Hard To Find
Hell Hounds Harem
Book 1
Second Trilogy
By Briana Michaels
Copyright
All names, characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to actual places, events, or real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission, in writing, of the author.
www.BrianaMichaels.com
Copyright © 2019 Briana Michaels
Contents
Hard To Find
Copyright
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Trilogy Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Other Books By This Author
About the Author
Dedication
To Danielle – Never settle and never stop being your badass self. I love you.
Acknowledgements
I can’t fit everyone into this without adding a hundred more pages to the book, but…
Ivy Fox – We did it, woman! This trilogy was cranked out with you on the other side of the world cheering me on. I’m so glad we found each other and get to rock the sprinting buddy magic every day. Thank you for always being there with advice, laughs, and patience.
Shannon, Linda, Katie, and the rest of the pack sisters – Thank you for supporting me. The emails, messages, posts, all the book recs and reviews, the list could go on and on and I’m thankful for all of it and for every single pack member. I’m the luckiest author in the world to have readers like you.
Myah – You’re the greatest friend ever and I’ll never take you for granted. Also, I’m sorry I always make you read the first draft.
Shawn – Damn, I love you so much. Thanks for putting up with my craziness.
Trilogy Epigraph
That which does not kill you, will try harder next time.
Chapter 1
When staring death in the face, put your middle finger up and laugh. Bishop would love to do that right now, but he was holding a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. Chasing a malanum through the empty warehouse, he slammed his shoulder against the door and tumbled out into the night. Booking it down the city sidewalk, he tucked his blade away, hung a left, scaled the side of a brick building with the use of his Hell Hound powers, and took down his enemy by jumping on top of the fucker. Crashing to the ground hard enough for his teeth to clack, Bishop loomed over the evil bastard, aimed his Glock, gave the middle finger salute, and pulled the trigger. Black sticky goop splattered everywhere.
“Back you go, asshole,” Bishop opened a Hell hole and tossed the malanum in.
He shouldn’t have done that. He should have tried to question the thing first, but there was no stopping the instincts roaring in Bishop now. He’d gone too long with too little, causing his balance and better judgment to go off-kilter.
Damn. What if that malanum knew something the others hadn’t? What if that piece of shit evil entity knew where the twins, Sebastian and Drake, were? He shouldn’t have been so hasty. What the hell was he thinking? Shit, shit, shit.
“Ye good, Hound?”
“No.” Bishop didn’t turn towards his Alpha, Valor. Instead, he stayed on his knees, covered in black sticky blood of their enemies, and tried to calm the fuck down. When Valor put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, Bishop’s body wouldn’t stop shaking. His tremors were much worse now. He was in bad fucking shape.
“Ye almost missed your target, Hound. Ye canna go on like this.”
Bullshit, Bishop thought. He would absolutely go on like this and had no intentions of stopping until he found the twins.
“If ye willna stop, then find your balance. Ye canna run around like a feral animal, half-cocked with no wits about ye. As your alpha, I demand ye rest.”
Bishop flinched when Valor squeezed his shoulder harder. “Doona make me take the choice away from ye, Hound.”
He knew what that meant. It would be his only warning. “I can’t stop, Val.”
“And ye canna keep going either. Look,” Val crouched down and forced Bishop to look at him, “We willna stop until they’re found. I’ve told ye this a hundred times. But we must be well enough to do this. If we’re going to be of use to them, then we must have ourselves ready and capable of handling whatever condition they are in. We must be strong enough for the entire pack, not just ourselves, ye ken?”
It made sense. Bishop knew that. But ever since the day he…. Oh god, he couldn’t breathe, “I can’t close my eyes without seeing all the blood, Valor.”
It didn’t matter that they’d repainted the walls, replaced the carpet, and scrubbed the house with enough bleach to fill a lake. Bishop still saw what happened. What he did. He could never unsee it. Never forget the way his heart exploded when he saw what he’d done under the possession of malanum. It haunted his nights so he didn’t sleep much anymore. It haunted his days, too. There was no escaping it.
That was the night their packs’ world turned upside down. Not only was Bishop used by a horde of malanum, but the twins went missing that night, too. Bishop didn’t know if he was the cause of their disappearance or if it was a coincidence. They just… vanished. There was no trace of their blood, no scent trail, nothing that might help them find where Sebastian and Drake were. The lack of evidence had led him and Valor on a wild goose chase for weeks now.
Bishop would get no rest until he found them. This pack was all he had left. He couldn’t lose them.
Valor growled low in his throat and hauled Bishop up by the back of his leather jacket. “I will continue to hunt tonight. But you’re done, Hound. Go unfuck yourself.”
“No,” he argued. He couldn’t just drop the hunt and head home now. His mind buzzed with chaos and his palms itched to beat on something. Bishop was a handful and a half; he knew that about himself, but had no way of getting better. He was a broken, twisted Hound with more passion than even he could handle. That meant he needed releases of some kind – a hunt, a fuck, a wild night, a good fight, something to take the edge off and quiet his buzzing nerves. Lately, however, all he had done was chase his motherfucking tail looking for the twins and constantly coming up empty handed.
“Unfuck yourself, Hound. That’s a direct order.” Valor released Bishop and stormed off.
“What am I supposed to do?” he called out
.
Valor yelled over his shoulder, “You’re a smart man. Figure it out. Come home when you’re done and we’ll make some more calls.” He kept walking away, his knife barely visible in his big palm. Valor’s gait, long and confident, had him at the corner of Main and North within seconds.
Bishop leaned against the brick building and concealed his weapons. His hands shook so bad, he struggled to snap his gun back into the holster. Same with his knife. Fuck, his vision went wonky too. Everything blurred and had a halo.
Valor was right. Bishop was in no condition to be out hunting like this. Not for malanum. Not for answers. And certainly not for miracles.
Scrubbing his face again, Bishop blinked a couple times and rolled his shoulders back. He looked around, suddenly confused about where he even was. He’d lived just outside of Baltimore for over six years now and knew these streets like the back of his hand. And yet confusion assaulted him right now. He might as well have been dumped off the side of a boat smack dab in the middle of the ocean with no island in sight.
He headed right, pivoted and went left, no… right. He should go right.
Fuuuuck.
His cell went off but the vibration barely registered. Numbly, he reached into his back pocket and pulled it out. “Yeah?”
“Bishop?”
His head started throbbing. “Yeah. Who the fuck is this?”
“I tried to contact Valor, but he’s not answering his phone. Go to The Blue Lizard. Hurry, you don’t have much time.”
“The Blue Lizard? Wait, who the hell is this?” She hung up. “Hello? Yo! You there?” Nothing. Bishop frowned at his phone screen. The caller was unknown. Damnit.
Bishop hissed through his teeth, exhaling a fuck-ton of frustration, and shoved his phone back in his pocket. Looking around and concentrating, he figured out where he was in relation to The Blue Lizard and took off at a dead run towards the concert venue. It was a smaller place for bands to debut in the area. With a max capacity of three hundred heads, it had one bar that served shit beer, rail drinks, and overpriced soda and waters.
He had no idea who’d called him, but assumed it was one of Valor’s psychics he kept on retainer. If she said to go to The Blue Lizard, Bishop was damn well going. What if this was a lead? What if the twins were there?
Yeah, that was a bit of stretch, but Bishop was fucking desperate.
Hope – that no good troublemaking emotion – bloomed in his chest and Bishop could barely handle the money exchange to get into the venue. Rising stars had concerts here to grow their following and you usually had to buy your ticket in advance. Not tonight, thank fuck. It was open mic night and anyone was welcome to waltz in for a small fee of five lousy bucks to hear beginner musicians scream on stage.
“How’s it going, man?” The bouncer let Bishop past him without a pat-down.
He came here a lot. Concerts were one of the few things that calmed his nerves and reminded him that he wasn’t dead anymore. “Good, good. Hey. You see any of my boys here tonight?”
The bouncer frowned. “Just that big red-headed guy you run with. He ran by here about ten minutes ago actually. Didn’t come in though.”
“What about the twins, Sebastian and Drake?”
“Naw, man. Haven’t seen those two here for a while.” The bouncer shrugged, “I just got here about an hour ago. If you’re expecting them, they might be inside already and I just didn’t see ‘em.” He stepped aside and let Bishop through.
The Hound’s stomach plummeted to his boots. Damn, why the fuck would that woman call and say to come here if it wasn’t for the twins? This is stupid, Bishop thought. If the twins were alive, they wouldn’t waste time going to open mic night. Not after what happened. Talk about grasping for straws, now Bishop wanted to beat his own ass for having this much hope and stupidity.
He couldn’t help but play the fool though. Hope made you a dumb fuck. Entering the venue, he scanned the place, worked his way through the small crowd, and wanted to tear the place to shreds when he finally reached the bar. The twins weren’t here. Only misery was here to greet him.
Sadly, Bishop was used to being misery’s company.
The Hell Hound walked the perimeter of the place, looking for signs of anything that might give him a clue. Dimly lit and well used, The Blue Lizard was rough around the edges with some good bones and a lot of memories. Oh if these walls could talk, they’d tell some tales. To his relief, and disappointment, the place was clear of malanum. No evil in sight, damnit. And no twins, either. What a fucking waste of time this detour was. After scanning the darker corners one more time for malanum, Bishop took a seat at the bar.
With a flick of his finger, he ordered a shot of tequila. Why did that caller tell him to be here? Why did she say he didn’t have much time? It had to be because the twins were here, right?
“You’re pathetic,” Bishop growled to himself. He tipped back his cheap fucking tequila and swiftly ordered two more. “You’re not worthy of the pack.” He took the next shot and reached for the third. Just as he was about to pound that one too, he looked up and froze. “Holy mother of God.”
Chapter 2
Fear looked like a buxom strawberry blonde in tight jeans, a frilly shirt, and a messy bun. Matilda Jane, better known as “Tilly”, leaned against the bathroom door while trying to decide if she should go back in to puke one more time, or if she was going to be able to make it out of this goddamn place without looking like a fool.
Below her, she watched the crowd push closer and closer to the stage and knew things were about to get started. The lights dimmed, the music switched from chill to rock. Her eyes scanned the area, trying to envision herself going through with this. Her gaze swung across the way and she stiffened.
There was that guy again, looking sullen and exhausted as he stared at her from across the balcony. He was sexy in a disheveled kind of way. Every time they ran into each other, she couldn’t stop staring at him, but he never came close. Never even waved. It was starting to creep her out, big time. Tilly released her death grip on the door handle and took a step forward to confront the creeper, but her stomach roiled and she spun around to puke again instead.
Ten minutes later, Tilly was fairly certain she was finished for real this time so she splashed some cold water on her face and berated herself in the mirror. “What is your problem, Tilly? It’s a stage. That’s all. These people don’t matter. They’re here for cheap drinks and to get laid. If you sing, they won’t even pay attention. You can do this. You totally got this, woman. Go out there and do your thing.”
She fixed her mascara, took a deep breath, and bumped the door open with her ass. Spinning around, she noticed the creeper wasn’t there anymore, which was probably best right now. She didn’t need distractions.
Gliding down the metal steps, her hands shook and face felt tingly. “Stop being a little bitch. You got this.” Her foot landed wrong on the next step and she slipped, tumbling ass over tin cup down the stairs.
“Oh shit!” someone yelled.
“Dayem!” someone else laughed.
Tilly hit the bottom of the steps, landing on her back, dazed and confused. A pair of jeans crouched down in front of her, “Shit, you okay?”
No. She wasn’t okay. Not. At. All. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“Can you stand?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Tilly refused to accept the bartender’s help as she rolled over to her knees and slowly picked herself up. He tried to put his hands on her waist to steady her and she hissed at how much her ass and back hurt, “Please don’t touch me.” She was grateful he backed off. “I’m fine. Really. It wasn’t that bad.”
“Here,” said a man from her left. He handed her a shot of tequila. “This stuff will numb the pain.”
Holy Hell, this guy was crazy hot. Which made this whole situation so much worse, by the way. Tilly tried to laugh, but her chin quivered too much for it to look genuine. Embarrassment gripped her. She hated this so much she wanted to scre
am. Instead of running away to cry and sulk, she slapped on her brave face and said, “I think I’ll need more than one of those to numb my ass. It really hurts.”
“I’ll take the bottle,” Mr. Leather Jacket said to the bartender before turning back to her, “You want ice?”
“For my ass or the drink?” Tilly brushed her jeans off and tested her ankle. Applying some weight to it, she sighed in relief. Thank god, it wasn’t broken.
“You sure you’re okay?” the bartender asked again. “I can call the manager?”
“No, I’m good. I just want people to stop staring.”
Hot dude in the leather jacket lightly chuckled, “That’ll be impossible.”
“That bad of a shitshow, huh?”
“Not at all,” he grinned, “you’re just that damn beautiful.”
Ignoring the compliment, Tilly took another step forward and hissed. Every move she made, her back and tailbone screamed in protest.
“May I touch you?” Mr. Leather Jacket asked. There wasn’t a smidgen of humor in his tone.
It made her nervous and more embarrassed. “Depends,” when all else fails, flirt. “Where were you thinking of touching me?”
He jabbed a finger at her elbow.
Oh. “Sure,” she said reluctantly. “I can’t possibly look more pathetic than I already do.”
“Nothing pathetic about getting some help when you need it.”
“Or tequila,” she tried to deflect.
Mr. Leather Jacket laughed, “Or tequila.”
He held her elbow with a solid, secure grip, but not tight enough to hurt. With his other hand at her back, but not touching her, she figured he was preparing in case he had to catch her if she fell again. And wouldn’t that be the icing on the embarrassment cake. He escorted her over to the bar and allowed her to take her time sitting down. Gingerly. Very gingerly.
Hard to Find (Hell Hounds Harem Book 4) Page 1
