Bear County 9

Cowboy Stripper

Stripper is no stranger to using whatever means necessary in order to

gain the information he needs. He's been hired to find a missing woman who
has the codes Nicolas Reno is after. When Stripper kidnaps Reno and takes
him to a place where he plans to torture the man for information, he soon
discovers that he just might have the wrong guy.

Wilbur Castro has no clue why he's been kidnapped. He wakes tied to a
chair in a grungy room with no recollection of the night before. The stranger
with hazel eyes keeps calling him Reno and no matter how much Wilbur
argues otherwise, the guy isn‟t listening to him. His captor is convinced that
Wilbur is the man in question. When the real Reno goes after Wilbur, intent
on stealing the man's identity and life, Wilbur finds himself reaching out to the
very man who'd kidnapped him.

Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Contemporary, Paranormal,

Romantic Suspense, Shape Shifter, Western/Cowboys

Length: 38,439 words

COWBOY STRIPPER

Bear County 9

Lynn Hagen
 THE LYNN HAGEN

MANLOVE COLLECTION

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com
 ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your
non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy
for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You
do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written
permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book.
This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from
your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer
program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal
and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in
whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method
currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this
book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this

copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including
infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is
punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

If you find a Siren-BookStrand e-book being sold or shared illegally,

please let us know at
legal@sirenbookstrand.com
 A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: The Lynn Hagen ManLove Collection

COWBOY STRIPPER
Copyright © 2014 by Lynn Hagen
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-359-8

First E-book Publication: October 2014

Cover design by Emma Nicole

All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be

reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic
or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written
permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to
actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com
 Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

If you have purchased this copy of Cowboy Stripper by Lynn Hagen

from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you
for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or

group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or
any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers
high-quality reading entertainment.

This is Lynn Hagen‟s livelihood. It‟s fair and simple. Please respect
Lynn Hagen‟s right to earn a living from her work.

Amanda Hilton, Publisher

www.SirenPublishing.com

www.BookStrand.com
 Table of Contents

Title Page Copyright Page Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter
Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter
Fourteen About the Author
 COWBOY STRIPPER

Bear County 9

LYNN HAGEN

Copyright © 2014

Chapter One

“What the hell!” Wilbur sputtered as the cold water splashed over him.
He blinked the water out of his eyes, trying to bring the room into sharper
focus. There was a chill in the air, making him shiver as the water seeped
beneath his clothes and clung to his skin.
Where in the hell was he?
“So glad you could join me.” A man with piercing hazel eyes moved
into view. He was imposing and a bit on the scary side. His black T-shirt
stretched across an expansive chest, and his muscles rippled as he moved.
Wilbur shook his head like a dog shaking the wetness from his fur. He
couldn‟t wipe the water away considering his hands were tied behind his back.
How he‟d gotten like this was anybody‟s guess. Gazing around the room,
Wilbur noticed concrete walls, a steel door, and a large mirror like the ones
used in those detective shows. Was this guy a cop? Since when did a cop
splash water on people or tie them up?
Each ankle was bound to one of the legs on the chair he was sitting in.
Wilbur wasn‟t getting up anytime soon, and his nose was itching.
 “Now, Mr. Reno,” the stranger said as he set the bucket aside. “Let‟s
not waste your time or mine.”
Time was going to be wasted because Wilbur had no freaking clue who
this guy was or where they were. And who was Mr. Reno? That wasn‟t
Wilbur‟s last name.
The last thing Wilbur could remember was leaving the office building
where he worked. It had been late, and he had burned the candle way past
midnight. After shutting everything down, he‟d walked out into the parking lot
and…
Things were a bit fuzzy from there.
The stranger slowly circled Wilbur‟s chair like a vulture honing in on
road kill. The man‟s eyes were flat, cold, holding no compassion whatsoever,
but then something lethal begin to stir in those hazel eyes. Wilbur had a
terrible urge to scream, “Don‟t peck my eyes out!”
“All you have to tell me is where you stashed Ms. O‟Connor, and we
can end this.”
Wilbur could end this sooner because he had no clue what the guy was
talking about. Who the hell was Ms. O‟Connor? This was obviously a case of
mistaken identity. Wilbur tugged at the binding tape. It didn‟t budge. “I don‟t
know what you‟re talking about. I don‟t know any Ms. O‟Connor.”
The man‟s laugh sounded sinister as he placed his boot on the chair
between Wilbur‟s legs. The stranger leaned his bulky arms on his knee as he
smirked at Wilbur. “Come now, Mr. Reno. Your little innocent act isn‟t going
to wash with me. If you don‟t start talking soon, I can make you talk.”
The stranger‟s voice was feral, deep, with an edge of danger that said he
would go through with any threat he handed out. The man stood over Wilbur
like a dark warrior who‟d escaped hell. His features were closed, but his eyes
still held a promise of torture if Wilbur didn‟t cooperate.
He was at of loss as to what to say or do. Somehow he knew denying
knowledge wouldn‟t mean anything to this guy. Wilbur‟s body continued to
shake as he wondered what was going to happen to him. Whether he
continued to plead innocent or fabricated some story to please this man, things
were looking pretty grim. Would his captor kill him? Exactly who was Wilbur
dealing with?
Wilbur cried out when the stranger grabbed his hair and yanked his
head back. Their faces were inches apart, the man‟s warm breath skittering
across Wilbur‟s lips. It smelled minty. “Silence is not a wise tactic, Mr.
Reno.”
The stranger‟s eyes held no mercy, no understanding that this was a big
mix-up. Wilbur started to tell the guy this, but his voice caught in his throat.
Fear strangled him, and his head ached with the pain of the man‟s tight grip on
Wilbur‟s hair.
“Where. Is. Ms. O‟Conner?”
“I-I don‟t know,” Wilbur whispered. He was staring into his own death.
He fought down the urge to beg this man to believe him. If the guy killed
Wilbur, who would feed his goldfish? Harry would starve to death. Then
again, Wilbur had had three goldfish die on him in the past two months.
Maybe he should reconsider being a pet owner.
Wilbur swallowed tightly, the move hurting since his neck was bent all
the way back. On the bright side, he was no longer cold because the man was
sharing his body heat with him standing so close.
“Do you really want to play this game with me?” The man‟s fingers
tightened painfully. “Trust me. You don‟t want what I have to offer.”
“Could you offer me a bathroom? I really have to go.” Wilbur tried to
forget about his bladder, but the asshole yanked at his hair again, and for some
weird reason, the move made Wilbur‟s bladder twinge. Strange but true.
“Easy,” Wilbur shouted. “That really hurts, you know. You have very bad
manners.”
The guy snarled as he released Wilbur. “Fine, we‟ll do things the hard
way.”
Wilbur wasn‟t sure what that meant. The man left the room, slamming
the door behind him. When the bastard didn‟t come back, Wilbur glanced
around and said, “Hello? Can anyone hear me? I‟m tied up, and I really have
to pee.”
Nothing.
Dang it.
He tried to scoot his chair across the floor and had made it about an inch
when the door swung open. The stranger was back. There was another bucket
in his hand and a piece of cloth.
“Have you ever heard of dry drowning?”
“Not really. Would that require a wetsuit?” Wilbur‟s skin was starting
to itch as the exposed parts began to dry. He really needed his hands free so he
could scratch. He was ready to throw himself sideways so he could fall to the
floor and scoot across it like an inchworm just to have some friction on his
skin.
“We‟ll see how witty you are when I‟m finished with you.” The
stranger set the bucket aside and came toward Wilbur.
Wilbur tried to move his chair away, but he wasn‟t fast enough. He
threw his head to the right and then the left when the guy tried to put the cloth
over Wilbur‟s head.
 “I‟m claustrophobic!”
“Even better,” the man snarled. “Now hold the fuck still.”
“Can‟t we talk about this like two sensible adults?” Wilbur tried to
move to the right, but the guy outmaneuvered him and slid the cloth over his
head. He held back a scream, his chest tightening. He became dizzy, and the
room began to spin. “Please,” he begged and felt the tears welling up. “I‟m
really scared.”
“Then tell me where Ms. O‟Connor is.”
Wilbur‟s shoulders slumped as he shook his head. The cloth was warm
but scratchy. The material made him sneeze. “I don‟t know. I swear,” Wilbur
said before he felt the first tear streak down his cheek. “I‟m just an accountant.
I have no idea who you‟re talking about. And then he added, “Please, mister. I
really am claustrophobic. Please take this off of me.” Wilbur‟s lungs were
burning as he tried to pull in enough air to breathe, but it wasn‟t working.
Sweat began to trickle down his face as he whimpered. “Please.”
The cloth was removed in one fluid motion, and Wilbur was
embarrassed that his captor could see the tears running down his face. He tried
to wipe them on his shoulder, but his shirt was wet and the material scratched
him.
For the first time since Wilbur had set his eyes on the man, the guy
looked uncertain. Wilbur considered begging some more, but he kept quiet.
He was already ashamed at his tears.
“What‟s your name?” the stranger asked, his tone velvet soft.
“Wilbur Castro.” Wilbur sniffled. “I‟m an accountant at Fiber and Sons.
You can call my boss, and he‟ll verify it. He‟s cranky and not very nice most
of the time, but I‟m pretty sure he‟ll tell you who I am.” Wilbur gazed up at
his captor and asked, “Can I please go the bathroom? I haven‟t wet myself
since I was nine.”
“Nine?”
Wilbur shrugged. “Childhood issues.”
The side of the man‟s mouth jerked as if he was trying to stop a smile.
“Why do you work for someone who treats you that way?”
Wilbur didn‟t want to tell this stranger his life story. It was quite boring
and a tad pathetic. “He‟s a family friend. My dad thought he was doing me a
favor when he asked his friend to hire me.”
And Wilbur hadn‟t told his dad what a douchebag Mr. Fiber was. The
two were close friends, and Wilbur didn‟t want to drive a wedge between
them.
“So you go to a job you hate because you want to please your father?”
The man made it sound like it was a bad thing.
 “Wouldn‟t you do anything to make your dad happy?” Wilbur‟s father
had worked hard to put food on the table and raise him. His parents loved each
other deeply, and his dad was an all-around good guy. It was just a job. Wilbur
could deal with it.
“I wouldn‟t sacrifice my own happiness,” the guy replied. “Have you
told him about his friend?”
Wilbur shook his head. “No. They go way back, to their college days. I
can‟t come between them. That wouldn‟t be nice of me.”
The guy looked at Wilbur in disbelief. “I‟ll be back.”
“But I have to use the bathroom,” he reminded the man. “Please.”
The guy sighed and then pulled a knife from his belt. Wilbur cringed
until the stranger squatted and cut the tape around Wilbur‟s ankles. The guy
then moved around Wilbur and cut the tape at his wrists. Wilbur rubbed the
soreness as the man led him from the room and down a long hallway.
“Where are we? This looks like a boiler room from a Freddie Kruger
movie.” The lights overhead flickered, and Wilbur hurried to catch up to his
captor. When Wilbur was close, he noticed how much taller the guy was to his
mere five-foot-four height. He was staring right at the guy‟s back.
“Location isn‟t important.” The man stopped at the end of the hall and
opened a door that had more stains than paint. It creaked, and Wilbur waited
for some creature to jump out at him. “Just use the head and hurry up.”
Wilbur nodded and stepped into the room. There were rust stains in the
sink and toilet, and the light was one of those pull-string types. When he
yanked the cord, it broke. Wilbur held the chain in his hand and then shoved it
into his pocket. He might need it to break out of here, although he wasn‟t sure
how he would use it. But it could come in handy.
It was dark in this closet-size bathroom when the door was shut, but
Wilbur was pretty sure that, if he didn‟t hit his mark, no one would notice. The
bathroom was deplorable. Wilbur was afraid to touch anything. Where was
hand sanitizer when he needed it?
He used his foot to flush the toilet, and amazingly enough, it flushed.
He wasn‟t about to put his hands in that sink. Instead, he wiped them on his
slacks and exited the bathroom. He‟d wash them the first chance he had.
His captor was on the phone, silently growling at someone. Wilbur
caught a few words. “Mix-up” and “strangle you” were simple enough to
understand. When the stranger turned and saw Wilbur standing there, the guy
hung up.
“Do I have to go back to that room?” Wilbur asked as he was escorted
back down the hallway. “I promise not to escape if you put me in a room with
a table and gave me something warm to drink.”
 Dang. Wilbur had promised, which meant he had to keep his word. His
father had taught him that—though he didn‟t think his father imagined a
kidnapping scenario when he‟d taught Wilbur the value of keeping his word.
Still…
“I‟ll see what I can come up with.”
Wilbur had to walk quickly to keep up with the man‟s long strides. He
inwardly cheered when he spotted steps ahead. Maybe the guy was going to
let Wilbur go. He crossed his fingers as they climbed the steps.
 Chapter Two

The old school had been closed down for years. It sat on the west side
of Junction City, a chain-link fence surrounding the worn-down structure to
keep people out. There hadn‟t been any electricity until Stripper had tapped
into the main power supply at the pole and rewired a few things.
Shott had set up his equipment in the school office, and Stripper had
conducted his interrogation in the basement. He‟d been shocked to find the
room down there. Maybe that was one of the reasons the place had been shut
down. It wasn‟t a large school, and from his research, it had been a private
one.
The classrooms were small. The one he left Wilbur in held fifteen
desks, max. The human appeared a bit pale as Stripper closed the door behind
him. He leaned against the peeling, off-white wall in the hallway. He closed
his eyes and cursed.
Wilbur's aroma was driving him insane. Since first snatching the man
from the parking lot in the business district, Stripper had scented hot summer
rain and licorice. It was a very strange combination, but one that appealed on
every level to his bear.
This was all wrong. The whole situation. He turned when he felt more
than heard people coming down the hall. T-Rex and Legend looked like a
powerhouse duo, large and imposing. But so was Stripper.
“What the fuck was that?” T-Rex asked, his tone clipped. “Are you
going to offer him dinner next?”
“That‟s not Nicolas Reno,” Stripper argued as he pushed away from the
wall.
“Why, because he cried and begged you to be nice?” T-Rex was in full
pissed-off mode. He features were dark, and his nostrils were flaring. “If we
let every person go that begged us, we‟d have been killed years ago.”
Legend stood there silently, his gaze locked on the classroom door. The
man had a way of looking menacing even when he wasn‟t trying.
Stripper curled his hands at his sides, gritting his teeth. “I did the
research on Nicolas Reno. I spent weeks following him and learning his every
move. Tell me what the fuck is going on. How did I grab the wrong guy?”
“Haven‟t you ever heard that everyone has a twin in this world?”
Legend asked, his voice neutral. “I think Reno found his and exploited the
situation.”
Stripper had a job to do, and becoming attracted to someone who might
be extremely dangerous wasn‟t his cup of tea. He didn‟t do commitments, and
he wasn‟t even going to do a one-night stand with the guy. He shouldn‟t be
falling for Wilbur‟s tears. That could get him killed. He immediately felt an
edge of distaste at his attempt to make that situation into something
unemotional, something less powerful than it was becoming.
Wilbur‟s face surfaced in Stripper‟s mind to torment him and leave him
hungry to see the man again. What the hell was the human doing to him?
Executive Bodyguards had been hired by a private firm to look into
corporate espionage. But Stripper‟s gut told him that Wilbur was no more a
spy than Donald Duck. Nicolas Reno was cunning, ruthless, and would use
any means necessary to get the job done. Could Wilbur and Nicolas be one
and the same?
Stripper didn‟t think so, but his emotions were running amuck. He
wanted Wilbur too badly, and that was clouding his judgment. Never before
had he felt sorry for someone he was interrogating.
“You need to step back from this,” T-Rex said. “I‟m not sure what‟s
going on, but you seemed frayed. Let Legend take over.”
Stripper had worked too hard on Reno‟s profile. He had found Reno‟s
associates, his buyers, and even a silent partner who had fled the country two
days ago. He‟d managed to snag Reno before the man had fled as well. But he
still couldn‟t believe that Wilbur was Reno.
Though the resemblance was striking.
“I got this.” Stripper knew he was playing a dangerous game. Logically,
he should hand this over to Legend. What if he made the wrong call and fell
for the bad guy? But what if Wilbur was who he said he was and Stripper
unleashed Legend on the human? He shook his head. “I‟ll break him.”
“Are you sure?” T-Rex asked. “We can‟t afford for you to go soft on
us.”
Stripper grabbed his groin. “There‟s nothing soft about me.”
Legend rolled his eyes. T-Rex didn‟t look the least bit amused.
Stripper released himself and flipped them both off. “Fuck both of you.
I know my job.”
“That‟s my boy,” T-Rex said. “Now do what you came here to do.
Break the son of a bitch so we can go home.”
Stripper nodded, centered himself, and then stepped back into the
classroom. His lungs instantly filled with Wilbur‟s scent, making Stripper‟s
back teeth clench in need.
He stopped just inside the door to see Wilbur using the chalkboard.
Stripper gazed at what the man had written. The heading read “Bucket List,”
and below that, the first item was to have sex. Was this some sort of code?
Was Wilbur leaving some kind of message for his contacts? The second item
was to become a better pet parent. The third was to learn how to dry drown in
a wetsuit.
What the hell?
Stripper cleared his throat. “Have a seat, Mr. Reno.”
Wilbur dropped the chalk and gasped as he spun as if Stripper had
frightened him. The human‟s suit was crumpled from the water Stripper had
splashed on the man, and his reddish-brown hair was sticking up at every
angle. Wilbur looked a hot mess and so fucking adorable that Stripper was
getting hard.
“Are we back to that again?” Wilbur asked as his emerald-green eyes
widened.
Stripper grabbed the chair closest to him and turned it before he
straddled it. He rested his arms on the back and nodded toward another chair.
“Have a seat.”
Wilbur kept his back to the boarded-up windows as he scooted to his
right. He grabbed the chair and took a seat, clasping his hands in his lap.
“How can I convince you of who I really am?”
“I‟ll ask the questions,” Stripper stated, trying to remain aloof and
unaffected by the powerful scent clinging to the air—even if every cell in his
body demanded he take Wilbur right here, over the dusty teacher‟s desk.
Wilbur was different, Stripper‟s heart swore, though his mind fought that
instinctive knowledge.
Wilbur‟s head bobbed with a nod. “Then can you ask when I can go
home? I haven‟t had anything to eat, and when my sugar levels drop, I get a
bit dizzy.”
“You‟re a diabetic?”
“Borderline. My doctor has monitored me since I was a small child, and
together we‟ve managed to keep me from becoming a full-blown pill popper.”
Wilbur strummed his fingers over his knees. “Do you have a candy bar in your
pocket or a pack of sugar, maybe a left over M&M that fell from the bag?”
Stripper was simply fascinated by this gorgeous creature. Wilbur wasn‟t
what most humans would consider striking or even handsome, but he was
downright sexy to Stripper. Wilbur carried a little more weight than what was
considered model thin, but it looked good on the guy. The man had a plump
ass, wide hips, and was thick in all the right places.
Stripper was growing increasingly harder by the second. He tried once
again to turn his emotions off, to become the lethal militant he‟d been trained
to be. Stripper became rigidly hard, and narrowed his eyes. “Stop with the
bullshit, Mr. Reno. I want to know where—”
 “Ms. O‟Connor is,” Wilbur finished for him. “No clue.”
“You kidnapped her in an attempt to extract codes from her. Now tell
me where you have her or—”
“You‟ll let me go into a diabetic coma?” Wilbur licked his lips, and
Stripper noticed how the sweat had begun to gather over the human‟s
forehead. It could be the fact that Wilbur—or Nicolas or whoever this man
was—was nervous. He wanted to get up and check on the human, but if
Wilbur was deceiving him, Stripper didn‟t want to be made a fool of.
He‟d never been so conflicted in his life.
He tried to hold out, to see if Wilbur was faking. The guy had been
shaking earlier, so that was nothing new. Stripper wasn‟t falling for—was the
guy growing pale? Stripper gazed into Wilbur‟s green eyes. “Hey?”
Wilbur blinked and glanced at the chalkboard. His head moved slightly
from side to side as his eyes continued to flutter rapidly. “Are you ever going
to let me use the bathroom?”
Some kind of trick?
“You already used the head.” Stripper curled his fingers in, resisting the
urge to go to the man.
Wilbur‟s head bobbed up and down. “I remember.”
Inhaling deeply, Stripper smelled something strange mixed in with
Wilbur‟s scent. The room still held the fragrance of hot summer rain and
licorice, but there was a hint of… Stripper inhaled again.
“Do I stink?” Wilbur sniffed under his arms. “I might after what you‟ve
put me through.”
“You don‟t stink.” Not in the human sense. But on a preternatural level,
something was off. Stripper just couldn‟t put his finger on what the scent
reminded him of.
“Screw you!” Wilbur shouted and jumped from his seat, pacing as if
agitated. “I‟m tired of this bullshit. Let me go home.”
“Sit. Down.”
“I won‟t sit down. I‟m not staying here for another moment.”
Wilbur rushed to the door, but Stripper was up and had the man around
his waist in seconds flat. Wilbur struggled to get free and finally Stripper had
to wrap his arms around the human‟s, pinning them to Wilbur‟s chest.
“Settle!” Being this close, Stripper recognized the odor. The human‟s
sweat smelled like bile. What the hell? He could feel Wilbur‟s pulse beating
rapidly, and the guy felt clammy.
Wilbur wasn‟t faking. Stripper released the man and headed toward the
door. Legend was just outside, off to the side, holding a few sugar packs in his
hand. “Grabbed them from the box Shott carries for his coffee.”
 “Thanks.” Stripper grabbed them and headed back into the classroom.
Wilbur hadn‟t moved.
“I‟m sorry,” Wilbur said. “I promised I wouldn‟t leave, and I just tried
to.”
Stripper handed Wilbur the packets. “Eat those.”
Wilbur tore into them, emptying each packet onto his tongue. Stripper
glanced toward the door to see both Legend and T-Rex gazing in. While
Wilbur digested the sugar, Stripper went back out into the hallway.
“What if he isn‟t faking? Are you willing to kill him to prove a point?
Giving the guy a meal couldn‟t hurt.”
T-Rex didn‟t look pleased. He had such a cool confidence since this
assignment had begun. There was lack of regret in the man‟s eyes, and that
only irrigated Stripper. When T-Rex spoke, his words contradicted his
expression. “I already sent Shott to go grab something high in carbs.”
At least the man had a conscience. If T-Rex would have said no,
Stripper would have had to fight both his commander and Legend. Shott
would have tried to calm everyone down, but there would have been no
calming down for Stripper.
Again he wondered what in the hell had gotten into him. But he already
knew the answer. His bear wanted Wilbur, wanted to protect the man, wanted
to wrap the human in cotton batting and keep him safe from the world.
Shott moved down the hallway with sure strides, a bag held firmly in
his hand. “Deli place a block over. Quick service.”
Stripper met Shott halfway and snagged the bag. “Appreciate it.” He
turned on his heel and headed back into the room, ignoring the strange looks
he was getting from all three men.
Wilbur‟s eyes settled on the bag. “Is that for me?” The guy was
reaching for the bag before Stripper gave an answer. Wilbur turned the bag
over, dropping the sandwich into his waiting hand. He unwrapped it and took
a bite, his eyes rolling back as he chewed.
“Have a seat.” Stripper‟s tone was a little less commanding. “I don‟t
need you falling over and cracking your head on anything.”
“This is so good,” Wilbur said as he chewed. “I don‟t know how you
managed to get this so fast, but thanks.” He backed up and then took a seat.
Stripper watched as Wilbur ate.
“Better?”
“I‟ll know in about fifteen minutes.” Wilbur held up the other half of his
food. “Want some?”
The man just kept surprising Stripper. He held up his hand. “That‟s for
you.”
 Why on earth did Stripper feel better knowing the human was being
taken care of? He hadn‟t felt this way when he‟d tranked the guy and shoved
him into the van. There were no strange emotions when he hauled Wilbur to
the basement and tied him to that chair. He had been ready to torture the
human to get what he needed.
And now…
Wilbur sighed as he finished the sandwich and crumbled the paper it
had been wrapped in. “Thank you… What‟s your name?”
“Not important.” Although Stripper wanted to tell him. He was even
ready to confess his birth name—which no one called him. Gah, he really was
losing it. “Now that you‟ve eaten, I want you to drop your pants.”
Wilbur‟s eyes widened as the paper in his hand crinkled. “You want me
to do what?”
Nicolas Reno had a birthmark on his left ass cheek. It was large and
brown in color. Stripper knew this from the medical records he‟d hacked into.
If this guy didn‟t have the birthmark, then… Well, they‟d take it from there.
“I‟m not having sex with you.” Wilbur stood and backed up until he
was flush against the chalkboard. “You‟re cute and all, but I‟m not that kind of
guy.”
“Not gay?” He couldn‟t keep the sarcasm out of his tone because a flash
of resentment tore through him.
Wilbur‟s color was returning, and it was a deep shade of red. “That‟s
none of your business.”
Stripper pointed to the chalkboard behind Wilbur. “Number one on your
bucket list.”
Wilbur turned and stared at the board as if he‟d never seen it before. He
frowned and then used his hand to swipe at the letters. They smeared but were
still legible. “I was bored and thought you were going to kill me.”
“I still might.” Stripper crossed the room and caged Wilbur in. “Now
drop your damn pants.”
He needed to know. Wondering if this was Reno or Wilbur was driving
Stripper insane. If this was Reno, he was going to take pleasure in killing the
man—after he got the answers he sought.
He wished he had thought of this when he‟d tranked the guy. But
Stripper had been certain at the time that he‟d snatched the right man. Now
only the birthmark would tell him the truth.
“No.” Wilbur crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you think a deli
sandwich is buying me dinner? I don‟t put out on the first date, especially not
a cheap one.”
Stripper leaned in close, their faces inches apart. He curled his upper lip
and snarled his next words. “This isn‟t a fucking date. You have five seconds
to drop them, or I‟ll tear them from your body.”
 Chapter Three

“Something isn‟t right,” T-Rex said as he walked into the office of the
abandoned school.
“Do you really think the guy is telling the truth?” Legend asked as he
strode in behind T-Rex. “Could he really be this Wilbur Castro?”
“Not that,” T-Rex replied. “I mean Stripper. Something has gotten into
him.” Giovani Zoltan—Stripper‟s real name—was one of the fiercest
interrogators T-Rex knew. The guy didn‟t always use brute force, but he
always got the intel he was after. Stripper was cunning and could trick anyone
into telling him what he wanted to know. But as T-Rex had listened to the live
feed playing in the office earlier, he knew Stripper was off his game.
“Could be that Wilbur is his mate,” Shott said so nonchalantly that the
news didn‟t register in T-Rex‟s head at first. He turned, staring at Shott as if
the man had just declared that guns were illegal. T-Rex‟s eyes widened.
“Shut the hell up,” T-Rex said. “Don‟t even joke like that.”
It had been three years since the last person had mated. Rowdy and
Cameron were blissfully happy, and T-Rex was surrounded by mated men.
He, Shott, and Stripper were the last bachelors in the house, and he wanted to
keep it that way. When one of the bears found their mate, they lost their
ever-loving mind.
“He could be right,” Legend said. “Stripper has never gone this easy on
anyone when interrogating them. That could only mean one thing.” Legend
took a seat at one of the desks and kicked his booted feet up. “Time to dig out
the nursery stuff that was stored in the attic.”
T-Rex snatched the office door open and headed down the hallway.
Legend jumped up and was hot on his heels, trying his best to hide a smirk.
“Go easy on him.”
“Like hell,” T-Rex barked. “We have to find out who kidnapped Ms.
O‟Connor and stop Reno before he sells the intel he‟s already gathered. We
don‟t have time for easy.”
He came to a stop just outside the door and peered through the glass.
His teeth ground together when he spotted the two up against the wall,
Stripper looking at Reno as if he wanted to fuck the guy. Their faces were
inches apart, too close in T-Rex‟s opinion.
They were fucked. T-Rex opened the door and stepped inside. “How
does Reno smell?”
Stripper‟s brows furrowed as he turned to stare at T-Rex and Legend.
“What?”
“How does Reno smell?” T-Rex repeated.
“How the fuck should I know?” Stripper asked.
T-Rex was seconds away from shooting the bastard. He wouldn‟t kill
Stripper, but he‟d wound him enough for a hospital trip just to get him away
from Reno. This was a mission, not a dating service. If Stripper really were
falling for the enemy… Goddamn it. “Him.” T-Rex finally pointed at the man
hemmed up against the chalkboard. “How does he smell?”
The guarded expression that crossed Stripper‟s dark eyes said it all. The
look screamed to back down and move away. The lethality in Stripper‟s eyes
was tangible.
“Ease back, T-Rex,” Legend warned. “You‟re talking to his bear right
now.”
“Screw his bear,” T-Rex snapped. He‟d stepped further into the room,
closer to Reno, when Stripper snarled. The guy fucking snarled. Stripper‟s
features grew dark, and there was no mistaking the challenge in the tone.
“T-Rex.” Legend said his name slowly.
“You‟re jeopardizing this mission,” T-Rex said to Stripper. “Get in the
office with Shott. Legend will take over.”
“The hell he will. Now get out of here so I can finish with Wilbur.”
“He‟s not Wilbur!” T-Rex had never lost it like this on a mission before.
He was seething and ready to take someone‟s head off. He drew in a deep
breath and centered himself. Before he could say another word, he heard the
sound of something metal dropping outside the door.
Legend looked at T-Rex before he stepped backward and glanced in the
hallway. When his eyes grew large, T-Rex‟s stomach knotted.
“Grenade!” Legend dove for the floor as T-Rex dropped behind the
desk, shoving it over to use as a shield. Stripper and Reno jerked to the floor
as the explosion detonated. A corkboard fell from the wall. The moldy
suspension ceiling lost some panels as they crashed to the floor. The glass in
the classroom door shattered.
“Shott,” T-Rex said before getting to his feet and taking off. He
coughed through the cloud of plaster and kicked aside destroyed locker doors
as he hauled ass down the hallway. His ears were ringing, but T-Rex was
determined to get to Shott.
“What the fuck?” Shott appeared just outside the doorway, weapon in
hand, coughing as well. “Did that little shit have a grenade in his pocket?”
“It wasn‟t Reno.” T-Rex shoved Shott into the office and slammed the
door. He waited until the ringing in his ears died down before he said,
“Someone doesn‟t want us talking to him.”
 “Either that or security in this area takes their job way to seriously.” The
two moved toward the door, and T-Rex could finally see past the dust cloud.
The hallway was empty, but he wasn‟t taking any chances.
“Pack our shit up,” he said to Shott. “We‟re moving out.”
As Shott packed up the equipment, T-Rex tapped his earpiece. “You
and Stripper get Reno down to the office. We‟re evacuating.”
They‟d been compromised, and his men had nearly been killed. T-Rex
wanted the culprit, and he wanted him or her yesterday. He didn‟t take his
men nearly being blown apart lightly.
Shott had the equipment broken down and packed up in less than two
minutes. Legend had taken the lead as he led Stripper and Reno to the office.
When everyone was in the same room, T-Rex went for Reno. “Who the hell
just tried to blow us up?” His tone was threatening and filled with rage.
Stripper stepped between them, his eyes narrowing. “It wasn‟t Wilbur.”
T-Rex was not about to stand there and argue. He had more important
things to worry about than Stripper‟s impaired priorities. The five of them had
to make it out of the building alive. They had to find another place to stash
Reno until T-Rex could find out who was behind the attack.

****

Wilbur gripped his captor‟s arm with a deadly stranglehold. He couldn‟t

believe he was looking at three more men. Two of them had come into the
classroom. The tallest one had scared the crap out of him. Was his name really
T-Rex? What kind of name was that?
“Keep Reno in your sights, Stripper.”
Stripper. Wilbur finally had a name to put with the face. But that
couldn‟t be his real name. No mother in their right mind would name their
child Stripper. So why was he called that, and why did the possible answer
make Wilbur‟s teeth grind together?
“Uh, should we be using names with Reno still around?” a man Wilbur
had yet to identify said. He wore a short-sleeved shirt and had a tribal tattoo
on his right bicep. The guy was built like a linebacker.
He was very cute. All the men were. He felt as if he‟d stepped into a
room full of GQ militant models. But the best looking of them all was
Wilbur‟s captor.
He shouldn‟t be thinking that way. Wilbur should be trying to find a
way out of this. But Stripper‟s sexy, masculine features were both intimidating
and heart-stopping. The man‟s upper body held perfect proportions, muscular
and ripped. Broad shoulders tapered down to narrow hips and what had to be
the finest butt Wilbur had ever seen in his life.
Wilbur wanted to break a tooth biting the man.
Stripper‟s blond hair was cut short, military style. The color blended
perfectly with the man‟s irises. Light brows slashed parallel to sharp
cheekbones, and the man‟s five o‟clock shadow made Stripper only that much
more scrumptious.
Power and strength bled from every pore of the man‟s body. And that
voice. Wilbur loved a man with a deep voice, and Stripper‟s was a lethal
baritone. It was slightly husky, rich and dark, like the finest black velvet
rubbing against the senses.
Wilbur involuntarily shuddered.
Stripper also had tattoos. What a bad boy. On his left bicep was a
strange swirly pattern. There was a dragon on his right bicep, and some sort of
Chinese writing on his lower right arm. Wilbur wanted to trace them with his
tongue. What the hell had gotten into him? He never drooled over anyone like
this, especially not someone who had kidnapped him.
Maybe he was finally cracking under the pressure. Someone had just
tried to blow them up after all.
When Stripper glanced back at him, Wilbur almost felt absorbed. The
man was tall and dangerous, and Wilbur wondered what Stripper looked like
naked.
Stripper reached up and pressed the back of his hand to Wilbur‟s
forehead and then his cheeks as they silently crept down the hallway. The
man‟s features were masked, but his eyes held a wealth of emotions. Wilbur
was never good at figuring out facial expressions, but he did notice that
Stripper‟s eyes were no longer dangerous daggers. They had softened.
What did that mean?
The men stopped. T-Rex held his hand up. He made some weird signal,
and then the man with the tribal tattoo broke from the group and moved
quickly to the opposite wall. Wilbur bit his lower lip and waited. His heart was
pounding as his grip tightened on Stripper‟s arm.
Stripper patted Wilbur‟s hip and then rested his hand there. This was
very strange behavior for an interrogator. Not that Wilbur was complaining.
The heat from Stripper‟s hand seeped through Wilbur‟s pants. And Wilbur
found himself enjoying the contact.
Wilbur was confused, but he was also aroused. This was not the
appropriate moment, but he couldn‟t help the way his body was reacting to the
closeness of Stripper‟s large musculature. Now that the guy wasn‟t threatening
him, Wilbur could appreciate the delicious-looking man.
 He tried to look anywhere but at Stripper. The man was distracting, and
Wilbur needed his wits about him. Not only did he need to survive whoever
was attacking them, but he also needed to get away from these men.
But he couldn‟t help how he felt. Touching Stripper, Wilbur‟s body
became too sensitive, too warm, as heat began to flare inside of him. Damn it,
he was getting a hard-on just holding the man‟s arm.
T-Rex did that strange thing with his hands again, and then the men
began to move. Wilbur had no idea how to survive a situation like this. He
was going to have to solely depend on Stripper to keep him alive.
Now wasn‟t that ironic?
And here he thought the hardest thing in life was trying to keep a
goldfish alive. Well, that and trying not to destroy the long-standing friendship
between Wilbur‟s father and Mr. Fiber.
Wilbur was jerked forward as the men made a break for it. They took
off through the back doors and hurried down a set of concrete, weed-filled
steps. Wilbur was thrust into the back of a black SUV with tinted windows.
He had barely enough time to scoot over before two more men jumped into
the back with him. One of them was Stripper.
T-Rex took the wheel as the man with the tattoo tossed two black boxes
into the back and then hurried into the passenger side. The tires squealed as
the SUV lurched forward and then T-Rex gunned the engine and the vehicle
sped down the street.
“The glass is bulletproof,” Stripper informed him.
Wilbur twisted his hands in his lap as he watched the buildings race past
him. Now how was he going to get away? He had no clue where they were
taking him.
“But you aren‟t,” T Rex said from the front seat. “Try anything, Mr.
Reno, and I‟ll put one between your eyes.”
Wilbur felt Stripper tense up. The man‟s eyes bore into the back of
T-Rex‟s head, but Stripper didn‟t say anything.
All his life Wilbur had been too kind for his own good. Even now when
he knew he should think of a way to escape, he didn‟t want to go back on his
promise to Stripper. Wilbur needed his head examined. The guy had
kidnapped and threatened him, and all Wilbur could think about was keeping
his word.
They drove through Junction City, crossing over a set of railroad tracks,
and then T-Rex made a left, heading out of town. Wilbur was glad he was still
alive but had no desire to leave town. He had a job, a home, and a life. He
roused his anger and turned toward Stripper, ready to give the man a piece of
his mind. “Could you please tell me where we‟re going?”
 Stripper shook his head. “It‟s not important.”
“You say that a lot.” Wilbur was getting extremely tired of that answer.
He wanted to know what was going on, who Mr. Reno was, and why he‟d
been kidnapped. Most of all, he wanted to know why he was attracted to
Stripper. Could it be Stockholm syndrome? He didn‟t think so. Wilbur wasn‟t
relating to the guy. He just wanted Stripper to jump his bones.
“That should give you a clue.” Stripper was back to his cold demeanor.
Wilbur was ready to sock the man in his nose. Instead, he sat there stewing.
After riding for almost two hours, T-Rex pulled down a dirt road with
rows of corn on either side of it. The road was bumpy and Wilbur bounced
around until the SUV came to a stop outside a rundown barn.
When they exited the truck, the stifling heat smacked Wilbur in the
face. He hadn‟t noticed how hot it was when they‟d left the last building.
Probably because he‟d been too panicked to pay any attention.
He began to sweat, his shirt clinging to him as he glanced around. There
was a large farmhouse to his left and silos just beyond the barn. The air
smelled like cow dung, and Wilbur gagged, plugging his nose. A variety of
farm equipment lay scattered about. He stiffened when a few dogs came
running from behind the house, barking.
“I‟m afraid of dogs,” he said to Stripper. “Do they bite?”
“I have no idea,” Stripper replied. “Why don‟t you try and pet one?”
Wilbur narrowed his eyes. “You‟re not a very nice man.” Which was a
contradiction to how Stripper had acted earlier. The guy was Doctor Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde. One minute he was lethal and intimidating, the next he was
nice and polite. Wilbur was getting a migraine trying to deal with Stripper‟s
multiple personalities.
Wilbur nearly swallowed his tongue when the tallest and biggest man
he‟d ever seen stepped out onto the porch. The guy was even taller than
T-Rex. He wore a cowboy hat, work boots, dusty jeans, and the word Goliath
came to mind.
“Jeremiah.” T-Rex‟s smile was huge as he crossed the yard with his
hand extended. “Long time no see.”
Jeremiah‟s hand swallowed T-Rex‟s as the two shook. Jeremiah‟s
striking pale-blue eyes swung to Wilbur and fixated on him. “Is this the guy?”
Wilbur took a step back. He was pretty sure his nose would come to the
man‟s navel. One of the guy‟s beefy hands would fit perfectly over Wilbur‟s
entire face and a portion of his head. He could mug Wilbur to death.
He tried to shrink behind Stripper as the dogs padded over to them.
Wilbur swallowed tightly as his fingers gripped the back of Stripper‟s shirt.
“Nice doggies.”
 “Get him into the barn,” T-Rex said as the man with the tribal tattoo
unloaded a few things from the back of the SUV.
Wilbur rapidly shook his head. “But I don‟t want to go in there. Can‟t
you interrogate me on the front porch with some lemonade?”
Stripper turned and pinned Wilbur against the SUV. “All you have to do
is drop your pants and we can end this.”
Every single man in the yard turned, their eyes landing on Wilbur.
 Chapter Four

Stripper molded his body to Wilbur‟s. He glided his hands over

Wilbur‟s and then shackled them to the human‟s side.
“I‟m not going to drop my pants for you.” Wilbur‟s voice was unsteady.
“So stop asking.”
Stripper was fully aware that all eyes were on them, and he wanted to
kill every man who dared gaze at the human. He closed his eyes and counted
to ten before pulling in a deep breath. “Then into the barn you go.”
Although he was almost sure that this man wasn‟t Reno, Stripper wasn‟t
one hundred percent positive. He couldn‟t let his guard down. He wanted to.
God, how he wanted to take Wilbur into the barn and fuck him. But except for
the birthmark, he had to be sure who the guy was.
The attraction he felt toward the human was growing, and Stripper‟s
bear was snarling at the idea that he couldn‟t have the man. So was Stripper.
He grabbed Wilbur‟s wrists and pulled the man along.
“Stop!” Wilbur shouted. “That place looks very unsanitary.”
If this was Reno, the man was damn good at acting. Stripper was
teetering on the edge of his control, ready to give in. He yanked Wilbur
through the barn door. The man landed on his ass. Stripper hadn‟t meant to
use that much force. He cursed under his breath and helped Wilbur to his feet.
“Thank you,” Wilbur said as he dusted himself off.
Stripper wondered why this guy would thank him when…never mind. It
didn‟t really matter. Stripper was tired of pussyfooting around. “Show me
your ass cheeks.”
“Show me yours.” Wilbur crossed his arms over his chest as if he‟d
showed Stripper a thing or two. Well, Stripper was about to show Wilbur a
few things. Like the fact that he had no problem being naked. He pulled his
shirt over his head, negligently tossing it to the ground.
“Since when do you have to take a shirt off to show butt cheeks?”
Wilbur backed up.
“You challenged the wrong man when it comes to showing body parts.”
Stripper loosened his belt, the metal clinking as he went for the button of his
pants.
Wilbur threw up both hands as if trying to stop an invisible wall from
closing in on him. “Halt. Halt. Halt. There is no need to get naked. I take back
my challenge.”
The man‟s cheeks had turned scarlet, his gaze darting nervously. Was
he looking for an escape? There wasn‟t one. T-Rex had called ahead and
asked Jeremiah to secure the barn. Jeremiah was ex-military and knew exactly
what that request entailed. There would be no escaping for Wilbur.
“Show me your cheeks,” Stripper said, repeating his demand. “And all
of this can go away.”
“Why are you so adamant about seeing my bare bottom?” Wilbur asked.
“Because Reno has a birthmark. Do you have one?”
Uncertainty crept into Wilbur‟s green eyes. “How do I know this isn‟t a
trick?”
“You don‟t.”
“Then why should I show you? What if I get my pants down and
you—” Wilbur turned a darker shade of red. “You know…want more?”
Stripper licked his lips and smiled. “Then you can cross the first item
off of your bucket list, darling.” He shoved his pants down to his knees. He‟d
gone commando today and was glad he had.
Wilbur‟s head slowly turned to the side, his brows pulling together. He
puckered his lips and then tapped his chin. “I‟m not trying to be rude or
criticize any part of you. You‟re a very handsome man. But—” He waved a
hand toward Stripper‟s groin. “Are balls supposed to be that big? They‟re like
two coconuts hanging from your tree. I feel like they should have an effect on
the ocean tides.”
“Nice, huh?” Stripper palmed his sac and squeezed, groaning as he
thought of how good Wilbur‟s lips would feel wrapped around them.
Everyone always made a joke about his nuts, but Stripper was damn proud of
them. They weren‟t as big as everyone made them out to be, but it was a damn
fine ego boost.
Wait, he was supposed to be interrogating Wilbur, not showing off his
prized assets. “Now show me yours.” He meant that as a demand, but it came
out more like a growled plea.
Wilbur hesitated. “Promise me you won‟t do anything to me.”
“Promise.”
The guy didn‟t look convinced but turned around and slowly lowered
his slacks. Stripper had to bite his lower lip as the two plump mounds were
revealed. They were creamy white, perfect, and…Stripper‟s pulse raced. No
birthmark. This wasn‟t Reno.
He pulled his pants up enough to go to Wilbur and touch, but then his
phone rang. He kept his eyes locked onto that nice-looking ass as he answered
his phone.

****
 Was the guy really answering his phone? Wilbur stood there with his
butt hanging out, unsure if he should pull his pants back up. His heart was
already racing, and now his nerves were stretching raw. Just how long did he
have to stand here like this?
“You have to go to the fifth level,” Stripper said. “No, no, no. Ignore
the things on the fourth. The stuff is worthless.”
Frowning, Wilbur turned. Stripper was still standing there with his meat
and potatoes hanging out, talking on the phone. He had one arm tucked under
the other with the phone pressed to his ear.
“You have to kill the guard dogs. No, don‟t use the Glock. Use the M4
rifle.” Stripper rolled his eyes. “Just watch your back because Crimson King
likes to sneak up on people and kill them when they‟re battling.”
What on earth was he talking about? Guns, dogs, killing people? Just
who was this guy? Crimson King? Who was that? Wilbur wasn‟t sure he
wanted to know. Stripper stood there with his junk hanging out as if it were a
natural thing to do, as if it was something he did all the time.
Wilbur stole glances at the man‟s groin. He couldn‟t help it. That was
the biggest cock he‟d ever seen. Not that he‟d seen that many. But it was
definitely much bigger than Wilbur‟s.
Wilbur just held on to his pants, his butt still hanging out. His skin
flushed with embarrassment as he listened to Stripper talk on the phone. His
eyes wandered to Stripper‟s groin once more. What would it feel like to have
sex? More importantly, what would it feel like to have that thing shoved into
him?
At that thought, Wilbert quickly lifted his pants and fastened them.
Reality had settled back in, and the stench of the barn began to make him gag
once more. For the first time he noticed horses in the stalls. Wilbur took a step
back when he realized he was standing too close to one of them.
“Look, I gotta go,” Stripper said into the phone. “I‟m kinda busy.” The
man paused. “Yeah, well, some of us have jobs, numbnut. I‟ll call you when I
get home.”
Stripper hung up and shook his head while grunting. “Some people just
need to be led by the hand.” He shoved his phone into his pocket and then
glanced at Wilbur. “Why‟d you pull your pants up?”
Was Wilbur really having this conversation? None of this seemed real.
Maybe he‟d fallen asleep at the office and dreamed all of this. But he‟d never
had a dream this vivid before, and he definitely had never dreamed about a
man this handsome. “Do you have proof now?”
 He hoped so because he wasn‟t shown Stripper his butt again. The man
already appeared disappointed because Wilbur wasn‟t as naked as Stripper
was. Was he pouting?
“Okay, look,” Stripper said as he moved forward.
Wilbur shook his head. “Pull your pants back up if you‟re gonna talk to
me.” Wilbur shivered. “It‟s like a python staring at me.”
Stripper glanced down as if he‟d forgotten that his beans and wiener
were exposed. He shrugged as if it was no big deal. “I just want to apologize
for the whole mix-up. Since you don‟t have the large birthmark, you can‟t be
Reno. Unless of course you found a way to get rid of it.”
Wilbur grunted in frustration as he tried to move past Stripper. “I am
not going to go through this with you again. I showed you my butt cheeks. I‟m
not Reno. Now can you take me home?”
Stripper reached out and snagged Wilbur‟s arm, hauling him close.
Their chests collided, and Wilbur found it hard to breathe. He felt Stripper‟s
cock wedged between them, and it was growing thicker by the second.
Wilbur‟s breath came out in pants as he gazed up into Stripper‟s beautiful
hazel eyes. “You promised.” His voice came out breathy as his body started to
mold the Stripper‟s.
“I promised not to touch you when your pants were down.” Stripper
nuzzled Wilbur‟s neck and inhaled deeply. When he looked up, his eyes
seemed to glow. His voice became low and rough. “But I won‟t take you in a
filthy barn. Not for your first time.”
Wilbur‟s very soul seemed to clench at Stripper‟s words. Too many
sensations raced through his body, too much heat and too many pinpoints of
emotions to make sense of. He fought to still his racing heart, to ease the
harshness of his breathing.
Sliding his fingers through Wilbur‟s hair, Stripper gripped the back of
Wilber‟s neck, catching him by surprise as the man tipped Wilbur‟s head back
and lowered his own.
Stripper‟s tongue brushed over Wilbur‟s lips and stroked inside in a
teasing little thrust that had them both catching their breaths when the kiss
deepened to much more than a gentle assault.
Stripper set fire to Wilbur. There was no other way to describe it. The
man made Wilbur burn with need and drown in a hunger to be possessed. His
hand slid up Stripper‟s thick chest as his senses were assaulted.
Wilbur began to open up. He allowed Stripper to explore his mouth as
the man‟s hands gripped Wilbur‟s ass. Wilbur didn‟t want to live with any
more regrets. He‟d sacrificed a lot to make others happy, but he wanted to be
greedy, selfish, and, for once, find happiness for himself. He wanted to be
wild and free with Stripper.
He no longer cared that Stripper had kidnapped him. It had been a
misunderstanding, a mix-up. He wondered at his rationality but couldn‟t deny
the strange bond that seemed to be forming between them. It was as if he
couldn‟t get close enough to the guy. One thing held true though. Wilbur was
tired of living by everyone else‟s expectations. He wanted to throw caution to
the wind and have fun for once, to live in the moment.
“Look at you,” Stripper said against Wilbur‟s lips before nipping at
them seductively. “You‟re a little wildcat, aren‟t you?”
Wilbur shook his head. “More like a tamed pussycat. But I‟ll be a
wildcat if you can show me how.” Wilbur winked at Stripper and said,
“Meow.” He followed the word up with a soft purr.
Stripper‟s nostrils flared before he nodded and dipped his head once
more, demanding another kiss. The heat stoked between them as Wilbur gave
in to the pleasure.
“Touch me.” Stripper‟s voice was strained. “I need to feel your hand
wrapped around me.”
Wilbur was ready to do anything that Stripper demanded of him. The
feeling of pure abandonment was incredible. It was truly sad that Wilbur had
never known passion like this, and all the man was doing was kissing him.
“God dammit!” T-Rex walked into the barn. “You‟re supposed to be
interrogating him, not shoving your tongue down his throat.”
For the first time since meeting these men, Wilbur wanted to kick
T-Rex in the shin for the interruption. His hand had been inches away from
Stripper‟s cock, and Wilbur was half tempted to grab it anyway. Stripper then
yanked his pants up, turned and gave a low, menacing growl.
“At least tell me you got the intel we need before you decided to molest
him,” T-Rex said.
Wilbur felt his skin heat as the embarrassment of being caught settled
in. Stripper‟s hands tightened on him. “This isn‟t Reno. I checked for the
birthmark and it isn‟t there.”
T-Rex‟s eyes dropped to Wilbur‟s ass, and Wilbur had an urge to hide
his backside.
“Are you sure?” T-Rex asked.
“I examined his ass for myself,” Stripper replied. “Aside from being
very nicely shaped, it‟s unblemished.”
They stood there talking about Wilbur‟s ass like it was no big deal, an
everyday conversation. If T-Rex asked to see his bare bottom, Wilbur was
going to lose it.
Instead of looking relieved, T-Rex‟s features darkened. “Then where in
the fuck is the real Nicolas Reno?”
“I don‟t think he fled the country yet,” Stripper said. “We would‟ve
heard if he‟d gotten the codes.”
“What codes?” Wilbur asked.
“Long story,” both Stripper and T-Rex said at the same time. “But we
need to return Mr. Castro to his life,” T-Rex added.
The thought of going home to his goldfish no longer appealed to
Wilbur. He‟d had a glimpse of excitement and was now hooked. He didn‟t
want to go back to his boring, stressful job or his empty apartment. Wilbur had
associates he mingled with but no one he could call friend. As pathetic as it
sounded, he wanted to hang out with the guys who had kidnapped him.
Was he really that lonely? Wilbur tried to deny the fact, but he knew it
to be true. He shored up his resolve and nodded. “That‟ll be fine with me.”
He wasn‟t a loser, and he wasn‟t lonely. He did have a life. As exciting
as all this had been, he needed to go home. That feeling of wanting to be wild
and free was just a byproduct of what Stripper had been doing to him. Wilbur
was a responsible person, and he had obligations. Besides, Wilbur wasn‟t a
wealthy man. He couldn‟t just pick up and go traipsing off after an adventure.
He had bills to pay.
A mask fell over Stripper‟s face as he pulled away from Wilbur. He
yanked his pants back into place and walked out of the barn, shirt forgotten.
“If you‟ll come out to the SUV, we‟ll give you a ride home, Mr. Castro.
I‟m truly sorry for the mix-up,” T-Rex said before he, too, exited the barn.
Wilbur was left standing there, staring at the wide-open door. He
hurried over to Stripper‟s shirt and picked it up. He had intended to return it,
but instead, he shook it out, rolled it up, and then stuffed it into his pocket. It
was bulky, but Wilbur didn‟t care. He wasn‟t even sure why he was keeping
the shirt, but he felt better knowing that it was there.
He strode out of the barn to see the men standing around the vehicle.
Even Jeremiah was standing there, a head taller than everyone else. Wilbur
hated that all eyes were on him, but he kept his stride sure and confident.
When he reached the SUV, T-Rex opened the back door. Wilbur slid in and
clasped his hands in his lap.
To his dismay, Stripper sat up front. The man wouldn‟t look at him.
Maybe that was for the best. It was better that Wilbur left today behind him.
He needed to forget about the excitement and terror he had lived through. It
didn‟t matter that today was the first day he had felt alive.
He was going to go home, try not to kill his goldfish, and get back to his
normal routine. For the first time in five years, Wilbur had missed a day of
work. He was pretty sure Mr. Fiber wouldn‟t blow a gasket or fire him.
Maybe.
Wilbur might even go visit his parents this weekend. At least now he
had something to look forward to. As the SUV pulled away, Wilbur took one
last look at the farm. His eyes flickered over the barn, and his skin heated at
the memory of the hottest kiss he‟d ever had.
The man next to him—the one with the tribal tattoo—nudged Wilbur‟s
leg and then stuck his hand out. “Truly sorry for what happened. I‟m Shott.”
Wilbur shook the man‟s hand. “Where exactly are we?” Since he was
no longer deemed a threat, Wilbur felt it safe to ask.
“Bear County,” Shott answered. Wilbur knew where that was. It was the
next county over from Junction City. He watched out the window as he was
driven home.
When the truck pulled into his driveway, he glanced at Stripper again,
but the man was looking straight ahead. T-Rex got out and opened the back
door, helping Wilbur from the vehicle. He dug into his pocket and handed
Wilbur a card.
“Since we owe you one for this, call if you ever need a favor.”
Wilbur glanced at the card. The company was Executive Bodyguards.
Wow. These men were legit. They were professionals. It made Wilbur all the
more thankful that he‟d come out of this alive. He nodded and pocketed the
card.
“Thanks for not torturing me,” he said and then shook T-Rex‟s hand,
“and for feeding me lunch.”
The man smiled. “You truly are one of a kind.”
Wilbur stood in his driveway as the SUV pull away and took off.
 Chapter Five

Wilbur was on his way to his parents‟ house that following weekend.
He hadn‟t been fired, and his life had fallen back into place as if his
kidnapping had never taken place. But there was no denying that he missed
Stripper something terrible. Every single night he‟d fallen asleep with the
man‟s T-shirt tucked under his head, inhaling Stripper‟s masculine scent.
Too many times he‟d picked the phone up to call the number on the
card, but he‟d hung up at the last second. He needed to forget his adventure
and put that day behind him.
“God dang cell phone,” Wilbur growled as he lifted his phone above his
head and still couldn‟t get a signal. It kept displaying “No Signal.”
He tossed it aside on the passenger‟s seat as he drove. If he didn‟t
believe in not wasting things, he‟d throw the phone out of the window and
watch a semi run it over.
Besides, it was late, and he wasn‟t thinking straight. He needed to find a
cheap motel and get some rest. His back was killing him from sitting for so
long, and his eyes burned from staring at the lines in the road. He wasn‟t sure
a visit to his parents had been such a good idea. They lived ten hours away.
Maybe he should have just called.
He‟d taken off right after work, and now he was regretting not waiting
until morning before he began his drive. But he wanted to spend as much time
with them as possible before he had to head back for work on Monday.
Wilbur told himself that this trip would help him forget Stripper. It
wasn‟t working. If anything, the long hours in his car only made him dwell on
the man. By ignoring Wilbur for the entire ride home, Stripper had pretty
much shown him how he felt. Wilbur didn‟t need someone like that in his life.
He spotted a sign up ahead that had an icon for a motel displayed on the
green reflective backboard. After taking the exit for the motel, he followed the
signs until he pulled onto a winding back road with no streetlights. Wilbur had
to use his high beams to make sure he didn‟t hit any critters wandering across
the road.
The low-lying fog was thick and eerie. The darkness, mist, and
occasional light from a house made for a scene from one of Stephen King‟s
novels. He shouldn‟t be thinking that right now. His imagination wasn‟t doing
him any favors.
Finally, Wilbur spotted a red neon sign flickering dimly in the darkness.
It was like a beacon guiding him to safety. This place was remote and he
highly doubted real creatures existed. Nothing Stephen King-ish would come
after him.
After parking, Wilbur got out and headed to the office. The door
squeaked as he opened it, and a tiny bell jingled above him. A small television
sat on a table behind the counter, the picture snowy and the volume low. There
was a lamp on the counter to light the room, but it wasn‟t very bright.
Wilbur walked across the aged linoleum and glanced around. “Hello?”
There was a creak and a groan and then the sound of shuffling feet. His
pulse beat a little faster. Maybe he should have just slept in his car. He wasn‟t
going to allow his imagination to scare him. He wasn‟t. Wilbur curled his
fingers over the scarred wood of the counter and waited.
After his ordeal with Stripper and the others, he shouldn‟t be scared of
anything. He‟d faced professionals and lived to tell about it, although he had
no one to tell. Not that he would say a word anyway. Those men had been on
a mission, and Wilbur wasn‟t going to blab to anyone and possibly
compromise their work. Not that he could. He didn‟t know anyone important
enough that would care.
There was another groan, and then it sounded as if something had fallen
over.
A mugging? Someone having a heart attack? Zombies? He wasn‟t sure
and was ready to haul ass when an elderly gentleman came around the corner,
cursing as he shuffled closer. “Sorry about that. I knocked over the book I‟d
been reading.”
That hadn‟t sounded like a book falling to the floor. But Wilbur let it
go. The guy was short, as round as a barrel, and had thinning grey hair—what
hair he had left. His face was chubby, and his eyes seemed too small for his
face. He looked like someone‟s creepy grandpa.
The elderly man grabbed a card from the back counter and laid it in
front of Wilbur. The guy‟s hands were riddled with liver spots, and his skin
looked paper-thin. Shouldn‟t his grandson or someone more able to deal with
such late hours be manning the desk?
“Just fill this out and I‟ll get you a room.” The man tapped a pudgy
finger on the yellowing card. “My rates are fair, and the rooms aren‟t fancy,
but they‟re comfortable.”
Wilbur heard a noise coming from the room the man had just ambled
from. He glanced at the doorway and then at the gentleman standing in front
of him.
He gave Wilbur a wide smile, all dentures, and then nodded. “Go ahead.
Fill the card out.”
“I need a pen.”
 “Oh!” The guy‟s smile widened as he searched the counter. “How
thoughtless of me.”
Wilbur‟s eyes flickered back to the doorway, but no one emerged, and
he didn‟t hear anything else. He filled the card out and signed the bottom.
Most places used computers, but he didn‟t see one. There was an
old-fashioned box on the back wall with ten slots. Two of the slots had aging
cards in them. The others held only a key with a large plastic piece hanging
from it, displaying the room number.
This motel was as retro as retro could get. Everything looked as if it had
been frozen in the mid-fifties or early sixties. Nothing was updated. Wilbur
nearly jumped when a cuckoo clock sounded twice. Midnight. He looked at
the clock and could tell it was a cheap plastic replica. It had a layer of dusk
over the top and clinging to the pinecone cords.
“Now let me see.” The man turned and gazed at the keys. He squinted
and shook his head, as if undecided. It shouldn‟t be that hard. There were
eight keys. Just pick one.
“How much are the rooms?” Wilbur asked as he set his pen down.
The man didn‟t seem to hear him. He continued to gaze at the keys as if
they were some kind of riddle to solve. Rooms one and two were already
taken from the cards lying in their slots.
He finally plucked the key for room ten. The guy turned and shuffled
back to Wilbur. “Here you go.”
“Can I have room three?” Wilbur asked. He didn‟t like the idea of being
in the very last room, separated from everyone else. Why couldn‟t he be next
to the other guests?
The man smiled at him and took the card, squinting as he looked it over.
“Everything looks properly filled out.”
Wilbur became frustrated. He just wanted to pay for his room and get
some shut-eye. He‟d been driving for a good six hours, and he was barely
standing upright. Wilbur wasn‟t a late-night person. His usual bedtime was
ten. “How much for the room?”
The man tapped away on an antique adding machine, the noise
sounding too loud in the quietness of the dimly lit room. Wilbur‟s eyes
flickered to the doorway again.
“That‟ll be twenty-five dollars.” The guy turned and smiled at Wilbur.
“I only take cash.”
Of course. Because they didn’t have credit card machines in the 1950s.
Wilbur shook his head in bewilderment as he dug his wallet out. “That sounds
pretty cheap.”
Although he was all for the inexpensive rate, he didn‟t want to slight the
elderly man. Wilbur believed heavily in karma. He didn‟t like taking
advantage of anyone.
“That‟s the rate.” The guy sounded a bit offended that Wilbur would
question him. It was the first chink in the man‟s smiling armor. “If you don‟t
like it, find another motel.” And then he smiled. “But there isn‟t one for
another thirty miles.”
Wilbur thought some very unpleasant things about the guy and then felt
guilty. What if he was senile? Wilbur felt his face flush with embarrassment as
he laid a twenty and a five on the counter. “No, no. Your rates are fine.”
The man handed him the key, and Wilbur thanked him before walking
outside. An owl hooted, crickets chirped, and the mist settled over his skin like
tiny dots of perspiration. He suddenly felt chilled and just wanted to get inside
his room where he could lock the door and chase away the willies.
Getting into his car, Wilbur drove down the row of rooms. His tires
crunched over the gravel before he parked in front of room ten. He left his bag
in the car as he got out. He‟d get it in the morning.
He shoved his key into the lock and had to wiggle it around before the
door finally creaked opened. A keycard would have been so much better. The
room was pitch-black except for the flickering red from the neon sign. It made
the room look as if it pulsed with a heartbeat.
Wilbur slid his hand over the wall by the door, looking for a light
switch. The light flooded the room, flickered, and then died. The hell?
Frustrated, he used the pulsing red heartbeat as light to feel his way toward the
bed. There had to be a lamp on the stand.
And there was. He turned it on, and it stayed on. The room looked just
like the office. The curtains were yellow and smelled faintly of old smoke.
The bedspread was a pale pink with diagonal stripes of red-and-white. The
tabletop had tiny flecks of gold sprinkled throughout and the seats of the two
chairs were made of fading green plastic.
He shook off the feeling that he‟d stepped into some sort of parallel
universe as he closed the door. The room was stifling hot, and there wasn‟t an
air conditioning unit. Wilbur checked the windows and saw that he could open
them. He slid the window as far left as he could and then went into the
bathroom.
There was a window in there, so he opened that one as well. After using
the bathroom and washing his hands at the pedestal sink, Wilbur meandered
back into the room, cut the light off, and dropped onto the bed, face planting
into the comforter. He was so tired that he hadn‟t bothered to remove his
shoes. He just grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his head, closing his eyes
and sighing.
 Thinking about Stripper, Wilbur tried his hardest not to remember the
kiss they‟d shared. But his body became one big, sensitive nerve, heating up
and growing hard as he thought of the way Stripper had held him, how the
man had practically begged for Wilbur to touch him. Wilbur wished he had.
His fingers tingled, and he groaned when he thought of wrapping his fingers
around the man‟s thick cock.
A barely audible noise came from the bathroom. Wilbur tensed as he
strained to listen. Was that…was someone working the screen off the
window? Wilbur eased quietly off the bed and tiptoed closer to the bathroom
door.
Someone grunted. The sound was as soft and faint as wind, but
discernable. Every hair on Wilbur‟s body rose, as if some invisible hand had
just brushed it. He shivered and couldn‟t stop. Wilbur smashed his eyes
closed, knowing for certain that someone was breaking into his room.
He crept as quietly as he could across the dark carpet, heading for the
door. Getting out wasn‟t going to be soundless. The door creaked. His invader
would know Wilbur was leaving. But he had no other choice. Stay and face
whoever was coming through his bathroom window or haul ass and hope he
got away.
He decided to haul ass.
As soon as he made it to the door, Wilbur gripped the handle, took a
fortifying breath, and then yanked the door open. He ran outside and to his
car, slamming the door and locking it before he fumbled for his keys.
A short, silhouetted figure loomed in the doorway. The stranger‟s body
filled the space. Sweat poured off of Wilbur as he jabbed the key into the
ignition and stared his car. The stranger came after him. Wilbur shoved the car
into reverse. The stranger bared his…canines? Did he really have long and
sharp teeth? Wilbur almost froze in horror as he realized he was looking at
someone who looked exactly like him.
Was this Reno? Was this the man Stripper and the others were hell-bent
on catching? Why would the guy be after him?
Wilbur didn‟t stick around to find out. His tires spun in the gravel as he
slammed his foot into the gas pedal. He drove in reverse until he hit the main
road and then spun the car around, his tires squealing as he took off.
Grabbing his phone from the passenger seat where he‟d left it, Wilbur
felt a measure of hope. He had service! He dialed nine-one-one as he drove
like a maniac down the road.
“Stark County Sheriff‟s Department.” The voice held a deep, soothing
baritone.
“Someone just broke into my motel room off of Highway 24!” Wilbur
nearly dropped the phone when the road curved too far to his right. If he didn‟t
slow down, he‟d end up in a ditch. He left out the part about the guy having
long, sharp teeth. He also left out the fact that the man looked just like him.
“The Baker Motel?”
“Yes!” Wilbur‟s heart was in his throat. Who in the hell was that guy?
Why had he broken into Wilbur‟s room? His stomach felt as though a lead
weight had settled inside. Wilbur was a heavy sleeper. If he‟d fallen asleep…
“Now, now, Mr. Castro.” The voice had dropped lower. “Why don‟t
you just pull over and we can work this out? There was no need to run.”
Wilbur pulled his phone back and stared at it in horror. He hadn‟t given
the cop his name. How had the guy known that Wilbur had run? Wilbur tossed
the phone aside when high beams blinded him from behind.
The person was following him. His cell phone rang. Wilbur ignored it.
He spotted the entrance to the highway and took the hairpin turn, smashing his
foot heavily into the gas pedal. His car rocked, as if it would turn over, and
then straightened.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! The high beams began to fade, and Wilbur knew he
was outrunning whoever was after him. The needle on his speedometer pushed
past ninety, but Wilbur didn‟t slow down.
Once he was far enough away from the motel and didn‟t see the high
beams any longer, he picked his phone back up. He‟d stored Executive
Bodyguards phone number into his contact list. Wilbur hated carrying around
business cards.
He dialed and continued to check his rearview mirror for any signs of
his pursuer. There were a few vehicles on the road, but none were gunning for
him.
The phone on the other end rang so many times that Wilbur was sure
he‟d get an answering machine. He started to hang up when someone
answered. “Hello.”
Wilbur was relieved that it wasn‟t the creepy cop‟s voice. It had been
soothing at first, but he never wanted to hear it again in his life. “This is—”
“Wilbur,” the man said. Wilbur tried hard to place the voice, but came
up empty. “This is Shott.”
“Oh, hi, Shott. How have you been?” Politeness was always
appreciated.
“Good. What‟s with the late call? You in trouble?” Shott‟s tone had
taken on an edge, and Wilbur wondered if he should have called. Should he
involve the men again who‟d kidnapped him? He wasn‟t even sure why he
was reaching out to them, but he had no one else to turn to.
“Kind of.” He chewed his lower lip and could still feel himself shaking
from what had just happened to him. “Did you ever catch Reno?”
The phone went silent for a moment before Shott said, “No.”
Wilbur cleared his throat. “I think I found him.”
“Where?” There was some rustling on the other end, but Wilbur
couldn‟t make the noise out. What was Shott doing?
“At a place called Baker‟s Motel.” Wilbur worried that he was
bothering Shott. He didn‟t want to be a needy person and didn‟t want to come
off as one. “I just wanted to let you know.”
“Wait,” Shott said. “Where are you, and how did you run into him?”
“He broke into my motel room and came after me.” With sharp teeth,
but Wilbur didn‟t say the last part out loud. It was too insane to contemplate.
He didn‟t want Shott thinking he was crazy.
“He what?” Shott sounded as if he didn‟t believe Wilbur. “Are you
sure?”
Wilbur wasn‟t sure of anything. This was the second time his life had
gone haywire and he wanted things to go back to normal. “Pretty sure. It
looked like I was chasing myself. Creepy if you ask me. The guy somehow
tapped into the emergency number and answered the call I made to
nine-one-one.”
“He‟s cunning, Wilbur. He‟s got skills that you wouldn‟t dream of. Tell
me where you are so I can come get you.”
“I don‟t want to be a bother.”
“Damn it, Wilbur. This isn‟t the time to be polite. Tell me where you
are.”
Wilbur glanced at a sign he was passing. “Mile marker ten on Interstate
71. I‟m heading south. I just passed the Harbor Exit.”
“There‟s a diner a mile ahead,” Shott said. “It‟s a twenty-four hour joint
called Loose Caboose. I know the owner. Tell Bill I sent you and that you
need help. He‟ll keep you safe until I get there.”
“You want me to order you something to eat?” Wilbur felt awful for
dragging Shott out of bed at this time of night. The guy had a six-hour drive
ahead of him. He felt compelled to do something nice for the man.
“You really are one of a kind. No, Wilbur. All I want you to do is stay
safe until I get there.”
 Chapter Six

Wilbur walked into the nearly empty diner. He glanced around and then
took a seat at the counter. Although Shott had told him to ask for Bill, Wilbur
hesitated. Maybe Reno wouldn't find him here and Wilbur could enjoy a
late-night dinner. Maybe he didn‟t have to bother Bill after all.
The jukebox was playing a song from the eighties, and the diner was
pretty well lit. No one would try anything in a brightly lit diner, right? There
was a menu on the counter in front of him. It was laminated and a bit sticky.
Wilbur glanced over his choices and decided on something light.
A tall, well-built man ambled his way from a single wooden door that
Wilbur guessed led to the kitchen. The man wore an apron riddled with food
stains and a towel draped over his left shoulder. Wiry chest hairs peaked from
under the man‟s collar, and his nose looked like it had been broken once or
twice. He wasn‟t classically handsome, but ruggedly so.
“Are you Wilbur Castro?” the man asked as he set a glass of water in
front of Wilbur.
Wilbur stiffened and glanced at the door, ready to bolt if this man came
after him.
The guy smiled, all white teeth. “Calm down, little guy. Shott called me
and told me you‟d be coming through. He said you were in a bit of a pickle.”
Wilbur snorted. “I‟m swimming in a whole jar of them.”
The man‟s laughter was loud and spirited. His blue eyes lit up like
twinkling stars as he rested a beefy arm on the counter. “He also said that you
were a character and that you and I would get along just fine.”
“I don‟t want to be any trouble,” Wilbur said as he sipped at his water.
“I was on my way to visit my parents. I hadn‟t planned on things going
bonkers.”
“We never do. But life seems to happen,” Bill said. “Besides, I could
use some excitement around here.”
“Then you can have all of it,” Wilbur said. “I don‟t think my heart can
take any more excitement.”
“Nah, you‟re fine. Excitement keeps the old ticker ticking. Sometimes
you need the exhilaration. It‟ll keep you young, and you meet some interesting
people along the way.” Bill winked at him. “Now what can I get for you?”
Wilbur liked this guy. Bill reminded him of a big bear, but a gentle one.
The guy was definitely easy to talk to. Wilbur was definitely meeting
interesting people. He just wasn‟t sure those people were good for his health.
They were dangerous men after all. But that fact only made Wilbur feel like a
bad boy himself. He inwardly snickered at the thought. Him, a bad boy? Nah.
“Do you have anything that doesn‟t involve carbs?” Everything on the
menu looked good, but fattening. Wilbur had struggled with his weight his
entire life. No matter how much he exercised or watched what he ate, he
always had a good thirty pounds to shed. He came from a big-boned family,
where the genetics had been against him from day one. Nonetheless, Wilbur
always tried to eat healthy and hit the gym at least three times a week.
Bill‟s eyes traveled over Wilbur before he shook his head. “Please don‟t
tell me you‟re on a diet. I don‟t see where you need to lose it.”
Aw, wasn‟t Bill such a nice guy? Wilbur appreciated the compliment. It
made him blush a bit before he took another sip of his water. With his ego
caressed, he said, “Just trying to stay fit.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Bill said, his eyes still straying over
Wilbur‟s form. “I wouldn‟t mind asking you out, but from what I hear, you‟re
already spoken for.” The man shook his head. “That‟s too bad. I would‟ve
treated you like my little king.”
Wilbur was at a loss for words. No one had ever spoken to him like that.
He took every word Bill said to him as a compliment. And then Wilbur
blinked and shook his head. “Wait a minute. Who said I was spoken for?”
The owner winked at him. “Stripper laid his claim on you. Wish I had
gotten to you first. You‟re one sexy-ass man.”
Wilbur was going to melt into his chair with all the compliments Bill
was handing out. Was he always this forward with his customers? Wilbur
liked to think not. But he knew he was fooling himself. Bill was just being
nice.
“I‟ll hook you up with one of my specials,” Bill said before he walked
back into the kitchen. Wilbur stared at the kitchen door, and then a small smile
worked across his face. In his normal life, Wilbur was pretty much ignored.
Men didn‟t look at him as if he were delicious eye candy. But Stripper had.
And so had Bill. Even Shott was nice to him.
There were three other accountants in the office where Wilbur worked.
Two of them were nice-looking guys. But they had acted as if they were too
good to talk to Wilbur. There was a law office on the second floor of the
building Wilbur worked in. Some of those lawyers were hot. But none of them
gave him the time of day. Wilbur wasn‟t sure what the people on the third
floor did. From what he‟d heard, they dealt with stock market trades. The
fourth floor held a modeling studio.
Now those guys were drop-dead gorgeous. Wilbur had often taken his
breaks in the lobby just so he could drool over the men who came and went.
He had often fantasized about being one of those models, about being tall and
slender and sought after for his looks.
He sighed as he glanced around the diner. There was a trucker sitting at
one of the booths, eating. There was another guy at another booth, sipping a
cup of coffee as he texted on his phone. The second guy reminded Wilbur of
the traveler, weary, just ready to get home. Wilbur knew the feeling.
He no longer wanted to visit his parents. All Wilbur wanted to do was
take a hot shower and sleep in his own bed. He missed his goldfish, Harry.
Bill walked out of the swinging door with a plate in his hand and a
smile on his face. The apron was gone, and Wilbur noticed that the man had
combed his hair. Wilbur suppressed the smile as Bill set the plate in front of
him. Musky cologne filled the air. Maybe Bill really thought Wilbur
handsome. The guy seemed to have freshened up.
“Let me know how that tastes,” Bill said before he walked to a fridge
and grabbed a container of orange juice. Wilbur looked down at his plate to
see egg whites, spinach, and some sort of white cheese. The food looked
delicious. He took a bite and moaned when the feta cheese melted in his
mouth.
Bill poured a glass of orange juice and then took a long sip. “You keep
sounding like that and I‟ll forget that Stripper has his sights set on you.”
Wilbur gave a small laugh. “Are you always this flirtatious?”
“Only when I see a really hot guy,” Bill answered. He smiled and then
added, “Just so you know, if Stripper ever slips up, I‟ll be waiting in the
wings.”
The guy was too much. Wilbur was really enjoying himself. It wasn‟t
often a handsome man flirted with him. Wilbur was soaking it up. He had no
intention of doing anything with Bill, but the attention was nice.
“Can I get a lemon for my water?” Wilbur asked.
“Honey, you can get anything you want.” Bill walked back into the
kitchen. Wilbur could only shake his head. If he hadn‟t already met Stripper,
he might have considered Bill‟s offer. But Wilbur already knew where his
interests lay. He had been obsessing over Stripper all week. He couldn‟t get
the man out of his mind or stop sniffing the guy‟s dang shirt. It was as if he
was obsessed with Stripper.
Wilbur wasn‟t sure what Shott would do once the man showed up.
Would Shott take him somewhere to hide out? Would he give Wilbur a
bodyguard? Would Wilbur be charged for a bodyguard? Maybe he should‟ve
asked.
Wilbur frowned when Bill didn‟t come back out from the kitchen. He
glanced around the diner to see the truck driver was gone. There was money
lying on the table, and he heard the man‟s truck starting up. The traveler got
up and walked to the men‟s room. The diner was empty.
Scooting from his seat, Wilbur ventured toward the kitchen. He didn‟t
think Bill would mind if he went back there. Easing the door open, Wilbur
walked in. The kitchen was neat and orderly, and he could hear dishwasher
going. But Bill was nowhere in sight.
“Hello?” Wilbur was getting a bad feeling. He twisted his hands in front
of him and walked farther into the kitchen. He noticed the door toward the
back. Bill‟s office? Wilbur walked into the office and gasped when he saw
Bill lying on the floor, his eyes closed.
“Hello, Mr. Castro.”
Wilbur spun to see his look-alike standing behind him.
“It seems our identities have been mixed up,” Reno said. “Which gave
me a brilliant plan.” The man shoved the gun into Wilbur‟s side. “I could take
over your life, and no one would be the wiser. I could finish what I started as
Wilbur Castro.”

****

It had been a long ride, and Stripper grew more anxious the closer they
drove to their destination. He had given Wilbur an entire week, and Stripper
hadn‟t planned on waiting any longer. The man had seemed resolute about
going home, about leaving Stripper behind. But Stripper was pretty damn sure
that Wilbur was his mate. Never in his life had Stripper wanted a commitment,
but in the past week, he had gone insane being separated from the human.
He‟d bitten off everyone‟s head, tossed and turned at night, and had
jacked off so many times to the memory of that kiss that his dick had friction
burns. Whether Wilbur was ready or not, Stripper planned on claiming the
man.
“How much farther?” he asked Shott.
Shott glared at him. “You‟ve asked me that ten times in the past hour.
The GPS on your phone works just as good as mine.”
Stripper leaned sideways and stared at the odometer. He palmed his
face.
“Don‟t even start,” Shott warned. “I‟m already going eighty-five in a
sixty. If I get pulled over, you‟re paying the ticket.”
Maybe it was good that Shott was driving. Stripper would be going one
hundred right now. Wilbur was in trouble, and it seemed like it was taking
forever to get to the human. Besides, Stripper knew how Bill was. The man
was a pure horndog and would be all over Wilbur. Stripper wanted to throttle
Shott for sending Wilbur to Bill. What had his friend been thinking?
Stripper‟s heart lodged in his throat when Shott finally exited the
highway. He saw the sign for the diner ahead. Stripper was ready to jump
from the truck even before Shott pulled into the parking lot. There were three
cars sitting there, and Stripper recognized Wilbur‟s. The black sedan was
parked under the streetlight.
As soon as Shott came to a stop, Stripper jumped out. His stomach
knotted when he gazed into the large diner windows and saw that the place
was empty. It shouldn‟t be empty.
Shott held up his hand. “Something‟s not right.”
But Stripper didn‟t heed the man‟s warning. He was full of fire and
brimstone and headed straight for the diner door. He walked into the
air-conditioned interior and saw a man coming from the bathroom. Stripper
gave the man a fleeting glance before he headed toward the kitchen. Shott was
hot on his heels. As soon as they entered the kitchen, Stripper pulled his
weapon. He wasn‟t getting a good feeling either.
He froze when he scented blood. His bear went crazy, snarling and
trying to get free. Both men searched the kitchen before Stripper headed
toward Bill‟s office.
His hand shook as he reached for the knob. Normally, Stripper was
always calm and cool under pressure. He never shook, and he never hesitated.
He was usually as solid as a rock. Stripper had interrogated many men in his
time and had always remained resolved. He had served his time in Iraq, had
seen battle, and had gone on many missions for Executive Bodyguards.
But nothing came close to the fear he felt at this very moment. He
wasn‟t calm and was ready to beg fate to let Wilbur be okay. In just that short
amount of time he‟d spent with the human, Stripper had become enamored of
the man. Never before had he considered having a family, but in the week that
he‟d spent apart from Wilbur, that was all Stripper had thought about.
His fingers tightened on the knob as he turned it. Shott was on the other
side of the doorframe, weapon drawn. In one swift move, Stripper had the
door open and both men were standing in Bill‟s office, their guns aimed.
Stripper staggered sideways when his eyes settled on the two men lying on the
floor.
He dropped to his knees and quickly checked Wilbur‟s pulse. Shott
hurried over to Bill. There was barely a pulse in Wilbur‟s neck, but the man
was alive. Stripper pulled his phone out and called for an ambulance. He
looked over at Shott, but Shott shook his head, his features grim.
As Stripper talked to the emergency operator, he checked Wilbur for
wounds. Wilbur had been shot once in the chest. Whoever had shot Stripper‟s
mate had missed the heart, but another inch and Wilbur would have been
dead.
Stripper didn‟t want to think about that. Couldn‟t think about that. He
didn‟t want to entertain the idea that he might have never been able to touch
Wilbur again, never taste him, never know the culmination of need that filled
him every time he thought of his mate.
Stripper felt ice in his veins when he thought of the person who had
done this. He was going to find the one responsible and make the man wish
he‟d never been born. It had to be Reno. Wilbur had said that Reno broke into
his motel room. It couldn‟t be anyone else. He was going to find the cunning
bastard and gut the man.
And although he and Bill had never been close, the man had been a
good friend to Shott. The veteran didn‟t deserve an ending like this. Bill didn‟t
deserve to be killed in his own fucking diner.
Reno wasn‟t going to see a jail cell. The man wouldn‟t survive long
enough to see a trial.
Stripper ran his hands over Wilbur‟s short hair. He wanted to see the
man‟s green eyes. What he wouldn‟t give to see Wilbur‟s shy smile and hear
his witty humor.
Sirens filled the air, and soon the paramedics were making their way
through the kitchen. As hard as it was for him to do, Stripper moved away
from Wilbur so the medics could do their jobs.
Shott left the office to talk to the local cops. Stripper couldn‟t handle
that right now. He wouldn‟t have the patience for questioning. Instead, he
followed the paramedics out of the diner and hopped in the back of the
ambulance. No one questioned him. No one asked who he was or why he was
there.
Which was a good thing. Because Stripper was not going to be
separated from Wilbur again. He was now permanently tied to the human‟s
hip.
It didn‟t take long for them to make it to the local hospital. Stripper
followed the stretcher but was stopped outside of the operating room. The
nurse gave him a compassionate smile as she said, “There‟s a waiting room
off to the right. We‟ll let you know how he‟s doing after we‟ve assessed him
and the doctor has performed the surgery.”
Curling his hands into fists, Stripper nodded. He walked to the waiting
area and pulled out his phone, calling home.
 Chapter Seven

T-Rex answered his phone on the second ring. He had been awake
when Shott and Stripper had taken off. For as long as T-Rex could remember,
he had always been a night owl. Even in the service, he could work off of a
few hours of sleep. That still held true. He was now part ranch owner and still
burned the midnight oil but could still be up at the crack of dawn and ready to
start his day. Although he was the oldest man in his unit, T-Rex seemed to
operate on a different level.
“How are things going?” T-Rex asked when he answered the phone.
“Did you guys find Wilbur?” He glanced out of the kitchen window, looking
over the ranch as dawn began to break. T-Rex would never tire of the sight.
The white-capped mountains, the sprawling ranch, or the ranch hands who
were beginning the day. The Big Bear Ranch was prospering, and T-Rex had
fallen in love with the place. He‟d learned how to work the ranch and loved
every part of the job.
He‟d grown up in a strict but loving family. He had always been a city
boy who had fallen in love with the countryside. There was something about
the fresh air and open spaces that appealed to him on every level.
Growing up in the city, T-Rex had learned how to handle himself on the
streets. The military had only sharpened those skills. He‟d always followed a
strict set of rules, and those rules had saved his life more than once. Some of
the team accused him of being insensitive but he had just as much compassion
as the other men around him. T-Rex was just better at hiding it. He had to. He
was their leader, and he always had to keep a cool head at all times.
“That son of a bitch shot Wilbur,” Stripper said.
T-Rex stood there and listened as Stripper talked. His jaw clenched
when he heard that Bill was dead. Reno needed to be stopped. As Stripper
continued to talk, T-Rex left the kitchen. He found Sam and Legend in the
living room. He snapped his fingers and waved for them to follow him.
“We‟re on our way,” T-Rex said as he hung up the phone. He explained
to Sam and Legend what had taken place. “Colton can stay here with the
mates and children.”
Colton had joined them by then and nodded. “We‟ve got too many
ranch hands around here who are bear shifters. Reno won‟t be coming near
this place.” The man‟s tone was lethal.
T-Rex went to the weapons room and gathered a few rifles, handguns,
and ammo before heading to his truck. If Reno tried anything, T-Rex would
blow the man‟s head off. He was sick of the guy‟s game and was ready to end
this.
He waited for Sam and Legend to join him. The sun began to rise and
so did T-Rex‟s temper. He hadn‟t meant to get an innocent man involved. It
had been a case of mistaken identity. But somehow Reno had figured that out,
and T-Rex had a feeling the man was trying to take over Wilbur‟s life. But
T-Rex would end Reno‟s before he let that happen.
The three men were soon on the road, heading toward Stark County
Hospital.

****

Stripper jerked from his chair when the doctor walked into the waiting
room. T-Rex, Legend, and Sam had shown up just ten minutes before. All five
men gathered around for Wilbur‟s prognosis.
“Your husband is one lucky man,” the doctor said to Stripper. Stripper
didn‟t bat an eye at the lie he had told the nurse. He wanted full rights to
Wilbur‟s care, and the only way he was going to get that was to claim he was
Wilbur‟s husband. It was true, in a sense. Shifters didn‟t marry. They mated,
although he‟d heard how Harland—a shifter over at the Triple-B Ranch—had
married his mate.
That was an exception, not the rule. And since Stripper was almost
positive that Wilbur was his mate, he hadn‟t lied.
“Another millimeter and Wilbur wouldn‟t have been so lucky,” the
doctor continued. “With that said, Wilbur is going to need extensive care. The
bullet did tear one of the main vessels leading to the heart. It‟s a miracle he
didn‟t bleed out. I repaired the tear, but it‟s left the valve weakened.”
“What does that mean?” Stripper was trying to grasp what the doctor
was saying, but his head was spinning from the fact that Wilbur should be
dead but wasn‟t. He was thankful beyond words but still terrified what all of
this meant.
“He‟ll need regular checkups and will have to avoid as much stress as
possible. Over time the valve should become stronger, but for now, in
layman‟s terms, treat him like spun glass.”
Stripper fell into a chair, rubbing his hands over his face to hide the
tears that threatened to fall. The stress, the worry, the fears, and the anger were
coming to a head, and Stripper felt his foundation cracking.
The doctor touched his shoulder. When Stripper looked up, the man
gave him a warm smile. “He‟s in ICU. You can go back to see him.”
 Stripper cleared his throat a few times before he nodded and stood. He
followed the doctor back and was led to Wilbur‟s room.
“Let the nurses know if you need anything,” the doctor said before he
walked away.
Stripper stood on the threshold and stared into the room. Wilbur lay
there, unconscious, with a tube running from his mouth. There was an IV in
his arm and wires leading from his body to a machine. The beeping sounds
echoed in the otherwise silent room. Stripper closed the door behind him and
leaned against it, trying to pull himself together. He blinked back more tears
as he thought about the doctor‟s warning. No stress. Which meant Wilbur
wouldn‟t be able to carry a child right now. As badly as Stripper wanted one,
Wilbur came first.
His mate was alive, and that‟s all that mattered to Stripper. He thought
about how his mother had miscarried three times before giving birth to him.
But in bringing Stripper to full term, she had hemorrhaged during her delivery.
He had grown up never knowing her, hearing only stories from his father of
how gentle and beautiful she had been. She‟d sacrificed her own life in order
to bring Stripper into this world.
He wasn‟t going to risk that fate with Wilbur. Although Stripper‟s
father held no bitterness toward him, he‟d grown up watching the man he
respected and adored slowly wither away. There were times when his father
had sat in the living room, listening to an old CD that had been his wife‟s
favorite and Stripper could feel the loss like a tsunami. He never wanted to
know how that felt, the agony of losing one‟s mate.
Pushing away from the door, Stripper took a seat next to Wilbur‟s bed.
He slid Wilbur‟s hand between his as he gazed at his mate. He thought of how
he had interrogated the man and of Wilbur‟s responses, how Wilbur had
offered his sandwich to the very man who had kidnapped him. Stripper smiled
when he thought about Wilbur‟s bucket list. The man seemed determined to
learn how to dry drown in a wetsuit. That thought almost made Stripper laugh.
The man was so damn perfect that Stripper didn‟t know how he was
blessed with such a unique creature.
He sat there for hours, dozing on and off as he held on to Wilbur‟s
hand. He couldn‟t bear the thought of not touching the man, of not being near
him. Stripper had been given a second chance with Wilbur, and he wasn‟t
going to miss out on a second of the man‟s life.
It was almost five in the evening when Wilbur‟s eyelids began to flutter.
Stripper stood, leaning over his mate. He wanted to be the first person that
Wilbur saw.
“Hey, beautiful,” Stripper said softly when Wilbur‟s eyes locked onto
him. Wilbur lifted his hand and pointed to the tube in his throat. Stripper
nodded and pressed the nurses‟ button. “Let‟s see if we can‟t get that out of
you.”
Wilbur‟s hand shook as his thumb rose in the air. A short laugh burst
from Stripper at Wilbur‟s thumbs-up. He caressed his mate‟s cheek as his
throat grew tight.
The door opened, and the nurse walked in. “He‟s awake.” She smiled
and walked over to the bed. As she checked Wilbur‟s vitals, Stripper moved
aside but kept a tight hold on his mate‟s hand.
The nurse nodded. “We‟ll get that tube out of him.”
Stripper watched as she removed it, Wilbur gagging slightly. Without
thought, Stripper leaned forward and kissed Wilbur‟s dry lips. He didn‟t care
what the nurse thought. He knew only that he needed the close connection.
The nurse smiled. “Just keep it at a kiss and I won‟t have to toss you out
here.”
Wilbur‟s thumb rose once again. She gave a small laugh, shook her
head, and exited the room.
“Hurt,” Wilbur said, his voice rough and raspy.
“I know, beautiful. You‟ve just had heart surgery. You‟ve the long
recovery ahead of you.” Stripper kissed each of Wilbur‟s eyelids. “But I‟ll be
with you every step of the way.”
A frown worked its way over Wilbur‟s features. “Why?”
Stripper leaned in, his lips close to Wilbur‟s ear. “Because you stole my
heart.”

****

“No, Mom. I‟m fine. It was a robbery, and I was in the wrong place at
the wrong time. The doctor‟s fixed me right up.” Wilbur hated lying to his
mother, but he couldn‟t tell her the truth. It had been two weeks since he‟d left
the hospital, and Wilbur had avoided calling his parents until now. He felt as
though he should go stand in the corner for lying to her.
“I heard the owner of the diner was killed.” Her voice had risen, and
Wilbur knew she was on the edge of losing it. “I still don‟t understand why
you were there at such a late hour.”
Wilbur tried hard not to think of Bill. When he‟d first heard the owner
had been killed, Wilbur had cried for two days straight. If it hadn‟t been for
him, Bill would still be alive. Wilbur would always carry that guilt with him.
Wilbur wished he could go back in time and decide not to visit his parents. He
had never hated anyone in his life, not even his boss, Mr. Fiber, who was
irritating, but Wilbur hadn‟t hated the man.
He hated Reno with every breath he took. Wilbur wanted to see the man
suffer for killing Bill. He also wanted Reno to suffer for Wilbur missing Bill‟s
funeral.
“Wilbur, are you listening?” his mother asked.
Wilbur rubbed his temple and sighed. There would be no talking to her
right now. She was in full hysterical mode. He had already sat there for five
minutes and listened to her fuss at him for not calling her sooner.
He glanced up when the bedroom door opened. Wilbur still wasn‟t used
to sleeping in Stripper‟s bed. He‟d gone from living at home with his parents
to the home he lived in now. He‟d had two beds in his entire life, and although
Stripper‟s was large and comfortable, it was taking some getting used to.
But what really was taking some getting used to was watching the man
walk around the bedroom naked. The guy never wore any clothes when they
were alone together. Didn‟t Stripper know the effect his nakedness was having
on Wilbur? Every time he saw Stripper‟s nicely shaped ass or his cock, Wilbur
got an erection. Thank goodness Wilbur had a sheet covering him.
“I gotta go,” he said. He didn‟t like thinking of sex when he was talking
to his mother. That was just creepy. “I‟ll call you in a few days.” He hung up
before she could say anything else. He loved her to death, and she was a sweet
woman, but sometimes she smothered him.
“How‟d the phone call go?” Stripper asked as he shed his clothing.
Wilbur forgot to think as he stared at Stripper‟s behind. His fingers curled into
the sheets as he clenched his teeth.
Stripper turned, frowning. “Wilbur, are you all right?”
He tore his eyes away from Stripper‟s nudity and glanced at the wall
instead. “I‟m tired of lying here. Can‟t I go downstairs? I promise not to strain
myself walking down the steps. I‟ll even hang onto your arm for reassurance.”
Stripper looked uncertain and then nodded. “Okay, but one sign that
you‟re struggling and back to bed you go.”
The only way Wilbur was getting back into this bed was if Stripper
joined him with a promise of hot sex. He slid the sheet aside and then blushed
when his cock bobbed freely, fully erect.
Stripper‟s eyes zeroed in on Wilbur‟s cock, but the man didn‟t say a
word. He helped Wilbur dress and then put his own clothes back on. Wilbur‟s
muscles protested after being bed-bound for so long, but he didn‟t tell
Stripper. The man would only make him get back into bed.
He shuffled to the door and waited as Stripper opened it and guided him
down the hallway. Wilbur took the steps one at a time, carefully and slowly.
He was panting by the time he reached the bottom.
“You‟re struggling,” Stripper said.
“No, I‟m not tired. I just take a lot of horizontal pauses. Big difference.
Now show me this big television you‟ve been talking about.” Wilbur started
forward before Stripper hauled him back upstairs.
“I got one better for you.” Stripper led him down the hallway to a room
on the right. There was tons of electronic equipment set up all around the
room.
“What is this?” Wilbur asked as he glanced around.
“The communications room.” Stripper helped him through the door and
then closed it. “They guys leave me alone in here since it‟s the only room I
can let my junk hang out.”
Wilbur chuckled. “You have a sweet way with words.”
Stripper settled Wilbur onto a large pillow on the carpeted floor before
he turned the television on, along with some sort of game console.
“I‟m going to teach you online gaming,” Stripper announced. “It‟s a
great way to pass time and isn‟t strenuous.”
“Okay.” Wilbur nodded. “What kind of games do you play?”
“My favorite game.” Stripper winked at him. “You get to run around
and shoot anything that moves.”
Okay. Wilbur had never played a video game in his life. But if Stripper
was willing to show him, he‟d sit there all day and learn. Besides, how hard
could it be?
When Stripper settled behind him, Wilbur nestled in the V of the man‟s
legs, and his brain tried to go out to lunch. Stripper‟s chest was pressed against
Wilbur‟s back, and the warmth was welcomed. The guy smelled so good that
Wilbur just sat there inhaling deeply, smiling to himself.
“Okay, have you ever played before?”
“No,” Wilbur answered. “But I‟m a pretty quick learner.” And if you
show me how to have sex, then I’m a fantastic learner. Wilbur wished he had
the guts to say that out loud. He‟d been sleeping next to Stripper for two
weeks, and the man hadn‟t made one move on him. Aside from the kiss in the
barn and the one at the hospital, their lips hadn‟t even touched. He was
becoming more and more frustrated by the day. He was horny whenever
Stripper was around, and he needed something done about that.
Wilbur was developing blue balls.
“Then we‟ll start with the basics.” Stripper‟s arms wrapped around
Wilbur so they could both hold the controller, and Wilbur wasn‟t listening to a
word the man was saying. He was too busy wallowing in the guy‟s scent, his
closeness, and the feel of Stripper‟s groin so close to his ass. To have so much
muscle wrapped around him was making Wilbur‟s brain short circuit.
“Got it?”
“Uh, oh yeah, sure.” Wilbur tried his best to pay attention. He wasn‟t
being very successful. He kept trying to inch back so he could feel the press of
Stripper‟s cock on his backside. Unfortunately, every time he scooted back,
his shorts slid down slightly. He was now sitting there with the cool air of the
room skimming over the crack of his butt.
“What are you doing?” Stripper said into his ear, his warm breath
skittering across Wilbur‟s lobe. Wilbur shuddered as his cock grew hard. He
swallowed and shook his head.
“Just getting more comfortable.”
“Would you prefer we sit on the couch?”
There was a thick, cushiony sofa behind them that did look comfortable,
but then Stripper wouldn‟t be sitting this close. “No, I‟m fine.”
“There are different levels to the game,” Stripper continued in a
teacher‟s tone. “There are guard dogs to kill and men and creatures to
capture.”
Wilbur thought about the phone conversation Stripper had had in the
barn, and it all made sense to him now. The guy wasn‟t talking about
assassinating anyone. He had been talking about video games. Wilbur wanted
to laugh at the relief he felt.
Stripper must be a true gamer if he was getting phone calls from other
people on how to play. That thought made Wilbur pay closer attention to what
Stripper was teaching him.
“Okay, I‟m about to unleash you onto the gaming world. Ready?”
Stripper let the control go and settled his hands on Wilbur‟s thighs. His
thick, long fingers sat close to Wilbur‟s groin. Wilbur tried his hardest to
concentrate on what he was doing, but all he kept thinking about was Stripper
moving his hands just a little more inward.
“Kill that guy,” Stripper said. “That‟s Crimson King, and he‟ll shoot
you when your back is turned. Try to take him out early in the game.”
Wilbur nodded and pressed multiple buttons at the same time. He had
no freaking clue what he was doing. He hadn‟t paid a lick of attention to
Stripper‟s advice.
His guy died.
“That‟s okay.” Stripper placed a quick kiss on Wilbur‟s neck, making
Wilbur‟s skin tingle. “You‟re a beginner. You‟ll just have to keep trying.”
Before Stripper could restart the game, Wilbur asked, “Why are you
called Stripper?”
The man chuckled. “I‟m a free spirit, and when not on a mission, I like
to walk around in the buff. I strip every stitch of clothing off as soon as I can.”
“What‟s your real name?”
“Not gonna tell you.”
“Why?” Wilbur asked.
“Because I like my nickname.”
Wilbur set the control down and frowned. “I don‟t like calling you
Stripper. For one, it sounds sleazy. Two, I feel as if you should be carrying a
pole around with you.”
The man‟s back vibrated as he laughed. “Trust me, beautiful. I am
carrying a pole around with me.”
Wilbur blushed at the man‟s innuendo. He had seen that pole and what a
very nice pole Stripper owned. The man‟s cock was thick, long, and very
impressive.
“Please,” Wilbur said. “If you tell me your name, I‟ll tell you mine.”
“I already know your name.”
“I could have been lying,” Wilbur said teasingly. “You‟ll never know
now, will you?”
Stripper‟s smile was amazing. It was bright and made him look
handsomer than he already was. “Fine, it‟s Giovani Zoltan.”
Wilbur nodded. “My name is Wilbur Castro.”
The man laughed and hugged Wilbur. “You‟re too adorable.”
Wilbur would take that compliment. He smiled at the man. “And you‟re
too sexy to be wearing clothes.” Wilbur‟s eyes widened when his thoughts
spilled from his lips. He hadn‟t meant to say that out loud. Or had he? He
wasn‟t sure, but he wasn‟t going to take them back.
“Really?” Stripper‟s tone dropped a level, making him sound husky and
downright sensual. He shook his head and thinned his lips, as if resolute about
something. “No sex. That‟s too strenuous.”
There was something in the man‟s eyes, something Wilbur couldn‟t
decipher. The emotion almost looked like regret. But Wilbur couldn‟t be sure.
“No it‟s not.”
“There are things you don‟t know about me,” Stripper said, his voice
turning serious. “Things you need to know. Things that might be too stressful
to hear right now.”
“I promise not to swoon,” Wilbur said. “I can take it.” He frowned.
“Please don‟t tell me you‟re married. If I call you beautiful, you‟re the only
one I‟m calling beautiful.”
The man shook his head as he splayed the palm of his hand over
Wilbur‟s belly. Wilbur wiggled a little and wondered what was wrong with
the guy.
 “I‟m not married,” Stripper said. “Nor am I dating anyone, involved in a
relationship of any sorts, or the cheating type.”
That was good to hear. Wilbur would have been devastated if Stripper
had someone else tucked away somewhere. “Then what is it?”
Stripper hid his face in Wilbur‟s neck and inhaled deeply. “Can‟t we
just play the game?”
Why did the guy sound so sad? What was Stripper hiding that had
caused his voice to sound so distraught? Stripper‟s hand continued to move
slowly over Wilbur‟s belly in leisurely circles.
“Is it that bad?” Wilbur asked.
The man wasn‟t impotent. Wilbur had seen Stripper‟s hard cock on
more than one occasion. So then what was the problem? What did he need to
know that Stripper wasn‟t telling him?
Stripper just held him and didn‟t say another word. Wilbur sat there
wondering what secrets the man was hiding.
 Chapter Eight

Wilbur was through with being treated as if he‟d break at any second.
He was feeling better by the fourth week at the Big Bear Ranch, and he
wanted a piece of Stripper.
He was on medical leave from work, which ensured he still had a job,
but Wilbur felt himself changing. He no longer wanted a humdrum life. He
liked the excitement Stripper showed him, although he had to view the
excitement from the back porch of the house since he wasn‟t allowed to do
anything strenuous.
But tonight Wilbur was taking a stand. He was going to grab the bull by
the horns and throw caution to the wind. It was well after midnight, and
Stripper was sound asleep, nude as usual. Wilbur began to view what he was
doing as a mission. He would have to tread softly and hope he didn‟t wake his
target.
Not until he was fully engaged and Stripper wouldn‟t have the ability to
say no. Taking a fortifying breath, Wilbur scooted down the bed, coming
face-to-face with his objective.
Stripper‟s cock.
He inwardly rolled his eyes when an internal soundtrack of the Mission
Impossible theme song began to play. Wilbur shut the sound out and moved
even closer to the thick shaft lying against Stripper‟s thigh. He licked his lips,
took a deep breath, and then sucked the flaccid cock into his mouth.
Stripper moaned.
Wilbur hadn‟t a clue what he was doing. He sucked at the flesh, using
his tongue to feel the ridges and wrinkles until Stripper‟s cock began to fill. It
was growing too fast. Wilbur had to use a hand to hold onto the thick pole as
he licked and lapped, sucking at the head because he found it hard to take the
entire cock into his mouth.
Stripper hissed.
Wilbur forwent his secret mission and moved until he was settled
between Stripper‟s muscled thighs. That was much better. He leaned up,
driving the cock as far as he could into his mouth.
“Fuck, Wilbur,” Stripper moaned. “What are you doing?”
There was no way he was stopping to have a conversation. Not when he
had Stripper‟s shaft wedged between his cheeks. Stripper‟s fingers buried into
Wilbur‟s hair as his head tossed from side to side.
Wilbur felt the fire inside of him ignite.
 “Not a good idea,” Stripper said, though his words were choked and
hoarse. He lunged his hips forward, driving his cock farther down Wilbur‟s
throat. Wilbur took it but eased back slightly when the girth became too much
to handle.
Maybe Wilbur shouldn‟t be doing this, going against the doctor‟s
orders, but he couldn‟t spend another night lying next to Stripper without at
least tasting the man. Stripper was too much of a temptation, and Wilbur‟s
resistance went only so far. He‟d held out for weeks and needed to feel
Stripper in his mouth.
There was absolutely nothing strenuous about that.
Suspended between carnal lust and mind-numbing pleasure, Wilbur
palmed Stripper‟s sac, giving the flesh a slight tug. He was no amateur when it
came to masturbation, and Wilbur knew what he liked. He just had to find out
what Stripper liked.
Stripper‟s back arched as Wilbur continued to pull at his lover‟s sac.
“Harder,” Stripper groaned.
Wilbur sucked the steel cock farther into his mouth as he tightened his
hold on Stripper‟s balls, tugging them and rolling them in his hand. They were
a handful, but nothing was going to stop Wilbur from giving his first blow job.
Even though Stripper was doing nothing more than just lying there,
Wilbur still found himself poised on the edge of arousal, his own cock full and
throbbing. Now that he‟d tasted Stripper, Wilbur couldn‟t live without the
taste again. He needed the man, ached for him. It was like a ravening beast
inside of him, a hunger he couldn‟t deny any longer.
The all-consuming need to be fucked washed over him. Wilbur wanted
to know what it was like to have the man buried deep inside of him. He was
determined to find out.
Easing back from his lover‟ cock, Wilbur gazed up into unfocused hazel
eyes. Stripper had been watching him. Warm heat surfaced just below the
skin, and Wilbur hated the fact that he was blushing.
Stripper palmed his own cock as he threw an arm over his eyes. “God,
what are you doing to me?”
Wilbur wasn‟t sure if it was just a figure of speech, or if the man really
wanted an answer. He dipped his head and licked a long path over the man‟s
wrinkled sac. Stripper hissed as his legs spread wider. Taking that as an
invitation, Wilbur mouthed each side as he used his tongue to trace the fine
lines.
“Wilbur.” It was a demand, but for what, Wilbur had no clue.
“Please don‟t make me stop,” Wilbur whispered, a low plea of unstated
desire echoing through his voice as he gripped Stripper‟s cock harder. He
began to suckle at the head, and Stripper ran his fingers through Wilbur‟s hair.
“I should,” Stripper said, his voice tight. “But I just can‟t. God help me,
I can‟t push you away.”
Using his tongue, Wilbur traced a path over Stripper‟s inner thighs. He
nipped and licked until he heard Stripper‟s breath coming out in short gasps.
Wilbur had no idea what he was doing. He was going on instinct alone. But
apparently the man liked what Wilbur was doing.
He dipped his head lower, chasing his tongue over the patch of skin just
beneath Stripper‟s sac. Stripper palmed his balls, moving them aside. Wilbur
dipped his head lower and licked at the tight ring of muscle centered between
Stripper‟s tight cheeks.
“Wait,” Stripper said.
The man swung his leg over Wilbur‟s head and then turned until he was
on his hands and knees. Without prompting, Wilbur went back to bathing the
man‟s tight muscle. Stripper rocked back and forth, his head buried in the
pillows. Wilbur curled his fingers around the man‟s shaft, stroking the hard
flesh as he licked at the man‟s backside. He‟d never done anything like this
before and found that he loved the sensation.
“Close,” Stripper said. “Don‟t stop.”
Wilbur had no intention of stopping. As a matter of fact, he started
stroking the man faster. He stiffened his tongue and pushed it deep. Stripper
cried out as his ass and cock began to pulse violently. Wilbur felt the hot seed
spilling over his hand.
With a deep and predatory growl, Stripper spun and grabbed Wilbur,
putting him on his back. The man‟s eyes seemed to glow as he pressed his
body close. To Wilbur‟s amazement, Stripper was still rock-hard.
“If you feel any pain at all, by god you better tell me.”
Wilbur nodded. “I will. I promise.”
Stripper reached under his pillow and pulled free a tube of lube. Wilbur
wasn‟t even going to ask. He didn‟t care why the man kept it there. All he
cared about was what Stripper planned on doing to him.
It took only a second for Stripper to pull Wilbur‟s pajama bottoms off.
They were floating to the floor before Stripper dipped his head. Heat and
hunger held Wilbur now. As Stripper‟s kiss consumed him, the man‟s tongue
stroking across his, his lips feeling Wilbur‟s, he felt emotions surging inside
him that he wasn‟t certain what to do with.
As Stripper‟s hands moved over Wilbur‟s skin, the man‟s callused
palms and fingers stroking Wilbur‟s flesh, he knew he might not survive the
night if Stripper didn‟t give him what he needed.
He felt the muscles beneath his lips flexing, and pleasure surged
through his body. Stripper‟s lips toured from Wilbur‟s to blaze a trail of fire
down his neck to his chest. Wilbur was so ready for Stripper. So ready for the
man‟s fingers to delve deep inside of him. He whimpered and wiggled until he
felt Stripper‟s wet fingers circling his tight ring of muscles.
Wilbur gasped and opened his legs wider in invitation. It was an
invitation that Stripper accepted. His fingers sank deep, and Wilbur had to bite
his lower lip to stop the cry of unease from escaping. He‟d never had anything
inside of him before, and the feeling was…strange.
“Breathe,” Stripper whispered. “Don‟t tense.”
Wilbur clung to Stripper as the man‟s fingers drove in and out of his
body. He began to relax and then moaned as the pressure turned to pleasure.
“That‟s it, beautiful,” Stripper whispered close to his ear.
As the pleasure continued to race through him, Wilbur tilted his hips
upward, meeting Stripper‟s thrusts. Stripper began to kiss him again in his
tongue was like a lash of pure sensation, licking, stroking, causing Wilbur‟s
body to arch as he fought to get closer to the incredible agony of pleasure.
When Stripper pulled his fingers free, Wilbur felt empty, lost. But that
feeling didn‟t last for long. Stripper rolled him to his side. “It‟ll be easier for
you this way.”
All Wilbur could do was nod. He trusted Stripper and would follow the
man‟s lead. Stripper lifted Wilbur‟s right leg and held it firmly as the man
settled behind him.
Wilbur‟s breath caught in his throat when he felt the blunt head of
Stripper‟s cock pressing against him. His fingers curled into the mattress as
the head popped inside of him. God, it burned. Wilbur blew out a long breath
as he gritted his teeth.
Stripper‟s body shifted, the hard pressure of his cock easing as he pulled
back slightly and then slid forward. The callused tips of his fingers stroked
over Wilbur‟s leg as Stripper kissed a long path over Wilbur‟s shoulder. The
feeling of having Stripper inside of him was nothing that Wilbur could have
imagined. He felt so full, as if he were stretched to the limit.
“Oh god, beautiful,” Stripper whispered against his skin. “So incredible.
I could lose myself in you.”
The room was spinning—no, Stripper was moving. He slid his other
arm under Wilbur‟s neck, and Wilbur felt cocooned. Stripper‟s scent
surrounded Wilbur and sank into his senses. He was overwhelmed by the man
and unwilling, as well as unable, to fight against the pleasure clouding his
mind. But then again, Wilbur didn‟t want to fight it.
“I need more,” Wilbur begged. “I want all of you inside of me.”
Stripper thrust deep, and Wilbur cried out in pleasure. Wilbur rubbed
himself against the broad thickness of the heavy cock throbbing inside of him.
Sharp waves of hunger rushed along nerve endings that seemed newly
awakened, created only to respond to Stripper‟s touch. Sensitized and now
greedy for sensation, his body throbbed and ached for more and more.
The pleasure was so intense.
“You‟re mine.” Stripper growled the words into Wilbur‟s ear. “I‟m
never letting you go.”
“Giovani!” Wilbur cried out as Stripper‟s cock drove deep and the man
consumed him, body and soul. He was being pulled under, branded. Wilbur
gasped when he felt something sharp scraping over his skin. He turned his
head to see long, sharp teeth. He tried to lunge forward, to get away, but
Stripper‟s arms tightened like steel bands.
“Don‟t be afraid,” Stripper whispered. “I‟ll never hurt you. You‟ll
always be safe with me.”
The room seemed to dim as Wilbur‟s fears took over. He shook his head
and closed his eyes, praying. “What are you?”
“Your mate,” Stripper replied. “The one man who will always protect
you, always keep you safe.”
“Even from you?” Wilbur asked.
Stripper‟s strokes slowed before he nuzzled Wilbur‟s neck. Wilbur
fought to breathe, fought to make sense of all of this. Reno had the same sharp
teeth, and the man had tried to kill him.
“I‟m a bear shifter,” Stripper confessed. “And fate has chosen you as
my mate.”
Wilbur‟s heart was pounding viciously as he tried to absorb what
Stripper was telling him. Could the man be telling the truth? Could Wilbur
trust him? As a human, yes. But Stripper wasn‟t human. He looked human. He
acted human. But even when Wilbur had been being interrogated, he had
sensed something more, something raw and dangerous.
“I promise,” Stripper said. “I give you my word that you are in the
safest house on this planet.”
Wilbur nodded. “But I‟m not a very good pet parent.”
Stripper started to laugh and then hugged Wilbur tightly. “I‟m pretty
self-sufficient. Just rub my belly and I‟m a happy bear.”
“O-Okay. But don‟t rely on me to feed you, or you just might starve.”
Wilbur knew he wasn‟t talking rationally, but he had clung to the first thing
that had come to mind. He needed to mull over Stripper‟s revelation,
examining it closely. But most of all, what Wilbur needed was time.
“Feed me sweets and I am yours for life.” Stripper kissed Wilbur‟s bare
shoulder. The man began to move again, faster, harder. The conversation
faded from Wilbur‟s mind as he was once again pulled under and lost in what
Stripper was doing to him.
Stripper shook his head back and forth, growling low. Wilbur didn‟t
understand what the man was doing. It was as if Stripper were fighting against
something. “What is it?”
When Stripper‟s eyes snapped open, the hazel coloring in the man‟s
irises was sharp and dark. “I can‟t.” The man‟s voice was rough.
“Can‟t what?”
A deep, menacing growl ripped from Stripper before he flipped both of
them, Wilbur landing on his hands and knees. “Bite you,” Stripper answered
before he pounded his cock into Wilbur‟s body. Wilbur‟s shoulders fell to the
bed as his fingers gripped the headboard.
The sensations had the power to bring Wilbur to release. His back
bowed as he cried out, spilling his seed beneath him. Stripper‟s fingers
gripped Wilbur‟s hips as his rhythm sped up. The sound of skin clapping
echoed in the room before Stripper shouted Wilbur‟s name, and his thrusts
became uncoordinated as he buried himself inside Wilbur‟s body. Stripper‟s
cock pulsed, filling Wilbur with the man‟s seed.
Wilbur collapsed to the bed, Stripper following him down. Stripper
cursed softly before he curled his body around Wilbur‟s, holding him tightly.
He had no idea what his lover was fighting. But whatever it was, it had
Stripper holding on to Wilbur as if Wilbur would vanish at any second.
 Chapter Nine

Sam, Shott, and Mason sat in a van disguised as a plumbing vehicle as

they watched the house across the street. Sam hadn‟t approved of the civilian
coming along, but they were shorthanded. Although Mason had been in only
the reserves, at least he had some sort of training. The ranch hand was large
and lumbering, and Sam hoped that was in their favor.
They had gotten word that Ms. O‟Connor was being held in this
residential home. Sam sure as shit hoped their intel was accurate. They
couldn‟t leave the van running, which meant it was hotter than hell in the
back. He was sweating his ass off as he sat there with the headset on.
So far they hadn‟t caught up with Reno. Although the man had
threatened to take over Wilbur‟s life, Reno hadn‟t shown at Wilbur‟s home or
job. It was if the man had vanished into thin air. Sam knew they were running
out of precious time.
“What‟s for dinner?” Shott asked as he stared out of the binoculars.
Sam turned, his brows furrowed. “How the hell should I know? I‟m
kinda busy at the moment.”
“A juicy steak would be nice,” Mason commented. The man licked his
lips as he tapped away on his laptop. “With some caramelized mushrooms and
onions. Damn, I‟m making myself hungry.”
Sam gazed over the man‟s large frame. “You look like you eat all the
time.”
Shott snorted. “He could probably eat a whole cow in one sitting.” Shott
narrowed his eyes. “You haven‟t been eating our cattle, have you?”
Sam rubbed a hand over his chin. “Rowdy did mention something about
some missing cattle.”
Mason stopped tapping as he narrowed his eyes. “If I was eating your
cattle, you would notice.”
“I don‟t know,” Shott said. “Maybe you‟re eating the Triple-B‟s
livestock.”
“They breed horses,” Mason argued. “People don‟t eat horses.”
“If they‟re hungry enough,” Sam said. “You just admitted you were
hungry.”
Mason didn‟t fluster easy, and Sam liked that about the man. Mason
jabbed a finger toward Shott. “He‟s the one that brought up food. Now I‟m
starving. Maybe I will eat a couple cattle and some horses. While I‟m at it,
why don‟t I just poach a few deer and skin a few bears?”
 Sam chuckled. “Just giving you a hard time, Mason.”
The man grunted as he went back to tapping at his laptop. Sam could
see the smirk on Shott‟s face. They were all bored out of their ever-loving
minds. There was a cleaning company at the house they were watching, and
Sam and the others were waiting until the driveway was empty before they
moved in.
“Got activity,” Shott said. “Cleaning crew is leaving.”
Mason closed laptop as Sam removed his headset. He grabbed his gun
off the small table and shoved it in the back of his waistband. The three waited
until the car had pulled from the driveway and was halfway down the block
before they exited the van. They were dressed in blue jumpsuits with a fake
company logo on their backs.
Mason carried the heavy equipment while Sam had a clipboard in his
hand. They moved up the driveway, and then Shott disappeared around the
back of the house. Sam knocked on the side door and then glanced around
before he picked the lock.
Sam noticed a light and airy scent as he and Mason walked inside.
Maybe he should hire that same cleaning company because the house smelled
and looked great. He could still smell the light fragrance of dryer sheets.
As if he knew what Sam was thinking, Mason picked up a business card
off the counter and handed it over. Sam glanced at it and smiled. It was the
cleaning company‟s business card. He shoved it into his overall pocket before
he unzipped the long zipper, reached inside, and pulled his weapon free.
He took the lead since Mason didn‟t have a gun. The man was there for
muscle and muscle only. Mason‟s job was to grab Ms. O‟Connor and get her
out of there if shit went south.
Sam did a sweep of the kitchen and living room to find the two rooms
clear. They were tastefully decorated, almost as if this house was nothing
more than a showpiece. As he glanced around, he noticed there were no
family photos on the wall or mantel. There was nothing in the two rooms that
made this place personal or cozy. Everything was white, pristine, and sterile.
Sam liked the McMaster place. Toys might be scattered around, shoes
cluttering the front hallway, and loud kids everywhere, but that‟s what made it
a home. Controlled chaos.
This was just a house. It was lifeless. Magazines weren‟t scattered
around, the TV wasn‟t blaring loudly, and there was no noise coming from the
kitchen, indicating that dinner would soon be ready. He might like the way the
place smelled, but that was it.
He turned when Mason tapped him on the shoulder. Sam glanced to
where the man pointed. He didn‟t understand what Mason was pointing at
until he saw something caught under the wall. Under the baseboard.
Shott moved down the hallway and gave Sam a quick nod, telling him
that the back of the house was clear. Moving closer to the wall, Sam bent and
pulled a small slip of paper free. It was a receipt. He glanced over it, but there
were ordinary items listed. But it wasn‟t the paper that intrigued him. He slid
his hand over the wall, trying to figure out if there was some sort of hidden
entryway.
Shott began to do the same. Mason walked back to the living room and
kept an eye on the streets outside.
“Here,” Shott said.
Sam looked to see a slight break in the paneling. Shott pushed at the
paneling, and a section of the wall slid aside. It wasn‟t a large piece, but big
enough for a person to walk through.
“Son of a bitch,” Sam muttered. He was gazing into a hidden room. The
area was maybe ten by ten, not big at all. The walls were bare, the wooden
slats showing. There was a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling with a pull
chain attached. Sam reached out and pulled the chain and then gasped in
horror when he saw the mattress lying on the floor and a woman bound at her
wrists and ankles lying there. Bruises covered her from head to toe.
“It looks like he tried to beat the information out of her.”
Shott‟s jaw was clenched tight, his words growled. Sam had started to
enter the room when he heard something that sounded like a wristwatch. It
was a low and barely discernible tick.
Shott swung toward Sam, his eyes wide. “The room is rigged.”
Sam quickly shoved his weapon into the pocket of his overalls before
he leapt forward and grabbed the woman from the mattress. She was
unconscious and barely breathing, but Sam didn‟t have time to check her over.
“Mason, get the fuck out of here,” Shott yelled. “Bomb!”
The three hauled ass out the side door, down the driveway, and past
their plumbing van. They were halfway down the block when the house
exploded. Sam fell forward but turned at the last second to take the full impact
of the fall. He glanced back to see flames licking the sky, debris everywhere.
He glanced over at the other two men. “Shott, go get the van. We need
to get this woman to the hospital.”
Shott nodded as he took off down the street. Mason helped Sam to his
feet. The ranch hand stared at the woman and shook his head. “I don‟t get how
anybody could do that to another person.”
Sam agreed. “We might be bear shifters, but you‟d be amazed at the
monsters that live in this world.”
He cradled the woman to his chest as Shott drove up in the van. Mason
opened the side door, and Sam crawled in. They took off toward the hospital,
leaving the wreckage behind.
If it was the last thing Sam did, he was going to find Reno. There were
just some men who didn‟t deserve to live. And Nicolas Reno was one of them.

****

After Stripper helped Wilbur from the truck, they walked up a stone
sidewalk and passed a well-manicured flowerbed. Stripper held the door open
for Wilbur as they entered the interior of the doctor‟s office. The inside was
bathed in calm colors of tan and cream, and the receptionist was an attractive
brunette. Shelly. Stripper had gotten to know her name from the previous
visits.
“Hello, Mr. Castro, Mr. Zoltan.” She grabbed a chart from her desk and
stood. “Have a seat and I‟ll let the doctor know you‟re here.”
Stripper hated coming here. He always felt like he was the one going to
be examined. For some strange reason, he had a fear of doctors. Technically, it
was a fear of needles. Growing up, his father always had to wrestle him to get
him into the truck. Stripper was like an animal who knew it was going to the
vet. He tried to hide, run, and even bribe his father to cancel the appointment.
After taking a seat in the exam room, Stripper‟s leg started to bounce
nervously. He grabbed a magazine on housekeeping from the table just so he
could try and occupy his mind.
Wilbur was no better. The guy paced like he was an expectant father.
The man‟s eyes shot to the exam room door a thousand times as his hands
went from his pockets to behind him then fell to his sides, only for the process
to repeat again.
It might have been Stripper‟s imagination but he swore he smelled
antiseptic, like they were in the hospital. And that was the strange thing.
Hospitals didn't freak him out. Only the doctor‟s office.
“Why is he taking so long?” Wilbur stopped his pacing to ask. Stripper
checked his watch and groaned. It had been only three minutes. This was
going to take forever.
“Come have a seat.” He hated to watch Wilbur pace. Stripper didn‟t like
the fact that the man was nervous, and his pacing only frazzled Stripper‟s
nerves. The carpet should be worn under Wilbur‟s feet. They‟d had numerous
visits, and the man paced every time.
Stripper went back to looking over the magazine and found himself
reading an article on how to keep flowers fresh. Anything was better than
sitting there staring at the exam room door.
“I feel fine,” Wilbur said. “I don‟t see why I have to keep coming here.”
“We need to make sure your heart is doing okay,” Stripper reminded
Wilbur, although he was ready to bolt at any second. He kept envisioning the
doctor coming out with a three-foot syringe in his hand, laughing malevolently
as he chased Stripper around the waiting area.
Wilbur tapped his chest. “Ticker‟s fine. Can we go now? I feel a rash
coming on.”
As with all the other previous visits, Stripper had to put his own fears
aside in order to calm Wilbur down. If he didn‟t, the man would try to ease
from the waiting room and take off. It seemed they shared the same fears
when it came to the doctor‟s office.
Stripper tossed the magazine aside and stood, grabbing Wilbur as the
man passed him. Wilbur was chewing on his lower lip, sweat already
gathering over his brows. “It‟s just a checkup, beautiful. There‟s nothing to
worry about, and I‟ll be at your side the entire time.”
“This office is so small.” Wilbur pulled at the collar of his shirt as his
gaze darted around. “Why can‟t we just go and get some ice cream? I like ice
cream. It‟s a hot enough day to enjoy it. We don‟t have to waste our time
here.”
Stripper hugged Wilbur and chuckled lightly. It seemed Wilbur‟s fear
was much worse than his. He was half-tempted to give in when the door
opened and the doctor smiled at them.
“Gentlemen.”
He stepped aside to allow Stripper and Wilbur to pass him. They were
taken down a short hallway and shown into the last door on the right. Wilbur
hopped up onto the exam table as Stripper took a seat next to the table. The
doctor sat at the counter in his tall swivel stool as he glanced over a file in his
hands.
Stripper and Wilbur glanced at each other a few times as they waited for
the doctor to speak. Wilbur had gone to the hospital the week before and had
tests run, and now they were waiting for the results. Stripper hated waiting.
Patience was not one of his strong points.
“Have you been having any problems, Wilbur?” the doctor asked. “How
do you feel?”
“Fine,” Wilbur said. “I watch what I eat, do the exercises you
recommended, and my blood sugar levels have been stable.”
“Good,” the doctor said, but Stripper didn‟t like the frown the doctor
wore as he continued to read the file. Doctor Brown usually had a smile on his
face whenever Wilbur was there. He thought Wilbur was the funniest man
he‟d ever met. But today that smile was absent. The man‟s glasses were
perched at the end of his nose, his thick blondish-grey brows pulled down so
severely that they should have touched.
“No fevers, loss of breath, or anything else that was on the list of things
to watch out for?” the doctor asked.
Wilbur shook his head. “No.”
The doctor finally set the file aside and turned. “Let‟s listen to your
heart.”
“Wait.” Stripper stood as well. “What aren‟t you telling us?”
Wilbur‟s eyes darted from Stripper to the doctor. “Is there something
wrong, Doctor Brown?” Wilbur began to shake, and Stripper slid his arm
around his mate, pulling him close to comfort not only Wilbur but also
himself.
If the doctor had bad news, Stripper wanted to be holding Wilbur when
the man crumbled.
“That‟s just it.” The doctor scratched at his hair. “The tests came back
negative, except for one. Your blood work is off. Your estrogen levels are
through the roof, yet you don‟t have any signs that your body seems to know
this.”
Stripper shook his head. “I don‟t follow.”
“Simply put,” the doctor said, “too much estrogen in a man isn‟t a good
thing. It can lead to chronic diseases. But like I said, all of Wilbur‟s tests came
back negative. It‟s as if his body is preparing him for something.”
Stripper held the shock in check. He kept his face masked as he stared
from the doctor to Wilbur. It couldn‟t be. He hadn‟t bitten the man. There was
no way Wilbur‟s body was changing in order to carry a child. All shifters had
to bite their mates in order for their mate to conceive. That was a known fact
among their kind.
Stripper needed to get Wilbur to Doctor Gallagher, the shifter physician.
There had to be a logical explanation for all of this.
The doctor finally smiled. “But since he seems fit, we‟ll just monitor
him a little more closely.”
After Wilbur‟s exam, Stripper led his mate back to the truck. But before
he got in, he called Gallagher.
“I need to see you right away.” He explained what Doctor Brown had
told him and Wilbur.
“Come into my office. I‟ll make time to see you,” Gallagher said.
“On my way.” Stripper hung up the phone and gazed at his mate who
was sitting in the passenger‟s seat, messing with the channels on the radio.
Wilbur was oblivious to the potential threat, and Stripper wanted to keep the
man that way until he had concrete answers. There was no need in scaring
Wilbur.
But fuck if Stripper wasn‟t terrified.

****

“Intel just came in,” T-Rex said as he entered the kitchen where Shott
and Sam were standing. Sam was stirring a pot of something that smelled
good and Shott was begging for a taste. “Might have a lead on Reno. Colton is
working another assignment, and Legend is meeting with a client. Take
Mason with you. He seemed to do so well last time.”
Sam turned the burner down to simmer and then pointed to the pot.
“Stir every ten minutes and then take it off the fire in about twenty. Don‟t eat,
sample, or sip from it.”
T-Rex nodded, waited until Sam had left the room, and then grabbed the
wooden spoon off the stove. He lifted the lid and dipped the spoon. God, it
smelled good. He took a taste and then froze. He spun, ran toward the sink,
and then rinsed his mouth out.
Sam walked back in, laughing. “I told you not to taste it. I‟m brewing
an all-natural detergent for Chris. He keeps breaking out, and Gallagher thinks
it‟s the detergent. But no worries, it won‟t make you sick.”
T-Rex glanced at the scrub brush sitting on the back of the sink and
considered using it on his tongue. Now his mouth tasted like lavender. He was
going to kill Sam. The man knew no one could resist stealing samples of
whatever he was cooking.
T-Rex was wiping his towel over his tongue when his phone vibrated.
He checked his text messages to see that Jeremiah had left a message. He‟d
recruited the man to help with Reno. It seemed Reno was on the move.
“Let‟s go.”
“I thought you weren‟t coming,” Sam said.
“Reno might be heading out of Junction City. I want to be there when
we catch his ass.” T-Rex thought of all the damage Reno had caused, and he
wanted to be the first one to torture the man. That usually wasn‟t his style, but
Reno deserved no less.
Sam, Shott, and Mason met him by his SUV, and the four took off
toward Junction City. It was a long ride, and T-Rex hoped they made it there
before Reno slipped away. Jeremiah would try and stop the man, but even
given Jeremiah‟s large size, Reno was a force to be reckoned with. He was too
cunning and too desperate at this point to be stopped. There was no telling
what he might do to Jeremiah, and T-Rex wasn‟t going to have another death
on his hands.
Ms. O‟Connor was recovering in the hospital, but she wouldn‟t talk to
anyone. She‟d refused T-Rex‟s visit, and the nurses wouldn‟t go against the
woman‟s wishes. She did say that Reno hadn‟t gotten the codes from her, but
that‟s all she would say. T-Rex wasn‟t going to push. She‟d been through
enough.
T-Rex guzzled down the water he‟d brought with him, still trying to get
the taste of lavender out of his mouth when they‟d reached Jeremiah. The
mountainous man was sitting in his beat-up truck outside an office building.
As soon as he‟d spotted them pulling up, he got out.
The man lumbered toward them and then stopped at T-Rex‟s window.
“He‟s still inside.”
T-Rex looked at the monument sign outside the glass-and-chrome
building to see that they were parked in front of a law firm. Was Reno
consulting with his lawyer? Nothing was going to keep the man out of jail.
He‟d killed a guy, had nearly killed Wilbur, tortured a woman, and committed
corporate espionage. The man was going away for a long time.
“I went inside and checked the directory,” Jeremiah said. He wasn‟t
wearing his usual farm clothes. Today he was dressed in a suit, and damn if
the man didn‟t look good. Not that Jeremiah was his type, but the man cleaned
up nicely. “The offices are mainly used by the law firms, but the fifth floor is
used by a small software company. I chatted it up with a blond at the front
desk, and she tells me that the software company specializes in breaking
encrypted codes.”
“He‟s probably meeting with someone to buy one of those programs,”
T-Rex said. “Reno wouldn‟t trust anyone to break the codes for him.”
“Then I suggest we grab him before he can use the program,” Jeremiah
said.
“No, I don‟t want you involved any more than you have to be,” T-Rex
said. “Thanks for leading us to him, but go home, Jeremiah. You were a navy
cook. You didn‟t deal in counterintelligence.”
“But I was having so much fun.” Jeremiah winked at him. “I do need to
get back. I have a ton of things I need to get done.”
T-Rex thanked the man and then sat back, waiting for Reno to emerge
from the building.
 Chapter Ten

“Wilbur, I can explain,” Stripper said as Wilbur sat there staring at the
doctor as if the man had lost his ever-loving mind. Just what kind of crackpot
doctor was this?
“What‟s there to explain?” Wilbur asked. “The man you brought me to
just said I was pregnant. He‟s obviously off his meds.”
“It‟s true,” Doctor Gallagher said. “It‟s rare that a male can become
pregnant when not bitten by his mate. But I think with the surgery and the
meds you‟re taking, your body chemistry changed, allowing you to conceive
when you and Giovani had sex.”
“Do you understand what he‟s saying?” Stripper asked Wilbur.
He should have known better than to think this sexy man was sane.
Weren‟t all good-looking men either taken, straight, or nutty as hell? And here
he‟d started to believe Stripper when the man said he was a bear. Wilbur was
probably just high off of his meds when he saw those sharp teeth, but that
didn‟t explain Reno‟s. Then again, Wilbur had been scared out of his mind
back at that motel.
He, more than likely, had imagined Reno having long canines.
Wilbur patted Stripper‟s chest and smiled at his lover. “Don‟t mind me.
I‟m just doing the calculations on how full of shit both of you are.”
“Wilbur!” Stripper looked stunned.
“I‟ll be out in the hallway,” Doctor Gallagher said. “Let me know if you
need anything.”
“I need you to get back on your meds,” Wilbur said to the doctor as the
man left the room.
“That was rude,” Stripper said.
Wilbur hopped off of the exam table and began to dress, giving Stripper
his back. He didn‟t care what the doctor said or what the tests indicated. He
wasn‟t pregnant. That wasn‟t possible. He tucked his feet in his shoes and
headed for the door. Before he walked out, he turned to Stripper and said,
“You know, everyone has a right to be a little nutty, but you‟re abusing the
privilege.”
He was going to have to move back home. Wilbur would finish
recovering there and just take his chances with Reno. If Stripper thought him
pregnant, then the man was totally off his rocker.
Wilbur breezed past the doctor, gave a polite smile, and hauled ass
before the man diagnosed Wilbur with something else, like parvovirus.
 The man was a quack.
He made it to the parking lot and frowned. Damn it. Stripper had driven
him here, and Wilbur lived in Junction City. He was going to have to ask the
guy for a ride home. It kind of made his dramatic exit less effective now that
he had to wait in the parking lot.
Too bad he couldn‟t peel rubber from this place. That would have been
a nice touch. Instead, he leaned against Stripper‟s truck and waited for the guy
to come out.
It didn‟t take long. “Wilbur, will you listen for a second?”
“No.” Wilbur crossed his arms over his chest. “I might have liked
hanging out with you because you were fun and exciting, but now you‟re
asking me to cross into the weird and supernatural. It‟s time I got off this
crazy train and took my ass home.”
“You‟re just full of sarcasm, aren‟t you?”
Wilbur shrugged. “My soul was removed to make room for it.” He
kicked his toe into the pavement and cursed the fact that he‟d fallen in love
with Stripper. He should have known, with a name like that, the guy was
trouble. He bet fate was getting a good laugh at him right now. Wilbur had
drooled over handsome men since he‟d realized he was gay. Now that he
finally had a hot guy to call his own, he found that he‟d gotten a mental one.
Wilbur turned slightly so Stripper wouldn‟t see the tears threatening to
spill. The thought of breaking up with Stripper hurt so damn badly that he
wanted to curl into a ball and cry, but he‟d wait until he was home for that.
And here he thought he‟d finally found someone who understood him, who
accepted him. The center of his chest ached so much it felt as if something
were crushing him.
“Wilbur.” Stripper stepped closer, cocooning Wilbur against the truck.
His hands framed Wilbur‟s face as he smiled. “If I can prove to you that I‟m
telling the truth, will you listen to me then?”
He tried to move away, but Stripper was standing too close, holding
him in place. The man tilted Wilbur‟s head back until he was staring into
those gorgeous hazel eyes. He felt as if he were staring into his very own soul.
“Come with me.” Stripper grabbed Wilbur‟s hand and led him behind
the small clinic. There were woods lining the edges and a large Dumpster. A
few cars were parked back there as well. He should have been scared to follow
Stripper after finding out he wasn‟t playing with all his marbles, but he still
trusted the guy. Maybe Wilbur was nutty as well.
When Stripper led him toward the woods, Wilbur tried to pull his hand
away. “What are you doing?”
Stripper held firm to Wilbur‟s hand. “Showing you that I‟m a bear.”
 This should be interesting. Wilbur was expecting the guy to grunt a lot
and maybe roll around on the ground, but what he hadn‟t expected was for
Stripper to start taking his clothes off.
“You want to have sex in the woods?” Wilbur wasn‟t sure that was a
good idea.
Stripper winked at him as his blond hair glistened in the sun. “No, I
don‟t want to ruin my clothes. The truck has leather seats and certain parts
would stick to the leather.”
Made sense.
As soon as the guy was naked, Wilbur‟s cock began to fill. He couldn‟t
help it. Stripper was one hell of a gorgeous man to look at—especially when
he was naked. The guy was all thick lines, perfect proportions, and cut in all
the right places.
Wilbur licked his lips, remembering how good Stripper tasted in his
mouth. The man chuckled and shook his head, reminding Wilbur of a shy,
innocent boy. But Stripper was anything but. The guy fucked like a dream and
had seen too much in life to ever be considered either innocent or a boy. But
that was how he looked to Wilbur.
“Okay,” Wilbur said as he tossed his hands in the air. “Change into a
fierce bear.” He was going to take Stripper back inside when this was over and
see if he couldn‟t schedule the man a psych appointment. Maybe with the right
amount of meds, Stripper could be normal.
“And if I shift, what do I get?” Stripper asked as he moved farther back
into the woods. Stupidly, Wilbur followed.
Wilbur tapped his chin, trying to think of something good. Stripper
wasn‟t going to shift into a bear, so he had to make sure this bargain was
worth his while. “If you shift, I‟ll believe anything you tell me. No
arguments.”
Stripper nodded, seeming pleased.
“But if you don‟t,” Wilbur continued, “then—” He started to say he
wanted to go home and Stripper to never contact him again. But Wilbur
couldn‟t push the words past his lips. He couldn‟t bring himself to sever the
bond between them. The pain of never seeing Stripper again returned, and
Wilbur had to clear his throat several times before he could speak. “If you
don‟t shift, then you‟ll seek professional help for your delusions.” He thought
of one more thing and added, “And you‟ll do a full striptease for me. I want
the whole shebang.”
“Wait,” Stripper said, frowning. “I want the same thing if I can
prove—”
“Too late,” Wilbur said quickly. “The deal is already closed.” There
was no way on earth he was stripping for his lover. Wilbur owned two left
feet. He‟d fall over the first time he twirled around.
“Fine,” Stripper said. “But promise me one thing.”
Wilbur sighed. “Depends.” His skin tingled, and his heart started
beating faster when Stripper walked over to him. The man‟s body flexed, his
muscles rippled, and Wilbur was close to begging the man to take him right
here in these woods.
“Don‟t be afraid, okay?”
It took a second for Stripper‟s words to register. Wilbur was too busy
staring at the man‟s cock. “Okay.”
“My eyes are up here.” Stripper pointed to his face.
“Uh-huh.” Wilbur nodded but kept staring at the man‟s thick shaft. His
body began to come alive, to burn for one touch, a kiss, a caress. He shivered
as his own cock started thickening.
“I think I‟ve created a monster,” Stripper said and then backed away.
“Just remember not to be frightened. It‟s just me. I promise.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Wilbur was done talking about something that wasn‟t
going to happen. He wanted sex. Now that was a real possibility. He shifted
from one foot to the other, wondering if he should get naked as well. If they
were going to be out in the woods, might as well make it fun.
Wilbur blinked a few times when hair started to sprout all over
Stripper‟s body. The man fell to all fours as he twisted, his body reshaping.
Wilbur stumbled backward, falling on his ass. He tried to scoot away when a
large brown bear stood in Stripper‟s place. This couldn‟t be possible. Stripper
couldn‟t have transformed into…could he have? Wilbur tried to slow his
racing heart. It was beating way too fast, and that wasn‟t good for him. He
started to feel lightheaded as the bear moved toward him.
Wilbur grabbed for a stick and shook it in front of him. “Fetch.” He
tossed it aside, praying the bear went after it so he could run away. But the
bear shook himself as if trying to dispel water from his fur.
“I‟m trying,” Wilbur said as his fingers curled into the earth beneath
him. “I‟m really trying not to freak out. Could you please change back? My
heart is beating way too fast.”
Stripper instantly shifted back into his human form and hurried over to
Wilbur. “Breathe, beautiful. Calm down. I know it‟s a lot to take in, but you
have to regulate your breathing.”
That was easier said than done. If the guy was telling the truth about
being a bear, then Wilbur really was…his heart started speeding up again.
Stripper quickly dressed and then scooped Wilbur from the ground, rushing
him back inside the clinic.
 All Wilbur could think about was what Doctor Gallagher had said.
Wilbur was going to have a baby. He couldn‟t even take care of a goldfish.
Harry was still alive thanks to Stripper taking care of the fish. How on earth
was Wilbur going to care for a child? What if he woke one morning and the
baby was belly up, no more bubbles?
No, that wasn‟t right. Wilbur knew children didn‟t live in water, but his
mind was racing in every direction. Strange and crazy thoughts were plaguing
him.
“What‟s wrong?” Doctor Gallagher asked when Stripper rushed inside
with Wilbur in his arms.
“I showed him that I could shift, and now his heart is beating too damn
fast.”
The doctor took them to the back and placed an oxygen mask over
Wilbur‟s face as he started an IV. Wilbur tried to push the man‟s hands away,
but the doctor was a lot stronger than he looked. Wilbur hated needles. He
winced when the IV needle slid into his arm.
“I‟m going to give you something to settle down,” the doctor said. “It
isn‟t strong, but it should help you relax.”
Wilbur wished the man would stop talking and give it to him already.
Doctor Gallagher left the room but was back in seconds, a syringe in his hand.
He pushed the medicine into the IV and then began to exam Wilbur. “It‟s
already going to be taxing carrying a child. You need to learn some relaxation
techniques, Wilbur.”
Wilbur stuck his thumb up when he felt the medicine take effect. He
smiled over at Stripper and then closed his eyes. He didn‟t fall asleep and
could still hear everything around him.
“I have a feeling he‟ll be on bed rest the last trimester,” the doctor said
to Stripper. “I don‟t like the fact that he‟s having a child so soon after heart
valve surgery.”
The room grew silent as Wilbur‟s body went lax. He‟d never been this
content in his life. All his worries and all his fears drained from him. He
wasn‟t floating along but he was damn close.
“Is there a chance I could lose Wilbur?” Stripper‟s voice filled Wilbur‟s
mind, and he smiled at the deep and masculine sound. He loved Stripper‟s
voice. It was soothing and, at times, downright sexy.
“I‟m not going to lie,” the doctor said. “There‟s always a chance with
childbirth. And with Wilbur‟s condition, it‟s hard to say.”
“I can‟t lose him, Gallagher. My mother sacrificed her own life to bring
me to full term. I can‟t let Wilbur do the same. I won‟t live without my mate.”
Wilbur frowned. Was that true? Was his brain muddled, or was he
hearing Stripper correctly? He tried to pull at his mask, to tell Stripper he
wasn‟t going anywhere, but his fingers felt too thick, and he couldn‟t get the
dang thing off.
“Just keep a close eye on him, and I‟ll make sure he has regular exams.
We‟ll watch him and the child closely.”
Wilbur stopped trying to struggle to get the mask off and settled into a
deeper calm. The medicine was doing its job because he soon felt himself
starting to drift off to sleep.
 Chapter Eleven

T-Rex, Shott, Sam, and Mason ducked low when Reno exited the
building. Shott wanted to jump out of the SUV and go after the man. Damn it
if he didn‟t look like Wilbur. Shott could see how Stripper had confused the
two. Reno had the same spiky reddish-brown hair, the same build, and they
even walked the same.
Only Reno was dressed in a business suit and was carrying a briefcase.
The man looked up and down the street and then slid into a dark sedan sitting
close to the building before taking off.
T-Rex followed.
As his team leader drove, Shott and Sam locked and loaded their
weapons. Shott couldn‟t get Bill out of his mind. He had sent Wilbur to his
friend, and Bill had ended up dead because Shott had asked for help. That
thought festered in his mind as they turned corners and stopped at lights. Bill
hadn‟t been an angel, not by a long shot, but he was always there when a
friend needed help, always had someone‟s back.
And Reno had killed the man. Shott prayed he didn‟t shot the son of a
bitch when he finally got his hands on the man.
Reno was being cautious. He drove down alleyways and semi-deserted
streets, but T-Rex outmaneuvered the man, catching him a block or two over
so he wouldn‟t be spotted. The day was growing late, and the traffic became
thicker with people leaving work. But they were good at what they did and
hadn‟t lost sight of Reno once.
They‟d tailed the man to Burgess Street, where Reno pulled over and
went inside a greasy dive, the signs announcing they had the best Philly
cheesesteaks. T-Rex slid into an empty spot along the curb a few cars down
and waited.
Shott sat there, his elbow resting on the door, rubbing his index finger
and thumb over his chin as his eyes stayed fixated on the shop.
“Go inside and order something,” T-Rex said to Sam. “I don‟t want
Reno slipping out the back door.”
T-Rex gazed at Shott from the rearview mirror. The man‟s blue eyes
held a wealth of information and knowledge, as if T-Rex knew sending Shott
in there was a bad idea. T-Rex was right. Shott had a personal stake in this. He
would‟ve gone into that busy shop and slipped past Reno while sliding a knife
between the man‟s ribs.
He would‟ve been in and out of there before anyone was the wiser.
Instead, he sat back and took a long breath as he tried to convince himself that
the main objective was not to kill Reno but to bring the man in for justice.
A punctured lung would‟ve been justice.
Mason sat on the other side of Shott, gazing out of the window. But he
wasn‟t watching the shop. The guy was watching some twink who was
standing by the SUV, waiting patiently as his small dog sniffed around.
Reno exited the shop. Seconds later, Sam walked out, a takeout bag in
his hand. When Sam slid back into the SUV, he tossed the bag back to Mason.
“Now you won‟t eat our cattle.”
Shott smirked as the smell of caramelized onions filled the interior.
Mason wasted no time polishing off the sandwich as they began to follow
Reno once more.
“Don‟t you dare get any food on my seats,” T-Rex said. “I usually don‟t
allow anyone to eat in here.”
“What food?” Mason said with a grin as he balled the wrapper up and
tossed it back into the bag, licking his lips. The sandwich had been eaten that
quickly.
They drove to a deserted warehouse lot and eased into a spot at the side
of a brick building with its cracked and shattered windows and decaying wood
doors. Reno had driven inside.
As T-Rex pulled the SUV to a stop amid a broken-down truck, stacked
crates, and old machinery, he looked in the rearview mirror at Mason. “I want
you to stay here and let us know if Reno attempts to escape.”
“In other words,” Mason said, “since I don‟t have any training, keep my
ass planted.”
“That about sums it up.” T-Rex slid from the driver‟s seat as Shott and
Sam got out as well. Shott wanted to ask why they had brought Mason along
in the first place, but there were on total silence now. Each of them slipped an
earpiece in that would sync with their watches.
T-Rex signaled for Sam to take the front of the building as Shott and
T-Rex slid around back.

****

Stripper stood by the open French doors, gazing out over the ranch as
the sun began to set. Wilbur was asleep in the bed, curled under the sheet.
After the sedative had worn off at the doctor‟s office, Stripper had brought his
mate home. But Wilbur hadn‟t said a word the entire ride. Once here, Wilbur
had crawled into bed and gone to sleep.
 And now here Stripper stood, his gut twisted into tight knots as he
wondered what to do. He‟d left home as soon as he‟d turned eighteen to join
the service.
After joining, Stripper had been recruited into the Special Forces where
he trained alongside T-Rex, Sam, Colton, Shott, and Legend. Stripper had
taken to his training like a fish to water. He was a natural. He‟d traveled all
over the world and had been in many life-and-death situations.
He‟d been stabbed, had guns shoved in his face, been nearly blown up a
few times, and faced the worst of the worst. Yet a small slip of a man had the
power to break Stripper, to make his world come crashing down around him.
Stripper stepped out onto the porch, curling his fingers around the
railing. He wasn‟t going to lose Wilbur, but he wasn‟t sure how to keep the
man safe. He was facing the toughest decision of his life. They could abort the
baby and try again later when Wilbur was stronger. But the thought nearly
sent Stripper to his knees.
He knew he couldn‟t live with the decision to kill his own child. He
couldn‟t. But then where did that leave Wilbur? The man‟s heart might not be
able to take the stress of pregnancy and childbirth.
“Why are out here naked?”
Stripper turned to see Wilbur standing in the doorway, a sheet draped
around him. Stripper‟s heart clenched at the sight. He held his hand out, and
Wilbur came to him. Stripper enveloped the man in his arms and held him
close. “Just thinking.”
He smoothed his cheek over Wilbur‟s short, reddish-brown hair,
luxuriating at the contact. He never wanted to know what it would be like
without his mate. Stripper was starting to understand what his father had gone
through after losing his mate. Wilbur was still here, yet Stripper felt that
undeniable sense of loss. He knew it was nothing close to what his father felt,
but having even a small taste threatened to shatter him.
“I heard what you said to the doctor,” Wilbur said as he slid his hands
around Stripper, the sheet surrounding them both. “Did your mother really do
that?”
“The doctors had warned her,” Stripper said, unable to look at Wilbur
for fear that he would fall apart. “But she was determined to have a child.”
“And you‟re afraid the same will happen to me,” Wilbur surmised.
“Terrified.” Stripper normally didn‟t confess to any weak feelings, but
this was Wilbur, his mate. This was the one man he would allow himself to be
vulnerable around. This was the one person he would allow close enough to
see his demons.
Wilbur rubbed his cheek against Stripper‟s bare chest, as if he, too,
needed the contact. “I‟m trying to wrap my head around all of this. I‟m still
trying to understand how all of this is possible.”
“It still sometimes baffles me,” Stripper said. “I grew up knowing I was
a bear shifter, and yet there are times when it still truly amazes me.”
“I don‟t have female parts,” Wilbur pointed out. “How am I going to
carry this baby?”
Stripper smiled at the perplexity in Wilbur‟s tone. “That‟s a question for
the doctor. I‟m afraid I still don‟t understand how it‟s possible. But more than
one man has been pregnant in this house, so I know it can be done.”
Wilbur pulled back slightly and gazed up at Stripper. God, those green
eyes were so magical. Stripper could lose himself in them. He cupped
Wilbur‟s face and laid a gentle kiss on the man‟s lips. “I think I‟ve fallen in
love with you.”
Wilbur‟s eyes widened slightly before they filled with a scorching heat.
Stripper felt his mate‟s shaft growing hard as they stood there. A teasing smile
appeared on Wilbur‟s face. “You‟re just saying that because you knocked me
up.”
Stripper laughed slightly. “You think so?”
Biting his lower lip, Wilbur shook his head. “No, I just say insane
things when I‟m nervous. And since I‟ve never been in love before, I‟m very
nervous.”
“So, you‟re saying that you love me to?” Stripper‟s thumbs caressed
Wilbur‟s soft cheeks.
“I can‟t resist a man who offers me a deli sandwich after kidnapping
me.”
Stripper burst out laughing and hugged Wilbur tightly as twilight settled
in and bathed them in the glow of the rising moon. He kissed Wilbur once
more, but this time Stripper deepened the kiss, his hands wandering over the
man‟s smooth skin. Wilbur‟s breath came out in a rush as he trembled in
Stripper‟s arms.
Damn, Wilbur was making him crazy. Rapid-fire pulses of sensation
raced through his cock, tightened his balls, and tore across his nerve endings
as he tasted the man.
Wilbur arched into him, greedily sucking at Stripper‟s lips. Reaching
between them, Stripper wrapped a tight fist around Wilbur‟s erection. The
man bucked as his body shook. A long, desperate wail left Wilbur‟s lips as his
fingers tightened on Stripper‟s biceps. The sheet floated to the porch as
Stripper pressed Wilbur‟s back into the railing.
Wilbur parted his lips, and Stripper‟s tongue licked, laved, loved. It
flicked inside Wilbur's mouth, only to retreat as Wilbur‟s hips jerked closer in
a silent plea for more. His mate arched beneath him, Wilbur‟s hips lifting to
Stripper‟s hand.
“I want you to fuck me,” Wilbur begged.
Stripper lifted his mate until Wilbur wrapped his legs around his waist.
He carried his lover inside, laid him on the bed, and then grabbed the lube. As
Stripper worked the tight muscle, he plunged his tongue deep into Wilbur‟s
mouth.
Everything about Wilbur was incredible. Everything about the human
fascinated Stripper. Heat surged inside him, built around him. Wilbur owned
every single part of Stripper, heart, soul, and the very air that he breathed.
Removing his fingers, Stripper settled between Wilbur‟s legs and thrust
inside his mate with a fierce, hard stroke. The forceful, immediate sensation of
being buried deep inside Wilbur, the pleasure that tore through him, brought
him higher.
Shock widened Wilbur‟s eyes as Stripper pulled back and began
working inside the tight grip of Wilbur‟s ass with powerful strokes. He was
dying. Sweat dripped down his face as he buried his cock inside Wilbur to the
hilt on the fourth stroke.
Pushing inside his mate again, Stripper stilled, grimaced, and fought not
to come. Hell, he was going to come. His balls were so tight they were
painful, and the sensitivity in his cock was near agonizing. He was lost in a
world of such sensual pleasure that nothing mattered but the moment and his
mate.
He was bound to Wilbur, more than just physically, more than just his
cock buried inside the tightest, sweetest ass he had ever known. Stripper was
bound to Wilbur‟s soul, and Stripper knew there was no way to escape. He
didn‟t want to escape.
Flexing his hips, Stripper moved, dragging the fiercely throbbing length
of his shaft back before thrusting inside Wilbur. Slowly. He couldn‟t go faster,
not yet. One wrong move and he was gone. He‟d never manage to feel his
mate pulsing around his cock in release again. He‟d spill into the man without
thought.
“Wilbur.” He groaned the man‟s name as Wilbur‟s legs wrapped around
his hips and held on tight.
“Fuck me. Harder. Oh God, I‟m so close…” Wilbur‟s hips churned
beneath Stripper. “So close.”
Throwing his head back, Stripper gritted his teeth and let go of the last
measure of control he had held on to. Fucking Wilbur with desperate driving
strokes, Stripper felt his release building, heating, threatening…
Wilbur exploded beneath him. A long, low wail of completion filled the
room as Stripper powered into his mate again, again, driving Wilbur through
an orgasm that was fierce and deep.
Burying in deep, hard, Stripper gave into the fierce, white-hot spurts of
semen as it began to jet inside his mate. The more he gave Wilbur the more
the man‟s ass tried to milk from Stripper. Wilbur‟s ass rippled and gripped and
stroked at Stripper‟s cock until he was shaking, shuddering, certain he would
never survive.
When it finally began to ease, as the strength seeped from their bodies
and left Stripper to collapse beside Wilbur, fighting just to breathe, Stripper
began to wonder if having this child would bring him the greatest joy he
would ever know or completely destroy him.
 Chapter Twelve

T-Rex crept up the metal stairs to enter through the second floor door.
The metal creaked as he opened it and quickly moved inside. Sam had taken
the downstairs door, and he was already out of sight.
The place was bathed in darkness except for the sliver of light from the
moon that angled through the windows. T-Rex kept to the shadows as he made
his way through the second floor, checking for Reno.
The second floor didn‟t have many rooms. It looked as if it was used for
storage. T-Rex didn‟t find anything up there except rats. He hated rats. He
turned and moved back toward the way he‟d come.
Something caught his attention. T-Rex looked down toward the large
open area below to see Sam and Shott standing in the middle, a good dozen
men surrounding them.
This had been a trap. Reno had somehow figured he was being followed
and called for backup. Both Sam and Shott had their guns drawn, but so did
the other men. It was a standoff.
And off to one side, Reno stood, wearing a smug smile. He still had the
briefcase clutched in one hand. T-Rex wanted to shoot that triumphant
expression off of Reno‟s face, but then he would have a dozen guns aimed at
him, shooting. He preferred not to be turned into Swiss cheese.
Fading back into the shadows, T-Rex pulled his phone free and texted
Colton, telling him of the situation. He put in the location and then pocketed
his phone. He doubted anyone would make it here in time, but at least
everyone back home would know what happened when they found the bloody
massacre.
He eased out of the door he‟d come through and hurried down the steps.
Mason was still sitting in the SUV. How the men hadn‟t spotted the SUV was
anyone‟s guess, but T-Rex was thankful.
He opened the driver‟s door and slid behind the wheel.
“Other men arrived,” Mason said. “I called Legend and told him.”
“How long ago?” T-Rex asked as he started the motor.
“As soon as you guys disappeared into the building. I didn‟t know what
else to do.” Mason leaned forward from the backseat. T-Rex could only guess
that the tinted windows had shielded Mason from view. The SUV had looked
empty. The men probably thought it was Reno‟s.
“What do you plan to do?” Mason asked as his eyes flickered to the
building. “That‟s a lot of men with guns to go up against.”
 “We‟re going to offer Sam and Shott a ride.” T-Rex pulled the vehicle
back until he was a good fifty feet from the warehouse, cut the wheel, and
then shoved his foot into the gas pedal.
The SUV lunged forward and then gained speed. He drove right into the
warehouse, came to a hard stop, and shouted, “Get in!”
Sam and Shoot didn‟t hesitate. The sound of bullets hitting the SUV
was like listening to a drum roll. The noise was constant and fast. T-Rex kept
his head as low as he could as he gunned the motor and took off, crashing
through the back of the building. Thank fuck it was made of wood and not
metal.
The windshield cracked, the side mirror was torn off, and the front of
the SUV probably looked like hell, but they made it out of there. The truck
jumped and bounced as T-Rex drove around the building and headed for the
exit. The men had run out of the warehouse and were still shooting at them as
T-Rex made a hairpin turn from the lot and took off down the street.
“Mason was hit!” Shott shouted.
T-Rex glanced back to see the lumbering ranch hand slumped over in
his seat, blood seeping through his shirt.

****

Stripper hurried out of the house when T-Rex‟s SUV came to a hard
stop. It took four men to carry Mason from the vehicle into the house. They
carried him into the kitchen and laid him out on the table. Doctor Gallagher
was there, having been called ahead of time.
The doctor moved men aside before he began his work—getting the
bullet out of Mason. The guy had lost so much blood that he was too pale for
comfort.
“Why didn‟t he shift?” Stripper asked when T-Rex moved close to him.
Mason damn near took up the entire width of the table.
“I haven‟t a fucking clue,” T-Rex said. The front of T-Rex‟s shirt was
covered in Mason‟s blood. “The stubborn son of a bitch wouldn‟t.”
That didn‟t make any sense to Stripper. The bullet would still be lodged
in the man, but at least his body would have isolated the injury until Gallagher
could get the bullet out.
“I made a phone call on the way here,” T-Rex said to no one in
particular. “Gator and his men are on their way. They‟ll be here by tomorrow.
I want Reno that badly.”
Stripper‟s eyes widened. For T-Rex to ask for help meant things were
going south. For him to call Gator and his team, the world had to be ending.
Gator was a bayou boy through and through. He had been born deep in the
swamps, was hardcore, and took over any situation he was involved in. His
team was referred to as ghosts. They were handed an assignment and weren‟t
heard from again until their mission was complete. They got in without being
detected, did their job, and disappeared into the night.
Stripper turned when Sparrow walked through the back door. His dark
eyes landed on Mason. “What happened?”
“It was a setup,” T-Rex said. “Reno knew he was being tailed and set up
an ambush.” Stripper‟s team held a grim expression as he watched Mason
being worked on. Stripper could see the regret in T-Rex‟s eyes. Mason
shouldn‟t have been there, but they‟d needed a lookout, and the ranch hand
seemed gung ho on being with them.
T-Rex was blaming himself for what‟d happened to Mason just as Shott
blamed himself for what‟d happened to Bill.
The doctor finally extracted the bullet and then injected something into
the ranch hand. Mason immediately shifted into his bear form. The doctor held
up the bullet with a pair of hemostats. “It‟s laced with silver. No wonder
Mason couldn‟t shift.”
Stripper cursed. Mason was going to have a scar, but that was the least
of the ranch hand‟s worries. There was no telling if the silver had done any
damage. Silver was poisonous to shifters, and the doctor was going to have to
run tests on Mason.
The man was going to survive the bullet wound. Question was, would
he survive the silver?

****

The following day, Wilbur found Stripper in the communications room.

The man was buck naked, bobbing around with a headset on. The guy was
cursing, threatening someone Wilbur couldn‟t see as his fingers danced over
the controller in his hand.
Wilbur closed the door and stood there, watching. His pulse quickened
at the sight. Of course, it didn‟t hurt that Stripper was naked, but that wasn‟t
what caught Wilbur‟s attention.
Wilbur had seen Stripper in his militant mode. That was something a
person wouldn‟t forget. His hazel eyes had been filled with death and promise.
He‟d also seen Stripper at his most vulnerable. The emotions that crossed
through the man‟s eyes still haunted Wilbur. He‟d seen Stripper filled with
passion, making love to him as if Wilbur was the center of his universe.
And now he was seeing Stripper relaxed, playful. There were so many
layers to the man that Wilbur didn‟t think he would ever figure Stripper out.
His mate was a complex creature with many facets. Wilbur took a seat on the
carpet, crossing his legs in front of him as he watched Stripper battle it out.
This had to be Stripper‟s way of decompressing. Last night, after Mason
had been brought home, Stripper had been quiet, remote. He still held Wilbur
while they lay in bed, but Wilbur had felt as if Stripper hadn‟t even been there.
His mate had been deep in thought and had shut Wilbur out.
But there were some things that Wilbur didn‟t want his mate to share.
Everyone was allowed to hide a piece of them. Stripper didn‟t know
everything about Wilbur, and that was fine.
Stripper‟s arms shot up in victory as he talked trash to someone over the
headset, and then the man tossed the controller aside. He turned and winked at
Wilbur. “Victory once again.”
But it was Stripper‟s eyes that worried Wilbur. The smile didn‟t reach
them. Although his mate was talking to him, Wilbur felt as if he were still
being shut out. Something was going on inside Stripper‟s head, and the man
refused to let Wilbur in.
Wilbur bounced his arms up and down playfully. “Whoop. Whoop.”
After removing the headset, Stripper grabbed his shorts from the couch
and slid them on. Normally, his mate always tried to ravish him. Stripper was
a tactile creature and could never keep his hands to himself when it came to
Wilbur. But Wilbur could feel a wall between them. His mate didn‟t ask him
how he was feeling, or if he‟d gotten sick this morning—something Stripper
always asked.
He did, however, help Wilbur to his feet. Stripper smiled and walked
out of the communications room. Wilbur stood there, unsure of what to do.
Since this was his first real relationship, he was at a loss as to how to bring
those walls down.
Wilbur wandered into the kitchen to find Taylor, Steven, Gabe, and
Cameron sitting at the table. Although he‟d spoken to each man since coming
here, Wilbur hadn‟t had a real conversation with any of them. He had spent
most of his time cooped up in Stripper‟s room, recovering.
The moment became awkward when Wilbur stood in the middle of the
kitchen, unsure what to say to any of them. He had come in here for a snack
but felt as if he were under a microscope as four sets of eyes watched him
closely.
“What?” Wilbur asked. For some odd reason, he glanced down at
himself to make sure he was fully dressed. He knew he was, but having the
men watching so closely made Wilbur uncomfortable.
Taylor stood and then pulled a seat out. “Come have a seat, Wilbur.”
Easing past Taylor, Wilbur sat. He strummed his fingers on his knees as
he waited for one of them to say something. He sure as heck didn‟t know how
to start the conversation. Wilbur knew nothing about these men and was
socially awkward most of the time as it was. The only thing he could think of
was accounting, but he was pretty sure that would bore these men to death. It
bored Wilbur to death half the time.
Taylor scooped some ice cream from the container sitting next to him.
He plopped the sugary treat into a bowl and then slid it toward Wilbur. Wilbur
smiled politely and shook his head. “I‟m not allowed to have that, but thank
you anyway.”
“It‟s sugar free,” Taylor stated. “I don‟t think a scoop will hurt you.”
Wilbur really didn‟t want it, but he accepted the bowl out of politeness.
Using the spoon, he played with the glop as he glanced around the table. He
tried to think of some reason to excuse himself, but nothing came to mind. It
was like sitting in a courtroom awaiting a verdict. Wilbur could feel himself
sweating, ready to bolt.
“So, you‟re mated to Stripper,” Gabe said. “Pretty cool.”
“Yep.” Wilbur nodded. He stopped pretending interest in the ice cream
and pushed the bowl aside. “And you‟re mated as well. What a coincidence.”
Taylor burst out laughing. Cameron joined in. Steven sat the farthest
away, trying not to look at Wilbur. Stripper had told Wilbur of Steven‟s knack
for being able to read people‟s minds and see their thoughts. Wilbur had an
insane urge to wrap aluminum foil around his head to guard his mind.
He didn‟t need anyone to see how chaotic his thoughts were at the
moment. Wilbur didn‟t want anybody to know how isolated he felt. That was
his business and his business alone.
Steven glanced at him just then, and Wilbur knew the man had mentally
heard him. Something passed between them, almost an understanding. It was
as if Steven understood what Wilbur was going through.
“I need to tend to some things outside,” Steven said as he stood. He
turned and looked directly at Wilbur. “Mind helping me?”
Wilbur started to tell the man that he couldn‟t engage in anything
strenuous, but the expression in Steven‟s eyes urged Wilbur to get up and
walk out onto the back porch. Maybe Wilbur was curious, or maybe he just
wanted to get out of the kitchen, but he gladly followed.
“They‟re just trying to figure you out,” Steven said. “None of them are
intentionally being rude. But aside from Gabe, we all come from fucked-up
backgrounds, and it isn‟t easy opening up to someone new.”
 Wilbur liked one-on-one much better. “My background is pretty boring
and uneventful,” he confessed. “But lately things have livened up.”
“Some good and some bad,” Steven said. It was a statement.
“Life is a teeter-totter,” Wilbur replied.
“And right now you‟re sitting on the downside, waiting to be lifted up,”
Steven said. “I know how that feels. I‟ve been there too many times.”
Wilbur knew Steven was trying to bond in some sort of way. It must
have sucked living in a house where people knew what Steven could do. They
probably treated him with a long-handled spoon. No one wanted their thoughts
invaded.
“But I‟m getting better at it,” Steven said. “Rowdy has taught me a lot.
But it‟s not easy tuning people out. I don‟t intentionally invade thoughts.”
A pariah in his own home. Wilbur began to feel sorry for the man. He
smiled and waved at Steven. He would‟ve shaken the man‟s hand, but he‟d
been warned that touch was painful to Steven.
“Hi, I‟m Wilbur Castro. You want to be friends?”
Steven chuckled, and his eyes sparkled when he smiled. “We could all
use a friend every now and again.”
“Are you hurting with me being so close to you?” Wilbur asked. The
last thing he wanted to do was cause anyone any pain.
Steven shook his head. He pointed toward the corrals. “That‟s why I
came outside. Whenever Colton is close, my mind grows quiet.”
“But you still heard my thoughts,” Wilbur pointed out. He chewed at
his bottom lip and added, “So you know what I‟m feeling.”
Taking a seat on the top step, Steven nodded. “When I first met
Stripper, the man bumped my shoulder. I had the impression of darkness and
raw strength, of something lethal stirring dangerously.”
Wilbur took a seat on the porch floor and crossed his legs. “What does
that mean?”
All Steven did was shrug. “The guy has a lot of turmoil inside of him. I
don‟t know why though.”
Wilbur knew why. It was because of Stripper‟s mother. But he wasn‟t
going to tell Steven about that. Wilbur had no one else to turn to for answers,
so he hoped that Steven was truly a friend. “I just don‟t understand why he‟s
shutting me out.”
Steven turned and rested his back against the railing, his knees bent.
Wilbur only half listened to the men working in the corral. His mind was in
turmoil, and he didn‟t like it. Wilbur was already dealing with enough. He was
scared too, but he wasn‟t shutting Stripper out. Wilbur knew the risks of
carrying the child full term. What he needed was his mate‟s support, not his
silence.
“Guilt. Worry. It could be a combination of a lot of things. Maybe he‟s
afraid to let you in because he‟s terrified he‟s going to lose you,” Steven said.
“But mind you, it‟s only a guess.”
“Would you be able to read my goldfish‟s mind?” Wilbur asked. He
wanted to change the subject. Doom and gloom was not his cup of tea.
Steven gazed at him strangely for a moment and then burst out
laughing. The sound was so contagious that Wilbur found himself laughing as
well. He‟d been serious though.
“I like you,” Steven said.
“Aw, shucks.” Wilbur felt himself blushing. “Thanks.” And then he
thought about something. “What is dry drowning?”
Steven sobered and cocked his head to the side. “You really do know
how to subject jump. It‟s when a cloth is held over your face and water is
poured into your mouth. The water doesn‟t really get through, but you
suffocate. I think.” Steven scratched at his head. “But that‟s the concept.”
Wilbur sat there for the longest time staring at Steven. As he thought
about Stripper‟s threat when they‟d first met, his anger began to mount. He
knew it had been a mix-up, that Stripper had thought Wilbur was Reno. But
the thought of Stripper doing that to anyone horrified Wilbur.
Steven‟s expression grew serious. “Don‟t judge him. Think of the bad
guys he‟s up against. Reno is the scum of the earth. That guy didn‟t hesitate to
put a bullet in you or to kill others. He just tried to wipe out T-Rex, Sam,
Shott, and Mason last night. And he nearly succeeded. Stripper‟s methods
might be crude, but that‟s nothing compared to the devastation Reno is willing
to leave behind.”
Wilbur slammed the door on the thoughts of how Stripper operated in
the field. He knew Steven was right. The logical part of his brain argued that
Stripper did what he had to do in order to keep the world safe. But he knew
the man intimately, and it was hard for him to wrap his mind around Stripper‟s
methods.
“Just let it go,” Steven advised. “He‟s still the same man you fell in love
with. You have to learn to separate his work from his home life or it will drive
you insane.”
“I still don‟t know what to do about that wall.”
“Go talk to him. Let him know just how scared you are and that you
don‟t blame him.”
Wilbur didn‟t blame Stripper. His mate hadn‟t known that Wilbur could
get pregnant without biting. Although the doctor had said that it was
extremely rare, Stripper hadn‟t known that it could happen. Wilbur
remembered how hard Stripper had fought not to bite him. And his mate
hadn‟t.
Wilbur stood and dusted his butt off. “I‟ll go find him.”
“Just remember what he‟s already been through with losing his mom
and living with a father who was torn from guilt. This can‟t be easy on the
guy. Talk.”
 Chapter Thirteen

Stripper, Shott, and T-Rex were gearing up to go meet Gator when the
scent of hot summer rain and licorice filled his lungs. Stripper glanced out of
the room where the weapons were kept to see Wilbur heading his way.
Guilt ate at Stripper. Guilt for shutting Wilbur out, for getting the man
pregnant, for putting his very life in danger. After nearly losing Mason last
night, the fact that he could lose Wilbur had hit home. Stripper was being an
ass, and he knew it. He already loved the human beyond words but was trying
to shut the man out because he was terrified of going through what his father
had gone through.
Stripper didn‟t want to know that pain.
“Can I talk to my mate for a moment?” Wilbur asked T-Rex and Shott.
“We really need to get going,” T-Rex said. “Can this wait?”
“Unless you want me to neuter my mate, no.” Wilbur was tired of
playing nice. He was finished with trying to appease everyone. Being nice was
getting him nowhere, and he really did want to talk to Stripper.
Shott smirked as he stepped out of the room. “I‟ll be outside.”
Was that admiration he saw in T-Rex‟s blue eyes? Wilbur wasn‟t sure,
and right now he didn‟t even care. He was ready to take on the tall dinosaur if
he had to.
“You got five minutes,” T-Rex said before he walked out.
When T-Rex‟s back was to Wilbur, Wilbur flipped the man off. He
turned to see Stripper smiling at him. Wilbur felt disoriented, almost dizzy at
the power of standing up to someone bigger than him. He liked the feeling.
“My mate is turning into a little pit bull,” Stripper said as he leaned one
arm against the shelf. “But I really do have to go.”
Wilbur jabbed his finger into Stripper‟s chest. “Not until we settle
things between us.”
“There‟s nothing to settle.”
“Bullshit.”
“Stop acting like this and pretending you give a fuck to what‟s
happening all around us, Wilbur. If we don‟t stop Reno—”
“I actually give lots of fucks. Tons of fucks. I‟m a prostitute of
feelings,” Wilbur said. “But if we don‟t settle things between us, what Reno
does won‟t even matter. I want you to stop shutting me out.”
“I have to go.” Stripper tried to push past Wilbur, but Wilbur blocked
the man‟s way.
 Wilbur was ready to hit something. Namely Stripper. “No, I still have
four more minutes, and you‟re going to listen to me.” Wilbur change tactics
and let go of his anger, letting the pain in his eyes show. “Don‟t you think I‟m
terrified? Has it ever occurred to you that I‟m downright scared of what could
happen to me?”
Stripper‟s jaw clenched as a mask fell over his face. His hazel eyes
turned dark. “You didn‟t grow up in a house of mourning. You have no idea
what it‟s like to be the survivor, to live with that loss every day of your life.”
Tears gathered in Wilbur‟s eyes as he pulled his hand back and slapped
Stripper across the face. “I‟m not dead, so stop treating me like I‟ve already
died!”
The expression in Stripper‟s eyes turned lethal. “I‟ve shut you out for
one single night, and you‟re flipping out on me?”
“Hormones,” Wilbur argued. “Deal with them. But what do you expect
me to do, wait until this has gone on for an entire month before I say
something? I don‟t think so, buddy. I‟m not into torturing myself. Either we
clear the air or I make your life hell.”
Stripper seemed to deflate. “I don‟t want to argue with you.”
“And I don‟t want to live with someone who‟s afraid to love me. I‟m
carrying your child, Stripper. I need someone at my side, not a shadow hiding
in a corner. Be a fucking man and step up to the plate.”
Stripper grabbed Wilbur and shoved him into the shelf. His canines
were showing, and his eyes held a slight glow. Wilbur thought he had pushed
the man too far. He‟d never had a lover‟s spat before and wasn‟t sure if he
should have been so aggressive.
His mate gave a low growl before their lips collided. Wilbur gasped and
then wrapped his arms and legs around Stripper, clinging to the man,
desperate to get closer.
Stripper reached out and slammed the door closed, locking it. Wilbur
was in heaven. He sucked Stripper‟s tongue down his throat as he ground his
erection into his lover's stomach. This must be the makeup sex Wilbur had
heard about. He loved it.
“Three minutes,” Stripper said, panting into Wilbur‟s mouth. “Get ready
for quick and hard.”
“But we don‟t have any lube,” Wilbur reminded the man.
“Then spit will have to do. But you‟re about to get fucked.” Stripper
yanked Wilbur‟s waistband down until his ass was exposed. Wilbur still had
his legs wrapped around Stripper‟s waist and held on for dear life as his mate
unbuckled his pants.
Stripper spit into his hand and used the moisture to wet Wilbur‟s ass.
He repeated the process two more times before he lined his cock up and drove
home.
“Son of a bitch!” Wilbur shouted.
“Hold on to me, beautiful.” Stripper planted his hands into the wall and
drove hard and deep inside Wilbur. It wasn‟t soft and slow like it had been
since Stripper found out that Wilbur was pregnant. This was fast and brutal,
and Wilbur loved every second of it.
“I‟m not going to fucking lose you,” Stripper said with a low and
deadly growl.
“I‟m not going anywhere,” Wilbur promised, although he knew that was
only half true. There was no certainty, but he had to be optimistic. His eyes
widened and his head fell back when Stripper bit into his shoulder. That was
the first time his mate had done that, and Wilbur‟s cock exploded. He shouted
Stripper‟s name as his mate pounded into him. His mate stayed locked onto
him for a long moment before Stripper pulled his canines free and licked the
wound at Wilbur‟s shoulder.
“Mine!” Stripper snarled the word as he fucked Wilbur even faster.
“Who does this body belonged to? Whose ass is this?”
“Mine,” Wilbur cried out.
Stripper faltered and then a wickedly sinful smile appeared on his face.
“Cognitive thoughts aren‟t your specialty during sex, are they?”
“Shut up!” Wilbur shouted. “Just fuck me.”
And Stripper did. Wilbur‟s back was crushed against the shelf as
Stripper grabbed Wilbur‟s hips, thrusting hard and fast. The man‟s head rolled
back, his lips parting, his canines showing as he growled and then shouted his
release.
Wilbur was a wet noodle. He was boneless as Stripper rested their
foreheads together. Wilbur gazed into his mate‟s eyes and could see the
vulnerability there. “Don‟t ever shut me out again, please.”
“I‟ll try not to,” Stripper said. “But if I do, just threaten to neuter me
and I‟m all yours.”
Wilbur hissed as Stripper eased out of him. He was going to be sore for
a while. Maybe he should carry around some lube in his pocket for emergency
situations.
Stripper helped Wilbur readjust his pants before his mate refastened his
own. Stripper gave Wilbur a soft and gentle kiss before someone pounded on
the door.
“Time‟s up,” Shott said. “We have to roll out.”
Wilbur opened the door and stumbled out of the room. He knew he
looked like a hot mess. He turned and pointed a finger at his mate. “Let‟s not
have this conversation again.”
He tried to stomp off, but his legs were too wiggly, and he didn‟t have
the energy. Instead, he stumbled away, a happy smile on his face.
He and Stripper had to argue more often. The makeup sex was fantastic.

****

They had met with the other team and had devised a plan. Stripper sat in
the back of T-Rex‟s SUV, deep in thought as they drove to Junction City. This
was it. All or nothing. They were either going to capture Reno or kill the man.
Either way, he wasn‟t going to get away again.
Gator had already done the recon on this and had found where Reno
was hiding. How the man had done that was a mystery that the guy wasn‟t
sharing with them. Gator had resources that Stripper and the others could only
wish for.
They pulled up a block over from the residential area where Reno was
supposed to be hiding out. They were going in under the cover of darkness.
Gator and his team geared up and were ready to roll as Stripper and the team
did the same.
Gator gazed around at the men with him. “Total silence. Stick to the
plan.”
They exited their vehicles, and Gator and his team disappeared. It was
eerie. One moment they were standing there, the next gone. T-Rex led
Stripper and Shott to the house in question, signaling them to surround the
place.
Stripper glanced to his right and could barely see one of Gator‟s
men—dressed completely in black, face camouflaged—sitting in one of the
trees, rifle aimed toward the house. The man was so still that, if Stripper
hadn‟t known what to look for, he would have never known the man was
there. The guy blended in perfectly with his surroundings.
Turning, Stripper concentrated on what he had to do. He pulled a device
from the side pocket on his pants and used it to disconnect the alarm system.
He gave a thumbs-up when the system went offline, dismantled. Tucking the
device back into his pants, he worked the lock on the side door and then
slipped inside the house.
The house was quiet. A small light glowed over the stove and Stripper
saw a light coming from a room just past the living room. The sound of
tapping could be heard. Someone was using a computer.
Stripper started forward and then stopped. He‟d nearly hit a tripwire. He
eased back and then stepped over it. He kept his back to the wall as he made
his way toward the glowing light of the room.
Turning the corner, he came face-to-face with one of Reno‟s men.
Stripper grabbed the man, pulled him into the kitchen, and put a sleeper hold
on him. The man struggled and scratched at Stripper‟s tight hold. But Stripper
wasn‟t going to let this man warn Reno. He held on until the guy slumped in
his arms.
He eased the man to the floor and then pulled his weapon. He was
determined to take Reno down. Dead or alive. He couldn‟t stop thinking of
what Reno had done to Bill or to Wilbur. His anger was there, eating away at
him now that he was this close to the guy.
Ducking low, Stripper did a quick head check to make sure no other
surprises were waiting for him. T-Rex was on the other side of the room, his
back to the hallway wall. When Stripper stepped into the living room, a bullet
whizzed past his head.
He dropped, rolled, and returned fire. Their element of surprise was
gone. Stripper was on his back, shooting the bastard who‟d taken a shot at
him. The guy fell to the floor as T-Rex spun, aimed, and fired at a man
Stripper hadn‟t even seen.
All hell broke loose. Men seemed to come from everywhere, trapping
Stripper and T-Rex. Stripper jumped behind the couch, shoved it over on its
side, and used the sofa for cover as he aimed and fired.
Someone fell behind him. Stripper turned to see a man slumped over
and Shott moving from a shadowed corner. Stripper‟s pulse was pounding in
his ears as he shoved his back into the sofa, grabbed the extra clip that had
been attached to his belt, and reloaded.
Pictures fell from the wall, glass shattered all around, and the stuffing in
the sofa began to hemorrhage. He snarled, spun, dropped to the floor, and shot
as many motherfuckers as he could. Something sharp and hot hit his shoulder.
Stripper ignored the pain as he rolled back and then came over the top of the
sofa, leaping on the closest guy. They fought hand-to-hand, something
Stripper specialized in.
T-Rex moved in, slamming the butt of his gun into one man‟s temple.
Shott moved around them and raced toward the room with the glowing light.
Their objective was to capture Reno.
Stripper took his man down, and then he and T-Rex headed toward the
room as well. But the only person in there was Shott. It was a small office, and
Stripper could tell that a laptop had been hooked up to the monitor, but it was
gone.
The window was wide open, the curtains blowing inward. Keeping his
gun in a tight hold, Stripper moved to the window and did a quick head check.
Gator was standing in the backyard, in the shadows, holding Reno in a
headlock.
Stripper turned around and glanced at T-Rex. “Gator has him.”
T-Rex moved to the window and signaled for Gator to bring Reno
inside. As soon as Reno was brought through the back door, Stripper cocked
his arm back and slammed his fist into the man‟s gut. Reno doubled over,
dropping the briefcase in his hand. Stripper straightened the man and hit him
again.
“Enough.” T-Rex grabbed Stripper‟s raised arm. “We all want a piece
of him, but we have work to do first.”
Reno spat blood onto the floor and then grinned menacingly at Stripper.
“You‟ll never get the codes. You‟ll never stop the transaction in time.”
One of Gator‟s men grabbed the briefcase from Reno, sat at the desk,
and began to punch keys. His fingers worked so fast that all Stripper could do
was stand there and watch while he prayed the guy could kill the transaction.
Stripper‟s eyes wandered back to Reno and red-hot anger once again filled
him. If it hadn‟t been for Reno, Wilbur‟s life wouldn‟t have been jeopardy.
His claws extended as his canines emerged. Reno laughed at him. “Too
bad I didn‟t kill that sniveling weasel. Wilbur begged for his life, you know.
The man pleaded with me not to kill him.”
Stripper closed the distance, grabbing Reno‟s hair and yanking the
man‟s head back. “Funny, you‟re about to do the same before this is over.”
A chair was brought into the living room, and Gator shoved Reno into
it. Gator aimed a gun at Reno‟s head as T-Rex moved in. T-Rex towered over
the man.
“I was paid to bring you in for justice,” T-Rex said. “But you‟ve fucked
with the wrong people, namely us. You stole information that could cripple
this country, intending to sell that information to our enemy.”
Reno spat at T-Rex. Although the guy looked like Wilbur, their
personalities were night and day. It was like looking at Wilbur‟s evil twin.
Stripper shuddered at the thought of his mate ever acting this way. He knew
Wilbur didn‟t have it in him to be this cunning and selfish, and Stripper was
glad.
“I want a lawyer,” Reno said.
T-Rex‟s expression was as eerie as a graveyard. “We aren‟t the cops,
and we don‟t follow the same protocol. You‟ll be lucky to make it out of this
house alive.”
“I have rights!” Reno snarled.
“Not with us you don‟t,” T-Rex stated. “If those transactions can‟t be
stopped, then I‟ll shoot you myself.”
Reno didn‟t seem fazed by T-Rex‟s threat—that is, until Stripper
swiped his leg out, with Reno crashing to the floor. Stripper was on the man,
sinking his canines deep into Reno‟s side. Reno cried out and then shifted.
Stripper took the man down when Reno‟s bear backed away.
“Tell us the password, or I‟ll let my guy tear your throat out,” T-Rex
said to Reno. “He‟ll kill you slowly and painfully.”
Stripper shook his head sideways and tore flesh from bone. Reno roared
and fell to his side before shifting back into his human form. He lay there
panting, sweating, with a good portion of his side missing. He was bleeding
out, and Stripper‟s bear wanted to finish what it‟d started.
“Wilbur.” Reno panted. “The passcode is Wilbur.”
“Did you get that?” T-Rex shouted to Gator‟s man, who was steadily
working on the program that Reno had purchased to break the codes.
“Got it,” the guy shouted back at him.
Stripper hovered over Reno, waiting for the man to make a wrong
move. Reno shifted back into his bear form but lay there without making a
move. The bastard was healing himself.
“Fuck!” Gator‟s man shouted. “That wasn‟t a passcode. That was a
trigger.”
“For what?” Gator asked as his eyes went from Reno to the office door.
“Give me a sec,” the man hollered back. A minute later the guy came
rushing from the room. His gaze darted to Gator. It was apparently important,
but the man didn‟t seem ruffled. “I killed the transactions but using the
password „Wilbur‟ set off a timer. We need to haul ass.”
“A timer?” Shott looked at the guy. “Please don‟t tell me we‟re running
from another bomb.”
The man shrugged as he and Gator headed toward the door. “Fine, I
won‟t tell you that you have less than a minute to get the fuck out of here.”
Stripper shifted. “What about Reno?”
T-Rex glared down at the guy and then shook his head. “Bring him.”
Stripper grabbed the bear still lying on the floor, bleeding, and dragged
toward the door. As soon as he was outside, Reno attacked. But his attack
didn‟t last long. The guy who‟d been perched up in the tree took a single shot,
ending Reno‟s life.
Stripper dropped the dead bear and hauled ass away from the house. It
exploded, sending large debris into the air.
“Damn it,” Shott said as they continued to make their way back to the
SUV. “If I have to run from one more exploding house, I‟m retiring.”
“You love your work too damn much to walk away,” T-Rex said as they
slipped into the SUV and took off. They would have to report to the company
who had hired them that the information had been destroyed, along with Reno.
But Stripper didn‟t care at this point. They‟d rescued Ms. O‟Connor,
what they‟d been paid to do. It was just a bonus that Reno was dead. He knew
Gator and his men were already heading out of town. And Stripper was okay
with that. Having Gator‟s team here wasn‟t a good thing. They lived for their
work, and Bear County was too slow-paced for them.
As they drove home, Stripper thought of the chaos and destruction Reno
had caused. A quick death had been too good for that man. He wanted to bring
Reno back and slowly kill the guy. But now that the threat was behind them,
Stripper had other worries to concentrate on.
After Wilbur‟s confession in the weapons room, Stripper knew he
couldn‟t shut the guy out. For better or worse, they were in this together, and
he would step up to the plate and be the mate Wilbur deserved.
 Chapter Fourteen

Two months later…

“Do you have everything?” Wilbur walked around the

bedroom—correction, waddled around the bedroom, trying to make sure they
had everything they would need. He was a nervous wreck and had packed and
unpacked, only to repack the diaper bag for the hundredth time.
Stripper was no better. He just stood in the middle of the room,
scratching at his head, glancing around. “I think so.”
The doctor wanted to take the baby a week early, foregoing the stress
Wilbur would go through during labor. He‟d called it a C-section. Wilbur was
not looking forward to any kind of surgery.
As a matter of fact, he was trembling at the thought. “Diapers?”
Stripper seemed to come out of his trance and nodded. “We have it all,
Wilbur.” His mate crossed the room and pulled Wilbur into strong arms. Over
the past two months, Stripper had been nothing but loving and attentive, no
matter how much Wilbur tried to rile the man up so they could have makeup
sex. Stripper hadn‟t taken the bait. Wilbur had been on bed rest for the past
month, and although he didn‟t want to have surgery, he was glad to get out of
the house.
They grabbed the diaper bag, the car seat, and Wilbur‟s overnight bag
and then headed downstairs. Everyone was standing there, waiting for them,
wishing Wilbur and Stripper good luck.
Steven stepped forward. He and Wilbur had become pretty good friends
over the past few months. The guy had sat with Wilbur often, helping him
pass the time as Wilbur suffered through the boredom of bed rest. They had
played checkers, cards, and had listened to all sorts of music. Turned out,
Steven was a very interesting man and had a witty sense of humor. Gabe,
Cameron, and Taylor had sat with him to, but it was Steven‟s visits that
Wilbur had looked forward to the most.
Steven handed Wilbur a stuffed bear. It was soft to the touch and was
brown and tan. “That‟s for the little guy or girl.”
Wilbur and Stripper had refused to know what the sex of their child
would be. They wanted to be surprised. “Thanks.” Wilbur took the stuffed toy,
and to his surprise, Steven hugged him.
“Remember, breathe,” Steven whispered to him. “Focus on your focal
point.”
Wilbur nodded and then moved to the door but stopped when he
reached T-Rex. He smiled up at the man. “When we first met, I really didn‟t
like you,” he said. T-Rex had been adamant that Wilbur was Reno. He knew
being a team leader meant T-Rex had to be tough as nails, but he‟d seen
another side to him as well “But you‟re an okay guy.”
T-Rex smiled and squeezed Wilbur‟s shoulder. “And you‟re still one of
a kind. Now go make Stripper a proud papa.”
Wilbur nodded and waddled out the door. Stripper helped him down the
steps and into the truck. Putting the seat belt on had become tricky since
Wilbur had grown to the size of a whale, but Stripper made sure it was in
place before his mate slipped behind the wheel.
“If you keep looking this calm, I‟m going to smack you,” Wilbur
threatened. “You‟re working my nerves.”
Stripper chuckled as he started the truck. “Trust me, I‟m quivering
shamelessly on the inside. But one of us has to remain in control.”
Wilbur narrowed his eyes. “You brought your Game Boy, didn‟t you?”
Stripper had the decency to look embarrassed. “I‟ve almost knocked the
Crimson King out a second place.”
Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Just don‟t pull the damn thing out in the
operating room, or I‟ll climb off that table and beat you senseless.”
“So violent,” Stripper said as he chuckled. “I promise to keep it in my
pocket until you‟ve been moved to your room and are fast asleep.”
His mate was hopeless.
They drove to the secluded clinic that employed nothing but bear
shifters and had only bear shifters as patients. The only human exceptions
were those mated to bear shifters. And since Wilbur was, off to grandmother‟s
house they went. Too bad he didn‟t have a basket full of goodies. Wilbur was
hungry. But he had been forbidden to eat anything after midnight.
He was ready to gnaw on the steering wheel.
They made it to the clinic too quickly in Wilbur‟s opinion. As soon as
the wooden building came into sight, his heart began to beat faster. Not only
because he was having surgery, but he was about to give birth. Wilbur was
about to meet the child that had been growing in him for months now.
“I‟m not ready to be a parent,” Wilbur said in a panic. “Can we come
back later, like next year?”
Stripper pulled the truck into the parking lot and cut the motor. He
turned and framed Wilbur‟s face with his hands. “You can do this, beautiful. I
have faith in you.”
Wilbur wished he had that much faith in himself. He was ready to get
out of the truck and waddle down the driveway, escaping. He took a deep and
cleansing breath before he nodded.
Stripper helped him out of the truck, and then the two walked inside.
Jennifer, the receptionist, gave them a warm and friendly smile. “You didn‟t
chicken out, Wilbur.”
He stuck his tongue out at her. “Showed you, didn‟t I?”
“Then let‟s get you back there and ready for surgery,” she said. Wilbur
spun around and tried to shuffle away, but Stripper grabbed him and steered
him to the door Jennifer was holding open.
“Oh no you don‟t,” Stripper said.
“Traitor,” Wilbur mumbled. “You‟re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am,” Stripper replied. “Even when you don‟t want to do something
that‟s necessary.”
“But who‟s gonna take care of Harry?” Wilbur asked. “Who‟s gonna
feed him tomorrow?”
“Steven agreed to look after your goldfish,” Stripper said. “Now stop
stalling and get your beautiful ass back there.”
Jennifer snickered as she led them to a room. The room held a bed with
railings, machines, and Doctor Gallagher. The man smiled at Wilbur as
Stripper stood by Wilbur's side.
“I‟ll let your mate help you get undressed. Once you‟re in your gown, I
want you up on the bed,” Doctor Gallagher said.
Wilbur nodded and let go of a shaky breath as the doctor and Jennifer
left the room. Wilbur was slightly embarrassed that he became hard when
Stripper began to undress him.
“Sorry,” Wilbur said.
Stripper shook his head before he placed a kiss on Wilbur‟s lips. “The
day your body stops reacting to me is the day I start worrying.”
Stripper helped him into his gown and then onto the bed. His mate
pulled the sheet up to Wilbur‟s lap before he went into the hallway and called
the doctor back in. Some other guy that Wilbur didn‟t know came into the
room with a small tray in his hand.
“This is Justin,” the doctor said. “He‟ll be putting your IV in.”
Justin gave Wilbur a friendly smile before he went to work setting
Wilbur up. The morning flew by as Wilbur was prepped. He had to ball into
the fetal position to have a spinal tap. By the time he was wheeled into the
operating room, he was feeling a bit loopy. The medication was kicking in.
“How do you feel?” Doctor Gallagher asked.
“Like I can wrestle a bear,” Wilbur answered and then laughed. This
made the doctor and Stripper smile. His mate was dressed in scrubs, a surgical
mask clutched in his hand. Wilbur was grinning from ear to ear. “You look
sexy in that outfit. See if you can keep it and we can play doctor. I‟ll be your
willing patient.”
Once Wilbur was settled in the operating room, Stripper leaned close,
his soft lips pressing against Wilbur‟s ear. “You‟re on.”
“On what?” Wilbur asked, quickly forgetting their conversation.
Stripper just shook his head and moved out of the way as the doctor moved in.
“Ready?” Doctor Gallagher asked.
“Let‟s get this party started,” Wilbur said and then lifted one arm and
pumped it. “Whoop. Whoop.”

****

Stripper‟s nerves had been drawn tight throughout the surgery.

Anything could‟ve gone wrong, and he worried the entire time about Wilbur.
But now that he stood in their private room at the clinic, holding his son
in his arms, Stripper‟s eyes were brimming with tears. He‟d never held such a
perfect creature in his arms before. Aside from Wilbur. His mate was in the
bed, fast asleep. Gallagher had assured Stripper that Wilbur was fine.
It wasn‟t until now that Stripper could finally breathe. Throughout
Wilbur‟s pregnancy, Stripper had been a bundle of raw nerves. He had
worried at every ache and pain that Wilbur experienced, his mind racing to the
worst-case scenario. But he kept his worries to himself and made sure he was
at Wilbur‟s beck and call.
“Look at you,” T-Rex said as he walked into the room. “You‟re a
natural.”
T-Rex crossed the room and peeked at the bundle curled in Stripper‟s
arms. “He looks just like you.”
“You think so?” Stripper asked. He felt his son looked more like
Wilbur. He couldn‟t wait for Wilbur to wake so they could share this moment.
The doctor had given Wilbur something so his mate wouldn‟t be in pain.
Gallagher had said he wanted Wilbur as comfortable as possible.
Shott and Sam walked in next, wide smiles on their faces. Shott took a
peek, and his smile grew. “Handsome little devil.”
“Thanks,” Stripper said. He took a seat, still nervous about holding a
bundle so small. He was afraid he would drop his son at any second.
“Does he have a name yet?” Sam asked as he set a bag on the table by
the window. There were balloons attached to the bag announcing, “It‟s a
Boy!” in blue letters.
 “What about Wilbur Junior?” T-Rex asked.
“And what will his nickname be, We-Jay?” Stripper asked. “Wilbur and
I discussed names. If we had a girl, we were going to name her Serenity. We
decided on Abriel for a boy‟s name.”
“Well, hello, Abriel,” T-Rex said as he bent at the waist and ran a
knuckle down Abriel‟s face. Stripper hid his smile when T-Rex started making
baby sounds.
“Please don‟t tell me that‟s my son,” Wilbur said groggily. “I did not
give birth to a dinosaur.”
T-Rex chuckled good-naturedly. “Welcome back to the land of the
living.”
Stripper waited until Wilbur was fully awake before he laid their son
into his mate‟s arms. His eyes widened slightly when tears began to trickle
down Wilbur‟s face.
“We‟ll step out into the hall,” Shott said as he ushered the two men out
of the room. “You two need a moment.”
“What‟s wrong, beautiful?” Stripper wiped Wilbur‟s tears away. “Are
you feeling okay?” He felt panic settle in and started to reach for the nurse‟s
call button when Wilbur shook his head.
“He‟s just so…perfect. I can‟t believe I made something so incredibly
handsome.”
“We,” Stripper corrected his mate as he ran his hand over Wilbur‟s
spiky, reddish-brown hair. “I did have something to do with it.”
Wilbur smiled at him. “You might‟ve had a small part in it.”
Wilbur had made it through his pregnancy without much complication.
Stripper had been blessed with a beautiful child and a mate who would be with
him for a very long time. Mistaken identity had led Stripper to Wilbur, the
love of his life, and Stripper was happy for that mistake every single moment
he spent in his mate‟s presence.
His mate gazed at him, and Stripper felt his heart melt. He brushed a
kiss over Wilbur‟s forehead and said, “I love you, Wilbur Castro.”
“I love you, too,” Wilbur replied. “But I still don‟t know where Ms.
O‟Connor is.”
A bark of laughter escaped Stripper as he hugged his mate and child,
feeling as if his life was now complete. “I have ways of making you talk.”
Wilbur wiggled his brows. “Just as long as you wear those scrubs.”
 THE END

WWW.LYNNHAGEN.COM

HTTP://FACEBOOK.COM/LYNNHAGEN.AUTHOR

LYNNHAGEN@YAHOO.COM
 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lynn Hagen loves writing about the somewhat flawed, but lovable. She
also loves a hero who can see past all the rough edges to find the shining
diamond of a beautiful heart.
You can find her on any given day curled up with her laptop and a cup
of hot java, letting the next set of characters tell their story.

For all titles by Lynn Hagen, please visit

www.bookstrand.com/lynn-hagen
 Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com