by Bru Baker
He didn’t relish leaving at the asscrack of dawn to go get her, so maybe he’d spend the night with Jackson and Jordan next week so he could leave for the airport from their place.
Sleeping in the same apartment as Jackson would be a special torture. Harris had only done it half a dozen times, and the experience always left him both wishing he hadn’t stayed and wishing he could stay longer. It was hard for his wolf when their scents mingled, though having Jordan’s scent in the mix tempered things a little. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back without it. It would take the situation from uncomfortable to unbearable.
He tuned back in as Anne Marie was wrapping up. Everyone had special projects to work on to ready the campers and the camp itself for Candice’s arrival. The wolflings had all been raised to respect other Weres’ privacy and keep the secret, but this was a big secret to keep. Their gooey little brains weren’t fully formed yet, but impulsive behavior would get everyone in a lot of trouble.
“Harris, we’re hiring Fang and Fury to do a security audit and beef up the protection around the camp. I’m putting you on point with that since you’re friends with them. Find out their installation plans and let me know. We’ll put them up for as long as it takes, of course. They can stay with Drew.”
Harris’s heart leaped. Fang and Fury was Jackson and Jordan’s private security firm, which meant Jackson was coming to Camp H.O.W.L., maybe for several days. They must have been hired recently since Jackson hadn’t mentioned it last time they talked.
“Will do.”
“The system is due some upgrades anyway, so don’t worry too much about a budget. We’ll make it work somehow, especially since if we handle this right, we could get more high-profile wolflings. They pay a premium for the extra security, and I like being one of the few camps in the country who can accommodate them.”
Camp H.O.W.L. was one of the premiere camps in the US, if not the world. They had kids come from all over, including overseas, to take advantage of the Olympic-quality athletic facilities, the luxury cabins, and the chef Anne Marie had poached from a Michelin-rated restaurant. The quality of the food was wasted on the palate of the average nineteen-year-old, as evidenced by the food fights that broke out and the number of times kids tried to order a pizza and have it delivered to the secret werewolf camp in the middle of a national forest. Harris despaired of the future sometimes. Then again, the kids were going through the most stressful thing in their young lives—the Turn. A few weeks ago, their bodies were human. Weres had no physiological difference from humans until they entered the Turn the first full moon after their nineteenth birthday. These kids were experiencing super senses and getting to know a whole different body on top of the usual teenage hormones. It was a miracle anyone made it out alive.
Security around the camp was already serious, so Harris had a hard time imagining how it could be tightened. Then again, that was literally what Jackson and Jordan did with their security business, Fang and Fury. If there were weaknesses in Camp H.O.W.L.’s security, they would find them.
“I’m heading over to Lexington to see them tomorrow,” Harris said. “I’ll confirm everything with them and make sure they’re all set with their credentials.”
They were both frequent visitors to the camp, but the security system required updated tokens to gain entrance. For staffers in Camp H.O.W.L. cars, the beacons installed in the vehicles were enough to trigger the facial recognition camera, which allowed them in. Visitors had temporary tokens and were buzzed in by whomever was manning the control center. It was a pain sometimes, but it kept the wolflings safe and the werewolf secret under wraps. They were free to run around the camp shifted with no fear of exposure, which was practically unheard of anywhere else.
“I was going to mail them a long-term token, but if you’re going over, you can take it. They’ll be coming and going a lot, and I don’t want to keep issuing temporary tokens, especially since they might need to access the control center in a crisis. Tell Jackson he should work on getting them added to the visual recognition software.” She paused and frowned. “If he thinks it’s a good idea, of course.”
Harris had never seen Anne Marie defer to anyone for any reason and was surprised she’d put so much trust in Jackson and Jordan.
She must have picked up on his curiosity. “Part of Candice’s requests was to have Fang and Fury provide security assistance while she was here. They’ve made a big name for themselves in the supernatural world. I was planning to hire them for our upgrade anyway, so this just moved my timeline forward. I’ve been around Jackson enough to know he’s a trustworthy guy, and Jordan gets on my last ever-loving nerve, but his instincts are good. They’re a good fit for us.”
She had no idea how true that was. Harris had been friends with Jackson, Jordan, and Drew since college—and lusting after Jackson for nearly that long. Being with them was easy. There was no other way to explain it. Jackson, Jordan, and Drew felt like home to him, which was ironic because St. Louis wasn’t his home. He’d grown up in the San Francisco Pack. He was still on the books as a Pack member there, though he hadn’t been back in years.
Why go back when he had everything he needed here? Drew liked to joke that Harris was a common-law member of the Garrison Pack in St. Louis, since he went to a good number of the Pack ceremonies and celebrations. He liked the Pack well enough, but Jackson was the real reason he kept going. And Drew and Jordan. But mostly Jackson.
And now he was going to spend the day with him and at least part of a week with him next week. Starlet or not, things were looking up.
Chapter Two
JACKSON hauled his duffel bag up on his shoulder and pushed through the crowd at the gate. He’d been up for forty-eight hours, and he didn’t have any patience for the people chattering around him.
He hadn’t checked any baggage for his two-day trip to New York for his interview with the Werewolf Tribunal. His usual uniform of a polo shirt and cargo pants had been as dressy as he needed to be, especially since most of his interview took place on a sparring mat in the Tribunal Enforcer gym.
Jackson nearly wept with relief when he saw Jordan’s car waiting at the curb. Jordan could be a gigantic flake sometimes, but he almost always came through when it was important.
“You look like warmed-over shit,” Jordan said when Jackson opened the door and slid into the front seat.
“Then I look better than I feel,” Jackson muttered. He tossed his duffel over his shoulder into the back and slumped against the seat.
“That bad?”
“Worse,” Jackson said. He closed his eyes, which felt dry and scratchy from his lack of sleep and the recycled air on the plane. “The interview lasted a day and a half.”
Jordan whistled through his teeth. “That’s a lot of meetings.”
“No,” Jackson said, cracking one eye open to look at him. “That’s one meeting that went for thirty-six hours. They were looking at how I handled stress.”
“Damn. What did they do?”
“After the face-to-face interview, I sparred with a few Enforcers, and then they had me research some cold cases. After that I was put in a hood and dumped on some Pack land outside the city. There was an obstacle course, and once I completed it, more sparring and some shifting drills. Then I had to find my own way back to the Tribunal headquarters.”
“That’s one toughass interview.”
It was, but there was a good reason for it. Tribunal Enforcers were the best of the best. There were twenty district Enforcers applying for the open spot, and all of them had impressive track records in their own region. Jackson had tough competition for the job.
“You made it back, though.”
“I did. And as soon as I got back they took me to the airport and told me they’d be in touch in a few weeks.”
“That’s kind of fucked.”
“The test or the wait time?”
“Both,” Jordan said, and Jackson snorted out a laugh.
“It’s the big
leagues.”
“Sucks you have to wait, but since you’re going to be here for at least the next few weeks, I guess I should tell you I signed with a new client while you were gone.”
Jackson sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, sitting up. “Can this wait until tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow Harris is coming, and I know better than to expect you’ll get anything done with him around.”
Jackson’s stomach lurched. He’d forgotten Harris was coming. They’d made the plans weeks ago, well before the Tribunal Enforcer job had opened up. Jackson hadn’t told him he had applied. He usually told Harris everything, but for some reason he’d held this close to his chest. He’d told Drew, but he’d asked his stepbrother not to mention it to anyone else. Jackson needed to be the one to tell Harris.
“What’s the job?”
“High-profile camper. Anne Marie sent over the file. We’re going to need to do a full overhaul and come up with some new security protocols.”
That must mean high profile, then. They made the two-and-a-half-hour drive a few times a year to clear the camp when a tycoon’s kid or some foreign royal came to Camp H.O.W.L., but they usually had more lead time than this.
“Last minute?”
“They didn’t want the news to leak, so her parents didn’t enroll her until Thursday.”
Fuck. An upgrade at Camp H.O.W.L. would usually take a month or more to plan. Luckily things were pretty solid there, but there were additional layers Fang and Fury would have to put in place and not a lot of time to do it.
“Who’s the camper?”
Jordan’s face lit up, so Jackson knew this was going to be bad.
“Kandie Bates.”
The name didn’t ring a bell. Jackson kept track of all the prominent Were families because Pack politics was an important component of his job. He knew a lot of the Weres in both government and entertainment, but only because Fang and Fury had worked for most of them.
“She’s an actress. Her parents are going to bring us on to consult on her personal security and exposure risks after she finishes at Camp H.O.W.L.”
“They’ll be bringing you on. I’m going to be moving to New York, and Tribunal Enforcers aren’t allowed to freelance.”
“Or have Pack bonds or relationships or anything that would make them like the rest of us mere mortals, I know,” Jordan said. He’d turned away, but Jackson could hear the eye roll in his voice.
Jordan didn’t want him to go out for the Tribunal job because it meant he’d have to leave the Garrison Pack, and it pissed Jackson off that Jordan couldn’t see why it was so important. “There’s a good reason for all that.”
“You don’t have to cut ties to be a regional Enforcer. I don’t see how it’s any different.”
Jackson ignored him and settled back into his seat. They’d had this argument half a dozen times since Jackson applied for the job. Jordan kept talking, but Jackson sank into his exhaustion and fell asleep.
“WHY are you cleaning?”
Jackson pulled his head out of the microwave and scowled at Jordan, who’d hopped up onto the counter and was eating a muffin.
He’d slept most of Saturday, recovering from his Tribunal Enforcer interview, and woken bright and early this morning in a panic because the apartment was a mess and Harris was coming.
“Harris will be here soon, remember?”
Jordan arched a brow at him and took another messy bite. Jackson’s fingers twitched to knock the muffin out of his hands. There were crumbs all over the floor he’d just swept.
“Whassa big deal?” he asked around his muffin. “It’s just Harry.”
Jackson finished wiping the dried-up gunk in the microwave—courtesy of Jordan reheating chili last week without a lid—and threw the sponge in the sink. “He doesn’t like it when you call him that. Don’t be a dick the second he walks in the door, okay? Give it at least ten minutes before you make him want to commit homicide.”
Jordan shoved the remainder of the muffin in his mouth and dusted his shirt and hands off onto the floor as he hopped down. “Be a shame if you had to arrest him,” he said sweetly.
Jackson smacked Jordan’s hand as he reached for a bag of chips. “I will fucking help him if you don’t stop making messes!”
They’d grown up almost as close as brothers, so living with Jordan hadn’t been much of a transition when they moved into a place together in Lexington. But there was a difference between living with Jordan and living with Jordan, and it was sometimes hard to manage both. He was a disgusting slob. Jackson wasn’t a neat freak, but he’d classify his housekeeping style as more “living out of clean laundry baskets instead of putting the clothes away” as opposed to Jordan’s “host a house party for cockroaches” approach.
They’d made it three years without ruining their friendship, but Jackson didn’t know how much longer that would last. Another reason to hope his application to transfer to the Enforcer headquarters at the East Coast Tribunal was accepted.
Jordan had been itching to move back to St. Louis, and if Jackson moved to New York, nothing would be keeping him here. Right now, Jackson was a Tribunal Enforcer in Lexington, which was great. He enjoyed the work he did, and it allowed him to keep his full-time job with the police department. But a spot at the Tribunal headquarters for a regional Enforcer had opened up, and he wanted it. As part of the East Coast Tribunal’s Enforcer squad, he’d be working cases that were more important and higher profile. It was a way for him to scout around and get to know different Packs too. He’d need to make a name for himself if he wanted to be a Pack Second someday.
The screech of the oven timer drew him out of his funk, and Jackson grabbed the pair of wolf-shaped pot holders Harris had given him as a housewarming present to take the cinnamon rolls he’d been baking out of the oven.
“We’re literally going to lunch as soon as he gets here,” Jordan said. He reached out to snag one, and Jackson grabbed his arm and twisted him into a rear wristlock, making Jordan yelp in pain. “Fine, fine. I won’t touch his precious cinnamon rolls.”
Jackson let him go, and Jordan rubbed at his wrist even though his Were healing would have kicked in the moment Jackson released him. Such a drama queen.
“You are aware you’ve been possessed by June Cleaver, right? I mean, you were up at like seven this morning doing laundry. And I could eat off every surface in this apartment, it’s so clean—”
Jackson looked up from icing the cinnamon rolls and bared his teeth. “Try it.”
“—and now you’re freaking baking. What is up with you, dude? You know Harris doesn’t care if there are socks on the lampshades.”
Jackson sighed. “There should never be socks on lampshades, Jordan. And I was up early because I realized we don’t have clean sheets. What if he decides to stay over?”
Jordan snorted. “He’s not going to stay over. You have to work tomorrow. Why is he coming anyway? We’ll be down at Camp H.O.W.L. on Monday. You two can braid each other’s hair and share gossip about cute boys then.”
Jackson took a breath and reminded himself that he enjoyed working for Fang and Fury, even if his boss was a total asshole. Reporting to Jordan was an exercise in patience. Luckily, the work was interesting and part-time. Most of his coworkers at the station freelanced, so it wasn’t a big deal when Jackson needed to switch shifts to accommodate a Fang and Fury client. He did it for plenty of other officers for their off-duty gigs.
Jordan tossed a pot holder at him when Jackson didn’t respond. “I’m just saying, I hate it when you flirt in the living room. The stink lingers for days.”
The temptation to put Jordan in a hold again was strong. Maybe even handcuff him to something in Jordan’s room so he would leave Jackson alone. He’d done it before. Jordan had snapped them, and Jackson had to pay for the replacement cuffs out of his own pocket. He couldn’t explain that his roommate had used werewolf strength to break the steel, so he’d had to tell his commanding officer he lost them.
/> “He wanted to go to that Korean place he likes so much,” Jackson said. “And you make it sound like it’s a big deal. It’s just a two-hour drive. We don’t live on the moon.”
Jordan stroked his chin. “What would happen if we lived on the moon, do you think? I mean, would it be like the pull of a full moon all the time? Do you think there have been any werewolf astronauts?”
Jackson was used to Jordan’s non sequiturs and didn’t bother answering. He’d be musing about a new topic any second now.
He busied himself putting the cinnamon rolls on a plate. Jordan was right—he was acting weird. He was amped up and unable to settle. Little things like the chili in the microwave were unusually infuriating. It was almost like nesting.
It had to be stress about the promotion. He’d flown out for the interview a week ago, and they told him they’d get back to him in a month. There was no point worrying about it—either he had the job or he didn’t. Nothing else he could do about it right now. Except clean his apartment, apparently.
Down the hall, the elevator swished open, and he focused his hearing further, picking Harris’s heartbeat out as he walked down the hall. Some of his nervous energy settled knowing Harris was here.
Jackson was finishing up with the rolls as Harris unlocked the front door with his key. Jackson had never really thought about why he trusted Harris with one before now. Drew had one, since he was Jackson’s stepbrother, but even Jackson’s former boyfriend Raoul hadn’t been given that kind of free access to their place. But when the landlord had asked how many keys they’d needed, he’d answered four without thinking. Huh.
Harris’s scent arrived in the kitchen a second before he walked in, and it hit Jackson like a punch to the gut. Harris smelled tired but good. Like a pine forest in a storm—heady, with the faintest hint of ozone and smoke. He’d never noticed before.