Stalking the Firedawg

by Keely Jakes

  Teddy watched Griffin’s eyes slide closed again. Roane stood, and the brothers returned to the living room. Roane went into the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. Opening it, he drank half before he sat on the couch with a heavy sigh.

  “Well?” Teddy asked, breaking the tense silence. “Should we take him to the hospital or call the cops or what?”

  Roane stared across the room for several minutes. Finally, he blinked and shook himself, like a dog having come out of a pond. “You need to pack for you and Griffin. Everything you’ll need for the next couple of months. We’ll leave as soon as you’re finished.”

  “What the fuck, Roane? What’s going on?”

  Roane locked gazes with his brother. “We don’t have time to debate this. If the man is who I think he is, you’re both in danger. You’ll come back to Paladin with me. The team will keep you safe while General Andrews finds out exactly who this Doctor Pain is.”

  “Your team?”

  “Yes, little brother. My team. Who are all like me. We’ll take good care of you. Now get moving,” Roane said, hoping his half-brother would get the hint without him saying anything further.

  Teddy had known Roane was a shifter from the time he was in kindergarten and Roane had entered puberty and shifted for the first time, but they never spoke about it after their parents sat them down and had a long discussion with the two of them about the family secrets. They had not spoken about Roane’s differentness since.

  ****

  “Where is he?” asked Emory Blankenship, known to his subjects as Doctor Pain. The man had foolishly helped his last boy escape then tried to disappear himself. Only he hadn’t been smart enough to not leave an electronic trail that had led him straight to the motel they were currently in.

  The man shook his head, unable to speak for the cloth shoved into his mouth to keep him from disturbing the neighbors. Five more lashes with the whip, each of which left long lines of bloody cuts along the man’s back, left Emory feeling only slightly better. The screams were muffled, but still audible and added to his growing euphoria. Beating on someone always left him with an indescribable high. Too bad the government had forced his retirement when he’d begun using his interrogation techniques on men who weren’t suspected of anything. But then the government leaders were a bunch of pansies, just like the rest of polite society.

  Emory waited until the man relaxed before leaning down until they were nose to nose. “I can keep this up all night, you know that. Question is, will you be able to survive? All you have to do is tell me where you took my pet and I’ll stop.”

  He watched as the man took a deep breath as he resigned himself to the reality of his situation. Finally, he nodded.

  Emory pulled the wet cloth from his mouth then reached around and pulled free the switchblade he kept in his back pocket. “Talk,” he ordered as he flicked the blade open.

  “I dropped him off in front of his apartment building,” the guard panted. “I warned him he needed to get out of town as soon as possible.”

  Emory nodded with a grim smile. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? You could have avoided all this if you had just cooperated sooner.”

  With that, he stood and pulled the man’s head to the side at the same time he sliced the razor sharp blade across the side of the man’s neck. The deep cut severed the carotid, which pulsed red blood out onto the bed. The four men holding him down shifted to keep from getting any blood on them as the man began to thrash against their hold. But they had all worked for Doctor Pain long enough to know not to give the man any reasons to turn his sadistic tendencies in their direction.

  Once the man bled out, they released him. Covering the body with a spare blanket from the closet, they turned off the door and hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the doorknob on their way out.

  No one spoke until they were back in the SUV and driving back toward Chicago. “Find my whipping boy before I choose one of you to replace him.”

  ****

  “Fuck me sideways,” Jack Bailey murmured when he caught sight of the man who had just stepped into his bar. His cock leapt to full, erect, painful attention in two seconds, causing his jeans to pinch.

  “Later, hot stuff. Talk to me after closing time,” replied Oliver “Twist” Charles, his best friend and partner for the last five years. They were partners in the military, in the bar, and in life. Twist patted his ass affectionately as he stepped behind Jack on the way to the cash register.

  “No, check out what just walked in,” Jack said.

  He casually reached down and shifted his cock into a more comfortable position though there still was not as much room as his long, thick cock needed. When Twist glanced around the room then looked back to him, Jack gave a nod toward the front door. Said hottie remained just inside the door, looking around and taking it all in.

  He looked serious and overwhelmed and something else, but Jack could not put his finger on what. Jack wondered what brought him to Paladin.

  Jack and Twist were two of the seven former military members who had made the news not too long ago for being the sole winners of an over five-hundred-million-dollar lottery. After taking the lump sum option and paying the taxes, they were still more than a hundred million dollars richer. What the world didn’t know was they were gay, shape-shifting wolves who had formed their own pack while in the Marines, and even before their lottery win, had decided to move to Montana.

  Since none of them cared about status or wealth as long as they stuck together, they bought a ghost town and two thousand acres in the wilds of Montana. They were rebuilding the town one building at a time, using it as a sanctuary where they could recover from the physical and mental wounds they had received in the military. The fact that two men had found their mates gave Jack hope he and Twist would one day as well.

  Twisted Jack’s Pub, which included a bar and restaurant that kept them fed, had been the second building to be renovated after the hotel. Jack and Twist had taken on the positions of co-managers and bartenders. Forrest Bell was head cook, and the rest of the team rotated the duties of assisting in both the kitchen and bar.

  Returning his attention to the man across the bar, Jack had a vision of the ginger-haired, freckle-faced, white boy all ruffled, sweaty, and plastered between him and Twist after the bar closed. With his deep tan and Twist’s coffee with a touch of cream mocha tint, they would make one hell of a ginger cream-filled sex sandwich.

  “Holy sex on a stick,” Twist whispered when he finally figured out which man was the object of Jack’s lust.

  Jack glanced over and down. His partner’s painted-on black jeans bulged with the man’s erection in two point three seconds. Obviously, Twist agreed there was something special about the man who now approached the bar at a turtle’s pace.

  Only then did Jack realize the man was not alone. There was an equally cute, brown-haired beauty, who did absolutely nothing for him, walking arm and arm with his redhead. Roane followed the two into the bar, but got stopped by their team leader and pack alpha, Shane Thomas, near the door.

  Shifting his gaze back to the ginger-haired man, Jack’s cock throbbed as he sauntered to the end of the bar where the two men stopped. His cutie was leaning heavily against the counter and sweating as if he had run a marathon though it was barely thirty degrees outside.

  “Good evening. What can I get you gentlemen tonight?” Jack asked as he wiped the spotless bar before setting down two thick paper coasters.

  Jack couldn’t tear his gaze from the redhead. Bright, pain-filled blue eyes met his for a second then looked away. When they returned, the gaze held for a few more seconds before the smaller man dropped his eyes to study the shine on the bar.

  Jack looked him up and down, frowning at the lines of discolored skin he could see around the man’s right wrist at the edge of the long-sleeve, celery green t-shirt he wore. A check of his left arm showed the same marks. Grabbing the little man’s right hand, he shoved the sleeve to the man’s elbow.


  Bruises covered his man’s arm from the wrist to his elbow. Evenly spaced stripes of black, blue, and purple mixed with what looked like handprints wrapped around his arm. Jack recognized the bruise pattern from his time in several war zones over the past ten years. Someone had systematically tortured this man.

  “What the fuck? Who did this to you, baby?” he demanded.

  “Jack, I’d like you to meet my brother’s roommate, Griffin Bowers,” Roane said as he joined them at the bar. “And my brother, Teddy Jackson.”

  Jack looked at Roane as the man’s words sank in. This was the friend of his brother that Roane had called them about yesterday. The one who had been injured by a sadistic, kidnapping asshole calling himself Doctor Pain.

  But to him, this man was more. Griffin was everything. Griffin was his life, his soul, his reason for being.

  Griffin Bowers was his mate.

  He only hoped Twist felt the same way.

  The pretty redhead looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. Though he tried to pull his hand from Jack’s grasp, Jack refused to release him. He liked touching his mate’s skin. Though ice cold, it was soft and surprisingly smooth considering the damage he had seen on the man’s arm.

  He looked down the bar to where Twist was pulling draft beers for Lucky and Kris. “Twist, get over here and look at this,” he ordered.

  His tone was a somewhat softened, though more intense version of the one he had used when the team had spent two years training foreign government troops.

  “May I please have my hand back?” the cutie asked as he shoved his sleeve down his arm once more.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Jack said as Twist sidled up next to him.

  “Whazzup?” Twist asked.

  “Check this out,” Jack said, shoving the man’s sleeve up his arm once more.

  “Holy shit,” Twist said. “Who do we have to kill, sweetheart?”

  End of sample chapter

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