Page 9 of Matched into the Mob

But what would I say if I found him? “Hi, remember me? I was the tongue-tied guy from this evening, and by the way, I’m your mate.”

My beast didn’t see a problem with that, saying we could be mated and go on with our lives. He hadn’t been around many humans since our college days and had forgotten their rituals.

My belly grumbled. I hadn’t eaten dinner and had forgone the snacks at headquarters, my mind only on my mate. I ordered takeout, the delivery guy on a motorbike giving me an odd look when he pulled up to my flashy car. I tipped him well because it was raining again and he was drenched, and he rewarded me with a smile.

As the evening wore on, one by one, the apartments went dark, no longer lighting up the grimy windows. I longed to roam through the building, tracing my mate’s scent, and when I found his apartment, I’d hug the door. But that would be more creepy than stalking him by sitting outside his building all night.

When dawn broke, my foul breath reeked of garlic and chili, and I rummaged in the glove compartment for gum and ordered coffee and a bagel. On impulse I got an extra drink because this was a two-coffee day.

I’d finished eating and was sipping the hot latte when my mate emerged from the building. He glanced around, but my super-quick shifter reflexes ensured I slid down on the seat before he looked toward my vehicle.

It was drizzling, and his umbrella was broken and provided little protection from the rain. He took off in a car with rusted paint and a dent on the driver’s side, and I followed. But the guy drove an odd route, turning one way, backtracking, and seemingly wandering aimlessly through the city. I recognized the maneuver because it was what I’d done countless times when on a job and often still did; he was making sure no one was following him.

Perhaps he was smarter than I thought.

The phone rang, and I put it on speaker. It was Nate, our pack member from the newspaper who I’d asked to look into the articles they’re published about us being scumbags.

“I did some digging and came up with something unexpected.”

“Like what?” I asked, wishing he’d get to the point.

“Seems there’s an investigative reporter working undercover with The Obsidian Circle. It’s very hush-hush.” He’d only discovered it because of his shifter hearing when the big boss whispered into his phone in the stairwell.

My heart sped up, and I broke out in a sweat, not wanting to discover who it was.

“You want a name?”

No, I wanted to pretend this phone call never happened, that I could rewind time and not ask Nate to look into the slanderous articles.

“Okay.” Tempted to end the call, I snatched the device out of the hands-free holder and gripped it, the metal cold against my palm while my shifter strength was close to crushing it.

“Matt Leroy.”

Hawk hadn’t remembered the guy’s name for certain last night. “Give me a description?”

He did one better; he sent a pic.

I sat in the car, wondering what I’d done to the universe as I stared at the photo of my mate.

FIVE

MATT

“You ruined a perfectly good evening.” Josh fumed as he sped along the road, ignoring the speed limit. “I would never have found out about the event if I hadn’t been sitting beside someone in a coffee shop talking on the phone.” He described the guy waxing on about it and giving the time and location.

There was so much I couldn’t tell him, but even my brother who only saw the positive in every situation couldn't have ignored the tension so thick I could have tied it in a knot. The glances from the men scattered around the room had not been “we want to date you,” but more “who the fuck are these people?”

“It’s not what you think.” I pressed my feet on the imaginary brakes as Josh avoided a collision with the car in front of us.

“I didn’t just arrange this for you, Matt. I needed an outlet from my day-to-day life. I’d like someone to take me in their arms when I get home from work.”

Shit! I’d been selfish thinking only of myself, assuming Josh could take the world’s problems on his shoulders and never flounder. But with my undercover identity possibly… more like probably… exposed, I had to think of me right now, though itoccurred to me Josh could be in danger if Dane and his crew came looking for me.

“I’m sorry, but don’t you have an old school friend living on a farm outside the city?”

His nostrils flared and slammed his foot on the accelerator. “What is wrong with you?” he shouted. “Maybe you need a vacation.”

I definitely did, but I ignored his anger. “Go stay with him. Take a few days off. Doing that will keep you safe.” I hoped.

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