by Lynn Hagen
“I hate you!” Baxter tore the blinds from the window. “You can’t keep me a prisoner here. I won’t let you. You’re not my father. You can’t tell me what I can do.”
He stormed past Scott and stomped toward the front door. Coco whimpered and tucked his tail, hiding behind the couch. When Baxter reached for the doorknob, Scott intervened. He moved to block his mate.
“You can destroy my house if that helps, but I’m not letting you walk out so you can tear your world back down.” He crossed his arms. “And there’s still the matter of those men after you.”
“I don’t care.” Baxter bared his teeth. “They can do whatever they want. It’s not like I remember that night anyway.” He tried to shove Scott aside, but Scott refused to budge. “Move!”
“No.” Scott shook his head as his heart broke.
Baxter spun and swung his arm out, knocking over the living room lamp. He ran toward the kitchen, but Scott was faster, stopping his mate from leaving out the back door.
Baxter wailed on Scott’s chest, screaming and crying. Scott took every last punch, waiting for his mate to wear himself out.
“I hate myself,” he cried. “I hate what I’ve become. I hate what my father did to me, the lies I’ve had to tell. I hate everything.”
That was when Scott folded Baxter into his arms. He stood there holding his mate, shedding silent tears for him, for the life he’d had—though Scott knew nothing about Baxter’s upbringing or his hatred toward his father.
His mate’s anger renewed, and he clawed at Scott’s chest. “Just let me go. Why do you even fucking care what happens to me? Because you say we’re mates? That’s bullshit!”
“I’m not gonna let you self-destruct.” Scott kept a firm hold on Baxter. “I’m not gonna let you walk out of here and undo the hard work you’ve already done.”
Baxter screeched as he thrashed in Scott’s arms. It was like trying to hold a Tasmanian devil. Baxter’s boney elbows hurt, along with the kicks he managed to land.
But Scott still held him.
Finally, Baxter collapsed against him, his energy spent. Scott lifted Baxter into his arms and carried him to the sofa. He sat, cradling his mate against his chest.
This wouldn’t be Baxter’s last outburst, but hopefully they’d ease with time.
“I’m sorry.” Baxter tried his hardest to muffle his cry with his hand. “I’m sorry I brought this into your life. You don’t deserve someone like me.”
“My shoulders are strong. You can cry on them or beat on them. They’ll hold.” Scott rubbed Baxter’s back. “Just let it all out.”
Baxter sat up and wiped at his eyes. “I think I just did. I made a mess of my room and destroyed some of your things.”
“Replaceable.” Scott used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away Baxter’s remaining tears. “You’re not.”
Baxter lay his head back down. Scott just held him in the quiet room. He knew this had been building up. That was why he hadn’t claimed Baxter. He was right when he thought his mate wasn’t ready, not for sex and not for the outside world.
His mate laughed. “Now I get it.”
“Get what?”
“You said you hoped I liked cats.” Baxter sighed. “Cryptic much?”
“It wasn’t like I could tell you I was a lion shifter. Not right away.” Scott smiled. “I had to ease you into that.”
“Mind blown.” Baxter yawned. The guy had exhausted himself. Seconds later, he was lightly snoring.
Scott carried him to bed and tucked him in. He grabbed a broom and dustpan, returned to the room, and cleaned up the broken glass before putting the blinds back up. Scott doused the light, hoping Baxter got a good night’s sleep.
Unwilling to leave his mate alone, Scott grabbed a chair from the kitchen and set it by the bed to keep a watch over Baxter while his mate slept.
* * * *
Scott must’ve dozed off. When he opened his eyes, the room was bathed in darkness, but he could make out Baxter’s outline in the bed. His mate was still asleep, and Scott was hoping Baxter was having pleasant dreams.
When he stretched, his back popped. Sleeping in a chair was no joke. Shifters didn’t contract human diseases or ailments, but a sore back was a sore back in any species.
Scott stood and did a few arm thrusts, trying his best to loosen his muscles. His chest stung, and he didn’t know why until he recalled that Baxter had scratched him earlier.
His mouth was dry, so Scott gazed at his mate one more time before he made his way to the kitchen. Coco was fast asleep on the couch. Scott normally wouldn’t allow any animals on the furniture, but with his small zoo, it would be a losing battle. He might’ve been the dominant cat in the house, but he wasn’t the one who ran it most of the time.
Coco lifted his head and gave Scott a bleary-eyed stare before going back to sleep. Scott went into the kitchen but didn’t bother turning the light on. He could see perfectly fine in the dark.
He was in the middle of chugging down a bottle of water to wet his parched throat when he heard glass shatter then tires squealing. Before Scott even made it to the hallway, he could smell the smoke.
Baxter screamed.
Scott’s heart lodged in his throat. He shoved open the bedroom door and instinctively threw his arm up. Flames were already eating at the carpet and bed.
Somebody had thrown a Molotov cocktail into his house. He saw the broken glass. It had a greenish tint to it.
Baxter raced toward him and yanked on Scott’s hand. “We have to get out of here!”
Coco was barking his head off but remained in the living room.
Instead of running out the door, Scott raced to the kitchen and grabbed the fire extinguisher. He was a firefighter and knew the blaze was still containable.
“Call the sheriff,” Scott shouted as he hurried back to the room and worked to put the fire out.
Baxter appeared by the door, cordless phone against his ear. He was talking bullet-fast as Scott swept the base of the fire with the nozzle. By the time he was done, the room was a powdery mess. There was no way Baxter could sleep in there. Scott still checked the room for hotspots and was relieved when he didn’t find any.
“Police are on their way.” Baxter’s hair was sticking up in all directions, and he appeared dazed, but there was tangible fear in his eyes. “Those biker thugs did this, didn’t they?” He hugged the phone to his chest. “I can’t stay here. They’ll come back, and next time, we might not make it out of this alive.”
Scott set the extinguisher aside and pulled Baxter into his arms. His mate was shaking badly. This had to end. Scott wasn’t being forced out of his own home. Not tonight, not ever.
When Deputy Joshua Hayley arrived, Scott told him about the men after Baxter and how he thought they were the ones responsible for the fire.
“Did you get a look at anyone?” Hayley gazed at the destroyed room and grimaced. The bedroom was a mess from the fire and from Baxter’s earlier destruction. It also smelled like charred remains.
“No, but I heard tires squealing.” Scott’s frustration mounted. He could say all day who he thought it was, but he hadn’t seen the car or the person who’d tossed the gasoline and motor oil cocktail into his house.
Joshua promised to stay outside the house tonight, and Scott was grateful, but what about tomorrow or the day after? He couldn’t do this anymore. He needed help protecting his mate and his house. There were helpless animals there who would’ve perished if Scott hadn’t gotten the fire under control.
And the cocktail had been thrown through Baxter’s window. Scott had to remain calm, be the levelheaded one, but his gut was churning and his hands were shaking. If the cocktail had gone just a bit farther, it would’ve hit the bed, engulfing Baxter in flames.
Scott wanted the son of a bitch’s head on a pike. He wanted him dead yesterday. His lion wanted to maul the culprit, to tear out his fucking throat.
When Hayley left the house, Scott made a phone call. He stepped in
to the kitchen so Baxter wouldn’t hear him.
“I need a huge favor,” he said when Deputy Malik Burrows answered the phone. Scott explained what was going on and what had just happened tonight.
“I know a guy you can hire,” Malik said. “He comes at a steep price, but he’s damn good at what he does. You’ll never even know he’s there.”
“A bodyguard?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Give him a call.” Scott hung up. He was willing to pay whatever price to keep Baxter safe.
“Can I come in?”
Scott turned at the sound of his mate’s voice. Baxter stood in the doorway, the cordless still shoved against his chest.
“Why would you ask that?” Scott tucked his cell phone into his pocket and crossed the room.
“You just look really pissed, and I was afraid that anger, some of it, was geared toward me.”
“Never.” Scott kissed Baxter’s forehead. “This is that asshole’s fault, never yours. You didn’t ask to be stalked.”
Baxter finally set the phone down on the kitchen table. “What’re we gonna do? The cop can’t stay posted outside the house forever.” Anger lines filled Baxter’s face. “How can we stop them? I want this over.”
Anger. That was an emotion Scott could deal with. He also liked the blaze of indignation in Baxter’s eyes.
“I think I just solved that problem.” He told Baxter about the guy Malik recommended. Why keep it a secret? They were in this together. If Scott was asking Baxter for total honesty, he needed to do the same.
“But how can you afford him on a fireman’s salary?”
Baxter’s concern made Scott laugh. “Another fun fact. I’m close to two hundred years old. Young for my kind, but I’ve worked hard my entire life and have a hefty savings. I seriously doubt the cost will put a dent in my wallet.”
The skin under Baxter’s eye twitched. “I’m gonna go lie down on the couch.”
“I show you my lion, and that doesn’t bother you. I tell you my age, and you’re freaking out?” Scott led Baxter to his bedroom. “And you’re sleeping in here.”
Baxter pointed to the large glass tank on a stand by the closet. “Tell me you have a garter snake in there.”
“Sure, if that’ll help you sleep.” Scott covered the tank so Baxter couldn’t get a look at Buddy, his bull snake. It was non-venomous, but he feared Baxter would still have a meltdown at Buddy’s three-foot length, though he was still young and growing. He looked fierce but was nothing more than a cuddle bunny.
At least for Scott, but he never took a chance with Buddy around the other animals. Why tempt fate?
Baxter gave the tank a wide berth as he made his way to the bed. Scott was still wired, and even though Deputy Hayley was outside, Scott didn’t feel safe. He wanted that in-a-manner-of-speaking bodyguard there. Scott wanted the person responsible caught.
And he wanted Baxter so badly that he walked out of the room before he gave into that deep-seated desire.
* * * *
Wheeler ground his teeth when he waited twenty minutes and still no fire truck. He knew he’d hit his mark, but the house wasn’t engulfed in flames.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have tried to burn a fireman’s house down,” Mount said from the passenger seat.
“I don’t think that was a smart idea,” Dooby said from the back. “He’s probably got a thousand fire extinguishers laying around.”
Wheeler gritted his teeth. “Thanks for the fucking critique.”
It had been a hasty decision, anyway. Wheeler had seen the cop leave earlier and thought he had a shot at killing the twink. He’d been driving by the house on and off for the past week, keeping low in his stolen car. He’d figured out where the twink slept and had made his move.
Wheeler wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
“We should just break in, guns blazing, and kill the big guy,” Mount said. “Then you can take the little one and do what you want with him.”
Wheeler still had to figure out where the other twink lived. He’d had a hard time finding any information on him. It wasn’t as though Ruiz had shared those intimate details with anyone. But if Wheeler wanted the president position, he had to make an impressive move.
Getting payback for Ruiz’s death would be his ticket. He just had to find a way to exact his revenge without getting caught and killed or jailed.
There was nothing else he could do tonight. Not with the cop car posted out front. Wheeler would be back, though. He wasn’t gonna give up so easily.
* * * *
Scott answered his phone in the wee hours of the morning.
“He’s there,” Malik said. “You can rest easy now.”
“Thanks.” Scott hung up, satisfied to have someone watching his back.
Chapter Six
Baxter had no idea what had gotten into him, but he felt like his old self as he danced around, pouring pancake batter onto the hot griddle. He couldn’t cook for shit but hoped the pancakes were edible. They did look kind of thick.
But he wanted to show his appreciation to Scott. The guy had gone through hell dealing with Baxter. Fucked-up pancakes and burnt bacon was his way of saying how grateful he was.
Baxter tossed a piece of the bacon on the floor. Coco inched over and sniffed it, turned his nose up, and walked out of the kitchen. Baxter didn’t know anything about dogs, but he was sure that was a bad sign.
“Sweet, breakfast.” Scott came into the room and placed his hand on the small of Baxter’s back. “I have Russell Hughes coming over in a little while to take a look at the damage in the guest room. He’s a local handyman with fair prices.”
Baxter worked the spatula under the pancake so he could flip it, but the damn thing kept getting stuck. It was starting to cave in on itself and curl in the middle.
Scott cleared his throat. “Instead of you working hard in here, why don’t we grab something at the diner?”
That got Baxter’s attention. “You mean leave the house?”
He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. What if he ran into Jayce? Baxter’s heart sped at the thought of having to explain things to his best friend. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that, either.
Scott turned the burner off and set the pan in the sink. Faint, dark smoke billowed when he ran water over it. The pan sizzled and popped, and Baxter walked over, watching as Scott shoved the pancake down the garbage disposal.
For a second he didn’t think the pancake would give up the fight, but it sank to its death.
Baxter arched a brow. “That bad?”
Scott kissed his temple. “We’ll work on your culinary skills. You get an A for effort, though. And yes, I mean leave the house.”
Beanie, one of the cats, came in and sniffed at the piece of bacon on the floor and then started batting it around. The other cat—Baxter wasn’t sure of its name—joined in on the fun.
At least the cats had a new toy to play with.
“I’d rather not go.” Baxter went to the counter and began to clean up his mess. To hell with it. He would just make himself a bologna sandwich.
Scott moved in behind him, his hands landing on Baxter’s waist. Baxter had to force himself not to lean into Scott’s chest. Hadn’t he rejected Baxter? That had felt like the ultimate humiliation, and Baxter wasn’t ready for a repeat.
“What has you so afraid of going into town? I’ll be right there with you.”
Baxter moved away, setting the batter bowl in the sink. He grabbed the utensils and tossed them in, as well.
“Bax, talk to me.” Scott leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “You can’t keep things bottled up inside.”
Baxter tossed the dishtowel onto the counter and faced Scott. “I don’t want to run into people I know. What if they start asking questions I’m not ready to answer? Besides, I still have a lunatic after me. It’s just not safe to leave the house.”
“Trust me, no one in that diner is gonna let anything happen to you
. The owner, Cyril, is a black panther shifter. Moose, he’s a bear shifter. The guy Russel who’s coming over, he’s a cheetah shifter. You’ll be surrounded by men who take the protection of a mate seriously.” Scott harrumphed. “And I’m not chopped liver. I’ll tear apart anyone foolish enough to come near you.”
Baxter just kept getting his mind blown. But Moose being a bear made sense. The waiter was as big as one. Baxter could actually see that.
“And the men who are after me?” Baxter grabbed the dishtowel and wrung it. “What are they?”
Scott curled his lip. “Human. They don’t stand a chance if they decide to try something.”
Baxter watched as the cats batted the burnt piece of bacon under the fridge. They tried to claw at it, but it must’ve gone too far.
“It’s Jayce,” Baxter finally confessed. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, and I haven’t talked to him in close to a month. He’s gonna be pissed. I haven’t returned any of his calls or texts, and I’m afraid of running into him. We used to tell each other everything, but I’m too embarrassed to tell him I got hooked on drugs.”
That was Baxter’s biggest fear. It trumped his fear of using again or those biker thugs getting their hands on him. Shame. That was his anxiety in a nutshell.
“We won’t stay long, but I think getting out, even for just a bit, could be beneficial for you.” Scott tucked a piece of stray hair behind Baxter’s ear. “What do you say?”
The first two weeks after his kidnapping had been a blur. The past week and a half he’d stayed tucked away at Scott’s house. Baxter felt like he’d been detached from the world.
“What if—”
Scott placed a finger over Baxter’s lips. “There’s always gonna be what-ifs, but we have to work past them. I have faith in you, Bax. You can do this.”
Besides Jayce, no one had ever had this level of confidence in him before. Not even his boss when Baxter worked at the plating company. Mr. Grossman had always kept a watchful eye on him, and now that Baxter thought about it, his boss had leered at him in a creepy way, like he was imagining Baxter without any clothes on or having more perverted thoughts.
