by Julia Talbot
They still had to find out what was going on with Rey and who was after him. A deeply personal relationship would cloud things….
Said the man with his cock buried in Rey’s ass.
Yeah, that was about as deep as a man could get.
When Rey rose to kiss him, he gave up thinking. This connection was worth the work complications. The rest of it was just legwork.
Chapter Five
REY WAS sore in the best possible way, aching deep down.
It was delicious, arousing, and, to be honest, slightly distracting, given that they had to move along and get things done. He needed to get stuff out of his car, meet the bear in the office, and probably get grilled again by the entire staff. Dylan needed to do… well, all sorts of things, including check in with the tech guy, from what he understood.
Rey dressed in his newly washed and dried clothes, then waited for Dylan to be ready to go. He didn’t want to be a panicky idiot, so he focused on breathing. Deep breaths in and out, which he hoped would help to calm him.
One big hand landed on the back of his neck. “You okay?”
The touch flooded him with a sudden comfort, and he nodded. “I am. I’m ready and able to move on.”
“Cool. Now, I want to just go over a few things. We’ll have backup at the office, but I still want us in and out of your car as quickly as possible. If I say run, you run. No arguments. Okay?”
“No arguments. I’m not stupid.” Neither was he particularly brave.
“Good man.” Dylan dropped a quick kiss on his mouth. “Check the window? I’ll get the back door, make sure it’s safe to go to the car.”
“Of course. No crocs.” None. Zero. Zip.
“Nope. Or any other predator who stinks and eats turtles….”
He had to laugh at that. Dylan was trying hard to help him stay calm. Rey forced himself to push the curtain away, peek outside. He didn’t see anything odd. He sniffed hard.
No weird smells, thank goodness.
“Okay, let’s move out.” Dylan held out a hand to him.
Their fingers twined together, that increasingly familiar jolt sliding up his arm. Dylan just did it for him, whatever it was. He’d never let someone do what Dylan had done to him so quickly, and never had he engaged in sex quite so wildly.
Pheromones. Pheromones plus stress.
Possibly pheromones plus stress multiplied by hot ex-cop. Dylan was big and shaggy and looked relatively harmless until he took his clothing off.
One way or the other, every time they got close enough to touch, his body got hot, ready.
“I can smell you, honey. Relax.” Dylan leaned down and nuzzled his temple. “Breathe.”
“Sorry. Sorry, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
“With who?” Dylan led him out the back, the same way they’d come in the day before.
“Your people? Your boss? He doesn’t like me already.” Rey knew that, no question.
“Oh, he just needs to get over himself.”
The SUV looked normal, but Dylan checked all around it before letting him in. So cautious.
Dylan put him in the front seat, then went around the front. No expression of fear or anger appeared. Maybe they were okay.
Dylan crawled into the vehicle, closing the door behind him and locking it. “Let’s go. I don’t like being out in the open.”
“Me either. Will they follow us? I mean from the office. My car is there, so once we show up….”
“We’ll take precautions. Don’t worry.”
“Okay.” Certainly. He had nothing at all to worry about. Nothing.
Dylan winked over at him, those eye lines so crinkled and cute. How anyone could think his wolf was cute…. But he did.
“Really, Rey. I’ll take care of you.”
He leaned up, touched their cheeks together. “I believe you.”
“Good.” Dylan beamed, then put them in reverse. “So, we’ll look at your car, then maybe swing by the HR office where the victim worked.”
“My contact hasn’t called back, hasn’t emailed.” The lack of communication made a ball of worry curl into his belly.
“Which is why I think we ought to stop by. You did business with them; it’s not like you can’t go to their offices for another ‘job.’” Dylan made air quotes around job.
“Right. Right, I’ll stop in.” He wouldn’t go into a bathroom where crocs might find water, but he’d see if Corde was there.
“We will.” Dylan gave him a cop-like glare.
“Are you going to be my assistant?” As if Dylan could look like anyone’s mere assistant.
“I am. I think it will be good to show you have some muscle with you.”
Oh, he’d make a show of it, wouldn’t he? Dylan was a stone-cold stud, and Rey loved the idea of having the wolf at his side. He clapped his hands with delight.
That way if it was the former PR office after him, well, they would know he had backup.
He leaned his head back against the seat, his throat working as they drove.
“You need something to drink? I can stop.”
“No. No, I’m just….” What? Scared? Worried? Stressed? “I’m fine.”
“I’m so sorry you have to go through this, but I’m not a bit sorry you came to me.” Dylan put a hand on his thigh.
The worry, the stress just melted away in a heartbeat. How… fascinating, that a simple touch should make him so pleased.
“Do you feel that, Dylan?”
“Feel how good it is to touch you? Yes.”
Rey wasn’t sure that was an answer. Maybe it was just him. Maybe he was just that high-strung. Maybe he was just a dork.
No.
Dylan’s touch made him melt.
Dylan rubbed a little, derailing his thoughts again. “We’ll head to the office, get your things, stow your car, say hi, visit the PR firm, then go have tacos.”
“I love tacos! How did you know? Did I tell you?”
“Um. I can’t remember if you did or not.” Dylan chuckled. “That’s good, though. I love tacos so bad.”
“Mmm.” With pico. He loved pico de gallo. And maybe a side of rice, if it looked right, because rice was truly the craps roll of Mexican food.
“I can imagine watching you eat tacos, honey. I bet you like the crispy ones.”
“I do. Wait, watching me? Is that good?”
“Well, not as good as it would be to watch you eat ice cream, but yeah. Good.”
Oh. Oh! Goodness.
“I am good at ice cream cones, Dylan. Very. I never miss a drip.”
Dylan moaned, and if the sound was a little exaggerated, it was okay. He could feel from the way heat filled the front seat that Dylan would like to see him eat a cone. He licked his lips, picturing it.
“I’ll get us ice cream after tacos….” Dylan’s voice had gone husky.
“We should take it somewhere private. Somewhere we can… share.” Rey was flirting madly, but he was in for a penny, in for a pound now.
“Now that sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day, and you’re full of good ideas. So am I.” The constant teasing distracted him until they were on the interstate and moving fast. That made everything easier. Crocs didn’t seem like big interstate drivers.
Maybe that was wishful thinking, but those guys had been all grrr and tooth and not much brain.
They pulled off about twenty minutes later, heading in toward Dylan’s office. His poor baby car. He hoped it wasn’t trashed.
Surely it wouldn’t be, right? It was a private detective’s parking lot.
They had to know that, whoever they were.
That was the scariest thing about the whole situation, having no idea who was after him. Or why. So he couldn’t do anything about it, because he couldn’t do research or call about for information.
He could still hear Mick telling Dylan to find out what he was hiding, but there wasn’t anything. Should he have given Elise the files? They were hers, weren’t they? About
her. Nothing earth-shattering.
“You’re thinking loud.”
“I’m trying to figure out what I did wrong.”
“Honey, this isn’t you. You didn’t do anything, I’d bet on it. Someone else either thought you were a good place to hide something, or it’s mistaken identity.”
“I haven’t been, like… shot with a microchip or anything.” Had he? Rey hadn’t felt any strange bumps, lumps, or flu-like symptoms, and he was quite sensitive to such things.
“Well, if you have been, James can find out, I guess.” Dylan shook his head. “I mean, I doubt it?”
He noticed Dylan wasn’t ruling it out.
“You would have noticed last night, right?” He would have in the shower. Except those croc’s eyes had hypnotized him….
“I would have. I touched every inch of you, honey. I have a bug scanner, though, if it will make you feel better.” Dylan was humoring him, but that was okay. It was sweet.
“Anything to keep me out of suspicion, huh?”
They pulled into the parking lot, his car right there, safe and sound. Not a scratch on it, from the initial view.
In fact. Dylan parked right next to it. “Let me text Kit. He’s the bear. He can shift in a heartbeat, so he’ll come stand watch.” Dylan tugged out his phone.
“Yeah. I think I’ll stay right here, though….” Rey tingled like he was wide-awake, like he was buzzed. Crocs didn’t move fast in the cool weather, right?
Adrenaline.
“That’s fine. You tell me what I’m looking for.”
“Huh?” Crocodile? Surely Dylan hadn’t forgotten.
“No, in the car. You want to stay here, right?” Dylan frowned, looking confused.
“I meant until you texted. Sorry. I’m…. Does it feel weird out there to you?”
“Not that I can tell yet, but you notice things. What feels weird?” Dylan finished tapping.
“I feel tingly. As if I’m being hunted.” Rey cast his gaze about again.
“Okay.” Dylan looked in the rearview, eyes moving, never staying too long in one place. That nose moved too. Just the fact that Dylan believed him, trusted in him, made it better.
Someone came into view in his side mirror, but they waved, which bad guys didn’t do.
“Okay, that’s Kit. Let’s do this, honey.”
“Right.” He forced himself to open the SUV door and grab his keys, then run for the car.
He needed clothes. Work stuff. His mail, which he’d grabbed before going to meet Elise. His box with his papers—passport, etc.
The rest of the stuff was bibs and bobs from the apartment. Keepsakes. His coffee maker.
Those could sit in the car. Maybe he could get Dylan to move it to a storage unit.
The grass moved in the wind, and his heart stopped in his chest.
“Hey. Smell anything, Kit?” Dylan asked the big guy who joined them.
“Fish. Rotten fish.”
“Oh fuck,” Dylan spat.
Yeah, Rey concurred. Fuck was about right.
“Inside,” Dylan barked. “Crocs are here. Now!” Dylan drew his weapon, pushing Rey after Kit. Kit grabbed Rey up and ran, sprinting for the building.
He could really run for a big guy. Rey was getting used to being carried around, for all that he wasn’t tiny.
The pop-pop of a gun going off made him wince, ducking into Kit’s body.
“You’re okay.” The door flew open and he was tossed, right into Mick’s waiting arms.
Kit whirled and ran back out, and a jaguar streaked by him, snarling as it ran.
Mick drew him deep in the building, keeping him away from the windows.
“Just stay down, kiddo. My guys have this.” Mick’s confidence did help, which surprised him. Perhaps wolves had a way about them that comforted, though Dylan was more his thing.
“I can’t believe…. They’re so awful.” And Dylan was out there with them. His Dylan.
“I want to know what the hell they want. Dylan says you’re not at fault, and I trust his gut. But I need you to think hard. What else might tie you and the dead lady together? Anything?” Mick waved his hands in the air.
“Just the man I got the file from, and… whoever recommended me to her?” Those were the only two points of contact.
“Okay.” Mick paced. “What if it’s not her. What else were you working on?”
“I’m gathering information on an Indian CEO for a software company, and I was bidding a job from a fashion designer, but they haven’t contacted me yet.”
“Have you gotten anything from either of them? Anything someone might have thought you passed on to your HR lady?”
“The fashion designer, no. The software company? Yes, they’ve sent me a great deal since I’m in the middle of the gathering stage.”
“Okay, then we look there.” Mick pulled out his phone. “James, I need eyes. What the hell is going on out there?”
“They’re coming in. Four dire crocs, boss. Four.”
“Coming in? What’s the status on Kit and Dylan and Brock?”
The door opened and the guys tumbled in, the scent of dead fish everywhere.
Rey ran for Dylan, heedless of the mess, the smell. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m all right. We need to set up defenses. They’re still busting through walls.”
“Okay. What can I do?” Rey grabbed his phone even as he asked the question. He could do what he was good at. Research. He typed quickly. “Go for the eyes and the palatal valve in the back of the throat. They can’t go fast for any length of time. Too much lactic acid buildup.”
“Got it. Hold ’em off. Lots of sirens are on their way.” That was James on Mick’s speaker.
“They’re not going to keep attacking. They’ll back off. They’re not smart enough to be fiercely loyal.” Rey’s fingers flew, information popping up on his phone rapidly.
“Then we hold them off. Do we have weapons in here, Brock?” Mick barked. The big boss could snarl.
Brock, whoever he was, snorted. “We have weapons in the breakroom.”
“They’re backing off, boss. Running into the grasses. Local police are on property.” The voice on the radio was calm.
Rey wasn’t sure where this James was, but he was obviously watching.
He thought Dylan had said James was the tech guy, so that made sense. His heart was pounding, and everything felt bad and wrong except Dylan against him.
Goddess, what if Dylan was hurt, what if the others were? It would be his fault.
“You’re shaking, honey.” Dylan held him, half carrying him to a seat.
“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to desert you. I just….” He hadn’t thought. He’d done what he was told.
“No, I told you to go when I said. You did.” Dylan stroked his back. “It was easier because I didn’t have to worry where you were.”
“Take Rey upstairs, Dylan. We don’t need him questioned when the cops get here. Kit and I will deal with the locals. Carrie is out until next Monday, so I’ll put my nice face on.” Mick snapped out orders like he never doubted once that everyone would obey.
“You got it, boss. Carrie’s okay?” Dylan asked.
“Yeah.” Mick pulled a face. “Her mom fell.”
“Shit, I’ll send a card. Come on, honey. My office.” Dylan took him out of the back room they were in. “We can curl up.”
He hadn’t done anything, had he? Rey thought he was doing basic information gathering. Public records, public domain—things that were accessible.
“You didn’t do a thing. The boss just hates to have to call in local LEOs.”
“LEOs? I—” Wait. Was his worry that clear, that obvious that Dylan could read it on his face? Rey prided himself on being self-contained.
“Law enforcement officers.” Dylan hugged him once they got to the office. “Peanut butter cup?”
“Uhn.” He didn’t pounce, but honestly, when did peanut butter not make it better?
“Do you
like Raisinettes? I can get some at the store.”
“I do, yes. Oh, I never expected anyone to try to hurt any of you. I didn’t know what else to do when I hired you.”
“Stop. We know the dangers. We just didn’t think you needed that much security based on your initial information. Now we know.” Dylan’s tone brooked little argument.
“Yeah.” Now they knew he was crazy scared and hunted by big bad ugly lizards.
“No one would believe now that you were doing this to yourself.”
“No. No, I wouldn’t even begin to know how to arrange this.” That was a comfort, he supposed.
“I know.” They shared a pair of peanut butter cups, Dylan licking his fingers, then Rey’s. Silly wolf, using that amazing tongue of his at an inappropriate moment.
“What do we do now?” Rey leaned in. “Just wait?”
“The boss will want to meet after he and Brock handle the fallout. I fired a couple of warning shots, so they’ll have to prove a threat and smooth some feathers.”
Rey nodded and drew his legs up, resting his chin on his knees. What a mess. “So, who is Brock?”
“The jaguar shifter. Pretty and sleek in cat form, grumpy and kinda a slob in human form. We’ll get through this, you know.” Dylan kissed the top of his head. “Rest up. Adrenaline is hell.”
“I just feel like a bad luck charm.” One that drew scary crocodiles.
“You have an amazing sense of danger.” Dylan chuckled. “We could use a guy like you on the team.”
“Me? You all are so… studly.” Dylan especially. Rey kept looking, gaze drawn to the strong body, the heavy muscles. Such situations really did heighten things like sexual attraction, which he already felt toward Dylan far out of proportion to how long they’d known one another.
“We need all kinds of skill, honey.” Dylan flexed a little, though, didn’t he?
“I could lick you all over.” The words slid out of him. Stress. It had to be stress, and if he were honest, this mate-like pull he felt toward Dylan.
“Okay. Let me lock the door.” Dylan didn’t even pretend to argue.
Oh, goodness gracious. Were they genuinely going to do this now, with crocs and police downstairs? He put his legs down to make room for his cock. It was growing rapidly, especially since Dylan was kinda stripping right off.
