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MM Shifter Thriller Broken Wolf

The work has been done and I'm proud to announce the publication of Broken Wolf, part two of my series about Trident Pack, a group of wolf shifters with an unusual dynamic. They are an international fix-it team - a bit like a paranormal Mission Impossible and James Bond combined, who work together using their special skills to help wherever they are hired.
Broken Wolf is available on pre-order for delivery February 1st.

Here's a little about Broken Wolf and the first two chapters. Enjoy.

Marco is a gay wolf shifter fighter with a secret which he has struggled with since a tragic car accident when he was a child. Pursuing his dark internet career as an illegal bare-fisted fighter he becomes involved with a gorgeous wolf shifter paramedic who is much more than he seems. Will Elan and Marco find true love after Elan reveals all? Can the wolf shifters of Trident Pack survive the undead entities who seek to exploit and enslave them?

Warning: This book is a HEA romance about paranormal male wolf shifters. It includes fated mates, graphic gay sex: male-male sexual acts, anal intercourse, oral sex, foul language and violence. The plot may cause your heart to pound with excitement and your hands to tremble.

Chapter One

Memories

The noises of excited spectators echoed down the corridor. They came to the fight for many reasons. The fighter knew why many craved this entertainment. Male spectators felt emboldened when they watched two men fight in a brutal bloody fashion. They loved the thrill of gambling on the outcome, reveled in the violence and the thrill of blood spilled. The fighter listened as he sat silently in the smoky room. A street fight was brutal, and the rules of fair fighting were rarely used, therefore it was dangerous and illegal. The promoters had devised ways of organizing these clandestine events on the dark net and bringing a well-heeled audience to watch the fight before the police got wind of what was going on.
Marco the Hammer sat on a hard wooden seat with his right elbow on the table. His trainer began to carefully wrap that important hand; there would be no gloves, just this bandage to stop the knuckles separating when heavier blows were struck. The trainer was talking quietly but the fighter was miles away. His mind was elsewhere, in another place in another time.

~~~

Marco woke up. He gasped, and cried out. No-one came. Everything hurts, even breathing. Where am I? Dad? Where’s dad? Moving even a little hurts, why can’t someone hear me? My right hand is burning, the car! I was in the car with dad, where’s dad? I wish my hand would stop burning. He tried to sit up and lay back after excruciating pain pounded his body. After resting a little Marco found he could move his left arm, so he felt around with his left hand and discovered that his chest was bandaged which must be why he couldn’t sit up and it hurt to breathe. Marco wheezed and licked his dry lips. Oh for a drink of water… The hospital ward was dark, a dim yellow light shone in the middle of the room. He could hear machines bleeping, voices echoed quiet laughter somewhere. Where am I? Where’s Dad?
Marco lifted his right arm it was heavily bandaged. He remembered what happened. It was raining, the truck was on the wrong side of the road. Flames sprang up all around him… My hand is gone! Marco screamed, this time two nurses came running.
“He’s awake.” The blonde nurse picked up Marco’s left wrist and began taking his pulse. The other nurse bent over the bed. He could smell her perfume, felt a soft touch on his forehead.
“Dad! Daad! Help me dad...” he coughed, his chest heaving painfully after the effort to scream.
“Marco, do you know where you are?”
“No, where’s my hand gone, I can’t move my fingers.”
“You are in hospital, but don’t worry you are safe now. You were in a car accident, your car caught fire. Do you remember?”
“Fire? Yes I remember a fire. Was my hand burnt off?”
“Your right hand was badly damaged. But you are going into theatre in the morning. You are a lucky boy, Marco. The surgeons are going to give you a new hand.”
“I don’t want a new hand; I want my old one back.” He moaned, his eyes wide with terror.
“I am going to give you something to help you sleep now Marco. Don’t worry we will look after you.” The nurse injected a liquid into the drip bag that fed steadily into Marco’s upper arm.
“Dad and I were going to the movies, it’s my birthday, I’m twelve now. Where’s Dad?” I can’t keep my eyes open, I feel tired.
“He’s gone to sleep again, thank goodness. He’s a tough wee soul, he’s had enough pain killers to knock out a much bigger kid.”
“I’m glad I don’t have to tell him about his father, at least his mother’s meant to be coming. The Doctor said she’s given consent from out of state for the prosthetic hand surgery to go ahead. Doctor Jacobs says he has to operate tomorrow or it’s never going to happen, isn’t science wonderful? Little Marco was so lucky to be near the Bell Tower Research Centre when the accident happened. It will be a world first, a hand transplant on a child so young. It’s so sad for the boy, but in reality the accident couldn’t have happened in a better place. ”
What will be a world first? I have a mother? Dad said she was dead, what’s happening? Where’s my Dad? I think I am dreaming, I must be dreaming, it’s just a bad dream, I’ll wake up soon.
When Marco did wake up there was a Doctor in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck. He smiled kindly as he leaned over the boy.
“Hello Marco, you have been asleep for a long time, how are you feeling?”
“Everything hurts, where’s my Dad?”
“Marco it is my sad duty to tell you that your father died in the car accident. Your mother is coming to see you, but she has been delayed. I’m sure she wanted to tell you about everything herself.”
“Dad’s really dead?” They are lying; Dad would never leave me alone.
“I’m afraid so, Marco, he died at the scene of the accident. I can get someone from the welfare to help; but - do you have any other close relatives like uncles or aunts? Grandparents perhaps?”
“No, me and Dad moved around a lot, Dad is a truck driver.”
“Who looks after you when your father is driving the truck?”
“No-one, I always used to go with him.”
“Oh? You don’t go to school?”
“No, not for a long time. I can read and write though, dad teaches me.”
“Marco, can we talk about your right hand for a moment?”
“Alright, what about it?”
“ Now you will get to see your new hand as I am going to put on a fresh bandage. We had to operate on you quickly, to replace your old hand which was too badly damaged for us to repair. So instead of no hand, you now have a special hand that you can train your brain to operate. Our hospital does research, we specialize in prosthetic limbs, like hands, feet and legs, those kinds of things.”
“When did I get my new hand?” The doctor smiled, as he started to undo Marco’s bandage.
“I performed the operation about a month ago Marco, maybe a little longer. We had to keep you asleep for most of that time. You needed absolute rest for your nerve endings to grow into place and connect to your new hand. I am nearly finished unwrapping your hand, it’s looking good so far. Wow that looks great, do you want to see?” Marco was pale and turned his face away,
“No! I want my own hand back. I don’t want a hook.”
“It’s not a hook Marco, it is real hand, a thumb and four fingers. We can even cover it with something that looks like real skin one day soon, after your wound heals fully.”
Marco lifted his right hand with difficulty. “It’s a robot hand. I can’t move it. It looks too big.”
“This hand is permanent, it has been connected to your real nerves by special connections. You have healed remarkably well Marco. I’m very pleased at your progress. Your new hand is made of titanium one of the lightest metals known to man and it is incredibly tough. The reason your hand is so big now is because, as you grow, your hand will end up the right size when you are a man. You will have this hand for the rest of your life.” Marco studied the shiny metal robot hand and hated it.
“It sucks.”
“Give it a try Marco. Your mom is coming tomorrow or the next day. She has been delayed, unfortunately. I am sure she would have got here sooner if she could.”
“I don’t have a mother! Why don’t you listen? Dad told me mom died when I was a baby.”
“Alright, we can talk about you having a mother some other time. Tell you what, Marco, if you try moving your hand I will arrange for you to see where your father is at rest. I think you need to say goodbye to him.”
“Is he really dead?”
“I’m afraid so. I’m telling the truth, I swear it.” Marco frowned, concentrating.
“I can move my thumb a little.”
“That’s fantastic Marco, what about your other fingers? … Not too bad, yes! Not as good as your thumb but at least they all move a little. With practice you will soon be picking things up, maybe even throwing a baseball.”
“I hate baseball.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m too small, too small for baseball, football, just too small for everything. Will I grow bigger one day?”
“You will grow Marco; some boys are just slow growers when they are young. The good news is that you are going to make a full recovery and, with lots of training, you will be able to do anything you like with your life.”
“Can I see my Dad tomorrow?”
“Sure, I will arrange someone from welfare to take you.”
The next day Marco met the lady from the welfare.  She brought him some clothes. She’s old; I bet she will drive like an old lady as well, slow like an old woman, Dad used to say.
It was raining; Marco looked out the window on the way to the cemetery. The old lady spoke from time to time but Marco didn’t answer as he was lost in thought. He wanted to cry but his tears refused to come, he simply felt empty. They stood under an umbrella, the raindrops dripping down the plastic sides onto the grass. There was a wooden cross with a brass plaque. The plaque read
William Brannon
40 years
Loved father of Marco

It’s just a bit of wood, I bet dad’s not inside the hole. I bet he escaped the crash and he’s in the woods somewhere waiting until he heals himself. They just want to experiment on me - then turn me into a cyborg. First my hands then they’ll give me robot legs. When I get strong I’ll run away and find you Dad.
Doris put her hand gently on Marco’s shoulder.
“Look the rain has stopped and the sun’s out. Why don’t you stay with your father for a while? You can talk to him you know, it’s alright. I’ll wait in the car, take your time.”
Marco watched Doris walk back to the car. He waited until she was out of sight then he hit the wooden cross as hard as he could with his new metal fist.
“I’ll find you Dad; I’ll find you even if I have to search the whole world.” Marco punched and hit the wooden cross until it was smashed, the plaque twisted almost beyond repair. Marco ran back to Doris’s old battered Chevy. He opened the door, breathless. “I want to go back to the hospital now.”
“Of course, but - your knees are dirty and your wound is bleeding, what happened?”
“I fell over.” Marco looked out the window and something inside him growled. It was a silent growl but definitely a growl. That’s my bravery, I wonder if I should tell the doctor that I can make a fist now?”
Six weeks passed and Marco made excellent progress, his physiotherapist Sally kept telling him his progress was superb, fantastic even. What Marco never told her was that his new hand was as easy to use as his real hand. He made a game of pretending his hand was improving very slowly and he would tentatively grip objects and even write with a pencil although the letters were wonky. In private he could throw the practice ball and catch it every time, he could do anything with his new hand. But when Sally tested him he made sure that he dropped the balls and often forgot to tell his fingers to open.
Marco was hanging out tossing a basketball through the hoop when six doctors in white coats walked into the gymnasium. He noticed some of them were much older than Marco’s regular doctor, Doctor Sam. I bet they are here to check me out for new robot legs.
“Hello Marco, I’ve been hearing wonderful news about you from Sally. You are catching the ball nearly every time now. Would you like to show these other doctors how good you are at catching?” Dr Sam walked quickly over to Marco.
“Sure, where’s Sally?”
“She’s busy, I’ll throw the ball,” Doctor Sam picked up the basketball, backed up a few steps then dribbled the ball to his patient. Marco held up his hands, the right closed in a fist and the ball bounced off.
“Sorry Doctor Sam, but my brain didn’t connect, shall I try again?”
“No, it’s alright.” Doctor Sam took Marco’s arm and prodded around the wrist area where the skin had grown over the special connecting fixture. I’ll move my fingers a little bit so Doctor Sam doesn’t feel like a failure.
“Is your brain connecting now Marco? Your fingers seem to be moving well.”
“Yes, I told my hand I was very cross at it and to work properly and it did.” Marco smiled.
“Good work Sam,” said one of the other doctors, his hair was snow white and he had thick black rimmed glasses. The little finger on that doctor’s left hand was missing. When he felt around Marco’s wound he was rough and his examination hurt. There was a lot of prodding and pushing by the other doctors as they studied what Doctor Sam had done to connect Marco’s nervous system to the metal hand. The young boy stayed brave. I’ll show them my lone wolf bravery - like dad taught me. He was my Alpha wolf dad, he said.
At the end of the examination session Marco didn’t notice Doctor Sam pick up a baseball. As the group of Doctors began to walk away after the examination deep in animated conversation Doctor Sam spun around and threw the baseball at Marco. Then the entire group turned, laughed and smiled, several patted Doctor Sam on the back. Marco looked up; he had caught the ball above his head with his new hand.
“That was a lucky catch Doctor Sam, I usually miss those.”
“I know, maybe you should tell your new hand off more often Marco.”
The next day Sally resumed Marco’s hand co-ordination exercises in the rehabilitation gymnasium. Sally seems grumpy this morning. I’ll try harder and make her happy again. I’ll catch five in a row, even the hard ones.
“Marco, can you tell me why sometimes you drop the ball and sometimes you don’t?”
“Sometimes I get a bad connection, Sally. I don’t think I’m ready for any new legs yet.”
“What do you mean, new legs? Your legs are perfectly healthy, you are nearly ready to be discharged.”
“You mean leave the hospital?”
“Yes, can we be really honest with each other Marco?”
“Alright Sally.”
“See up there on the wall, over there and then over there, those are cameras, they film everything you do. I’ve watched you run around bouncing the ball off the walls, shooting baskets, and you never miss. So why do you miss the ball with me? And why do you think the doctors want to cut your legs off?”
“Why else would the doctors keep me here away from Dad?”
Sally laughed and hugged him. “You silly boy, the doctors want to help you get better. Your hand was horribly burned in the accident and could not be saved. There’s nothing wrong with your legs and – you know what? Your new hand looks cool.”
“Really? Do you think so?”
“Yes, it’s a wonderful hand and you are a wonderful boy. Now let’s not play any more games shall we? As soon as you pass all the tests you can go home.”
“I don’t have a home, just a trailer.”
“Do you remember Doris from the welfare?”
“Yes, she’s nice, but she’s very old.”
“Well actually she isn’t that old. She wants to look after you, would you like that?”
“I suppose so. I don’t want to live on my own. Why didn’t my mother ever come to see me?”
“She has been delayed, it’s a little complicated. Doris knows all about it, why don’t you ask her?”
“Doris hasn’t visited me for days.”
“I’m sure she has a good reason. Now let’s do some catching and this time I want you to really show me your best - ok?”
“Alright, I can throw quite hard now, I’ve been practicing.”
The night before he was to be discharged Marco slipped from his bed. He had checked, there were no cameras in his ward. He slunk out the emergency door while the night nurse watched her favorite program on television. Tonight his inner wolf wanted to run outside. It never spoke to him but he knew what his wolf wanted, freedom. Marco ran around in the hospital grounds sprinting in and out of a copse of huge old oak trees which were sprouting new spring leaves. Everything smelt fresh and new, of freshly mowed grass and hyacinths, lilac and roses.
A rabbit broke ground just two yards in front of him. Immediately he chased the rabbit, pounced on it and tore it’s throat out with his fangs. The blood tasted delicious and then he realised what he had done. In horror Marco dropped the rabbit onto the grass. He ran to the hospital door to get out of the garden but before he could open the door in the glass he saw a wolf, a young grey wolf shying away from the door with anxious golden eyes. Not an imaginary wolf but a real one. He spun around but there was no wolf beside him, and where was he? O my God, I’m the wolf. What do I do now? I want to be Marco again; I don’t want to be a wolf anymore. He instinctively squeezed his eyes together and wished with all his heart.
When Marco opened his eyes he was in human form again, the reflection in the glass door was reflecting the boy he recognised as himself. Just to make sure he touched his face, he waggled his feet and then he inspected his hands. Incredible! His metal hand was gone, it looked just like his old hand had grown back. He re-examined his right hand but it was still a lot bigger than his other hand. When he hit the brick wall his fist didn’t make the same sound as his left hand.
It didn’t hurt either. The skin magically grew back over my robot hand when I changed back from a wolf. It’s amazing! Uh - No it’s awful. The realization transfixed him with horror. Sally will call the Doctors back, they will definitely want to cut my hand open if they see this. I don’t know what to do next. If they cut me open will they find my wolf? I wish Dad was here.

Chapter Two

A New Home

Doris opened the passenger door of her old white Chevy sedan for Marco. Sally waved to him from the parking lot as Doris started the car. Marco waved back with his left hand as he kept his right hand tucked in his jacket pocket.
I’ve done it; no-one noticed my robot hand is covered with skin. Telling Sally I wanted to wear a glove over it for a while worked. No way they will cut off my legs now.
“Well young man, are you ready for your new life?” Doris smiled. Marco was warming to Doris, she seemed so reliable and she wanted to help him start over. He was even coming to terms with his father’s death. I shouldn’t have smashed the cross, sorry Dad; I know you are gone and I will miss you forever.
“Yes Doris I’m ready.” He gave her a happy smile and was even happier when she put some miles between them and the hospital. After an hour driving, Doris stopped outside a roadside burger restaurant.
“You can have anything you like dear boy, I think you really must be sick of the hospital food.”
“Really? Anything at all?” Marco opened the door and ran to the entrance. The young lady behind the counter smiled.
“How can I help you?”
“I’ll have a cheeseburger, fries and a large Coke. Um - can I have two cheeseburgers?”
“Of course you can.” The lady entered Marco’s order into her machine.
“I'm paying.” Doris took out her credit card “I’ll have a coffee, black, no sugar thank you.”
Doris sipped her coffee watching her young charge wolf down both cheeseburgers before eating his fries. He sucked on the straw of his coke until it gurgled and spluttered. Marco didn’t smile until he finished with a big sigh of satisfaction.
“There, I can tell you have been looking forward to a special treat.” Doris smiled and put down her coffee cup. After a short silence she spoke again. “Marco, you probably have been wondering why your mother never came to see you?”
“I didn’t even know I had a mother, so not really.”
“Actually you do have a mother and the real reason she couldn’t come to see you is because she is in prison.”
“What did she do?”
“She was involved in selling drugs, and she couldn’t get permission from the jail authorities to visit you. She didn’t want you to know she’s in prison but I think it’s your right to know the truth now. The Doctors didn’t want you to be upset; they thought it might affect your healing process. How do you feel now I have told you the truth?”
“Could I have just one more Cheeseburger, please Doris?” That was the last time Doris mentioned Marco’s mother.
~~~
When he was eighteen Marco attended Doris’s funeral as her son. She was a practical woman, not disposed to give out hugs unless they were deserved. She had few friends and her funeral was simple with not more than two dozen mourners. Marco did the right thing, shook hands, gave hugs and received them; arranged coffee and refreshments back at Doris’s house. He had matured a lot living with Doris. Her pragmatic approach to money and life in general had helped an angry, scared twelve year old turn into a pretty well-adjusted teenager.
Finally, about 9 pm, he found himself alone looking through her few private possessions. He remembered how she handled his being bullied when he was in his first year of junior high.
Of course his large hand was a problem to explain and Doris covered all the issues for her orphan waif by telling the teachers his over-sized hand was natural and was caused by a growth hormone problem. No one ever suspected that beneath the skin Marco had a powerful prosthetic hand made of high tech titanium components. The large size of his hand was exaggerated because of his slight stature. He grew like any boy, but he was athletic and wiry and his strange looking adult right hand marked him out for special treatment from bullies.
Josh Saunders was bigger than Marco and he knew it. He constantly taunted the younger boy about his oversized hand. Marco had to endure being called a freak, monkey hand, sausage fingers, names that hurt him in front of his fellow students. When he came home with a black eye and a split lip Doris did not panic, she wiped away the blood and put a cold compress on his eye. After he had told her what had happened she gave him a simple piece of advice.
“Marco, does your lip hurt and your eye hurt?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Imagine if every time Josh hit you and hurt you, you gave him a black eye and a split lip. How long do you think he would want to keep hitting you?”
“You want me to hit him back? He’s a lot bigger than me.”
“But his eyes are the same size and so are his lips and his nose for that matter. Marco, sometimes in life there is a time for talking and a time for action. Next time you come home with a split lip or a black eye, make sure the boy who bullied you has one too.”
Marco didn’t have long to wait before he heeded Doris’s advice. Two days later after school Josh was standing on the sidewalk with his friends Wayne and Ray.
“Hello sausage hand, running home to mommy?” Josh grinned, he was a vile shit and he knew he made Marco’s blood boil. But he was big, six inches taller and 30 pounds heavier than Marco. So Marco did his usual thing and crossed over to the other side of the street, Josh did likewise. The bully took hold of Marco’s school bag and wrenched it from his grasp.
“That’s mine! Give it back.” Marco yelled.
“Shut up you deformed freak.” Josh opened the bag and spun around laughing as his action flung Marco’s school things and homework out onto the wet ground. He shoved Marco in the chest so hard he fell onto his back in the mud. When Marco tried to get up Josh pushed him down and sat on his chest. Marco could hardly breathe and Josh was just getting started. He gazed down at Marco and grinned, he had the power and he knew it.
“You are nothing but a mommy’s boy - but we all know your mommy isn’t your real mommy. She’s just a dried up old spinster lady who wanted a kid so bad she adopted a freak.”
That’s when Marco had a life changing moment - all his pent up anger and frustration exploded. He clenched his freak hand into a fist, swung it around in an arc and hit Josh straight in the temple. To Marco’s amazement Josh’s eyes rolled backwards into his head and he fell onto the sidewalk hitting his head hard on the cement. He didn’t even groan or cry out. Josh the bully just lay there his eyes rolled back into his head. It was scary seeing the whites of his eyes and his big body just lying there.
“You’ve killed Josh!” screamed Ray. Marco pushed the limp body of his enemy off him, and quietly began to pick up his scattered things and stuff them back into his bag. Wayne and Ray began to move to attack him together when Marco realized, I have the power now, I’m in charge, I’m gonna use my power. He stood up straight and threatened them with his great fist.
“You’ll get the same punishment if you jerks touch me.” Ray and Wayne grew wings on their feet and ran away to their mommies. Josh started to moan and tried to get up. Marco ran home to tell Doris how successful her strategy was. Unfortunately his adopted mom’s advice wasn’t quite as successful as she hoped. Marco was suspended from school for three weeks and Josh was suspended for two. That was his first fight and he loved it.
~~~

“Marco! listen up man,” demanded Reggie Dixon. Marco’s fight trainer brought him back from the past. “Where you been, huh? You’ve been miles away.”
“I’m sorry Reggie, I was thinking about something that happened a long time ago when I was a kid. Hit me again I’m all ears this time.” Reggie rubbed the grey stubble on his chin.
“Right, this is a real money fight tonight Marco. There's a bookie out there and he’s made Marco the Hammer the hot favorite. But, a big but, I’m sure there’s some skullduggery going on somewhere. Shit man, you are undefeated in fifteen fights but you’re paying two dollars twenty to win. Those odds are way over the top. Slamming Sam ain’t that bad. He’s 18 and 1 and he’s fought some tough guys, harder and higher ranked fighters than you’ve fought. If anything he should be the favorite.” Marco frowned and flexed his hands inside the bandages.
“Speaking of Sam, why isn’t he here yet? There isn’t anyone next door. I would have heard something if they had arrived.” There was a knock on the door.
“Come in, it ain’t locked,” said Reggie.
A tall angular man in his sixties with a smooth forehead, tight eyelids and hair implants walked in. His beautiful double breasted suit was out of place in the cinder block warehouse. His eyes were the palest blue and cold as a dead fish. I wonder if he is wearing coloured contact lenses? This guy is a walking advertisement for cosmetic surgery. Marco ignored the visitor; he stood and started shadow boxing to loosen up. Reggie did the talking for him, that’s what Reggie was for.
“Sorry to intrude gentlemen, my name’s Wade Cousins. I represent the fight promoter. Unfortunately your opponent met with a training accident this morning. We have been rushing to find a replacement all day.”
“Fuck, my fighter ain’t getting in the ring with just anyone.” Reggie spat into a spittoon bowl beside the table. “What weight division is he, how many fights he had?”
“Reggie my man, can I call you Reggie? We know this is bad news but while there was hope your opponent could be ready for this fight, we didn’t want to trouble you.”
Old tight skin just oozes charm, looks like he has done this kinda dealing before. Marco felt his wolf snarl, wolf didn’t like Cousins either.
“What the fuck’s wrong with the dude?” Reggie was getting stroppy, he stood up. “We came up here on short notice to fight Slamming Sam, we got expenses you know. Marco is trying to make a living here.”
“Of course Reggie, of course. That’s why we have moved heaven and earth to get Marco the Hammer a new opponent.” Cousins replied smoothly.
“Who’s this guy and what’s his weight division?” Reggie snapped, “This is bullshit you know, so fuckin unprofessional.”
“He’s a super middleweight but he hasn’t had a fight for a while. Your guy should take him - easy.”
“What’s his name? How many fights he had?” Reggie picked up a training pad in his right hand and smashed his left fist into it.
“He’s fighting out of Detroit now, just so happens that Mr Jackson knew he was available and talked him into the fight. You should be grateful our promoter didn’t cancel the fight.”
“Sounds like a setup to me. There’s thousands of fans that would have to be informed it wasn’t happening. There’s too much cash at stake to can this fight.” Reggie looked over at Marco. Marco shrugged his shoulders and kept on shadow boxing.
“Reggie my man, we expect two thousand punters tonight. There’s a lot of money being bet on your boy out there and on the internet as well. Your man has to fight; some of the punters are well connected. This could affect your fighter’s chances of being offered the more lucrative money fights if he backs out now.”
“Are you threatening my fighter, Cousins?” Reggie balled both fists. The old fighter looked like he was about to come out swinging.
“No, no, of course not.” Cousins backpedaled. “Let’s keep calm here Reggie, I'm a facilitator, not a fighter, I do deals.”
“I’ll fight him, just double my fight fee.” Cousins and Reggie looked at Marco who continued shadow boxing.
“Now that’s more like it, your fighter’s got a good attitude.” Cousins smiled smugly but his tight face muscles turned the smile into a grimace. “How about another thousand bucks? So you will get three big ones for tonight’s fight?”
“Make it four thousand, double his fee, like Marco wants,” said Reggie.
“This isn’t Las Vegas, Reggie my man. Let’s split the difference - say fifteen hundred extra and I’ll pay you three and a half big ones now.” Reggie looked at Marco, the fighter nodded.
“Pay me in full. Cash, no checks.” Reggie put his hand out and beckoned with it.
Cousins pulled out a thick wad of greenbacks from his jacket. He counted off three thousand five hundred in one hundred dollar bills. The wad he put back into his jacket didn’t seem to shrink much. Reggie counted the money and put it in his own wallet. Cousins smiled the skull smile again and left without a word leaving the door to the training room wide open.
“Fucken asshole! Did you see that pile of hundreds? I should have said five thousand.” Reggie angrily slipped his hands into the practice pads. “C’mon Marco at least we been paid. Ok, now concentrate, jab, straight right, double jab, left hook, triple the jab. Yeah that’s it, pretend it’s Cousins’ face you’re fuckin' up.”
Both men concentrated on the warm up as footsteps echoed down the corridor and a door nearby was opened and shut quickly. Reggie stopped. “Hell, you hear that Marco? They were just waiting outside a little ways, we have been suckered. As soon as you are warmed up I'm gonna take a look at your opponent.” Reggie slammed their own door shut.
Marco the Hammer didn’t answer; he could smell something, a smell that he hadn’t smelled for years. Someone who just walked past his training room door seconds ago was a shifter.

Order your copy of Broken Wolf here

Alpine Wolf cover reveal

I'm excited to announce that my new novel Alpine Wolf is nearing completion - and tada! here's the cover for Alpine Wolf, I love this shifter look with the beautiful male muscles just waiting for the right mate to happen along. What do you think of the delicious man on this cover?
Wolf shifter Wes found his true mate in Colorado years ago while working for the state police, but circumstances and work split the two young lovers apart before they could consummate their love and become true mates. Now, five years later Wes works for Trident Pack and to fulfill his current investigation he is again stationed in the small Colorado town of Estes Park and all his old pleasurable but sensual memories are triggered. Will Wes find his one and only true mate again? I think there's some plot twists you won't guess at in this passionate MM romance.

Alpine Wolf Part 3 of Trident Pack Series

Wes appears in Lone Wolf, but we never find out much about him. This sensual novella Alpine Wolf introduces Wes and his long ago almost-love affair with a hot babe Marine Corps shifter. 
Alpine Wolf will have you panting to know more about the hot wolf shifters who are a part of Trident Pack, who have unique members who work for hire worldwide. What do they do? Keep reading to find out more. 
To whet your appetite here are the first two chapters of Alpine Wolf, enjoy!

Any comments or questions please contact me, Christina on my FB page or at ckraine69 at gmail.com

Alpine Wolf

by C K Raine

'There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable.'

C S Lewis.

Chapter One

Memories

Wes Cameron braked his soft-tail Harley to a halt. His black and silver leather lace up riding boots clunked to the gravel of the narrow road and he relaxed with a sigh which steamed up his helmet. Before him rose the snow clad Rocky Mountains in all their majesty. Clouds hovered over the peaks allowing shafts of glorious afternoon sunlight to stream in bars of light spotlighting the land before him in moving patches of brilliance. Emotion flooded Wes as he thought of Kieran. He’d known when he came back to Colorado that the memories would flood back. Wes thought he was prepared for those thoughts, for the effect that being back in these mountains would have on him, but he wasn’t.

So long ago he’d been posted here, just as he was today. Back then he had been investigating a local petty criminal who had ripped off the wrong people and there was a considerable danger of those people starting a gun battle with the criminal as the target. However this criminal was actually a useful police informant and Wes was tasked with finding the man and spiriting him out of harm’s way. It hadn’t been that simple.

This hunt Rane had sent him on, seeking another missing person wasn’t going to be a walk-over either. Trident Pack got the best pay for the hardest jobs. Wes sighed as he thought about his pack and his continuing single un-mated status. What was it about Estes Park that people went missing here? Especially important people for Wes, like Kieran. Maybe Rane had remembered Wes’ disastrous experience with Kieran here in the Rocky mountains and thought he’d fix it up by sending Wes back. Rane had a long memory, his Weirdling wolf shifter side was more like an elephant than a wolf. You bastard Rane! Wes muttered, frowning. He stretched his arms up and swung them around, it had been a long ride. Then he leaned forward on the bike and his leathers creaked, the way well oiled leathers should creak. He lowered the kick stand, stood up, stepped off the bike and stretched completely. A grin spread across his face. It wasn’t that long since he’d been in Estes Park, only five years ago. He lifted his helmet off and shook out tousled black curls. The cold clear air felt so very good on his skin. It was good to be back in the mountains, there were possibilities in mountains that the flat lands did not have.

Breathing deeply he stretched again and as his arms lifted up to the clouds he felt the beautiful lips of that amazing young man brush his lips and he started, as if prodded. Tears started into his eyes, it was so hurtful how fate had worked to keep them apart. No matter how he had struggled to be close to Kieran, something had always kept them apart. He swore under his breath and a frown creased his brow. How had it all happened again? He relaxed and let his mind recall the events from five years ago, the events which he hadn’t jotted in his notebook.

He’d driven into Estes Park in an unmarked SUV, found a motel room and headed to the local saloon for dinner, a drink and to begin his inquiries. He felt confident, his law enforcement superiors sent Wes on jobs which required quiet investigation because his interests in bodybuilding, trail walking and bar room drinking meant he was well able to talk to anyone and have a topic to talk about. Not to mention that the young man gave out a friendly air which people found attractive.

He was tall, muscular and strong. Very masculine in the exact way that made women want him, with tight abs, full rounded butt cheeks and wide sensitive hands. His blue eyes fascinated women, they thought they could tell what he was thinking and they thought it was about them. They were wrong.

So women made cow eyes at him and answered his questions with husky voices, with their bodies undulating a little. Wes could get any answer he wanted from many women. This made him useful to his superiors.  Wes was a courteous southern gentleman, when he noticed a lady he lifted his hat, smiled politely and walked on. He wasn’t the kind of man they would imagine loved other men.

Chapter Two

First Kiss

Wes

I was 25 and Kieran was… he was 20, I’m sure he was 20. I was out hunting for our informant in the bars and not having any luck. Maybe the little asshole had split town already and my time was being wasted. But then it  wasn’t wasted because…

It was in Lonigan’s Saloon that their eyes met, Wes’s blue and Kieran’s grey. It was lightning striking across the crowded bar and they knew it, felt it, life changed at that bolt from the blue but they kept their surprise hidden. It wouldn’t do to show that love has quit shooting arrows to the heart, he now shoots hot lead bullets direct eye to eye, changing the brain as if with a major electric shock.

“Yeah, I’m looking for this guy. Monty Zalingo he called himself, I heard he had a cabin up the river.” The cute young bar tender shook his head.

“I’ve worked here the last five years,” he drawled, “ain’t seen that feller before. Sorry I cain’t help you more, officer.”

Wes worked his way across the room full of drunken tourists, forest rangers and citizens. Asking each person if they had seen Zalingo. No one knew the guy. Wes felt good despite his lack of success in getting a definite lead on Zalingo. His real attention was on the gorgeous young hunk in military style camo fatigues who stood alone relaxing over a beer near the opposite wall, his crew cut blonde hair the kind of military look which made Wes’s knees weak.

Kieran

Here he comes, Mr gorgeous-right-for-me hunk in his hat, boots and police handcuffs. It was amazing that lightning thing that just happened between us - from his eyes to mine. I swear my heart is hammering so hard I’m gonna have a heart attack like dad did. Take a breath Kieran, remember the Alpha’s instructions: keep calm, don’t bite, don’t shift in front of the public. And… he said my mate would someday come along? Gawd, I wish it was this guy…

Wes settled on a bar leaner close to his target, but outside of Kieran’s intimate space and ordered the same beer Kieran was drinking. He had to control the trembling of his hands so he took several gulps before he said

“It’s good beer. Is it a local brewery?”

“Yeah, I work there when I’m on leave.”

“Are you on leave now?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a few weeks until they recall me. Unless some kind of action calls sooner, of course.” Kieran glanced at the handsome stranger. “I haven’t seen you around town before.”

“No you haven’t,” Wes grinned, his perfect white teeth seducing Kieran, as much as Kieran’s shy grin revealing a broken tooth earned in a training fight charmed Wes. “I’m from the State Police, checking out a local issue. It’s really not a big deal, so I can relax, check out the local talent.”

“Talent?”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of talent in this town. From where I’m standing it looks real good.” Wes’s lustful drawl accompanied by a long pointed look from his deep blue eyes caused goose bumps to zip out on Kieran’s skin and he almost blushed.

“I don’t usually feel like I’m talented, mostly I ain’t,” mumbled Kieran. Oh God! Dad said I was a faggot and I am, I’m blushing like a girl when this guy looks at me. But - is this macho muscle cop gay? He can’t be!

“Would you like a chance to prove you are exceptionally talented?” Wes’s eyes bored into Kieran’s until the younger man looked down, a soft blush on his cheeks.

“I - I ain’t never been with a man before.” He whispered. Only another shifter could hear his whisper and Wes did hear it.

“I would be honoured if I might be your first.” He murmured very quietly, extending his hand, looking Kieran in the eyes. “Wes Cameron.” Kieran took the proffered hand in his large, muscular but long fingered sensitive hand.

“Kieran Tremaine.”

“Let’s get to know each other and see where the journey takes us Kieran.” Dang! I feel like this young man could be my mate. My hand is tingling like crazy, he smells wonderful. Could he be? Surely not. Don’t we wolf shifters have to wait for years and years - sometimes even a century to find our forever mates?

“Know a place we could go hang out?” Wes asked once they were standing in the chilly evening air outside the bar. The alpine icebox door was open and blowing a breeze their way. “My motel or a hotel perhaps?”

“Yeah, but I’m known at those places so… no we can’t go there  - I do know a private place nearby, though.” Wes nodded with a grin. “We could walk there.” Wes took his bike off the kickstand and pushed it two blocks behind Kieran who turned into a narrow lane behind a house and barn shaped shed. Kieran seemed to be able to see in the dark just as well as Wes could.

I wonder if he’s a shifter wolf like me? They thought at the same moment.

Kieran’s boots crunched over a gravelled driveway and onto grass in the shadow of some huge pines. Wes saw him approach a tiny shed, clicking and clanking sounds came from the shed and a low light switched on.

“Come on over here,” Kieran called softly. Wes left his bike near the road and walked to the shed which he found to his surprise to be a fold-out fully stocked private bar with two bar stools and a brazier on the deck between the chairs. Kieran was busy getting a fire lit in the cast iron brazier. Wes settled on the left bar stool and admired Kieran’s heart shaped butt as he knelt packing fire makings into the frame. A match flared and showed the young marine’s face outlined in handsome detail, strong chin, cheeks still with fluff growing on them, firm brows and clear eyes that reminded Wes of the trout pools in the Big Thompson River.

“Nice spot you have here, Kieran.”

“Yeah, my dad built it before he died last year.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that. Were you close to your dad?” Kieran went still for a moment, thinking.

“I guess not. He always said I was a faggot. Even though I look like this,” he flexed a cut bicep, “I’ve always been really macho but he said he just knew I didn’t like girls. It was sad and all when he died but - I don’t miss him.” He bowed his head and gazed into the warm blaze which now crackled in the metal frame.

“Do you like girls?” Wes asked gently.

“Do you wanna drink?” Kieran quickly moved into the interior of the bar. “I got bourbon, whiskey, beer, and a lotta girl drinks that my ma and her friends drink when they use this place.”

“I’ll have a beer, thanks.” Wes smiled to himself. He felt the same way about being gay, only every second day now. “Girls just don’t do it for me. Thought you should know that.” His voice was husky and low. Kieran shivered and his hand trembled as he handed Wes his beer in a chilled bottle.

“Is that so?” Kieran murmured. He came around the bar and stood there, rocking on his toes, holding a whiskey bottle with four fingers of spirit left in it. He drank deeply from the bottle and set it down. He stepped forward directing a punch to Wes’s gut. Wes parried the blow and wrapped his arms around Kieran.

“Fucking faggot!” Kieran hissed. “You are a faggot! I don’t want to talk to you or have anything to do with you!” He struggled violently and tried to head butt Wes, but Wes held him tight.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, because you are the most attractive man I’ve met in years.” Wes murmured releasing Kieran and quickly stepping off the deck out of range of his strong arms and well trained fists. He began to walk back to his bike. No point being where he wasn’t wanted. It was totally normal to feel confused about your sexual orientation when you were young, and he wasn’t about to get caught up in Kieran’s homophobia and grief for his dad.

“No! Don’t go, Wes. Please!” Kieran ran after Wes and stopped in front of him, his breath huffing in white steam from his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“I want you, Kieran. Do you want me?”

“God help me yes!” His grey eyes alight, Kieran plunged into Wes’s arms and their lips met with fiery heat. Swamped with emotions the men swayed, falling into each other like rocks into a canyon. Slowly they separated, holding hands now, panting. Kieran leaned towards Wes and brushed his full soft mouth against the policeman’s firm lips. Wes swooned, his knees weak, he allowed Kieran to kiss him, their lips softly massaging, sucking, nibbling. A deep intimate kiss enhanced into delight as their bodies met, their erections pressing together. Camo pants and leather pants filled to bursting point, pressing and rubbing.

It was intoxicating, Wes shuddered, taking in all the smells and delights of Kieran’s mouth and face, then he moved his hands to the tight muscles of Kieran’s ass cheeks, how delicious they felt as he ran his hands over them, flexing, pressing Kieran closer. Teasingly there was no way to get as close as he wanted, to feel Kieran’s naked sex sweat wet skin against his.

It seemed that they struggled, wrestled, were battling for a win in a fight that led to surrender as Wes and Kieran stood in the yard deeply kissing. Strong, never giving in body clenching holds were employed as they strove against their frustrations and for their desires. A bright spotlight clicked on and lit them with blinding white light, they dropped their embrace, staggered back, shielded their eyes from the light with their hands.

“Kieran, is that you?” a gentle female voice called from the house.

“Yeah, mom, I’m here,” he panted.

“Come in now, son. It’s cold out there. I’ll leave the light on for you.”

“Okay mom.”

“Jeez, I can hardly see anything,” Wes muttered, his wolf senses blasted by the bright light.

“I want to see you again.” Kieran whispered hoarsely at Wes, his eyes desperately lonely and afraid. Wes began to walk to his bike which was at the edge of the lit yard and Kieran followed.

“Yes please,” said Wes. “In the morning I have to follow up some leads I got yesterday, I’ll be gone all day. But when I come back I’ll call you. You got a number?”

“Yeah.” Hurriedly in the blinding light Kieran wrote his mobile number on a match book and Wes tucked it into his pocket. He handed Kieran a business card.

“If I don’t call you, call me. But - I’ll call you for sure, Kieran. I want to see you again tomorrow night.” Their hands touched, their fingers lingered together, squeezed and all too soon released and Wes strode into the cold darkness where he spent a restless night in a cheap rusty motel bed, horny and longing for Kieran. Not thinking at all about the job he was there to do.

to be continued....
Alpine Wolf will be published before Christmas.

Lone Wolf

Hello dear readers, I've wanted to write wolf shifter romances for a while and finally got up the courage to write Lone Wolf. Then of course Lone Wolf finds his pack, the Trident Pack who have a unique role in life in the USA and Broken Wolf is found. All Happy ever after endings, after lots of problems, of course.
Comments or queries? Please message me at my email ckraine69 at gmail.com or my FaceBook Page

I really wish you every enjoyment of my series as it evolves. Here's the link to Lone Wolf and the lovely cover. Guess which hunk is Rane, the Weirdling Alpha?

Buy your copy of Lone Wolf today

Here's Chapter One and Two to give you a taste of Josh the Lone Wolf in Sin City

Chapter One

The Drifter

Jonas

The nightmare haunted me at least once a month. I was alone in a forest clearing; the ground was soft with freshly fallen snow, the pine tree branches sagged and creaked under the weight of the white powder. I could feel the cold seeping into my paws. In the night sky stars blazed ice clear and the full moon was a silent witness to what was happening under its soft blue light.

A pack of hungry grey wolves had trapped me in an ever tightening circle. They showed deadly fangs and growled deeply from the back of their throats. I was a wolf, a real wolf, grey coat, mouth open, showing my fangs, warning them to back off. The alpha wolf approached me while the rest of the pack waited for him to attack. I crouched ready to fight but I knew I would be torn apart. Instead of attacking the wolf spoke in a human voice.

“Submit to me.”

He demanded I submit to him, I struggled to ask why? How? Who are you? But my questions were never answered.

I would awaken, my body hot, covered in sweat and my cock hard, painfully hard, swollen with the blood from a fierce lust I couldn’t explain. How could I desire a wolf, an alpha male of a wolf pack? I was a human, a sick human who dreamt of being a wolf. Every time there was a new moon the dream came back and every time I would awaken with a raging erection and a lust for sex I felt ashamed of.

 My life had always been shrouded in mystery. I was told I was found abandoned on the steps of a Police station in Anchorage, Alaska. I ended up being shoved from welfare home to welfare home; I was the kid who didn’t speak, the sullen kid, the grey kid no-one noticed. I didn’t excel at anything except fighting. It took a long time to suppress my anger, bury it deep. I developed a persona where being in control was everything, emotion and caring were signs of weakness. I kept to myself didn’t show my true feelings.

I started to dream the dream when I turned sixteen - about the same time I admitted to myself I was gay. I didn’t fit the heterosexual stereotype of a gay male, or the stereotype of a soft spoken, effeminate gay man either. I was an athlete; unbeaten as an amateur boxer, six feet tall, dark thick hair over blue eyes and voted the hunkiest student in high school. Eventually I would mature into 200 pounds of American beefcake. I should have been happy but I wasn’t.

At eighteen, instead of college I hit the road. I was a wandering man going no-where; looking for something I didn’t know existed. For the next three years the road was my home. I slept beside it, in buses driving on it and in cheap motels alongside it. I wasn’t sad or depressed but I wasn’t content either, there was something missing that I felt I should have experienced in my youth. I didn’t know where to find what I needed but I looked anyway.

When I arrived in a new town or city I would make myself as presentable as possible and find a bar or a nightclub frequented by other men. I knew if I just sat quietly sooner or later a voice would ask, ‘Can I buy you a drink’ or ‘Want some company’ - pick-up lines, a reason to connect. Sometimes I would smile and say “Sure.” I was lonely, yet when someone tried to get too close I’d leave. How could I solve my problems when I didn’t even know what they were? I needed company but didn’t want just anyone in my life.

Often I would end up in a motel, hotel or even someone’s bedroom. I would make my company happy, so happy that sometimes I would find money in my battered wallet. I would often use it to buy food, maybe another pair of sneakers. Being on the road meant I went through a lot of shoes.

But the money was not the attraction. I often received monetary offers too good to refuse and I always turned them down. Men, lonely men wanted me but I felt nothing in return. The urge to move on was always stronger. Besides there was always something missing; love, genuine affection, a feeling of belonging. I felt the need to look for something but I didn’t know what. There was a switch in me that was turned to off, that was my enigma because I didn’t know what I needed to do or find to turn it on. I marveled that other men wanted me but couldn’t figure out why.

Then one day everything changed, the day I found out I wasn’t quite human.

My wanderings brought me to Las Vegas, Sin City, a place where dreams are made and shattered on the turn of a card or the click of a roulette wheel. I hadn’t planned to go to Vegas; it was just in the way of my pointless journey. I had worked security for five weeks at an art gallery in Los Angeles so I had enough cash to find a cheap motel.

The receptionist barely looked up from watching something on her cell phone. She wasn’t the kind of staff member to encourage business. She was middle aged, overweight, wore a moo-moo and bright green slippers. Her hair looked like it had been rejected as a bird’s nest and her makeup applied by a recovering alcoholic with advanced Parkinson’s.

“How you gonna pay honey, cash or credit card?”

“Cash, five nights alright?”

“Sure honey, we only change the sheets once every two days, less if you want to do your own laundry. We have a lot of long term residents. You get a discount for stays longer than two weeks.”

“No problem, I don’t intend staying for long.” I paid her in full.

“You wanna a receipt honey?”

I wonder how much of my dough is gonna see the cash register.

“No, doesn’t matter to me.”

“Unit 24, here’s your key. There are towels provided, enjoy your stay at Desert Winds Motel.”

The units were a cluster of cinder block cells, each with a shower stall built for someone suffering from anorexia. There was a double bed, small set of drawers, a closet and tiny flat TV on the wall. Welcome to the Ritz. Outside the sun was setting. I tossed a dime to see whether I took an early night or a look around town. Heads it’s an early night. I caught the dime. Damn, best out of three. My strategy worked; by the time I played best out of eleven the fates decided I should go out and sink a few beers. Whoever said man isn’t in control of his fate was a liar.

I squeezed my body into the shower tomb; at least the water pressure was good. I washed, shaved, brushed my hair, put on clean jeans, a checkered shirt, my battered sneakers and sunglasses. I caught a cab to the strip and wandered about until I found the type of place where I could get lucky.

The place tried to look up market; a long polished wooden topped bar ran from the edge of the stage halfway down one wall. There were tables with leather chairs, private booths and a DJ playing dance music on the stage. The dance floor was empty. There was a sign by the stage ‘Live band at eight till late.’

The blackboard by the bar said, ‘Happy hour seven till eight, drinks half price.’ There were poker machines in the corner furthest from the dance floor. Several customers were huddled over the screens, lost in a world of silly objects, crap repetitive tunes and dreams of winning back the wage they lost the week before.

The bar staff wore tight black jeans and pink shirts. The place was pretty quiet, maybe a dozen patrons. The bartender who served me was in his twenties, gold earrings, black slicked hair fell to his shoulders, lean, olive skin with brown eyes. His doe-eyed look reminded me of a deer surprised in the lights of a big rig the highway. His nameplate said Dion. His perfect white toothed welcome said ‘I paid five grand for a smile like this.’ I dropped a twenty on the bar.

“Beer cold, long glass.”

“What brand?”

“Surprise me.”

“The house beer is good. Haven’t seen you before, just got into town?”

“Yeah, nice place, not many customers.”

“Don’t worry, the crowd will turn up about nine or ten by then the place will be humming. You alone?”

I looked left and right and gave him a wink; well he was kind of cute even though it felt like he was giving me a shakedown. “Yeah, is that ok?”

“Maybe, if you’re looking for trade, this is the right place.” Dion smiled a knowing smile. “Boss has got a few rules if you are looking to sell.”

“And what rules would they be Dion?” I took a sip of beer it was cold, malty. I approved, the night wasn’t going to be a total loss. Dion locked eyes with me.

“A lot of the clients here are regulars; if you are offering a service, make sure you come up with the goods. Boss likes to keep the customers happy, know what I mean.”

“Sure, I’m just on my own not a thug or drug dealer for that matter. I’m just passing through; you won’t get any complaints from any of your regulars.” Dion nodded and tried again to dazzle me with his teeth.

“Have a good time, welcome to Shooters.” I smiled back. Dion thinks I am on the game looking for johns.

“Thanks Dion.”

I strolled over to the pokies and joined the rest of the losers, hell I was no different from most of them. I fed a twenty into the chrome mouth, the random tunes and the chance of winning fuck all won me over. Time disappeared where I didn’t have to think; just play, watch the wheels and pictures try to line up. I amused myself playing for dimes. All the while Shooters began to fill up, Dion had told the truth. The bar enjoyed a mixed patronage but the clientele seemed eighty percent gay, mostly young with money to spend, well dressed. Compared to me they had the buying power of a small corporation. I couldn’t have cared less.

The band was pretty good and I sat nursing my beer tapping my toes to the music. By 9pm the place was filling up fast. I began to feel the wandering eyes. I was sensitive that way, didn’t know why but I could sense things others couldn’t. I never thought much about why I was so sensitive to looks, furtive glances, and bedroom eyes. Perhaps all loners all had those sensitivities, a condition developed after years on the road. Not every stranger on the road wanted to be your friend. Sensing what was coming was handy, especially the times I had fought in the boxing ring or dealing to punks and thugs who didn’t understand what fuck off meant.

The hair on my neck bristled. What the hell? Whoa, someone’s really looking hard; I’ve never felt like this before. Careful now, don’t make any sudden moves, be casual. Is it the guy with the beard? Nope not him, the two guys at the bar? I see nothing, but someone’s looking hard at me. I can smell something. Wait a minute, I can’t smell anyone’s personal scent unless he has just earned the body odor of the year award. I screwed up my nose drew a lungful of air through my nostrils; there was something, a real distinct smell. I had never experienced sensations like this before and for a moment the scent was as real as the cheap cologne of the guy sitting at the next table to me. Then it was gone. I sipped my beer and relaxed. Wonder how strong this beer is, I hope Dion didn’t slip me a mickey finn?

“Mind if I sit down?” He flashed the twenty grand version of Dion the barman’s smile. On his right hand he wore expensive gold rings on three fingers, a diamond pinky ring on his left hand and several heavy gold chains around his neck. The guy was dressed in a dark grey business suit, with an open shirt. His hair was a handsome silver, his voiced clipped. I figured the dude was in his middle forties, maybe a little older.

“Sure,” I smelled trouble; a quick sideways look showed a large bearded goon and a smaller clean shaven facsimile leaning on the bar. I felt their eyes and they weren’t friendly.

“My name’s Red, I own this bar.”

“Nice place Red.” Red didn’t sound like he was about to throw down the welcome mat.

“You’re a nice looking guy. What’s your name?”

“Jonas.”

“Got a last name and a date of birth?”

“Yep, but that’s my business. Why do you need to know Red?”

“You got an attitude kid, don’t push your luck. I got contacts with the cops. I want to do a background check on you. I’ve already got three regulars here asking about you. They trust my judgement. So - I wanna know your surname and date of birth.”

“Maybe I’ll try another bar, Red.”

Red nodded and the two goons sauntered over trying to look like customers. The big one placed a large hand on my shoulder.

“Let’s keep this civil shall we?” Red’s smile was as sincere as a banker at a foreclosure sale. “Maybe we should discuss this in my office.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Well I do believe we can resolve any issues with dialogue, my guys can get outta hand at times. I have a feeling our chat will be as beneficial to you as me.”

I shrugged my shoulders and stood up. “Sure Red, I’m not looking for trouble. You lead the way.”

Red smiled, I figured he was a man used to getting his way. I was right about Dion; he’s spotting for his boss, pity we might have hit it off. The goons followed behind, I was the sheep in the procession, but sometimes that’s the way a wolf likes it.

Chapter Two

Confrontation

Jonas

Red’s office was opulent. On the gold velvet wall behind his oversized leather tooled desk were mounted heads of a bear, buffalo and a wolf. The wolf’s head worried me but I didn’t know why. I wondered if Red had actually shot the trophies in the wild himself. He struck me as the kind of guy who would pay fifty grand to shoot animals that were tethered to a fence while he was shooting from the safety of a tank turret.

In front of his desk were several easy chairs in brown stitched leather. The carpet was expensive, soft and deep, I hoped I had some old dog shit embedded in the tread of my sneakers. I rubbed my soles on the soft pile just in case. The thought made me smile. The goons stood behind me, no doubt with arms folded showing off their tattoos and looking staunch. Red sat on the overstuffed leather office chair behind his desk. What is it with short guys and big desks?

“So Jonas, how about we cut to the chase? You wanna earn some money in my bar, you gotta pass a police check, be tested for HIV. Like I said, I’ve had three customers ask after you already. They like what they see. One of them will pay two g’s for the weekend. You give me two hundred and I’ll introduce you to him.”

“I’m not a rent boy Red; you got the wrong end of the stick. Sure if I meet a guy I like, I might sleep with him, make him happy, but I never ask for money. If he wants to give me a room for a few days, maybe some spending money, so be it. I’ll even help with chores around the house; mow the lawns, maybe some manual work. Money doesn’t mean much to me Red. You got me wrong. I’m just a drifter.”

Red smiled. He thinks he’s onto a winner, the smug prick.  He waved a hand at his goons. “Wait outside, Jonas and I got some business to discuss.” They left shutting the door behind them.

“Firstly, the door behind you is the only way out of the office, my boys can be real bad men, but they can also be friendly if you play your cards right.”

Red was right, well almost right, I looked through the one way glass on the far wall of the office. Red could sit at his desk and watch the patrons at the far end of the bar where the pokies and private booths were located. Red crooked a finger.

“Come around to this side of the desk. That’s my boy.” Red held his raging hard-on in his left hand. Red is so smooth even my eyes slip off him, this must be his idea of foreplay. His right hand hovered near a button attached to his desk. “When I told you three of my customers fancied you, I lied. There were only two. I’m the third; I like young studs, especially blue eyed brunettes. I can tell you aren’t a professional rent boy; a pro would have jumped at the chance to make that kind of money. I can tell you are the kind to avoid trouble as well, an enthusiastic wet mouth is my preference anyway.”

“So my blowing you is your way of welcoming me to your club?” I can assure you Red I am no weak slut for your pleasure.

“Hahahaha, you got it kid, first you suck me off then let me watch you do the same to my boys. The big guy with the beard, Joey, he wants you bad, but right now you can attend to me. Get on your knees boy. There are two kinds of people in this world, those who do and those who do as they are fuckin told.”

I knelt down. I hope that one way glass isn’t bullet proof.

“You have a nice cock Red; I suppose you want me to suck it without a condom?”

“Sure, my boys and I will fuck you bareback as well. You look after me I’ll take care of you. You just make sure any others wear rubbers. Don’t worry, just relax and let your mouth do the talking. You’re gonna love my seed. I’m hot for ya kid.”

I took hold of Red’s cock with my left hand and lightly stroked him. Red closed his eyes. I watched his right hand; it had dropped away from the panic button on his desk. I was all smiles, a real twinkle, twinkle little star. I wonder if Red knows I’m thinking of using his cock like a stick shift and ramming it from first to reverse without the clutch.

I closed my right fist as I gently masturbated the rigid cock with my left hand.  He kept his eyes closed and started moaning. Looks like Red has taken his little blue pill today.

“Yeah nice boy, take your time, mmmm that’s it. I wanna feel your hot lips on my cock.”

I lifted my right shoulder, drew my fist back and hit Red on the point of his nose. I hit him hard and his nose exploded, blood gushed over my fist and his expensive silk shirt. Red slumped forward in his chair, he was out cold, at least for a minute or two. I wiped my fist clean on his shirt, hell it was his blood, not mine. I dragged Red over to the one way glass window and laid him beside it.

“Sleep tight Red.” I patted his cheeks.

I picked up his heavy chair and carried it to the doorway where the goons waited outside. Right- make it smooth, make it smooth. I felt excited like I used to feel in the boxing ring. I lifted the chair above my head and threw it at the window. I flattened myself beside the office door. Crash! The window blew out; glass flew in all directions as the chair catapulted into the nightclub. I heard screams and yells from the patrons.

BOOM! The door swung open, the goons rushed into the room and made straight for their unconscious boss. In a split second I was out the door running out into the nightclub before they realized I hadn’t gone through the smashed window. The crowd drew back as I sprinted across the crowded room heading for the exit. At the door a short heavy set Mexican leapt at me feet first with a karate style kick. Looks good on a movie screen but it’s the dumbest thing you can ever do. I stepped aside, made a hammer of my fist and hit him in the forehead as he sailed past. I sensed again that same weird odor I had smelled in the club before as I continued running out the door onto the crowded sidewalk.

I looked over my shoulder, the goons weren’t that far behind but I still had the legs and wind of a fighter. I picked up the pace and started to outdistance my pursuers. I ran for a few hundred yards dodging startled pedestrians, decided on a change of course turned left at the next street and began to sprint. Shit! I fucked up, it was a blind alley. 

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