Everything Carries Me to You (Axton and Leander Book 3) (49 page)

"Maybe," Axton said, turning to study the next line of calendars. There were dogs with smushed in faces wearing photoshopped flower crowns. It was dreadful.

"You gonna come quietly?" Dana demanded.

"What?" Axton asked."Jesus, no."

"Axton!" Dana warned.

Axton spun to face him.

"And
then what
, Dana? You take me back to your family? Like they're gonna accept me after I obviously ran away and you even more obviously dragged my ass back? Like they were gonna accept me
anyway
, after I came out to them?"

"This time we'll make you a prisoner, all official like," Dana promised. "See how you like that, motherfucker."

"You don't have a plan, do you?" Axton asked, tone conversational. "You're just angry and chasing. Think it through, Dana. If you get me, then what?"

"Ain't no room for
if
, honey," Dana said. "I'm right here."

"Mm," Axton said, and--

He bolted. He ducked past Dana and ran a short distance, just enough to elicit some stares, and then he grinned.

Dana skidded into the open and then glowered, knowing he couldn't follow in a full run without attracting significant attention.

"Meet you in the food court," Axton called out, as if they were friends goofing around.

By the time Dana caught up, Axton was seated at Leander's table, idly eating a box of French fries. Leander was still sipping his cup the size of a man's head, legs out, feet propped up lazily on a chair.

Dana sighted them from across the food court and stalked over.

"I hope you two fucks are proud of yourselves," Dana said, voice low, audible only to the nearest table and otherwise lost in the hum of the crowd. "This is a fucking
disgrace
. Come night time I am going to wipe the
floor
with you, boy. Literally. Your blood will be in puddles and I will smear you into the
ground
. You can't run from me; you can't hide. Wherever you go, I will find your sorry asses and--"

He was cut off by a horrible, wet sound. Leander sucked the last dregs of his Big Gulp in through his straw, the noise seeming to echo in the room.

Leander put down his drink.

Leander stood up.

Dana had stepped forward, chest out, ready for posturing, ready to woof and huff.

Leander lunged, throwing himself at Dana knee first, arms at the ready. When Dana crumpled a little in response, Leander hooked an arm around the back of Dana's neck and dragged down, further collapsing Dana in on himself. Moving fast, Leander slammed Dana's head into a handy pillar, then a table, then a sturdy metal trashcan. Then Dana was at the perfect height for Leander to drop elbow strikes onto the back of his skull.

That was a highly illegal move in combat sports, Axton had learned, somewhere along the line of dating a martial artist.

"Yeah, motherfucker," Leander muttered, panting only a little from the exertion, "we're in public." Louder, ringing with satisfaction: "What
now
, asshole?"

Dana pushed against him roughly, strong enough to put some distance between them. Leander responded by kicking in the back of his knee.

"Range won't help you," he panted. "Mother
fucker
, you stay down."

In the harsh artificial light of the food court, Dana's pale blond hair shined until it was nearly white. Leander stepped in and grabbed a handful, only to hold Dana's head in while he kneed him in the face, trying to hit his nose as often as possible.

"You really can't fight for shit like this, can you?" Leander taunted, now slightly out of breath but still going.

Dana
snarled
, loud and wrong. Standing nearby, Axton could smell the sudden release of hormones that signaled a werewolf about to shift. That wasn't in the plan. He tensed, ready to turn, knowing he could do it faster--

Leander didn't loosen his hold, didn't stop kneeing Dana in the skull, though Axton knew he must be able to feel it, feel the unnatural rippling of Dana's skin as his body prepared to change.

"Oh, yeah?" Leander said. "That's how you wanna play? Can't beat me any other way, huh?"

With a wordless, raging shout Dana stopped the instinctual change of his shape, curling up to protect his head and trying to roll away.

The mall cops were converging.

Leander released Dana, stood up, stepped back, and held up his hands innocently. He did not resist as one of the security guards started to restrain him.

Springing to his feet, Dana bared his teeth and lunged at Leander, who threw himself back just enough to knock into the guard so that they were a confused tangled of limbs.

God, there was so much
shouting
, Axton thought.

Two more guards were trying to subdue Dana, who looked as frantic and cornered as a fox in a bear trap. It was obvious that his heart was screaming for Leander's blood, because it was far past time for him to bail.

One of the guards fell back and drew his gun.

Dana saw it, gave Leander one last, longing look of frustration and blood lust, and then ran. He outpaced the guards easily, who didn't want to shoot into a crowd, and was out the doors and into the parking lot at an improbable speed for a man of his size.

Later, Axton was eating another box of fries, and also several cheeseburgers.

"No, I'd definitely like to press charges," Leander said earnestly. He'd just had a ten minute digression about recovery workouts with a police officer who was recently back on duty since having his leg broken in a motorcycle accident. It was like they were best friends. They were having shitty mall coffee together and nodding along at each other's sentences. Most of the official questioning had been concluded and everything else was just for appearances.

Axton had given nervous, terse responses to all the questions he'd been asked, but everyone was treating him like he was an appropriate amount of shaken, so that was all right. For his first time dealing with any sort of human authority, he felt he'd done well. Sure, he'd been coached about what answers to give just an hour previously while Leander nursed his Big Gulp, but still.

No one seemed inclined to seriously question the attorney who hadn't resisted arrest, when the other guy had tried to continue the fight and then fled the scene.

There was also a certain sense of manly approval over how none of the blood on Leander's knuckles was his own. The sense of camaraderie was strong, and Axton remembered that Leander's father had been a cop, so maybe his sense of ease wasn't entirely planned and artificial.

It really did help that Officer Ramirez had corresponding views about squats vs leg press vs other things Axton didn't know the name of because, whatever, werewolves didn't have to go to the gym. Well, he didn't, anyway. He knew Dana did, because he liked having bigger biceps. Vanity muscle. Vanity muscles were a thing. Axton didn't look down on that, though--years ago he had quite appreciated Dana's biceps, after all. And not all of Leander's carefully maintained body was built for function, either.

Idly, Axton sipped at the refilled drink the size of a man's head. Dana was not at all seriously injured, he knew, but he would be thoroughly humiliated, angry, and inconvenienced.

"I mean, cardio, after a certain point, is just the fine art of losing gains," Officer Ramirez said.

"Sure," Leander said thoughtfully, "but I have to do some even with the low carb load. Not all of us have the metabolism to skip cardio all together."

"Not like this guy," Officer Ramirez said, nodding at Axton with admiration.

Axton unwrapped his third cheeseburger.

"I do cardio all the time," he said truthfully.

"Yeah? Are you a cyclist or what?"

Uh
, Axton thought, and he took a big bite of cheeseburger to stall.

"I run," he said, after chewing.

"That explains it," Ramirez said.

"I like your sleeves," Axton said, changing the subject, concerned as always that someone would finally look at his narrow hipped chassis and gold eyes, realization dawning until they jumped up, shouting in accusatory exclamation:
WEREWOLF!
Besides, he was being sincere. Axton could always appreciate a buff Latino with tattoos. There had also been a hot Asian cop with tattoos around for a while, too, but alas, he seemed to have left.

"Thanks," Ramirez beamed, turning his forearms up to better display the ink splashed across his skin.

"So, wait," Leander said. "What were you saying, about how you do supersets?"

That night they stayed in an upscale and crowded hotel in downtown Chicago. It was booked near full, and the attached bar/longue alone was open late into the night.

Leander, humming, hung up his suit bag in the closet. Even on the run, he'd insisted on packing one suit,
just in case
.

Just in case of what, Axton wasn't sure. Sudden court summons? Impromptu business negotiations? Role play sex?

Was it really role play, considering that Leander actually did wear a suit every day for work? Important questions.

"Proper technique," Leander said dreamily, "will compensate a lot for size and strength differences against an unskilled opponent."

Axton, sprawled out on the bed, tilted his head up and smiled. It was about the eighth variation on the topic Leander had dropped into conversation without preamble.

"You could just say, 'I told you so,'" he pointed out. "It would save some time."

"I know, but that alone doesn't convey how pleased with myself I am," Leander said, stripping his shirt off.

Axton stretched out languidly.

"Go on," he encouraged. "Just say it."

"Fine," Leander conceded, walking towards the bed. "I told you I could take your douchey ex-boyfriend in a fair fight."

"Praise be," Axton said solemnly. "I have seen the error of my ways."

"Now," Leander said. "Celebratory fucking?"

"Yes, please," Axton said. "While you're still pumped up and gladiatorial, preferably."

Leander hooked his arms around Axton's knees and yanked him forward, grinning.

Three days later, the next phase of the plan ended up involving a high speed car chase at midnight and luring Dana into a climate controlled storage rental facility.

Axton suspected that either Leander or Sarah had watched a lot of spy vs spy movies as a kid.

The door slammed open. Leander hit a switch, flooding the warehouse with harsh, blinding light one row after another. He was already sprinting down the center aisle by the time all the lights were on, and Axton followed close at his heels. There was a crashing sound somewhere behind them, and Axton supposed that was Dana wrenching himself free from the car wreck. Dana would be furious and hurt, which would make him impatient--

Snarling, Dana tore through the aisles until he found Leander and Axton, in the center of the warehouse.

Axton threw himself in front of Leander loyally, hackles raised.

"Ain't this fucking
precious
," Dana growled, advancing steadily, unhampered by all the blood dripping off his body.

"Remember, Ax," Leander said quietly. "Run just a few minutes of interference. We don't need much." He retreated further down the aisle.

"Oh, no no no no," Dana hissed. "Don't try and run away from the fight, not
now
. You've done well so far, bud. Come die like a man."

"Mm," Leander said, unholstering a Kel-Tec PMR 30. "Nope." Without hesitating, he shot Dana three times, hitting him for center mass twice, torso and chest.

Axton backed up slowly, staying just in front of Leander.

Dana laughed, taking measured, deliberate steps forward.

"You think that can stop me? I know you know wolves better than that. I know you know
me
better. Must be getting desperate."

"You're chatty," Leander said, stepping back once more and bracing himself. "I've always hated it when a guy does more trash-talking than fighting." He emptied the rest of the magazine, grazing Dana a few more times, landing some solid shots.

Dana buckled but grinned and kept on coming. It was obvious that he was gloating, now that he had them cornered and retreating.

"I told you, son. Werewolf wins over a human any damn day. Our bones heal in minutes, and we can take more heat than any of you are packing."

"Pity your tactics aren't worth a damn," Leander said, falling back.

"I'm gonna enjoy this," Dana promised, and his shoulders reared back as his bones started to change shape under his skin. Leander took the opportunity to reload.

Right when Dana was unfurling to the full height of his hybrid form, Axton leaped for his neck, sinking his teeth in and hanging on. Instinctually, Dana tried to shake him free, but Axton came away with a chunk of his skin. Blood gushed from the wound, and Dana slammed a claw against a metal door in frustration, leaving a huge dent. Quicker this time, he changed into his full wolf shape, turning to snap at Axton.

They circled each other in the cramped hallway, teeth gnashing. Axton wouldn't allow Dana to lunge at Leander, and Dana tried, at first, to avoid the werewolf on werewolf fight. But Axton snapped at his throat again, almost landing another brutal bite that would have been a killshot against nearly any other creature, and Dana finally threw himself at Axton, trying to pin him to the ground.

Axton had fought Dana many times in the past year, and at least half of those fights had been genuine, with both of them throwing themselves equally into the action. Often Axton had won, or at least fought Dana to a standstill. Tonight Dana fought like a wolf possessed, and even with his speed, Axton was hard pressed to even contain him. He risked a glance up--

Leander had his phone out and was fiddling with the screen.

The distraction did not go unnoticed, and Dana slammed Axton against a wall, pinning him by the throat. For perhaps the first time, Dana was holding him down hard enough to maim--there was blood on Axton's coat just from how Dana had his jaws clamped around his neck.