Page 3 of Cuddles for the Bear
“Saves me calling a plumber, I suppose.” Wren closed his eyes as he heard Michael stomp away. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, or you’d get a damn good thrashing. Get that toilet fixed and then finish the dishes. The kitchen needs to be scrubbedfrom top to bottom, and I want that done before you think of sleeping tonight. Every single cupboard inside and out, and don’t forget the oven, the refrigerator, and the freezer. I want that place completely spotless before you make me breakfast in the morning.”
The sobs came as Michael slammed the door shut.I hate my life.Wren savagely forced the plunger into the toilet and out again, even though there’d been nothing blocking it in the first place.Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.
Using the side of the toilet bowl as leverage, Wren stood up, his knees complaining after their time on the floor. As he cleaned up the plunger, his hands, and wiped the water droplets off the toilet, he spared a thought for his anonymous friend, Bear. More specifically, how he’d stopped messaging mid-sentence and then gone offline.You probably hate me now, too.
Bear had said once that he was an assassin, and as Wren washed the tears from his cheeks, he really wished that was true, the same as he had at least a dozen times since he’d first read that message. Michael was getting tired of him. Wren could see the writing on the wall. His rages were more frequent, the beatings were longer, and the man seemed to be drunk every night of the week.
It hadn’t been so bad when Michael had a girlfriend. He would be out more often, sometimes even staying out all night. But the last girlfriend had been gone for more than a month now. One day the man was going to come home, angry about something, and Wren’s life expectancy would be cut short. He wasn’t under any illusions about that.
Oh, Bear, I’m so sorry. But perhaps it’s just as well our conversation got cut short.Because Wren knew the only person who had a chance of taking Michael out would have to be atrained assassin or someone with similar skills.How I wish people like that actually existed. More importantly, I wish even just one of them knew about me.
Chapter Three
“I do wish you had come and talked to me about this earlier.” Cyrus and Python were sprawled out on the couch in the little apartment above Cyrus’s workshop. It was only a two-minute walk from the Assassin’s Alley itself, and Devon was pleased that he had caught them alone and semi-dressed.
“Er…I don’t know what you mean. Why would I inform you about a random online friendship? There was nothing to tell…well, mostly. I should’ve mentioned I’d disclosed my work, but that was one random conversation among many.”
Devon was caught off guard by Cyrus’s apparent casual attitude. “Do you mean you knew I was talking with BlueKnight64? Since when?”
“We’ve been tracking that conversation for about six months,” Cyrus said. “You weren’t the focus of the initial investigation – it was BK’s situation that was the cause of concern. Originally it was determined by the powers that be that we weren’t going to interfere because you were keeping an eye on your young friend, which was what was needed.
“Even telling him about your work – you didn’t disclose where you were or put anyone else at risk, and honestly, it was hoped that your friend would be reassured by the admission and see you as someone who might help him. At that point, the situation wasn’t getting much worse than it already was.”
Devon felt his heart drop to his stomach. “Wait, are you telling me the situation that BlueKnight64 is in is one that’s caught the agency’s notice? What’s happened? Who’s he being trapped by? I...”
He paced up and down, tugging at his hair. “I didn’t feel at any point that he was in a situation where I needed to intervene untiltonight. There were a few little things I noticed, of course, I did. He never mentioned friends or going out anywhere, but he could have easily been introverted or even be physically challenged in some way, limiting his ability to go out. I… It never clicked that there was anything sinister about his situation.
“It was only in this last conversation that he said about how he wasn’t allowed out and how this person kept calling him ‘mine.’ And even then, I mean, what could I say if this were a mating situation?”
Devon flung his arms wide as he turned toward his friends. “Think about that. What if BlueKnight64 is human and doesn’t understand the nuances around being the fated mate of a shifter or a vampire? All paranormals are possessive about their mates.”
“Yeah, mates also treat their partners with love and respect – did you forget that bit? Your BlueKnight64’s not mated and there’s a good chance he’s not human either,” Python said in a drawl. “Believe me, he probably wishes he were, because he’d be treated a damn sight better than he is. But still…I’m sorry, babe,” he said to Cyrus, patting his knee. “You’re the handler here, you can handle it.”
“Like you don’t stick your nose in agency business every five minutes.” Cyrus chuckled. “Put bluntly, BK was paid for.”
Devon’s knees gave out, and he dropped to the floor. All he could think of was the witty posts, the way BK made him laugh on days when he didn’t think it would be possible to do that again. His legs couldn’t hold him up anymore, and when he tried to respond, the lump in his throat wouldn’t let a word out.All this time, and he was selling himself…?
Cyrus, who quickly graduated to certified asshole in Devon’s opinion, laughed. “Oh, my gods, you should see your face. You really jumped to the wrong idea, didn’t you?”
Devon glared. It was the best reaction he could manage, his mind still processing a hurt he didn’t fully understand.He had to have a good reason. Lots of people do that sort of thing. I’ve paid for services a time or two in the past…But for some reason, Cyrus’s statement just didn’t jibe with all he believed about his online friend.
“I’m sorry. That was mean of me,” Cyrus said softly, clearly realizing Devon didn’t see the joke. “I should’ve been more specific. BK is a slave, purchased from his parents – apparently, although that’s debatable - when he was fourteen years old.”
“Fourteen?” Devon shook his head. “That can’t be right. I…I remember celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday with him a few months ago. Was he lying to me?”
“No.” Cyrus looked grim. “Your online friend has been a slave for nine…no, it’s eleven years now. Sorry, math is not in my skillset. BK is twenty-five. That’s what’s got the agency concerned and why I wished you’d come and talked to me about this situation sooner - when you shared your line of work with him, for example.”
“I didn’t know about any of this.” Devon huffed. “What’s the significance of this young man being twenty-five, apart from him being a legal adult in most paranormal circles?”
“Put bluntly, the guy who bought him is bored with him. From what interactions have shown, and from the information we’ve been given, BlueKnight64 used to be very fearful, very submissive. Not in a sexual way,” Python broke in. “That’s the one redeeming feature in all of this mess. Their relationship isn’t like that. But this piece of shit has already been making yourlittle online warrior realize that his days are...yeah, he’s not got much of a future. BK knows who this person is. He knows far too much. He’s probably not aware of what he does know. But as the person holding him is paranormal, it is on us to take care of him.”
“Take him out, you mean,” Cyrus said. “We want to take out the bad guys.”
“To me, they’re much in the same thing.” Python shrugged.
“Gods, I hope not.” Cyrus laughed as he nudged his partner. “I don’t mind you taking care of me, but see what happens to you if you try taking me out.”
“Oh, my heart!” Python was always quick to ham up any situation. He slapped his hand against his chest and mock-swooned. “I can’t believe you don’t want me to take you out anymore. No more dates or sexy dinners alone.” Then he laughed. “As if I would ever be without you, my darling mate.”
