Flyers Fuzzbutts and Fisticuffs Read online

  Cullen sagged against the counter, his belligerence leaving him abruptly. “I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Irina. With Flashpoint’s spies apparently everywhere, I couldn’t risk anyone hearing where Irina was heading to. And we don’t yet know that Humdrum’s death was anything to do with her hunters.”

  “Well, I guess they outsmarted you,” Ryder replied bitterly. “Because they sent a hit squad here at almost the exact moment Irina arrived here.”

  “I don’t know how they could have tracked her,” Cullen said wearily. “She’s too smart to not know about tracking devices. She invented some of them herself.”

  Ryder sat at the table, resting his head in his hands, and stared bleakly at Cullen. “How well do you know her?”

  Cullen joined him, sitting opposite, and began fiddling with a bowl of potpourri, lifting bits of the fragrant mess and turning them in his fingers. “She’s an old childhood friend. My mom and dad knew her parents. She was born here, and moved to Russia when her father got a job working as an engineer. She was only little, but we kept in touch. She was educated out there. When her parents died in a fire, she remained, and started working as an agent.”

  Louis poured coffee for three and sat beside Cullen, kissing his cheek. Cullen smiled back, snuggling into the big bear’s side, then yelped softly when Louis lifted him and deposited him on his lap, wrapping his brawny arms around and snuggling close. Cullen did love Louis’s need for cuddles. He felt his connection to the big guy strengthening, and knew he was already falling for his gorgeous bears. He felt safe and…loved, around them. His negative attitude toward being their mate, something he pretty much knew was inevitable, was melting in the scorching heat of their attention.

  Ryder eyed them balefully and drank his own coffee, sighing with relief as the hot brew went down his throat. “Thanks for this. I’ve been with Pace at the morgue, trying to help Lucy and Merry with forensics.”

  “Any idea about the killer?” Cullen asked, squeezing Louis’s hand.

  “Not yet, but as Lex said, early indications are that he died before his neck was broken. It may well be that he committed suicide, and the hunters who are after Irina used it as a way to deliver a message,” Ryder said, shaking his head. “We may never know. We’re checking CCTV, but it looks as though there was a blackout around town for a few seconds around the time of Humdrum’s death. We’re still working on it, searching all angles.”

  “Ryder, I don’t know any more about Irina’s situation than you do,” Cullen told his former boss after an awkward silence. “She asked me to help get her out of Russia. I did that. Arranged a helicopter to get her away, then she was on her own, essentially. Not because I didn’t want to help anymore, but she told me she had it covered.” He frowned thoughtfully. “It does seem a little coincidental that she turned up at the same time as Dorothy, though. Perhaps they know each other?”

  “They both have a connection to D’Arcy,” Ryder said, staring into his coffee. “They both have ‘disappeared’ potential funding for Fortress’s coffers. And isn’t it interesting that Alastair, formerly a friend of John’s, worked for another Russian oligarch, was imprisoned by the man’s son, and recently turned up in Sage…and also has a connection to D’Arcy and our Russian friends.” He looked up and met Cullen’s gaze. “This is all turning into one big pot of coincidence, isn’t it?”

  Cullen nodded slowly. “Does seem a little pat.”

  “You think they murdered Humdrum?” Louis asked, looking sad.

  “That’s the bit that doesn’t really fit,” Cullen replied, kissing his bear on the chin. “Why kill Humdrum? There was a note, but it doesn’t seem to tally with anything else. And Humdrum would have had to have been murdered before we knew about Irina. Surely Petrovsky isn’t that clever?”

  “We wondered if Alastair had more accomplices. The gang turned on him when he refused to comply with Petrovsky. Perhaps they were hedging their bets,” Cullen said.

  “I don’t buy it,” Louis commented, frowning. “Humdrum was killed approximately two hours before we knew about your friends, Cullen. Even after leaving the movie theater and going to the shop, it didn’t take us that long to get to our house. That gang would surely have tried to nab her before then, or at least were following her to the cinema. Which means Humdrum was killed much earlier. Why kill an innocent? They surely imagined that when they snatched her and Mika, that would be it. They’d have completed their job. It doesn’t make sense to kill someone when they didn’t need to.

  “Yeah, I can’t imagine someone of Alastair’s caliber making a crass call like that,” Ryder said.

  There was a knock at the door. Cullen glanced at Ryder, who shrugged, so the fox shifter got up to investigate.

  “Hi,” Pace said as Cullen opened the door. “Do you mind if I come in?”

  Behind him stood Skull, his deputy, and John Hastings. All three looked exhausted.

  “I’ll get more coffee,” Louis said, earning grateful smiles all ‘round. He kissed Cullen sweetly, which turned hot and intense in an instant, leaving them both breathing hard and staring at one another with a need that was tangible. Cullen hopped off Louis’s lap, needing space before they gave their visitors a show. He ignored the quick grins from his friends, fanning his cheeks as Louis went to get the coffee.

  “We need to discuss your friend Irina,” John said, when they were seated again. He stared at his hands, looking uncommonly agitated. “I may have connected a few dots.”

  “Where’s Alastair?” Ryder asked the big Brit, whose green eyes were showing an ice he usually reserved for the most evil of individuals.

  “Mick and Jay are watching him,” John replied, not looking up. “I fear I may be in some way responsible for what’s happened to Humdrum.”

  They looked at him in shock. What the fuck had happened?

  Chapter Six

  “Blue, over here,” Candy hissed, beckoning her friend over to where she sat. She kept a wary eye out for the teacher, Jayne, who could always be counted on to turn up at the wrong moment.

  “What?” Blue whispered, sitting close to her on the small bench seat, and opening his packed lunch. “Hmmm, Daddy Aiden gave me Oreos and peanut butter cups.”

  “Really?” Candy said, instantly distracted, eyeing the treats enviously. “I got an apple and string cheese.”

  “Ooh, string cheese? Daddy John made mini pizzas and apple turnovers. I got extra if anyone wants to do a swap?” Murray chimed in, heading over to the pair, looking around furtively. “Okay, Candy, what you got?”

  She leaned in close, so their three heads were almost touching. “Daddy Pace and Daddy Zack were discussing a case last night,” she said seriously. “Humdrum was murdered, and they’re trying to find the killer. They think it may be linked to some of the people who arrived in town recently.”

  “They think I had something to do with killing someone?” a British voice asked, sounding hurt.

  Instantly the trio of accomplices turned their heads to stare at their new friend, Arthur, and shook their heads in horror. “No, Arthur,” Candy said urgently, leaping to her feet and hugging the younger boy tightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that at all.”

  He looked relieved. “Then what’s going on?” he asked, joining them at the table.

  “Apparently, some other new people, who just arrived from Russia, were attacked at the cinema last night, right after we left. A gang came to take them back, and John and Ryder and Mick stopped them. Cullen and Louis and Doyle managed to get Irina and her son, Mika, away, and then they saw poor Humdrum hanging from a tree. Dead.”

  The boys looked repulsed. “I liked Humdrum,” Blue said sadly, his lower lip trembling. “He was kind.”

  “Yeah,” Murray agreed, hugging Blue for comfort. “Whoever did that is nasty, right?”

  “You said that your daddies think the killing was linked to newcomers in town? Did you mean the Russians?” Arthur wanted to know, slurping his juice.

 
“I heard Daddy Pace talk about someone called D’Arcy,” Candy replied, and Arthur flinched as though she’d struck him. “You know that name?”

  “He hurt me,” Arthur said somberly. “He’s a horrible man, and he hurt Mummy, too. He shot her, and she nearly died. He’s the reason we left England. If he’s involved, then no wonder that lady and her son came here for safety. D’Arcy is evil.”

  “There was another name mentioned. Petrovsky,” Candy added, taking a healthy bite of her chicken and mayo sandwich. “He sounds like a meanie, too.”

  “What are you hatching?” Candy shot the speaker a wary look. The girl, Honey, was Blue’s sister, but had a habit of telling tales and getting them into trouble. She always involved herself in their affairs and enjoyed the fun while it lasted, then ratted them out when things turned sour. She was a party pooper in the worst way.

  “None of your business,” Murray said, glaring at Honey. “Why don’t you go and find someone else to annoy?”

  “It’s a free country,” Honey retorted airily, flicking a lock of blonde hair, diva-style. “Besides, if you don’t tell me what you’re saying, I’ll just make something up. Then you’ll be in trouble, anyway.” She curled her lip, baring fangs. “So spill it, dweebs.”

  “You aren’t very nice,” Arthur told her, his blue eyes steady as he stared her down. “My mummy said that when you’re mean and nasty, it never ends well.”

  Honey sneered down her perfect nose. “Well, your mummy sounds like a dork,” she retorted, earning gasps of shock from around the table. “I bet she’s ugly, too. Only ugly people say stupid things like that. I heard she got shot, didn’t she? So she probably has ugly scars, now, too.”

  Arthur began to cry, shoving away from the table and leaving his lunch box there as he ran to the toilets, sobbing.

  “Honey, what the hell was that for?” Blue asked her incredulously. “You know what, I’m gonna ask Daddy Aiden if we can swap you for another sister. Someone who isn’t a mean little bitch. You’re the ugliest person I know.” He got up, shoving her aside, and ran after Arthur.

  Honey looked stricken as she stared after her brother, tears in her own eyes. “Well, I don’t need a family anyway,” she said, backing away. “I hate all of you stupid people.”

  “What’s going on?” Jayne asked, staring at the children. “Why is Arthur in tears?”

  “Honey said his mom was stupid and ugly and a dork,” Murray said, glaring at Honey. “She was trying to listen in on our conversation, and Arthur told her not to be mean when she said she’d make something up and tell you we said it.”

  “Honey!” Jayne said, folding her arms. “What’s going on with you lately? This isn’t like you at all. Why are you being mean to everyone?”

  “They were talking about a murder,” Honey said, pouting.

  Jayne shot her a look. “Is that an excuse to be mean?”

  “No, but they’re probably plotting to do something stupid, and then we all get into trouble,” Honey retorted pugnaciously. “They all think they’re Sherlock Holmes or something, and will want to get involved somehow.”

  “Honey that still isn’t a good enough reason to be nasty. Blue is your brother, and Arthur has had quite enough people being mean to him to last a lifetime. Why would you say such horrible things about his mother?”

  Honey refused to answer, and Jayne sighed heavily. “Fine,” she said. “Go and sit in the time-out corner, Miss Attitude. Move!”

  Honey looked as though she was about to give a smart-assed reply, then took a look at Jayne’s face and about-faced, marching to a corner of the room and facing the wall.

  “Murray, you can just wipe that smirk off your face, right now,” Jayne told the boy, arching a brow. “You three are getting into far too much trouble lately, and I can’t help but think that Honey might be right. When you get together, usually mayhem ensues.” She leaned toward the youngsters, pointing a finger and wagging it warningly. “I heard about the murder,” she said, sounding sad. “And it’s not for you to worry about. Why not think of ways to help Mystery get over his grief? Instead of trying to get into mischief, leave the detective work to the professionals. Your folks would feel really bad if you were to get hurt.”

  She turned around and went to deal with an argument that had broken out between two younger class members over a storybook.

  Candy looked at her friend and sighed. “So, we need to make sure that Miss Nosy over there doesn’t interfere,” she said, glaring over at where Honey stood. She lowered her voice. “We’ll meet later, at the treehouse.”

  Murray nodded, knocking knuckles. “Affirmative.”

  * * * *

  Honey listened to the muted conversation and sniffed. She didn’t need their friendship anyway. She had a new friend, who was cool and awesome, and did lots more exciting things. And he was coming to Sage, so she would just ignore those bozos and bide her time. When her Shifter Network friend, Stealth459, came to town, those morons would be left in her dust.

  * * * *

  Nikolai Petrovsky, aka the Shadow, typed quickly, smiling to himself as he contacted his liaison in Sage. The Shifter Network was proving to be a treasure indeed. His little group of spies were only too willing to give up information about their fellow residents, without knowing they were doing it. He loved the internet. Social media provided the perfect tool to get intel, without having to lift more than a finger or two.

  “I need a little favor, HoneyBee,” he typed. “My dad’s gonna flip if he finds out I’m coming to Sage. Could you fix me up with some digs? Quiet, like. Don’t need my folks getting all stressed, you know.”

  He sent the message, then picked up the phone. “Get the jet ready,” he said. “We have a meeting with Moriakovsky.”

  Almost as soon as he’d made the phone call, a reply came through from HoneyBee.

  “Of course I’ll help,” came the excited reply. These kids were so gullible. The added bonus was that HoneyBee was close friends with the daughter of a former enemy, John Hastings. Primrose. The fact that HoneyBee was aiding and abetting someone who would ultimately end up killing her friend’s father just added more spice to the brew he was cooking up. Before he did that, however, he needed to get Moriakovsky on his side. The little bastard was greedy, vengeful, and would be happy to find out that Arctic Wolf, someone who had turned Ralph Moriakovsky’s family against their youngest son and brother, had survived prison and was living in America.

  “There’s plenty of room at the ranch. Joe is building a town out there. I’ve seen it. Lots of new cottages are being built, and there’s always the Sports Hotel.” This caused Nikolai to smile again. “Perfect,” he muttered to himself. “I could check in right under their noses. I’m more than capable of finishing what Ghost started…with more success.”

  “Sir,” a voice said nervously. “We may have a problem, sir.”

  Nikolai glared at the speaker. “What problem?”

  “Er, we’ve had information that Ice is no longer in Sage,” the man said, gulping.

  Nikolai’s eyes narrowed, and he felt a twinge in his gut. Ice was a deadly foe and took stealth to new levels. John Hastings was someone to be afraid of, but Ice? The guy oozed danger through every pore.

  “Where is he?”

  “We have reason to believe he might be heading here.”

  Shit. “Then give him a proper reception when he arrives,” Nikolai retorted harshly. “I have business in Moscow.” He sent the messenger a hard look. “And make sure that our assets are protected—at all costs.”

  “Yes, sir, of course, sir.”

  Rising from his desk, Nikolai strode out of his office, heading to his private jet, tapping out a message as he went, letting Moriakovsky know where to find Arctic Wolf. He and Ice would meet again, he was sure. But for now, John Hastings was top on his calling card. The bastard needed to be dealt with. Him and his precious little family. An eye for an eye, and all that. Petrovsky had lost two cousins to Hastings. Now it was time to rep
ay the favor. By wiping out him out of existence.

  His people could take of Ice. He had other fish to fry.

  * * * *

  Two weeks later

  Doyle stared solemnly as he threw dirt into Humdrum’s grave, then stepped aside to let Louis follow suit. “You okay?” he asked, his arm around Louis’s waist.

  “I will be,” Louis replied, leaning into his lover. “This sucks. Humdrum should not be in there.”

  “No, he shouldn’t, and especially not this close to Christmas,” Doyle said grimly, eyeing Mystery, who was sobbing, propped up by his friends, Bone and Chill, with Noah and his two mates, Oliver and Shark, standing by. “And I’m still not buying the idea that he was killed by Flashpoint. I’m not into the suicide theory, either.”

  “What happened to the fight club?” Louis asked. “When we crashed their party, there were plenty of patrons who might hold a grudge.”

  “Or maybe he saw something that someone else wanted to keep quiet,” Cullen piped up quietly, walking toward them. “Let the sheriff figure this out. Thomas, Cody’s mate and a former Chicago PD detective, is helping on the case.”

  “Humdrum died, however it happened, and was then left out for all to see, naked and alone,” Louis said harshly, looking angry and frustrated. “He’d been through far too much already. This is just…sick.”

  “I agree,” Cullen replied, dragging his face down for a kiss. “But if you go off on a fool’s errand, without knowing all the facts, the wrong person could get hurt.”

  “I’m inclined to agree, Louis,” Doyle said, gripping his friend’s shoulder firmly. “You’re not the most rational when you lose your shit. Let the professionals take care of this one. Pace is good, and so is Thomas.”

  “I need to be away from here,” Louis said brokenly. “I need to run.” He shifted suddenly and left the cemetery at a dead run, heading across the road and into the wintry wilderness, disappearing from sight.