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Authors: Bailey Bradford

Timothy (4 page)

BOOK: Timothy
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Even so, he wasn’t a little guy by any means, taller than average and carrying his own fair share of muscle. Being different as a kid—looking different with his Mongolian-Irish-American heritage—had led to him being picked on by some of the more obnoxious kids. Sitting back and taking it had never been an option for him. Otto just wasn’t built to do anything other than defend himself and those he cared for.

“Am not.” Gansukh rolled his eyes up at the blue sky. “
I
am not. I am just very strong.”

“Can’t dispute that.” Otto nudged his friend in the ribs and Gansukh, big tough guy he was, squealed and danced away, looking for all of the world like a ginormous ballet dancer, without the gracefulness. Otto chuckled at the comparison as they made their way to the locker room of the small gym. “If I wanted to win easily, I’d just tickle you. You’d be screaming for mercy in no time at all.”

Gansukh switched from English to Khalkha as he protested his ticklishness, but Otto only had to poke him in the ribs to drive home his point.

“See? Good thing I’m an honourable man.”

“Yah, honourable, like me.” Gansukh popped him on the ass with a towel he’d grabbed from somewhere, Otto hadn’t been paying attention. If he had been, he’d have dodged the stinging snap.

“Hey!” Otto glared as he rubbed his butt. It was tempting to take Gansukh down and tickle him until he cried uncle, but he had other plans. Naran, one of the few people Otto trusted besides his family, had informed him of a potential poacher who’d professed to have snow leopard parts.

Just thinking about it made Otto sick and furious. He didn’t know what parts the man might have, but any was unacceptable. And if it hadn’t been strictly a snow leopard that had been killed?

Otto would deal with it—and the poacher, should Naran’s information be correct—when he found the man. He was a foreigner, according to what Naran had been told, and it made things difficult. Laws were different in Mongolia than in other countries, and he’d have to remember he couldn’t just mete out justice as he saw fit.

“You want to come over, watch some movies or something?”

Otto peered over his shoulder at Gansukh. Surely he didn’t mean… But one look and he knew, yes, Gansukh was indeed enquiring as to whether or not Otto wanted to fuck him again. There wasn’t anything other than a desire to get off in Gansukh’s expression, but Otto still didn’t think it was a good idea. He’d been clear the sex was a one-time only thing when he’d given in before, and besides, he hadn’t been able to get a certain gorgeous stranger out of his mind for days now. Otto was almost to the point of trying to hunt the blond haired man down, if he could just figure out how. One thing was certain, it would be shitty to use Gansukh as a substitute for the man Otto really desired.

Gansukh must have seen the answer in his eyes because the big man smiled. “I had to ask. It is hard to find someone like us here.”

“It is indeed.” Otto stripped quickly and stepped into a shower stall. He was aware of Gansukh taking the stall next to him, but didn’t feel like he was being watched. His concern about Gansukh possibly developing unwanted emotions for him ebbed some, and Otto waited until they finished showering and were dressed before making the offer he’d mulled over.

“If you can get your passport—if you don’t have one—and can pay for half your ticket, you’re welcome to come to the States with me in a few months.” He nudged Gansukh in the ribs just to watch him jump. “I can take you to some places there, some clubs especially, where you will have men fighting over you.”

Gansukh’s breath shortened and he nearly snapped his head off nodding eagerly. “Yah, I would like to go with you. But maybe I will not come back from the United States.” He grinned and Otto remembered why he had given in and let Gansukh talk him into having sex. The man was devastating when he smiled so openly, so easily. Otto wished he could feel something more for Gansukh but he didn’t. At thirty, he was beginning to think he simply wasn’t capable of loving someone like his parents loved each other.

And on that depressing thought, I’d better get going.
Yet he didn’t rush off. Seeing Gansukh so happy made Otto feel a tiny bit of that joy, too. “We’ll be going to New York for two weeks at least, but if you can take a month off, maybe we can visit San Francisco as well.”

Gansukh’s eyes lit up. “San Francisco,” he said reverently. “And the Castro District, too, yes? I have read about both. New York was where the Stonewall Riots occurred?”

“Yes, it was. I can show you where it all started. The first time I went there, I was covered in goose bumps thinking about what had occurred there in 1969.” Over forty years later, and equality still hadn’t been attained, but Otto had no doubt it would be, at least in the United States. Eventually. As for Mongolia, only time would tell.

Gansukh grabbed him for a quick hug. “Thank you. You are a good friend.”

“I’m also a friend who’d like to breathe,” Otto rasped. Gansukh let him go, holding Otto’s shoulder as he did so. “Thanks.” Otto patted Gansukh’s hand. “I’ll see you Tuesday for practice.”

Outside, the evening was chilly but not cold. Come winter it’d be ball-freezingly cold. Otto took off on foot as he preferred to do when possible. Naran had said she’d meet him around the back of her father Ahndamagh’s store and he had less than ten minutes to make it on time, which wouldn’t be a problem. He could walk there and back twice in that time.

Otto turned the corner and quickly walked the length of the building where he was to meet with Naran. Vukpuo, Ahndamagh’s store, was sort of a sell-all place, with everything from dry goods to tourist items like fake dinosaur bones and miniature figurines of Genghis Khan.

Occasionally, someone would approach him about selling items on the black market, such as snow leopard bones or pelts, skulls or teeth, even on one occasion, a cub. Naran’s father always told her, knowing she had a friend who investigated such things. Otto was grateful for Naran’s help as well as Ahndamagh’s.

Tonight she was already waiting when he arrived. Otto smelt her first, the familiar perfume Naran wore heavy on the breeze. The citrus scent always made his nose burn, so he tried to breathe through his mouth. As usual, it didn’t help much and his eyes began to water. Maybe he should buy her a different perfume, something without the thick odour of lemon in it.

“Otto.” Naran gestured him over, a worried expression pinching her features. Unlike Gansukh, Naran had no interest in learning English. She kept to her native tongue instead.

“Naran.” Otto didn’t say anything else as she told him what she’d heard about the man claiming to have snow leopard bones and pelts. She hadn’t seen him, neither had her father. Instead of coming into the shop himself, he’d sent around a local boy, Ochir, to enquire about the possibility of doing business with Naran’s father.

“The boy, Ochir, said the man was very pale, he thought, but it was hard to see him because he made Ochir keep his eyes down. When Ochir looked up the one time, the man hit him. Ochir had a dark bruise, my father said.” Naran scowled and fisted one of her hands against her chest. “If I find him, the man who hit Ochir, I will cut off his balls and make him eat them.”

Otto couldn’t help but wince, but he didn’t blame Naran. Anyone who would treat a child in such a way didn’t deserve to retain his manhood, or parts of it. And he knew Naran could be a vicious fighter. Otto wasn’t dumb enough to believe a small stature meant victim, by any means.

“The boy, Ochir, what does he look like?”

He listened as Naran described a boy much like many others Otto saw every day, except for a scar running from the outside of his left eyelid to his temple. Naran was obviously very fond of Ochir, although Otto didn’t ask why or how she knew him. Naran would tell him what she wanted him to know and his prying wouldn’t be welcomed at all.

“Any idea where this pale man might be?” Otto asked once Naran gave him a chance to speak.

Naran thought about it, humming off-key for several seconds. “I think maybe he’s not staying in the Dalanzadgad Hotel. Ochir wouldn’t have been anywhere near a fancy place like that, and while Dalanzadgad Hotel is nothing special to us, it’s a huge place full of rich people to Ochir. Perhaps somewhere past the apartments and houses to the tent areas? I don’t know. I plan to look for Ochir once we close the shop tonight.”

A fissure of unease slithered through Otto. He touched Naran’s shoulder, a brief contact before pulling his hand back. “Why don’t we go together? If the man who struck him is there, I don’t want you maiming him before I can question him.”

Naran nodded. “Fine. I have to finish stocking the shelves then I can go. Come inside, you can wait in papa’s office.”

Otto followed Naran inside. “Is your father here?”

“No. He left right before you got here. Go on and sit. Oh!” Naran stopped and spun around, a frown marring her brow. “Ochir said the man mentioned something about the snow leopards being special, not typical snow leopards. I don’t know if he was lying or what. We all grew up hearing tales of the mountain ghosts. Maybe those stories weren’t just legends.” Naran didn’t ask, she stated it, and pinned Otto with a look he’d have sworn penetrated into his soul.

Did she know, as he did, those mountain ghost tales were actually based on snow leopard shifters? Otto thought there must surely be some people who knew about the shifters, but maybe not. He’d yet to hear anyone outright say they believed in them.

“Who knows,” he settled for saying. Then he went into the office and sat down.

He knew, but it wasn’t his secret to tell.

 

 

Chapter Four

 

 

 

“Why are you acting so weird?” Dane asked once he pulled Tim into the hallway. “You remind me of… What’s the old saying? A nervous cat in a room full of set mousetraps! Terrified your tail’s going to get snapped off!”

Tim thought Dane had butchered the saying but was indeed too freaked out to say so.

“Is everything okay?” Lona asked, coming into the hallway. She peered at Tim and he cringed. Even without knowing the woman, he could tell Lona was getting a kick out of his struggle to hold his shit together.

“Yes,” Tim gritted out, trying not to glare at his hostess.

Lona was a snow leopard shifter. Tim knew it as soon as she opened the front door to greet them, the familiar scent of human and snow leopard assaulting his senses, just as they had in the vehicle on the drive over. Now he knew why he’d smelt it, although he thought there was a more masculine scent to it. And she knew he was one, too, and now, since she’d looked at Steve and said, “He is,” Tim knew Steve knew, too! 

He couldn’t say a word about it, though, because Dane was here, and Dane didn’t know anything about shifters. Tim loved the guy, trusted him, but with his own life only. This secret involved everyone in Tim’s family. He couldn’t confide in Dane. Why Lona seemed to find that humorous was beyond him.

“I was just checking.” Lona gestured towards them. “Usually our guests don’t huddle in the hallway.”

Dane, gods bless him, edged in front of Tim. “He’s exhausted, and worried about his ginormous family. Tim’s never been so far away from his siblings or his parents, and frankly, you keep eyeing him. It’s weird.”

Lona giggled, cupping a hand over her mouth until she stopped. “Oh my, Dane. Do you think I’ve got designs on your friend here? He must be around the same age as my son.”

Her son!
Tim could have slapped himself. Of course! Steve had a son, which explained the masculine shifter scent in Steve’s vehicle. Steve had said they had kids, Oscar—
oh fuck, not Oscar. One Oscar is enough. What was the son’s name?

“Otto,” Lona said, as if she could read Tim’s thoughts. Maybe she could, or maybe he just didn’t need to be so obvious. “And our daughter, Vendelia. Don’t tell me Steve hasn’t mentioned them yet?” Lona clucked her tongue. “Well, your fears are unfounded, Dane. I suspect even if they weren’t, and if I were several decades younger, neither you nor Tim would be interested in me.”

Dane didn’t seem appeased. Tim could feel the tension rolling off him even if he hadn’t seen the way Dane stiffened and pulled his shoulders back. “Okay, so you’re ogling Tim because you enjoy watching him sweat?”

Steve appeared beside his wife. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to figure out if your wife is deliberately freaking Tim out,” Dane snapped. Obviously he had taken Steve at his word and wasn’t concerned with who was the more experienced doctor or who was the boss. “Poor Tim’s been a nervous wreck since the moment we got here, and your wife’s been watching him like a cat eyeing a mouse!”

Tim’s choked exhale was muffled by Lona’s tinkling laughter. Steve sighed and draped an arm over his wife’s shoulders. “I’m sure Lona’s concerned about Tim. Our son Otto is a year or two older than Tim, and my wife still coddles him if she gets the chance. She’d probably do the same to you, Dane, if you weren’t glaring daggers.”

Dane harrumphed but Tim pressed a hand to his back in a silent plea to let it drop. He didn’t think Dane was going to until his friend’s shoulders drooped slightly and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think so,” he muttered so softly, Tim wouldn’t have heard it if not for his enhanced senses.

Which meant Lona most likely heard as well. A slight nod let him know she had indeed.

“Enough,” Tim mouthed at her.

“I do wish Otto was here tonight,” Lona said to Steve as they turned and headed for the kitchen. “I think one of those young men would keep him out of trouble.”

Dane pivoted and gaped at Tim. “That’s what she was doing? Vetting us to see if one of us was a good match for her son? Gack! Doesn’t she know she’s more likely to scare us off? The whole creepy, interfering mother-in-law vibe is just shooting off her.”

Tim agreed but didn’t say so, since he was well aware Lona could probably still hear them. “Come on, let’s go eat.” Hopefully dinner would be ready soon.

As if timed with his thoughts, the pungent odour of fried chicken filled the air. Even Dane could smell it, and he perked up, seeming to forget his pique. “Oh man, smell dinner cooking? I’m so going to pig out!” He hurried towards the kitchen, Tim grinning at his friend’s eagerness. “It smells delicious,” Dane announced as he walked over to the table. “What can we do to help get the food on the table quicker?”

BOOK: Timothy
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