Prickly By Nature (4 page)

Avery was more than a little obsessed with the idea of finding him. Whenever he went out, he always had his eyes peeled on the off chance he’d run into Troy again. Or even the guy who’d clued him in to the idea of human trafficking in the first place. Avery didn’t know his name, but he’d recovered the grainy picture he’d surreptitiously snapped on his phone while they stood at the bar at Intrepid. He’d almost despaired at the idea of losing the image when his phone hadn’t been located after that awful auction, but then he remembered the cloud storage. Saved by automatic backup.

Yet as often as he searched and hoped, he went home disappointed every time. Maybe with what happened at the warehouse and Melnyk’s very public arrest, the ringleaders had taken their operation elsewhere. It seemed logical. Why stay in Portland when the heat was on? It made sense to move or at least lie low for a while. Of course that meant Avery’s investigation had stalled as well. Not even Reid’s files had helped. Avery had pored over them for hours, but they only led to more questions. More missing girls. More grieving families.

The night was shaping up to be another bust. Avery had been there for hours, and he’d flashed both Lacey’s and Intrepid Guy’s pictures around, but people in the club scene had short memories. If they weren’t interested in fucking someone, they didn’t pay attention. Even then, when alcohol and drugs were involved, some people couldn’t even remember their partners from the night—or even five minutes—before. It was ridiculous to think he’d catch a break after all this time. Still, Avery couldn’t give up. As long as Lacey was missing, he owed it to her and to Mr. Otis. No one else was looking for yet another young girl who’d disappeared and hadn’t been heard from again. There were too many of them, too many families demanding answers, too many trails gone cold.

Lacey was Avery’s responsibility now. His duty. He wouldn’t fail her or her father. He’d made promises, and to the old Avery, maybe those wouldn’t have meant much. Maybe he would’ve never been capable of thinking beyond himself, of putting someone else first. He wasn’t that Avery anymore.

Avery straightened his shoulders. More people had come in while he lingered at the bar. He was at the club already, not home with his mate as he should’ve been. He wouldn’t let it be a wasted opportunity. Time to make another round.

“DO YOU
recognize this girl?” Avery lifted his phone, speaking loudly to be heard over the people placing orders with the bartender. He felt a flare in the mate bond, and knew instinctively Dylan had just entered Howl. For the time being, he ignored that knowledge.

The blonde standing next to him—Bella, she’d said when they introduced themselves—squinted at the picture on the screen. “No.”

“You sure? She used to come here all the time. Name’s Lacey.”

Bella shook her head. “Nope. Never seen her. But if you’re looking for some action, I’d be happy to take her place.”

Avery gave what he hoped was a remorseful smile. “I don’t swing your way, darlin’. If I did, you’d be first on my list.” He winked. “She’s a friend, and she’s missing.”

Bella peered at the screen again, sympathy clouding her expression. “Oh, wow. That sucks. Wish I could help, but I don’t know her.”

Avery nodded and scrolled to Intrepid Guy’s picture. “What about him?”

“No. He missing too?”

Avery locked the screen and tucked the phone into his pocket. “Not that I know of. He might have some information, though.”

“Well, I’m sorry. I don’t know him either. I’m kind of new in town.”

Avery forced another smile to his mouth. “No worries. Let me buy you a drink.” He flagged the bartender down, let Bella place her order, and paid the tab before wishing her a good night.

Without seeking Dylan out, he withdrew his cell and approached a group he hadn’t spoken to. He knew Dylan wouldn’t interfere. He’d been extra paranoid since Avery’s abduction, and he wanted to be around in case Avery needed help, but he tried not to be overbearing. Avery got it. He really did. He had nightmares sometimes about seeing Dylan shot. Still, it chafed a little. He didn’t enjoy being babysat.

Avery tapped a tall guy on the shoulder. The guy turned to him and looked him up and down. “Yeah?”

“Just a second of your time.” Avery pulled up Lacey’s photo and held the phone so the guy could see. “Do you know her?”

The guy scrutinized the picture for a second. “Nah, man.” He started to turn away.

“She’s been missing for months,” Avery blurted before the guy dismissed him completely. “You sure you haven’t seen her around? She used to date this guy Troy. Looks kind of like a frat boy. Tanned, beefy, wears a baseball cap. You know, the real douche bag type.”

“I said nah.”

“Well, maybe your friends—”

The guy waved a dark brown hand. “Look, we don’t pay attention to white girls. We like our women with flavor, ya feel me?”

“But can we ask them? Just in case?”

The guy grunted and took the phone from Avery’s hand. He tapped the screen to brighten the image and aimed it at his group. “Hey, any of y’all know this chick?”

One by one, the other four guys shook their heads. The last made a lewd comment about jungle fever and how he wouldn’t mind
getting
to know her. Avery cringed. So much for the whole “women with flavor” comment.

Avery took his phone back. It was probably a lost cause, but he showed them Intrepid Guy’s picture anyway. “What about him?”

Another round of headshakes and nopes.

“Thanks. Sorry to interrupt you.”

Sighing, he stepped away from the group and glanced around the club. He’d talked to everyone on this level at some point. By now, he was well-acquainted with the regulars. Disheartened, he made his way upstairs. He’d give himself a time limit. One more hour, then he’d head out.

AFTER QUESTIONING
anyone he didn’t recognize, Avery gave up and left the club. He had no doubts Dylan would follow.

Outside, he paused on the crowded sidewalk. He’d ridden MAX—the light-rail system in Portland—to the stop closest to Howl, since his car was still MIA, probably permanently, and it wouldn’t be convenient to bicycle there from the southeast side of the city. He knew Dylan would have one of his motorcycles or the Firebird with him. They could go home together, as they had in the past.

Seconds later, he scented Dylan, then felt his mate’s presence at his back. Avery sighed softly and held out his hand without turning to look. Dylan’s fingers threaded through his and squeezed.

“Ready?” Dylan asked.

Avery nodded.

“You’ll catch a break soon, Av. I know you will.”

Avery smiled, preening a little. Maybe Dylan did have faith in him after all. Even if he felt like Dylan underestimated him sometimes, it was hard to blame his mate for wanting to keep him safe. He wanted to protect Dylan too. “I will.”

“Let’s go home.”

Avery allowed himself to be led to Dylan’s black Softail. He’d learned the names of all of Dylan’s motorcycles over the last few months. This was his favorite. It was the one Dylan had been riding when he rescued Avery from Josiah and his cronies in Forest Park. God, that seemed like ages ago. He still remembered every second of that ride home, how it felt to be pressed to Dylan’s back, his heat, when Avery finally stopped trying to hold himself away. Now he had no problems tucking himself against Dylan and wrapping his arms around Dylan’s waist.

I love you.
He’d say it aloud soon. But maybe Dylan heard. Avery felt the push of comfort through their bond.

He rested his helmeted head against Dylan’s shoulder and closed his eyes. As Dylan started the engine and pulled away from the curb, Avery reveled in the warmth and strength of his mate. He clung tightly the whole way home.

IF AVOIDANCE
were an Olympic sport, Dylan would probably claim the gold. A week had come and gone since that night at the club, and Avery seemed to be home less and less. It was a good thing Dylan knew Avery was with Reid, or he’d have been out on the street tracking him down.

His phone rang as he stepped into the house. He thought about not answering. No doubt it was Avery calling because he was running late.

“Late night?” Dylan answered. He tossed the mail on the kitchen table, eyeing a thick envelope addressed to Avery in curly swipes of calligraphy.

“Is that any way to greet your mother?” Betty Green teased.

Dylan chuckled. “Oh, hey, Mom. Sorry, I thought you were Avery.”

“The poor baby. Is he still working himself into exhaustion?”

“More than you know,” Dylan supplied with a sigh. He didn’t want to talk about Avery’s long hours. “What’s up?”

“Oh.” She sounded distracted. “I was checking to make sure you and Avery were still planning on making it to lunch tomorrow. Your father has plans or some such—I don’t really know—but he won’t be there.”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to Avery and get back with you. I don’t see why he wouldn’t be able to make it.” In the kitchen, he gathered ingredients for pasta. Dylan smiled to himself as he chopped vegetables. In the short time he and Avery had lived together, it had become instinct to prepare one meal two ways. While he would fix his with chicken, Avery’s would have an assortment of vegetables and tofu. Avery loved tofu. Dylan didn’t get the attraction. Avery preferred Dylan’s cooking. Though Dylan wished Avery liked learning to cook
with
him a little more. They did that less often these days. Dylan sort of missed the messes and burned food and botched recipes. It was fun.

He listened to his mother go on about the neighbors, the Waldorf salad Mrs. McVay brought to bridge club, and the quilt she was working on—green and gold to represent the University of Oregon Ducks.

“For Avery,” she said, pride in her voice.

“That’s cute, Mom. He’ll like it.” He smiled, slicing mushrooms before tossing them in the skillet to sauté.

“Don’t tell him, though. I want it to be a surprise.”

“It will most definitely be a surprise.” Just imagining the excitement in his mate’s eyes when Betty gave him the present brought a smile to his face. Avery wasn’t a homebody, and thinking of him with handmade anything was sweet. He could almost see Avery curled up on the sofa with it. Avery would appreciate the thoughtful gift from his mother.

The front door opened and closed behind him, but his mom was still rambling on, and he didn’t want to burn the food, so he didn’t turn to look at Avery. A hand brushed over his ass, and he leaned over to accept a kiss on his cheek. After pouring cream in the pan, he turned to find Avery smiling down at his phone, but that wasn’t what Dylan paid attention to. It was the purple-blue bruise in full bloom across his left cheek that had Dylan’s hackles up.

When Avery glanced up from his phone, he smiled as if nothing was wrong. “Pasta?” he mouthed and his smile widened.

Dylan squinted at him. “Mom, I gotta go,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hung up the phone before she could say anything, then started in on Avery. “What the fuck?”

“What?” Avery stepped over to the stove and dipped the mixing spoon into the sauce, raised it to his mouth, and then licked it off. His moan had Dylan’s cock twitching, but then Avery turned and Dylan saw the dark bruise under his eye again and his anger was renewed. “God, that is so good.”

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Dylan growled. “What the hell happened to your face?”

Avery’s eyes got wide. “There was this kid who skipped out on his protective detail.” He talked so fast and excited, Dylan didn’t know whether to be annoyed by it or share in his enthusiasm. “His mother called Reid to help find him before his dealer caught up to him.” Avery wandered to the cupboard and pulled out a bag of chips.

“I’m cooking, you know.” Avery’s junk-food habit was ridiculous. It was a wonder the bottomless pit was as skinny as he was.

Avery grunted his acknowledgment, then went on. “It’s a good thing she called, ’cuz Reid found out the dealer had a hit out on the kid.”

And that’s all it took for Dylan to lose his appetite. Just thinking about Avery chasing down some random stranger with a target painted on his back scared the shit out of him. His stomach gurgled.

Avery didn’t seem to notice. “And do you know where we found him?” The look on his face said it should have been obvious, but Dylan could hardly keep up with the conversation for the what-ifs running through his head. A grin split Avery’s face. “His girlfriend’s house.” He threw his hands in the air. “It was the last place we looked, because Reid said all kids eventually run home to mommy, but no way. I had this feeling the guy would be with his girl. I mean, where would you go if you hadn’t gotten laid in three months?” His face had
duh
written all over it.

“Yeah,” Dylan breathed. Damn, hearing everything turned out fine should be easier. “And your face?”

“Oh.” Avery’s fingers drifted to his cheek and skimmed the bruise. He winced and sucked in a quick stuttered breath. “It’s not as bad as it looks. It hardly hurts.”

Dylan opened his mouth to call his bluff, and Avery cut him off. “Don’t look at me like that. So anyway, the kid ran and I had to tackle him. Caught an elbow to the face.” He grimaced. It was the first sign Avery didn’t think he was Superman.

Dylan stepped into his space, curled a hand around his hip, and tugged him close. He cupped Avery’s uninjured cheek. The bruise on the other had already faded some. At least that was encouraging.

“You’re okay, though?” Dylan asked, searching the hazel eyes blinking up at him. They were clear and honest, and even if he hadn’t seen it, he’d know Avery’s next words were true because Dylan felt it.

“I’m okay,” Avery whispered with a grin.

“Good.” Dylan leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Good.”

Avery gave him another quick kiss, then stepped back. “How long till dinner?” he asked. “I need a shower.”

“We’ve got a bit. You have time. I still have to start the pasta.” When Avery turned to walk off, Dylan remembered the letter. “Oh, hey,” he called out, walking over to the kitchen table, “you got some mail today.”