Flyers Fuzzbutts and Fisticuffs

by Jools Louise

  “I’m glad D’Arcy’s minions were shit shots,” he said. “Or I’d have missed that finale. But damn, bullets hurt.”

  Cullen grinned slightly and slurped at Doyle’s nipple. “Poor baby,” he said, kissing the two wounds which were already healing. Through and through, they’d missed every major organ and pierced only muscle, miraculous really, all things considered.

  “I’m glad you’re out of hospital at last,” he said. “This bed is lonely without you.” He looked at them both. “I know it’s probably too soon, but have you thought about where you want to stay? Long-term?”

  Louis nibbled at his earlobe, then kissed his neck tenderly. “It’s been discussed,” he said. “And “I’m not sure”, is the answer.”

  “I can’t get the sight of Humdrum’s body out of my head,” Doyle admitted, shuddering as he stroked Cullen’s hair back from his forehead, smoothing his thumb along one sleek eyebrow. “I don’t know how I’ll feel going back to our house, but I know we need to do it. For closure if nothing else.”

  “Would you be comfortable living here?” Cullen asked, curling his fingers through the thick mat of hair on Doyle’s chest. “I know it’s not got a yard, but my home entertainment system is the bomb.”

  The bears chuckled at that. “I don’t know,” Louis replied softly. “I like it here, but I feel more comfortable near the woods. This feels…”

  “Restrictive,” Cullen answered for him.

  Louis nodded. “Yes,” he said, grimacing ruefully. “We spent so long locked in that hellhole of a mine, that we like the feeling of space. Despite what just happened, we need to respect Humdrum’s attempts to be free of his demons. Whether it was murder or suicide, he was trying to get better. He was signed up to take self-defense classes, and told me he was using the Shifter Network again. Then. Bam!”

  Cullen heard the tears in his lover’s voice, knowing how deeply affected his bears were over their loss. To lose a friend was awful. To not know how or why was worse. Then he frowned, thinking about the last comment. “When did he start using the Network again?” he asked, his mind racing.

  “A couple of months ago,” Doyle responded after a pause. “He said he was hooking up with some friends who had been concerned about what happened with Crash.”

  “He seemed withdrawn the last few days, though,” Louis said thoughtfully. “As though he was distracted. I asked him if he was okay, but he said he had some stuff to deal with.”

  Cullen eased away from his cuddle buddies and sat up, wincing as he left the warmth of their embrace and scrambled from the bed. The room felt icy cold after being with his mates.

  “Do you know his Shifter Network handle?” he asked, grabbing his tablet from the side table and turning on the light.

  “Just Humdrum,” Doyle said.

  Cullen fired up the small computer and tapped into the Network. The Shifter Network was a mixture of Facebook and Twitter, set up exclusively for shifters, but as they knew, it could be compromised. They had been naïve to think it wouldn’t be used to get to their people, the young and vulnerable who didn’t know about the different styles of predation that existed. Grooming was one of them. As was cyberbullying.

  “I need to talk to Mystery,” he said, frowning as he typed in Humdrum’s name and hacked into the man’s account.

  “What is it?” Louis asked, leaving the bed to peer over Cullen’s shoulder.

  “Read this,” Cullen said, handing over the tablet and moving to the phone on the wall. “The bastards just don’t quit, do they?”

  As Louis studied the device, Doyle joined them, and snarled viciously as he saw the screen. “Fuck! I thought Toad’s gambling ring had been shut down.”

  “It was,” Cullen agreed. “But the wolverine clans are all linked somehow. And Toad is friends with Humdrum’s family, who shunned Humdrum when he came out and began living with Mystery as mates. When Crash was killed, and that fight club was turfed out of town, Humdrum apparently found out that they’d set up shop again. Only five miles away, at that deserted gas station on the main highway. He tried to stop them, threatened to report them if they didn’t leave.”

  “But they stopped him,” Louis interjected solemnly.

  “Yes,” Cullen said grimly. “I think if we send out a forensic team to that gas station, we’ll find all kinds of evidence about what actually happened to Humdrum. Those wolverines are arrogant and cocky. They won’t think we’d put it together this quickly. With Humdrum dead, and their belief that he was worthless, according to these messages, the wolverine clans probably haven’t considered how much Humdrum meant to some of us, nor that we take it a personal affront when somebody hangs a friend out in a public place, for anyone to see.” He spoke into the phone. “Hi, Pace. I have a lead on Humdrum’s death. Can I come over? Thanks.”

  “Let’s go,” Doyle, said, already getting into his jeans and a thick fleecy sweatshirt.

  Following suit, Louis and Cullen dressed, grabbed thick winter coats, and headed out.

  “You know,” Doyle commented casually, glancing at his watch. “We really need to stop having these meetings in the early hours. It’s only two in the morning.”

  “Poor baby,” Louis drawled mockingly. “Quit bitching, and get moving, stud. We have a murder to solve.”

  * * * *

  John sat alone in his café, sipping a cup of his favorite tea blend, feeling unutterably weary. Jayne had been buried a few days ago, leaving a scar in his heart and a feeling of guilt that just wouldn’t quit. He should have gone into the school as soon as he knew she’d been injured. That was his sister. What had he been thinking, leaving her like that? His mind whirred to that day. Honey disappearing, targeted by Shadow, who was now incarcerated at their high-security facility upstate. He was an illegal entrant into the USA, and Ryder had used his influence to have him imprisoned at the shifter facility. The fewer who knew about him, the better. John wanted the bastard to die there. Poetic justice that the man who had abhorred shifters was now up to his broken kneecaps in them.

  There was a knock at the window, and John looked up to see Cullen, Doyle, Louis, and Pace standing there, looking concerned.

  Sighing, he stood up and went to open the door. “What is it?” he asked, raking a hand through his long black hair, loose around his shoulders.

  “Wow!” Cullen said, eyeing him curiously. “This is the first time I’ve seen you without your ponytail,” he added, then flushed at the expression on John’s face. “Sorry. That was lame.”

  John arched a brow. “You came to tell me that?” he asked, lacking his usual laconic humor.

  “I’m sorry about Jayne,” Cullen said and hugged John. “I know what that’s like, to lose loved ones.”

  John closed his eyes, clearing his throat. “Yes, well. I reckon this one’s on me, isn’t it?” he said with a hint of bitterness. “Petrovsky wanted me. So he used Moriakovsky to achieve part of that. I don’t believe the bastard randomly shot my sister. He could have taken hostages anywhere in town, but chose a building that had my sister and children in it. I should have checked on her.”

  He turned and sat down again, not feeling very sociable.

  “John, we need your help,” Pace said, his tone professional, yet devoid of his usual brusqueness. He and John had butted personalities from their first meeting. Not tonight.

  John glanced up briefly, his eyes stark. “What?”

  “Here,” Cullen said, handing the big Brit his tablet.

  John stared at the screen, only half reading, then his gaze sharpened. “Call the Spirit Ink boys, and get them here, along with Mystery, Chill, and Bone,” he said softly. “Quickly.”

  Pace exchanged a startled glance with the others, but palmed his phone and made the call.

  “You see something we don’t?” Louis asked, taking a seat opposite.

  “I’m not sure,” John replied distractedly. “This handle here rings a bell. I want to let the boys see for themselves.”

  He pointed to a
nother moniker.

  “You know who that is?” Cullen wanted to know.

  “I want to know if they do,” John said slowly. “The fight club moved from here, and these messages obviously tell us that Humdrum found it. But this guy here has been to town before. I think it’s Mystery’s dad.”

  Everyone stared at the screen as Pace came to stand behind John.

  “Crusher8 is Mystery’s father?” he asked, aghast.

  “Yes.” Which meant that Humdrum had been murdered. And Crusher8 appeared to have just admitted he was the killer.

  “What’s going on?” Slug asked as he wandered in, yawning hugely, followed by his friends and lovers. “Pace said it was urgent.”

  He patted John’s shoulder lightly. “You okay, bud?”

  John nodded, closing his eyes at the offer of support. Slug was a tough individual, but every so often he revealed his softer side. He cleared his throat.

  “How’s Jay doing?” he asked.

  “Hurting,” Lash replied sadly. “It’s the children I’m worried about. Kathleen’s taking care of them, but they miss their mom.”

  “Cam and I have discussed it, and we’re going to have them move in with us, once we rebuild our home.”

  “They’d like that,” Rage told him, nodding. “You’re family, and they both get on well with Murray and Primrose.”

  Ethan entered the café, shutting the door behind him quietly, and went straight to the counter, setting off the coffee filter and grabbing a selection of snacks for everyone.

  John smiled slightly. “Sorry we disturbed your evening,” he said, looking pointedly at a love bit on Charm’s neck.

  “Don’t be silly, boss,” Ethan said. “We know what’s been happening in and around town and the ranch. We may not have been directly involved, but we’re not completely unaware. Now, quit stalling, and tell us all why we’re here.”

  John’s smiled widened at Ethan’s sass. The man had gone through his own hell, and come through it. He was now mated to four of his captors who had gone from cold-hearted bullies to loving life partners. Ethan needed the attitude to be able to manage his badass mates.

  “Here,” John said, handing over the tablet to Slug.

  The wolverine scowled as he studied the screen, then showed it to his mates. “Mystery, take a look, baby,” he said, gesturing the man over. Mystery held on to his friends, Chill and Bone, as he moved hesitantly toward the table. “Is this your dad’s name on here?”

  Mystery teared up, looking pale, and swallowed hard. “Yes,” he whispered. “He actually did it, didn’t he? He couldn’t stand for me to be happy, and in a relationship with Humdrum. What’s wrong with my family that they can’t accept that I loved a man?”

  He began to sob, falling into Slug, who enfolded him tightly, offering his strength. “Sweetie, we’ve been through it, too, you know that. I’m just so sorry you lost your mate, baby.”

  Ethan came over, placing a tray of coffees and pastries on the table, then moved to hug Mystery, as well, stroking his hair gently. “I’m sorry, honey,” he whispered. “I don’t understand their hatred either. Shark and Oliver told me their folks are still sending vile messages, even though they’re happily married. Never mind that their parents hated them being gay enough to throw them out. Stupidity comes in many forms, lovely.”

  “I can’t believe he’s dead,” Mystery wept. “We were so happy, and getting over Crash. Humdrum was determined to beat his guilt over what happened. Crash would have killed him, for sure, if he’d known where Humdrum was, but Humdrum felt so bad because we all got hurt. Crash hated that I fell for someone else. I’m glad I ended his miserable existence.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Pace asked softly, his eyes showing empathy. “We have a possible location for the fight club, which is what your dad’s involved in. Cullen hacked his account, and we know the time of the next bout. They’re holding the fights at night, at that abandoned gas station. Do you want to go? Or else, we can take care of things so you don’t have to see your father.”

  Mystery looked up, his eyes hardening to cold steel. “I want to see him,” he replied grimly, wiping his eyes. Ethan offered a tissue, and he blew his nose, sniffing hard. “I need to do this. For Humdrum. And to show those other bastards we aren’t going to cower like they want us to. We’re here to stay. In Sage. Out and proud.”

  Pace nodded, his eyes showing respect for Mystery’s resolve. “Good. Then let’s drink our coffee, and start planning. That fight club is about to go out of business.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sage was going to war. Cullen felt an edgy excitement settling in his stomach as he viewed the deadly array of warriors who were taking on Flashpoint’s fight club. This wasn’t just about Humdrum, although his death was the catalyst for the show of power. Several of their friends were missing, and after what had happened to Mikhail, his mates beaten to death because of their refusal to fight, this was a problem that needed resolving.

  They were using a drone for eyes in the sky, since Freddy was currently occupied keeping an eye out on the ranch. With all the factions intermingled—Flashpoint, Fortress, Moriakovsky, Arctic Wolf, and whatever agenda Nikolai Petrovsky had—they weren’t taking chances. Maizie, Joe, and the ranch crew were guarding both Two Spirit, the sports complex, plus the schools.

  The gas station Cullen’s team surrounded had been the site of a previous altercation, and lay just a few miles from Sage. Five miles. It was a kick in the teeth to find out that the wolverines, working alongside Flashpoint, were exploiting shifters to death. Literally.

  There was a sense of déjà vu about this scenario, something they’d played out before. Just when they thought they were getting ahead of the game, they discovered someone else was stacking the deck. So it was time to deliver a bigger message. Gloves were off. This was not a trial, but an execution. The wolverines had tugged the tiger’s tail once too often, hurting and maiming and murdering in the name of profit. Time was up.

  This time, the only technology being used was their drone, and a couple of shifters remaining in human form to record the events unfolding. This was shifter versus shifter. Fisticuffs and fangs, not firepower. And everyone in Sage had been eager to get some payback.

  Pace, Ryder, John, Mick, and Zack of the original Two Spirit crew were leading this charge. Kaden, Sherman, and their biker crews were back up, with bears, wolverines, foxes, wolves, and the big cat shifters all assisting. Sage was in lockdown, the main highway their battleground.

  Pace gave a low chuffing sound, signaling to move in, and they all began to sneak in, surrounding the entire perimeter. Silent as death, the snow absorbing any sound, they crept toward the ring. Dozens of punters all shouted at competitors slugging it out in two separate bouts. Slowly, using the fight as a distraction, the Sage crew settled in to wait, blocking all exits.

  “And the winner is…Pip Mayhew! Formerly of the K-Cuts crew, now one of our very own prize fighters, no losses.”

  Cullen snarled silently. Pip was one of Kaden’s crew, missing for months. Were there other members here, as well? He glanced to the side, meeting Louis’s gaze and reading the same question in his mate’s eyes. He jerked his head, indicating a line of trucks parked to the side of the gas station. Perhaps that’s what the promoters used to transport their livestock.

  Pace chuffed again, and Cullen focused on the task at hand for now.

  The crowd began to disperse, after collecting their winnings…and Sage struck back.

  Pouncing, fangs bared and claws ready to shred, the defenders got stuck in. Screams, snarls, growls resounded. Fur went flying, and blood spattered in a furious battle for supremacy. Not all of the crowd were shifters, and humans were cut from the fray and guarded by John’s SAS comrades, Paul, Reece, and Keane, who were all leopard shifters. The wolverines and other shifters were dispatched in brutal fashion unless they surrendered. If they fought back, they were killed. This time Sage was taking no prisoners. The deaths of so many of their ow
n and the attacks on the innocents were enough of a motive to deliver their deadly message. Sage had had enough.

  Cullen watched his mates move in on the ring leader, Mystery’s father, who was trying his best to evade capture by hiding inside the building.

  Then Mystery himself sped forward, his dark brown fur contrasting sharply with the snow. Leaping, he growled furiously, then lashed at his father, and the duo began to fight with grim determination. The pair went at it while the Sage contingent took care of the rest of the human survivors, keeping a circle around the gamblers and bouncers, making sure nobody interfered.

  The fight was over quickly, Mystery’s dad no match for the ferocity that his son displayed. Within minutes, the elder wolverine was lying on the ground, panting, his coat matted with blood, whimpering in pain and fear.

  “Enough, Mystery,” Pace said softly, stalking up to them and grabbing the older shifter by the scruff, hauling him up so they were eye level. “You and your people have no place in our society. We want peace and unity, and respect for all our species. Not this disgusting exploitation. You’re a disgrace to all shifters. So we’ve built a special place for you to spend the rest of your days. Somewhere you won’t see sunlight again, and you’ll be fed through a chute so you never have to show your despicable face again.” Pace shook the wolverine, who still wasn’t completely cowed, despite his situation. “Boys, get the transport ready. Then let’s blow this place to smithereens.”

  There was a roar of approval from the shifters.

  “What about us?” asked one sullen punter, glaring around the compound.

  John stalked toward the man, snarling viciously, then shifted and glared right back. “My dear man, you participated in an illegal fight ring. You stood by while shifters were killed in unequal bouts, which I say equals murder, and you profited from it. The first thing you’re all going to do is hand over whatever winnings you have.” He leaned in, green eyes glistening with fury. “Now!”