxter waved the piece of toast. “Sit.” Nothing. “Roll over.” Nothing but a greedy stare. “Save me from a zombie apocalypse?”
Coco barked.
Baxter tossed the toast at him. “I’m holding you to that.”
The dog scooted a bit closer, as if testing the waters. Coco hadn’t gotten up yet, but there was hope in his eyes. What the hell. Toast wasn’t Baxter’s favorite food group. He tossed the other half, and Coco caught it midair.
“So you do have a talent.” Baxter smiled. “Maybe we can work on the rest. You aren’t too old to learn new tricks, are you?”
Coco looked away from him.
“That’s okay. I’m not very good at new tricks, either. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Baxter was starting to believe the dog could understand him, because his tail started wagging.
“Just as long as you have one talent in life, you’ll get by.” Baxter forced himself to continue eating his oatmeal. Strawberry cream. Scott had made it and had even added real strawberries. “My talent changed. I used to be able to talk my way into anything. I was quite the charmer. Now all I know how to do is royally screw up. Trust me, you got it better.”
Coco inched even closer. Baxter tossed him another piece of his toast. Once again Coco caught it midair. Now his tail was wagging like crazy, like he was proud of his one ability and didn’t mind showing it off.
“If you come closer, I’ll pet you. I mean it’s the least I can do since you’ve sworn to protect me from zombies.”
Coco didn’t move as Baxter finished his oatmeal, proud that he’d eaten every last bite. He rinsed his bowl and placed it into the sink, skirting around the dog. Baxter wasn’t going to pet him until Coco was ready for that. He still hadn’t moved from his spot, so he clearly wasn’t ready for friendly contact.
Baxter walked back to his room, passing the bathroom. The shower was still going. He ignored the urge to shove his ear against the door and went to his room.
He stood in front of the mirror mounted behind the dresser. God, he looked like shit. His features were gaunt and pale, and there was luggage under his eyes.
“Today is a new chapter in your life.” Baxter was determined to win this struggle. He wanted his old life back, even though he was now jobless. That was okay. One step at a time. He wanted to accomplish one thing today, no matter how small.
Baxter wasn’t ready to go out into the world just yet, but he could find something to do in the house. Besides, he didn’t want to run into those thugs again. He felt sick at the thought of how close they’d come to taking him.
An overdue phone call to Jayce? Maybe not. Baxter wasn’t ready to face his best friend, even over the phone. He’d eventually call Jayce, but Baxter needed to get himself together first.
A knock sounded on his open door. Baxter nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw Scott standing there, water dripping down his muscled body and wearing nothing but a towel curled around his waist.
Good lord almighty. His body was a feast Baxter’s gaze was eating up. “Was…” He had to focus. “Was there something you wanted?”
“Just thought I heard you talking to someone.” Scott leaned an arm against the doorframe, his muscles flexing. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes.” Baxter gave Scott his back. He didn’t want the temptation. Mr. Nosy was just being nice, opening his home to a junkie and helping to get him clean. There were no sparks between them. At least not on Scott’s end.
Baxter went to the closet and pretended to look for something just so Scott would go away.
“How was breakfast?”
“Good.” Baxter pulled shirts off hangers and then rehung them. He straightened the few pair of shoes Chief Monroe and his boyfriend, Renny, had brought over.
Baxter took a chance and looked over his shoulder, sighing in relief when he saw that Scott had walked away. He was battling to get rid of one beast, and now there was another growing in his pants.
Chapter Four
Scott went to his room before he did something insane, like drop his towel in front of Baxter. He kept telling himself that his mate wasn’t ready, that Baxter needed more time. Scott would know when the time came, but it wasn’t now.
After powdering his balls with baby powder and sliding on a pair of boxer briefs and a clean white T-shirt, Scott headed toward the kitchen. Baxter was on the couch, some movie playing on the television. Scott was torturing himself, wearing only underwear and a shirt. But he still had six more days of vacation before he had to head back to the station.
Since he had no plans today, Scott wanted to be comfortable. That was what he kept
telling himself as he took out the thawed ground meat from the fridge. Taco night. He used to go to Tilted on Tuesdays for Reese’s delicious tacos. Scott used to do a lot of things before he became stuck in the house, but that was a decision he didn’t regret.
Not if it meant saving Baxter.
He seared the ground meat and cut up some lettuce, tossing some cooked meat to Coco as he worked. Scott truly spoiled his damn dog, but Coco deserved that after the life he’d had. He still carried the scars, on the parts a person could see. That only made Scott love him even more.
“Smells good.” Baxter walked into the kitchen and joined Scott at the stove. “Do you need any help?”
Scott tossed some frozen corn into a pan with a touch of oil and some cinnamon. “Roast the corn, but don’t overdo it.”
Baxter grabbed a spatula from the black ceramic utensil holder and looked at the pan like a sentry guarding his troops. His gaze was steady, focused. Scott laughed.
“Cooking is fun, Bax. Stop looking so serious.” Scott lifted the pan from the burner and tossed the corn into the air, catching every kernel with ease.
“You’re pretty good at that.” Baxter’s smile made Scott’s chest grow tight. Did his mate know just how gorgeous it was?
“You try it.” He handed Baxter the handle, and his mate took it. He tried to toss the corn in the air, but some of the kernels fell onto the stove. “You’ll get the hang of it. At least most of it stayed in the pan.”
Once the food on the stove was done, they grabbed the other fixings—sour cream, salsa, shredded cheese, diced tomatoes, and Scott’s favorite, hot chilies. They made a buffet on the counter, everything in its own separate bowls.
Coco, with his tongue hanging out, danced around them, his tail wagging like crazy. Scott made him his own little bowl, just meat, and set it on the floor. Coco devoured it in seconds.
They took their plates to the living room and settled on the sofa, deciding on a movie to watch. While Scott ate heartily, Baxter fussed over his food, eating only half a taco.
