Flyers Fuzzbutts and Fisticuffs

by Jools Louise

  “Okay, I’d like that, Uncle Rudolph,” “Joseph” said, smiling and kissing Doyle’s cheek.

  Doyle chuckled, winking. “Let’s go. Before they run out of hot chocolate.”

  “I can’t let you do that,” one of the newcomers said harshly.

  Louis fixed the three strangers with a hard look. “Can we help you?” he asked, suddenly all tough-guy, ready to break heads together.

  “She’s ours,” one guy said.

  “Actually, she isn’t,” Cullen said firmly. “She’s a free agent, not a possession.”

  “We’re taking her with us. Her husband misses her, and wants her to come home.”

  “She’s divorced, dickwad,” Cullen shot back, glaring at the moron.

  Doyle pushed “Gertrude” behind him, handing the boy to Cullen. “She’s not yours to take, asswipe,” he growled, baring his claws and fangs. His eyes swirled with anger.

  “Run, Cullen,” Louis ordered. “We’ll take care of this scum.”

  “Trouble?” a familiar British voice said, and John Hastings appeared, Ryder and Mick right behind him.

  “Olivia texted to say these creeps were giving your family grief, Cullen,” John said. “How about we help you take care of that.”

  “Yeah,” Mick cut in, cracking knuckles, looking gleeful at the thought of a fight. “Sage hasn’t had enough creeps visiting recently. And I haven’t had the chance to try out my fisticuffs in a while.”

  “Me either,” Louis said dryly. “The last creep I took on shot me.”

  Cullen couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face at the wry comment. “Ronan explained why,” he said.

  “Yeah, still hurt, though,” the big shifter shot back, grinning.

  “Give Irina and Mika to us, and we’ll leave quietly,” one of the wannabe kidnappers said, looking irritated at their banter. “Otherwise, it’s going to go badly for you.”

  “Oh, that’s nice, we get to choose,” Doyle said. “What do you say, guys?”

  “What was the alternative, again?” Mick asked, arching his gingery eyebrows mockingly. He owned a popular bar and restaurant, MJ’s, with his husband, Jamie, and father-in-law, Jack. He was also, like John, one of the original Two Spirit Ranch crew who had helped put Sage back on the map. And he didn’t take kindly to bruisers entering town threatening women and little kids.

  “Does it matter?” Cullen asked, rolling his eyes. “They aren’t going. Your employer is just going to have to find another way to get his kicks. Hunting innocents because he has delusions of power? It ain’t happening in this town.”

  Ryder shot him a steady look, which he returned with one of pure stubbornness. He and Ryder probably needed to exchange notes, but Cullen hadn’t quite forgiven the big lug for being such a douche.

  “Mr. D’Arcy?” John asked, his green eyes curious as he studied Cullen’s “family.” He turned his gaze to the leader of the gang, looking as though he recognized the man, but couldn’t place the whereabouts.

  “No. Our employer is not Mr. D’Arcy. Not directly, anyway. We were hired by Nikolai Petrovsky, a very wealthy man, and he has insisted that we bring Irina and Mika to him. He is distressed that his dear wife and son have left him.” The man sneered. “We can do this the easy way, or we can raze this town to the ground to get her,” the lead thug said with impressive aggression, given he was facing two huge bear shifters, twice his size, a snow leopard shifter, a tiger shifter, plus a fox shifter who was pretty good at biting ankles.

  “Well, that sounds like overkill,” John mocked, blocking the doorway. “Sage has already suffered through one makeover. Not sure we like the sound of that.”

  “How about we try this?” Ryder said in a tone that had Cullen staring at him with new respect. Ryder was a total badass when he wanted to be. “How about you get the fuck out of town, and tell Mr. Petrovsky that neither he nor his crew is welcome.”

  “Sorry, fella,” the man said, reaching into his jacket. “We’re under orders. This woman is a criminal. She stole something.”

  “I don’t think so,” the woman in question said quietly, staring at the men through tired eyes. “You can’t steal what belongs to you,” she continued. “Besides, there’s no money left. He seems to think there were millions stashed away. There’s nothing. The accounts were emptied a while ago. I suppose that somebody got there first. Perhaps he should speak to some of his other associates.”

  The gang leader shook his head. “That could be true. That’s not my call to make. You need to speak to Mr. Petrovsky. We’ve been paid to take you back to Kiev.”

  “What’s he paying you?” John asked. “We’d be happy to pay double for you to disappear.”

  The man shook his head. “No can do. We’ve been paid already. Mr. Petrovsky has a long reach, and we’d like to live a bit longer. Just let us take these two off your hands, no harm, no hard feelings.”

  “I’ll go,” Irina said wearily, stepping away from Cullen. “If you’d take care of Mika for me. He isn’t part of this.”

  “No,” Cullen said gently, tugging her back toward him. “You came to Sage for a reason. To start a new life. What kind of a friend would I be if I let you leave here, knowing Petrovsky is a killer? He won’t just want a chat, will he? Mom and Dad would never forgive me if I allowed anything bad to happen to you, when I have the power to prevent it.”

  She sighed. “I don’t think I can take much more,” she whispered tearfully. “We’ve been on the run for months, trying to avoid trouble. I only contacted you a month ago because I was running out of options—and hope. They hurt my boy. They shot him in the leg. I couldn’t stop to get him medical assistance. And now they’re here already. Always one step ahead.” She knuckled her eyes, sniffing wearily. “Look what I’ve done. I asked for help, and you so graciously did so, getting us out of the Ukraine. And how did I repay you? Brought these people right to your doorstep.”

  She slumped suddenly, collapsing to the floor, exhaustion and fear getting the better of her.

  “Mama!” Mika cried, struggling to get free of Cullen’s hold.

  Cullen knelt beside his childhood friend, stroking her hair gently. He looked up at his friends, then over at the thugs. “What is Petrovsky’s interest in Irina?” he asked sharply.

  The three men exchanged glances. The leader shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Is he reachable by phone?”

  The man stared at him, frowning, then retrieved a phone from his pocket. He hit the screen once, then held the phone to his ear. “We have a problem,” he said into the phone.

  “I don’t pay you to report problems,” the harsh, Slavic-accented voice replied. With their shifter hearing, they could all hear the man perfectly well.

  “What are you intending to do with Irina and her son?” the leader asked. Cullen stared at him in surprise. An intelligent minion? “My instructions were to capture a criminal. Since when is a young boy of six a danger to you? Why was he shot? That’s despicable.”

  “What is this? You aren’t paid to ask questions. Just bring that bitch and her runt to me. Immediately.”

  The man handed the phone to John. “Mr. Petrovsky I presume?” John asked.

  “Who is this?”

  “The lady says no, old chap,” John said, ignoring the question. “So you won’t be needing to speak to Irina, Mika, or anyone else. Now do be a good boy, and leave us the fuck alone, won’t you?”

  “John Hastings, I presume?” Petrovsky said, all icy calm now.

  “Lucky guess?” John said, frowning.

  “Not at all, ‘old chap.’ I don’t use guesswork.”

  “Aah, so you have your spies hard at work, then. Fortress or Flashpoint?”

  “Ha-ha. I use whatever methods I deem practical,” the Russian retorted. “My darling wife stole from me. The money in question belongs to my organization. But since I’m such a reasonable man, I’ll give you a choice. Transfer twenty million pounds sterling into the account I’m about to send you,
and I won’t destroy your little blot on the landscape.”

  “She doesn’t belong to you, Petrovsky. You’re divorced, aren’t you? That makes her a free agent.” John scowled, his tone pithy.

  “Tell him he needs to tell us who Shadow is,” Cullen whispered to John, ignoring Ryder’s stare. “If not, his dealings with Fortress, and what he’s done to these people, and many others, will go viral by the end of today.”

  John stared at him, a hint of respect in his eyes, then nodded slowly, after getting agreement from Ryder.

  “Petrovsky, who’s the Shadow?” he asked, eyes narrowed on Cullen’s face. “Here’s the rub, you see. There’s no money, so no transfer. But we have a dilemma over here. We need to know about Shadow, who I’m sure you’re aware of. We have lots of evidence of you murdering fox shifters. If you don’t spill the beans about Shadow, we’ll have no alternative but to share your murderous activities with the world. Then you can see how easy it is to run from someone who wants you dead…the authorities will be after you in a second.”

  “Here’s my deal, John Hastings. If you want to keep your children safe, transfer that money and deliver Irina and Mika to me, in three days. You’ll be told the location.” Petrovsky didn’t sound a bit concerned about the threat before he cut the connection.

  “He hung up,” John said, a hard edge to his voice.

  A phone beeped, and another gang member took the call. Cullen saw his expression, saw him look at the leader. Before he could react further, the guy nodded, produced a pistol from his jacket, and aimed it at the leader’s head. John leapt forward, knocking the guy to the floor. The gun fired into one of the advertising boards, thudding into the Perspex cover. Mick punched the other guy, while Ryder disarmed the gunman. A second later, two of the gang were unconscious, the leader getting warily to his feet.

  “Alastair Craig,” John said, studying the man intently. “Long time, old friend. What the hell have you gotten yourself involved in?”

  “John,” the man replied cautiously.

  “You saved my life once, so I owed you one,” John said seriously. “Now we’re even.”

  “I understand.”

  “You know him,” Ryder said, somewhat irrelevantly.

  “Get Irina and Mika out of here,” John said to Cullen, ignoring the statement. “We’ll deal with this scum. Make sure you take backup,” he added, nodding at the bear shifters.

  Nodding, the bears ushered Cullen, Irina and Mika out of the cinema, into the snowy street.

  Chapter Three

  “What’s the deal, Alastair?” John asked once the others had left.

  Alastair ducked his head, looking uncomfortable for the first time. “I left the service, and did consulting and security work for a while. This job came up, so I took it.”

  “You didn’t ask questions?”

  Alastair shrugged. “The original call came from a legitimate source. The guy was a government official, an MP, for goodness sake. Why would I doubt his word?”

  Ryder snorted. “Martin D’Arcy?” The man nodded. “Are you serious? He’s a politician, for a start. And not a good one.”

  “You’re Ryder Black,” Alastair stated, glancing his way. “D’Arcy said there would be a special bonus for taking you down. He told me you were a rogue agent. I found out he and Petrovsky are working together, but only after I’d accepted the job. D’Arcy isn’t interested in Irina, but his contacts enabled Petrovsky to find her. D’Arcy is after another prize, and acted as an agent for the Russian. When I took this mission, I was only told that the people I was after were criminals.

  “Damn,” John said, frowning. “So those two are working together. That’s not good. What’s the likelihood that trouble is about to rear its ugly head again.” He snorted. “Just when things were beginning to settle down again.”

  “You must be so proud,” Mick said, patting Ryder’s shoulder and wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “You’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest for sure. Not only do we have Flashpoint on our case, but Fortress is now in league with the Russians. Anyone else we should know about?”

  “Oh, I am proud,” Ryder retorted, ignoring the sarcasm. “Now I know we’re making an impact over there. Fortress are having to take notice, since we recently wiped out their base in Wales, and D’Arcy is too hot to handle anywhere else but Russia. I’ll do some digging on Petrovsky, see who he is.”

  “You took down Sir Aaron Fielding,” Alastair said, eyeing Ryder with respect. “That guy was someone I never worked for, but never wanted to. A total asshole.”

  “D’Arcy’s worse,” John told him quietly. “The guy killed Giles Rutherford, Minister for the Environment, in cold blood. He also badly injured another of our contacts, Eric Merchant, a former agent who was compromised. D’Arcy is responsible for ordering hits out on Cullen’s family in England, as well as dozens more. He’s evil.”

  “I didn’t know,” Alastair said sincerely. “You know me, John. You know I play it straight. I don’t kill innocents. I messed up, though. I should have done my homework more thoroughly. I recognized the name, and knew him as an MP. Didn’t think to check further.”

  “He just ordered a hit out on you,” Mick reminded him.

  “I guess that means I’m fired,” Alastair said dryly. He raked a hand through his dirty-blond hair, his light grey eyes flickering with mild amusement. “Know anyone who’s hiring?”

  “You mean anyone who’s hiring a washed-up old SAS commander, down on his luck, with a price on his head?” John asked, smirking. “What do you think, Ryder? Could we use someone like that?”

  Ryder snorted, eyeing Alastair with distrust. “I think perhaps I’ll have a chat with him, without you there, if you don’t mind, John. I’m not sure I trust someone who changes allegiances so fast.”

  “Ryder, the man just had someone order his execution,” Mick protested.

  “That could be a trick,” Ryder said, not budging an inch. “A convenient way to get our attention and make us think he’s kosher. Then when we’re all huggy and kissy with him, he kidnaps the people he’s already been paid to kidnap, and heads off into the sunset.”

  “Ryder, old chap, you do have Machiavellian streak a mile wide,” John said, eyeing him with amusement.

  “I sort of agree,” Mick said, shrugging when John shot him a hard look. “It does seem as though it all fell into place for him, given that Petrovsky already knew your name, John. Probably means these guys have been watching the town and reported back. They’d know that you would try to protect Alastair.”

  John frowned. “If Petrovsky and D’Arcy are working together, they’re bound to exchange notes. And if Flashpoint is in the mix, it stands to reason they’d know me. Didn’t you mention something about a guy in Wales, the Commander, who resembled me, Ryder? I’m still looking into who he is. Apparently I’m flavor of the month right now.” He rolled his eyes. “Take him,” he said to Ryder, gesturing to Alastair. “See what he knows. You’re right, it’s best if I stay out of it.”

  Ryder nodded, palming his phone and calling for backup to take the three kidnappers.

  “You don’t believe me,” Alastair said, sighing wearily.

  “I knew you fifteen years ago,” John said shortly. “You’ve been a mercenary for a while. A gun for hire. Mick’s right. It’s convenient, your showing up here and Petrovsky already knowing my name. And now I find you know about D’Arcy and Fielding? D’Arcy’s name was mentioned during my time in England. You would have known he’s being hunted for murder. It doesn’t quite ring true that you wouldn’t have a clue who hired you, or why.”

  Alastair sighed again, looking resigned. “I didn’t know,” he said. “I’ve been overseas for several years. I only got back a month ago. I asked around and was given a number to call. This was the job.”

  John met his eyes. “Where were you?” he asked.

  “I worked for an oil tycoon in Russia,” Alastair replied. “He paid well. I headed his security team. I’ve only been a
mercenary for a short while. Not as long as you seem to think.”

  “Why leave?” Mick asked as Ryder finished his call.

  Alastair looked sad, his eyes flickering with grief. “He died. He was pretty old, in his eighties. His grandson took over the business and wanted his own team around him.”

  “Who did you work for?” Ryder asked suddenly, eyeing Alastair steadily.

  “Goran Moriakovsky.”

  “Goran’s dead?” Ryder asked, sounding unhappy. “He was a decent man.”

  “Yes, he was. Treated me like family.”

  “His grandson, Ralph, is ambitious,” Ryder said grimly.

  Alastair snorted. “His grandson is a jumped-up little twat with no class, who’s doing his best to spend his grandfather’s millions before he reaches forty. With three years to go, he’s making a pretty big dent so far.”

  “Alastair Craig, aka Arctic Wolf,” Ryder said slowly.

  Alastair nodded, flushing a little at John’s look of surprise. “Don’t shout about it. That’s kind of confidential.”

  “I didn’t know that was you,” John said. “I thought he was an urban myth.”

  “You’re a legend in certain circles,” Ryder told him. “I can’t believe you got hired by D’Arcy and Petrovsky.”

  Alastair looked genuinely sorry. “I truly didn’t know,” he said. “And I know you won’t believe this, but I only met those two yesterday. I flew straight here from Kiev, after spending some time out there. Ralph had me blacklisted.”

  “Why?” Mick asked.

  “I punched him unconscious when he asked me to find him some ‘sweet young things’ for his bed,” Alastair retorted, looking disgusted. “He likes his sex partners young.”

  The transport arrived, interrupting the conversation. Ryder and Mick handed the two unconscious thugs over to the security team.

  “What about Alastair?” John asked quietly.

  “I tend to believe him,” Ryder said, eyeing the tall Brit searchingly.

  “So do I,” John retorted. “But I’m biased. He was always a straight shooter. Well respected. Arctic Wolf, though?”