Stanley, Gale - Undercover Lovers [Urban Affairs 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove)

by Gale Stanley

  He heard the front door slam shut as Mike left for work, and he got up to use the bathroom. He took care of business and stepped into the shower stall. The first shock of cold water sobered him up. Some people questioned the therapeutic value of a cold shower, but it worked for him. Alternating cold and then hot and then cold again was the key. A few minutes of shivering under the icy spray and he turned up the heat, adjusting the water until billowing clouds of steam filled the bathroom. The water pounding on his shoulders and back eased his tense muscles, but he felt incredibly depressed. At least now he knew why. He wanted something he could never have—a triad.

  Chapter Seven

  As a result of his new assignment, Mike now reported directly to 1 Police Plaza, the NYPD Police Headquarters. His new superior, Richard Graham, was an FBI officer who had been in place for the past year in an advisory capacity. Due to the rising unrest in the Were communities, Graham’s duties had steadily grown, and he’d been made director of the DSA, Division of Shifter Affairs.

  Now, Graham informed Mike that the FBI was planning to increase the scope of the DSA. He gave Mike the standard lecture. “You know why I’m here, Mike. My position was initially created to improve information sharing and cooperation between the various groups of the FBI, the CIA, and the NYPD. Federal affiliations with state and local law enforcement organizations were found to be extremely helpful in dealing with terrorism.

  Graham stopped to pour a glass of water from the pitcher on his desk. He offered a glass to Mike.

  “No, thank you, sir.”

  Graham took a swallow and continued. “The Department of Shifter Affairs was originally designed to prevent acts of Were terrorism before they occur. The DSA functioned in a watchdog capacity only. In these troubled times, in order to provide humans with the best protection against threats, it’s essential for us to be both reactive and proactive. Our objectives are identification, investigation, and now apprehension and prosecution. To that end we need a larger and more permanent team. I’m now in the process of selecting and training other NYPD officers to join us as undercover operatives, ready to infiltrate and integrate Were neighborhoods when the time is right. Rest assured, Weres will not be targeted in a discriminatory manner. Any actions taken will be strictly preventative at first, but the team will be trained to fight the sinister menace posed by animal shifters. The scope of cooperation…”

  Graham’s voice settled into a buzzing drone. Mike found his mind drifting. Graham liked to talk. He could go on and on and on about the valuable work of the FBI.

  Mike knew most of this already, and he’d expected that he wouldn’t be the only cop recruited for this special duty. Of course the Weres would not be happy about the increased security. Once this information got out, and it would get out eventually, relations between the Were community and the humans would only get worse. They already felt their rights were being violated. Mike tended to agree with them and he feared this would be seen as an aggressive move. Damn, there were no rules when it came to shifters—

  “…Wolfe is slated for termination. He’s been derelict in his duty and disobeying my orders to collect evidence on the target, Jaxon Castle, a known Were rebel. Slade hasn’t reported in, and I’m afraid he’s gone rogue.”

  Whoa. Hearing Jaxon’s name in the same little speech with the word termination made Mike sit up and pay attention. The blood drained from his face. He tried to speak and couldn’t, tried to breathe and couldn’t. “I…I, uh, don’t understand,” he stammered. “I’m still working this case.”

  “Not anymore. Your objectives have changed. As Wolfe’s superior I have it on good authority that he’s been collaborating with Castle and has taken himself off the radar. He may have been operating as a double agent all this time.”

  Good authority, my ass. The FBI had no problem spying on its own, especially when the agent was a Were. Of course they were watching their man. Wolfe himself knew it. So what could they have they discovered? That he’d bedded Jaxon. So what? Surely the Feds expected their agent would use any available method to get close to his target. How did that make Wolfe a double agent?

  Unless they heard something incriminating between the two wolves…No. Jax might have been swayed by a pretty face, but Mike knew in his heart he was no terrorist. Organizing anything that might kill others, even human others, was not in Jaxon’s character. Who would know better than me, his human boyfriend? But of course he couldn’t tell any of this to Richard Graham. First off, his superior would want to know why Mike hadn’t disclosed his relationship sooner. Before he knew what hit him, Graham would accuse him of being a double agent, and he’d be on trial for treason.

  “Your orders come straight from the executive office. Slade Wolfe is to be terminated. You’ll leave evidence linking Jaxon Castle to his death. When it’s done, you’ll call me and I’ll send in a SWAT team to pick up Castle. His motive will be revenge. Castle discovered Wolfe was a double agent and couldn’t be trusted. He became enraged. A fight ensued, and he killed Wolfe. End of story. We get two birds with one stone.”

  How did this operation spiral so out of control and turn into a cluster fuck of major proportions? And how was he going to handle it? Damn, he had no choice now. He had to go to Jaxon. Between the two of them they might be able to fix this and come out smelling like roses. If the Feds were calling Wolfe a double agent, killing him could work to their advantage. Mike had a reporter friend who could be convinced to help. The man could put him and Jaxon on the front page. Mike Donovan and Jaxon Castle take down Slade Wolfe, a dangerous double agent, a man working against the humans as well as the Weres. It could work…

  No. It couldn’t. Jax would never go for it. Slade is one of his kind. And in all probability, Slade has done nothing wrong—except fuck Jax and I can’t arrest him for that.

  “You were initially chosen for this assignment because we saw a friendship develop between you and Castle. I appreciate the lengths you’ve gone to in order to get closer to the man. It couldn’t have been easy for you. Unfortunately, it wasn’t close enough. If you had been able to get into Dogtown, we wouldn’t have needed Wolfe’s involvement. But that’s water under the bridge…After the successful completion of your mission, you’ll be promoted to team leader with a significant pay raise and the usual benefits. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” Oh, he understood all right, but the scenario wouldn’t play out the way Graham and his cronies expected it to.

  * * * *

  Slade paced his apartment. It wasn’t all that big, and his pent-up anger had him ready to punch the walls down. He needed to confront Mike—like now—but when he tried to call, he got voice mail. Was he still fucking with Jaxon?

  This is bad. Very bad. He still hadn’t called Graham back. The FBI waits for no man—or wolf. At this very minute Graham could be making plans to take Slade off the case in the quickest and easiest way possible. He had no delusions that he was indispensable to the Feds. There were any number of wolves, both good guys and bad, who would jump at the chance for money and immunity.

  The sudden buzzing of the cell phone Mike had given him made Slade jump and he grabbed it eagerly. “Wolfe here.”

  For a moment there was complete silence on the other end of the line, then Mike said, “We need to talk right now.”

  Damn right we do. “Where?”

  Mike mumbled something about the Andrew Green memorial bench in Central Park and broke the connection without waiting for a reply.

  Slade stared at the receiver for a moment in disbelief then slammed it down. What’s with all the cloak and dagger stuff? He thought Mike gave him an untraceable cell. And who the hell is this Green fellow? Slade picked up his New York Guide Book from the stack of papers on the coffee table. Andrew Hassell Green was a city planner who was responsible for the consolidation of the five New York City boroughs. A memorial bench was placed in Central Park to honor him. The guide book had a map of Central Park. Slade found the location of the monument and committed i
t to memory. Then he put both phones in his pocket, grabbed his car keys, and left the building.

  He felt the need to hurry, and he dived into the car and leaned forward to insert the key in the ignition. The bench was located at the site of Fort Fish, at East 106th Street, and Slade drove until he found a parking garage near that section of the park.

  Thank God for the guide book because the memorial would have been impossible to find. Considering the man’s contributions, Slade figured the memorial would have been given a better home than a lonely knoll. At last it came into view, and Slade saw Mike already sitting on the stone bench waiting for him. He tried to form his scattered thoughts into a coherent dialogue as he sat beside him. But Mike started talking before he could get his mouth open.

  “I think we’re being used.”

  Oh, fuck. “Being who I am, it was first thing I thought of, but I convinced myself our superiors were on the up and up. What’s going on?”

  Mike’s square jaw tensed visibly. “We’re supposed to be gathering evidence on alleged insurgents.” He stopped, seemed to be thinking over his next words. “I saw Graham this morning, and he ordered me to take a proactive stance in this operation. No more watching and waiting for evidence to turn up. He wants to bring things to a head.”

  Not surprising, but why didn’t I get the memo? “When I took this assignment Graham insinuated he’d look the other way if I had to manufacture evidence. Is that what you’re talking about?”

  Mike cleared his throat nervously. “Not exactly. He wants you terminated, Slade. Dereliction of duties. He says you’ve gone rogue.”

  Slade froze. He felt like Mike had dropped a bridge on him. Keenly aware of the peril surrounding him and Graham’s displeasure in his performance, he’d known he was in the doghouse, but to be accused of going rogue…

  “Slade?” Mike said softly. “You’re his target now.”

  Slade knew exactly what he was up against. He’d seen other agents in the director’s crosshairs. Then suddenly they’d be gone, supposedly retired to some south sea island. A cemetery more likely. “How is this supposed to go down?”

  “I’m supposed to get you and Jaxon out of Dogtown. Graham knows he’d been to my apartment—”

  “Yeah, so do I.” Slade swore under his breath.

  “What’s that?”

  “I followed Jaxon to your place. Just trying not to be derelict in my duties,” Slade said sarcastically. “You should have told me you were playing him.”

  Mike raised his chin, a defiant gleam in his eyes. “We’re not playing.”

  The words hit Slade like bullets. “You’re a couple?”

  “We met accidently and became friends then lovers. It’s why Graham recruited me in the first place. I didn’t want the assignment, but the more I thought about it, it seemed like a good idea. I figured I could help Jax more if I was working inside the DSA.”

  And the hits keep coming. “And Jax knows all this?”

  “No. He has a temper. I was afraid if he knew about the investigation he’d do something stupid and get in real trouble.”

  “There’s no way you can keep him out of it now.”

  “I know. In hindsight, I wish I had been honest with him. He’s not going to be happy.”

  “Neither am I. I wish you had told me sooner.”

  “I wasn’t sure I could trust you.”

  “And now you do?”

  Mike shrugged. “I have no choice. I want to keep Jax safe, and I need your help.”

  Slade laughed bitterly. “So if it wasn’t for Jax, you’d kill me without blinking an eye?”

  “You’re fucking my boyfriend. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”

  “You got it all wrong. He’s fucking me.”

  Mike was on him in an instant. “You bastard!” He threw a fast roundhouse that connected with Slade’s jaw.

  The thrill of the fight and repressed sexual tension loosened the tight control he held over his beast. Slade’s muscles started ripping under his skin. His face twisted, and his gums ached as his teeth lengthened.

  Mike’s expression changed from anger to shock to fear in a matter of seconds.

  Frightened prey turned Slade’s killer instinct on like nothing else—except jealousy. This human was a rival for his mate. Slade’s wolf wanted his blood. Bones snapped. His body contorted. The wolf dropped to all fours and cornered Mike against the bench. Baring long, sharp fangs, he snarled.

  The blood drained from Mike’s face, and he put his arms up to protect his eyes. “Slade. For God’s sake don’t do this.”

  Whose God? Not mine. Slade’s wolf had been restrained for far too long. The predator was out, and the prey was crying like a baby. He would have preferred a chase, but he’d settle for a quick kill.

  “Please. This will make things worse for all Weres. We can work it out.” Mike sank to his knees until he was eye to eye with Slade. He crossed himself. “They’ll frame Jaxon for this. You know it. Together we can help him.”

  Jaxon. Slade’s wolf stilled. He forced his brain to work. His mate would be captured, caged, killed…He could stop all that. Fur retreated, and the animal body shrunk into itself. Dazed, Slade shook his head. He was on all fours, his clothes hanging from his body in shreds.

  He looked up at Mike as if just awakening from a deep sleep. Mike let out a deep breath and raked a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. Slade stood on two feet and did what he could to fix his tattered shirt. Finally he took it off. “Did anyone see us?”

  Mike shook his head. “No. Hardly anyone comes to this area. That’s why I picked it.” He grabbed his crotch. “I think I peed myself.”

  Slade’s gaze went below the belt. “You wouldn’t be the first.” His blood lust had disappeared and left him empty of spirit. “Didn’t you ever see Jaxon shift?”

  “No. I asked, but he didn’t want me to see him like that.”

  “He was right. I’m sorry. When you hit me I lost control. It should never have happened.”

  “I shouldn’t have hit you.”

  “I deserved it. You and Jax are a couple. I’m the interloper here,” Slade said gruffly. “I just want you to know I only moved in on him because of the assignment. It meant nothing.”

  Mike looked back at him with a mixture of relief and skepticism.

  “Still want to kill me?”

  “I never did. You just pissed me off.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. Just to assure you, I had no intention of killing Jaxon, not unless he was involved in terrorist activities, and I don’t believe he is.”

  “Just to assure you, he’s not. I know him too well to believe that kind of crap. He stays out of politics, but if he did get involved he’d be all about peaceful integration.”

  “So. What now? Any ideas?”

  “Maybe. I think we need to go public.”

  Slade’s jaw dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “It’s the only way. The Feds are trying to swing public opinion against the Weres. We need to swing it back. Believe it or not, there are a lot of human sympathizers out there.”

  “And how do we get them to hear our side?”

  “I know a man on the Hoboken Bulletin. It’s a local newspaper from Hoboken, New Jersey—”

  “A local rag won’t help us.”

  “Just hear me out. It covers local, regional and national news, but bulletinreport.com can serve the world. Our story will be picked up all by the major news portals. We’ll be on the front page of Yahoo! News, Google News, as well as nytimes.com, USA.com, and a host of others.” Mike’s face grew animated as he got more excited. “Think about the bloggers. We’ll go viral.”

  “What about negative publicity?”

  “Sure, there will be some, but the point is we’ll be untouchable. The Feds won’t make a move on us while we’re the center of attention.”

  “And what happens when we’re not big news anymore?”

  “Believe me, this story isn’t going away a
ny time soon. It will inflame your people and their supporters. Help your cause.”

  “And maybe start a war.”

  “Change always comes with collateral damage. We’ll try to keep it to a minimum.”

  “And you’re sure your friend will go along with this?”

  “Yes. He doesn’t know about me and Jax, but he hates the government and the way they treat the shifters. Besides, his career is assured with this. He could win a Pulitzer.”

  “Okay,” Slade said with some reluctance. “We’ll play it your way. But we need to get together with Jax. After all, two wolf heads are better than one.” He managed a grim smile.

  Mike’s face fell. “This is the part I dread most. He has no idea who I really am.”

  “Let me talk to him first.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “He can take his anger out on me.”

  “Okay, do it. I’ve seen enough wolf for a while.”

  “We’ll meet tonight. Do you know a good out-of-the-way place?”

  “The Sleep Inn. It’s a motel in Hoboken. I’ll be registered as Mr. Lycan.” Mike winced when Slade started laughing. “Private joke. I’ll check in at midnight and wait for you to bring Jaxon. Stay safe.”

  Chapter Eight

  When Jaxon finally got back to The Kennel Club, he went straight to his office and the desk drawer that held his bottle of scotch. He poured himself a tumbler full and took a big swallow. He felt like shit. Too much drinking led to hangovers and heartache. Alcohol just complicated everything else, and he couldn’t think straight. Worst of all, it did nothing to help him get Slade out of his head. If Slade remained a fixture at the club, they’d end up fucking again. He had no doubt about it. The man was just too damn tempting. In all the time he’d been with Mike, he’d had no one else and he’d forgotten how it felt to be with another wolf. When he made love to Mike he always held back, just a little, afraid he’d hurt him physically. With Slade he could let go and not be afraid of anything. A shifter’s body mended quickly. Too bad the mind couldn’t heal as fast. Stop being so maudlin. Are you a wolf or a wimp? It’s the damn booze. This drinking has to stop. And it will stop, just as soon as I fire Slade.