by Lynn Hagen
Letting the curtain fall back into place, Kester sat at the table and ate like a starving man. He couldn’t believe he’d eaten everything as he sipped on his can of soda and turned the television on. The place didn’t even have cable. Just local channels, so Kester relaxed on the bed and watched the news.
He must’ve fallen asleep, because when he looked toward the window, light was shining past the curtain. He was also lying down, his clothes still on.
The clock on the nightstand read 8:32. Shit. Mike would be there soon. Kester hopped up and took a shower, groaning at how lukewarm the water was. What had he expected from a motel that didn’t have cable and had a perpetual smell of cheese?
It actually smelled as though there should be a closet filled with mothballs. But there wasn’t. He’d checked already. Whoever owned this motel needed their ass kicked. This place was so outdated and rundown that fifty bucks a night seemed too much.
Kester groomed himself in the mirror then dressed, wondering why he was so excited to see the delivery guy again. Sure, he’d been hot, but Kester felt eager as he looked out the window for the silver truck.
Maybe his stay in Maple Grove wouldn’t be as boring as he’d first thought. He’d yet to see the town, although Kester was sure it was so small that if you blinked, you’d pass it by.
His heart skipped a beat when the truck pulled into the parking lot, but Mike didn’t come to Kester’s room. He headed into the front office. Why would he do that? Was he looking to rent a room, too?
“Who cares,” he muttered to himself. Kester just wanted to get out and breathe in some fresh air. He needed to see the sights, even if they were pathetic.
He moved quickly away from the window when he saw Mike heading his way. Kester took in a deep, calming breath, trying to get his heart back to a normal pace as a knock sounded on the door.
Blowing out a few breaths, he swung it open and smiled. Holy crap. In daylight, Mike looked ten times sexier. He wore a Carhartt tan jacket, a black Henley, and nice-fitting jeans that sculpted his muscled thighs. Kester was dying to see how well they fit Mike’s butt.
He also wore a black baseball cap that was on backward. Had a sexier guy been born? Kester had to stop himself from grinning like a moron.
Or inviting Mike into his room.
“Ready?” Mike’s dark brown eyes sparkled as he smiled at Kester.
With a quick nod, Kester closed his motel door and climbed into Mike’s truck.
Chapter Two
His mate.
Mike gripped the steering wheel as he drove to town. He was still awestruck that the human was his mate as he turned onto Main Street and headed for the coffee shop. This didn’t seem real. He thought that maybe he’d been mistaken last night, but the feeling in his chest, his heart, and his gut wouldn’t let up.
The pull.
He’d had to force himself to stay away last night. His wolf had battled to return to the motel, but Mike had forced his beast to heel. Now Kester Oliver—Mike knew his real name because he’d stopped at the front office and looked it up—was seated next to him, his intoxicating aroma of a warm hearth filling the interior of his truck.
He pulled his pickup into a slotted parking space in front of Bistro and got out, waiting for Kester to join him on the sidewalk. The guy was short and compact, with hair so blond it rivaled the sun. His eyes were gray, but that one word didn’t do them justice. They were as soft as a wolf’s fur coat, as gray as thick storm clouds, and they stole his very breath.
He opened the door and allowed Kester to walk in first. The scent of freshly-brewed coffee clung heavily in the air as they approached the long counter. Mike tuned out the murmur of voices, the sounds of grinding coffee beans, and the piped-in music as he stared at Kester’s slim back.
What was his mate’s story? Was he just passing through town or visiting someone? Mike was dying to find out as Kester ordered his coffee. He reached for his wallet, but Mike placed a hand on his arm.
“It’s on me.” He gave his order to the barista then paid for their drinks, adding a few bucks to the tip jar. The barista smiled and told Mike good morning.
“Morning, Todd,” Mike said in reply. Todd Watkins was the owner’s son, about seventeen, with a friendly smile.
Kester eyed Mike. “You’re being awfully nice to me. Any reason why? Do you think a free coffee will get you a date?”
“Are you always this suspicious?”
“Only when a stranger is going out of his way for me.” Kester looked around before he walked to the end of the counter where their drinks would be placed when finished.
“How do you like your accommodations?” Mike leaned an arm on the raised portion of the counter. He looked over at a table of teens leaning over their drinks and talking in whispers, one girl blushing as some boy said something in her ear.
He spotted Derek Mitchell—a Bengal tiger who owned half the town—at a small table, typing away on his laptop, his mate, Steven, sipping from his cup as he watched what Derek was doing.
In line was Russell Hughes, a cheetah shifter and all-around handyman. He and Mike were good friends. After Mike had purchased Tilted from the previous owner, he’d hired Russell to tear down the bar portion of the tavern and build a new counter that was more efficient and more appealing to the eye. The guy had done one hell of a job.
He needed to remember to ask Russell to replace the lighting in the parking lot of the tavern. A few of the security lights had blown, making it dangerous at night.
Mike looked back at the counter when their cups were placed there, the barista calling out Mike’s name, although he was standing right there.
He swiped the cups and led Kester to one of the tables.
“The motel is okay,” Kester said when he sat. “The water is lukewarm, the covers are scratchy, the room smells like old cheese, and the woman behind the desk is a bit odd.”
Kester had no idea that Mike owned the motel. He also owned the local tavern, Tilted. And he’d bought the furniture store from Dr. Cormack when the human had retired. In truth, Mike had been meaning to update the motel for a few years now, but he never had the time.
With the businesses he owned and family obligations, there weren’t enough hours in a day. He just hoped his cousin didn’t call him right now. Mike didn’t have time to run to Theo’s rescue. It seemed his cousin had a knack for finding trouble and getting knee-deep into it. Mike, the family man that he was, had always bailed Theo out of the situations he seemed to get himself into.
“I’m sorry you’re not happy with your room.” Mike sipped his coffee as he stared into Kester’s gray eyes. “Are you up for some breakfast?”
“Actually, I was wondering if this town had a gym,” Kester said. “I’m jonesing for a workout.”
Mike would love to give his mate a workout, and not the kind that could be done in gym shorts and on a treadmill. He could imagine those small, slim legs wrapped around his waist as he buried his cock deep in Kester’s ass.
“There is one,” he said.
Kester’s eyes lit up. “Could you show me where it is?”
Mike didn’t want his time with Kester to end so soon, but at least he knew where his mate was staying. Kester wasn’t going anywhere since his Bronco was busted, so he didn’t fear his mate leaving town.
“I can drop you off,” he offered.
“That would be great.” Kester curled his fingers around his cup and smiled. That grin was like a punch to Mike’s gut. It was pretty, with straight white teeth, and charming, too. His wolf snarled to take Kester back to Mike’s house and claim him.
But Mike knew better. Humans had to be eased into the preternatural world. He didn’t want to scare off his mate. Kester was Mike’s one shot at happiness, and he wouldn’t do anything to screw that up.
“I tell you what.” Mike pulled out his cell phone. “Why don’t you give me your number, and whenever you need a ride, or someone to hang out with, you can give me a call.”
Kes
ter’s smile wavered, and he looked as though he was withdrawing inside himself. “I keep my phone off a lot. It would probably be best if I just got your number instead.”
That was an odd thing to say, and it only piqued Mike’s curiosity. Was Kester running from someone? Was that the reason he’d come to Maple Grove? Mike had seen Kester’s plates, and they said he was from Arkansas. That was a long way to travel if he was in trouble.
Mike kept his smile warm and inviting as he gave Kester his number. He needed to dig into his mate’s past and find out what was going on. He was good friends with Deputy Darren Christopher, and Mike didn’t think the coyote shifter would mind doing a background check on Kester, considering the human was Mike’s mate.
In truth, Mike would prefer to hear it from Kester, but he highly doubted his mate would be so forthcoming. All Mike wanted to do was make sure Kester wasn’t in serious trouble. He wasn’t trying to pry into his life. It was much more fun peeling back the layers and discovering who Kester was. But if someone was after his mate, Mike wanted to know, and sooner rather than later.
They exited the coffee shop, and he drove Kester to the local gym, dropping him off with a promise to return so he could drive his mate back to the motel.
As soon as Kester went inside, Mike drove to the police station. His mate had a unique enough name that a search without a social security number shouldn’t be that hard.
He nodded at the receptionist as he walked in. “How’re you doing, Sabrina?”
“Cold,” she said with a smile. “I hate winter.”
“Most do.” He looked around the waiting area. “Is Deputy Christopher in?”
“Right here,” Darren said as he strode Mike’s way. They clasped hands and shook.
“Can we talk in private?” Mike asked in a low voice.
“Sure.” Darren led Mike to his desk. There were two other deputies in the room, but they were human. As long as he didn’t talk too loudly, they wouldn’t know why he was there.
“I need a background check done.”
“New employee?” Darren sat in his chair and typed on his keyboard.
“Mate.”
Darren’s brows raised, then he smiled. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Mike said. “But I think he’s in trouble. His name is Kester Oliver, and he’s from Arkansas. That’s about all I know since I just met him last night.”
Mike should’ve memorized Kester’s driver’s license number, but he hadn’t a clue at the time that he would be in a police station asking Darren for this favor. The number probably would’ve helped in the search.
Darren typed in the information and clicked his mouse a few times. Mike knew that Darren used to work for a black ops company and that he was a whiz with computers. He hoped Darren had enough skills to find Kester with as little information as he’d given.
Ten minutes later Darren sat back in his seat. “He’s an aerobics instructor at some gym called Body Beautiful. He has an unpaid jaywalking ticket, and he was arrested once for protesting an animal shelter with shady practices. His father is deceased, and his mother is a retired school teacher. Kester is twenty-six years old, five feet six inches, and weighs one hundred and twenty pounds. Do you want me to go on?”
Mike furrowed his brows. “There’s nothing in there about an abusive boyfriend or any reason why he’d be on the run?”
Darren shook his head. “Sorry, but there’s no police reports about domestic disputes or him being in any kind of altercation. Aside from him breaking his ankle when he was ten, there’re no hospital records, either.”
That didn’t mean Kester wasn’t in trouble. Maybe whatever he was hiding from just hadn’t been reported. Or Mike could be overreacting. His mate could be the type of person who was just leery with strangers. After all, Mike had inserted himself into Kester’s life pretty fast.
“Thanks for looking.”
Darren clasped Mike on his shoulder when they stood. “No problem. If you find out why he’s on the run, let me know. We protect our own,” Darren said.
With an appreciative smile, Mike left the station. He might not have found out anything from the background check, but his gut told him Kester needed his help, and he planned on keeping a close eye on his mate.
Because if trouble came looking for Kester, Mike would be there to protect the human.
* * * *
“This is amazing,” Kester said when they walked into the diner. “It’s so retro. I love it!”
Kester was beginning to see the charm of this small town. It wasn’t what he’d expected. The gym had had all updated equipment, including a sauna and an impressive locker room. He’d been tempted as hell to become a member, but Kester had refrained from signing up.
Instead, he’d used a guest pass and got his workout on, although he’d had to purchase workout clothes that the gym sold. And now his entire body ached, but in a good way.
He set his new gym bag next to him with his shorts and Grove Groove T-shirt inside it. Kester had watched the aerobics class just outside the door, dying to go in and join them. The instructor had been phenomenal with an upbeat attitude. But Mike had shown up, so Kester had taken a quick shower and changed back into his street clothes before they’d left.
“Please don’t tell me you’re gonna eat a salad,” Mike said as they grabbed a booth.
Kester grinned. “Do you think I got this body naturally?” His smile faded as he grabbed a plastic menu from the metal ring. “I’m not ashamed to admit I was a pudgy kid who got picked on a lot for my weight. But once I hit high school, I worked my ass off to shed my extra pounds and have been keeping them off ever since. It’s not easy, though. I’m a sucker for home-cooked meals and sweets.”
Why had he admitted that? Kester never talked about his pudgy years and the self-esteem problems he’d had. Still had at times. His parents had loved him no matter what, and he’d been grateful they’d provided him with a safe and loving home.
Couple his weight problem with being gay and Kester’s life had been hell. Even his cousin Nunzio had picked on him throughout Kester’s early teen years. He was still a pain in the ass whenever they had to be around each other, but Kester was adult enough to ignore the jerk.
It was Nunzio’s dad that Kester feared. Uncle Strabo was bad news all around. He was involved in everything from racketeering to trafficking, including humans. Strabo was so shady that he should’ve been shrouded in perpetual darkness.
Strabo and his son Nunzio were Loup Garou, a rare breed of shifters from Cajun folklore. Raw aggression bled from them, as well as inhuman strength. They were from Kester’s father’s side, Strabo being adopted as a young boy.
When Kester was still in his youth, his father had revealed to him that Strabo and Nunzio needed to be put down. They were a dangerous breed that wouldn’t hesitate to kill those around them, including family. Kester still suspected that Strabo had murdered his own mate, but he’d never found any concrete proof. She’d just disappeared one day and hadn’t been seen since.
Kester shuddered and forced those thoughts away then noticed how closely Mike was studying him. Kester’s gaze swung toward the door, and his heart sank. He stiffened as he watched a stranger walk in, and he swore the guy looked like Agent Gugino.
Kester jumped from his seat and raced to the bathroom. His heart wouldn’t slow down as he shoved the door closed and locked himself in a stall.
There was no way Gugino had found him, not this fast. He shouldn’t have been able to find Kester at all. He hadn’t used a credit card. But he had to be mistaken. Kester’s mind was playing tricks on him.
He reached for the lock on the stall when he heard the bathroom door open. Kester froze, listening to whoever had come in. The person didn’t make a sound. Not a single sound, as though he was using a urinal, going into the other stall, or washing his hands. The room was dead silent.
That made Kester slow his breathing. He eased away from the stall door and pressed his back against the wa
ll, hoping whoever it was would leave. If his Bronco had been running, Kester would’ve gone back to his motel, grabbed his bag, and gotten out of town.
For the time being, though, he was stuck in Maple Grove.
Kester slapped a hand over his mouth when someone tapped on the stall. His heart beat so fast that it hurt, and his lungs burned from holding his breath.
“Come on out, Kester.”
It was Mike.
Wait. How did he know Kester’s full name? He was positive he’d used Kes. He didn’t think Agent Gugino had that long of a reach that he knew who Mike was and that the two were working together. There was no way that was possible, but Kester was still leery about Mike’s sudden attention.
Knowing he was busted, Kester opened the stall door. “I was just using the bathroom.” He gave Mike a tight smile and hurried over the sink to wash his hands. Kester didn’t look at the guy. He didn’t want to see the doubtful look in Mike’s brown eyes.
Mike leaned against the wall by the door and crossed his beefy arms. “I know fear when I see it, and you had that in spades when you raced in here.”
“I was just afraid I wouldn’t make it to the bathroom in time.” Kester grabbed a few paper towels and dried his hands. “I’m all good now. We can go back to our table.”
The intense stare Mike gave him made Kester hurry around the guy and leave the restroom. He spotted the stranger who had triggered his panic.
It wasn’t Gugino. Aside from height and dark hair, there was nothing similar between the two. He’d freaked out for nothing and made Mike suspicious of him.
Screw sightseeing. Kester would stay in his motel room until it was safe to return home. He needed to be seen the least amount possible, and he needed to stay as far away from Mike as he could.
Speaking of, Mike returned and slid into the booth. Before either of them could say anything, a waiter came over.
“Hi, I’m Kenny. What can I get you guys?” The dark-haired waiter with stunning blue eyes smiled. “Nice to see you in here, Mike.”