Prickly By Nature (11 page)

“A body was found yesterday by a hiker in Forest Park. Preliminary tests revealed the identity of the deceased as missing Portland Police Bureau Detective Frank Harris. Detective Harris disappeared in November of last year. Though foul play is suspected, autopsy findings will not be immediately available. Questions remain as to whether or not Detective Harris played any role in connection to the human trafficking victims rescued from a warehouse last—”

Avery slammed his MacBook shut, cutting off the anchorwoman’s voice. He fell back against the couch with a groan.
Fuck.
Harris was dead. There went any possibility of getting information from him, even though he would’ve probably cut some deal like his partner, Melnyk, and been given a new identity and cushy life somewhere else. Avery hadn’t realized he’d been holding out hope that the detective would turn up somewhere, unharmed. He’d figured Harris had fled upon hearing the news his partner had been arrested. Had the detective been lying dead in the woods this whole time? Probably.

Avery closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping in defeat. This investigation truly was going nowhere. He still hadn’t heard from Joel, and with Harris’s body being found, maybe he never would. He’d helped save those girls from the warehouse, but what had he accomplished beyond that? Not a damn thing.

He’d failed at being a functional adult until Dylan stepped in and Alpha Odell threw him a bone with that pack delivery job. He’d failed at making a good impression on his fated mate and caused a rift that had taken more than two years to mend. And now he was failing at bringing one young girl home, when he’d been almost singularly focused on her disappearance for months on end.

Maybe he really was just a stupid, useless hedgehog. What was his value outside of sex, to Dylan or anyone else? Avery didn’t usually lack confidence, but right then, he seriously wondered. Sure, he was hot, had a discerning fashion sense, and he’d never gotten complaints in the bedroom. Aside from that, what was there? People looked at him and saw a vapid, arrogant blond with more than his fair share of pride. His parents saw him as their disgrace, especially since he’d mated a wolf. Maybe he’d been wrong to let Dylan claim him. He’d tied Dylan to him forever, and lately all he’d brought Dylan was misery.

Avery felt tears sting behind his eyelids and squeezed them shut tighter.
Stupid stupid stupid.

“Av? What’s wrong?”

Dylan’s scent reached him just as the words did. In his distraction, Avery hadn’t heard movement in the house or the door to his den swinging open.

He peered up at Dylan’s concerned face, his eyes burning. “Detective Harris is dead,” he said, voice flat. “They found his body in Forest Park.”

Dylan’s brow furrowed. “Shit.”

“There goes that.”

Dylan settled on the couch next to him and placed a big hand on his thigh. “There’ll be other leads.”

Avery nodded like he believed that, as if he didn’t feel his hope dwindling down to nothing. “Let’s go to New Orleans. And the wedding. Jaden said he would want to go.”

Dylan searched his face. “Are you sure?”

No, he wasn’t. “Yeah. It’ll be something to look forward to. The New Orleans part at least. I’m putting two down on the RSVP card. You’re coming with me and there’s fuck all they can do to stop it.”

“Of course I’m coming with you.”

“Meeting my family won’t be fun.”

“Maybe it’ll go better than you think it will.”

Avery closed his eyes again. “Maybe.” He wouldn’t bet on it. Even if he was a betting man anymore, which he wasn’t—Dylan would have his spines.

Dylan curled his arm around Avery’s shoulders, and Avery settled against his side with a sigh.

The wedding was still almost a month away. In the meantime, he’d focus on getting more experience hours completed with Reid. Lacey had become his own personal phantom, haunting his every step, though they’d never met. He needed to get his head back together, and the only way to do that was distance.

Dylan was right. Avery needed a vacation. They both did.

“WE REMIND
you to please wait until you’re in the terminal before using any electronic devices,” the red-lipped, perky brunette recited from the front of the plane.

Dylan didn’t think the flight could get any longer, but this speech was grating on his last nerve. If she could just open the hatch and let him out, he’d be fine.

“On behalf of American Airlines and our entire crew, thank you for joining us on this trip, and we look forward to seeing you again soon. Enjoy your stay.”

Finally the chick was finished and the door released. Dylan could not get off the plane soon enough. He stood, grabbed his carry-on, and shuffled behind an ancient man who smelled of Old Spice and body odor. Fuck, he couldn’t even bring himself to care too much because his wolf was whimpering to get the fuck out of the metal sky trap.

“Slow down, big guy,” Avery said behind him. “You’d think you’ve never been on an airplane before.”

Dylan didn’t turn around, only kept trudging forward. Five more feet and he could breathe again. “I haven’t,” he mumbled.

Jaden coughed behind them, and Lucas grumbled something indiscernible.

“You’ve never flown?” Avery gasped. Dylan could picture him with his mouth hanging open, but he was not slowing down to look. “Why didn’t you tell me? Are you afraid of flying? We could’ve driven. It would have taken longer.” He muttered the last almost to himself. “But we could’ve. Are you okay?”

Avery’s concern made him grin, made him feel marginally better. Marginally. “I’m fine.” Two more steps. And out. Air rushed into his lungs. He wasn’t claustrophobic, nor was he afraid of flying. “Wolves weren’t meant to fly. They were meant to run and play and everything to do with having four paws on the earth,” he said soft enough for Avery to hear when he stepped up beside him.

“You should’ve told me.” Wide-eyed, Avery whipped around, ignoring the dirty looks he received from passengers cutting around him. “Have you ever flown, Luc?”

Lucas gave him an indulgent grin. “I’m fine, buddy. I’ve been on a plane before.” He nudged Avery lightly, at which Dylan glared. “Let’s get moving before these people trample you.”

When Avery first asked Dylan to invite Lucas on the trip, Dylan hadn’t been sure how it would go over, and in all honesty, he’d been sure Lucas was going to say no. Even after he’d said he’d think about it. In the end, all it took was one of Avery’s puppy-dog eye invitations, and Lucas was all in. He was losing his mind dealing with Lucas’s shit on top of Avery’s stress. And the one person he usually talked to about it all was Lucas. Fat lot of good that did lately.

“Come on,” Dylan directed, looping his arm around Avery’s shoulders.

An hour later, all four had their bags and their rental. And Christ, it was hot. Dylan fanned himself. How had his hedgehog grown up like this?

Avery snorted, and Dylan narrowed his eyes.

“You act like you’ve never met eighty degrees before.” Avery smirked.

“I’ve met eighty, brat. But this is what eighty feels like in hell.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Avery nodded solemnly. “Hell.”

Dylan rolled his eyes and hefted his bag into the back of the Highlander. “It feels like I’m breathing in water. I may have pneumonia by the end of the trip.”

“Welcome to April in New Orleans,” Avery drawled in his richest, over-the-top Cajun country accent, sounding a bit Southern and Jersey at the same time.

“Jesus,” Dylan mumbled, “wasn’t it just fifty or something this morning when we left the house?”

Avery threw his head back and laughed, making Dylan smile. “My childhood nanny would tell you to suck it up and rub some dirt on it.” He cocked his head to the side, then shrugged. “But I guess you can’t really rub dirt on that. Sucks to be you.”

“Jesus.” Jaden came up behind them, hauling a case and hanging bag. Dylan took the suitcase from him. “Could they have a bigger gas-guzzler?”

Avery snorted. “It’s a hybrid, Jay. And yes, it could’ve been a Suburban or a Hummer. Now quit complaining and get in. I have a date with Belle in thirty minutes. Hop to it.”

“Belle?” Jaden asked. That’s what Dylan wanted to know too.

Avery narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Yes, Belle. At the spa. I need a massage and a facial if I’m going to be forced to endure more than five minutes with my family. Now are you done yammering, or do you want to walk?”

Rolling his eyes, Dylan cut in, “Okay, kids, we’re going to play the quiet game.”

He held out his hands for the key, and Avery snapped back. “Like you know where we’re going. This is my city.”

Dylan pointed inside the open door. “I’m pretty sure I can follow navigation. Besides, you drive like a maniac.”

“We only have”—Avery checked his phone—“twenty-eight minutes. It’ll be less if you insist on having this conversation, which you know I’ll win.”

Dylan squinted at him. He was both infuriating and damn sexy at that moment.

Lucas groaned. “Oh, for the love of all that’s holy, can you get in the car now? You can fuck when you get to your room.” He slammed the door behind him.

“Spa first, fuck later,” Avery chirped and gave Dylan a winning smile.

Dylan growled. “Fine, but you owe me,” he relented. “Don’t kill us.” Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on Avery’s forehead.

“He’ll be okay,” Avery whispered, and Dylan knew he was talking about Lucas.

He only nodded back. He might be okay, but it wasn’t starting off that way. Dylan hated to upset his best friend, but he wasn’t going to keep Avery at arm’s distance to make Lucas feel more comfortable. He’d told Avery he didn’t think this was a good idea.

Avery slapped his ass, pulling him out of the depressing thoughts. “Twenty-seven,” he laughed. “Get your ass in the car.”

They made it to the B and B, a renovated firehouse in the French Quarter, with three minutes to spare and Dylan’s life flashing before his eyes only three times. He’d insist on driving from now on. Who the hell cared if they got lost, as long as they survived the ride?

Calling out his plans to return in a couple of hours, Avery trotted off to his appointment. Dylan used the time to relax in his own way—in bed, eyes closed, air conditioner on. True to his word, Avery returned relaxed and glowing. Dylan couldn’t say his mate was more beautiful. Avery had always caught his eye.

AFTER AVERY
returned, glowing and happy, Dylan had nearly taken Avery right there, but Avery stopped him with a finely arched brow and threats of skinning him alive if Dylan messed with his
ch’i
—whatever that meant. Which is how Dylan found himself, along with Avery, Lucas, and Jaden, wandering the Quarter.

Besides the sweltering heat, which surprisingly Dylan could ignore for a while, New Orleans was like nothing he had ever seen. Iron lace adorned balconies and staircases everywhere. Street musicians at Jackson Square set the mood—jazzy, free, fun. Dylan watched, letting the tinny music dance around him, move him. He and Avery danced while Jaden and Lucas giggled by the gate.

They walked by Marie Laveau’s. “Voodoo?” Dylan looked down at Avery, who nodded.

“Seems kinda kitschy.” Lucas peered at the window. “Are those voodoo dolls fluorescent?”

Avery stopped Dylan and whipped around to face Lucas. “Dude, no.” He stabbed a finger into Lucas’s chest.

“What?” Lucas laughed. “Don’t tell me you believe in this stuff?”

“You don’t have to believe in it,” Avery said. “It believes in you.”

“Okay, Mr. Cryptic,” Dylan said. Time to diffuse the situation. “Show me more.”

Avery smiled at him. He was in his element and more relaxed than Dylan had seen him in months. It was nice but at the same time, discouraging, because as much as Dylan wanted to be the one to put that look on Avery’s face every day, it would be impossible until Avery closed his case.

As they ate lunch at a little hole-in-the-wall, a big woman who looked to be in her late forties or early fifties with the smoothest dark brown skin Dylan had ever seen strutted to the table. “Well, if it isn’t my
bebette.
”

Avery was suddenly up and out of his chair. “Miss Georgie!” The woman engulfed him with her waiting arms, pulling him into her ample cleavage. After what Dylan thought was a strangely affectionate hug from his mate, Avery squeaked and pulled away. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“And I can’t believe you came without calling. Why on earth would I not be here, honey?” She swept an arm around the room in a flourish. “All of this is mine.”

Avery’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t?” he gasped, and Dylan almost laughed at his scandalized expression.

“I did, child.” She smiled at Dylan, then looked back to Avery. “Now,” she said, “introduce me to your friends.”

Dylan realized Georgie was no ordinary café owner. She was a big cat shifter. From her size and smell, Dylan couldn’t single out which feline species, but she was definitely a predator. He could see it in her lime-green eyes when they narrowed on him.

“This is my mate.” Avery held out his hand. Dylan took it and stood. “Dylan. Dylan, this is Miss Georgie. She used to work for Mama and Daddy before she wised up and left.”

“I left St. Tammany’s Parish, not you. You know that.” The admonishment was filled with love. She gripped Dylan’s hand when he offered it and shook. A smirk tilted the corner of her mouth. “A wolf?” she gasped. “I’ll just bet your daddy loves that.”

Dylan snorted. “He doesn’t have to love it.”

“Ooh, I like you. Tell me”—she leaned in close—“have you met our dear Mr. Babineaux yet?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure. But soon,” Dylan replied.

Wide-eyed, Georgie shot a look at Avery. “Do tell me you’re taking him to Wynnie’s wedding.”

Avery giggled. “Wyn hates when you call him that, so be sure and do it plenty on Saturday.” He winked at her, the brat. “And yes, Dylan and I are here for the wedding. You’re coming too, aren’t you?”

“Of course I’ll be there, honey,” she drawled in her tinny
yat
dialect. “If you think I’d actually miss one of my boys’ nuptials, you’ve forgotten who raised you.”