Grave Peril

by Lynn Hagen

  

  Maple Grove 23

  Grave Peril

  [Siren Publishing: The Lynn Hagen ManLove Collection: Erotic Romance, Contemporary, ManLove, Alternative, Paranormal, Shape-shifters, Romantic Suspense, MM, HEA]

  Richie was on Braydon’s side when it came to the trouble he’d been in. He was right there for Braydon, until he met the guy his brother hated. Cannon was undercover, trying to take Vela Davila down, and had held a gun to Braydon. Richie should hate the cop, too. But did Cannon have to be so damn sexy? That made it hard to hate the guy, and even harder to resist him.

  For the first time since Cannon could recall, he’s on vacation. Instead of going to see his father, he steered his Jeep toward Maple Grove. As if he hadn’t had enough of the town in his last visit. But he knew he’d made the right call when he ran into his mate, which happened to be the brother of the man who hated him. Cannon is determined to win Richie over, but fate has other plans. One of the corrupt cops he put away has escaped, and he’s gunning for Cannon.

  Length: 34,000 words

  GRAVE PERIL

  Maple Grove 23

  Lynn Hagen

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  Grave Peril

  Copyright © 2020 by Lynn Hagen

  ISBN: 978-1-64637-179-2

  First Publication: June 2020

  Cover design by Emma Nicole

  All art and logo copyright © 2020 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book or print book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at legal@sirenbookstrand.com

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lynn Hagen loves writing about the somewhat flawed, but lovable. She also loves a hero who can see past all the rough edges to find the shining diamond of a beautiful heart.

  You can find her on any given day curled up with her laptop and a cup of hot java, letting the next set of characters tell their story.

  For all titles by Lynn Hagen, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/lynn-hagen

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  GRAVE PERIL

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  GRAVE PERIL

  Maple Grove 23

  LYNN HAGEN

  Copyright © 2020

  Chapter One

  Detective Cannon Treynor was glad the trial was over and he’d had Vela Davila locked away for life. But he knew he’d made a lot of enemies from arresting and testifying against such a powerful, corrupt man. Broken business deals and lost wages would make people move on, but some would want revenge for what Cannon had done.

  That was why he was getting away for a while, laying low until the whole mess was forgotten. Cannon had worked undercover for five years to take Davila down and had nearly lost everything when some human had stolen the thumb drive from the law firm where Cannon had been collecting his evidence.

  To be fair, Braydon hadn’t technically stolen it. Davila had suspected a mole and had found out about the law firm—which hadn’t really been a law firm but a group of people who worked with the task force to maintain whatever information Cannon had given them on Davila. Recordings of deals, evidence from multiple murders, paperwork he’d stolen and made copies of, anything Cannon could get his hands on to put Davila away for life.

  And Davila had hired thugs to wipe out the computers at the firm, only they’d made a copy of the files for leverage. When they’d left the law firm, they’d dropped the thumb drive, and Braydon had swiped it before running for his life.

  Cannon drove down the long stretch of highway, top off his Jeep, the wind in his hair, sunglasses on, enjoying the fact that he was no longer undercover and thankful for the reprieve. He’d planned on heading to Montana where his father had a ranch. Cannon loved the open skies and glittering stars at night, but for some insane reason, he’d pointed the nose of his Jeep toward Maple Grove.

  Maybe it was the guilt that he’d held a gun to Braydon in order to get the thumb drive he’d desperately needed for his case. Maybe he’d enjoyed the small town and wouldn’t mind exploring it further. Whatever the reason, Cannon was looking forward to his time off before he was pulled back in and sent somewhere else to go undercover and infiltrate whatever organization needed to be taken down.

  A whole month. Cannon wasn’t sure he would know what to do with himself. He might just spend a week in Maple Grove then go to Montana. It had been forever since he’d seen his old man, and although they were like oil and water, Cannon was all about family, shitty one or not.

  They hadn’t gotten along since Cannon’s mother died. His father had closed himself off, stricken with grief over the loss of his mate. But in doing so, he’d also closed himself off from Cannon, leaving him to deal with his mother’s death on his own.

  As a kid, that hadn’t been easy. Cannon had needed his father in the most traumatic time in his life, and his dad hadn’t been there for him. He guessed that was why he went undercover all the time, taking on a new identity, becoming someone else.

  A persona that didn’t have such a tragic backstory, at least not a real one, which still cut him raw even to this day. Cannon pressed his hand against his chest and rubbed the spot that felt heavy. He hated when those thoughts brought his mood down.

  He spotted the sign up ahead for Maple Grove. He’d seen a motel on the outskirts of town the last time he’d been there, so Cannon followed the signs and pulled into a parking spot.

  Once he was checked in and given one of those keycards, Cannon jumped back into his ride and headed into town. He was starving after driving most of the day, stopping only to stretch and fuel. Gas station snacks went only so far, and now his stomach was growling like it was fighting its way out.

  Cannon was also restless, not ready to go to his room and sit around. He needed to let his panther out, but that’d have to wait until dark, which, being the middle of summer, wouldn’t be for two more hours. He also thought his restlessness came from the trial, finally having all that shit over and itching to cut loose. Cannon didn’t have to pretend to be anyone else, watch what he said, or always look over his shoulder.

  Not for the next four weeks. He could be himself, Cannon Treynor, ordinary guy who took life easy and loved to laugh.

  Or at least tried to.

  He spotted a diner to his right and pulled into the slotted parking space, cutting off the engine and sitting there for a moment, soaking everything in.

  The fading sun, the smell of the summer breeze, the birds chirping, and his blood pressure falling. Cannon leaned his head back and closed his eyes, inhaling the freedom to be himself for a short while.

  “You!”

  Well, that didn’t last too long. Cannon opened his eyes and spotted Bra
ydon. The redhead looked furiously at him with pinched lips and narrowed blue eyes, like a volcano ready to explode. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Not trying to run into you.” Cannon sat up and stared at the guy with Braydon. They had to be related. Both had that fiery red hair and spatters of freckles over their noses and cheeks. Both had those diamond blue eyes, too. The color reminded Cannon of the sky on a cloudless day.

  But it wasn’t Braydon Cannon was paying any attention to. It was his brother…cousin…however they were related. The two looked alike, but the one Cannon didn’t know had softer features, and his eyes were bemused and vivid.

  Cannon got out and stepped onto the sidewalk, ignoring Braydon’s death stare as he held his hand out to the other guy. “Cannon Treynor.”

  “I thought it was Boyd,” Braydon said with a slight sneer.

  “You know damn well that was my undercover alias. I’m pretty sure you followed the trial closely.”

  Braydon blushed, as if he were embarrassed that Cannon was right.

  “Cosmo,” the other guy said as he shook Cannon’s hand.

  “His real name is Richie,” Braydon said. “But that doesn’t matter because you’re going to stay away from both of us.”

  Richie glared at Braydon. “Cockblock much?”

  “Oh, hell no,” Braydon said. “You’re not interested in him.” He shoved a finger at Cannon. “He held a gun to me, pretended to be a bad guy, and scared ten years off my life.”

  Cannon released Richie’s hand and shoved his own into his front pockets, enjoying the bickering while checking Richie out. The little human had a spark inside of him that Cannon found hot as fuck.

  “We’re heading into the diner for dinner.” Richie looked at Cannon. “You can join us.” He batted those thick eyelashes at him, and damn if Cannon didn’t want to do whatever the guy asked. He didn’t even care if Richie noticed the open gaze that Cannon swept over him, the hunger he knew was in his eyes. It had been awhile since Cannon had gotten laid, and this little firecracker was right up his alley.

  “Just as long as I can have you for dessert.” Cannon held the door open.

  Richie blushed and snickered. It was the most adorable sound Cannon had ever heard. “You’re so bad.”

  “I’m gonna throw up,” Braydon grumbled as he shot daggers at Cannon. “Are you always this fast when you meet a guy?” He wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes. “Pump the brakes, buddy. You’re not scoring with my brother.”

  Richie shoved at Braydon’s shoulder. “I’m old enough to say yes to whomever I want.” He turned to Cannon. “But Braydon’s right. I don’t even know you.”

  A fact Cannon wanted to change. “We introduced ourselves. Now we know each other,” he teased. He was just having fun, but in the end, if that got him laid, no harm done.

  Richie looked as if he didn’t want to say no, either. He kept giving Cannon heated glances as they found a booth and sat. The little firecracker’s gaze kept flickering over Cannon with lingering heat.

  Braydon rolled his eyes. “Now I’ve lost my appetite. Will you two stop looking at each other like you want to fuck on the table?”

  Richie punched Braydon’s arm. “And you say I have an uncensored mouth. That was rude and embarrassing.”

  “Sorry.” Braydon looked away, staring out the window with a scowl, sulking as he rubbed where Richie had struck him. Cannon didn’t think the hit was that hard. More like Braydon was occupying his hand as he thought of a million ways to kill Cannon without getting caught.

  “Look, Braydon.” Cannon sighed. “We got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t we start over?”

  Richie’s red brows tugged together. “Did you really aim a gun at my brother?”

  This was going downhill fast. Cannon knew he’d fucked up, and he was trying to make it right, but it seemed as if Braydon didn’t want to hear anything he had to say.

  He got up and nodded toward them. “I’m going to let you two enjoy your dinner in peace. Sorry to have bothered you.”

  Richie looked like he wanted to protest but pressed his lips together. Braydon didn’t even look Cannon’s way. He kept glaring at the window.

  Knowing when to fold ’em, Cannon went to the other end of the diner and sat on one of the stools at the counter. His promising night had just crashed and burned.

  He ate his meal in silence but kept looking down the aisle where Braydon and Richie sat, talking and laughing and enjoying their food, which Cannon had to admit was amazing.

  He normally walked away when rejected, but he couldn’t seem to forget that Richie was there, those sweet lips taunting him in a way that had Cannon’s insides twisting up and heat simmering in his veins.

  A hunger so raw ate at him that Cannon had to do a double take. He’d never reacted to anyone like this before.

  He caught Richie looking his way, his lip trapped between his teeth as a blush surfaced and he averted his eyes. Cannon’s panther yowled at the color that crept across Richie’s cheeks.

  Braydon had taken the seat opposite, so his back was turned to Cannon, which was good because Cannon didn’t want any more death stares. Not when he had the hottest guy in the diner stealing glances his way.

  Maybe his night wasn’t a bust after all. Cannon just had to make sure Braydon was out of sight before he made his move.

  * * * *

  Richie wanted to kill Braydon and thank him at the same time. He was enamored by the tall stranger with gorgeous eyes and a deep, sexy voice. And that was the problem. Richie was ready to run to Cannon and throw himself into the man’s arms. Thank goodness he had Braydon to talk sense into him.

  But Richie had always been like that, oh so willing to fall into a hot stranger’s arms. If Ash, his coworker, didn’t constantly reel Richie in from following hot guys around like a stray puppy, he probably would’ve been kidnapped by now.

  Not that Richie had sex with anyone who smiled at him. He did have respect for himself. He just loved the art of flirting and catching someone’s eye, that thundering-heart feeling and how his breath caught when a guy finally walked up to him to start a conversation. The whole experience was magical to him, a game, cat and mouse, predator and prey.

  Well, maybe not the last part because Richie didn’t want a real predator after him. But damn if Cannon hadn’t lit a fire in him, and Richie was ready to combust.

  He hadn’t wanted to leave the diner. Braydon made him. His brother reminded him, twice, of what the undercover cop had done, and how using a gun to get what you wanted was never cool on any level.

  Even though Richie agreed, he hadn’t been able to rip his eyes away from the handsome, mysterious man who was so sexy that Richie’s teeth ached.

  Now he was walking down the street with Braydon, but he kept looking back at the diner, hoping for another glance of the bad-boy he needed to stay away from.

  “Stop it.” Braydon stopped walking to face him.

  “Stop what?” Richie asked innocently.

  “Looking for Mr. Trouble,” Braydon said. “He might have a legit job in law enforcement, but not all cops are honorable. What he did was fucked up, and I’m not going to let you swoon over him.”

  Too late, but Richie didn’t say that out loud. Braydon would probably try and knock some sense into him, and Richie wasn’t in the mood to get into a fight with his brother.

  “Okay, fine.” Richie sighed. “I’m heading home. I need to get some sleep before my shift starts.”

  That was the honest truth. He’d gotten only a handful of hours when he’d gotten off work at three in the morning. Now Richie felt the exhaustion.

  “Trust me. You’re better off leaving him alone.” Braydon walked to his car, which was parked in front of Bistro. “Go home and sleep and forget you ever met Cannon.”

  Unfortunately Richie always learned things the hard way, and as much as he wanted to take Braydon’s advice, he knew he wouldn’t. Cannon was a mystery to solve, a temptation Richie knew he wouldn�
��t be able to resist.

  The story of his life. Chasing bad boys who ended up only breaking his heart. One would think that Richie would have learned his lesson by now, but nope, he hadn’t. Not when he was tempted as fuck to go back to the diner and give himself over as the dessert Cannon had wanted.

  But one thing Richie said was true. He needed to get some sleep. Sadly, playtime would have to wait.

  * * * *

  The atmosphere was electric as Cannon turned sideways and headed toward the bar. The guy who ran the motel had told him about this place. Pump, a gay bar that was lively and crowded and full of so many hot little numbers that Cannon wasn’t sure who to take back to his motel room.

  He was on the prowl and wouldn’t be leaving alone. That was a fact, but damn if that little human from the diner, Richie, didn’t keep popping into Cannon’s skull. Those strawberry-colored lips, that fiery red hair, those blue bedroom eyes.

  Cannon snarled to himself, pissed that he hadn’t gotten Richie’s number. No fucking way would Braydon give it to him. In Braydon’s eyes, Cannon was the devil.

  The music was rising to a crescendo, sweaty bodies writhed and jerked, people shouted to be heard, and the crowd seemed to grow the closer Cannon drew to the bar.

  And then Cannon saw why. There was a tall, lanky, blond-haired guy behind the bar moving his body to the music, looking as if he was making love to the air. Men whistled and hooted, slapping cash onto the countertop.

  The bartender smiled, winked at a few guys, and gave this kind of devious, sensual look at a few men from under his thick golden lashes. Cannon wasn’t going to lie. The act the bartender was putting on had wicked thoughts chasing in his head.

  Until Cannon looked left and spotted him. Short, compact, hair that, under the lighting, looked blood red. Those mystical blue eyes shined as he served drinks, rushing up and down the counter, a sway to his hips that left Cannon breathless and rock-hard.