Prickly By Nature (22 page)

Dylan glared, and Avery burst out laughing.

“Poor baby,” Avery said with a mock pout. “How about I promise to take care of you when I get home?”

“Oh,” Dylan said and propped himself up on his elbows, grinning back at his mate, “you’re going to take extra special care, brat. No doubt about it. You spend too much time away from home and I want you with me.”

The heat in Avery’s eyes seared Dylan where he sat. “Can’t wait.” He winked, then disappeared into the bathroom. Avery was trouble.

DYLAN STOOD
in front of Lucas’s old bungalow a couple of hours later. The place had a charming, easy feel. He shook off the reverie and rolled his bike into his friend’s workshop to get it out of the steady drizzle coming down outside. Shaking his head back and forth released the water from his hair and made him smile. It was a habit he’d always had and never given thought to until Avery pointed out how very canine it made him.

The clank of metal on concrete followed by a curse brought him out of his head, and he looked around the big open space. It was a lot smaller than Green’s but a few times bigger than a two-car garage. He’d been there countless times, yet he could never remember feeling this out of place. Standing at the rolled-up sectional door, Dylan looked at the room and wondered if he’d made the wrong decision coming to visit Lucas while Avery was off doing whatever the hell he was doing. While his and Lucas’s friendship had been less strained since their time spent down South, Dylan still felt like something was off. He didn’t like not knowing how to fix it.

“Hey, man.” Lucas entered the main workroom from a side door behind which Dylan knew he stored all the spare parts and paint. Which explained the sound. There was no telling what all Lucas had in that room. “What’s up?”

Dylan pasted on a smile and made his way across the floor. “Nothing really. Av’s out with Reid on some job this morning for God knows how long, so I thought I’d come see if you needed any help with this.” He gestured to the project Lucas had been tinkering with slowly for years.

The ’67 GTO had been Lucas’s mother’s before she’d passed away. Lucas had only ever loved his mother more than he loved that car. He’d been so obsessed she’d promised him early on that one day it would be his, and now it was. Though Dylan had no doubt he’d rather have his mom back than that car. Which was why it sat day after day under a cover, rusting away. It had only been in recent months that Lucas started working on it again. Dylan had helped him until things between them walled up.

Lucas eyed the deep violet vehicle like it would jump out from behind its dust cover and bite him, then nodded. “Yeah, okay. I just got the new exhaust system for it in a few days ago. You can help me install it.”

“Please tell me that’s not what I heard you drop in the back.” Dylan’s eyes rounded dramatically even though he grinned.

The old Lucas was still under this guy’s stiff façade, because he rolled his eyes and smiled at Dylan. “As if. That was an old oil can. Damn thing fell off a shelf. I’m lucky it didn’t break my toe. Heavy fucker,” he grumbled, walking back into the same room he’d come from, to retrieve the exhaust pipes, Dylan figured.

“Well, if you’d take some time to organize that mess you got going in there,” Dylan yelled.

“I keep telling you,” Lucas said, exiting the doorway as he carried a large cardboard box, “that’s not gonna happen unless you get your ass in there and do it yourself.”

Dylan snorted and joined him when he set down the box near the trunk of the car. “Not happening. I’m pretty sure you have something in there that would eat me or keep me as its plaything, then Avery would be jealous.” They both laughed.

This was fun—the banter they’d always shared. It was as normal as breathing. As they worked, they talked about the usual—work, their friends, and Avery. When the subject of Avery came up, Dylan noticed Lucas didn’t shut himself off like he’d been doing for the past couple of months.

Every now and then, his friend got a look on his face, like he was getting ready to say something, but then he would close his mouth and continue with the placement of the pipes.

Finally Dylan couldn’t help it. “What is it?”

Lucas looked at him with a question in his eyes but didn’t answer.

“You want to say something, but you haven’t. What do you want to tell me? I can take it.”

He could. He hoped. The day had been nice, and Dylan was beginning to feel their friendship lock itself back into place. He didn’t want anything to deter that.

As they continued to work, Lucas remained quiet, the happy smile on his face fading into a look of concentration and thoughtfulness. Then after Dylan had given up on getting an answer to his question, Lucas broke the thick silence with “I’m going out of town for a little bit.”

That’s not what Dylan had expected. His eyebrows shot up, and he faced his friend.

Lucas talked while he worked, not looking at Dylan. “Please don’t ask why. I’m not ready to talk about it. It’s just something I need to do.” He paused with a sigh and dropped his hands from the shiny chrome pipe. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” he said softly.

“But you’re coming back, right?” Dylan had never thought of life without Lucas right down the road. That didn’t make sense to him—like peanut butter and mayonnaise.

Lucas lifted his head, and his brow creased when he met Dylan’s gaze. “Yes,” he said adamantly. “Of course I’m coming back.”

It was clear Lucas wasn’t telling him something. His telltales were showing—the way he couldn’t hold Dylan’s stare, his erratic fidgeting. In most things, Lucas was cool, calm, and levelheaded, but when he was uncomfortable or when, on the rare occasion, he didn’t know how to act or react, he rolled the hem of his shirt or picked at a string on his pocket—anything to detract attention from the real issue. If Lucas was coming to terms with whatever he was going through, Dylan could accept it. He knew Luc well enough to know he’d tell him when he was ready.

Dylan nodded. “Okay, but at least tell me where you’re going so Mom won’t worry.”

He smiled at that, just like Dylan knew he would. Luc saw Betty as a second mother, and she took that responsibility to heart, as far as disciplining him while they were growing up. “She kind of already knows.”

The words caught Dylan off-kilter. He tried not to acknowledge the twinge of hurt or jealousy or both that pinched inside his chest at the fact that Lucas had gone to Betty first. He’d never done that. Even when they’d fought as kids, they’d always made up and told each other what secrets or stories or gossip they’d learned during that time. Those things were between them alone. They didn’t share them.

“Sure,” he replied, patting the fender. “Let’s get these bolted on at least. We can finish when you get back.” Dylan was already planning time to restore the old Pontiac while Luc was gone. It was the least he could do after all his friend had done for him. After all, if not for Lucas’s constant nagging, it might have taken Dylan even longer to come to his senses about Avery.

Dylan smiled to himself at the way he and Lucas had fallen so easily back into working together. Their movements were fluid, almost choreographed, seamless. Over the next hour, the only sounds echoing in the room were the few rounds of laughter after Dylan smacked his forehead on the fender, and the clank and creaks of the tools.

The chime alerting Dylan to a text reverberated in the quiet shop so loudly he jumped and nearly hit his head once more, only saved by Luc’s palm pushing him away. He rolled his eyes at Dylan and snorted. “Go home, dude. You’re gonna get yourself hurt, and I don’t provide worker’s comp here.”

Dylan slid out from beneath the car, sat up, and reached for his phone. It was a text message from Avery.

U ever cumming home??? ;)

Dylan growled and his insides clenched. His mate was a little tease.

“Home,” Lucas ordered with a smile as he walked to his workbench to clean his hands.

“Okay, okay.” Dylan pushed to his feet and watched his friend. Something told him this would be the last time he’d see Luc for a while, and suddenly he was at a loss for words. Not only that, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to leave. There had only been one time he could remember when they’d spent more than a week in different cities. Right after his mom had passed, Lucas had had to stay with an aunt until his dad was able to deal with life without his mate again.

While wolves were able to survive the death of a mate, the emotional toll was difficult to handle at first. Some wolves didn’t survive it, and others fought to live on in the name of their mate. That’s what Vance Marshall—Lucas’s father—had done, though it hadn’t been easy from what Dylan had seen.

Dylan blinked back the burn behind his eyes. He loved Lucas like a brother. Hell, he was the closest thing Dylan had ever had to one. He wanted the best for him, wanted him to be happy, but the selfish part of him wanted Lucas to forget whatever he was doing, wherever he was going, and whomever he was going for, and stay so Dylan wouldn’t feel like he’d lost part of himself. Where Avery and the rest of Dylan’s friends looked to Dylan to be their stability and grounding force, Lucas was that for Dylan. The one true friend who had never wavered, never faltered, never backed down. Even in the past few months, after he’d admitted to being jealous of Dylan and Avery’s relationship, Dylan had no doubt that Lucas had his back through thick and thin.

When the words begging Lucas not to go were on the tip of his tongue, Dylan cleared his throat instead and said, “You know you can call me, right?” Lucas glanced up at him, his eyes suspiciously shiny, and Dylan wondered if maybe Lucas’s train of thought had been similar. Lucas nodded. “I’m not sure where you’re going, but any time, day or night, if you call, I’ll get on a plane and be there.”

Appreciation shone in Lucas’s eyes before he turned away. Dylan pretended not to see the glimmer of tears. “Thanks,” Lucas choked out, his words watery and soft. “I mean it.”

Dylan nodded at his back. When it was clear he didn’t plan on saying anything more, Dylan said his good-bye and turned to leave. Just as he reached the door, Lucas called out, “Louisiana.”

Dylan stopped in his tracks, spun on his heel, and faced his friend. He squinted, unsure he’d heard what he thought he heard. Surely Lucas hadn’t meant he was going to Louisiana. Why would he go back?

Lucas coughed. “I’ll be in New Orleans.” He shrugged. “Just so you know, so you won’t worry.” Then he turned and walked away.

“I HAVE
news. The toxicology report for Joel came in this morning.”

Avery bit his lip and slumped onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar in his kitchen. He’d just finished brewing himself a mug of tea when his phone buzzed, flashing Heath Ribeiro’s name on the screen. In the four weeks since Joel’s death, they’d spoken often enough to be on a first-name basis. They weren’t becoming friends exactly, but they’d moved beyond mere acquaintances. Avery supposed that was what happened when people started working toward a common goal. Lacey’s disappearance might be tied to many of the missing persons’ cases Heath was currently investigating. Finding her could lead to others—or so they hoped.

Avery clenched his fingers around his cell when Heath hesitated. “Tell me.”

Heath sighed, loud and staticky. “It’s as the coroner suspected from the very beginning. The drugs and liquor found in his system matched what was found on his bedside table. Oxy. Benzos. He made himself a killer cocktail and never woke up.”

Avery’s skin flashed hot and cold. Goose bumps sprang up on his flesh, the suddenness making him shudder. The news was what he’d been expecting… and dreading. Without proof of foul play, Joel Overkamp was officially a dead end—no pun intended—and he’d taken the information about Lacey to the grave along with him.

Despair swelled in Avery’s chest, stifling his lungs. A stress shift loomed, his animal clamoring to protect him, and the need to give in to it prickled along his limbs. At least he was home. No need to fight the compulsion. Resisting only made it painful.

“Avery?” Heath asked when the silence had stretched for too long.

“Gotta go.” Those two words were all Avery managed before ending the call. He couldn’t worry about politeness right then. With trembling hands, he ripped the clothes from his body, his breaths coming in shaky rasps. He got to his den and onto the couch before the shift overtook him. The world tilted and blurred as he shrank, the bookshelves containing his albums becoming giants as his perspective changed.

As soon as it was over, he nosed his way under the blanket, the fabric snagging on his spines, and curled up into a miserable ball.

That was where Dylan eventually found him. Gentle hands lifted him from his nest, and Avery unfurled enough to hiss. Dylan ignored him, of course. He cradled Avery to his chest and stroked a finger along the bridge of his snout.

“Heath called me,” Dylan said, his voice vibrating through Avery’s small body. “He was worried about you.”

Avery buried his face in Dylan’s shirt. Even if he wanted to talk, he couldn’t, and he wasn’t ready to shift back yet.

Dylan seemed to understand. He grabbed the blanket from the couch and pulled it over them both.

Avery took comfort in the sound of his mate’s steady heartbeat. He knew he couldn’t linger in his hedgehog form for long. He had a job tonight for a case he was working with Reid. He didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in self-pity. But he could spare a few minutes more.

Avery squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think.

“WHERE DID
you say you were going?”

Avery paused in the middle of applying his eyeliner. He peeked out of the bathroom to see Dylan sprawled on their bed. It was after nine, and he’d have to be leaving soon to make the 10:00 p.m. show. Luckily Reid had loaned him the Camry again so he wouldn’t have to rely on MAX’s schedule.

“Boylesque.”

Dylan’s forehead creased. “What the hell is that?”

Avery lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Burlesque with boys.”