Page 13 of The Mobster's Mate

Amato didn’t move, but he was so close Caden could feel the heat from his palm like a phantom touch. His eyes fluttered. He wanted nothing more than to sink into that heat and let this commanding man and his wolf protect him.

“Go back to bed, kitten. We’ll get something for you to write with in the morning, and you can tell me what the fuck happened to you.”

Caden peeled his eyes back open and nodded, turning away without hesitation.

He wondered if what had happened to him in the Bad Place had somehow broken him. Why did he feel safer with that human gangster than he had any other time in his life since his parents died?

Why was he thinking about curling up next to him instead of running?

He could find a pack. Or go off on his own. Whatever he needed to start to get his life back together.

His fingers touched the leather of the collar. No, he needed to stay. He didn’t have time to find someone else to help him, and he needed to get it removed.

And then…

Then he’d find out if it was just circumstances or something else that was drawing him to that human.

He slipped back into bed, groaning silently at the ache in his bones and then shivering as he caught the scent of orange blossoms once again.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he heard Amato’s smooth voice again.

I protect what’s mine.

Chapter Four

If Quinten hadn’t barely slept the night before and already been awake, he’d have been really pissed off when his brother called him at quarter to seven in the morning.

“Hello?” he answered, pouring his first cup of coffee.

“Hey, big bro,” Liam said, his rumbly voice extra slow first thing in the morning. “So I asked around the rest of the pack as much as I could last night, and no one recognized the guy in the photo, though a few people had questions as to why I had a picture of a sleeping man on my phone, so thanks for that.”

Quinten smirked and took a sip of his coffee. “He was more unconscious than sleeping,” he provided.

“Yeah, I don’t think that actually helps. So what’s the story? Who is this guy?”

“That is the question,” Quinten said, moving around his kitchen island and taking a seat on one of the stools. “He was left for me in one of our warehouses, chained to the wall and wearing some sort of magical collar that doesn’t allow him to speak.”

“Holy shit,” Liam cursed quietly. “You don’t know who left him?”

“Well, he signed the note.”

“Note? There was a note left with him? What the hell kind of B-rated mystery movie are you living up there?”

Quinten ignored the extra commentary. “He left a note and signed his name to it, but I don’t recognize it. And so far, no one else has either. I’m waiting to hear back from Dominic on whether he was able to dig anything up.”

Liam hummed quietly and then didn’t say anything for a moment, but Quinten didn’t fill the silence. He didn’t need to. He knew his brother was thinking, using that big brain of his to try and figure out what was going on.

“What exactly did the note say?” Liam finally asked.

“Basically, something along the lines of, ‘I found something of yours. Say goodbye.’“ Quinten squinted into the dark liquid in his mug, trying to remember.

He wasn’t sure if Ginger had ended up with the note or someone else, but he should probably get it and see if there was something he’d missed at first glance.

“Well, that does sound kind of ominous, but only vaguely. It’s not like he was left there, half-dead.”

Quinten made a noise of agreement and took another sip.

“So this guy left you a chained-up man—”

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