To Catch A Croc (9 page)

“You can lie on whatever you want as long as you do it near me,” Isaac said.

“Thanks.” Denton felt better. The drive to the bar passed relatively quickly, though Denton was quick to note that Isaac lost every bit of his sanity after he got behind a wheel. When they reached the bar, it was all he could do not to jump out and kiss the earth in excitement. No longer was the world spinning out of his control.

“You are a little melodramatic, aren’t you?” Isaac asked dryly.

“No. You shouldn’t be licensed to drive a golf cart, much less a full-sized motor vehicle.” Denton scolded. “I’d better drive the rest of the way.”

“Over my dead body,” Isaac snapped.

“Don’t make it necessary,” Denton replied.

Isaac tossed over the keys. Denton knew his mate would pick the fight back up another time. Right now, Marty was on the clock. Who knew what the salties were doing to him while they exchanged light banter?

They entered the bar shoulder to shoulder. Denton made sure to meet each shifter’s gaze before moving on. Not one of them looked guilty.

Crap.

“Is Marty still gone?” One of the hawks stepped forward.

Denton had no idea of his name. The feathered ones all blended together with their black leather and cropped hair, like little clones that joined the dark side as one group.

“Yes. We’re still looking for him.” Denton agreed. He didn’t give details—it wasn’t their business. Not anymore.

“I’d like to help,” the strange hawk replied.

All the clone hawks nodded their agreement.

“At this point, we’re trying to determine if he made it to Terminal Eighteen or not.”

“I can fly there and come back quickly,” the helpful hawk shifter offered.

Several others added their agreement.

“I think an entire flock of hawks would attract too much attention. A couple of you should do the trick, if you’re willing.”

Again lots of nods were his answer.

“What’s your name?” Denton asked the eager hawk.

“Benji. This is Tim,” he pointed to the shifter on his right. “We’d both like to go.”

“Okay. Fly there and report back. Look for Marty’s motorcycle and for salties.”

“Will do.”

The two men eagerly left the bar to do their work.

“Who do you think you are to order my men around,” a snarly voice asked.

Denton turned to face this new speaker. A black-haired man with the usual biker leathers marched through the crowd. From the scornful looks he received from the rest of the flock, Denton knew this must be Lance, the guy Marty said was going for his alpha position.

“I asked you a question,” Lance replied.

Denton opened his mouth to speak when a whiff of scent crossed his nose. “When did you last see Marty?”

Lance folded his arms and looked down at Denton. “What business is it of yours?”

“Four hours ago,” another helpful hawk offered.

“How come the scent of Marty is fresher on your skin then?” Denton narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lance scowled at him. “Why would you come here and try to cause problems?”

“You may not know this, but crocodiles have a keen sense of smell and I can smell Marty all over you.” Denton stepped forward. Lance spun around and Denton knew he was going to try and fly away. “Someone stop him.”

Before any of the hawk shifters could do anything, a large puma rushed past Denton and pounced on Lance. The beige cat let out a loud snarl when Lance tried to wiggle out of his hold.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Denton said. The cat stood almost three feet tall from floor to shoulder.

When Denton approached the puma, it rubbed its cheek against Denton’s hip. “Good kitty, yes, you are. When you change back, I’ll give you a treat later.”

He scratched beneath Isaac’s chin, pleased when the big yellow eyes half-closed in bliss.

“I killed him. He deserved to die!” Lance shouted.

Immediately Denton’s attention returned to their captive. He crouched down until Lance met his eyes. He felt his eyes shift as he looked at the trapped hawk. “You better hope he’s not dead, because his mate is good with a gun and will take it very badly if you killed Marty.”

Fear clawed at Denton. His friend would be mateless for the rest of his life if Lance really had killed Marty.

“Where is he?” Denton demanded.

“I’ll never tell!” Lance vowed.

Denton stood up. “Do you want to eat him or should I?”

Isaac-puma tilted his furry head.

“I thought we’d start at his feet, and hopefully he won’t bleed to death before he confesses. My croc will enjoy the toes, I think.”

Truthfully, he had to concentrate very carefully not to puke on the bar floor.

Denton focused and let his mouth stretch in a manner worthy of the best horror movie master.

Screams deafened his hearing before he had a chance to do anything more.

“I’ll talk. I’ll talk! He’s underneath. Underneath the bar! P-please, please don’t eat me.”

The smell of urine filled the room. Denton transformed back to full human. He ran his tongue over his teeth to verify they were back to their normal shape. “Show us!”

Isaac stayed in his puma form as they followed Lance behind the bar.

With shaking hands, Lance pulled back the rubber mat exposing a hatch below. He pulled it open. Marty lay still and pale on the ground underneath. From the angle of his arms, Denton wondered if he’d ever be able to fly again.

“Fuck, you broke him,” Denton whispered.

The sound of glass shattering was the only warning he had. Blood spurted from a hole in Lance’s forehead.

“Where is he?” Eaton stood in the middle of the bar. The rest of the hawks were lined up as far away from him as possible. Denton couldn’t blame them. Eaton had enough weapons and ammo strapped to his body to make Rambo green with envy.

“He’s down there,” Denton pointed.

“I’ll get him,” a soft voice spoke.

When had Harris arrived?

Denton raised an eyebrow at his friend.

“I couldn’t let Eaton come alone,” Harris said softly.

Denton wisely refrained from commenting. He dragged Lance out of the way so Harris could get in there. The space behind the bar didn’t have a lot of room.

Harris hopped into the small access hole and scooped Marty up in his arms. “He’s breathing,” he told Eaton.

“Good.” Eaton’s hands shook a bit when he caught sight of Marty. “Let’s get him home.”

Denton shoved Lance into the hole, closed the hatch, then slapped the rubber mat back over the opening.

“Hey, what are we supposed to do about Lance?” one of the braver hawks asked.

Denton shrugged. “How should I know? It’s not my bar.”

The bar door burst open and Benji and his friend rushed inside.

“They’re there. No sign of Marty but I saw salties all over the port, at least two-dozen,” Benji’s words all rushed together, but Denton deciphered them easily.

“Thanks, you two did great.” He resisted the urge to pet them like the eager puppies they seemed.

He headed for the door with his puma following close behind.

“What do we do now?” Benji asked.

“You find a new leader and do what you usually do?” Denton replied.

“But your eagle friend is our new leader, since he killed Lance,” Benji said.

Denton almost laughed but he doubted the hawks in the room would appreciate that action. “Okay, here’s the deal. Eaton is going to take care of Marty. While Marty heals, you guys can help me with my little project.”

Epilogue

Denton floated blissfully in the warm water. He loved his pool. As a mating gift, it didn’t get any better than this. He lazily flicked his tail back and forth, enjoying the silky water across his skin.

He enjoyed the house he shared with Isaac. He’d moved in as soon as the hawks began living in the Queen Anne mansion. Turned out they didn’t have any place to sleep. Their old landlord had sold their apartments the last time they left and all their belongings were in boxes.

Eaton took pity on them, but said Carey would have the final say.

They had earned their keep, though. The saltwater crocs couldn’t overcome the large quantity of plastic explosives the hawks transported to the cargo ship. It was enough to destroy their containers, kill most of the crocs but not sink the ship. Denton hadn’t wanted to be responsible for an oil spill if the ship sank, since he didn’t know what else the crocs might have wanted to bring ashore.

Sadly, after five days, Marty still hadn’t recovered. Eaton sat beside him daily, hoping he’d come out of his self-induced coma, but nothing yet.

“Come out, come out, little croc,” Isaac’s voice reached Denton through the water.

He lazily swam over to his lover.

“Shift. I want to speak with the man, not the swamp monster,” Isaac scolded.

Denton shifted. “I’m not a swamp monster,” he protested.

“Not a very good one, anyway. I think the goldfish are mocking you,” Isaac teased.

“There aren’t any goldfish.” He took a quick look to verify. Isaac did like to leave surprises. He let Isaac put the platinum ring back on his finger. They weren’t married, but Isaac said it reassured him when humans knew Denton was taken.

“There,” Isaac said, satisfaction oozing from him.

“Now that you have me properly claimed, what did you want?” Denton asked.

“This.” Isaac wrapped Denton in his arms and kissed him as if they hadn’t made love in the past hour.

Denton willingly surrendered to his mate. The worry in the back of his mind that the salties wouldn’t give up so easily ate away at him. He’d have to be careful to keep an eye out. Especially now that he had a mate. On the plus side, if he needed to go swimming anywhere other than his pool, Isaac promised to take him.

Filled to overflowing with love, Denton let Isaac lead him out of the swimming area. The bed was calling and it was time to remind Isaac what it meant to be lucky enough to catch a croc.

About the Author

Amber Kell lives in Seattle, WA with her husband, two sons, three cats and one extremely stupid dog. She loves to hear from her fans at [email protected]