by Lynn Hagen
“Where are we going?”
“To get something to eat,” Bear answered as he skirted by a few people who were standing outside the bookstore chatting.
Why hadn’t his mate just called him and told Spencer to meet him at the diner? “I wish I would have known. It would have saved me from walking to the firehouse.”
Bear held up their entwined hands. “Then I wouldn’t have been able to take a nice afternoon walk with you.” The guy was so much taller than Spencer that he nearly pulled Spencer up off of his feet when he lifted his arm. He did stumble forward slightly, though. Not only was his mate an astonishing height, but he wasn’t a beanpole. The guy was pretty damn thick.
Bear opened the door and held it so Spencer could walk in. He spotted an empty booth and made a beeline for it. Scooting in, Spencer sat back. “Have you found out who Bart Fishman is?”
Bear pushed into the booth, moving the table toward Spencer a few inches to accommodate his frame. “He’s the principal at Brac Elementary. From what I hear, he doesn’t approve of the way Maverick is running things.”
Spencer grabbed the menu off of the Formica tabletop and began to scan the lunch items. “Then the man hasn’t had his eyes open. The town is flourishing and jobs are still scarce, but not like they once were. I just saw a store that had a sign in the window that read Fine Threads Coming Soon. I also saw an antique store opening up.”
“I’m not sure what Bart Fishman is complaining about,” Bear said as he raised his hand slightly to gain the waiter’s attention. “Maybe it’s something else that we don’t know about.” They gave their drink orders when the waiter came over to their table.
“Are you guys getting any closer to finding out who is setting the fires?”
Bear threw his right arm over the back of the booth, rubbing his stubbled chin with his left hand. “No, but they are moving closer and closer to the thick of town. My worst fear is that they’ll get right into the heart of Brac Village and then a domino effect will occur. The buildings are pretty close together.”
Spencer shivered. “That would be real bad.” He couldn’t imagine losing any of the picturesque buildings to a fire. What would he do if The Pit went up in flames? Not that he didn’t worry about that constantly with a grill right outside the building.
“The sentries are patrolling the town. After three fires, no one is taking any chances.” Bear leaned back as the waiter set the drinks on the table. Spencer grabbed the straw, unwrapped it, and popped it into the glass of juice he had ordered.
“Do you fellas know what you want to eat yet?” the waiter with the flames licking around his neck asked.
“We’ll be a few more minutes.” Spencer began to look over his menu again. Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer spotted Bailey. The guy looked like he had been kicked in the ass by the world. Spencer felt so sorry for him, but knew that time would eventually heal the man’s broken heart.
That was if they could get Harley to stop treating these men as sex objects. The way he was treating these men had Spencer ready to take up Bailey’s battle. He wanted to squash Harley like a bug.
The waiter came back over, and both the Bear and Spencer ordered. “I’ll have the perch, but can the cook grill it, not fry it?”
“Yep.”
“Great. Can I get a few slices of lemon to go with that and some steamed rice?” Spencer set the menu down and saw the way Bear was staring at him. “What?”
His mate just shook his head. “I’ll have the big, fat, dripping-with-grease burger. Some unhealthy salted fries, and a calorie-filled chocolate shake. Add some whipped cream and chocolate sauce to that shake.”
Spencer kicked at his mate under the booth. “Are you making fun of me?”
“What makes you think that?” Bear grabbed his ice water and took a long drink. Spencer was relieved to see that his mate did something healthy—even if it was just drinking water. He wasn’t foolish enough to think he could change the man, and he really didn’t want to. But Bear could use a little healthy eating in his life.
Shifters may live a very long time and not suffer through the diseases humans were plagued with, but that didn’t mean his mate couldn’t get fat. The extra weight wouldn’t bother Spencer in the least, but he knew it would bother Bear.
The fire chief needed to stay in top condition for his job. Eating death on a plate was not conducive to that goal. But Spencer wasn’t going to say a word. It was what it was.
Spencer turned and watched all three of the Santiago brothers stride into the diner. He only knew who they were because Styles—the coyote he used to live with before moving in with Bear—worked for the brothers. Johnny had also told him about Tryck, the oldest of the three. He had said that Tryck was a very unique person.
Even Spencer knew a dangerous man when he saw one. He wasn’t sure about unique, but the word lethal did come to mind as he watched the three take seats at a booth on the opposite side of the diner as him and Bear.
Spencer’s attention was back at his table when the waiter brought their food. He absolutely loved that this diner didn’t serve slop. The cook was extremely talented and prepared food that should be served in a five-star restaurant.
Okay, so that was his opinion, but the food was awesome. He started to recant that thought when he saw Bear pick up an extremely large burger, a line of grease running down his mate’s finger.
“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Bear teased before taking a huge bite.
“Nope. I’m perfectly happy with my boring little fish.” Spencer cocked his head. “I thought bears liked fish?”
Bear nodded as he chewed, wiping his grease-laden fingers off on his napkin. Once he swallowed, Bear took a long drink of his chocolate shake. “I love fish. But that doesn’t mean I want to eat it all the time.”
Spencer began to eat, ignoring Bear’s overexaggerated moans of pleasure. The man could tease all he wanted to. Spencer knew how to get even. As a matter of fact, Bear wasn’t even aware that Spencer had been slipping healthy ingredients into his meals when it was his turn to cook. The guy hadn’t even noticed. So much for his sour face when Bear spotted the organic food in the refrigerator.
Spencer was dying to tell him that he had been eating it for days, but if he spilled the beans, he knew Bear would act like Spencer was poisoning him or something. So as badly as he wanted to set the man straight, he kept his lips sealed.
* * * *
Aside from the beautiful forest, and the well-crafted deck, the back of the house was pretty plain. Spencer glanced at the sloping hill and wondered what he could do to spruce it up. Every day he walked between The Café and The Pit, passing by the floral shop. What he wouldn’t give to have a nice-looking garden.
Maybe he could get some hanging boxes for the back porch. Although Spencer absolutely loved all the woodwork, it desperately needed some color added in. He was totally clueless when it came to caring for flowers, but he was pretty sure he could learn.
They were flowers. How hard could it be to keep them alive?
Bear had said that Spencer could add his touch to the place. His mate had already talked to someone about building a bigger closet, which Spencer was ecstatic about. He wanted to make the small cabin into a cozy home for him and his mate.
Spencer started back up the slope when a stranger rounded the side of the house. No. It wasn’t a stranger. He had no clue why Harley Grouper was heading toward him. Personally, he didn’t even know the man.
“I’m told you’re the one spreading rumors about me.” Harley’s average-brown eyes were filled with anger, his jaw tight.
“Rumors?” Spencer wanted to back away but didn’t want to give the impression that he was terrified. “They are hardly rumors. Everybody in town has seen you.” Who on earth pointed him out? It wasn’t like he was the only one talking about the man’s shameful behavior. Everywhere Spencer went he heard talk of Harley’s harem. Heck, Mr. Plume down at the pharmacy told anyone who listened about the town slut.<
br />
Mr. Plume’s words, not Spencer’s.
“But you are the one that Bailey has mentioned by name.” When Harley was a mere ten feet from him, Spencer spun around and raced away from the crazy human. Although Spencer was a shifter, he wasn’t a fighter.
Harley was too big to go toe-to-toe with. His best course of action was to get the heck out of there. But as Spencer ran, he wondered why on earth Bailey would mention him. All he had done was help the guy out.
No good deed goes unpunished.
That was what Styles said…a lot. It seemed he was right.
Spencer had only been in these woods one time, and that was when he and Bear had shifted. He was in unfamiliar territory and the panic was making him make small mistakes. But there were mistakes that would cost him if he wasn’t careful.
When his shoe snagged a root that was sticking up out of the ground, Spencer fell face-first. He cried out when he felt his nose snap. Blood started pouring down the front of his shirt. Spencer pushed to his hands and knees and then leaned back, yanking his shirt off and pressing it to his nose. He nearly passed out from pain when the fabric touched skin.
It had to be broken. He could heal if he shifted, but he couldn’t shift with the human after him. Having no choice, Spencer got to his feet and started running again. He became light-headed, his sense of smell gone as the blood continued to flow.
If a predator—aside from the wacko chasing him—were nearby, Spencer would have no clue. He chanced a glance over his shoulder but didn’t see anyone. Harley wasn’t a shifter. That alone should make Spencer feel better, but it didn’t.
Humans may not be able to hunt with honed accuracy like shifters could, but they knew how to hunt.
Spencer stopped running, placing his back to a tree as he pulled his shirt from his nose. The bleeding had slowed, but his nose was still throbbing painfully. His eyes kept sweeping the woods, looking for any sort of movement. After a few moments when he didn’t see anything, Spencer slowly and carefully walked back the way he had come.
He got turned around a few times, but soon the cabin came into view. Spencer couldn’t understand it. Harley had been advancing toward him. Any intelligent person would think that as Spencer ran, Harley would chase.
But the back of the house was empty. He carefully made his way to the steps that ran at the side of the house and led to the back porch. Bear was at work, having to pull an all-nighter. Spencer was here by himself. But he had thought he was safe.
As Spencer reached the side of the house, his heart lodged in his throat. He spotted Harley, but the man was sitting on the ground with his back against his truck. None of this made any sense to him.
Spencer backpedaled when Harley jumped to his feet, wondering if the man had just played it smart and was waiting on Spencer to return. “What the hell happened to you?”
His shirt was balled in his hand, temporarily forgotten. Spencer glanced down at it and saw the crimson stains. If Harley really hadn’t been after him… “What do you want?” he asked in aggravation.
Spencer had run for nothing and now he was sporting a broken nose. Harley had sufficiently placed himself on the top of Spencer’s list of people he didn’t like at the moment.
Harley’s eyes went to Spencer’s nose, but the man didn’t press his question about how Spencer had injured himself. Instead, he shoved his hands deep into his front pockets, leaning once again against his truck.
“I thought maybe you could talk to Bailey for me.”
Spencer was shocked. “I don’t even know you.” And there was no way Spencer would do anything to help this man hurt Bailey any further. The asshole had done enough damage already.
“Bailey seems to like you.” Harley started to move closer but Spencer held up his hand.
“I’m not sure what it is you’re up to, but you need to get off my property.” Technically it wasn’t his property, but Harley didn’t need to be clued in on that fact.
“I’m in love with Bailey.”
Spencer’s jaw hit the ground at Harley’s statement. The guy had to be off his flipping rocker. He couldn’t believe he was even standing here having this conversation. Not only was the guy a slut, he was twisted in the head. “With as many men as you sleep with, how in the fuck…why would you…” Spencer was at a loss.
“I’ve slept with three guys,” Harley said defensively. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business.”
“Three?” Spencer laughed the question and then winced when his nose reminded him that it was broken. “You know what? It doesn’t really matter to me. I’m not one of the idiots. Whatever you need to talk to Bailey about, do it yourself. You are not dragging me into your sordid business.”
“I’ve slept with Bailey. I’ve slept with Damon. And I screwed around with the guy at the Laundromat. I’m guilty for trying to date two guys at once. The guy at the Laundromat was someone I met when I first got to town. I didn’t even know Bailey then. We had sex twice and now he thinks he is in love with me.”
The man was so full of shit. “Why are you even telling me this stuff?”
“I told you. I’m in love with Bailey.”
Spencer quirked a brow. “And the cashier at the Village Mart?”
“That’s my cousin.”
“You’re sleeping with your cousin!” Spencer hadn’t meant to shout, but it seemed the man’s perversions knew no boundaries. He was going to be sick.
“God no!” Harley ran a hand down his face. “You’ve never thrown your arm over your cousin or brother’s shoulder?”
With Harley’s question, Spencer thought about Isaiah. His brother had been affectionate, always giving Spencer hugs. The memories made a spot inside Spencer—the spot where he held all of his fond memories of Isaiah—begin to ache with the loss of such a wonderful person. “Yes.”
Harley pulled his hands from his pockets, holding them out, palms up. It was as if he were pleading with Spencer. “I fucked up. I know this. I just need to know how to fix this.”
Spencer threw his hands up in the air. “How the hell should I know? Maybe if you kept your dick in your pants, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Thanks for pointing that out,” Harley said as he headed toward the driver’s door of his truck. He stopped and turned. “I have no clue why Bailey speaks so highly of you.”
Spencer threw his soiled shirt at the truck as Harley got in and pulled way. The nerve of that man! He wanted to chase Harley down and break his nose.
Aggravated and in pain, Spencer went inside to shift and heal. Hell if this boring town hadn’t turned upside down and become the most bizarre place to live lately.
Chapter Twelve
Bear was just dozing off in the recliner when Sampson woke him up. The firefighter stood looming over him, waving his hand for Bear to get up. “Call just came in. We got to go.”
“Where’s the fire?” Bear asked as he rubbed his hands over his face, wishing he could get a few more hours of sleep. Before he had mated, working the night shift had never bothered Bear. It did now. He didn’t like leaving his mate alone. Bear didn’t like sleeping without having Spencer tucked in next to him. Once the new men who Maverick recommended in addition to Sampson and Flint started at the end of the month, Bear was finished with night shift.
Pushing from the chair, Bear muttered to himself, raking his fingers over his scalp. As the sleepiness began to lift, Bear noticed the quiet that seem to expand and fill the room. Why were they walking so slowly? Where was the blaring alarm? And where in the hell were the other firefighters?
The only thing Bear heard was the hum of the overhead fluorescent lights that tracked from the vacant media room down the hallway toward the sleeping quarters.
Bear watched Sampson turn left, going out into the bay.
“Where is everybody?” Bear asked, at just about the same time that he noticed the lights weren’t on in the bay. An arctic chill crawled up Bear’s spine at the oddity of not only the way Sampson was acting, bu
t the tomb-like state the firehouse seemed to be in.
When Sampson didn’t answer him, Bear reached out and grabbed the man’s shoulder, pulling. His hand flew off of the guy’s shoulder as he raised them both until they were on either side of his head.
Sampson had a gun in his hand.
Bear’s eyes swept the bay, spotting Flint and Travis out cold on the cement floor next to the rig. There was a small pool of blood coming from under Flint. Bear prayed the man wasn’t dead. He didn’t understand what was going on. None of this made any sense to him.
Sampson extended his arm, the gun rising higher until it was square with Bear’s chest. “Where the fuck is Bailey?”
“How the hell should I know?” was Bear’s immediate response. He didn’t like seeing his men being hurt, and he most certainly did not like having a gun pointed at him. Sampson wasn’t standing close enough to him to get the gun out of his hand. He was just out of arm’s reach. All of the choices that ran through Bear’s head were no good. As quickly as he could shift, it wouldn’t be fast enough before Sampson shot him.
There was a sheen of sweat on Sampson’s cheeks, chin, and forehead. His free hand began to flap around as his face flushed. “I’ve torn this town upside down but I can’t find Bailey anywhere. I know you and your boyfriend were helping him. Where did you stash him?”
Bear could hardly contain the snarl that curled at the back of his throat at the human’s outburst. His own anger spiked dangerously, muscles tensed and ready for a fight. If only he could get the gun away from Sampson.
“I haven’t stashed him anywhere,” Bear answered. “What is this all about?” His eyes darted back over to the two prone men. He wanted to go over and check on them but knew Sampson would stop him.
Sampson was dragging his hand through his hair repeatedly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Bailey doesn’t love him. I do.” He tugged at his collar and then unbuttoned the top shirt button. “I’ve been in love with him for years. Bailey is screwing this up for me!”