The Runaway Cat (Book 2 Cloverleah Pack Series)

by Oliver, Lisa

  Shaking his head, Griff said, “No he doesn’t have a problem with wolves or anything like that.” Griff could feel his cheeks flushing. “He liked me enough to claim me even though I was drunk and didn’t know about it at the time.”

  Kane laughed. “You were drunk and didn’t know you met your mate. Oh Griff that’s a classic. You thought he was a hook up? What’s the problem? Just go and find him and bring him back man.”

  “Well I plan to in a way but look there’s more.” Griff outlined who Diablo was and what had happened the morning after the meeting at Claude’s, right up to the conversation he had with Tony that morning.

  “So you are going to get him? That’s good. He belongs here with our pack. What do you need from us?” Kane’s quiet and confident voice hit Griff like a breath of fresh air.

  Griff thanked all that was holy that Kane understood, wasn’t angry for Griff not talking about this sooner and wanted to help. It was more than a pack thing - these guys were his family.

  “I am going to be using agency resources to get in there. But I am real worried about once I get Diablo alone. I haven’t told him about my agency involvement yet and he could be a bit annoyed with my plan to get him out. I want to get him back to my place but the travel aspect could be a problem especially if Diablo is angry and his mark is actively looking for him.” Griff looked at Shawn. “Is there any way you can help with this?”

  Shawn thought for a moment. “The only problem I can see is that I don’t have Diablo’s scent. I presume that is his bike I am working on because I smelt cat shifter on there, but the scent is very faint especially with all of us having been over the thing at least once since it got here.”

  He was quiet again for a moment and then Shawn’s face brightened. “Okay here is what I can do. You will need to be holding Diablo pretty tight when you contact me. I can zap you and the immediate area in front of you to account for a second person back to your place. If you can’t do that, then let me know to zap you to me with something that smells of Diablo and I will have to get him separately. How shitty do you think he is going to be with you?”

  Griff grinned. “With what I plan to do, pretty pissed I reckon. But I have got to do it.”

  “Okay, well I will make sure I have my phone handy for tomorrow night and we will act as soon as we hear from you.” Kane looked at Shawn. “I will try not to get too distracted.”

  Shawn hit him again. “This is important you oaf, you can afford to keep your hands to yourself for a few hours.” Kane grinned at Shawn and stroked his face. Turning back to Griff he pulled him into a hug, clapping him on the back as he did.

  “We’ve got your back Griff. Go get your mate.”

  Hugging Kane back and then Shawn Griff picked up his bag and headed out the door.

  Kane’s laughing voice followed him. “You know getting claimed by your mate while you’re drunk in a BDSM club sounds so much like you my friend.”

  Griff grinned and flicked Kane a two fingered salute as he walked out the door, hearing Kane and Shawn’s laughter as he went. Catching the shocked glances of the other men in the workshop who would have heard Kane’s comment, he knew he was going to be in for a bit of flack when they did get to meet Diablo. Laughing to himself Griff took off for the airport.

  Chapter Seven

  Diablo was fighting his initial determination to go to Georgio’s party. He really, really missed Griff. Although he hadn’t admitted it to his mate, he was a bit worried that Georgio could take the personal situation between them too far. He was known to use cuffs and chains with his boys on occasions and although Diablo hadn’t been involved in any scenes like that, if Georgio was pig headed enough to really want to claim his ass then he might use restraints. Diablo chuffed to himself. Fuck the man would have to use restraints to get near him and even then Diablo could get free.

  But he would have to shift to do it and that is not something he really wanted to do in front of his mark. Once the man was arrested he didn’t want Georgio spouting off about how some guy he was trying to fuck turned into a black panther to get out restraints. If Diablo shifted he knew it would have to be the very last resort and if that happened he would probably have to kill Georgio. He didn’t have any doubts that he could do it, but killing didn’t come easily to him even if it was a human slime ball like Georgio.

  The only redeeming feature about the whole night was that as soon as he could get away - and he would get away he was determined enough on that part - then he was going home to Griff. He had accessed the DMV and Social Security records the day before and learned Griff’s address and the fact that he worked for a place called Custom Rides in Cloverleah. As soon as he left the club, Diablo planned to take a cab to the airport, taking the first flight to Tulsa. He could swing by Claude’s and pick up his bike and then ride straight through to Griff’s. He would avoid answering his phone until his resignation date came in force and the whole FBI could go to hell. With any luck he would be too busy fucking and getting fucked to worry about anything else.

  Diablo thought back to the care and concern Griff had shown him through their mind link on the Thursday night and in particular the picture that Griff had left with him as he went to sleep. The thought of the two of them together in that huge bed, with Griff’s arms tight around him made his cock hard and filled him with a sense of peace all at the same time. Diablo hadn’t realized just how difficult the two men’s ten day long separation had been on him and his feeling of needing to be held and then fucked and claimed got higher. He allowed himself to wallow in the feeling for a moment before shaking his head. His cock was throbbing in his tight leather pants and he had to thump it to get it to go down a bit.

  Okay no more thinking about Griff until the end of the evening, Diablo told himself as he checked himself out in the mirror. In light of Georgio’s instructions Diablo had opted for a skin tight sleeveless muscle shirt that covered him, but that showed off his chest and abs through the thin shiny black fabric. Tucking the shirt carefully into his leather pants he checked his ass out in the mirror. Yep. No unsightly lines. Just pure ass and long leg muscles that ran down to sleek black boots worn under his pants.

  Looking into the mirror face on this time Diablo sighed as his fingers gently ran over the bruises on his face. He would have loved to wear his hair out this evening as he could have hid most of the bruising with his hair. But he knew that Georgio preferred him to braid his hair so he did so quickly, securing it with a long leather tie. The last thing he did was take up Georgio’s collar and fasten it around his neck. God he hated the thing and his cat was never happy when he wore it either. Diablo flicked the small D ring on the collar and prayed like crazy that Georgio would not use the leash on him tonight. It was one thing to wear a collar and bruises. It was a totally humiliating experience to have to be led around on a leash like a prize bull.

  “No more after tonight. This is it.” Mouthing the words to his reflection and in part to soothe his cat, Diablo took one last look and then headed out the door and down the stairs to wait for the car. He just wanted to get this evening over and done with so his life with his mate could start.

  ~~~

  Three hours into the party and Diablo’s head was aching. Although it was a private function there were well over 200 people packed into the club. The music was loud, the alcohol was flowing and everyone it seemed was having a good time, except Diablo. He desperately wanted to go to the bathroom to get some peace but as Georgio had put the leash on his collar he was forced to just sit by the horrible man’s side and put up with his frequent caresses. It was taking all ten years of FBI training and a hell of a lot of cat shifter pride to just sit still and wait things out.

  At least Georgio was having a good time, the schmuck. His private table sat towards the back of the club set high so that it overlooked the dance floor. All night visiting hoods and thugs had come to pay homage to the man and he was reveling in the attention. Diablo knew he could get some really interesting tips about t
he latest buys and drops and everything else that would be useful to the FBI but honestly he couldn’t be bothered. As far as he was concerned he had been an FBI whore long enough. He worked on keeping his face bland and his body still as Georgio ran yet another finger up the inside seam of his leather pants. Diablo tried to shift away in his chair but the leash held him fast.

  One of Georgio’s many steroid filled goons approached and whispered in Georgio’s ear. “Sir, Angel Bandures has arrived. Did you want to see him?” Georgio leapt up out of his chair smacking the goon aside.

  “Of course I want to see him you jerk. Get out of my way.”

  Throwing Diablo’s leash at him, Georgio scurried down the stairs and headed to the main entrance, leaving the goon behind. Diablo lifted up in his seat so he could see who Georgio was making such a fuss of. It wasn’t often that Georgio got out of his seat for anybody so this guy must be a big deal. He searched his brain for any information he might have picked up about an Angel Bandures. Wait…wait…wait…yes. Angel Bandures, crime lord from Florida. Barely anyone in law enforcement knew anything about him at all. He was reclusive, rarely made public appearances and was to all intents and purposes an extremely powerful man in crime circles. From what Diablo could remember no-one at the FBI even had a picture of the man. What the hell was a man like that doing at Georgio’s party?

  Intrigued Diablo’s eyes scanned the crowd, watching Georgio fight through the throngs of party-goers, heading for the main entrance. He stopped by a huge man and Diablo could tell by Georgio’s body language that the smaller man was positively groveling in his greeting. All Diablo could see from this angle was broad shoulders clad in an Armani suit that would probably cost Diablo a year’s wages and long wavy dark hair. Then the man in question turned his head and looked up, his eyes immediately meeting Diablo’s. Familiar green eyes locked with his for just one second then Angel Bandures, or Griff as Diablo knew him as, turned his attention back to Georgio who was obviously urging the man to join them at his private table.

  Lurching to his feet Diablo muttered, “Bathroom” to the goon who was blocking his way before shoving past and running for the staff restroom facilities at the back of the club. He flung the door open and finding the room empty Diablo headed for the far stall, slamming the door open and then he violently threw up into the toilet. Only when he had stopped retching did he flush and then flip the toilet lid down, sitting on it heavily.

  What the fuck? Diablo’s mind was scrambled as his jumbled thoughts fought for supremacy. Griff was his mate. Griff was Angel Bandures. Griff was supposed to be a mechanic, but he was here in an Armani suit being fawned over by Georgio. Angel Bandures was apparently a feared crime lord from Florida. No one even knew what he looked like. Griff was a mechanic damn it from Cloverleah. Diablo wanted to be mated to a mechanic not a fucking crime lord.

  Feet tapping, fingers clutching his knees, Diablo struggled to put his thoughts in order. His mind ran over the night he had first met Griff. The man’s casual dress of jeans and a muscle shirt, his lazy smile and his total lack of pretence. Then he remembered Griff’s intoxicating smell and how even drunk Griff’s very presence lured Diablo in. Diablo knew without question that Griff was his mate - that is why he claimed him. Like he had a choice. His cock was straining at his zipper and his heart was aching to hold the man again, all just from being in the same building as his mate. The Fate’s were funny like that. No matter whether Griff was this Angel person, or the mechanic he originally claimed to be, he was Diablo’s mate and for some reason he was here at Georgio’s party. Sitting in the bathroom wasn’t going to help Diablo work out why.

  Pushing out of the stall, Diablo washed his face and hands and then pushed open the door to the facilities. Standing outside were two of Georgio’s goons, who grabbed him by his arms and started pulling him back to the party. Diablo shrugged them off so he could stand on his own two feet but he didn’t try to get away from them.

  “I do know my way out of the bathroom guys. It’s not like I needed an escort,” he said sarcastically. The goons ignored him and stayed by his side until he got back to his vacant chair. Griff was sitting in the one immediately next to it, with Georgio on the other. Boy this was going to be fun. Diablo sat and kept his gaze lowered and his face expressionless. He felt Georgio reach for his leash that was still hanging from his collar and then a harsh tug as Georgio pulled his face around to meet his. He heard a hiss from Griff beside him and realized that Griff must have seen his bruises. Even though his body was positively humming from being so close to his mate, Diablo tried to focus on Georgio whose voice was dripping with contempt.

  “You were gone too long boy. Don’t leave my sight again.”

  Georgio ran his thumb hard across Diablo’s bruised chin and Diablo went to drop his head down again. Fuck he didn’t want to look at anybody. Then he felt another hand touch his face gently tipping his head to one side as Griff examined his face. The look on Griff’s face was menacing and Diablo refused to meet his eyes. But Griff wasn’t looking at him - he was looking at Georgio.

  “What happened to your boy Georgio? Accident with a boot?” If Georgio was surprised by Griff’s growling tone, he didn’t show it.

  “Stupid boy needed to learn some manners. He is lucky that is all he got.” Holy hell, Georgio sounded like he was proud of himself. Diablo refused to look up at either man. Maybe spending the rest of his life in the bathroom wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  Griff growled. Yep that was a positive loud and possessive growl. But when he spoke his voice was deceptively quiet.

  “Don’t know that I want to do business with a man who can’t treat his boy with respect. Not only have you marked him badly but then you have humiliated him by making him wear his hair back. Is this something you get off on, Georgio? Think it makes you a big man when your boy wears your bruises?”

  “I…er…no, of course not Mr. Bandures…” Georgio struggled for something to say as Griff reached behind Diablo and careful untied his hair allowing it to fall down over Diablo’s shoulders. Griff sat back in his chair and clicked his fingers over his shoulder. A young slim blond twink human bounded up to Griff’s side and ran his hand over Griff’s shoulders. He too was wearing a small gold collar but he had his leash in his own hands.

  The surge of rage Diablo felt as the twink ran his hands over his mate was powerful. He quickly put his hand between his legs to stop anyone from seeing them partially shift. The look he gave Griff would fell most men at 100 paces. Diablo felt his cat roaring and screaming to get out and Diablo struggled to stop from shifting then and there. He wanted to feel the little twink’s blood running through his hands. Fortunately Georgio was still focused on Griff or he might have noticed something was wrong.

  Griff wasn’t paying any attention either and instead was whispering in the twink’s ear. He unclipped his leash from the collar the little man was wearing. Then he smiled at the twink’s positive response and patted his cheek in an affectionate gesture before turning back to Georgio.

  “We have business to discuss. Let Ramon here take your boy to the dance floor. I have no wish to be overheard.” Griff meant business all right. His tone was strong and powerful and invited no argument. Floundering Georgio heard the operative word ‘business’ and quickly unleashed Diablo and indicated he should stand up.

  Throwing another filthy look at Griff, Diablo allowed himself to be towed to the dance floor by the young blond, his blood seething. As soon as he got there he wrenched his hand out of Ramon’s, turned his back on the private table and just let himself feel the music. Diablo loved to dance. His whole body pulsed with the deep slow beat of the loud sounds and he moved unconsciously. For a brief moment he allowed himself to close his eyes and just be totally alone with the music and the beat. Every time he felt the twink invade his space he fluidly moved out of the way. In this space he was totally alone and nothing else mattered but the feel of the music through his body. The problems with his mate, his rock hard coc
k, all could disappear in the rhythm of the music.

  Back at the table Griff was listening with half an ear as Georgio babbled about what an honor it was to have someone like ‘Angel’ want to do business in his area. He talked about distribution lines, outlet points, and established contacts, obviously trying to impress the larger man about the size of his reach and his ability to handle any amount of business that might come his way.

  Griff was far more interested in watching Diablo out of the corner of his eye. The man’s fluid motions were sensual without being overt. His feet, legs and hips kept perfect time to the beat, shifting with each different song. Diablo’s half closed eyes and his slightly upturned face gave him a look of isolated beauty. His long blond hair cascaded down his back like a veil of silk. The sight was truly beautiful and not for the first time Griff regretted being so drunk when he first met the man. Diablo was a man who didn’t dance to impress anyone. A cat that was graceful with every move he made. The only thing Griff would change is that Diablo’s arms currently hanging by his sides would be wrapped around him and their eyes would be locked together as they moved together. As his cock strained against his zipper Griff forced himself to pay attention to Georgio. It really was time to get Diablo out of here.

  “…level of business were you hoping to put through?” Georgio’s voice all eager. Griff hated this sort of mark. Someone who thought they were their own version of the Godfather in their little hick town areas. Georgio was just a thug in a suit. A greedy thug though and that could work to Griff’s advantage.

  “Not too much at first. Probably a couple of mill a time for the first half a dozen times to see how it goes.” The boredom in Griff’s voice was a direct contrast to Georgio’s sales pitch. Griff noted the bright gleam in Georgio’s eyes. Yes you little shit a couple of million dollars worth of product just going through this area once would set you up for life.