Loving Styles [Brac Village 12] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (12 page)

“You are being too gentle,” Tryck snarled. “Wake up, Robby!”

Styles growled at Tryck who merely shrugged. He was about to go off on the man for screaming at his mate, but then Robby’s eyes fluttered open. His skin was turning paler, his eyes duller.

“I need you to shift,” Styles said softly. “You need to heal.”

Robby licked his lips before he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “But you hate wolves.”

Was the man serious? He was willing to die in order not to let his wolf free? Styles couldn’t believe the sacrifice his mate was going to make in order to stop Styles from going apeshit. “Shift, damn it,” he gritted out. “I won’t lose you.”

Styles was thrown into his past as he watched Robby slowly change into his wolf. The fur sprouted, his muzzle emerged, and Styles was trying his best to hold it together. He had been fooling himself. He had told himself that he could mate Robby but that was because he hadn’t seen the man in his wolf form.

He was seeing it now and he had to take a step back as all the years of hatred and resentment came flooding forward. He stared at Robby—the wolf—his mate. He wanted to hate Robby. Styles wanted to renounce his claim—no, he didn’t—yes, he did.

“Can you handle him changing into a wolf, reminding you what fate gave you? You are facing your worst fear,
mi hermano perdido
.” Tryck’s voice held a tone of sadness. “You are looking at your enemy that you have mated.”

“H–He’s not my enemy.” Styles curled his fingers in, reminding himself that it was Robby lying on the ratty old couch, not the ones who killed his parents, not the ones who tortured him as a young adult.

This wolf cared about him, had sent him ransom notes, and never gave up. This wolf pushed and pushed as Styles pushed back. He hadn’t given up and he hadn’t let Styles chase him off.

“Do you feel the need to kill him?” Tryck moved closer, his eyes going from Styles to Robby. “Do you feel that hate eating you alive?”

“I—” Styles’s eyes swept over the wolf, his light tan fur, the way his chest rose and fell quickly, and waited for the all-consuming rage to rear its head—for his emotions to tear apart what he was starting—had been feeling—toward his mate.

Styles dropped to his knees, covering his face with his hands as he mourned the loss of his parents once more. Images of those responsible became vivid in his mind, like a long lost ghost coming back to haunt him—a ghost that had never truly left.

“If you can never love him the way he deserves to be loved, you must let him go. A life cannot be built on hatred. You have a choice to make,
mi hermano perdido
—your hatred or your mate. You cannot have both.”

“Just shut up!” Styles rocked back and forth, hearing the truth in Tryck’s words but unable to face it. “What do you know about mating the enemy? What do you know about hating someone so deeply that it scars you?”

“Do you hate Robby? Is he the enemy you refer to?”

Images of the man cornering Styles in the shack came to mind. Had anyone ever looked at him with such love in their eyes? Styles had felt those raw, vulnerable emotions coming from Robby down to his very core. The man hadn’t been lying. He loved Styles and Styles knew Robby would sacrifice his life for Styles.

“He’s not my enemy,” Styles whispered into the room.

“Then who is your enemy?”

Styles gritted his teeth, wading through the pain, the anguish, and the hatred, trying to find solid ground to rest on. “Those who hurt me, my parents. The men who took their lives, who tried to take mine.”

“Am I your enemy?”

Styles glanced up at Tryck, seeing in the man’s eyes that he wasn’t trying to be an ass but asking a genuine question. “No, but you like to fuck with me because of my hatred.”

Tryck shrugged, looking unapologetic. “True, but only because I have not aggrieved you yet you snarl in ways that irritate me. I am who I am, Styles. I am better with negative than positive. But the difference between you and I is that I only hate those who have wronged me and are mildly perturbed by those I just don’t like.”

“Why did you hire me?” Styles had always wanted to ask that question but his pride had never let him utter those words.

The side of Tryck’s mouth twisted into a smile. “Maverick suggested it. He told me that a coyote who needed to find his way was going to ask for a job and that I needed to hire him. I normally try to do everything in my power to piss that man off, but”—Tryck let out a long sigh—“it was a part of my loan agreement.”

Now Styles was simply confused. “But this bike shop has been open for years. How did he know about me back then?”

“The man is strange that way. He sees shit no one else sees. I may have my differences with the alpha, but one thing I have learned over the years is that he truly cares about the underdog, children, and those who are lost.” Tryck narrowed his eyes at Styles. “But if you tell him I said any of this, I’ll deny it all and come after you.”

Styles turned back toward Robby, but instead of feeling the hatred that had first consumed him, he wanted revenge against the man who had attacked his mate. “I won’t change overnight, Tryck. I still don’t like you.”

Tryck chuckled. “The day you start liking me will mean I am losing my touch,
mi hermano perdido
. I am acerbic on purpose. It is in my nature, but not yours. I don’t see you as a man who hates the world.”

But he did—had. Styles wasn’t sure any longer. Nothing seemed to be how it was and Styles knew that he was indeed changing. Robby had been the catalyst. He had shown Styles that being loved by a wolf wasn’t a bad thing.

He watched as Tryck left the room and then Styles turned toward his mate. He inched closer, getting a better look. For a wolf, Robby was handsome. His fur looked soft to the touch, and he was smaller than Styles would have assumed. Could he love Robby that way he deserved to be loved?

Hate or mate?

Styles knew in his heart that he was going to choose his mate. Tryck was right—although he would never tell the man this—he couldn’t have both. Styles settled in next to the couch, placing his arm over Robby’s body. He stared at the sleeping wolf, and knowing that this was his mate, Robby, Styles felt no hatred, only sadness at the injustice his parents had suffered.

Reese was also right. They would be happy that he had found his mate.

Styles snapped his head around when he heard a noise behind him. He was ready to attack until he saw that it was Reese. How in the fuck did the man do it? How did he always know when Styles was hurting?

“Kenway told me that Robby had disappeared from the bakery. I just wanted to check on him.”

“That man is a bigger gossip than Spencer.” Styles snarled the words. “He’ll be fine as soon as he’s finished healing.”

“What happened?” Reese grabbed a crate and turned it over, taking a seat as he rested his arms on his thighs.

“Someone stabbed him.” Saying the words only reminded Styles that he had someone to hunt down and kill. Now more than ever he wanted to know what was in that damn envelope. He knew Robby had hidden the thing, but Styles was ready to find out what was in it and then hand it over to the alpha to deal with.

Robby wasn’t cut out for this cloak and dagger bullshit. The man was a baker, not a fighter. Styles would take up his fight. He was more suited for that job. Robby was sweet and innocent.

“Do you know who did this?” He could hear the rumble of anger in Reese’s chest.

“Not yet, but I’m going to find out.” Styles was going to show that person that no one fucked with his mate. Robby was his and this couldn’t go unpunished. If he let it go, then he was only inviting more trouble.

“
We
are going to find out,” Reese corrected him. “I’m not letting you go this alone. Why should you have all the fun?”

“We’re not going on vacation, Reese. We’re hunting down the man who hurt Robby so I can kill him.”

Reese nodded. “I know.”

Smoothing his hand over Robby’s fur, Styles was beginning to see that his hatred had blinded him to a lot of things. He had always called Reese friend, but Styles had kept the man at arm’s length. He had kept everyone at arm’s length, afraid of letting them get too close, terrified of either losing them or being betrayed by those he thought cared.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “Thanks for always being there for me, even when I didn’t want you there.”

Reese let out a low laugh. “You getting soft on me, coyote?”

Styles narrowed his eyes at Reese. “You still aren’t watching us have sex.”

Styles slowly mopped the floor, watching everyone around him. The lobby of the law firm was pristine, not really needing further cleaning, but Styles was on a mission. Reese had talked him into thinking things through. The man had told him not to go in guns blazing. Maverick had done a little digging and found out the man who had hired the hit man was a lawyer at a law firm in the city. His name was Joseph Levitt. The guy being human, Styles couldn’t just walk in here and openly kill the man.

He kept his head down, trying to look as nondescript as he could. Styles wasn’t going to let the murder of Joseph Levitt fall on anyone’s head back in Brac Village. The town was already being scrutinized enough by the Vampire Hunters.

The man at the security desk headed his way.

Styles had moved into position when one of the real janitors had called in sick. He had knocked out the person coming in from the temp agency. The man was currently taking a nap in the backseat of his car.

He was also tied up and had a piece of duct tape over his mouth just in case the guy woke early.

“Get up to the second floor. There’s been a spill in Mr. Levitt’s office,” the guard said to him. Styles nodded, making sure there was no eye contact as he pushed the mop bucket toward the elevator. Reese had posed as a client needing advice. He told Styles that he would make sure something spilled.

As the elevator doors opened, Styles stepped on as Reese exited. They locked eyes for a moment, Reese giving him a subtle nod, telling him that Mr. Levitt was in.

Styles’s fingers curled around the mop handle as the doors closed. He was going to teach the man about hiring someone to come after his mate. Maverick had assured him that if he found the hit man, he would hold the guy until Styles returned.

It was a very strange feeling having wolves help him. Reese was a polar bear, but the Santiago brothers had given him the day off to go find the lawyer. Robby was at home, under lock and key until they found the hit man. Ryker, one of the white Siberian tiger shifters, was watching over Styles’s mate.

“Right in here,” someone said as soon as the elevator doors opened. “A client knocked over the water cooler in Mr. Levitt’s office and I need you to clean it up before the water ruins anything.”

From the way the woman was worrying her hands, Styles guessed that she was Mr. Levitt’s secretary. He didn’t stick around long enough to ask. He moved in the direction that she was pointing, not uttering a word.

The secretary went back behind her desk, not giving Styles another thought. That was what he wanted. Styles didn’t want anyone remembering him.
Oh my, someone killed Mr. Levitt? I don’t remember anyone suspicious going into his office.
That was exactly how he wanted it to go down when the body was discovered.

Walking into the office as if he did this sort of work all the time, Styles glanced over his shoulder to make sure nobody was watching before he silently closed the door behind him. He cursed under his breath when he saw that the office was empty. Where in the hell was that lawyer?

Grabbing the expensive-looking coat off the back of the chair, Styles tossed it onto the spilled water. He wasn’t here to clean the damn thing up. Instead of waiting idly for the human to return, Styles started poking around.

He found nothing of interest until he came across a locked drawer. Styles gave a hard tug, using his shifter strength to pry it open. The drawer protested before the wood splintered. He slid it open and glanced inside.

My oh my. Why would a lawyer have a gun hidden in his drawer? He wondered if the human had ever used it, and if he had, had it been to kill any nonhumans? Styles also spotted an envelope. Plucking it from the drawer, he opened it.

As Styles scanned over the paper, he felt the lead weight settle in his stomach as his heart began to beat harder. He turned to the next page, and then the next, finding any nonhuman’s worst nightmare.

The pages contained names, addresses, and what species or breed the person was. It was a very detailed compilation of intel on the paranormal world. How in the fuck did Mr. Levitt get this? There was only one answer. A paranormal creature had betrayed them. No human could possibly know all of this.

Hearing a noise outside the door, Styles shoved the list back into the envelope and then slid it down the back of his pants, placing his shirt over the evidence. Styles was willing to bet his life the copy of that list was in the envelope that Robby was currently hiding. That was enough for anybody to kill for.

Maybe Mr. Levitt had sent the list to another hunter, the envelope getting lost in the mail. That was a damn good reason to hire a hit man. He had to get this information to Maverick because Styles had no clue what to do with it.