by Jools Louise
“Don’t fuck with me,” Daniel said dangerously, curling his lip. “You’re not irreplaceable.”
Vince Smith stared at his employer through cold eyes. “And you’re not as safe as you think you are behind bars,” he retorted fearlessly. “Any man who preys on women and children and gets others to do his dirty work is no one to fear. I’ll do what I’ve been paid to do. Get you the location of the millions you’re so desperate for. I wouldn’t advise you to rush things. I go at my own pace. Mistakes can be deadly,” he said, meeting Daniel’s gaze meaningfully. If Daniel decided to send people in to help, Vince would eliminate them if they got in his way. He didn’t like this job, but he had people to pay. He knew that Daniel was watching him, that the man didn’t trust him, but hell. Who did?
He stood, glaring at Daniel. “I’ll let you know when the job’s done.”
Then he nodded to the guard, someone he knew from way back, and left the prison. One word from Vince and Daniel would go to sleep one night and never wake up. Stuff happened in prison. Daniel should bear that in mind.
Daniel would get his money, but no way was Vince going to hurt those children anymore. He frowned as he hopped into his F-150 and sped out of the lot. He’d hit the boy, Drew, and for the first time in years, felt a twinge of regret. Then he smiled. Drew hadn’t backed down, despite his situation. The kid had balls. Another twinge perked up his cock. Fuck. That wouldn’t do. He had a job to do, which didn’t include getting horny around a cute, twenty-two-year-old young stud with attitude. His cock didn’t listen. Fuck. He was in trouble. He wanted the mark. Now he had to decide what to do about that. Because he was pretty sure that Drew was his mate. And that could never happen. Fuck.
* * * *
John read a text message he’d received. What the hell? “Petrovsky murdered this morning. Snow leopard shifter. Male. Wasn’t you. Make sure Jay has an alibi.” John had contacts at the prison where Petrovsky had been sent once he’d left the hospital. He’d been badly injured after attacking John’s family. And John knew that once he’d recovered, the bastard had already been starting up his old network again.
“Whoever you are, friend, I salute you,” John muttered, shoving his phone back in his pocket. He just wished he’d thought of it. “Hope you rot in hell, Nikolai.” Then he retrieved his phone again, and sent Ice, aka Viktor Petrovsky, a message to let him know. Viktor had suffered at Nikolai’s hands and was now mopping up Petrovsky’s operation in Russia. He would soon be home, though. Nikolai had been Viktor’s adopted brother.
“Thanks, John. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Wonder who the assassin was? Not hiding a secret past as well, are you?”
“Fucker thinks he’s a comedian,” John growled, smirking at the jibe. He and Ice had served together in Special Forces. Then he frowned, thinking about a guy they’d recently let loose after interrogation. The Commander bore more than a passing resemblance to John, but so far they’d found no link to John’s mother. He fired off another text to Drew and Cullen. Those boys had mad skills with computers and were fairly decent cyber detectives. Perhaps they could take another look.
Chapter Two
“Hey, Callahan,” Drew called to his friend, who was manning the espresso machine at Café Anglais. The man was a little older than Drew, in his late-twenties now, compared to Drew being only just twenty-two. Blond, green eyes, and a mountain lion shifter, Callahan was a fixture of Sage and had been since rescued from a bunker in Idaho. He’d been imprisoned by a vicious, shifter-hating cult, and left to die with several others. That had been about the time when Ethan and the wolverine shifters at Two Spirit Ink had been discovered beneath the town of Sage, nearly starved to death. Callahan had been in Sage for years.
“Hi, Drew,” Callahan greeted, his gorgeous eyes sparkling with good humor. His expression turned serious as he viewed the black eye the younger man sported. “Who did that to you?”
“I’m clumsy.” Drew shrugged, flushing when Callahan came around the counter and cupped his face, staring into Drew’s eyes.
“No, sweetie, that looks like a knuckle imprint,” Callahan responded, narrowing his focus. “Who did this?” he asked firmly.
“I was attacked at the college last night,” Drew admitted, his flush deepening when he saw John and Ethan, working in the back, pay attention.
“You didn’t report it,” John said in a dangerously quiet voice. “Why not?”
Drew met John’s gaze, frowning. “I had help,” he retorted. “Maizie was there. The guy ran off. I got his license plate, but haven’t had a chance to run it, yet,” he lied. It had been the first thing he’d done the night before, once he’d fended off concerned questions from his mother and brothers. Admitting that, however, would be a mistake. Hacking the DMV and FBI database was illegal. Who knew?
John snorted, eyeing him with amusement now. “Sure,” he said dryly, obviously not believing him. “Who hit you, Drew? Tell me, or I’ll get Pace in here…or pull your ears, whichever works best.”
Drew rolled his eyes. “His name is Vince Smith,” Drew finally said, sighing. “He’s a mercenary. I couldn’t get much more than his name, and where he used to live. Kansas.”
“Like that’s ever stopped you,” Callahan drawled, grinning, but his eyes showed his concern as he brushed a thumb over the dark bruise on Drew’s cheek. Drew met the man’s jade stare and felt his world shudder to a stop, seeing something he’d never witnessed in Callahan’s gaze before now. Probably because he’d never stood so close to him. He scented sugar, coffee, cinnamon, and something else that caught Drew’s attention in a vise-like grip. And his pulse began to thud back into renewed life, vigorous and overwhelming.
“I…er,” Drew stammered, swallowing hard. He tried to focus on the diamond stud glinting in Callahan’s earlobe, the hint of stubble on his firm jaw but kept admiring the plump softness of the man’s lips. Oh, boy. He’d thought he must be straight since he’d never had such a strong reaction to a guy before. But Callahan was sending his libido into orbit.
“Why would anyone attack you?” Ethan asked, leaning on the counter after placing a tray of freshly baked croissants in a large basket atop the display cabinet.
“Drew’s been playing with fire,” John interjected. “And someone isn’t happy about it.”
Drew grimaced. “Vince mentioned my sperm donor,” he said morosely. “Apparently, Daniel thinks I know where all the money is that was stolen from Flashpoint and wants it back.” He glared at John. “That money was my mother’s, not his. She earned it painting works of art. He’s not getting his grubby mitts anywhere near it so he can harm people.”
John eyed him with some sympathy. “If Daniel’s involved, he won’t stop. You know that, don’t you? And he’s already managed to get to Flint and Moe. If he can’t get what he wants from you, he’ll target your brothers…or Kathleen.”
Drew blanched, feeling sick. “He needs to be stopped.”
“Yes,” John agreed. “The question is, how many others has he gotten to in town? Daniel’s been active for years now and has his claws embedded deeply. That’s the only reason he’s still alive. We need to track his network of informers and allies. And he’s proving a tricky feline to pin down. He’s clever, resourceful, and perfectly aware of how vulnerable you all are. Look at what happened at the school. Flashpoint has friends in all kinds of useful places.”
“Then let’s declaw him,” Callahan suggested sharply, his thumb still caressing Drew’s face. “He’s been allowed to control his little corner of Wyoming for far too long. Thinks he’s invincible. Let’s disillusion him.”
John grinned at that, a wicked glint in his eye. “Perhaps I’ll pay the bastard a visit. Take Sherman with me. That might put the fear of Sage back into him.”
Drew smiled slowly at that, implicitly aware of Callahan’s soft touch. He tried to focus on the conversation. “Yeah, my brother will give him something else to think about. Sherman won’t be happy that Daniel’s still playing games.”
“I know exactly how much he cares about his family,” Drew said bitterly, focusing on the countertop instead of Callahan’s succulent butt. “Daniel has no loyalty to anything but his bank balance. I’m not a fool. I know firsthand what he’s capable of.”
Callahan nodded. “Definitely no fool,” he murmured, raking Drew with a sultry look that set Drew’s pulse racing again.
“Er, thanks. I’ll have a coffee please,” he said, glancing at John, who smiled knowingly.
“You do know that when I explain to your family what actually happened last night, your whole world will shrink to the size of your bedroom, and Sherman will have you guarded morning, noon, and night?” John said, arching one brow.
Drew grimaced and snorted. “Give me a few hours lead time, will you?” he responded. “It’s been a while since I was grounded.”
“What did you do this time?” Sherman asked in his gravelly voice, stalking in with his mate, Chaz, who grinned at Drew’s pained expression.
“Fuck!” Drew blurted, raking a hand through his longish dirty-blond hair. “This week’s gone to shit already, and it’s only Tuesday.”
Sherman clapped a large hand on Drew’s back and turned him around. “Hmmm. Nice shiner.”
“Vince Smith. Mercenary working for our daddy dearest. John wants you to go visit him to remind him you all are the baddest asses in Wyoming,” Drew said succinctly, earning himself a round of laughter from everyone as he preempted Sherman’s interrogation.
“See?” Sherman said, looking amused. “That wasn’t as difficult as you thought, was it?” he said to John. “No thumb screws needed. Just my gentle touch.”
Drew flipped his brother off, rolling his eyes. “You already knew?”
“We knew you lied last night when you told your family you walked into a post,” John retorted. “Maizie told us the rest.”
“Fucker!”
“Language, young man,” the woman in question drawled, and he jumped, not realizing she’d entered the café, as well.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Your mother’s asked me to keep an eye on you,” Maizie told him cheerfully, a glint he didn’t quite trust in her eyes. “Due to recent circumstances, you’ve been granted a week off from your studies, and since I’m free myself, I’ve volunteered to be your guardian angel.” Groaning, he clapped both hands over his face.
“Fuck it!”
They all laughed again, especially Maizie. She was enjoying herself at his expense.
“Coffee all ’round?” she said, chuckling. “Then me and the nipper can get going.”
He peeked through his fingers. “Going?”
“Yes,” she said. “Ryder wants a word.”
“This is getting worse,” he muttered.
“Oh yes,” she agreed cheerfully, winking. “He has Sherman breathing down his neck for ‘letting’ you get hurt.”
Drew stared at his brother, who crossed his arms over his huge chest, daring Drew to protest. “I don’t need a babysitter,” he said, pouting. “I can take care of myself you know. I’ve been taking classes at the gym. Your classes, for Christ’s sake.”
“You didn’t learn, though, did you?” Sherman retorted. “Your assailant could have stuck a knife in your ribs without you even knowing what the fuck was happening. That means, despite your delicate sensibilities, that you certainly do need a keeper. And Maizie fits the bill perfectly. The guy who attacked you didn’t want you dead, or you would be. Next time you might not be so lucky.”
The door opened again, and they all glanced that way to see a six-foot, four-inch mountain wander in, his hair a mess of brown and gold, eyes an intriguing pale gold, his physique as broad as Sherman’s, showing no emotion as he glanced casually around. His face had a lived-in look, craggy and yet gorgeous at the same time. He looked at John and Sherman, then away as though dismissing them. Drew frowned at his attitude. This man was on a mission.
“I have a message for you, Drew,” the man said, looking directly into Drew’s eyes.
Drew started and sniffed the air. “You!” he cried, pointing. “You’re Vince Smith.”
Sherman snarled and leaped at the man, fangs bared, all power and testosterone-charged fury.
At the last second, Vince darted to the side, punching Sherman in the ribs with a sharp, breath-stealing jab, and ended up beside Drew, a taser against his temple, his thick forearm around the younger man’s throat. Drew froze, not even daring to breathe. Vince had moves, that was for sure. And that scent teased his nostrils. Mint and a hint of chocolate. And what the hell was he doing noticing the man smelled really good?
“Now, are you going to listen, or shall I just take Drew with me so we can talk in peace?” he asked, dangerously soft and totally calm.
Sherman looked furious, and Maizie grunted as she studied Vince astutely.
“Talk,” John said coldly, his green gaze icy.
“Indeed,” the mercenary replied coolly. “I’ll take a flat white with that. To go. I won’t be staying long.”
* * * *
Callahan ducked behind the counter, out of sight, grabbing a paring knife as he went. Stealthy as a ghost, he stalked Vince, who had his back turned to Callahan, positioned at the opposite end of the counter to Callahan.
His lips curved into a sneer as he eyed his prey. Fucking pussy, thinking himself so cool when he was surrounded by top predators. He glided closer, his gaze fixed on the man’s brawny back and the Taser positioned far too close to Drew’s beautiful face.
Vince Smith had just stepped into the wrong arena. Sage took care of its own, and they didn’t like their people threatened. Suddenly Vince whirled around, his eyes flaring with surprise when he found Callahan within touching distance…then crumpled to the ground as Callahan sank his fist into the man’s face a second later, after knocking away the weapon with a high kick that shattered the guy’s wrist.
“Pussy!” Callahan snarled, baring fangs. “Threatening people in our own fucking town? I don’t think so.” The man began to sit up, shaking his hand, and Callahan finished him off with a brutal uppercut that half lifted him off the ground, rendering him unconscious.
Drew looked as though he was going to puke, visibly shaken.
“Didn’t think I’d let him hurt you, did you?” Callahan asked gently, breathing hard as he tried to control his rage, drawing Drew closer and enfolding him in a tight embrace. He sighed with relief that Drew hadn’t been harmed. Drew didn’t know it, but Callahan had been enamored with him for some time, sensing they were mates. Drew had just turned twenty-two and was turning into one outstanding hunk of manhood, pushing all of Callahan’s buttons.
“Dude, that was awesome,” Bryce called from the back room, peering through the hatch.
Callahan grinned at his friend. “Thanks, Bryce. I keep telling you. I got skills.” Bryce snorted, then ducked back into the kitchen again where he was preparing bread dough for the following day.
Sherman moved closer, grabbed the unconscious guy and threw him over his shoulder, making it look easy despite Vince’s size. “I’ll take this one to Ryder,” he said, curling his lips up into a vicious smile. “We’ll find out what he’s all about. Took balls to come in here like that. The guy is either crazy or…hell. He must just be crazy.” He left the café, his dreads bouncing a little as he and Chaz took their charge to the Warrior HQ.
Drew’s gaze wandered after the trio, an
d he frowned. Who was Vince Smith? He had the feeling that there was far more to Vince than just being an employee of his father’s. His nostrils still tingled from the scent of his assailant. He shivered, recalling the feel of all that hard muscle against him. If he hadn’t just been attacked, he’d be drooling over Vince. The man was a stud. Then he shook himself mentally. He must be crazy. He was having such a strange week. Thinking he was straight, and now having daydreams about not one but two hunky guys. One of them a mercenary working for Sage’s deadliest enemy.
What was Vince’s deal? Nobody just breezed into Café Anglais like that. Vince hadn’t been cocky exactly, just indifferent to the danger he’d been in. And determined to speak to Drew who wondered about the kind of man who could show no fear like that. He himself had been through some tough times. Mostly at the hands of his father, Daniel.
He trembled a little, remembering those times, his eyes sliding to look at Callahan, who’d shown some serious courage taking on Vince like that.
“Thanks,” he said shyly, flushing a little as Callahan met his regard, a hint of something…heated, entering his gaze. “That was intense.”
“Anytime, gorgeous,” Callahan said quietly. “Now, how about that coffee,” he added, waggling his eyebrows teasingly. Drew nodded, feeling nervous like a newly tried colt being handled for the first time.
He saw John’s knowing look and flipped him off. He didn’t need the guy teasing him. Not so soon after he’d nearly had his brains fried. He moved along the counter, taking a deep breath, and waited for his coffee. Then he waited among his friends for news of Vince Smith’s business in Sage.
* * * *
Callahan kept a close eye on Drew, finishing his shift a couple of hours later, then sat at his friend’s table, taking the seat opposite. Drew was so intent on what he was doing, he didn’t so much as glance up, which gave Callahan a chance to study his beau, unhindered.
He sipped his espresso, enjoying the rush of caffeine hitting his bloodstream, injecting much-needed vigor. He’d been there since the early hours, helping get the café set up for the morning rush. He loved working here. It was a far cry from some of the places he’d worked in the past. He wondered whether Drew would look at him in quite the same way if he knew what Callahan’s life had been like in the past.