by BA Tortuga
Brock nodded, digging out his wallet with one hand. “Call the cabins and rent us one.”
“Bossy fuzz ball.” He dialed away, though, because it was easy to follow orders when you wanted to.
“That’s me.” They flew down the mountain, passing through Cedaredge, then Eckert and Orchard Mesa before turning off at a bowling alley to drive into Delta.
They had a cabin for a week; soon there would be tacos. They’d kicked ass, freed a bear, and now “My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys” was on the radio. Life was pretty damn good.
15
Brock lay naked on the little porch of the cabin, swinging one foot down off the boards. Two days. They’d been in their little—private—mountain hideaway for two glorious days.
He might never move again.
Hell, the way Connor had torn his ass up, he may never be able to.
He grinned, turning his head to look at the big, beautiful bobcat who lay in a patch of sun about ten feet from the porch. They’d asked for the most remote cabin, just so no one spotted a kitty or wolf lurking around and freaked out.
Connor was basking, huge feet up in the air, belly exposed. That stubby tail plopped against the ground every so often, and his whiskers twitched.
Scratching his belly, Brock pondered. Water or beer? That was the eternal question. They also had some weird, fizzy ginger beer thing.
Beer. We have some in the fridge.
“You gonna go all human on me to have one too?” Brock spoke aloud, not willing to acknowledge the brain talk yet.
Absolutely. Connor rose and padded over to him. Then Connor stretched long and low, his claws digging into the wood on the porch.
“Cool.” Brock climbed to his feet and moved inside to grab two Coronas from the wee fridge.
Connor pounced on his ass, claws carefully held in.
“No fair when I’m holding the beer!” He bumped Connor with one hip.
Connor nuzzled his hip, furry cheek going smooth.
“Now, that’s more than fair.” He stroked Connor’s hair, the rough dreads so familiar now.
“I like it here, very much.” Connor nibbled his belly.
“Do you? ’Cause I gotta say, I’m a fan.” Connor was orally obsessed. The man could suck for hours.
“I do.” Connor licked and lapped, biting a little path all the way up.
Brock was just selfish enough to let Connor have this whenever he wanted. Of course, he did kinda feel like a dork standing there with a beer in each hand like a tree with longneck fruit.
Connor laughed for him, sucked one nipple for a second, then took his beer.
“Laugh, Ragbone, but I probably looked like an ass.”
“No, you have an ass, and a damn fine one.” Connor popped the top and lay back on one elbow.
“Do I? Not too fuzzy?”
“It’s nicely furry. Pettable.”
“Thanks.” Brock chuckled, sitting cross-legged on the floor again. “God, it’s pretty out here.”
“It is. Should we cook steaks tonight?”
“Heck yeah. We got stuff for the grill.” Every cabin had a little grill. The grates were all too low, but they’d raised it up with some flat rocks.
“Excellent.” Connor yawned, jaw cracking.
“Lazybones.” He got it. Brock wanted to sleep and snuggle and bask in the sun too.
“I rest when I can. I never know when I have to find something.”
“Does it wake you up in the middle of the night?” He had to admit, he was curious about Connor’s gift.
“Sometimes. I never know. It’s a tug in the pit of my belly. I was in Oregon when I heard you.”
“No shit?” Brock stared. “You just started driving?”
“I did. I was in Colorado before I knew I’d find you.”
“That’s some faith, babe.” He had no idea what to even say to that. Brock was methodical, following practical steps to a logical solution. Even their adrenaline-fueled bear rescue made sense. Momma bear needed to be released to her cubs, and that would never have happened if they’d waited.
“It’s how I roll.” Connor didn’t seem worried in the least.
“It’s crazy-making.” He took a long pull of his beer. “Kinda hot, though.”
“Story of my life.”
“Is it? What is the story? When did it happen the first time? How did you decide to follow it?”
Connor’s expression went dark—not a lot, but enough to notice it, enough that he knew he’d touched an old sore spot. “I was a kid. I followed this old man from a grocery store, and there were others, little boys. My father found me. He was like me, you know. He found things. He died a few years ago, in a cave-in.”
“Ouch.” God, that sucked. “Were you okay?” He would go kill anyone who hurt Connor.
“Oh, you know how we are—we land on our feet.” Connor moved closer, and he reached out to touch. “You’re the finest thing I ever found.”
“Thank you.” He tugged Connor into his lap. His beer was pretty much done.
“Just the truth.” The kiss liked to burn him to the ground.
Brock took it, then gave another. He simply couldn’t get enough of this man. That was dangerous. Ridiculous. Stupid.
Shh. I promise to take care of you. I found you.
How do you do that? Damn it, he was a lone wolf. Why did he want to just give in and be mates? They even worked well together.
I don’t know. And he wasn’t sure Connor worried about it either.
Brock just stretched Connor up right there on the porch, holding Connor’s hands up over his head as he gave more kisses. He didn’t want to think too hard right now.
Connor danced for him, wiggling and rocking on his lap. Making him nuts, his cock rising hard and hot between them.
“Sexy thing.”
Connor chuffed softly. “Not slinky like Sam, but I’m flexible and happy.”
“You’re perfect.” He nibbled his way along Connor’s chin and neck.
He hit a hot spot, and Connor jerked, head snapping back.
“Right there?” He teased it with his lips, then bit again.
“Right there. Fuck. Right there, Brock.”
Brock worried that spot, alternating licking and sucking with biting while he reached down. He stroked that fine cock, getting Connor revved up like his Mustang.
It was all too easy to learn to need this. Hell, if he was honest, it had become too easy a while ago. Brock went with it, closing his eyes and listening to Connor’s sounds, Connor’s need.
Brock panted, caught for a second in his thoughts, then he bit down, teeth sinking in and marking his—mate—lover.
Connor shouted, coming hard for him, hot and wet over his wrist. So fucking fine.
“Love that, how you smell.” Brock might be addicted to it.
“Good. It’s weird if you hate how someone smells.”
He lifted his hand to his mouth to lick it clean. “Love how you taste too.”
Connor’s purr vibrated all throughout him, rewarding him. Sweet, happy kitty. He took one more kiss, just because he could.
“I could do this with you for eons,” Connor whispered.
“I know.” He pressed his fingers to Connor’s lips. “Hush.”
Connor shot him a look but didn’t say another word, just kissed his fingertips.
He grinned and then stood, tugging Connor to standing as well. “Let’s go inside. I think I got splinters in my butt just now.”
“I’ll have to explore, check it out for you.”
“I think that’s a fantastic fucking idea.” They walked inside together, holding hands. As much as he loved it here with Connor, maybe it was time to get moving again tomorrow. Keep the wheels on the road.
“I’m full of them. Ideas.”
“I want to be full too, babe. Or I can fill you.” He wasn’t dying, but a lingering hardness told him he still needed to get off.
“I think I can figure something out for you, Fuzzy.
”
“I’m counting on it, Ragbone. Every time.”
16
Connor was waiting for the phone to ring. It would tell them to head east into the valley and up into the mountains. There was another bear caught, an important one. One they needed to find because….
He frowned and closed his eyes. Was it the bear? Was that what was important? A bear? Or something else.
Something east.
The phone would ring soon, and Brock would drive. East into the canyon, toward the mountains.
That was both good and bad. Brock was restless to get moving, scared of their bond. But the rescue would be danger—
The sound of Brock’s ringtone, which was “Ramblin’ Man,” sounded, and Brock sat up, hair in wild disarray. “Hello?”
Connor slipped out of bed and began to pack. Something was lost. Something needed to be found. Something to the east.
“Uh-huh. Yeah. So up toward Estes? I can be there in maybe four hours.”
Five with breakfast, he thought. He packed their food, moving quickly.
“Yeah? Three, at least? Okay. I’m on my way. Text me the coordinates so I can take the shortest route.” Brock hung up, grinning at him. “We got a job.”
“Good deal. More bears?”
“Yep. Same operation, different branch. These guys seem to be more organized.”
“Why do they want to do this?” He knew the answer, he did. Money. But how many people wanted dead bears?
“There’s a bigger market than you think for organs. The Asian medicine trade is huge. They think the three we’re going after today are slated for wildlife parks.”
“Three. Poor bears.”
“No shit.” They threw on clothes, moving fast. “Grab the toiletries, Connor.”
“Already done.”
“Good man.” Brock gave him a hard kiss. “We’ll grab some food on the way. There’s bound to be something in Mesa or Collbran.”
“Works for me.” He could go with the flow, since the flow was going the way he needed to. Who knew what would happen after that? Anticipating just got him bit in the ass.
God knew, he didn’t need that. Brock was nibbly enough.
Connor chuckled, and Brock mock glared at him. “No sex thoughts when we have to travel.”
He went for innocent. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No?” Brock popped his ass, not even hard enough to sting.
“Not a clue.” He grabbed the bags of food, leaving the backpacks for Brock.
Brock tossed the bags out on the porch, then disappeared back inside. The guy was careful about leaving no trace. When Brock reappeared, he held a bag of trash. They would stop at the dumpster when they checked out.
He packed everything in the truck, making sure they were secure. Their bags went into the toolbox, and he automatically inventoried the weapons.
“Everything good?”
He nodded. It was now that Brock had a sidearm of his own. Connor had fought for it, and damned if Brock hadn’t shelled out to replace the weapon he’d lost during that first bear rescue.
He didn’t feel the need to always be armed, but when it was necessary… well, it was necessary, dammit.
“Let’s hit it, Ragbone.” Brock hopped in the truck, grinning like a fool.
“East. Heading east. Stopping for bacon on the way, ho!”
“You know it.” Brock stopped for a few moments at the office and checked them out, then jumped back in and gunned it for the main road.
Time to find what they were looking for.
17
Brock pulled into the Mexican place in Estes and coasted to a parking place. “So, we’re meeting with a bear shifter. Danny Carruthers. I was working with his brother Tom when I was over by Crested Butte.” He wanted Connor to know this wasn’t Fish and Game. Bear shifters could be territorial and unpredictable.
Best to proceed cautiously.
“Cool. I like bears.” Connor wasn’t giving this the weight that it deserved.
“This isn’t like Darius at Fish and Game, babe. These guys can be grumpy. No flying by the seat of our pants.”
Connor nodded to him, but he wasn’t sure his bobcat was hearing him. Brock hoped so. The Fish and Game gig was a good deal, but Brock depended on guys like Tom and Danny for his living.
“I won’t embarrass you, Fuzzy.”
“Good man.” He gave up. His mate was what he was. They worked well together, damn it, and Connor was one of the good guys. Genuinely.
The place smelled damned fine. Not like Tex-Mex, but good. Once inside, it was easy to find Danny. Huge, fuzzy, and flannel-wearing.
Connor chuckled and walked right up to the man, holding out one hand. “Hello, Mr. Bear.”
Danny glanced at Brock, who shrugged. Then he shook Connor’s hand. “A cat, huh?”
“Indeed. Of the bobbed variety. How are you?”
“Pissed off. Not at you guys.” He waved them to sit.
“What’s the situation?” Brock asked.
“More fucking poachers. They seem to be trapping and gathering, though. Totally different MO.”
“Gathering? Are they stealing them?”
“Yeah. I mean, so far they’re holding three bears right outside the national park down on the Grand Lake side.”
Connor’s eyes flashed, and Brock touched his lover’s leg. Down boy. “That’s a drive, man. Do we have to go through the park?”
And why so close to the park? They had to know the rangers were right there and active as fuck.
“The easiest way is Trail Ridge, yeah. It’s Indian summer, so you can get across if you go early in the day and avoid storms.” Danny sighed. “The weird thing is there’s no urgency to move these three. It’s like they’re waiting. We need someone who’s not a damned bear to sniff around, see how to get these bears relocated, and find out what the hell the endgame is.”
“They know my face now, Dan.” Brock sighed, shook his head, and tried not to let his guilt show. “I had to scramble out of Crested Butte.”
“Tom said. I’m not asking you to try to get in with them. Just watch. Listen. As a wolf, you’re way less conspicuous than I am as a bear.”
“And I’m even smaller.”
Danny looked at Connor, one eyebrow lifting to his hairline. “Little one, you’re the definition of conspicuous.”
“He blends pretty well as a kitty,” Brock said. “He has the advantage of tree climbing. You let me worry about him.” Constantly.
“You’re the boss, I guess. I’m paying you for intel. That’s it. Unless the bears are in imminent danger, you don’t engage. I need to know what these guys want.”
“Got it. Last known area?”
Danny slid him a sticky note. “I got to go. You have my number. Tell Lila to put your meal on my tab, okay?”
“Hell, yes.” Free lupper? He was on it.
“Good deal. Keep me informed. I don’t need these small guys, Brock. I need the boss. I need to know who it is. This is my territory.”
“They’re all over Colorado, buddy. We need to shut them down. I’m on it.”
Connor watched them, and then one hand shot out and wrapped around Danny’s thick wrist like a cuff. “I’ll find her. Don’t worry.”
“What? What the fuck?”
“You’ll know.” Those mismatched eyes glowed for a moment.
Danny pulled away, scowling. “I don’t know what the hell this guy is up to, Brock, but don’t let him get in the way. Call me when you have something.” Danny turned on his heel and stomped away.
“Connor! For fuck’s sake. Stop that shit.” These guys paid his bills, and Brock needed them to have faith in his abilities.
“I can’t.”
“What is it? What do you see or whatever?” Brock tried to understand Connor’s gift. He did.
“I don’t. I don’t see anything. I just know.” Connor shrugged for him, but the man didn’t look a bit sorry. “It’s like an electric shoc
k to the back of your neck. It started last night late. We’re going the right way.”
“What if we weren’t?”
A waitress brought them fresh chips and salsa. “What to drink, guys?”
“Iced tea, please, ma’am. Your car keys are in the cash register under the five-dollar bills. The bus boy is playing a trick.”
She blinked at Connor. Then she glanced at Brock.
“Iced tea. He just knows shit. I’d look.”
“Okay.” She shrugged and hurried away.
“A hundred and fifty years ago they would have burned you at the stake,” Brock murmured.
“If they knew I was a bobcat, lots of people would do worse now. They’d want to run experiments.”
“Shit, yes. We’d all be fucked.” He worried about that a lot. There was so little space in the world now. So few places for a pack to find peace. That was why Brock was a loner.
“So what’s one more weirdness? Why is it so different? No one questions that I get fuzzy. Why is the finding weird?” Connor stared him down. And you’re not alone anymore.
Hush. He grinned. “It’s weird because you’re the only finder I’ve ever met. Shifters are shifters, but psychics are in books, babe. I don’t make the rules.”
“No. Neither do I.”
Like Connor had ever once considered the rules. He blew through them like they were nothing.
“Carne asada tacos,” Brock said when Lila returned, keys clipped to her apron. “The plate, please.”
“Chicken enchiladas with extra sour cream.”
“You got it, boys. On the house for finding my keys.” She beamed at them and murmured something to Connor in Spanish. Sounded like a blessing to Brock.
Connor grinned at her and dipped his chin, obviously tickled.
She hustled off, and Brock grabbed a napkin before tugging a pen out of his pocket. “Okay, so if I remember Grand Lake, the camp is roughly here.” He began drawing a map. “Pretty isolated, but lots of trees on that side of the lake.”
“I’m good at trees. You’re better on the ground where you can smell.” Yeah, Connor’s sight was like an eagle’s, and those huge tufted ears caught the slightest sound.
