KIKO (MC Bear Mates Book 3)

by Becca Fanning

  Feeling guilty because the Prez’s mate really did look stressed out, she tried to make amends. “I have a lot of experience with administrative tasks. I'm sure I could help with the transition.”

  Annette peered out from between her closed hands. “We're going to need all the help we can get, so it's great to have you on our side. I have most things under control, but it's actually the admin stuff you can help with. I never was great at being organized.”

  “Then it's your lucky day.” Mischa added, “Just put me where you need me.”

  “We'll have to sort out a desk for you, but at the moment, you need to be behind this desk. Mars has been buying out local garages and workshops. When we stop running drugs and guns,” she said that like the MC was running talcum powder and toy cars, “We're going to need a steadier source of income for all the brothers. Most of them have more experience in their pinky fingers than a lot of human mechanics have in twenty years of experience on the job, so it's a natural jump to go into that trade. Plus, at least it's something they all seem to enjoy, and I'm all for employee satisfaction. On top of that, it's decent money, but more importantly it puts brothers with humans more.”

  “What do you mean? Why's that important?”

  Annette shot her a glance. “What are you to Kiko?”

  “His mate?”

  “Exactly, Mischa. You're his mate. And that's all these guys want too, their mates. None of the brothers seemed to realize how isolated their lives actually are. I mean, it's not like they're in touch with a lot of chicks, is it? How the fuck are they supposed to meet their other halves if they only deal with dudes? I mean, it makes no sense.”

  “No, I guess it doesn't.”

  “What do you mean you guess? Isn't it obvious? Jesus, I keep arguing about this shit with Mars. It’s why he had such a sulk on this morning. I swear, just because they're bears doesn't mean they're not brats at heart. They always want their own freaking way, and in this, I’m trying to give them what they want most!”

  “Some of the brothers told me about your argument and makeup sex this morning,” Mischa murmured, unable to hide her grin. It wasn’t political to make such a disclosure, but when Annette just rolled her eyes, she sensed how open the other woman was. Mischa liked that. She’d always been blunt by nature, so having someone around who was the same worked out perfectly.

  “Look,” Annette gritted out. “the only people these guys deal with are other gangs and clubs. It's very rare that those types of business associates let their women wrap up business, which means the guys never come into contact with women.

  “I mean, don't you think it's funny how they suddenly get mates when they came out of their usual circles? Isn't that proof enough? How can they meet their mate when they’re around no women save for the bunnies they already know aren't their mates.

  “Mars is determined that this transition to the good side of the tracks is going to culminate in violence, but I disagree. Present a couple hundred men who have suddenly come face to face with three brothers who have found their mates, and that's all that is really on their mind. Sure, they might try to stir up shit, they're still partway human. But if you rectify the jealousy and then give them a means of potentially finding what they consider… Match made in heaven, I think.”

  “You're right. They've arranged these challenges, but I mean, it's only going to resolve part of the problem. I suppose they're all scared about what the future holds, as well as—you're right—jealous.”

  Annette nodded. “It takes a woman to understand. I mean, the checkbook here is pretty much open. They've been operating in the red since the Prez before Jefferson passed away, but our guys are rich, Mischa. Mars has pretty much given me free reign with this because he doesn't think it will work, but it keeps me off his back as well as fully occupied. But I want to show him, Mischa. I want these guys to stop looking at me like I’m hope reincarnate. It's horrible.

  “I mean, at first, it was nice. But after a while, you see they're all desperate, and I like these guys. Behind the cuts and the patches, they're totally decent men who deserve the happiness of finding their mates.”

  Annette’s sincerity touched Mischa, because in her time here—she couldn't lie—they'd treated her and the rest of the women they'd saved from the cartel like they were precious stones. Some were aggressive but never around the women. Even the ‘dicks’ as Kiko called them, Logann and his cronies—the men so insistent on rupturing the peace in the MC—had always been kind and respectful toward her.

  If they could help them find their mates, they’d be too busy with them to cause trouble. It was actually a rather neat solution, and Mischa respected Annette all the more for it.

  These guys were half-beast. Not simply animals, but predators. They were aggressive, used to thinking with their penises, and not used to a softer touch. But you caught more flies with honey, and men never seemed to understand that.

  With that thought in mind, she murmured, “I think this place has been managed by men for far too long.”

  Annette grinned, and Mischa could do no less than share in what could only be described as a conspiratorial smile, the likes of which would have The Nomads’ MC quivering in their cuts if they were aware of it.

  Chapter Nine

  Two weeks later

  “If you have something to say, then say it loud and clear so we can all hear.”

  Kiko winced when Mars’s voice boomed out around the rec room. Jesus, the man had a pair of lungs on him—enough to bring an eighty-strong crowd to a standstill.

  Slowly but surely, the frozen tableau started to melt, and brothers turned around to face the voice. They knew who had spoken. Mars’s accent was a unique blend of North and South which created a funky-ass mix that was unique to the man himself. On top of that, his tone had boomed with the power of the Clan.

  Though the books would have most humans believe differently, the leaders of Shifter Clans or Packs didn’t have some inherent power that made them Alpha. They had the power the Clan gave them. That was all. No freaky gifts that had the men shaking in their boots. Just the strength to lead, which was acknowledged and accepted by all.

  Mars’s words hadn’t been aimless. They’d been focused on the table twenty feet away where Logann and his cronies were sitting. Shoulders hunched, heads knocking together as they drank from half-empty bottles of beer, voices low enough to not catch every word but to discern the most important ones… they were plotting.

  Right in front of their leaders’ fucking noses.

  The nerve of it had him shaking his head, but Mars had had enough. He’d been in a weird mood all day, on edge about some shit or another that he wasn’t sharing. Mischa hadn’t said anything about Annette acting funny though, and she should know. Now that the two women were working together and had been for the past five or so days, they were pretty much in each other’s pockets day in, day out. Mischa would have told him if things were okay on that front.

  At least, he figured they would.

  Ever since the Claiming, they hadn’t been as close as he’d have liked.

  There was a reason brothers were given time after they found their mate. Because it was necessary to cultivate the bond. And though it wasn’t like he and Mischa were strangers—they’d known each other for quite a while after her rescue from the cartel—that time was imperative and unavailable to him thank to the shit going down in the MC.

  The reminder had him growling, a sound controlled by his Bear and not himself. The Bear was pissed enough to get vocal. Jeez. But it worked, because Logann, the one with his back to Mars and the only brother not to turn and face him, finally turned around to stare Mars down.

  “You got a problem with me?”

  “No, it’s you who’s spreading shit,” Justiss snarled, pushing a hand into Mars’s chest to hold him back as he leapt up to stand. “All this bullshit about how Jefferson was the greatest fucking thing since sliced bread. That’s why he’s dead, huh? Why Mars killed him? Because he
was so fucking great.”

  “It was his lucky day,” Logann sneered, getting up and kicking his stool away.

  A hush settled over the crowd when he flexed his fists, and the sweet smell of blood hit the air as his claws came out to play. It might not have seemed like it, but it was an act of aggression. The blood was a trigger the Council needed, and If Justiss could play it the way they needed it go, a challenge. Two weeks of planning had to be worth something, right?

  “I’ve heard about the crap you’ve been spouting, Logann. But it’s the first time you’ve done it within earshot,” Mars rumbled, pushing off Justiss’s restraining hand and getting to his feet. Planting his palms on the table, he continued, “Funny how you don’t have the balls to come to me about it though. What are you scared of? Ending up where Jefferson did?”

  Logann was six-six, one of the tallest in the MC, but he was skinny. Well, skinny in comparison to the rest of them. In a fight, he and Mars would be no contest. Logann didn’t stand a chance against Justiss either. The dick didn’t realize that though, and he strode forward, shoving tables out of the way, knocking chairs as he cleared himself a path. Either it was pride that was making him come forward for his ass beating, or just self-righteousness. Kiko didn’t know. Regardless, the jackass didn’t know when to back down. Never had. Never would if Justiss could finish this the way it needed to end.

  “You’re a fucking cheat, that’s what. And you’re lucky the Goddesses granted you with a mate before you butchered Jefferson. After, they’d have taken her from you for being such a fucking coward.”

  Mars let out a roar, but Justiss’s claws came out first. They pricked into Mars’s chest, the razor sharp tips eating up the cotton wife beater he wore. “You dishonor the president, Logann.”

  “He’s no president of mine,” came the snarled retort.

  “You’ll fucking take that back or I’ll see you out in the yard, and we can decide who’s the real pansy out there.”

  At Justiss’s words, Logann stiffened. “He’s got you doing his dirty work, has he? Pansy?”

  Major, who for once was around the clubhouse, sneered, “He’s mated. You know the rules are different, Logann. Whether you like it or not.”

  “Fuck honor, man,” Mundo inserted, jumping to his feet too. “That SOB has been dissing you for years, J. You should slit his throat for that, never mind this shit with Mars. How many times is he gonna call you a pansy before you show this bastard what you’re made of?”

  J smirked. “Logann’s about to find out what this pansy’s mettle’s worth.”

  Logann clenched his jaw. “I never had a problem with you. My beef is with Mars, and you know it. Stop playing this shit the way the Council wants it to go.”

  “Fuck you. Bitching behind my back like a bunny. All these years licking Jefferson’s ass and getting away with it… spreading shit about me like it meant nothing. I should have challenged you years ago. Mundo’s right.”

  “My fight is with Mars,” Logann roared, slamming his hands into the table with enough force to have it tilting up and over. He used the distraction to leap forward, ramming himself into Mars, but before he could connect, Justiss was there.

  “Your fight is with the MC, and I’m Mars’s foot soldier,” J snarled, sending his fist flying into Logann’s jaw. As the bastard’s head flew back, he grabbed him by the back of the neck and frog marched him toward the doors that led onto the terrace. Once they were outside, J shifted. He’d always been quick as hell, and Logann, still dazed from the unexpected punch, was sluggish to respond. But J, fair as ever, waited until the other man took a good thirty seconds to change.

  When the two Bears were roaming around the yard, most of the brothers stormed outside to watch. Mars hadn’t gone to the rec room with the intention of a challenge being fought today, but when Logann’s bullshit had gotten louder, managing to surpass the conversational hum of a space loaded with loud men, the Prez had called the stupid shit out.

  Did he but know it, he’d played into the Council’s hands.

  Kiko rested his shoulder against the outer wall of the clubhouse and watched the fight go down.

  He hated challenges, always had. He fought them when he had to, had taken part in too many for his liking, but now he was mated, and it was likely he’d never have to fight in one again unless it was for Mischa’s honor.

  Unlike his brothers, who responded with bloodthirsty cheer to the battle going on before him, Kiko stayed back and watched as Justiss systematically destroyed Logann—a slice of the claws to the tendons at his groin, bites to his throat that nearly pulled Logann’s head off. Destruction here, there, and everywhere as Justiss played with his meal before dinner was even ready to start eating.

  The stench of bear filled the yard, the sweat and blood mixing with the hormones all the Shifters were exuding in response to the fight. Even though he didn’t like it, but was aware of the necessity of challenges in a society of predominantly men. Kiko felt the pull of his Bear in reaction to the violence going on before him. He hated it, tried to reign it in, but when Logann managed to swipe Justiss’s snout, blood spouted out everywhere like a fountain with scarlet-dyed water, and the roar escaped Kiko before he could contain it.

  The noise was loud enough to quell the chants and cheers from his brothers, and it was testament to the fact that last night, he’d had a fucking nightmare—one of the first he’d had since he’d claimed Mischa. His head was messed up, and the last thing he needed was the chaos of a challenge, but the Bear didn’t understand that as well as he did.

  Truth was, the roar distracted both competitors. Logann took advantage of the distraction to shift back, forcing Justiss to do the same. Though Logann was tall, he was a skinny fucker—fast, lean, but not strong. Unlike Justiss, who was built like an MMA fighter.

  Logann managed to side swipe him with a roundhouse kick that had Justiss’s head snapping back, but J plowed on with a punch to the nose. Because of the strength behind that hit, Logann staggered and stumbled to his knees. The bony joints collided with the dirt, making mud rain up and over him, splattering his nakedness with the filth from the messed-up yard. He grabbed his nose, howling as blood spurted, but he didn’t have long to holler because Justiss was behind him. J had shaken off the after effects of the kick and managed to get his arm around Logann’s throat.

  Kiko felt his own Bear respond to that move. One of the scientists had used that method to knock him out a time or two, pressing down on the carotid artery to make him pass out when the drugs they’d fed him hadn’t worked.

  His Bear railed at the sight before him, but he had to keep on watching, had to know what happened, and had to be seen to be unafraid of the scene unravelling ahead of him. The men couldn’t know his Bear hated what was happening. They’d think he was chicken shit, and actually, it had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with post-traumatic fucking stress.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, he watched as J squeezed the life out of Logann. Unlike the guards and doctors who had been assigned to test him, J had no orders to keep him alive. If anything, death was on his to do list.

  As the life flooded from Logann’s body, the atmosphere in the crowd turned somber. Logann ceased flailing, his arms and legs stopping their panicked jerks, and his gulps for air became a death rattle that sent shudders up and down Kiko’s spine.

  When he took his last breath, the last shouts had died down to harried mumblings, and Kiko looked around, curious as to his brothers’ reactions.

  They’d turned against Justiss when Jefferson had maligned him. Even when Mars had proven their old Prez was a cheating, lying scum, they’d never changed their opinions of Justiss. And yet, when the current Prez had been dishonored, it had been J who had leapt to his defense.

  Kiko knew that would count for something. He was not only banking on it, but he was hoping he was right. Justiss had never deserved to be cast out. The MC had treated him like shit, and it was about time the man earned a break.

&nb
sp; J released Logann’s corpse, letting it fall into the mud with a splash. It was a disgusting sound, one that had Kiko grimacing, but he stepped forward toward the dead body. He joined Mars, who also approached the battleground, knowing this was the moment when the leaders of the MC had to show change was coming and that it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.