by Gale Stanley
Urban Affairs 1
Undercover Lovers
Two undercover agents weave a web of deceit when they bed their target.
Undercover Were-agent Slade Wolfe works for the Department of Shifter Affairs. He's on special assignment to take down Jaxon Castle, a resistance leader. Slade's contact in New York is a human cop, Mike Donovan, who's hiding his real relationship with their target—he and Jaxon are lovers. When Slade beds Jaxon so he can plant his surveillance equipment, a jealous Mike freaks out.
Both agents suspect the charges have been trumped up by the Feds and they're reluctant to take Jaxon down, but the director of DSA is getting antsy and he orders Mike to kill his partner and frame Jaxon for the murder. Getting rid of his competition is tempting, but Mike can't kill an innocent man, even if it means he'll end up in DSA's crosshairs with his rival and his boyfriend.
Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Shape-shifter
Length: 36,501 words
UNDERCOVER LOVERS
Urban Affairs 1
Gale Stanley
MENAGE AMOUR
MANLOVE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour ManLove
UNDERCOVER LOVERS
Copyright © 2012 by Gale Stanley
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-785-5
First E-book Publication: June 2012
Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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UNDERCOVER LOVERS
Urban Affairs 1
GALE STANLEY
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
A spotlight came on, illuminating one end of the plywood stage, and a disembodied voice came over the loudspeaker. “Get ready to drool, men, because tonight we have a new dancer and he’s gonna turn up the heat. Here he is, for the first time on our stage, or any stage for that matter. Let’s hear it for Slade.” The crowd went wild and men started moving toward the platform to catch a scent of the newcomer.
Jaxon Castle took a seat at the bar, and Quinn slid a bottle of mineral water in front of him. Jax never drank anything stronger than water at his club. He knew what the other shifters called him behind his back—control freak. They didn’t mean it as a compliment. Jax preferred to think of himself as a detail-oriented manager. Things tended to go wrong if he didn’t attend to every detail himself, and he needed all his animal instincts functioning at their peak in case of trouble. That meant staying stone-cold sober.
The bartender leaned over to make himself heard over the noise. “Fresh meat, huh?”
“Yeah. All the way from Los Angeles.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“The same thing all the strays are doing,” Jaxon grunted. “Running from the law. Dogtown is turning into a fucking dog pound.”
“You don’t give them all jobs in your club. What’s so special about this one?”
Jaxon shrugged. “His timing was good. Korey didn’t show up today. The little prick left me high and dry, and on a Saturday night. Fucking unbelievable. Then this guy walks in, fresh off the bus, and looking for any kind of job, and a place to stay. I sent him over to Benjamin to see about renting an apartment and told him to come back tonight for an audition. I sure hope he’s good.”
“You didn’t check his credentials?” Quinn feigned a surprised look but couldn’t hold back his laughter.
“I didn’t want to scare him off.”
“He doesn’t look like he scares easy.”
It was true. With a six-foot-four, muscular frame and rugged features, the newcomer looked like he could hold his own. Jaxon took a big swallow from the bottle.
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it, boss. The men like a variety of inventory.” Quinn winked. “I know for a fact most of the guys would like to see you up on that stage.”
Jaxon choked and spewed water across the bar.
Quinn smirked and wiped his face with the back of an arm. “You all right, boss?”
“Fuck you.” Jaxon scowled at him, swiveled on his stool, and leaned his elbows back on the bar. He heard Quinn laughing behind him, but he focused on the stage. The men were more than curious about his private life, but the subject was strictly off-limits.
Not that he had much time for a life. The Kennel Club took up most of his waking hours. The club wasn’t fancy, but it was all his. The bar was here when he bought the place, dented and scarred like it had been through a war and almost as long as the room. Wood and leather stools lined the length, and there were also a number of tables scattered around the room. Between the bar and the stage there was a small dance floor and a side room with two pool tables and some dartboards. Jaxon’s office and apartment were upstairs. Downstairs there were private rooms where a wolf-shifter could take a fuck buddy if h
e got lucky.
Jax had added a few modern touches over the years. He’d put in a small kitchen where he served up a simple menu including burgers, hot dogs, and fries. But when he’d put up a stage and added a dancer, business had really taken off. It had been Korey’s idea. The young wolf needed a job, and jobs were scarce in this economy, especially for shifters. Humans didn’t hire Weres, and most shifters in Dogtown couldn’t afford to pay employees.
Korey was one hell of a dancer with a sexy little body that drew attention. He offered to work for tips, and his gig went so well that Jaxon hired him on the spot and paid him a small salary. It wasn’t like him to not show up, but Korey wouldn’t be the first kid to take off looking for greener pastures. Still, it would have been nice if he had given Jaxon some notice.
Yeah, the bar had grown since he took it over, and he had big ideas to make it even better, so it benefited him to hang around to make sure there’d be no trouble. If he wanted trouble he’d have stayed in his apartment in Chelsea where he had to hide his identity as a Were or deal with discrimination and hostility. He couldn’t wait to get out and live among his own kind. Shifters had been buying up abandoned properties for years and finally took over a blighted section of the city and rebranded the area as Dogtown. Any humans still living in the area had moved out when the wolves moved in. His people had started co-ops and businesses that catered to their own kind. They kept to themselves, satisfied to live a parallel, peaceful existence with humanity, and for the most part humanity stayed away from Dogtown.
So any trouble in Jaxon’s club was caused by the wolves themselves, and those kind of scuffles he could handle. The shifters were horndogs. Ingesting a little too much alcohol caused all those pent-up animal instincts to rise to the surface. It was the nature of the beast. Whoever said an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure hit it right on the nose. Hiring a big, beefy doorman helped a lot, but most dogfights broke out on the dance floor, so Jaxon had recruited a few enforcers and stationed them around the room, while he sat at the bar. The precautions had saved him from a mountain of trouble and a big loss of revenue. Maintaining a testosterone-friendly atmosphere was cheaper than paying for renovations every time somebody started a fight.
Finally, his dancer stepped into the light, and the shifter’s appearance brought a fresh round of cheers and applause. The animals are restless. I hoped they’re not disappointed. The man was packing, but a stripper needed more than a pretty face and a big dick. It didn’t hurt to be a flamboyant showman. Personality and people skills were a must if a performer expected good tips. Jaxon decided he’d reserve his opinion until the end of the performance.
Electronic music came over the loudspeaker. Whoops and wolf whistles accompanied Slade as he flipped his waves of black hair and strutted across the platform to the primal, erotic beat. His black leather pants encased his muscular thighs like a second skin. The spotlight followed him like an adoring puppy. So did every pair of eyes in the room.
Slade stopped center stage and flashed the crowd a wicked grin. Jaxon knew even a wolf’s keen sight couldn’t see past the blinding spotlight, but he could swear that smile was meant for him and his heart lurched. That was a mouth meant for sin. Jaxon pictured those full lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off until he popped. Where did that come from? Jaxon was not easily impressed, but this man was one sexy motherfucker. Slade’s intense amber eyes framed by long, black lashes peered out from a sculpted face with high cheekbones and an angular jaw. The wolf possessed a rugged masculinity that Jaxon found extremely appealing. The tight leathers hinted at a good-size package to go along with the shifter’s movie-star looks.
Slade started unbuttoning the white silk shirt, one button at a time. When he reached the last button, he grinned and pulled the edges of the shirt apart, revealing a hard chest with a patch of dark hair between chiseled pecs. His cinnamon-colored nipples begged to be squeezed and sucked.
Jaxon’s dick started pulsing to the beat of the music, and he started panting like a dog in heat. Damn wolf genes. Slade’s unique scent had captivated him the minute they met. It had been a long time since he’d felt like this, but he couldn’t deny the primal attraction between him and the other wolf. He never lost his cool, and he looked around, thankful the other shifters hadn’t noticed. They were as worked up as him, their eyes glued to the stage.
The beat picked up, and Slade took his shirt partway off a shoulder and covered it back up. Then he lowered the other side and covered up again, teasing his appreciative audience.
Jaxon’s gaze followed the dark treasure trail that disappeared under the man’s leather pants, and then he focused on the impressive bulge at Slade’s crotch. He glanced over at Quinn. The bartender was salivating, his hand rubbing his own bulge.
A wave of unreasonable jealousy ripped into Jaxon, surprising the hell out of him. All wolves were territorial, but this was crazy. He’d never experienced anything like it, even with his mate. Of course, Mike had never been the focus of a room full of randy wolves. Jaxon kept his human lover well hidden from the pack. He tamped down his testosterone-fueled emotions. This man was nothing more than a stray dog who’d come to him for a job.
Catcalls and screams of “take it off” filled the room, and finally Slade removed his shirt and let it slip to the floor. Then he turned his back and bent to pick it up.
The crowd went wild at the sight of Slade’s tight, firm ass positioned so temptingly in front of them. Jaxon was as mesmerized as all the others.
Slade finally straightened up and threw the shirt off to the side. His handsome face was flush with excitement, and his sweat-slick torso gleamed under the light. Jaxon’s tongue itched to lick the moisture from his chest.
Hands clasped behind his head, Slade rolled his hips in circles. This man bumping and grinding in time to the electronic music was completely confident in front of the crowd. Slade had told Jax he had never stripped before, but from the looks of it, he liked parading around in front of a mob of drooling shifters. He sure knew how to please his audience.
Jaxon drew in a breath when Slade’s fingers hooked in the waistband of his leather pants and inched them down. Then the shifter flashed another sinful grin and tugged the leather down a little lower, teasing the crowd with a glimpse of wiry pubic hair peeking over the waistband. The crowd screamed for more, and the scent of wolf pheromones and testosterone filled the room.
Slade slowly worked a zipper on his right pant leg. It came down inch by agonizing inch. Jaxon couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s leg. He had never been so turned on before. Slade started on the other leg, and Jaxon wanted a closer look. He had to force himself to stay seated.
Finally both zippers were down, and Slade spread his legs. The pants hung between them like a very long loincloth. Jaxon admired Slade’s muscular thighs, imagining what else hung between them. Slade turned his back to the audience and they went silent, anticipating what he’d do next. He didn’t disappoint, pulling on the snaps at his waistband so the pants fell to the floor. Slade bent over to retrieve them, shamelessly showing off his firm, round ass. The shifters howled, and hot blood coursed through Jaxon’s body, straight to his cock. His wolf clawed at his gut, wanting to rim this guy’s ass right here, right now. Suddenly, Slade turned face front, and Jaxon thought he might come in his pants just from looking at the man’s fully erect penis bobbing from a nest of dark curls.
Jaxon heard growling from the shifters around him and suddenly felt protective of the man on the stage. Cool it, Jaxon. Slade is a big boy. He can take care of himself. In fact, from the look of things, he’d probably be pissed if Jaxon interfered. Slade was crouched down on the stage giving the men an eyeful of his assets and collecting a small fortune in tips. The guy was hot as hell, and obviously in great demand. He’d have his choice of bed partners tonight. The thought sent a stab of something else through Jaxon’s body. Jealousy? His wolf liked a challenge. Completion was hardwired into his genes. He took a deep breath to control
it. Forget it, Jaxon. You have a boyfriend. He turned away to ask Quinn for a beer.
The bartender’s eyes were glued to the stage, and he was licking his lips.
“Quinn!”
“Yeah. Sorry, boss,” Quinn said sheepishly as he took Jaxon’s empty water bottle. “Can’t blame a guy for looking.”
No he couldn’t, but Quinn was on duty, and Jaxon frowned his displeasure. Shit, did every wolf in this room want to claim the new guy? Jaxon’s own inner wolf growled his displeasure and curled up in his gut to sulk. “Gimme a beer.”
Quinn threw him a funny look, but he set a bottle down in front of him. Jaxon picked it up, took a big swallow, and choked on it when two muscular arms circled him and two big hands planted themselves on the bar, trapping him in place. Slade’s scent overwhelmed him as the other wolf leaned over Jaxon’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Is the hired help allowed to have a drink with the boss?”
Jaxon’s cock leaked like a drippy faucet. There was no hiding his arousal from another wolf. “Quinn, get the man a drink,” he said gruffly. Jaxon looked at the man sitting next to him and tilted his head, indicating he wanted him to vacate the seat.
The shifter got up reluctantly and Slade, bare-chested but wearing his leather pants, took the stool. “I’ll have whatever the boss man is drinking,” he said to Quinn.
“Your shift is over, Slade. You don’t have to call me boss.”
“That’s a relief because I want to dance with you, and I was pretty sure it would be a mistake to flirt with my employer.”
