Opposites Attract

by Jools Louise

  The man smiled, and allowed himself to be escorted back into the living area. He squeezed into a spot on the floor, and leaned against the couch. “Thanks,” he said, his eyes a dark brown, his hair a shade darker, hanging loose to his shoulders. He wore a bandana around his head, which he pulled off and stuffed into the pocket of his leather jacket.

  Fly handed him the water, then prepared coffee for everyone. Just as he handed out cups for the newcomers, the doorbell rang for a second time.

  “I’ll get it,” Kaden said, and peered into the view screen, then let out a huge sigh of relief. “Baxter,” he said. “Thank god.”

  The man outside disappeared from view, and Noah glanced over to see Kaden’s angry snarl. “He’s injured,” he said.

  “Wait, it could be another trap,” Pace said, frowning. “Why would he show up here, and not your place? Let’s take it easy. Skull, you follow me. John, Ryder, Mick, I wouldn’t mind backup.”

  “We’ll help,” Slade said as they piled out of the apartment with three of his crew.

  “What’s going on?” Alfie said worriedly.

  “Trouble,” Fly replied with a similar look on his face.

  A few minutes later there was the sound of a siren, and they peered out of the window to see an ambulance pull up outside the building, and a tall, dark-haired man in tattered clothing, bruised and bloodied, was placed on a gurney, with Lex assisting, and then driven off to the hospital. The others came back inside.

  “Baxter collapsed before we could talk to him,” Kaden said grimly. “We’re heading over to the hospital to see what’s what.”

  “Let’s adjourn this until the morning,” Pace suggested. “Do you guys have anywhere to stay?”

  Slade shrugged. “We can head to the campground, if it’s still there?”

  “It is,” Joe said.

  “We have room available at the bed and breakfast,” Alfie said. “If you don’t mind sharing? On the house, until you get yourselves more permanent lodging.”

  “Thanks,” Slade said gratefully. “We can pay, though. No need to put yourselves to any trouble.” He reached into his jacket pocket, and handed a flyer to Pace. “You might want to take a look at this,” he said as the sheriff studied the leaflet. “We were handed this over in Nevada.”

  “They’re incredible,” Pace said, and it wasn’t in a complimentary way.

  He handed the paper to Ryder, who cursed.

  WANTED: Tough men and women who enjoy a good fight, everyone welcome. Take on our prize shifters, and win big. All abilities catered to. Cash prizes. You have to be in it to win. Call now to enter.

  There was a phone number provided, and the flyer had a picture of boxing gloves, a lot of dollar signs, and the picture of a prize fighter, hands raised in victory, standing over a prone shifter, claws and fangs revealed, but in human form.

  “These things are all over the place,” Slade revealed.

  “Dale was over in Nevada, a few months ago,” one of the bikers said grimly. “He had a job at a bar there, called the Cauldron or something. I tried to call him, several times, but no reply yet.”

  “This doesn’t sound good,” John said grimly, taking the flyer.

  “No,” Ryder agreed. “We need to know what and who these people are who are organizing the bouts. It could be perfectly innocent.” He didn’t sound sure.

  “Maybe one of us could apply,” Sketch suggested. “A human someone who knows how to bare-knuckle box.”

  “You’re not going,” Kaden retorted, scowling at his mate. “The last time you got involved with anything like this, you nearly died. Undercover ain’t your style, lover.”

  “We need to get someone in there,” Sketch protested, pouting.

  “Not you,” Kaden said. “They know you, anyway, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Sketch replied. “Maybe they’ve forgotten my business with Purdy?”

  “Doubtful,” David said, giving his mate a smooch. “Sketch isn’t someone you forget in a hurry, especially since he was so good at kicking their asses.”

  “Yeah, until I got busted,” Sketch growled irritably.

  “Listen, this is a discussion for tomorrow,” Pace said. “Get some rest and we’ll get an action plan together. These fighting contests are definitely worth checking out, but perhaps we don’t need to enter one, just visit as spectators.”

  “Good plan,” David cut in, getting to his feet and pulling Sketch and Skull up with him. “At least someone is thinking with their brains, and not their nuts.”

  Sketch lifted David onto his shoulder, smacking the man’s ass while he squealed in protest. “I’ll be going home, now, to show our gorgeous mate just how much fun it is, when nuts are involved.”

  He grinned, waved good-bye, and they left with Kaden, who sent an apologetic look to the sheriff.

  One by one the rest of the large group filed out of the apartment, until only Pace and Ryder were left.

  “We’ll figure something out,” Ryder said. “Flashpoint has to be put out of business.”

  “We put one bunch of nut jobs on the ropes, and we’ll keep doing it,” Noah said firmly. “These morons are going to trip themselves up, sooner or later.”

  “The Will and the Word thought they were too clever, if you remember,” Pace said. “We took them down, and we’ll do the same to Flashpoint, and their affiliates. With the Warriors Brigade now up and running, we’ll keep training recruits, and take the fight right back to the bastards who think we’re easy targets.”

  “It’ll be good to get some payback,” Fly said, yawning suddenly. “Sorry, it’s been a long day,” he said, blushing.

  “Get some rest,” Ryder grinned.

  “That wasn’t quite what we had in mind,” Noah drawled, shooing the men out. “Now scoot, my mate and I have things to do.”

  “We do?” Fly asked, yawning again. “I was thinking maybe a nap might be in order.”

  Noah closed the door after the sheriff and Ryder departed, then grabbed Fly in a fireman’s carry, and carted him off down the hall. Entering their bedroom, he threw his mate onto the mattress, stripped off both their clothes, then palmed his cock, grinning wickedly at Fly’s flushed face, golden eyes gleaming with lust.

  “Why don’t we go for a ride?” he asked, waggling his brows, and jumping onto the bed, landing on his back, his cock jutting proudly upward. “The cum train’s in the station.”

  Fly groaned, crawling over to him, and kissed him hungrily, fisting his cock and pumping Noah’s dick with firm, steady strokes.

  “Honey, I thought you’d never ask.”

  Sleep didn’t claim them until much later, and when Noah opened his eyes in the early morning, he smiled to himself. He’d never thought he had a chance with his little princess, Fly. A cheetah shifter who loved manicures and high fashion, and a bear shifter who was happy he had a shirt on his back. Cuddling his lover, he thanked whatever fates decreed such things, and snuggled into the warmth of his beautiful man. There was danger ahead, for sure, but as long as he had Fly, he wasn’t afraid. He’d take on the devil himself, if Fly was ever threatened. Just let Flashpoint try to tear them apart.

  Epilogue

  Sir Aaron Fielding studied the screen in front of him and smiled, saluting his latest win with a large shot of fine French brandy. He tilted his Cuban cigar, admiring the stream of fragrant smoke that rose lazily into the air, enjoying the comforts his lifestyle had brought him.

  The shifter who was shown on the screen, Finn, a big ex-biker and African lion shifter, was a powerful adversary, and difficult to break. Fielding was confident that he would break the freak. Nobody got the better of Sir Aaron Fielding, entrepreneur, sports promoter, and aristocrat extraordinaire. The biker was now unconscious after the latest interview had meant Fielding had upped the stakes, using a new toy he’d just bought, guaranteed to turn even the most stalwart hero into a sniveling coward. It was only a matter of time before the shifter gave up his friends.

  He recalled his las
t phone call with another contact in Wyoming. Ghost was proving a useful ally. An escape artist extraordinaire, his accomplice, Morag, was also sharp as a rapier. The pair had managed to avoid capture so far, so it was time for the pair to lay low for a while and continue running his latest business venture, the fighting rings. It was a shame they hadn’t managed to finish the job in Sage, but no matter. They were crucial to the success of his ventures in America. England was not big enough, but he still had huge plans for it.

  Fielding smiled. Soon he would own Sage. He would be the one to lead a new army. His army. At the heart of that bunch of half-breed savages that deserved nothing less than complete annihilation…after they’d all entertained him, and helped him fill his coffers. No sense wasting an opportunity to exploit the freakish bastards for a while longer.

  He reached forward, flicking a switch, and watched the view change. He observed his latest victim being thrown into a shallow grave before being buried beneath a mess of dirt and debris. He scowled. Those fox shifters were proving to be a nuisance. They bred prolifically, and were ruining his enterprise in England, an initiative that had taken years to perfect.

  He was a patient man, however, and would bide his time. No sense in letting all and sundry know what was going on. He had an empire to protect, and was not quite ready to cut and run. Not quite ready.

  Flicking off the computer as he heard a knock at the door, he rose to let in his young son, Arthur. The boy was a delight, the one thing in Fielding’s life that he treasured, except for his bank balance that is, and the private jet, of course. Arthur came leaping into the study, bouncing around energetically. Fielding felt tired just watching him, and smiled as the boy’s mother walked in.

  “Dorothy,” he said, kissing her on both cheeks, ignoring the tight look about her mouth, the fear in her eyes. “So good of you to join us, finally.”

  “Sir Aaron,” she responded curtly, the smile on her lips not reaching her dark brown eyes.

  “Shall we dine, now?” Fielding asked politely, and she nodded, taking her son’s hand, and they walked out again, with Fielding following closely behind, his hand at her waist. He had it all, now. Dorothy was the daughter of a business rival, a prize won after a particularly vicious game of hostile takeover. Arthur was not his flesh and blood, but Fielding was well aware that he was infertile. He would never produce his own sons, but Arthur would make a fine substitute. Fielding was looking forward to the boy learning everything there was to know about Fortress, in time. The boy was smart as a whip, and showed an aptitude for competition and sport. He’d be a wonderful addition to the ranks.

  Dorothy was smart, too. She knew that if she rocked the boat, she would suffer the same fate as her father and siblings. Fielding smiled again as his cellphone buzzed in his pocket and he read the message. London Calling. Bird in the coop. Awaiting instructions. Will observe and report back findings. Will hold back until further instructions received.

  Fielding grinned, and began whistling a jaunty tune. This should be fun. Sage were fighting back. Game on.

  THE END

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