by Lynn Hagen
Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Baker wondered where Reno lived. If he knew, he would go over there right now and apologize, maybe even grovel. But he had never bothered to ask and Reno had never bothered to tell him.
His gut began to clench as he felt pain in the back of his throat. Baker had gone from being extremely pissed off to feeling guilty as hell for the way he had treated Reno.
Climbing the steps to his apartment, Baker let himself in, slammed the door behind him, and dropped onto the couch. “What the fuck am I going to do now?”
His thoughts were tumbling, splintering into pieces as they ran back and forth between his father and his mate. They were both mad as hell at him.
When it rains it pours.
Sighing dejectedly and slumping his shoulders, Baker fell over to his side, hitting the cushions and closing his eyes. To hell with it. He would figure out a way to get Reno to forgive him and maybe even his father.
At the moment, he just didn’t care. All Baker wanted to do was sleep the rest of the night and forget he had a fucked-up ending to his evening.
But first he needed to get out of his sticky pants and take a shower. Too bad his dad hadn’t seen Reno actually bite into him. That would have stunned him into silence.
As Baker undressed, he smiled. What he wouldn’t give to let his father know Reno was really a coyote. But his mate had warned him not to tell others, to keep the secret of Brac Village. His mate had told him that the world didn’t know about shifters and they were better off not holding that knowledge. Their relationship with the humans was more harmonious that way.
He still didn’t get why his dad had a stick up his rear. His life wasn’t bad. Baker had a job, a mate, and a cozy apartment. Why was his dad all over his ass?
Tossing his dirty clothes into the basket by his bedroom door, Baker felt a low throb in the front of his head.
Great, a fucking migraine. It was only befitting since everything else seemed to be going wrong tonight. But even though his head felt like a sledgehammer was coming down on his skull, Baker couldn’t help but think of Reno’s thick, masculine chest, strong, sure hands, or the way he could use one glance with those sexy espresso eyes to make Baker’s knees quiver.
With that thought in mind, Baker took a quick shower, jacked off, and went to bed.
Chapter Nine
Slipping his cell phone out of his front pocket, Officer Johnson dialed the number in his contacts. He listened to it ring as his eyes scanned over the apartment building. The hour was late but he knew the person he was calling would not only still be awake, but would answer.
From the dark interior of his police car, Johnson listened to the dispatcher’s voice crackle over the radio. He ignored it. There were more important things to do right now than grab some juveniles out past curfew. Let the other officers handle the call.
Just when he thought the call would forward to voice mail, the ringing stopped, replaced by an eerie quietness. But no one said a word. The person who answered his call waited for Johnson to speak.
He shifted in his seat, the groan of his utility belt sounding loud in the hush of his car. “I saw one of them bite a human tonight.” As Johnson sat there and recounted what he had witnessed at the gazebo, there was a grunt on the other end, telling him the person was listening.
“I followed the human to his apartment. I have to tell you, the biter didn’t look like a vampire to me. His teeth were longer, thicker, and he didn’t drink any blood.”
“How do you know this?” Mr. Kenyon asked in a slow, deeply intrigued tone.
“He bit the human on the shoulder, not on the neck. If I had to guess at what I saw, the guy’s teeth looked more like what a dog would have than a vampire.” Johnson turned the radio down so he could hear better. The dispatcher was really starting to work his nerves right now. The upbeat tone was irritating enough, but the guy sounded like he really enjoyed his job. Johnson curled his lip.
In his opinion, the guy needed to be replaced.
“I’ll have my secretary add this bit of information to his file.”
Mr. Kenyon’s tone told Johnson that he didn’t believe him, that Johnson was more of a crackpot than an observant informant. If the money wasn’t so damn appealing, Johnson would tell Kenyon to shove his condescending tone up his ass.
But the money was too good. Johnson wasn’t going to risk losing his pay over his foul temper. His bad attitude had gotten him in enough trouble with the police force. He had a feeling Kenyon wouldn’t tolerate such disrespect.
Johnson didn’t care anything about Kenyon except his wallet. The man was rich as fuck, and Johnson wanted a piece of that cheese. He needed to convince the man he wasn’t a wacko. “I can get pictures.”
He waited, his breath tight in his lungs as he once again glanced up at the apartment building. Kenyon hated chatty people, so Johnson didn’t say a word, letting what he said be absorbed.
“Bring me the person in question and I’ll double your payment.”
Johnson’s cock got hard over the amount Kenyon was talking about. He could retire, tell the force to go to hell, and go someplace with sandy beaches and miles of ocean as far as the eye could see. “I’ll get him for you. Where do you want him delivered?”
“Call me when you’ve secured him and I’ll give you the address.” Kenyon hung up.
Johnson tucked his phone away, smiling to himself as he started his car and headed toward the farmhouse that was on Reno Davis’s driver’s license.
* * * *
Reno felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand as he walked from the diner. The foreboding feeling that trickled over him was a warning that someone was following him. It wasn’t the same feeling he got when he was near Baker, so he knew it wasn’t his mate playing their little game.
No, this one was different.
His coyote was telling him it was a threat. But Reno didn’t need his beast confirming what he already knew. As he walked to his motorcycle, which was parked just outside The Café, Reno pretended to bend down and tie his boot. Using the cover, he casually glanced around, pretending indifference when he spotted the cop car parked a few buildings down. He immediately recognized the officer behind the wheel.
Johnson.
What in the hell was that guy’s problem? Reno couldn’t think of one thing he had done—aside from Baker calling on him for loitering—that would spur this man into dogging his every move. The guy was relentless.
Maybe if he tossed Johnson a box of donuts he would leave Reno alone. The thought amused him as he stood and walked into The Café. This was not where he intended to go, but he knew if he went to his motorcycle, Johnson would harass him.
Already in a funk about Baker, Reno was not in the mood to deal with an asshole cop with a grudge against him. He ordered his drink and took a seat at one of the tables. From where he was sitting, it gave him an unobstructed view of the cruiser without Johnson being able to see him.
If the guy wanted to play the waiting game, so be it.
It wasn’t like Reno had anything better to do with his evening. He thought about going over to Baker’s, but ever since his mate snapped at him last night, Reno was in a sullen mood.
He had been lost in thought all day at work to the point he was forgetting things he was supposed to have completed. Bear wasn’t too happy with him right now. Reno couldn’t blame his boss for being irritated, but having a fight with his mate—or harsh feelings at the most—wasn’t something Reno enjoyed.
He slowly sipped his drink, his eyes fully focused on Johnson. He once again was trying to figure out why the cop was following him.
Finally the cruiser pulled away from Reno’s hog. He was free to take his tired ass home. He had parked by the front of The Café. Tossing his leg over his hog, Reno donned his helmet and took off down Main Street.
He headed out of town, riding down the scenic country road, until he pulled into his driveway. Maybe he could go pick Baker up and bring him here. R
eno had yet to show his mate where he lived or his home.
Walking into the front entrance, Reno tossed his keys and leather aside, striding toward the kitchen for something to eat. He thought of the hot dogs and fries Baker had fed him the night he had gone over to his mate’s apartment.
That thought only drove home the fact that his mate wasn’t with him. Slamming the fridge door, Reno grunted. To hell with it. He was going over to Baker’s and bringing his mate here. The man was just going to have to get over the anger of his father embarrassing him. Worse shit had happened to Reno in life. A father’s disapproval wasn’t something to drive a wedge between them.
Besides, he was aching for his mate. He wanted to feel Baker in his arms.
With that decision in mind, Reno turned to leave when he spotted Johnson standing in the kitchen doorway. How in the hell had he managed to get in without Reno knowing? His coyote was getting lazy.
“What are you doing in my house?” Reno barked the question angrily.
“You know,” Johnson began as he leaned his shoulder into the doorframe, “I never liked you from the first moment I laid eyes on you. You’re nothing but an arrogant punk.”
Reno had been called worse. Most mistook his confidence as arrogance. They thought him a standoffish snob when in reality he was just a private person. Bear had thought that about Reno when he first transferred into the firehouse, but after a few gruff encounters, they had felt each other out and were fine.
He wasn’t going to have a few gruff encounters with Johnson and there would be no feeling each other out. The man had an objective. Reno just wasn’t sure what that objective was, though.
Johnson narrowed his brown eyes at Reno, the skin crinkling at the sides of his pale face. The human was thin, tall, and Reno knew he could take him down if the man weren’t holding a weapon.
“Sticks and stones,” Reno replied. “Now get the fuck out before I throw you out.”
“I’m a cop,” Johnson said arrogantly as he ran his hand over his short, black, cropped hair. “Do you really think you can just toss me out?”
Reno watched Johnson’s hand rest against the butt of his gun. He knew he was going to have to be careful how he handled this situation.
His coyote was dying to take a bite out of Johnson, but Reno pulled his beast in. When he took a step forward, Johnson pulled his gun so fast that Reno was impressed. But he wasn’t impressed with the barrel aimed at his face.
“Not one more step,” Johnson warned. “I will blow your damn head off.”
“You’re in my house,” Reno pointed out. “How will you justify the kill?” He was stalling, trying to figure out a way to get the gun out of Johnson’s hand without being shot. The cop looked like he was itching for a reason.
“Let me worry about that.” Johnson waved the gun toward the back door. “Just get moving.”
Reno was trying to grapple with the ramifications of walking out of the door with Johnson. He knew the cop had an objective, but taking him outside, Reno hadn’t a clue why they were leaving the house.
He felt the displaced air behind him and knew Johnson was trying to strike him. Pivoting quickly, he saw the cop was trying to slam the butt of his gun down on Reno’s head. Instinct took over and Reno hit Johnson so hard in the face that he feared he had killed the guy. The cop slumped to the ground.
He stood there stunned, looking down at what he had just done. I hit a cop. Oh hell, I assaulted a police officer!
Reno took a shaky step back. No one knew the cop had been harassing him and Baker. It was going to be Johnson’s word against his. They were going to lock him up for this one. All Johnson had to say was he had come by to talk to Reno, making up some sort of excuse for the visit.
It was a cop’s word against a fireman’s. Reno already knew which one of them would win that debate. It was a no-brainer. Unsure of what to do, Reno ran into the house, grabbed his keys and helmet, then locked the back door. He scooted around Johnson and then took off for his motorcycle.
He had to get to Baker. If he took off and left his mate behind, he was leaving the human vulnerable. Reno wasn’t sure how receptive Baker was going to be once he told him what had taken place at his house, but he had to try.
Racing down the country road, Reno pushed his motorcycle to the limit. Baker lived next door to the police station. If Johnson woke and called the assault in, they would be at Baker’s in seconds.
Parking his hog behind the building to keep it out of sight, Reno hurried into the foyer and climbed the steps. He wasn’t sure how long Johnson would be laid out on his back lawn and knew his time was precious.
As Reno neared Baker’s door he knew he hadn’t much time. He knocked, waited, and then knocked again. When Baker didn’t answer, Reno swept the hallway with his eyes before trying the handle.
It was unlocked.
With quick steps Reno was inside the apartment, quietly closing the door behind him. He searched the one-bedroom and found it empty. Where was Baker? His mate could be doing something as innocent as shopping, taking in a movie, or out to dinner. Just because Reno’s life was falling apart didn’t mean Baker was in peril. At least not yet. He wasn’t sure where to start looking. Baker didn’t own a cell phone, and that left Reno with no way to contact his mate. This was the worst time for Baker to—Reno grew utterly still when a faint scent wafted toward him.
He headed into the kitchen, only to see the tiled floor, empty table, appliances neat and in order on the counter, and everything spick and span. Nothing was out of place. It was as he remembered it the evening he had come over for dinner.
But the scent was in here as well.
Reno went through the apartment again, having a clue to work with. He was grateful the scent was absent where his mate slept. The bedroom was clean, the bed made, but the odor wasn’t in the room.
When Reno stepped back into the living room, the owner of that niggling scent came to mind and he knew who had been here. His muscles grew rigid as his jaw tightened.
Johnson.
From the light scent, Reno knew that the cop had visited Baker before he had started stalking him. He was hours late. His eyes darted over to the white blinds covering the window and saw the color spectrum of red, pink, and orange cutting across the sky as the sun began to set. Just how long ago had he taken Baker, and where?
Johnson could have stashed Reno’s mate anywhere before coming after him. The cop was as evil as a poisonous snake, and Reno planned on cutting the damn serpent’s head off if he harmed Baker in any manner.
Knowing he was in way over his head, Reno only knew of one thing to do. He pulled the black cell phone from his pocket and dialed the one man he knew could help him.
“Maverick.”
“This is Reno Davis.” Reno gritted his teeth at having to ask anyone for help, but he knew he had to find Baker before Johnson sought his revenge. He wouldn’t put it past the man to use Baker against him.
“I know who you are,” Maverick said. “I know everyone in my town. What can I do for you?”
That was the million-dollar question.
Chapter Ten
Maverick hung up the phone and then settled back in his chair. From what Reno had just told him, there was more going on than the coyote was aware of. Maverick had his suspicions about what Officer Johnson was really up to.
Johnson was the same officer who had confronted him outside of the hospital when Randy was leaving with his mate Priest. He had given Maverick a hard time.
It seemed Kenyon Corporation was determined to find out anything they could about Brac Village, and now that Kenyon had his sights set on Reno, Maverick knew the head Vampire Hunter had discovered that shifters existed.
Picking the phone back up, Maverick dialed Christian. “We need to gather the Ultionem.”
“Done.” The line went dead.
Maverick had protested the super-secret club, and still did to anyone listening. But in the back of his mind he saw the intelligence behind the
decision to make the leaders of the paranormal world one strong head. They were still working out all the details as far as the new laws that would govern the paranormal world, though. He had no clue all the things that had to be taken into account. Customs, beliefs, eating and hunting habits, those were just a few they had to consider.
If the decision was solely up to Maverick, he would make one rule that fit every species and breed. Don’t be a fucking idiot. That summed it up.
Unfortunately, things needed to be spelled out for most.
Driving his Softail into the city, Maverick smiled to himself. It had been a long while since he had gotten out and just ridden. The sun had already set, and the city was well lit and alive. Although he loved the small town he had established over two hundred years ago, the city offered a racier time, a thrum through the veins that Maverick welcomed on occasion.
The streets were filled with life as he navigated toward The Manacle. He could have easily had Carter pop him into Christian’s office, but Maverick liked feeling the adrenaline rushing through him, the pulsing of nightlife washing over him, and it didn’t hurt his ego when a few ladies of the night called out to him, telling Maverick what a hot-looking man he was.
Yeah, they were just trying to get into his wallet, but a man’s ego was so easily rubbed. Cecil did one hell of a job letting Maverick know he still had it, but it still felt good when a stranger backed that claim up.
Front tire bumping the curb as he turned into the parking lot, Maverick saw the crowd standing outside the nightclub, the line almost wrapping around to the alley. Christian had given Maverick a key to get in the back way, but the front would do just fine tonight. The loud, electro-funk music spilled from the doorway as Harley waved a couple past him.
Passing the vampire bouncer, Harley gave Maverick a nod as he walked right on by. Sweat, perfume, cologne, and pot wafting off of clothing from people passing by assailed his senses, the neon lights that slashed over the crowd bright. It helped that Maverick towered over the throng of partiers. He could see where he was going without having to strain his neck.