“Copper said that?” The big guy with the oversized gut asked with a grunt.
“Yep. He knows what he’s talking about too. Smart man. He said not to worry, so I’m not.” The storyteller nodded.
Copper? Rick filed the name away as someone he needed to speak to. If anyone would know about the killings, it would be the conservation agent.
Upon finishing his drink, Rick folded up his newspaper, left a couple of bills on the table, and walked out. Maybe, if his luck held, he could find Copper this afternoon.
* * * *
Copper looked up from his desk and scented the air. Wolf shifter. The tantalizing aroma of musk captured his attention and set his groin to tightening. Odd, considering he rarely reacted so quickly to anyone, no matter the species.
A rap announced the newcomer’s presence.
“Come in.”
A tall, powerfully built guy with collar-length blond hair stepped into the room. A square jaw told of stubbornness, yet his handsome face revealed curiosity and determination. His shirt covered a wide chest and narrow waist while blue jeans outlined his lower assets, adding to the eye candy. The whole package shouted contained power wrapped up in a mouth-watering body. A sharp blue gaze met his while the visitor lifted his nose and sniffed.
Now this was one shifter he could play with—spend a few days doing nothing but savoring one another’s naked bodies. Watch as the man wrapped those full lips around his throbbing cock, sucking him deep…
Copper wrestled with his suddenly raging libido. He couldn’t recall wanting a stranger so quickly upon meeting them. Either he’d lost his marbles or the pressure of trying to solve this case was eating at him more than he realized. Either way, no sense getting himself all worked up if the wolf wasn’t interested. Besides, he had a killer running amok, making him the priority.
“Can I help you?”
The man’s lips pulled back, showing a flash of fangs, not in a threat, but more as a way of snatching pheromones out of the air and pulling them in for closer inspection.
A slow grin appeared on his face. “I think so.”
Reading between the lines, Copper put a tight lock on his rampaging desires. He had more than enough problems with a handful of dead humans, a rogue shifter on the loose, and a few idiotic juvenile shifters joining him to create a powerful pack of killers. As much as he wanted to jump in the sack and release some tension, he didn’t have the luxury right now.
Disappointment turned his tone harsh. “What do you want? I’m busy, if you haven’t noticed.”
The blond took the seat in front of his desk. “I’m here to investigate some rumors.” After stretching out his long legs, he crossed his feet at the ankles and twiddled his fingers in his lap, appearing totally relaxed. Copper’s trained eye told him differently.
“Of?”
“A rogue, presumably recruiting young shifters to join his deadly cause.”
“And what makes you think I know about this?”
“Local town gossip and my nose.” Sex on a stick rested his hands on the rails of the chair.
“Who sent you?” Copper, though suspicious, heard truth in the man’s words.
“Wolf Pack Council.”
“Prove it.”
“I’m Rick, by the way.” Rick pulled out his wallet and flashed a badge with the emblem of howling wolves stamped on the front. Closing the leather, he shoved the item back into his pocket.
Copper released a long sigh. If the top brass shifters were involved, all hell was about to break loose.
“Great. Just fucking great.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. All he needed was more bothersome agents running around and interfering in his assignment. “The Pride is taking care of it. Their territory. Their case.” He bit off the words.
The corner of Rick’s mouth hitched upward, making him appear seemingly amused at his sharp tone.
“Obviously, the Wolf Council begs to differ.”
“Begs?”
Rick shrugged, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Just a phrase.”
“Uh huh.”
A quick chuckle, deep and full, caught Copper unawares. The sound not only encouraged him to join in the fun, but sent a shot of need straight to his already interested libido. Something about this particular shifter snared his attention and compelled him to explore further.
“What can you tell me about the case?” Rick asked.
On the flipside, he could use some help. So far, his clues were few and the puzzle pieces many. “There’s a rogue hiding out in the territory. We’ve seen an influx of youths as well. Whether they’re joining up is hard to tell. Surely, some are. At the moment, we know of four victims, all with the same MO. All carried a heavy smell of shifters on them, though they were human, which tells me someone is picking out and leading a killing hunt. Instead of using rabbits, they’re culling humans.”
“Are wolf shifters responsible?”
Copper met Rick’s gaze steadily. “Almost entirely wolves, by the scents I picked up.”
Rick nodded. “Figured. Put borderline wolves together, and you get a troublesome and sometimes deadly mess.”
“It appears so.”
“My partner, Dillon, and I have the task of eradicating this rogue and keeping the whole situation hush-hush.”
“Partner?”
A wry smile lit up Rick’s face. “Partner. Lover. Mate.”
“Oh.” Copper’s enthusiasm plummeted. The stud before him already had a mate, which put him off limits. Damn it, anyway. He accepted reality, yet his cock continued to twitch. The regulation green jeans of his conservation uniform constricted his quickly growing erection to the point of pressured discomfort.
Rick peeked at his watch. “He should be done checking out one of the bars soon. Want to come back to our hotel room? We can discuss this matter in private.” With an infectious grin, he tilted his head toward the door in invitation.
Copper didn’t miss the raking appraisal or the flash of interest in Rick’s eyes—all a trip down a dead end road. Copper nearly groaned with the offhanded offer. If Rick wasn’t mated… His rotten luck.
“Might as well. Sitting around here isn’t accomplishing anything, other than my ass growing numb. Let me gather up a few things first.”
Hearty laughter carried over to him. Rick shook his head and grinned wide enough for his fangs to show. “Go for it. I just ate, but I imagine you and Dillon will be hungry. We can order in food while we work.”
“Sounds good.”
Copper shuffled papers and cursed his demanding cock. He would meet up with the wolf pair, share information and determine a plan of action. End of story. Period.
Chapter Four
“Whatcha having?”
The baritone voice pulled Dillon’s attention to the right and away from the room dotted with a mixture of shifters of all varieties. Each one seemed to be partaking of a drink or three before returning to their regularly scheduled lives. If anyone recognized or had issues with them, he couldn’t detect a change in body language, posture, or the muted conversation.
With a sense of relief, he slipped onto the corner bar stool, his back to the wall where he could watch the room at all times. “Beer. Bottled.”
The gray-haired bartender snorted, turned, and pulled a bottle of beer from a small refrigerator behind him. His grizzled features spoke of a long life while lines of wisdom formed deep crags in his otherwise stoic face. His scent marked him as a bear—a black variety, most likely.
Dillon slapped down a couple of bills, twisted the cap off then took a sip. Any other time, he might have sampled the higher content alcoholic concoctions, but never while on a mission. He needed a clear head in order to hunt his prey and survive any threats which could crop up during the assignment.
Two days ago, he’d obtained the first lead on tracking down the rogue responsible for recruiting young shifters to his slowly growing group. Unfortunately, the freshly torn apart human victim had set off a loud alarm for the
packs, sending them into emergency mode and putting him on a hunt to destroy the shifter responsible. Backtracking every whisper and scent since, he’d landed in a small mountain community that seemed to contain more than its fair share of shifters.
“You’re not from here,” the old man whispered, loud enough for Dillon’s sensitive ears to pick up.
“Why do you say that?” He met the bartender’s black eyes.
“Very few wolves around these days. They mostly keep to themselves.”
“Mostly?”
He wiped at the shiny bar, checked out the room, then leaned in. “Lately, there’s been a handful show up. Far from their home turf.”
“Interesting. Wonder why they’re here?”
“Don’t rightly know.” The man clammed up.
Dillon tapped into his patience. “Juveniles have always rushed out into the world, believing there’s something better while finding their independence. Almost all return back to their packs in due time.”
“Not this time.” He stared at Dillon for a long moment. “That’s why you’re here? Searching for your pack mates?”
For a split second, Dillon considered agreeing with the man’s words. His inner wolf growled in warning. Heeding the alert, he chose a different tact. “Not really. Tired of antiquated pack politics and an alpha dictator who’s dumber than a rock. Figured it was time to move on, find a new territory, maybe start my own pack somewhere else.”
“Little old for sowing wild oats, aren’t ya?”
Dillon shrugged. “I’m not in my dotage yet.”
A pair of young males stepped through the door, walking directly toward the pool table in the back of the room. Both wore jeans and long-sleeved shirts, had short brown hair, one darker than the other. They walked with arrogance, heads held high and an expression that dared anyone to mess with them. While over six feet tall, they lacked the thicker muscle that came with age and experience, another sign of youth in a normally long-lived shifter species.
Dillon’s radar pinged loudly. He recognized these two—troublemakers from the Rocky Patch Pack. Although he’d never run into them before, he’d seen enough pictures and heard plenty of stories of their exploits. Though young, they seemed determined to make a mark on the earth, even if their antics cut short their lives—rebels without a cause on the wrong side of the law.
Standing, he grabbed his beer and headed toward the shadowed areas of the moderate-sized room. Other males glanced his way but quickly returned to their own business as if considering him less than a threat. All the better. Last thing he needed was a nosey parker to draw attention to him while he tried to fly under the radar.
He moved to an empty corner table so that he could easily overhear any conversation between the two young men.
An hour later, he stood, stretched, and left his nearly full bottle sitting on the table. Long strides carried him to the exit, where he entered into the crisp night air.
Dumb asses.
The youths had drunk a little, bragged quite a bit, played two games of pool then left for parts unknown. As much as he wanted to trail them, he chose caution. If they became antsy or nervous, they’d certainly run to the developing group, spill their concerns to the leader and all hell would break loose as they converged on him and any others sent to investigate and destroy.
After jumping into his old beat-up truck, Dillon headed toward the main highway, ramped up the speed, and didn’t stop until he reached Winter Gulch, a bigger commercial center and tourist destination with plenty of shopping in the beautiful mountains of Colorado. He parked the truck, locked the doors then took the steps to his hotel room two at a time, more than eager to meet up with Rick.
Standing at the entrance, he sniffed deeply and frowned. Another scent wafted from the small room along with Rick’s. Feline. Dillon shoved the key in the lock, opened the door, slipped in, and automatically shut it behind him. Spinning around, he raked the newcomer up and down, noting the tawny short hair, chiseled chin, high cheekbones and deep amber eyes. He appeared solidly built, filling out his shirt and pants with thick muscle, easily noticed in the snug fitting conservation uniform. The olive green would wash out most people, but blended nicely with the reddish-brown hair and amber eyes of the lion, making him appear all the more appetizing. Standing just an inch or two shorter than him and Rick, the kitty caught his attention. Though carrying heavy mass, the cat looked more than fit. He’d wager little fat could be found on him, despite the man’s immense size.
“Dillon. This is Copper.”
Dillon narrowed his eyes. “Feline.” The word snapped out from his clenched teeth.
Copper’s eyebrow shot up. “Spoken like a true canine.”
Rick chuckled. “Alpha tendencies and all that.” He waved his hand dismissively.
“Uh huh. Sounds like arrogance mixed with blind stereotype to me.” The lion tossed out a fast ball in response to Dillon’s less than pleasant greeting. Copper glared and lifted his chin in a gesture of feline haughtiness.
Dillon bristled and growled low in his throat. How dare he invade this room and take such an attitude with him? Fucking cat. Offended, he widened his stance, flexed his shoulders, and prepared for a physical takedown of the cocky kitty.
Rick jumped between the two, turning his attention from one to the other. “Stop it. Both of you. We’re on the same team.”
“We are?” Dillon clenched his fists, wanting more than anything to grab the cat by the neck and hurl him out of the window. So they were on the third floor. Cats always landed on their feet, right?
Rick shook his head. “Copper is from the local lion pride and is the conservation agent for this area.”
“And?” Dillon asked. He watched the feline with a practiced eye, not letting his attention drift for a split second. Shifting his weight, he readied himself for an outright attack. Years of holding an alpha position within the pack had taught him important lessons in survival—always know where his enemies are and never turn his back on someone he didn’t trust. More than one alpha had died with a look of surprise on their face when a high-ranking pack member decided to make their bid for supreme control.
“We got to talking about the case. They’re seeing an unusual amount of shifter activity and building trouble with humans,” Rick rambled on, his calm tone a contrast to the tangible tension in the room.
Copper’s gaze met Dillon’s and refused to yield. “I’m investigating what’s going on, trying to find out who’s behind this mess and bring the person responsible to justice.” The lion answered in a bored, dismissive tone, obviously not intimidated by Dillon’s presence or questions. His eyes flashed as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared.
“And the followers?” Dillon mirrored Copper’s motion. His inner wolf howled and panted with sexual longing, demanding Dillon grab the tawny lion shifter, bend him over the table, and surge for home. Grappling with the beast’s needs, Dillon set his back teeth and ignored the frustrated inner clamoring. Why the lion whetted his arousal, he didn’t know. As much as Copper ignited his temper, he also tapped into the very core and basis of Dillon’s passionate desires. Ignoring his beast, he wrestled with his control, finally winning out when he heard the lion’s next words.
“To be destroyed, punished or exiled. However the lion council decides to deal with them. It’s their territory after all.” Copper shrugged, as if the others were no big issue.
“Fuck that.” Dillon surged forward, bumping into Rick in the process. “Have you eaten too much catnip today? Leaving the rest to their own devices, or even exile, is damn stupid. Chop the head off and another will take its place.”
“Yes, but I’m sure their ruling council knows this, Dil. The important thing is we work together to track down the problem fast. By combining forces, we can solve this expediently and maybe save some lives along the way.” Rick’s blue eyes snapped as he held a hand to Dillon’s chest.
Always the peacemaker. Dillon gazed at Rick then glanced down at the lar
ge hand resting on his sternum.
“Fine.” With a long blown-out breath, Dillon backed off—just for the time being. Until he rounded up those responsible and personally sent them to Hell.
The lion shrugged, his amber gaze never leaving Dillon. “Not like this is a walk in the park for me, either.”
Rick rolled his eyes. “Just great. Here I thought this was a good idea to team up, help one another out, track down our target easier. Instead, I get two posturing shifters nearly at one another’s throats from minute one. Lucky me.”
Dillon reached out, grabbed Rick around the waist, and tugged him in for a quick kiss. He could have smirked at his mate’s put-upon tone. “That’s what happens when you bring another alpha home, love.”
Rick glanced at Dillon then twisted to stare at Copper before sighing heavily. “When did I land in Hell?”
Dillon chuckled. Copper’s lips twitched.
“Truce?” Copper offered a hand.
Dillon hesitated only a second before shaking. “Truce. For now.”
Chapter Five
Pitching the remains of their meal into the trash can, Dillon took a moment to study the lion alpha presently spreading out a large map over the dining table of the small, apartment-style hotel room. Copper’s strong hands pushed the corners outward then set an empty glass on either edge to hold the paper in place. As he stretched, his snug green pants molded to his rear, outlining a well-built, scrumptious backside, begging to be explored with mouth, tongue and dick.
Dillon’s cock began to fill, his arousal fast blossoming, while throbbing at the tight enclosure of his own jeans.
Rick glanced over his shoulder, gazed at Dillon’s crotch then tilted his head in question. The corner of his mouth hitched upward in a sign of amusement.
Leave it to his long-time lover to sense his reaction to the lion.
In his other dealings with shifters, those of his own kind as well as other varieties, he’d never felt an immediate sexual response like this. While some might have marginally piqued his interest, no one had garnered the fast and hard physical response this cat did. Why now? Not only did he have a potentially deadly rogue to find and stop, but Rick stood in the same room, already in tune to his physical response. The timing couldn’t be worse.
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