Prickly Business (Portland Pack Chronicles Book 1)

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Prickly Business (Portland Pack Chronicles Book 1) Page 29

by Piper Vaughn


  Between the two of them, Avery and Dylan gave Wallace a quick rundown of the situation. They skipped a hell of a lot of information, but Dylan said they could provide those details later. For now, Avery made sure to mention the girls in the back, and Dylan pointed out that Harris, Melnyk’s partner, was also involved, though he wasn’t currently at the warehouse.

  It was clear from Wallace and the other cop—Garza’s—face they’d had no idea Melnyk or Harris were dirty.

  Wallace swallowed and shook his head. More sirens approached. “You guys need to get out of here.”

  Dylan nodded. “We’re going.”

  “Do you need a ride somewhere?” Garza asked.

  Dylan’s hand tightened on Avery’s. “No. My car’s nearby.”

  “We’ll be in touch,” Wallace said. “Now get going. We’ll handle it from here.”

  Avery didn’t know how exactly they would “handle it,” but he didn’t have to be told again. He tugged Dylan’s hand to get him moving.

  They were a few feet away when Avery remembered his missing possessions. He stopped and turned back to Wallace. “My phone and wallet were gone when I woke up in the cell. I don’t know if they have them or what. And, fuck, I have no idea what happened to my car.”

  “I’ll see if I can find anything. Just go. Now.”

  Avery nodded and followed as Dylan took the lead. They rushed down the stairs beside the loading dock and started across the lot. Wallace and Garza’s vehicle sat with the lights still flashing. Avery’s heart thundered as he stuck close to Dylan’s heels. There was blood trickling from Dylan’s arm, mingling with the rainfall. The wound had to be throbbing, but Dylan had apparently put the pain aside for now.

  When they reached Dylan’s Firebird a few warehouses away, Dylan pulled open the driver side door and leaned inside to grab something from the backseat. He tossed Avery a T-shirt. “You drive. Keys are in the sun visor.”

  “Okay.” Avery pulled on the shirt. He was soaked, and it was huge on him but a step up from being naked.

  Dylan’s expression spoke of his agony as he pulled on some jeans. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice rough.

  Avery settled behind the wheel and started the engine while Dylan walked around to the passenger seat. As soon as Dylan was inside, he put it into drive and floored the gas pedal. “Your place or mine?”

  Dylan groaned. “Mine.”

  Avery nodded. “Okay. But you have to help me. I’m not sure where I am.”

  Dylan directed him until they reached an area Avery recognized. They made the rest of the drive in silence, with Avery occasionally sneaking peeks at Dylan. His eyes were closed and blood seeped sluggishly from his wound, but he was alive, and he was breathing. They both were. Avery clung to that knowledge. It kept him from falling apart.

  Later, they could talk to the shifter cops, make sure they understood about Lacey and everything else. And in time, they would find Lacey too. Avery wouldn’t rest until it happened. But for now, they needed to get back to Dylan’s place and get that bullet out of his shoulder so he could start the healing process. Everything else could wait.

  DYLAN INHALED sharply through gritted teeth. Motherfucker that hurt.

  If he thought getting shot was bad, it was nothing compared to the excruciating pain of having his mate dig a deformed bullet out of his shoulder. That shit was beyond words. And still none of it mattered in the face of nearly having Avery taken from him. Dylan would go through it all again and do it the same way, no regrets, to have Avery by his side.

  He grunted and jerked his shoulder back then wished he’d kept his pansy mouth closed when Avery’s teary eyes met his.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered and Dylan knew he was apologizing for more than the physical pain.

  The flames of hell and a billion fucking needles raced down his arm, stealing his breath and his words.

  Avery tore his gaze away to focus on Dylan’s shoulder. Dylan didn’t look. Couldn’t. He was having enough trouble hanging on to consciousness as it was without adding the sight of his own blood painting Avery’s hands to the mix.

  When he could breathe again, he ground out, “Not your fault.” Then he dragged in heaving gulps of air over and over until he didn’t feel so light-headed.

  A sound somewhere between victory and misery tumbled from between Avery’s lips and then the fire in Dylan’s arm turned into a blazing inferno as Avery grasped hold of the contorted bullet and slowly extracted it. A tortured cry crept up the back of his throat. Dylan did good to hold it to a whimpering gasp. Lights flashed around the fading edges of his blurry vision, but he was still able to see tears, welling in Avery’s eyes and streaming down his flushed cheeks. Anguish flooded those hazel depths. And even in his suffering, Dylan felt a need to comfort his mate. If only he could think past the red haze of torment threatening to pull him under.

  “It is my fault,” Avery sobbed, blinking tears away. His Southern drawl seeped in underneath his self-berating. “If I hadn’t gone, if I’d only talked to you, we could have figured something else out and, and….” Avery’s breathing stuttered on an inhale as he shouldered away the wetness pouring down his face. “You wouldn’t have got shot.”

  Without Avery digging around in his shoulder, the burn eased. It throbbed, keeping time with his pounding pulse, and his vision began fading at the edges, closing in quickly.

  With the last of his waning strength, he lifted his uninjured arm and cupped Avery’s jaw, forcing him to meet Dylan’s eyes.

  “You did what you did because you care about Otis and Lacey and those kids.” His voice felt strained and thin. “And look at what you’ve done. You’re a hero.”

  Avery gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m no—”

  “You are.” Dylan let his hand drop, and his eyes slid shut.

  “Dylan?” He heard Avery’s panicked voice from far away.

  “I’m jus…,” he slurred around a huge yawn. “I’m gonna sleep for a minute, ’kay?”

  He thought Avery might have said something, but he didn’t understand the words, nor could he force his lids open.

  Unable to fight it, he let his world fade into the blessed black of nothingness.

  DYLAN CAME awake with a start when his front door crashed open. He jackknifed, sitting up without thinking, and groaned at the humming ache in his healing shoulder. In a couple of days, his shoulder would hold little more than a jagged scar and maybe a twinge in bad weather. He should thank his lucky stars that bullet hadn’t drifted a few inches to the left.

  Uninvited, Terrance Odell, followed by Lawrence, Broderick, and Russell, charged into his living room like an angry version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears.

  Odell’s mouth twisted as if he was going to say something, but then Lawrence cut him off, stepping around Dylan’s coffee table and jabbing a finger in his face.

  “What the hell were you thinking, boy? You could have exposed us all with your half-assed plan. Do you ever fucking use that pea brain of yours?” Lawrence seethed, his face turning purple.

  Dylan wondered how long it would take for his father’s head to actually pop off his shoulders. His attention was once again diverted when Avery shot out of the chair to his feet to stand in front of Dylan. Lawrence focused his rage on him.

  “And you,” he began, thrusting a beefy finger at Avery.

  But before Dylan could stop his father from turning his hate on Avery, Avery shoved the bigger man backward.

  “And me what, asshole?” he barked, and Dylan’s eyes shot wide, stunned to silence. Broderick and Russell stood quietly watching the argument volley back and forth, and Dylan didn’t miss the twitch of amusement at the corner of Broderick’s lips. “None of us would even be in this situation if any of you had listened to me in the first place. But you were too busy with your bigotry and self-importance to worry about a missing pack member. And now look what’s happened.”

  “And you thought you’d take it upon yourself—”

  “Who
else was going to do it?” Avery cut him off once more. “You? While the entirety of the pack hierarchy is sitting around with their heads up their collective asses, there’s a girl out there who is lost and scared and more than likely alone. And who was out there looking for her? Me. That’s who. It sure as hell wasn’t you.”

  “Avery, watch your tone, son,” Odell warned, his voice calm and even. Yet he practically vibrated with frustration. “It’s not your place.”

  Odell didn’t lose his temper. Ever. Still, he ruled the pack with an iron fist. His word was set in stone and rarely did it change. Unlike Law and his tendency to change his mind on a whim.

  Avery huffed and turned his ire on Odell. “Then whose place is it, Alpha? You certainly weren’t listening, your detectives quit searching, and the ones who were on the case were the fucking bad guys. Do you think the girls—Lacey—are just gonna magically reappear?”

  Odell growled, anger thick in his rumble. “We still don’t know that Lacey—”

  “Bullshit,” Avery spat. “You can’t tell me you still think she ran off and will show up whenever she feels like it. That dickhead cop said he remembered her. He fucking sold her like a piece of meat, and you’re still planning on sitting around twiddling your thumbs in hopes that she’ll come home like nothing ever happened?”

  It was a nice thought and the easy way to go about it. If the older wolves simply thought she was a flighty kid who did what she wanted when she wanted, then maybe they hadn’t royally screwed everyone involved. Except Dylan and Avery knew the truth, knew Lacey was out there, and knew the leadership of the pack had failed.

  “Fuck that,” Avery continued with a growl that made Dylan question his animal. “What do you plan to do when she doesn’t show up in another couple weeks? Months? Are you hoping her father will forget about her and move on? She’s been gone for months already, Alpha. Months. This has been happening under your noses in your city for longer than that. And you still don’t want to believe it.”

  Avery closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, Dylan could see the determination there. “Look,” he said quieter. “Arguing is not going to get us anywhere. Lacey is still out there, and I am not going to rest until she’s home.”

  Law’s eyes narrowed, his temper flaring bright, and then he sneered at Dylan. “You can’t honestly think letting this hedgehog run around putting the pack in jeopardy is a good idea.”

  Dylan had had enough. He pushed himself off the sofa, head swimming from moving too quickly. When he tilted, Avery was right there to restore balance to his world, an arm around his waist to hold him steady. Looking down at his mate, the love shining up at him (and whether they had spoken the words or not, he couldn’t deny that’s exactly what it was), Dylan knew he’d follow Avery to the ends of the earth to earn the trust and devotion placed in him.

  “Yeah”—he looked up at his father—“I do. We wouldn’t have gotten this far without him.”

  “You almost got killed,” Law protested.

  “It was my shoulder. And yes, it was dangerous and reckless and could have been dealt with better, but….” Dylan looked down at his mate and grinned. “I promise to work on that.”

  “This is pack business now,” Odell broke in, his voice reverberating around the room. He directed his words at Avery and Dylan. “We’ll take care of it. Consider this your one and only warning. Stay out. You have enough to answer for as it is.”

  “Answer for?” Avery threw back, incensed. His fingers dug into Dylan’s side, and Dylan winced. “Like what? I came to you with all of this, and you turned us away. Hell, I even went to the police, and well, that didn’t turn out as expected either.”

  The alpha narrowed his eyes at Avery, but Dylan could tell he was processing what was said, organizing his thoughts. Then he drew himself to his full height, shoulders back and broad chest out. “No matter. My orders are clear. Don’t go near this case.”

  When Avery looked like he’d protest, Dylan slid a hand to the back of his neck and squeezed, silencing him.

  With one last glare, the alpha turned and walked out. No promises of information or thanks for helping. He obviously assumed that would be enough to placate Dylan’s mate. It was clear Odell didn’t know Avery as well as he thought.

  As soon as the door shut, Dylan looked at Avery, the set of Avery’s jaw stubborn as the day was long. “Are you going to tell me?”

  Avery glanced away. “Tell you what?”

  “The auction, Av.” Dylan tugged him back down to the sofa. “I get why you don’t want to tell Odell or even Wallace, but I need you to tell me.”

  After what had happened with Melnyk and Harris, Dylan knew Avery wasn’t quick to trust any authority figures. Dylan didn’t blame him. Giving the alpha or even the police bureau information on the auctions would leave Avery with nothing to go on. Dylan wasn’t dense enough to think just because the alpha told Avery to stay away from the case that he would.

  When Avery met his eyes again, they were full of trepidation and sadness. Then he nodded. “It was awful.” Once Avery opened the floodgates, he let everything out. “The kids were set up like an exhibit and the bidders—God, Dylan there were men and women, and they weren’t scummy like you’d think. They were prominent, powerful businessmen.”

  “Did you recognize any of them?”

  With his bottom lip between his teeth, Avery shook his head. “Only Melnyk, and when he saw me….”

  Dylan’s heart was breaking with the helplessness he witnessed in Avery’s eyes. He pulled Avery to him, as much to comfort and reassure himself as it was for his mate. “Okay,” he said. “I get it.”

  “I’m not letting this go,” Avery whispered.

  “I know,” he sighed. And to be honest, he hadn’t expected Avery to walk away. He wouldn’t be Avery if he gave up.

  When Avery pulled away, his mouth hung open.

  “What?”

  “You… you’re okay with it?”

  Dylan scoffed. “Of course not,” He brushed his thumb along the side of Avery’s neck and smiled at the shudder that shook Avery’s body. “But you’re not going to stop until you find Lacey, and I’m not letting you out of my sight until that happens. We’re in this together, yeah?”

  Avery nodded.

  “Besides, I have a feeling that after you do find her, something else I don’t like will catch your attention.” Pulling Avery closer, Dylan dropped a chaste kiss on his lips. “I might as well get used to it.”

  AVERY LEANED against Dylan for a moment. With the departure of Alpha Odell and the others, he realized he was standing there in nothing but the T-shirt Dylan had given him earlier—now covered in blood—and Dylan was bare-chested save for the bandage Avery had applied to his shoulder.

  They were both filthy, and Avery knew he probably reeked from being in that cell. It was time for a shower, and then more sleep. He’d barely started to doze in the chair next to the couch when the alpha and betas had burst in. In the morning, when their heads were clear, they’d worry about what came next.

  He took Dylan’s hand. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”

  Dylan nodded and allowed Avery to tug him through the house to the master bathroom. Avery turned on the water before shedding his stinky T-shirt and helping Dylan strip off his still-damp jeans. The space wasn’t as large as Avery was used to at his loft, but there was room for the two of them to maneuver without bumping elbows.

  He eyed Dylan’s shoulder. “Should we get a bag or something to protect your bandage?”

  Dylan shook his head and reached up to tear it away. Already his advanced healing had started its work. Avery knew it would take another day or two for the wound to fully mend inside, but the outside had already scabbed over.

  “How bad is it?”

  Dylan grunted. “Sore. But a helluva lot better than it was.”

  Avery tested the water and, finding it to be warm enough, got into the tub. Dylan stepped in behind him and pulled the curtain cl
osed.

  Moving around under the shower spray was trickier. The tub was one of those old-fashioned claw-footed deals and fairly narrow, but they made it work. Avery grabbed Dylan’s soap—a plain, unscented bar—and set to washing his mate. Dylan took it from him, lathered his own hands, and began to return the favor.

  Avery shuddered as Dylan’s wide palms moved down his chest, over his hips and ass, then up his back. Despite his exhaustion, his body reacted to the touch and scent of his mate. His cock stirred, nudging Dylan’s thigh, and he felt Dylan’s dick respond, stiffening against his belly.

  Dylan cupped his chin and tipped his head up. Avery parted his lips on a moan, accepting the firm, slick glide of Dylan’s tongue. It went straight to his balls, drawing them up.

  He lifted onto his tiptoes, and in between washing each other, they kissed. Long, slow, deep kisses, until the water chilled and Avery started shivering in a bad way. Then Dylan dried him off with gentle care, and Avery’s eyes stung as he ran another towel over Dylan’s chest and back.

  They could’ve lost each other tonight. He could have lost Dylan. Had come so close. If that bullet had been a couple of inches to the left….

  Never again would he get himself into trouble with some half-cocked plan. He wouldn’t forgive himself for getting Dylan shot. The guilt would serve as a reminder for Avery to keep a level head—to think instead of just reacting as he’d been prone to doing since childhood. It was one of his biggest faults, and now he knew the potential consequences. This was about more than him and what he wanted. They were two now, a team. They should walk side by side, as he’d said to Dylan.

  Avery really needed to learn to take his own advice.

  Dylan gripped Avery’s nape, pulling him from his thoughts. “C’mon, brat.”

  The word was said with fondness and love. Avery’s lips quirked into a smile as Dylan steered him into the bedroom. They were both still hard, the scent of arousal pouring off their skin, but it was different than before. Desire, need, lust—that was all there—but tempered by a poignant sort of tenderness.

 

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