Bad, Dad, and Dangerous

by Rhys Ford

“Maybe because you turned your phone off? Or it’s set to only answer for the kid? Who knows?” Kawika nodded a hello to Joe and Nana, giving them a quick smile. “He wants to meet with you tomorrow. Says there’s been a misunderstanding.”

  “He’s trying to cover his own ass. That’s what it is.” Pursing his mouth, Keller paced a few strides, then shook his head. “Probably worried I’m going to judge against him and not hear both sides out on Friday. Handing the whole territory to the Vikings would mean his club will have to find someplace else to squat, and so far, no one up or down the coast is going to give them room. This was their last chance. So either the guy tonight crawled back to Reilly with his tail literally tucked in and told him he screwed up, or Reilly sent him. Either way, it doesn’t look good.”

  “Better coming up and admitting his guy did something than pretending he didn’t know.” The kahuna shrugged. “He said he’ll call you tomorrow around noon. Didn’t ask about the jacket or tell me what he wanted to talk to you about, but that’s got to be it. Unless he’s going to try to frame the Vikings.”

  “Yeah, thing is, I smelled and saw coyote.” Keller chuckled, tapping his nose. “I’m not some old blind wolf dialing this in, here. That kind of dance doesn’t cut it at St. Con’s. Let’s see what Reilly says and go from there.”

  “Fair,” Kawika agreed in a quiet voice. “Okay, heading home now. This kanaka is tired.”

  “This old lady’s tired too,” Nana announced, yawning widely. “I’m getting too old for these early-morning emergencies. I need to get some sleep, and Joey here is probably going to keep you up all night asking questions. Kawika, can you give me a ride home so I can go back to bed, if you don’t mind.”

  “No worries, auntie,” the huge man assured her. “Whenever you want to go.”

  “Now is good.” She stood up, stretching slowly with a hand at her lower back.

  “I can take you home, Nana,” Joe murmured.

  “No, you stay. I’ll be fine. Trust me when I tell you no one in our neighborhood’s going to mess with me.” She eyed Keller, who’d gotten to his feet as well. “I don’t want him driving just yet. I’m going to leave him here with you, because his mouth is going to be going for hours, and I love him—he’s my favorite—but if I have to listen to him asking me why like he did when he was three, I’m going to give him a knock on his head that’s going to make the one he got earlier look like a love bite.”

  “He can stay,” Keller agreed. “Probably better anyway. He can ask some questions, and then I can get some sleep. The next few days are going to be long ones for me.”

  “Nana, seriously,” Joe protested. “I can take you home.”

  “No, no. You stay and let Levi here fill you in, because I know you, you’re going to stick that nose of yours into this because you can’t help it,” Nana said, patting his shoulder. “Now, if you’re good, Levi here will show you exactly why I come to St. Con’s with the girls every week, and it sure as hell isn’t for the beer.”

  Seven

  “OH GOD. Sweet Jesus in heaven, what are you doing to me?” Joe moaned, his eyes closed in rapturous wonder. “How the hell am I going to ever go back to my life without… fucking hell… damn, you’re good.”

  The low rumbling sounds pouring from Joe’s parted lips aroused something silken and dark in Levi’s belly, and he smiled, reveling in the pleasure he brought to Joe’s mouth. There was nothing more passionate than hearing the erotic groans of satisfaction rising in pitch and the nearly imperceptible widening of a man’s pupils when he could no longer take any more of what Levi had to dish out.

  “Shit, I’ve got to slow down or I’m just going to pass out,” Joe murmured, reluctantly putting his sucked-clean spoon back into the bowl of ice cream Levi handed him a few moments before. “Seriously, this is better than sex.”

  “Trust me when I tell you I have better sex than I make ice cream,” Levi replied, grinning at the red stain creeping across Joe’s face.

  It was great teasing a cop, and with his guard down, Joe was simply adorable. The man’s infectious laugh and easy smile had been hidden behind his star—an impenetrable shield, focused on his commitment to the law—but the guy behind that exterior possessed a warmth Levi felt down into his belly.

  And past that as well.

  It’d been too long since he’d spent time with a guy for anything other than a hookup or passing time with a friend, and he was beginning to wonder if the strega’s grandson was someone he could maybe fold into his life. They shared the same interests—a love for the Cubs and an intense hatred for dry chicken, as well as, apparently, Joe’s love for ice cream.

  He could get used to seeing a guy who loved ice cream, especially since his own son was now beginning to refuse to taste some of the more wacky things he churned up in their kitchen.

  “What am I eating? Exactly?” Joe dipped his spoon into the melting creamy mound, easing through the swirls cut into the rich vanilla-bean-speckled mixture. “I taste the chocolate, and there’s… orange? I mean, it’s awesome, but what is it?”

  “French vanilla bean base with Grand Marnier caramel swirls and dark chocolate ribbons. The chopped-up roasted mac nuts have to be added after you scoop it out or it gets all gummy,” Levi explained, pleased at the rolling deep moan Joe made while sucking another bite off his spoon. “Also, some people have nut allergies, so they can do without the brittle part. I like using crushed-up won ton pi chips too, but I don’t have any up here. Either one will give you that sweet, salty crunch afterward. One of my better efforts.”

  “Thought about putting it in stores?” Joe opened his eyes wide enough to give Levi a longing look. “Because this needs to be in my freezer all the time. ’Course I’ll have to jog every day to get it off my stomach, but that’ll be worth it. Damn, this is good.”

  “No stores. This isn’t… work,” he replied, swirling his spoon into the slurry forming at the edge of his bowl. “It’s kind of like my downtime stuff. My mad-scientist time. I build motorcycles back up and make ice cream flavors. The pub and Declan are a lot of work. Don’t get me wrong, wouldn’t trade the kid or St. Con’s for anything, but I need something to lose my head into. And it’s kind of cool to have something to show for it after.”

  “What’s it called?” The sound of his spoon hitting ceramic brought a frown to Joe’s face, and Levi laughed at his heavy sigh. “Hey, remember most of the time, my life is full of microwave burritos and leftovers I can beg off my mom. The cooking gene flew past me, but I can grill the hell out of a chicken. Homemade ice cream is way out of my league.”

  “This is number forty-two.” Joe’s eyebrows rose, and Levi explained. “I number them when I come up with the idea of what goes into them. After I shake out the bugs or add them—don’t look at me like that, you haven’t tasted the candied apple and caramel ant ice cream yet—I finalize out the recipe and enter it into the ice cream book. Most of them go on sale downstairs. We make a few batches. You can grab a pint of whatever’s on the board.”

  “I thought those were beers,” Joe confessed. “Makes more sense now. Couldn’t figure out why the hell anyone wanted a mango and li hing mui creamy ale. Okay, so now that my headache’s gone and I’m sugared up, want to shed some light on… well, shit, everything? Because I don’t even know where to start, and I know it’s late but—”

  “Brain’s probably going to be too busy to sleep,” Levi said softly. “Here. Give me your bowl and I’ll get us some water. So long as I get at least four hours in, I’ll be okay. Kawika’s probably going to kiss your feet for getting him out of taking a run through the park tomorrow. I’ll text and tell him he can sleep in.”

  “You run every morning?” Joe craned his neck to watch Levi stride to the kitchen, wincing when he turned his head too far. “Damn, I thought it was better, but it still hurts a little bit.”

  “Yeah, stregas… well, any kind of witch… can’t heal everything, but they sort of manipulate the body to motivate healing. From what I un
derstand. Sometimes the old girls your grandmother runs with start talking, and I’m all, well, that’s nothing I need to know about. I try to keep out of witch business. Safer that way.” Levi handed Joe one of the frosted-over water bottles he’d gotten from his fridge. Then he sat down. “I don’t run every morning, but sometimes I can con Kawika to go up with me to one of the bigger parks so I can do a good run. Problem is, that man’s built for a long hard sprint. Fast as fuck, but only good for about maybe sixty or seventy yards.”

  “You don’t like running alone?” Joe cracked open the bottle, twisting the cap around as he spoke.

  “People tend to panic when they see what looks like a large black dog running through a park. Especially when the dog’s almost two hundred pounds and doesn’t have a collar.” He took a sip, chuckling at Joe’s sputter. “And no, I’m not wearing a collar. Running in human form isn’t as satisfying, and I burn more energy as a wolf. Works off all the tension I’ve got building up from raising a teenaged boy with a curious mind and a reckless nature. I live for the day when I don’t get a weekly call from the school about something he’s gotten into. The pub’s easier to run, but like my dad says—you get the kid you were, and I don’t think the end of his tail ever got its hair back.”

  LEVI KELLER was going to be the death of him. Joe was sure of it. Maybe it was the hit on the head or perhaps the residual alcohol fumes folded into the ice cream, but there was no arguing the pub owner was hitting all of Joe’s buttons, including a few he didn’t even know he had.

  Barefoot and dressed in low-slung old jeans and a ratty T-shirt, the man shouldn’t have been sexy, but there was something about his boneless sprawl into the corner of the sectional couch that made Joe grateful for the cooling hit of potent ice cream lingering in his mouth. The stretch of his muscles along his long arms and thighs was bad enough, but the sneak peeks of Levi’s lean stomach, with its faint whorl of soft hair below the dip of his belly button, were killing Joe.

  His insouciant grace when tilting his head back to drink a sip of water led Joe to naughty places, wondering how the rasp of Levi’s tongue against the inside of his thighs would feel in the middle of the night or if that long lean throat would reverberate when he gasped during sex. Shaking his head, Joe cursed his grandmother for leaving him and wondered if he could still find a ride home, not trusting his hands on the steering wheel when he was obviously rattled.

  “Gotta admit, you’re my first human to deal with finding out about all of us.” Levi licked at a drop of water on his lower lip, the liquid trembling until his tongue swept it away. “There’s conflicting ways to handle something like being seen, but a lot of them are kind of old-school.”

  “Like what?” Joe shifted on the couch, stretching out his legs. His head was beginning to hurt again, a softer throb instead of the pounding through-the-bone spikes from before, but it was manageable.

  “Well, a lot of older instructions pretty much said kill the human and bury its body, but that was back when torches and pitchforks were all the rage,” Levi said with a smile that was probably meant to soothe Joe’s nerves but did more to rattle them, especially when a deep dimple appeared alongside the smirk. “I’m leaning toward the option of ‘no one would believe you anyway and your grandmother would kick your ass if you said anything.’ A hell of a lot easier than starting a whisper campaign that you’re nuts. That was a big one too, but once it got out of hand in Salem, I think a lot of us Peacekeepers try to avoid it.”

  “Nana said that. Peacekeeper.” Joe sifted through what he recalled his grandmother said before she left. “I’m going to guess you’re some kind of cop.”

  “Sort of,” he murmured in agreement. “No gun, and it’s kind of a loose association. Not like we have an academy. Usually it’s the owner of a business or area where people like me and Toni can meet to hammer things out. Believe it or not, you don’t want a war between shifter families or covens rolling out into the street. Bad shit happens, and there’s no way anyone will be able to hide from that. And yeah, we like hiding. Means we don’t get cut up and examined. I’m big on that. I like my insides to stay right where they are, and I’ll fucking kill anyone who comes for my kid.”

  The passion in Levi’s words ran hot and strong. His eyes were fluid, rolling with gold-and-green fire in their warm hazel depths. Joe held up his hands, offering a tacit surrender. “I believe you. I did my time in a patrol car. I know what people can do to each other, especially when there’s no one watching.”

  “Sorry. I have a few soapboxes.” Levi let out a long hiss, a slightly bashful expression on his face. “Let me hit the salient points. We don’t have a central government. Anyone can become a Peacekeeper, but you have to apprentice with one and learn the ropes. And I’m both cop and judge. I provide a place for people to talk things out, but I’m also the guy they come to when a decision has to be made about something. Usually that’s territory. I’m one of the younger Peacekeepers I know of, but I’ve got a pretty decent track record. Both sides of the argument have to agree on who they want to hear them out, but it’s got to be someone within a few hundred miles of where they are. So, like you can’t have someone in New York make a decision in California.”

  “So the Vikings and Los Lobos wanted you, then?” Joe took a stab in the dark, hoping to punch through the fog surrounding the motorcycle gang’s return. “Because I’d gotten the Vikings out of the city. Now they’re back, and I’m worried they’re going to bring their shit back with them.”

  “They’re only here for Friday’s meeting, and I was wondering how long it would take you to circle back around to the bikers.” Levi laughed. “The Lobos are edging into the Vikings’ territory. Don’t know if there’s drugs or anything else involved. If there are, they know I’ll shut them down if they bring it here, so they’ll be on their best behavior. We try to police our own, and they’ve got a lot of mundanes—humans—running with them, but when it’s all said and done, we’re just people. Some are lawyers and doctors, others are criminals and thieves. We follow the laws in the places we live in. We’re not above it.”

  “Does that best behavior include that coyote attacking us tonight?” Joe asked. “Because I don’t know where he was raised, but that’s not good manners where I come from.”

  “That’s what the Los Lobos leader wants to smooth over with me.” Levi ran his fingers through his dark hair, pulling it back from his face. “He can’t deny it was one of his. We’ve got the guy’s colors, but he might try to say it was someone from the Vikings hoping to get the Lobos kicked out of the talk. That happens, and the Vikings win their argument by default. Thing is, the Vikings don’t have any coyote running with them, and any shifters they have are family. None of them are canids.”

  “What are they?” Joe cocked his head, trying to ignore the rush of something warm moving through him when Levi stretched his arms up over his head and he spied another peek at the man’s belly. “Unless you can’t tell me.”

  “Bears. Well, not really bears so much as pandas,” Levi replied, dropping his arms back down. “Came over with other Chinese immigrants during the railroad-building days. Most Ursidae are on the larger side, so they’re pretty beefy in either form, and the pandas are usually right up there. Most of the Lobos are smaller—a mixture of coyote and whatever else they can get to follow them. A lot more shifters in that club and held together by Reilly, their leader. So, if someone went rogue from his group, then he’s got cracks around his seams, not something he needs right now. If he can’t show a steady, stabilizing presence, then he’s got no business claiming space.”

  “Okay, the fact that I’ve spent more than a few years chasing pandas out of San Francisco is blowing my mind. But why do they come to you? I mean, most clubs just fight it out. Whoever is left standing wins the area,” Joe pointed out. “It’s why we try to shut them down. No one wants that kind of violence in their city. Not to mention everything else they bring with them.”

  “Groups get established in an
area and claim territory. Basically they’re saying they are the dominant circle, and anything bad that happens, it’s up to them to self-police.” Levi crossed his long legs under him. He picked at a split along his right knee, pulling at the white threads. “Los Lobos want the right to police themselves, and the Vikings are saying they shouldn’t, because they’re not capable of staying under the radar. What happened tonight kind of proves that. But that’s only if whoever that was actually is a part of Reilly’s group.

  “We run things by a kind of agreement system,” he explained in a soft voice. “Break the agreements and the rest of us turn against you. Our sole focus is to keep our secrets, and that means staying deep under the radar. For the most part, the Vikings have been cleaning themselves up, but there’s still issues. One wrong move on their part and that whole torches-and-pitchforks idea gets revisited. Like I said, we police our own.”

  “So this kind of all rests on you deciding if the Lobos can have their own territory, but that carves out some of the Vikings’ area.” Joe sat back, fitting the pieces of the puzzle together. “And if they refuse to abide by what you decide, they open themselves up to a major ass-kicking.”

  “Pretty much.” Levi nodded. “It’s really not that complicated, and there’s enough room up there for both of them, but Los Lobos moving into the Vikings’ territory means conflict and not just being on the wrong side of the law. I don’t care if someone’s growing acres of pot. I don’t have to. It’s legal now, and it’s not my job to make sure everyone pays taxes or has the right permits.”

  “What if it’s heroin or something worse?”

  “If they’re running heroin and someone has evidence of it, I’d turn it over to the cops because that’s also not my job. It’s what the police are for. We are bound by the laws of the land, Joe. We pay taxes and vote, or we should. Anything connected to the mundane world is out of my jurisdiction,” Levi continued. “But if someone’s pushing into an area and making it difficult for another group to be who they are, then I get called in. Los Lobos want the right to decide consequences for the actions of their group, and the Vikings want to make sure the Lobos stay on their side of the river so they can do whatever it is that pandas do in the woods. You’ve got conflicting shifter cultures here, and ones that don’t work well together. I’m here to prevent that from flaring up. That’s all.”