by Deja Black
There were few he’d granted that privilege, choosing instead to ghost in and out. It made working with his charity a chore and his select group small, but it was necessary.
“And,” Remi added, rubbing his hands up and down Peter’s back. Hands that were drifting over his ass, squeezing tentatively at first, then with purpose. “I know the way you make me feel.”
Peter sighed. “I love the way you touch me, Remi.” There was an unusual element to his tone, a growl beneath the surface that made Peter’s dick unfurl and stretch toward the source of his hunger. “Not much to fill in. My parents are dead, my only family is Kristoff, the Tollivers, and Caleb.” He moved more against Remi, drew himself over Remi’s echo of his own hardening dick. Remi’s surprised gasp choked off as he rocked back and forth pressing close.
The kiss this time started off sweet, an exploration until Peter slowly wielded the control, taking over Remi’s body. Peter wasn’t a small man, but he was smaller than Remi. Still, he held Remi close, his power exerting itself, as he dragged Remi’s lips to his. Peter’s teeth and tongue devoured and tore at him. He nibbled at Remi’s chin, raked against his neck. Peter’s breath was hot, his hands bruising as he was grasped Remi’s hips. Peter felt the tingling in his gums, his fangs preparing to descend.
There was a rush, a fierce burning in Peter’s veins. He hungered for Remi, his pulse quickening from having him near him, beneath him. The beings within writhed and twisted under his skin’s surface as he felt himself growing. Zings of energy running over him and Remi, so bright and so fast he barely saw them. So close, so ready. Just a little more and he would claim him. They needed Remi—they all needed him.
“You need to stop before we end up with more than just looks out here, Peter. I won’t be able to help myself with what you do to me,” Remi said breathlessly, gently moving Peter away from him.
Peter stilled, gaining a foot hole in the insanity. He struggled to control the red haze that enveloped his mind and nearly allowed him to claim Remi Devereaux in the middle of a public park. Peter made a sound that was more a growl even to him. Conscientiously slowing his breathing, he stepped back, fought the bands that still reached out, tried to bring Remi closer.
His skin was flushed, his long hair mussed from fingers. He licked his lips, puffy from the mauling kiss they shared. The creatures beneath were churning to get to the surface, but Peter was still holding tightly to the reigns.
“Goddess bless, but that was—”
“Damn. That was damn, Peter. I... I want.” Peter watched as Remi tried to catch his breath. He lay strewn across the tree, a sacrifice for Peter. His shirt was open, a few of the buttons missing. His chest rose and fell, his eyes wild with passion.
It wouldn’t take much, and Peter would have the big man on his knees, but now wasn’t the time. And, as if the Goddess was in agreement, Remi’s phone buzzed. In a daze, he answered, nodding as he spoke, his eyes never leaving Peter.
Peter listened to his heart race, the erratic pulse in his chest playing a staccato beat, then focused on hearing who called. Kaden, Remi’s partner. He turned away, giving Remi some semblance of privacy.
Peter smiled when he felt Remi’s hands around him, spanning his waist, his lips warm as they caressed Peter’s ear. “I have to go, but I want to see you again. Have to see you again,” he said.
Peter turned his head against Remi’s chest.
“You’re not alone in that feeling.” He looked up at Remi who was capturing his heart, making him lose control one moment, calming him the next.
Slowly, Remi bent to give Peter a soft, tender kiss filled with promises that Peter was going to make certain the human kept. The wolf within paced seeking a way to bring this, whatever it was, to a head faster while the nelapsi calculated, biding its time.
Remi’s pocket buzzed again. Peter backed away, licking his lips, running his tongue under and around his incisors.
Remi eyes drank him in before checking the screen. “I don’t know when we’ll see each other again, but we will.”
Peter smiled, following Remi’s motions which became more and more agitated the longer they stood there.
“We will. I can promise you. So, you have to go.”
“Yes.” Another buzz. “Let me take you home.”
“No, someone will pick me up. I’d rather not stop you from doing your job and doing it quickly. The De La Cruz family needs closure.”
“We’re doing our best to make that happen.” Peter reached out a hand to Remi which he took, and together they walked back to the incline where Remi parked.
Chapter Sixteen
“What. The. Fuck. Did you see how fast they moved?”
Remi and Kaden were back at the department viewing a recording of events that shouldn’t be happening.
Mark Dannon stood outside a store window clutching his bags to his body protectively. He was using them as a shield, trying to protect himself against whatever the fuck stood surrounding him, playing with him like a spoiled cat with its toy.
“The shopkeeper was paranoid, didn’t want to let the film go. Says it’s not a rough area, but he can’t be blamed for wanting to protect his merchandise. He doesn’t want anyone to know where the footage came from,” Chin said as they all sat staring at the screen. “Hell, I can’t say I blame him. Wouldn’t want these fuckers looking for me, either.”
They were tall, all of them. Soldiers, uniformed in slick black leather and dark colored shirts. The grimace—because there was no way the toothy smiles on their faces could be described as anything else—was menacing, eager. Hair long, whether braided or hanging loose was dark as well, except the one who seemed to be the leader.
His hair was blond, golden like the other who had to be a twin. They looked like angels as they closed in on Mark Dannon who pressed back against the wall. One said something, and Dannon shook his head, terrified.
Then, before anyone realized anything, he ducked and found an opening, tearing off down the street and out of view. The six just turned and watched him. One of the twins grinned then nodded at the others who laughed silently. After a moment, they disappeared in pursuit of their prey.
No one said anything for a while. This didn’t happen in real life. People moving faster than light? The kind of action they were looking at right now usually accompanied a bucket of popcorn. But, there it was right in front of their eyes. Now, what the hell were they supposed to do about it?
“Whoever or whatever they are, they’re a team. That’s apparent. They work together, moving in sync.” Remi saw it in the way they deferred to the one, read it in their angle, the way they worked to cut Dannon off expertly. He wouldn’t put it past them to realize they were being recorded and move the action someplace else, someplace where a man died drenched in his own blood.
“Yeah, and that one? He’s the leader, their captain,” said Thompson while he munched on pistachio nuts out of a crumpled bag.
“Has anyone run their faces,” Remi asked looking at the screen. Shit just got weird. Who was he kidding? It was already weird.
“Running Pegasus. Hasn’t made any hits. From what we can tell, these guys are unknowns—all of them,” Chin said with Thompson nodding in agreement.
“Well, if they work like this all the time, I can understand why. But, we have something here. We just need to see if we can find them, and maybe we’ll find the reason why De La Cruz and Dannon were killed, and if there is anyone else on the list,” Remi said.
Like Siamese twins—except one was Asian with a hard-on for basketball and the other a powerfully built black man who liked pistachio nuts—Chin and Thompson said, “On it” and walked out of the room.
Kaden was quiet the entire time they all watched the recording. Remi sat back in his seat and waited.
“There’s something deeper happening,” Kaden said finally.
“Yes. This is bigger than De La Cruz and Dannon.”
“Those messages weren’t m
eant for them. They were meant for someone who knows them. A warning,” Kaden said, his eyes wandering to Remi.
“We’re in agreement on that.”
Kaden nodded. “What did you find out?”
“Well, Peter wasn’t angry and neither was Mark for the breakup. According to Peter, they were more or less friends with benefits that didn’t go beyond much more than that. Seems Mark Dannon was more interested in what he could buy.”
“Well, the vic had your guy’s credit card on him which still connects the two of them. Doesn’t make much sense for him to be using that card when they’re not together.”
“Peter explained why.”
“Why it was okay for an ex to still have access to his money?”
“Well, he thought he owed that to him.”
“Owed it to him?” Kaden shook his head. The grunt he gave was doubtful.
“I believe him.” When Kaden stared at him, Remi didn’t back down. “I believe him. He thought it was the one thing he was able to give him.”
Kaden shook his head. “Well, the fact remains that even if they weren’t seeing each other, they were still involved. Evidently, someone knew. Someone who sent these guys here to discover why.”
“Yes, I’m connecting the same dots.”
“And, if these guys, hyped up on whatever drug they’re using, are what made Mark Dannon hamburger meat—” Kaden’s voice fell off.
“We don’t need to complete that picture. We won’t give them a chance to do it again, either,” Remi said. They were quiet for a moment, both letting their thoughts simmer before Remi went on. “Dannon’s death wasn’t a surprise to Peter.”
“Is that right?” They shared a look that confirmed what the other was thinking. Peter had a contact on the inside—Jawahir. Tall, dark, and quiet nodded when they’d spoken to him earlier, taking in everything and offering nothing. Seems he gave away all he learned elsewhere.
Kaden grunted. “Well, wasn’t like we didn’t suspect it.”
“And now, we know it has to be him.” Besides Chin and Thompson, as well as their lieutenant, Jawahir was the only one who knew they’d found bits and pieces of Mark Dannon scattered in his home. It was too much of a coincidence to learn the professor had a connection to Peter and then have the giant show up out of nowhere like a genie from Aladdin.
Suddenly standing in the doorway to the office was the man himself.
Remi smiled, “Speak of the devil.”
Kaden snorted.
Jawahir stood there, expressionless and waiting. There was no telling how long he was there or what he’d heard. Nothing on his face gave him away. He stood as if he would remain there all day—all night if he needed—while Remi and Kaden spoke to him.
Kaden suggested the deaths were a prelude to the real target. Musing aloud that the only connection the victims had was Peter Romanoff. Then, he watched for a reaction.
Remi’s breathing stuttered, but Kaden continued, the lift of his brow a sign for Remi to let him keep going.
It was a tactic they often employed when interrogating a suspect, one they’d used a couple of days ago to talk to the daughter of a restaurant owner whose boyfriend was missing. Not only was her daddy unhappy to learn she was pregnant, he’d completely lost his shit when he found out the person he’d killed was his future grandbaby’s father.
Kaden continued, “It’s either that or Peter’s involved in it somehow.”
“That’s not it,” Remi argued. “There’s no way.” Whether they were playing this for the giant or not, Remi was not having Peter implicated in any way. Still, Kaden knew his feelings, which was precisely why he’d said what he did. Remi would want to stand up for Peter, and he played right into that.
“Remi, you don’t know the man. His professor was killed as well as one of his old lovers, right? What if this is a publicity thing?” He nodded toward Jawahir. “Get people interested in him. Hell, he has a gallery show coming up. Publicity? Isn’t that what people like him do?” And there it was, a twitch in the icy façade.
“I’m willing to go with the messages being for Peter as he seems to be the only one connecting the two cases. But, there has to be more to this,” Remi said.
“It sounds like you should listen to your partner, Detective. As I have said before, Peter Romanoff has nothing to do with this. It is possible he may be a target, nothing more.” Jawahir looked at Kaden darkly as if he could will him to change his thoughts.
Kaden remained unaffected. “Something bothering you there, Jawahir? Migraine, maybe?”
His tone was glacial. “There is nothing wrong with my head, Detective. Mr. Romanoff has an alibi for the times in question.”
“Alibis are made to be broken. Men like him have the means to make what they want, happen.”
While Remi didn’t agree with the direction Kaden’s words were going, they were getting a rise out of their partner, more than the last time.
“You’ve only to ask. Peter Romanoff was at the gallery the day of the professor’s death,” Jawahir said.
“Not new information.” Kaden glanced over to Remi who’d spoken to the owner of the gallery about the photos Peter would exhibit on parenthood.
The gallerist practically gushed over the elusive Peter Romanoff’s exhibits. One of the images, she’d mentioned, would be of Peter staring off into the distance illustrating the loss of his own parents. How beautiful the imagery would be and how the statement of the actual artist would give voice to the need to support families. How the gallery was devoted to helping the children of men and women displaced by circumstance. It was plain to see she was more than pleased with the privilege of displaying his work.
“And, for the night Dannon was killed?”
“That’s simple. Peter Romanoff was visiting with his friend Caleb Waneek.”
“Yes, we’ve met Mr. Waneek. But, it’s all rather convenient, isn’t it? Is Caleb with him all the time?” Kaden asked, but Remi said nothing. It was their partner Kaden was trying to break, not him.
“The two ate dinner at Brazeiros that night, surrounded by friends and family celebrating the upcoming gallery show for Mr. Romanoff. Guests there included a few of the families featured in the showing. You may ask any one of them about Peter’s presence.
“Your time would be better suited to finding the killers of Marisol De La Cruz and Mark Dannon rather than attempting to place Mr. Romanoff somewhere he was not.”
“You seem to be very familiar with Mr. Romanoff’s actions.”
“I do.” They both waited to see if he would say more. Instead, he said, “Now, if you’ll continue.”
They described the search through Mark Dannon’s home. Nothing valuable was taken, not the television, jewelry, or anything else.
When the bookshelf was checked, they’d discovered the absence of a few photo albums. It couldn’t be determined how many were taken, but a few years were missing. The trail of dust where they should be was recently disturbed. Whatever Mark Dannon did as an analyst carried over to the obsessive organization of his home, so the missing albums stood out.
“What years were missing?” Jawahir inquired.
Remi’s eyebrows raised, “It was the time he spent time with Peter Romanoff.”
“Photo albums?”
Kaden nodded his head. “Yes, photo albums. Not sure why they would be the choice prize of bloodthirsty killers, though, unless they were looking for something the books contained.”
Remi considered. “Well, it does if they don’t know what Peter looks like.” This he directed to the giant who turned around and exited the room, his phone at his ear.
He and Kaden looked at each other, then toward the doorway where Jawahir stood talking, the name Caleb mentioned quietly but not nearly quiet enough.
Chapter Seventeen
“Pictures!” Kristoff growled. “How.”
“Technology,” Jeremiah said calmly from his desk as he leaned against it. Today
he wore a charcoal gray sweater. It was soft and more than tempting to touch. “It was bound to happen at some point or another.”
“Caleb was given explicit orders to keep Peter out of the media. No Facebook or Twitter. Nothing should have Peter’s face.”
“Even I, a fossil compared to this generation of plugged-in youth, know what you have asked of Peter’s second is an impossibility in this day and age.” Jeremiah slipped his hands into his pockets as he watched Kristoff pace back and forth.
“But, Aiden? The Sandman was supposed to blur him, make it difficult for humans to remember him, see him.” Kristoff ticked off all the avenues they used to keep his nephew safe.
“Aiden is not omnipotent, Kristoff. There are those determined enough to acquire what they desire beyond the scope of even a Sandman. And, think of Peter. He has disobeyed your request. Is there not a photo of him included in the showing? You know this. Do not pretend you don’t.”
“The boy—”
“The man, Beta. And soon, the leader of his father’s coven. His destiny.”
Kristoff’s roar reverberated against the walls before he slammed his hand down, the items careening off the desk.
* * * *
Peter looked over at his uncle from beneath lowered lashes as he sat in a chair across from him in his apartment. He’d returned home after giving the gallery a once over, ensuring everything was in the right place.
The lighting was very well done, and he’d loved the strategic placement of little children’s banks of various shapes and sizes around the room. So, whether his pictures pulled in the money he was expecting or not, there were opportunities there for anyone and everyone to contribute. It was a nice touch, one that would be appreciated.
It didn’t surprise him to see the massive wolf before him. Peter had no idea if his own wolf would be that incredible. The wolf within paced often, howling to be set free. But, Peter never possessed the control he needed to make that happen. Still, there were times when he felt it in the stretching of his skin, the tightness, but held back. The inability for either of the beings to give way was crippling, the force of them both tangible, but any form Peter would take remained to be seen.