Prickly Business (Portland Pack Chronicles Book 1)

by Piper Vaughn

  If a white-hot stabbing pain shot through his chest at that conclusion, he ignored it. Nothing would change his mind.

  His morning passed in a blur of loose cylinder heads and busted camshafts. Lulled by the comforting clanks and whirs around him, Dylan let time get away from him until a shadow loomed over him. Wiping the sweat from his forehead onto his shoulder, Dylan inhaled and the spice of earthy citrus filled his head and his belly tightened. His intentions of backing off flew out the window when he turned and met Avery’s eyes. Avery’s disguise of typical arrogance didn’t hide the sadness and hurt beneath his surface. Protectiveness welling inside him, Dylan pushed to his feet and leaned in close to Avery. “What happened?”

  Chapter Five

  MONDAY MORNING Avery woke with the sun, the tension in his belly a better wakeup call than any alarm clock he’d ever owned. Grogginess plagued him as usual. Even a lifetime of trying to acclimatize couldn’t alter his intrinsic nocturnal nature, and it was especially bad the day after a shift. Still, anxiety propelled him from his comfy bundle of blankets before dawn.

  Feeling foolish, he carried Dylan’s jacket to the small eating area across from his open-plan kitchen. He draped it over the back of one of the reclaimed-wood chairs surrounding the matching dining table—but not before lifting it to his nose for one last deep inhale. Avery moaned quietly and petted the soft leather. Then he forced himself to walk away.

  Why did Dylan’s scent appeal to him so much? It was like the most decadent cologne Avery had ever smelled, designed with his every specification in mind. One he could finally enjoy despite his sensitive nose—musk, spice, and the sharp, fresh scent of pine. He wanted to shift and roll himself around in it, wanted it on his sheets and pillows.

  Ugh. Ridiculous. Goddamn pheromones. That’s all it is.

  Avery shook his head. His nervousness increased as he prepared himself a cup of his favorite organic, fair-trade apricot-honey rooibos. Usually brewing tea had the opposite effect, but this morning his apprehension grew with every passing moment.

  Hands shaking, he grabbed his steaming mug and his phone from the counter where he’d tossed it the night before. He settled at the dining table—next to Dylan’s jacket, of course, which made him roll his eyes at himself, but whatever—and stared down at the screen, rubbing his thumb across the menu button at the bottom.

  Dylan had told him to come by his shop, that he’d help Avery out of this mess with Josiah and the others. Problem was, Avery didn’t know how he could face Dylan today, not after he’d seen Avery at his lowest last night, not after the way he’d clung to Dylan so tightly.

  Now Dylan knew how weak he really was. How could he walk into that shop with his head held high when he’d had to be rescued like some helpless storybook damsel? When he couldn’t do anything to defend himself but roll up and cower in fear?

  Avery sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. No, he couldn’t go to Dylan. He’d find a way to return the jacket, and then he’d stay away.

  His only option was calling his father again.

  To build his courage, he took a few moments to sip his tea, relishing the sweet, fruity flavor on his tongue. Then he pulled up his father’s contact and dialed.

  His father answered after two rings. “Avery.”

  “Hi, Daddy. How are you?”

  “Fine. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Avery swallowed. “Remember when I called you last week, about getting my allowance early?”

  His father’s sigh rang loud and clear. “Yes. Don’t tell me you’re calling about that again. It’s five more days, boy.”

  Avery reached for Dylan’s jacket with one hand. He paused with his fingers just shy of the leather. “Yeah. Yeah, I know, Daddy, but the thing is… I’m in trouble.”

  “Trouble? What kind of trouble?”

  As if they had a mind of their own, his fingers gripped the jacket sleeve. “I… I owe people some money. Some of the pack.”

  His father was silent for long, deadly seconds. “The pack? Why would you owe them wolves money? I told you I didn’t want you associating with them.”

  “It was some stupid bets, Daddy.” Avery forced a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “On the races.”

  “Horse racing?” His father sounded incredulous—and with good reason. Avery had never shown any interest in horse racing in his life.

  “No.” Avery’s fingers tightened around the sleeve. “Wolf races. It’s a competition, you know? Kind of like an obstacle course out in the mountains.”

  “You….” His father choked. After a long moment of sputtering, he drew in a slow, deep breath, in what Avery knew was an effort to calm himself. “You’ve been betting on wolf races. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how much do you owe?”

  Avery hesitated. “Um. Fifteen thousand. But I have seven already,” he rushed on before his father could speak. “I just need—”

  “Fifteen grand! You lost fifteen thousand dollars to those filthy dogs?”

  Avery cringed at the fury in his father’s voice, resisting the instinctive urge to curl in on himself. He was gripping the jacket sleeve so tightly his hand ached. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I swear I am. I’ll never go back there again. This was the last time.”

  “Oh, this will be the last time,” his father said darkly. “Heaven help you, because I surely won’t.”

  Avery hunched his shoulders, the phone trembling in his grip, his skin prickling. He felt the beginnings of a stress shift and quickly tamped it down. “Wh-What do you mean?”

  “Your mother and I are tired of bailing you out. We’re tired of how you constantly mismanage your money, and betting on those dogs is only adding insult to injury. Enough is enough.”

  “But, Daddy, they’re threatening me. They took me to the woods and hunted me last night. They might kill me if—”

  “Well, then maybe that’s what you deserve, isn’t it? I allowed you to move up there to get you out of my hair. I should’ve known you’d still find a way to be a thorn in my side. It’s all you’re good for. But see, now you’ll learn the lesson—when you associate with trash, you can’t expect them to behave like decent folk.”

  “But—”

  “Take heed, Avery, because I won’t repeat myself. We will not be sending you more money. We are done. If you want to survive, you’d better man up and find your own solution. Hell, find a job. If you can’t, well, all I can say is, whatever those dogs do to you, you probably had it coming.”

  Avery flinched at the harsh words. He and his father had never been close, but he hadn’t expected such callousness. How could his father be so dismissive about a genuine threat to his life? “Daddy—”

  “Shut your mouth. Don’t you ‘Daddy’ me. You’re a disgrace to the Babineaux name. I’m ashamed to call you my son. If I could find a way to keep your trust fund away from you, believe me, boy, I would.”

  Avery heard his mother speak in the background. “What’s happening, Leon? Why are you shouting?”

  “Cynthia. Cynthia, you will not believe!”

  Avery listened as his father raved to his mother. For several minutes, all he heard was his father yelling and his mother’s softer voice trying to calm him down. He held the phone in a white-knuckled grip until, finally, his father’s attention turned back to him.

  “Look, your mother’s convinced me to cut you a little slack, though Lord only knows why. She’s as tired of cleaning up your messes as I am. You owe her a world of gratitude for saving your hide.”

  “Thank you, Daddy. I promise I’ll—”

  “We’ll cover the rent on your loft for three months,” his father continued as if Avery hadn’t spoken. “Utilities, credit cards, groceries, those’ll continue to be your responsibility. After the three months, the rent will revert back to you as well.”

  “But I can’t afford—”

  “Not another word. This is my final decision. Keep arguing, boy. Give me a
reason to change my mind. I’d love to see how you’d fare living on the streets for a while. Or maybe you’d just go begging to one of those wolves and degrade yourself even further.” His father made a disgusted sound.

  Avery bit down hard on his lip to stop its quivering. His stomach had twisted into hellish knots, burning so intensely the sensation had him nearly doubled over. His vision wavered between color and his faded hedgehog vision as he fought back the need to shift, his animal struggling to defend him from his own distress.

  “We’ll be sending the money for the rent directly to your landlord, since you obviously can’t be trusted to handle it on your own,” his father went on. “You’ll have until the end of December. And if by some miracle you do manage to get yourself out of trouble, don’t call us again unless you have news we’d actually be happy to hear. Maybe not even then. Your mama doesn’t need the stress, and neither do I. We’d both prefer to keep you out of sight and out of mind. Understand?”

  “Y-Yes, sir. Understood.”

  The line went dead in his ear. Avery dropped the phone and pulled Dylan’s jacket fully into his lap. Shaking, he buried his face in the leather and tried to breathe.

  SOME INDETERMINATE amount of time later, Avery lifted his head. In a daze, he showered and dressed. He was still eight thousand short of what he owed Victor, and he couldn’t rely on his allowance for any of it. If he gave Victor every dollar he had, how would he survive? He’d have a roof over his head, but no money for food or other expenses.

  Avery couldn’t quite believe he’d been cut off or the things his father had said. His stomach cramped at the memory. Without his parents, he had nothing. He couldn’t access a penny of his inheritance from his grandfather until he turned twenty-five. That was two years away. How the hell was he supposed to get by?

  Find a job, his father had said. As if it were that easy. Avery had never worked. Neither of his siblings had, until his older brother joined his father’s law firm. His sister still didn’t. She’d married into an equally affluent family and spent her days involved with charity work and local committees, as befitted a beautiful Southern belle of her standing. And Avery, well, apparently he was the screw-up of the family. The shame on the Babineaux name. The ne’er-do-well. A soon-to-be-dead one unless he scraped together the remains of his tattered pride and went to Dylan.

  His need to save face paled in comparison to his desire to actually live another day—and he didn’t think any additional reprieves would be coming from Victor after what had happened last night. His father was right. It flayed his already wounded ego, but he would indeed go begging to one of “those wolves” if it meant keeping his neck unbroken.

  Decided, he gathered his wallet, keys, and Dylan’s jacket, and left the loft. He took the elevator down to the parking garage and his rarely used Mini Cooper. When possible, he preferred his bicycle, both for the fresh air and the exercise, but depending on which route he took, it would be about a forty-minute ride from his building to Dylan’s shop on the southeast side of the city. He shuddered at the idea of being totally exposed on the back of a bike if Josiah and the others waited for him outside.

  THE DRIVE went quickly, and the tea in Avery’s stomach churned more violently with every mile. By the time he parked and walked up to the entrance of Green’s Customs, his palms were damp with sweat and his heart felt like a hummingbird trapped in his rib cage. He was certain every wolf in the shop could hear it beating erratically as he stepped inside, even above the sounds of equipment.

  A tall guy with model looks and carelessly elegant blond hair spotted Avery the instant he entered the shop. Avery recognized him as one of the shifters Dylan regularly hung out with—Luke? Lucas? Lucky? Avery couldn’t remember for sure, and the guy wasn’t wearing coveralls with his name stitched over the breast like in most mechanic shops.

  “Hey. I’m Lucas,” the guy said as he approached, answering Avery’s unvoiced question. He held out a big hand and grinned, his vivid blue eyes crinkling at the corners, scruffy unshaven cheeks lending a sexy appeal. “You’re Avery? Dylan said you’d be coming around.”

  Avery draped Dylan’s jacket over his left forearm so he could accept the handshake. “Yeah. Hey. Nice to meet you.” He peered around Lucas, searching. In any other situation, he might’ve taken another moment to appreciate the rather fine view Lucas presented, but right then, with Dylan’s scent nearby, he couldn’t spare the shifter more than half a thought.

  “Likewise.” Lucas stepped back and tipped his chin toward the opposite end of the shop. “Go on back.”

  “Thanks.”

  Avery made his way to the place Lucas had indicated, not failing to notice the attention he garnered on his way there. The wolves eyed him like a juicy lamb who’d accidentally wandered into their midst, but none of them spoke.

  He found Dylan crouched next to a motorcycle, a Harley-Davidson, which Avery only recognized because of the popularity of the brand. Dylan looked up at him, and Avery’s heart stuttered. He found himself both calmed and electrified when those dark brown eyes met his. It was an odd feeling.

  “What happened?” Dylan growled as he shot to his feet.

  Avery barely prevented himself from stepping back. He swallowed and opened his mouth to answer, but Dylan raised a hand to stop him.

  “Not here. Come with me. We can talk in the office.” He grabbed Avery’s upper arm and guided him to one of the closed doors down the hall from the main area of the shop.

  The office wasn’t overly large, but it was neat. Framed vintage motorcycle posters were the only decor, along with a few official-looking certificates. A midsized desk housing an older computer sat facing one wall. Several filing cabinets lined the wall to its right, and to the left was a worn black leather couch.

  It was there that Dylan led him, though he crouched in front of Avery instead of sitting next to him as Avery expected.

  “Did you have more trouble with Josiah?” Dylan asked.

  Avery shook his head and offered Dylan his jacket.

  Dylan took it but tossed it aside without a glance. He settled his hands on either side of Avery’s thighs. “What’s wrong, then? You look—” He broke off and rubbed a hand over his short hair. For a second, his eyes dropped from Avery’s. “You look sad.” He gritted out that last part like he resented Avery for it… or maybe as if he resented whatever reaction he was having in response.

  Even as betrayed and miserable as he felt at his parents’ abandonment, Avery’s body heated at Dylan’s proximity. Dylan’s tank top put the bold, dark lines of his tattoos on full display. They extended from his shoulders, onto his pecs, and down past his elbows on both sides, swirling patterns Avery couldn’t decipher. He wondered briefly if they meant anything.

  Before Avery could speak, Dylan continued, “I don’t know what you were thinking tangling with Josiah and the others. They’re not the type of wolves you want to have as enemies. What did you do to Josiah, anyway?”

  Avery bristled at his tone. “I didn’t do anything to Josiah. It’s Victor who—”

  “Victor?” Dylan stood and glared down at Avery from his full height. “It was Victor who sent them after you? Why?”

  “I owe him money,” Avery mumbled. “Fifteen thousand. For the races.”

  By the way Dylan cursed, Avery could tell he knew exactly which races Avery referred to. “Do you have a death wish, kid? Victor is not someone to fuck with. How could you be so stupid?”

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” Avery snapped, his anger building. “I’m not stupid. I’m not a kid either. I had a good tip, okay? Or at least I thought it was good. It could have happened to anyone.”

  “I’m sorry.” Dylan ran his hand over his head again and paced to his desk and back. “It’s just…. Fuck, Avery. You could’ve been killed if I wasn’t there last night. Do you understand that?”

  Avery deflated, his anger abandoning him as abruptly as it had flared up. What right did he have to get mad when he was here to beg
for help with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs? “Yeah.”

  Sighing, Dylan grabbed the desk chair, spun it so the back faced Avery, and straddled the seat. “Tell me what happened at the races.”

  After a brief hesitation, Avery did. He dropped his gaze to his hands, which were fisted in his lap, and choked out the whole, pathetic story: how he’d placed a bet on the underdog wolf based on a tip from a friend; how he’d felt when that wolf lost, leaving him fifteen grand in the hole; how he’d managed to gather seven thousand of what he owed by selling off some of his possessions.

  When he was finished, Dylan looked at the clock above his desk. “Come on. We have plenty of time before the bank closes.”

  Avery gaped at him. “Huh?”

  “I’m lending you the money,” Dylan said. “I’ll give you all fifteen thousand. We’ll go see Victor right now.”

  “But… but you can’t. I already told you I have seven. Besides, I don’t even know when I’d be able to repay you, and—”

  “We’ll worry about that part later. Better you owe me than Victor.” Dylan got to his feet and pulled a set of keys from his desk drawer.

  “I didn’t come here to ask for money. I was just hoping you could help me convince Victor to—”

  “Look.” Dylan turned on him, dark-eyed and serious. “Victor won’t leave you alone until he has his money back or you’ve paid him a blood debt. You don’t have the money. I do.”

  Stunned, Avery blinked up at him. “But we’re not mated. You don’t even like me.”