Prickly By Nature (9 page)

The bite was permanent, a reaction of their animals joining and melding souls. Telling Avery he loved him was a reaction of Dylan’s human side, one that would strengthen every aspect of their lives. But the thought of Avery running held him back. So he’d wait. The time would come. Dylan just had to be patient.

RIDING MAX
was interesting. Most people ignored each other, focused on their phones or their books, their e-readers or newspapers, sometimes their laptops. Some, like Avery, simply watched. It had become a force of habit in the weeks since he’d started working with Reid. Keen observation skills were a necessity for any PI worth his salt. As passengers got on and off at their various stops, Avery studied them and subtly sniffed as they passed to see if he could pick up anything suspicious.

It was one of those days at the beginning of March, when he was bored and paying more attention than usual, that he caught wind of a vaguely familiar scent. At first he thought his nose was playing tricks on him. The smell wasn’t from someone he interacted with regularly, but one that had been burned into his olfactory memory all the same.

Avery resisted the urge to jerk upright in his seat and fought to look casual as he peered around the rail car.

There, on the right, in the last row of seats, sat the guy he’d met at Intrepid. The one who’d clued him in to the sex trafficking ring, the one whose grainy picture he’d been obsessing over for months. How many times had Avery gone to the club hoping to find him or Troy again? Dozens. Only to run into him on a day when he wasn’t even trying. It figured. But he wouldn’t let this stroke of good fortune, or kismet, or whatever it was, pass him by.

Avery sent a quick text to Reid to tell him he’d caught a break in his case and would be in as soon as he could. Reid replied with an acknowledgment a minute later. While Avery’s phone was out, he pulled up the camera app, zoomed in close, and snapped a couple more pictures of the guy. They were mostly in profile but much clearer than the one he’d taken before.

When the guy got off a few stops later, Avery followed. He maintained a careful distance but didn’t stay so far back that he risked losing the guy among the other people who strolled the sidewalk.

After ten minutes, the guy went into a restaurant called Capri. Avery hastened his steps and entered in time to see the guy disappear into the kitchen. At just before lunch hour, only a few tables in the restaurant were occupied. The arches, stuccoed walls, and faux pillars brought to mind the Mediterranean. A mural of what Avery assumed was Capri, Italy, spanned the entire back wall—colorful villas nestled together on a mountainside overlooking the shore while boats dotted the turquoise water in the marina. Not a five-star establishment but tasteful and well decorated.

“Just one today?” the pretty girl at the hostess stand asked.

Avery nodded. “Can I sit at the bar?”

“Sure.”

She led the way and left him with a menu Avery set aside after a cursory glance. Was the guy a cook? Avery ordered a soda and waited, his eyes focused on the entrance to the kitchen. A few minutes later, the guy was back, a black apron strapped to his waist. Avery could see an order pad tucked into one of the pockets.

A server, then.

Avery paid his bar tab and walked over to the hostess stand. He gave the girl his most winning smile and threw some Southern charm into his voice. “I changed my mind, darlin’. Would it be possible to sit in his section?” He tipped his chin.

She followed his eyes to the server, who stood near one of the computer stations. “Joel? Oh, sure. Right this way.”

He followed her to one of the tables near the windows. This time, Avery took a few seconds to look at the selection on the menu. He should order some food as an excuse to stick around. Capri wasn’t the sort of place he could loiter without drawing attention. The fare on offer ranged from traditional antipasti to salads to pizza. He decided on a tomato, basil, and mozzarella sandwich just as a shadow fell over him.

“Hi, sir. Welcome to Capri. My name is Joel. I’ll be taking care of you today. Can I start you off with a drink?”

Avery looked up at him. For a few seconds, Joel’s expression displayed nothing more than polite interest. He had messy pale blond hair, brown eyes, and a boy-next-door face that wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. Except Avery recognized his scent and the scar on his chin. And if the widening of Joel’s eyes and flare of his nostrils were any indication, he’d finally remembered Avery.

“You.” Joel appeared about a second away from bolting.

Avery reached out to touch his wrist—not to grab, to reassure. “I’m not here to cause any trouble. I’m still looking into Lacey’s disappearance. I just want to ask you a few questions.”

Joel gave a firm shake of his head. “No. Not here. Besides, I don’t know anything more than what I told you that night.”

“I think you’re lying,” Avery said, making his voice gentle despite the blunt words. “If you won’t talk about it here, give me your number. Let’s meet up when you get off.”

Joel shook his head again. “No way, man.”

Avery tried to look imploring. “Lacey is
still
missing. If you know something that can help me find her, don’t you think you owe it to her to tell me? I’m working with a private detective now. We have a real shot at finding her, but we haven’t had any new leads. At least not any solid ones. The investigation stalled a few months ago.”

“Look, I can’t help you.”

Avery watched his face. “Do you know anything about that warehouse that got shut down in November?”

Joel blanched. “N-No. No, I don’t. Just go.” He took a step away from the table.

“Wait!” Avery called. Joel paused. “Take my number, then.” Avery withdrew one of Reid’s business cards from his wallet and quickly scrawled his details on the back: name, number, and e-mail address. “Call me anytime, day or night. And you can come to the office too, if you need to. The address on the front of the card.”

He held out the card to Joel, who for a moment looked like he might ignore it. Then, grudgingly, Joel took it from him. “Please go.”

Avery stood and threw a twenty on the table. “I’m going. Just… if you think of anything, call me. E-mail me. Whatever. Anything at all, even if you don’t think it would be helpful. I want to bring Lacey home to her father.”

A slight nod was Joel’s only reply.

Disappointed, Avery turned to leave.

“I’ll think about it,” Joel said from behind him. “But don’t come here again.”

“All right. Thanks.”

Avery left the restaurant without looking back. He wouldn’t harass Joel at his job if he didn’t have to. He’d give the guy some space. He didn’t want to risk Joel quitting and vanishing, not when he’d discovered a name and a workplace, which was the only new lead he’d uncovered in months. Of course, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t spy from afar. Whenever he could, he’d be back and he’d watch. And hopefully Joel would reach out to him soon.

BACK WHEN
Avery moved in, Dylan had foolishly thought he would see Avery more often. He never intended that to mean he’d be skulking after Avery through clubs and back alleys in search of leads or hunting witnesses or criminals for whichever case he was working—most likely Lacey’s.

As a rule of thumb, Northeast Portland could be seen as the… seedier side of their fair city. Dylan kind of liked it. Sometimes—like in his present situation—he found himself admiring the raw realness of the older homes and buildings. He strolled the sidewalk of Blandena until Avery took a left onto Albina Street. Avery had been walking, searching for… whatever. The thought of interrupting said search and taking his mate home had crossed his mind. Pissing Avery off wasn’t worth it.

Avery’s brother’s wedding was in April, just over a month away. It wasn’t like he had any desire to meet or otherwise impress Avery’s family. The point was he and Avery needed to get out of Portland, to spend some time together. Only, Dylan needed a way for Avery to believe it was his own decision, because forcing Avery into anything would cause the kind of problems Dylan didn’t need.

Lost in his thoughts, Dylan almost missed Avery ducking into an inconspicuous tattoo parlor. Atlantis Tattoo sat in the middle of a relatively quiet block. An unassuming building, the façade mimicked the old-timey look of a saloon with a neon red Tattoo sign flashing bright in its front window.

Dylan ducked into the shadows. Wolf hearing made it easy for Dylan to keep his distance and stay in range in case trouble arose.

“Yeah, sure,” a gruff voice answered whatever question. “I knew her. Lacey, right?”

Dylan inhaled deeply. While shifters had been around, at least one wolf and panther were within a couple of blocks, Dylan was certain the man in the tattoo parlor, as well as the three other people, was human.

“Yes,” Avery drawled, slipping into his Southern gentleman routine. “Lacey Acker. Wendy, down at Howl, tells me you and Lacey dated a while back.”

The gruff guy snorted. “Date is a relative term. We hooked up a coupla times. She’s a nice girl. Shame about what happened to her.”

The sound of Avery’s huff rang true and clear. His annoyance and irritation sang through their bond. “What do you know about… what happened to her?”

Silence held for long enough to have Dylan moving.

“Nothing, man,” Gruff Guy finally replied. “Just heard about it through the grapevine.”

When Dylan stopped in front of the window, he saw the guy. Big, burly, and tatted up. The guy looked like a walking advertisement for the shop. Not a bad-looking one at that. The bump in his nose said he’d been in enough fights to not care how his nose healed. The slant of his eyes was dangerous enough to have Dylan’s hackles rising. The man was human but his demeanor named him a threat to Dylan’s wolf. Dylan kept his eye on the man.

Avery seemed to have no such qualms as he leaned over the counter and smiled. Dylan made a note to speak with his mate about making himself a target. “Sure you did. What have you heard?”

Just then, a redheaded woman, inked nearly as much as the man, appeared from behind a curtain farther back. The pout on her full lips seemed out of place with her world-weary features. “Brucey,” she whined, batting stringy lashes his way, “you coming back tonight, honey, or do I need to make other arrangements?”

He winked at Avery then threw a look back at the woman. “Yeah, babe. Finishing up.” The man—Bruce—leaned across the counter, closer to Avery. “You got anything else you need to know? I really don’t know much.”

A growl built in Dylan’s chest and he reached for the door.

“Just one more thing,” Avery said, standing and backing away from Bruce. Avery was always a smart one. “When was the last time you saw Lacey?”

Bruce sighed with a grunt. “Man, I don’t know. It was months—two or three—before she went missing. Dude, I didn’t even know until one of the guys at the bar was talking about it.”

“Do you remember who told you?”

“Nah.” Bruce shook his head. “It’s been a while but I don’t go out too much as it is. Look, I really need to get back to work unless you want to volunteer as my canvas.” The man skimmed his eyes over Avery.

Dylan growled again. An ass-kicking was imminent for Bruce.

“No!” Avery yelled, then blushed. He cleared his throat. “No,” he said at a more normal level. “I-I’m good. And, well, my boyfriend. My big, strong boyfriend would kick your ass.”

Bruce laughed and held up his hands. “Don’t need any territorial boyfriends hunting me down. Sorry I can’t help.”

Sobered, Avery nodded. “Thanks anyway.”

When Avery left the parlor, he didn’t look to find Dylan, didn’t search to make sure he was following. The slump of his shoulders and disappointment echoing through their bond told Dylan that now was not the time to offer Avery a ride.

Cool rain sliced through the dark evening, pelting him as he hunched against the downpour and jogged to keep up with his mate. After following him to the closest MAX stop, Dylan made his way back to his bike.

He didn’t doubt Avery’s ability to handle himself. It was everyone else he didn’t trust. Especially the shady aspect of society Avery had been digging into. Dylan’s need to protect Avery always won over his basic need to sleep or relax. Avery wouldn’t accept help anyway. He seemed to prefer the public railway to be alone with what he felt were his failings. He had things to work out on his own that he’d usually discuss with Dylan when he was ready.

Knowing Avery would be a little while longer—the light rail’s limitations taken into account—Dylan took a quick shower and was in bed by the time he heard the front door open and shut.

Avery didn’t speak as he walked through the bedroom and headed to the bathroom. Dylan waited, lulled by the white noise of the shower and the quiet of the room.

When Avery shuffled sleepily back into the room, he was blessedly nude, and Dylan couldn’t help but admire those long limbs and his silky smooth skin.
Jesus.
Just the sight of the wings spanning across his chest had Dylan wanting to trace them with his tongue, to feel the way his mate shivered and moaned beneath him. But Avery’s pensive body language—tense shoulders, downcast gaze, shuffling feet—said he was clearly not up for a tumble. To be honest neither was Dylan.

“Find anything?” Dylan wanted to break the ever-increasing tension.

Avery shook his head. The guy he’d finally tracked down was a bust. Dylan had guessed that halfway through tracking them through the streets of Northeast Portland.

“Hmm.” Dylan mulled over what he needed to say, then whispered, “I think you need a break.”

The soft-spoken observation might as well have been a slap for how quickly Avery’s head snapped up. “What?”

Dylan sighed and sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist. “Come on, babe, is this really what you want? To run yourself into the ground worrying over this case?”

“Say what you mean, Dylan.” Previously tired eyes narrowed suspiciously at Dylan in annoyed fury.

“I have. You need a break. You’re working too hard. And I….” He cleared his throat, then continued in a quieter tone. “I miss you.”