by Lynn Hagen
Fisher wanted to kick something. He felt as if he’d never get from under the guy’s thumb, even though he was five hours away from the jackass.
His newfound freedom didn’t feel like freedom any longer. Fisher felt as though he had a noose around his neck, and it would tighten with every false claim John made against him.
Grayson came around his desk and took a seat next to Fisher. “We won’t let him win. I told you I would protect you, and I’ll make good on that promise. Where’s Blake?”
“At home,” Fisher said. “I was out job hunting, but I don’t have his number to get a ride.”
“I’ll call him for you.” Grayson got up and grabbed his cell phone from his desk. “Until this matter is settled, I want you to stick to Blake.”
“I can’t.” Fisher got up and paced. “He’s a nice guy, but I can’t keep freeloading off him. I have to find work and at least compensate him for his generosity.”
The money Grayson had given him wouldn’t last long. So far Fisher hadn’t spent a dime of it, but eventually he would, and a hundred dollars didn’t go very far.
Grayson looked right at him. “Trust me when I tell you that Blake will never tire of you.”
Fisher didn’t believe that for a second. Before his misfortune of running into John at some coffee shop, his luck hadn’t been that stellar with men. He tended to pick the wrong ones, losers who were out to use him.
Blake was too good of a man, and Fisher didn’t want him to get hurt if John found Fisher at some guy’s house. He’d already brought enough trouble into Blake’s life, and Fisher wasn’t going to repay that debt by bringing any trouble his way.
“Can you just call him?” Fisher asked. “I’m just tired and want to go home.”
He stiffened when he realized what he’d said. Blake’s house wasn’t Fisher’s home. He didn’t have one, and that thought depressed the hell out of him.
Chapter Four
Blake wanted to speed into town, but because of the pouring rain, which his wipers were having a hard time keeping up with, he was forced to drive at a much slower pace.
All Grayson had said was that Fisher was at the station and Blake needed to get there. All sorts of scenarios were playing in his head. John had found Fisher. There had been an accident. Fisher had been arrested for something. The list went on and on, driving Blake insane.
His bear was snarling, ready to rip someone apart if something had happened to his mate.
Blake gnashed his teeth when he had to wait at a red light. The short drive to town seemed to be taking forever, and the rain didn’t seem to be letting up. Cars were at a crawl, and people were racing to their destination in a futile attempt to stay dry.
“Come on,” Blake said under his breath as he waited at the light.
Ever since Fisher had shown up in his life, Blake felt as if he was being pulled and pushed. A two hundred and forty pound of pure muscle yo-yo. He was never sure what mood Fisher would be in, playful or withdrawn. But it had been getting better. Slow but steady.
Blake had considered it a win when Fisher had shared the couch with him last night, eating popcorn as they watched a movie. His mate had been chatty, making Blake smile.
Fisher had even touched Blake’s arm when he was telling an outrageous story about how he and his best friend used to go skinny-dipping at the lake by his childhood home, about how the sheriff had busted them one night and some animal had run off with Fisher’s shorts so he’d had to wait there naked until his parents had shown up to fetch him.
Sometimes things seemed so normal, as if everything would fall into place for them. But Blake wasn’t going to kid himself. He knew Fisher needed time, and Blake would give him all the time he needed.
Just as soon as this damn light turned green.
After what felt like forever, Blake drove through the intersection. A white sedan blasted past him, nearly crashing into his SUV. Blake slammed on the brakes and cursed. Some people were reckless drivers. In this weather, no one was immune to—Blake spun his head around to look at the car, but it had already turned a corner.
No, that hadn’t been John. Great, now Blake was seeing white cars everywhere. They stood out more than the other vehicles on the road, only because he was looking for them, seeing each one as a potential threat.
Why couldn’t John’s car have a beacon over it so Blake would know if it was him? That would’ve been convenient, but not realistic. Blake would just have to stay super vigilant and keep an eye on things.
He shouldn’t have let Fisher talk him into walking into town. Blake should’ve insisted on giving him a ride. But he was tiptoeing around his mate, so much so that he just might have screwed things up.
An explicative fell from Blake’s lips when he saw there were no parking spaces available in front of the station. If it wouldn’t have been dangerous and irresponsible, he would’ve parked his SUV right there in the middle of the street. His nerves were shot to hell, and he wanted to get to Fisher.
The parking lot on the side of the station was full, so Blake was forced to park a block over. By the time he made it into the interior of the building, he was soaking wet.
“Hi, Mr. Chapman,” Renny said from behind the receptionist desk. “I see you couldn’t run between the raindrops.”
Renny was Chief Sal Monroe’s mate. The guy had green eyes, the same color as Fisher’s, and dark hair. He had a gorgeous smile that would make anyone feel welcome.
“I need to see the sheriff.”
Renny nodded. “He’s expecting you. Go ahead to his office.”
Blake wasn’t a fashion queen by any stretch of the imagination, but he was pissed his Manolo Blahnik Dolomite boots were drenched. He’d paid almost thirteen hundred dollars for them and hoped they would be all right once they dried out.
That would be his fault if they were ruined. He shouldn’t have let Fisher go job-hunting on his own. His mate didn’t need a job. Blake was more than willing to take care of him. But from the conversations they’d had, Blake had surmised that Fisher had been trapped at home with John, and Blake wasn’t going to let Fisher feel the same way with him.
He knocked on Grayson’s door then opened it. Fisher was seated in one of the chairs to the side of the room, a blanket wrapped around him. Blake’s first instinct was to pull Fisher into his arms and reassure himself that his mate was safe and unharmed.
Fisher’s green eyes widened. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry you got drenched in this downpour. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“What’s going on?” Blake looked toward Grayson. “Why is Fisher at the station?”
His mate wasn’t in handcuffs, so the tension drained from Blake’s shoulders. He was okay, so they could deal with anything else. “Was it John?”
Blake was really starting to hate that name. He was tempted to drive back to the guy’s house and bury his body just so they wouldn’t have to worry about him any longer.
“In a manner of speaking.” Grayson waved a hand at the chair in front of his desk, but Blake sat next to his mate, waiting to hear why Fisher was there in the first place.
“I came here because it started raining and I didn’t have your phone number. I knew Grayson would have it, so I asked him to call you.” Fisher was explaining bullet-fast, as if he were trying to stop Blake from getting angry.
“That’s my fault,” Blake said with a smile. “I should’ve made sure you had it.”
Relief flooded Fisher’s eyes.
Blake turned to Grayson. “So what does his ex have to do with this?”
Grayson told him about some police report and how a BOLO had been issued for Fisher. Not exactly an arrest warrant, but Fisher would be picked up if a cop outside Maple Grove found him.
Blake’s anger was palpable. He ground his teeth as he glared at Grayson. “Are you fucking serious? That bastard sank that low?”
Blake forced his anger down when he noticed how Fisher leaned away from him. It was okay that Fisher saw him upset. The important thing
was that he realized that anger didn’t lead to pain. Not with Blake, and never again with anyone else.
“I’d call their county sheriff to let him know the claim was bogus, but I don’t want to alert him or her that Fisher is here, in Maple Grove.”
Blake’s arms ached to wrap around his mate. Fisher sat there shivering, and he wasn’t sure it was all due to being wet. He was sure that Fisher would make better progress if he weren’t so worried about John all the time.
“Just stay within the county limits,” Grayson said. “I already alerted my deputies about the situation, so they’ll be watching for John’s car.”
That was the best they could do right now. Blake didn’t like it, but short of hunting the bastard down and ending his life, there wasn’t anything any of them could do.
“You ready to head home?” Blake didn’t correct himself when he’d used the word home. That was exactly what it was for both of them, and he wanted Fisher to be at peace there, to look at Blake’s house as a haven.
“A word?” Grayson said to Blake.
Fisher got up and pulled the blanket from around his shoulders. He folded it, even though the material was wet, and placed it on his seat. “I’ll wait by the receptionist.”
It bothered Blake that Fisher hadn’t even argued about being dismissed from the room when they were clearly going to talk about him. He just accepted it, like he just accepted everything else without an argument or protest.
“Patience,” Grayson said when Fisher left and closed the door behind him.
“I have plenty of that,” Blake said. “I just don’t like the helpless feeling when it comes to Fisher. I want to do so much for him, but I know I have to give him his space so he can deal with what’s happened to him.”
Grayson tapped his finger on his desk. “He thinks you’ll get tired of him living there for free.”
Blake snorted. “That’ll never happen. In fact, I hate the idea of him job-hunting when he doesn’t need to. I’m financially set.”
Grayson grinned. “I’ve never asked your age in all the years I’ve known you.”
“Two hundred and some change,” Blake admitted.
Grayson’s brows shot up. “I never stop being shocked at how slow you shifters age.”
Blake was a bear shifter, just like Grayson’s mate. They were fierce creatures, but lovable at heart. Blake just wished he could show that side of himself to Fisher without seeming as if he were flirting with him.
Dealing with someone who was in a fragile state was a balancing act. Show you care, but not too much. Be there for them, but give them their space. Reassure them, but don’t choke them with support.
Blake badly wanted to throw caution to the wind and smother Fisher with praise and encouragement. That would do more harm than good, though, so Blake was forced to walk the tightrope around Fisher.
“Yeah, but mates benefit from that.” Blake grinned. “You’ll age just as slowly as Moose.”
“And so will Fisher, so you have time with him. Don’t rush things.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo dealing with a traumatized person.”
“But it is your first time dealing with a traumatized mate,” Grayson said. “Go get him and take him home. He needs to get out of those wet clothes.”
A thought struck Blake. If Fisher was so hellbent on working, and Blake didn’t want his mate out of his sight, then the perfect solution would be to give Fisher a job at Pump.
Problem solved.
* * * *
Fisher hurried to the reception area when it sounded as if the conversation between Blake and Grayson was over. He felt bad for eavesdropping, but he’d wanted to hear Blake’s true feelings about Fisher staying at his house.
He hadn’t expected his mind to be blown. None of their conversation made any sense. What the hell were shifters, and what was a mate? Was Blake really over two hundred years old? That was impossible. Why was Blake upset that Fisher was job-hunting, and why would he want to take care of him financially?
John had wanted the same thing, only his reason was that he didn’t want Fisher leaving the house so he could control his every move. Never again would he become someone’s prisoner.
Fisher nearly missed the bench when he sat down across from the receptionist. His head was spinning from what he’d learned, yet he was clueless.
“Are you okay?” Renny looked at him with concern. “You seem a bit pale, and you’re shivering.”
Fisher’s head snapped up, and he gave a weak smile. “I’m cold from my wet clothes. I’ll go home and take a shower just as soon as Blake is finished with the sheriff.”
That was another thing Fisher hated about himself. He’d learned to become a professional liar living with John. That had been the only way to keep himself out of trouble, even though it hadn’t worked most of the time. It was as if the sadistic prick had looked for excuses to hurt Fisher.
“I can get you a cup of hot coffee,” Renny offered. “It’s not your normal police station coffee. I actually brew it myself, and it’s pretty good.”
Renny looked proud of that fact, and Fisher didn’t want to turn his offer down. But Blake came down the hallway, and Fisher declined. “Maybe next time.”
Renny nodded. “It’s a date.”
Blake frowned. “What’s a date?”
“A coffee date,” Renny said with a smile. “Jealous?”
“Not at all. I’d like Fisher to make friends in Maple Grove.”
Great. Now Fisher sounded lame, as if he couldn’t do that on his own. He used to have friends, before John had alienated him from everyone.
Fisher smiled at Renny. “It’s a date.”
“Really?” Renny’s green eyes lit up. “I don’t have many friends, besides the guys at the fire station. I’d love to have a coffee date with you, but not here. We could go to Bistro. They have amazing ice cream.”
Fisher looked at Blake.
Blake shrugged. “Don’t look at me for permission. Make plans with whoever you want.”
Friends. Fisher loved that idea. He rocked on the heels of his feet and smiled. “Just let me know when you’re available.”
“How about tomorrow? Do you want to meet for lunch?”
“So now it’s coffee and lunch?” Blake chuckled. “Do I need to keep my eye on you?”
Renny snorted. “Although Fisher is cute, Sal is enough for me. You have nothing to worry about.”
Fisher wasn’t sure if they were still joking or being serious. Why would Blake be jealous? It wasn’t as if they were dating. Fisher had no interest in anything romantic. He wasn’t sure if he ever would. John had killed that part of him, and Fisher doubted it would ever come back.
No matter how insanely attracted he was to Blake.
“Give me your phone number so we can meet up tomorrow.” Renny grabbed his from his desk and looked expectantly at Fisher. He rattled off his phone number, though he still needed to turn it on.
That was another problem. Fisher didn’t want to see what John had left for him via text or voice mail.
“See you tomorrow.” Renny looked bubbly as Fisher and Blake left the station. It was still raining, but not as hard, though the dark clouds still loomed overhead.
“I’m down the street,” Blake said. “I’d say let’s make a dash for it, but we’re already wet. That was awful nice of you to have lunch with Renny. He really doesn’t have a lot of friends. His boyfriend is the chief at the fire station, and although the guys there are great, I’m sure Renny would love to expand his pool of friends.”
“Yeah, sure.” Fisher looked for Blake’s black SUV. He spotted it parked at the curb in front of the post office. When they got inside, Blake started it but turned to face Fisher.
“Okay, what’s going on? Why’re you so quiet, and why do you look like something is bothering you?”
Having had multiple conversations with Blake helped Fisher tell him what was going on. It was just so easy to talk to him. “I haven’t turned my phon
e on since I fled. I’m afraid of what’s on it.”
Blake studied him. “Are you sure that’s all? I wasn’t kidding about being jealous of you and Renny. Trust me when I say you can be friends with whomever you want and go anywhere you want. You don’t have to check in with me or need my permission. The only thing I ask is that you let me know where you’re going, only because John is still a threat and I don’t want anything happening to you.”
“And I appreciate your concern,” Fisher said.
“If you want, but only if you want, how about I check your phone when we get home?”
Home. That was twice now that Blake had referred to his house as Fisher’s, too. “Can I ask you something without you getting upset with me?”
“I’m going to get upset once in a while, Fisher, but I just want you to know you never have to fear my anger. I’ll never raise a hand to you.”
If anyone else had said that, Fisher wouldn’t have believed them. But this was Blake, and he’d been nothing but sweet and patient with him.
“I overheard your conversation with Grayson.” He held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I know eavesdropping is rude, but I really wanted to know how you felt about me staying with you.”
“Calm down. It’s fine.” Blake relaxed in his seat. “I have no problem with you living with me. I’m not blowing smoke up your ass. I’m serious. I won’t grow tired of you. In fact, I wanted to offer you a job.”
“I thought you didn’t want me job hunting,” Fisher said.
Blake chuckled. “You really were eavesdropping.” He sighed. “That’s because I want to keep an eye on you, to make sure you’re safe. Have you ever worked as a bartender before?”
“At your club?” Fisher’s defenses tried to slam into place. Now he would live with Blake and work with him. He was starting to feel trapped. The windows in the SUV had fogged up, and Fisher felt isolated. He threw the door open and jumped out, trying to catch his breath.
Blake was at his side in seconds, the rain pelting them. “In through your nose and out through your mouth.”
Fisher nodded, doing as Blake instructed. He bent at the waist and pressed his hands against his knees. “It’s just that… John kept me close. I felt like I couldn’t breathe half the time.”