by Tara Lain
Bruce’s head snapped up. “You’ve been tracking the kidnappers?”
“Yes, a bit. Helping the police. After all, these people are my friends. So what happened? The kidnappers contacted you and said if you’d lure me, they’d pay you?”
Bruce stared at his feet sticking out from under his bent knees. “Not exactly.”
“So what, exactly?”
He shook his head.
“Bruce, you can’t confess if you won’t tell me anything.”
“M-my father.”
“You did it for him.”
“No, he did it.”
“What?”
“He did it. As in, I did it. Don’t move, Lindsey.” The voice came from behind him. Damn. The man’s cold voice slithered up Lindsey’s spine. Westerberg, senior. Shit. Had he been inside a packing crate? “Please, very carefully remove your weapon from your waistband and place it on the floor, or I’ll shoot you and perhaps my idiot son as well. I should have drowned the little homo at birth.”
Lindsey looked at Bruce, who was staring behind Lindsey like he’d seen a cobra. Yes, he felt a little snaky himself. Which was okay, as long as he didn’t feel wolfy. Stay calm. Could he outgun Westerberg? Obviously, threatening to shoot Bruce would probably elicit applause from his father. Much as he detested Bruce at the moment, getting the man shot might be overkill, literally. Slowly, he removed the gun and lowered it to the floor. Maybe he could shoot between his legs….
“Don’t even think about it.” Westerberg sounded closer and icier.
He placed the gun and stood.
“Kick it away.”
He complied.
“Turn around slowly.”
Lindsey rotated and finally saw the slick silver hair and stony face of Hanson Westerberg. He pushed down the rumble of a growl in his chest.
The man glanced at his son. “So, Bruce, you ass, you felt so badly about Lindsey having to spend a little time tied up that now you’ve managed to get him killed.”
“What?” Bruce came up onto his knees like he was praying. Yes, and it sounds like prayers are in order. “What are you talking about?”
“You fool. Don’t you see that now that he knows who’s behind this, I can’t let him live? Do you ever have two intelligent thoughts in a row?”
“You can’t kill him! You’ll have to kill me too.”
“That can be arranged.”
Bruce’s face went white. He knew his father meant it.
Lindsey felt his hackles rise. Attack. Kill. It whispered along his nervous system. Deep breath. Sadly, the situation was much as Westerberg described it. The kidnappers couldn’t continue to ply their trade if Lindsey lived.
Westerberg glanced around the room. “Vanessen, get over there.” He pointed toward the metal stairs. Lindsey moved slowly in that direction. Choices. Which gave him the best opportunity for survival—a gunshot without silver or a fall from a great height? Because clearly that must be Westerberg’s plan. Those stairs looked like a great place for an accidental fall. Lindsey’s wolf blood made him harder to kill, but neither choice was a stroll in the garden. Better to shift and eat the guy, but the moon was no longer full. Could he still muster the energy to shift? Westerberg could kill him while he tried. Plus, he didn’t want to kill Bruce, but the guy was a wimp who couldn’t be trusted, so shifting in front of him was dangerous to everyone. Well, hell.
“Climb the stairs.”
Lindsey turned and put one hand on his hip. “Why should I? You’re going to kill me anyway. Bullets are a lot harder to explain.”
Westerberg frowned. “You’re too fucking smart for your own good. Climb the stairs or I’ll kill Bruce with you and target your mother and grandparents as soon as you’re dead.”
The growl vibrated his chest. Evil. Attack.
“Get moving!” Westerberg stepped closer.
Lindsey took one step up. Red swam in front of his eyes and his heartbeat increased.
The gunshot exploded in the tin can of a room. “Oww!” Westerberg flew backward, grabbed his arm, and the gun went flying.
“Don’t take another step, Westerberg, or I’ll kill you and your son.”
Lindsey turned toward the voice. The wonderful, darling, beloved voice.
Seth. Oh God, Seth. The red receded from Lindsey’s vision, and his respiration slowed a little. He could just run across the room and climb Seth like a tree, but what good would that do? This was it. The kidnappings would now be over and he’d never have to see Seth again. Never have to risk—risk.
“Are you okay, Lindsey?”
“Yes. Thank you. How on earth did you find me?”
Seth grinned. Love those dimples. “Good thing I never trusted this asshole. We took off after you the second you left.” He waggled the gun at Bruce. “Why don’t you go over and stand next to your old man.”
Lindsey’s heart beat harder. “We? Did you say we?”
This voice had a nasty Southern drawl. “Ah’d suggest you drop that gun, cop, unless you want to see this kid dead.”
Oh no, God. A big man with a beard and mean, small eyes held Jazz around the throat and cocked a large semiautomatic at his head.
Seth froze. He glanced around. He had to be looking for some kind of plan. But that gun was too close to Jazz’s head.
Lindsey glanced back at the boy, whose eyes were huge, but his jaw was set. It would be just like Jazz to try something heroic. “Don’t move, Jazz. Do whatever the man says, okay?”
A muscle in Jazz’s jaw jumped and his eyes narrowed. His wolf could rise too! No. Too shocking to even consider, and it wasn’t full moon.
Crap. Lindsey’s heart hammered against his ribs; his breath came hot and fast. His skin heated. Bad, very bad.
Westerberg laughed. Still holding his bleeding arm, he walked over toward the gun he’d dropped earlier. “Bruce, get the cop’s gun.”
Bruce shook his head slowly like some dumb cow. Cow! Eat. Attack. Evil. Kill.
“I said get the fucking gun, you loser fag!” He leaned down to pick up his gun. Three bad guys with guns was three too many! Evil. Kill. Kill!
Red closed over Lindsey’s vision. Pain like acid shot through every cell.
From a long way off, he heard a scream. “What the hell?”
“Oh my God!”
Clothing flew through his line of sight as he leaped through the air, snarling, landed on the gray-haired human, and ripped the side of his throat. Blood. Good.
Beautiful human Seth, hit man with gun. Gun explode. Bad man fall. Boy good. Boy pack. Humans staring. Staring. Screaming. The wolf stalked toward the still-living humans, growling and snarling.
Cow Man screamed, “Shit! Shit! This is motherfuckin’ crazy.”
Beautiful human. Love. Boy pack. Love. Scared. Sad.
Protect pack. Run. Run. Run. “Ahhhhooooooooo.”
The golden wolf leaped across the room and ran out the door.
Seth sat on the metal stair and gazed at the floor. The floor in a world that made no sense. Jazz snuggled close beside him, closing ranks. Partridge stood in front of them looking damned official in his Feeb suit.
“Tell me again where this so-called wolf came from?”
Seth pointed behind him. “From upstairs.”
Partridge stared up. “We’ve looked all over up there. No sign of a wolf den. Hell, why would a wolf be this far into the city?”
Seth shook his head. “No idea, but I’m glad he was. He scared the shit out of the guy holding Jazz, so I got his gun.”
Partridge frowned. “You saw this wolf too, Jasper?”
“Yes, sir. Exactly like Seth said. Seth had caught the kidnappers until this dude caught me. When that wolf showed up, the dude got real scared, and Seth fought him for his gun, but it went off.”
“And the wolf attacked Hanson Westerberg.”
Seth sighed. “Yes, he leaped at him and bit his neck. Before you ask, I have no idea why.”
“We found some drops of blood in a trail ne
ar the door.”
Jazz nodded. “That’s where the wolf ran out.”
“The son said some pretty crazy shit when we came in.”
Okay, Zakowsky, make it good. Fall apart later. “Bruce is crazy and has been going crazier by the day, is my guess. His father forced him into the kidnappings. The guy desperately wanted his father’s approval, so he went along and got in too deep. When he had to participate in the kidnapping of his friend, he fell apart.”
“Yes, where is Vanessen?”
“At home, I assume. I picked up Jazz to go get some food when I overheard a call between Lindsey and Bruce. Westerberg said something about this location, and I got suspicious and decided to check it out. I never dreamed I was dragging Jazz into this kind of trouble.”
Partridge raised an eyebrow. “I assume you agree with every word, Jazz.”
“Yes, sir.”
Seth breathed deeply. If he just didn’t think for the next fifty years, maybe he could get on with his life. “Are we done? The kid’s tired. I want to take him home.”
“Yeah, for now.”
“Shit, man, you caught your damned kidnappers. Be happy.” He stood up and pulled Jazz to his feet. The boy stumbled and looked woozy for a second, and Seth pulled him in close. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Partridge touched Jazz’s arm. “Are you all right?”
“Sure. I just have blood sugar problems.”
“Okay, get him home. And congratulations on catching these assholes, Zakowsky. I just wish we had a cleaner story than a mystery wolf.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes life is fucking mysterious.”
He wrapped an arm around Jazz’s shoulders, and together they walked out into the afternoon sunshine. Jesus, it felt like it should be two days later.
Jazz opened his mouth, and Seth put a finger to his lips. “Later.” The boy slipped on his helmet and climbed onto the motorcycle behind him. Seth nodded, Jazz wrapped his arms around his waist, and they took off. Where to go? No place they could be overheard, that was for fucking sure.
He drove for a few minutes, then pulled off at a small path that led down by the river. When the water was in sight, he stopped and turned off the bike. Jazz climbed off and seemed to catch Seth’s mood, because he didn’t just start blabbing. He took off his helmet and walked down until he sat on a log a few feet back from the rush of the river.
Seth sat beside him. A couple of pretty pebbles caught his eye, and he picked them up and then skimmed one across the water.
Jazz joined the idle discovery of stones. He sifted through the sandy soil. “So, Seth, you don’t actually believe any of that crap you told the FBI guy, right? We both know what we saw.”
“What did we see?”
“We saw Lindsey, uh, turn into a wolf. Right? I mean, one minute he was all slick, blond, movie-star Lindsey, and the next he’s this big yellow wolf ripping that asshole’s throat out. True?”
Seth sighed. “I was definitely hoping you were going to say you saw something different, because seeing that is fucking nuts.”
“Yeah, but that’s what you saw, right?”
“Yeah.”
Jazz slid his foot over the dirt, turned sideways on the log, and got serious. “The thing is, just before you walked into Lindsey’s this morning, he was telling me something about how life isn’t everything we think. How there’s other stuff going on. But he stopped when you came in.”
Seth looked up into the kid’s wide eyes. “You think he was going to tell you he’s a wolf?”
“A werewolf, yeah.”
Seth ran a hand through his hair. His head was going to explode! “Shit, Jazz, there’s no such thing as werewolves.”
“What’d you see?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re a reasonable guy.”
“It’s not reasonable to believe in werewolves.”
“After what we saw, it’s not reasonable not to.”
Seth threw up his hands. “Maybe my story really is true. Maybe a wolf did come down from the second floor.”
“And what happened to Lindsey?”
“He ate him.” He started to laugh so hard he felt like throwing up.
Jazz put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, man, be serious.”
“I don’t know how to be.” He stared at the ground. “Do you think he was going to tell me? I mean, he might have been telling you. Maybe he would have told me.”
“I don’t know, but I think I know why he was telling me.”
“Why?”
“You know all the weird stuff with the food and my fainting and shit?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, Lindsey said it was just like him when he was a kid.” Jazz ran a hand along his own cheek. “Seth, I think he was going to tell me that I’m a werewolf too.”
“Holy fucking shit.”
Seth pulled the Kawasaki up to the front of the Vanessen estate. Jazz jumped off the back and walked around to Seth. “You not coming in?”
He shook his head.
Jazz looked up at the house. “You think all the Vanessens know about Lindsey?”
“I’ve thought about it a little. I don’t think so.”
“Me neither, so I better keep my mouth shut.”
Seth nodded.
The kid looked down at his sneakers. “Hey, Seth, are you still going to like me if I’m, you know, different?”
“Of course, I’ll always like you.” Was that true? The question was, would Jazz still like him? “But you’ll have new friends and a lot of exciting shit happening, I imagine. You won’t need me.”
Jazz stared at those sneakers like they were the secret to eternity. Suddenly he threw his arms around Seth’s neck and hugged him. “I’ll always need you.” Then he turned and ran to the front door, used his key, and was gone.
Damn. Seth blinked hard. How he wished that was true.
A half hour later, he pulled in to his parking space at his apartment. Every pebble on the ground looked different. His head hurt and his body ached. How did he live in this new world where the kid he really cared about and the man he—really cared about were something he knew couldn’t exist?
He dragged his body up to his second floor, one-bedroom apartment. He pushed open the door. The sun was fading, and it made shadows across his piece-of-shit carpet. Funny, he never cared about how his place looked. Now, he thought about that beautiful rug at Lindsey’s. So comfortable. So like the man. No, not man, the—shit, he could not say it. He dumped his keys on the table beside the door, walked into the kitchenette, and pulled a beer from the fridge.
“Can I have one of those?”
The soft voice could have been a shot from a cannon. Seth grabbed for his gun and had it in hand before he fully focused on the huge man with the silvery hair staring at him from beside the door. The closed door.
Seth held the gun but didn’t point it. “How did you get in here?”
“Doesn’t matter. Can I h-have a beer while we talk?”
What the fuck! He holstered his gun, fished another bottle out of the refrigerator, and handed it to the guy. “You’re Cole, right?”
“Yes.” The man flipped the cap from the bottle with his thumb like it was made of paper. He turned and walked into Seth’s small living room and sat in one of the two chairs. They had once been midcentury modern. Now they were just midcentury crap.
Seth took a swig and sat on the couch. “So you’re a werewolf too, right?”
The weird eyes flashed up. “Ah, all in one statement you’ve answered so many of my questions. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
“So you actually witnessed Lindsey in shift?”
“Yeah. Did he tell you?”
“No. I suspect he’s still in shock over the whole event. I heard he was protecting you and the boy.”
“You mean the boy werewolf?”
His eyes widened. “How do you know that?”
“Jazz figured it out. He tol
d me.”
Cole sipped his beer. “So what do you plan to do?”
“Do?”
“With your knowledge?”
Seth stared at Cole. Wow. He hadn’t really thought of it like that. “I imagine there are people who would pay a lot to know about you guys, right? Governments and scientists and shit?”
“Yes. Of course.”
His eyes met Cole’s. “Does anyone think you’re human?”
Cole gave a half smile. “People see what they expect regardless of evidence to the contrary.”
“I don’t plan to tell anyone what I know. I care about Jazz a lot, and I’d never want to see him hurt. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Only Jazz?”
“You mean Lindsey?”
“Yes.”
“No, I care about him too. Hell, he saved my life. I owe him.”
“I believe he cares for you.”
“Yeah, well—”
“Too different, right? Humans and werewolves can mate, but we seldom form lasting partner relationships with humans. It doesn’t work well. For one thing, we’re too aggressive. It’s not well received.”
Seth’s breath slid out. Well received. Oh, Lindsey’s aggression had been very well received. “He’ll marry a werewolf, I guess. Right?”
“Possibly.”
Seth frowned. “What the fuck kind of dumbass werewolf wouldn’t want Lindsey?”
Cole smiled. “Lindsey is only half werewolf. Plus, he’s gay. Few werewolves accept homosexuality. Too macho.”
“But you’re gay!”
“I’m the exception, and I was lucky to find my mate. Lindsey’s never believed he’d be so lucky.”
“Well, shit.”
Cole set the bottle on the coffee table. “To business. I’m not the alpha of my pack. I can’t speak for my pack. You’re the first human who’s been aware of our existence.”
“What about Westerberg?”
“Fortunately, he’s considered crazy, so people aren’t taking him seriously. You’re another matter. You’re a cop. It’s your good word that people are trusting. We appreciate the, shall we say, convincing creativity of your story.” He sat back. “I can’t tell you what my pack will decide to do. I can tell you that there’s little point in running. We’re exceptionally good trackers. Meanwhile, know that we have informants everywhere. If you decide to share the truth you’ve discovered, the results will be unf-fortunate.”