by Julia Talbot
The crocs had taken Rey, beaten the snot out of him—rather gently for a croc, he thought—then thrown him in here. Obviously he didn’t have the damn SIM card, now did he? So why were they waiting? Why hadn’t they taken James, who was important to the team?
The tiger stalked up, swatting at the cage and the croc with it. Rey rolled and went with the motion. He didn’t need any more bruises. He could stand it if the cage popped open, though, so he could run.
“God!” Patel kicked the croc. “We need to go kill this wolf and his pack. Do you understand?”
Dylan’s voice came to him at the same time he heard the hum of an engine approaching outside. We’re coming, mate.
Yes. Oh yes, that would be lovely.
There was grim determination in Dylan’s mental voice. And rage.
Please.
He didn’t want to die here. Not like this.
Rey tensed, ready to bolt. The croc yawned, huge teeth showing, then snapping idly at the tiger man.
The man swung his hand down, and the croc moved away, the fist slamming into the cage, shattering it. That was all Rey needed and he was off and running, his tail like a rudder behind him.
He could outrun a croc and a tiger, at least in the short-term, clocking almost thirty miles an hour at full speed.
“Get him!” Patel roared.
The sound of gunshots outside might have deterred him if he didn’t need to get out of the house so much.
He zoomed to the stairs, staying low as he hid in the dark shadows. Okay. Okay, he had to go up. He had to….
Two bears barreled down the stairs—one familiar black bear and the biggest grizzly he’d ever seen. Goodness. Was that…. He thought the black bear was Kit. Maybe.
He didn’t want to get eaten, by croc or by bear.
Crocs went flying, the bears working together like Viking warriors on a raid. He shook his head, taking another step, another.
There was some strain across the mate bond he could feel, as if Dylan was in fight mode.
He had to trust that the bears would—
A huge hand grabbed him, shook him so hard that the world shuddered, went black and sparkly about the edges.
Oh God. This was it. Patel was going to kill him.
A snarl sounded, and a large gray wolf flew down the last few steps in a tremendous leap, hitting Patel right at waist level. He bit and tore, going for maximum damage. He wasn’t as big as Patel, but he had lots of teeth.
“Fuck!” the big man roared, staggering back and dropping him. Dylan leaped in, attacking Patel at the Achilles. All the roars and blood and pain were making Rey dizzy, making him crazed enough that he ran in circles.
Dylan put himself between Rey and Patel, pushing him back toward the stairs.
Patel shifted halfway, claws slashing through the air.
Dylan leaped back, growling and snapping. Rey knew he was meant to go upstairs, but he couldn’t let Dylan face this alone. Now, now he knew what to do.
Rey climbed up the outstretched arm, going for an eye, an ear. He had serrated canines; he could help.
The tiger man growled, beating at him, and he flew. One of the bears caught him, surprising a sharp sound out of him when he didn’t hit the wall.
He barked, and then Dylan went in for the attack again, teeth flashing. The tiger tossed him, and Dylan slammed into the brick wall, a yelp of pain sounding. Rey felt the pain slamming through his mate.
Rey scrambled, trying to get to Dylan.
Patel stalked over toward Dylan, claws out, a wild roar on the air. Rey couldn’t reach his mate in time; he couldn’t get there, so he did what he could.
He screamed, the sound piercing the air and stilling everything. Time stopped, both bears and crocs frozen, staring at him. Dylan only paused a moment, then rose to all four paws to lope past Patel.
Dylan scooped Rey up in his jaws and ran, drawing them up the stairs.
Brock met them at the top, armed to the teeth. “Van! Go!”
Dylan didn’t hesitate and they were flying, heading right for the van. He clung to Dylan, his claws in Dylan’s ruff. He could retract them, but not now.
He wasn’t sure if he was rejoicing or losing his ever-loving mind.
Dylan leapt into the van, the impact shuddering through them. Bruised and sore and scared, but fine. They were both fine, and Rey could hardly believe they were alive.
Brock slid into the driver’s seat. “My guys will get Kit and Mick. We got to go. Get the fox and James safe.”
He growled softly, his lip jerking up. He and Brock weren’t friends. Not at all. Not friends.
Brock ignored him, and Dylan started grooming him as they got rolling, Brock speeding toward the gate.
He sighed as the soreness began to grow, the deep ache filling him.
Dylan nosed him.
He’d done his best to help, but….
James lay on the floor of the van, pillows and blankets supporting him. He was in cat form, but there was blood.
Rey crawled toward the big cat, guilt tearing at him. He’d left James to run to the safe room.
One golden eye opened, focusing on him, and James made a sweet, happy noise. Oh, so dear.
He rubbed their muzzles together, terribly careful not to hurt.
James sighed, head resting back down on the—
Something hit the van like a battering ram just as they were about to slide through the gate.
Oh no! He turned, stumbling as Brock fought to keep the van on the road. They swung in a sickening, low circle, then the thing hit them again, and the van went over like a Tonka toy.
He shifted to human so he could wrap around James, hold on tight to his wounded friend.
Dylan barked sharply, lunging out the bent, open passenger door after Brock, who had flown out when the door popped awry.
Rey grabbed the shotgun that was between the seats. “Okay, James. I’m getting fucking tired of this.”
James snarled, those big feet flexing as he tried to get up.
“Stay down. I’m naked with a gun and being chased by a livid tiger. I’m sure I’m going to need you to have my back.”
Rey hopped out of the van to a scene of utter chaos. The grizzly was chasing down a croc, which was fascinating and gross when the bear ripped out the croc’s spine.
Dylan and Mick were grappling with Patel, and Rey knew there was no way. No way.
Tigers were the biggest of the big cats. They could kill a pack of wolves if they needed to. “Dylan! Down!” A shotgun would do some damage. Enough to take Patel down, if not kill him.
Rey didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t spout a monologue. He just shot, hitting Patel in the shoulder.
Dylan whirled back to Patel, going for the legs while Mick went for the throat. They worked seamlessly like the pack they were, even as sirens and lights began to fill the air, even as Patel began to sink down.
He figured the fight was all over when the grizzly bear came and sat on Patel, holding him. Kit lumbered up, nose working hard. Rey slipped back in the van and put the weapon away before checking on James.
James was panting, that pink tongue hanging out, the golden eyes open to slits. He’d managed to crawl to the open door but was stuck there, half in and half out.
“Kit! Kit, I need help!”
Rey didn’t want to hurt anyone, but Kit didn’t seem worried at all. Kit just swooped in and scooped James right up.
There was another vehicle, one the other bear was now pulling clothes out of.
“This has been the weirdest day ever.” Rey sat down on the seat, talking to no one at all, beginning to shake.
“Hey, you must be Rey,” the guy who had just been a bear said, bringing him a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. “They said you were small, so I got a medium. I’m Locke. The cops are coming.”
“Okay. What is the plan?” What did you do when you shot a mean tiger and all the bears had crocodile goo on them?
“The plan is for all of us but Mick to ge
t out of here. He’ll hand Patel over to the police, who will hold him until whatever government agency wants him comes to get him. He’ll get maximum security. Brock says Dylan still has some friends on the force.”
“Okay.” So he was… done. The case was over. “I guess Mick will bill me.”
He put his clothes on—no, he put on some hand-me-downs.
Gracious. Was he liable for Mick’s building? He didn’t have that much in savings. At all. He wasn’t sure he could cover the van….
Dylan snuffled at him, clearly having a hard time shifting. He reached out, immediately, cradling Dylan’s muzzle in his hands.
Dylan was warm, heavy, damp in a few places. Rey hoped it wasn’t blood.
“Are you hurt? I have you. I have you, mate.” He stroked and petted, drawing the man out.
Dylan panted, then that big wolf body strained.
He rested his forehead against Dylan’s, urging Dylan to be all right.
Dylan shuddered again, then he backed away, the wolf becoming the man.
“There you are.” Rey grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around Dylan.
“Here I am.” Dylan’s voice was rough, his face all bruised. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh.” Rey shook his head side to side. He was scared and bruised and lost and he didn’t know what to do.
“Hey. Hey, come here.” People were moving around them, Kit holding James, the Locke guy getting the wheels going, leaving Mick and Brock and the overturned van.
Dylan held him, wrapped up in the blanket with him. Rey stayed close and still, totally unsure about what happened next.
“Shhh.” Dylan stroked his back. “There’s a lot to be figured out. My place has a few empty apartments. I bet Mick will rent a few just until he figures out what to do next.”
“I’m going to owe you guys forever.” Maybe longer.
“For what?” Dylan sounded genuinely bewildered.
“Everything that’s broken.”
“We have insurance. Hell, the building carries enough to rebuild it twice.” Dylan nuzzled him. “You’re one of us, baby. Pack.”
“No one believed me.” Rey probably needed to get over it, but James had almost died and Dylan was all bruised and….
“I’ll never doubt you again,” Dylan said.
“Me either.” That came from Kit. “Not ever.”
“It’s not about you. I mean, it is, but not because of your job. I know when things are wrong.”
“I get that now, sweetheart. I let Brock and Mick sway me.” Dylan hung his head.
“Brock wants me to leave. To stay away.” The fierceness of Brock’s growls had surprised him. He’d given the man hugs!
“Brock’s hurt, Rey. Please forgive him.” Kit sounded so wrecked, so sincere. “I think he knows you’re good. He let you love on him. He just had such a bad thing.”
Dylan nodded. “We don’t know exactly the whole story, but it had to be bad.” Dylan nudged him. “You don’t have to. I’ll respect it. But….”
“Stop it. We have a thousand things to deal with first. Like James.”
“Right. Uh. Who’s driving?”
“Brock’s friend Grizzly Locke. Brock and Locke.” Kit started laughing, the sound a little hysterical.
He reached out, took Kit’s hand. “Breathe, bear.”
“Sorry.” Kit’s laughter faded to chuckles as he sucked in air.
“So, Locke?” Dylan raised his voice to be heard. “Where are we going?”
“Brock has a house in Aurora.”
“No shit?” Dylan’s eyebrows rose to his hairline.
“No shit. It’s… significant and safe, if I recall correctly. It’s been a while.”
“Wow. Okay.” Dylan chuckled. “The things we don’t know.”
“He knows to meet us there.”
“That’s cool. We need to get cleanup crews at the building too.”
“I’ll go do it,” Rey offered.
“No, you won’t,” Dylan growled. “You will stay with me.” The hand that wrapped around his hip was sure and firm.
“I will, will I?”
“Yes. I made that mistake once.” Dylan snorted. “I mean, we can’t be together 24/7, but when you have a feeling….”
“You’ll need time for the bond to finish cementing,” Locke said. “You both know that, right?”
“What does that mean?” Kit asked.
“Mates form a bond—it’s chemical at first, but the emotional part will come, the sexual part.”
“Oh, they have the sex part down,” Kit teased.
“Kit!” Rey flushed.
“Well, we do.” Dylan laughed, his voice more normal.
“We could still practice a little more,” Rey pointed out.
“I think that’s a fine idea.”
“Not now, please,” Locke said.
“No, that would be awkward,” Rey agreed.
“Gross,” Kit pointed out.
“Possibly even nasty.” That was Locke.
“Maybe hot as hell.” Dylan winked down at him.
“Maybe?” He was going to have to work harder if maybe was the best he got.
“Definitely.”
“Oh God. James, help me.” Kit rolled his eyes, but he was laughing again. “Does anyone have a phone? I think mine is in the van.”
“Mine too,” Dylan said. “In fact, I think, except for Locke, we’re all phoneless.”
Kit gasped. “I’m not sure I can survive.”
“Don’t worry, guys.” Locke tossed back a flip unit. “Burn phone.”
“Oh, my precious….” Kit grabbed it, stroking it like a pet.
Rey began to laugh, the sound starting low and filling the air.
Kit winked at him. “I’ll call Mick, see how it’s going?”
“Yeah, we all need to be together.” Dylan sighed. “Much as I always hate to admit it.”
Kit tapped out a number. “Hey, boss. Yeah, we’re going to—did you know Brock had a house? Uh-huh. Okay. See you there.”
Dylan tugged him in closer, resting his head on that broad chest.
Rey sighed. He felt as if everything was still up in the air, but he did know one thing. This was his mate, and he was going to look forward to all the parts of the bond.
Chapter Ten
EVERY BIT of Dylan hurt. Well, his heart was feeling better knowing Rey was going to forgive him. Or had, as long as he didn’t make that same mistake again.
Brock’s house was… wow. Easily a million-dollar beauty. There was so much new construction in the area, but this place had five acres, a ton of wood and stone detail, and a four-car garage.
Really? Mr. Kitty was keeping this from them? Them?
He shook his head, but he was incredibly grateful there was a place for them to regroup.
“Hey, amigos.” Brock swept into the amazing leather-couched den and game room where Locke had taken them and set up triage for Kit and James.
“Hey, Brock. Nice house,” Dylan teased.
“Thanks. There’s room for everyone. I’ll even let you and Rey share.”
“Gee, you’re a prince.” Dylan made a face, which caused Brock to laugh.
“Does someone have a line on Carrie?” Dylan asked.
“We do. One of Locke’s guys is at her mom’s standing guard.”
“Mick, how did it go with the cops?” Dylan asked.
“They asked us to head out and come in individually in a day or so. They wanted to keep the shifter element as quiet as possible, and they already had a couple of dead crocs to explain.”
“We’ll start with the cleanup soon, too. I want to see what we can save.” Dylan hated that Mick’s building was down and out.
“I’ll help,” Rey murmured. “I feel so guilty.”
Dylan opened his mouth to protest, but Mick fixed Rey with a stern glare. “Nonsense. You hired us to do a job and we fucked up. We should have listened to you.”
“I—” Rey stopped protesting, then shrugged
. “Thanks, Mick. I swear, I was telling the truth. I’ll never just give warning for no reason.”
“I may be pigheaded, but I’ll trust you from now on.”
Brock snorted, and Dylan glared at him until he flushed. “Okay, I was wrong, okay? I’m sorry. I really am, Rey. No one needed to get hurt like this.”
“No. No, none of us did.” Rey met Brock’s gaze. “Not any of us.”
“No.” Brock looked at James, who was sedated and sleeping a healing sleep. “God.” He turned his back, but they all saw the expression that pulled at his face.
Rey sighed softly, then stood and went to Brock, giving the big bastard a hug.
Mick stared at them, then at him. “He’s a good guy.”
“Yeah, he is.” Dylan was so proud. “What about Patel?”
“Started screaming. Foaming. Monologued about killing Rey’s client because she was going to take the SIM card to the press and make a big thing.”
“He killed her? For that?” Dylan shook his head, but he felt Rey’s dull horror.
“He did. I’m sorry, Rey. Just remember, you didn’t do anything. The guy is a nutburger.” Mick just shook his head in patent amazement.
“Oh my goodness.” Rey shook his head. “She was a nice lady trying to get a job.”
“I’m sorry, Rey. Criminals like that….” Kit made a face too, a huge grimace.
Brock turned and gave Rey a hug back. “Sorry, doce.”
Rey looked panicked, utterly freaked, and Dylan vocalized softly, opening his arms. His mate disengaged from Brock and flew to him, hiding away with a soft noise. Poor love.
Dylan held Rey, rocking him.
“You guys need to go crash. Alone,” Kit said softly.
“Yeah, come on, I’ll show you a room,” Brock agreed.
“Thanks, man.” Dylan scooped Rey up under his arm. “Lead on.”
Brock led them upstairs, down the hall to the second room to the end on the right. The place had a seating area, a mini wet bar, and the bed on a platform at the end of the room.
“Spiffy.” Dylan approved. “Thanks, man. We appreciate it.”
“No problem. Yell if you need anything. There’s a house phone, and Griz will have someone monitoring it. Dial nine.”
“Dial nine. Rock on.” Dylan put Rey on the bed and followed Brock to the door, sparing a moment to wonder what Grizzly Locke and Brock had to do with one another. Probably none of his business. “Thanks, man.”
