Prickly Business (5 page)

“If it’s still bothering you after a week, come back and see me.”

Avery nodded and left the office with a murmured, “Thank you.”

When he got home, Avery selected one of his favorite albums from his collection of vinyl—Arcade Fire’s
The Suburbs
—and set it up to play softly as he brewed a mug of strong, organic chai tea. He loved the way vinyl sounded in comparison to digital recordings. It seemed richer, warmer, more immediate—as if he were sitting in the studio while the music was being produced. Nothing quite compared to it, and over the last several years, he’d amassed enough albums to fill the row of bookshelves that lined the wall in his living room.

Tea in hand, he settled down at his kitchen table to call his parents. Dread gnawed at his stomach as he unlocked his iPhone, pulled up his father’s contact, and dialed. It built into a nauseating frenzy with every unanswered ring, until, finally, right when he feared it would go to voice mail, the call connected.

“What did you do this time, boy?” his father asked by way of greeting. His Louisiana drawl sounded thicker than ever now that Avery had spent so many years in the Pacific Northwest. He wondered how his own accent sounded to his fellow Portlanders. He didn’t even notice it when he spoke anymore.

Avery thumbed the handle of his mug. “Hi, Daddy. Can’t I be calling to say hello?”

“Well, are you?”

Avery hesitated.

His father sighed. “Didn’t think so. So, what is it, boy? I don’t have all day.”

Avery took a fortifying sip of his tea. “I was wondering if you might be willing to send me my allowance for this month and next month early.”

“Early? Why? It’s been, what, a little over two weeks since the last deposit? Don’t tell me you already ran through that ten grand.”

“Oh, no, I haven’t used all of it yet, but….”

“But what?” his father asked, impatient, volume rising. “Spit it out.”

Avery swallowed nervously. No way could he tell his father why he needed the money now. With as much as his father hated wolves, he’d have Avery’s spines if he found out. “I… I was thinking—”

“I don’t care what you’ve been thinking,” his father interrupted. “What I want to know is why you can’t ever manage to save a dime. What single man with no responsibilities can’t survive off a hundred and twenty thousand dollars a year? What are you wasting that money on? I shudder to think what you’ll do when you come of age for the trust, I truly do.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts,’ Avery. Not today. You’ll get your money at the end of the month and not a second before.”

“Daddy—”

“Good-bye, Avery. I’m meeting François at the golf course in twenty minutes. I’ll tell your mama you said hello.”

The line went dead in his ear, and for a moment, Avery stared as his father’s number flashed on the screen. Then he dropped the phone on the table and rubbed his forehead with his uninjured hand.

What was he supposed to do now? He considered asking Jaden to front him the money, but he dismissed the thought seconds later. No, he couldn’t risk involving Jaden with Victor. This was a mess of his own creation, and he needed to create himself a way out of it.

A thought struck Avery, and he straightened in his chair. He peered around the loft, trying to decide what he could sell and what he couldn’t bear to part with. He’d never had cause to set foot in a pawn shop before, but there had to be one in the city. Time for a Google search.

A
WEEK
later his time had officially run out—and Avery still hadn’t managed to scrounge up the fifteen grand. He’d thought about trying to sell or take a loan against his Mini Cooper… until he remembered the title was in his father’s name. So instead, he’d pawned his two watches, sold some of his clothes, and even auctioned off a few of his rare, collectible vinyl albums on eBay. Altogether, he’d collected seven thousand dollars. That left him eight shy, and his deadline had whooshed by last night. He was surprised Josiah and Rory weren’t already on his doorstep, but then he paid to live in this building for a reason—the secured entry. They couldn’t get to his loft without him buzzing them in, though they could certainly be lying in wait for him outside.

Avery glanced down at his newly healed wrist and shuddered at the thought of what else the wolves might break if he ran into them. He’d have to stay inside. There was nothing for it.

By late afternoon on Sunday, he was going stir-crazy. Normally he didn’t mind solitude. But this wasn’t choosing to be alone. This was imprisonment, like sitting in a cell awaiting a court sentence. He couldn’t stand it. The idea of staying locked in his loft for another week made his skin crawl.

Finally his sanity was saved by a text from Sven, his yoga instructor and sometimes dinner companion, saying he had an emergency situation he needed to discuss with Avery in person. Desperate for fresh air and sunlight, Avery agreed to meet Sven at a nearby pub instead of inviting Sven to his loft. Surely Josiah and the others wouldn’t do anything in broad daylight. He’d be in public the whole time, and the Pearl District was always bustling. There’d be too many witnesses.

Avery walked to the brewery from which he often ordered takeout and settled at a table on the back patio to wait for Sven.
A couple of hours
, he thought.
Then I’ll go home.

When an hour had passed and Sven failed to show, Avery shrugged and ordered a black bean burger with sweet potato fries and a second Irish lager. He enjoyed his meal, checking his phone periodically for an update from Sven and basking in the last vestiges of sunshine.

By the time he’d finished his food, there was still no word. Maybe the emergency had prevented Sven from coming. Avery shot off one last text:
Going home. Everything ok? Call me when you can.

The sun was setting when he stepped outside and started home. He felt better for having escaped his loft for a while, no matter how briefly, and the sidewalks were still crowded enough he felt secure.

He’d almost made it back to his building when a car screeched up to the curb where he stood waiting to cross the street. One of the rear doors flew open, and before Avery could react, two meaty fists had locked onto his arms and forced him into the backseat.

His shout for help was cut off by a blow to the face that left him stunned. Avery cringed from the pain that exploded in his cheekbone. Then the world went black, and he felt nothing at all.

W
HEN
A
VERY
woke, he was in the woods and the moon shone brightly through the branches of the trees overhead. He sat up groggily. Nausea churned in his belly, and his entire body ached. What had happened? He couldn’t remember much beyond leaving the brewery and the loud squeal of tires. But what had come after?

“Welcome back,” said a familiar voice. “Nice of you to join us.”

Avery jerked his head around to find the source, wincing at the pierce of agony in his skull. It felt like someone had driven a red-hot spike into his temple and scrambled up his brains.

Josiah sneered down at him. “What’s the matter, hoggie? Headache?”

Fear lanced through Avery. For a second the nausea was so intense he thought he might vomit all over his lap. He swallowed hard, trying to fight the sensation back. “I-I have some of the money. I have seven grand. I can get it for you right now.”

“Seven grand?” Josiah repeated. “I seem to recall you owing Victor fifteen.” He glanced sideways. “Don’t you remember that, Ror?”

Rory grunted an affirmative. His head was cocked to the side as he stared at Avery. He was even bigger than Josiah and maybe twice as muscular. Rory wouldn’t be breaking Avery’s wrist—he’d be breaking Avery’s neck. And another wolf stood behind him.

Avery swallowed again, battling against the convulsive fluttering in the back of his throat. Oh God, he was going to puke all over himself. Puke and then probably get his arms and legs ripped off.
Fuck fuck fuck.

“Please. I can get you more,” he persisted, not too proud to beg now he was out here alone with three burly werewolves. He didn’t stand a chance against any one of them. Three of them together? There’d be nothing left of him. “Next Friday I’ll have the rest of it.”

“Victor doesn’t give extensions, hoggie. He expects payments when they’re due. And your time has run out.”

Avery shook his head and shot Josiah a beseeching look. “It’s not even another week. Five more days, and—”

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” Josiah went on as if Avery hadn’t spoken. “We’ll play a little game.”

Avery blinked up at him. “A g-game?”

Josiah clapped his hands together. “A hunting game. If you manage to evade us for one hour, we’ll give you the extra time. You can even have a minute head start.”

Avery searched Josiah’s face, trying to decide if the man was serious. By Josiah’s expression, and the laughing sneers of the wolves surrounding him, Avery couldn’t decide.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Josiah asked. “Your minute starts now.”

He lunged and Avery scrambled back. As Josiah and the others laughed, he forced himself to his feet. He had no clue where he was, but the location didn’t matter. He needed to be the hell away from here.

Avery’s legs wobbled during the first few steps. His head spun and the trees around him tilted. Somehow, despite it all, he pushed himself into a shambling run.

Avery considered himself to be in excellent shape, but while yoga had strengthened his body, it hadn’t prepared him for this. Uneven ground, trees, roots, rocks. His surroundings seemed to be working against him. Slippery leaves and mossy undergrowth nearly sent him sprawling. Suddenly, the monk-strap shoes that had looked so appealing in that fancy boutique struck him as a lot less sensible than a good pair of hiking boots.

Too late to consider that now. A howl alerted him to the fact the wolves had shifted and started their chase.

Terror kicked his heartbeat into overdrive. His extremities felt numb, as if his blood had turned to ice. Still, Avery pressed on.

Another howl, this one close enough that panic descended. Avery’s body locked up. He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t think, couldn’t run another step.

He felt the shift overtaking him. Gooseflesh erupted over every inch of his body. Then a rushing sensation, a sound like roaring water, and a sharp flare of pain as spines broke through skin. His field of vision narrowed as Avery shrank and the world grew large.

He hit the ground and didn’t bother trying to detangle himself from his clothing. Avery gave in to his survival instinct, curling into a tight ball, his spines erect to ward off predators.

Except with these predators, it was only a matter of time before they found him and tore him to shreds.

“C’
MON
,
MAN
.”
A sharp elbow from Lucas jostled Dylan from his daze. “You’re up.” He motioned to the pool table with a lift of his chin.

Not feeling it in the least, Dylan took his position, halfheartedly lined up the six ball for the corner pocket, called it, and shot. The cue ball clipped its intended target and sent it spinning wildly in the opposite direction, where it tagged the black ball and spiraled it into the side pocket. He straightened and tossed his pool cue to Sawyer, who stood gaping like a fish. Dylan couldn’t blame him. It’s not that it was a difficult shot—it wasn’t. He could make it in his sleep, but he’d been off his game all week, at work and in play. Goddamn hedgehog and his goddamn holier-than-thou ways.

Over the past week, a day hadn’t gone by that he hadn’t thought about the look on Avery’s face when he’d spotted Dylan with his date. Shock and hurt. The jealousy staring back at him from those big mossy eyes hadn’t been hidden well either. Then, as always, quicker than he could blink, Avery had his nose turned up and was walking away. Dylan needed a drink.

As if he was reading Dylan’s mind, Lucas appeared at his side with a stein of dark ale. It didn’t matter to Dylan what was in the glass. He had two requirements of his beverage for the night: cold and alcoholic. Preferably with the latter in excess. As they sat in silence, Dylan tossed his first drink back, gulping it in hopes of finding oblivion sooner rather than later.

Lucas was obviously waiting for Dylan to speak, but he didn’t feel like hashing it out. Instead, he downed the refreshing—and with any luck, mind-numbing—contents of the glass.

“Dude, I don’t—”

Dylan lifted his hand to stop whatever Lucas was going to say and signaled to a passing waitress for another drink.

“Not gonna talk about it,” Dylan murmured. There was nothing to say. He was having an off week. It would be over soon. Avery would disappear from his life again, and things would go back to normal. Like always. Until the little bastard popped up again to screw with Dylan’s head.

“Whatever, man.” Lucas sighed. “You may act like that prickly bastard doesn’t ruffle your fur, but you’re the only person you’re fooling, and I’m not convinced you don’t actually get why.”

“Oh, fuck you, Luc. My job—
our
job—isn’t good enough for the high and mighty asshole. He thinks fate screwed up giving him someone so far beneath his social level. I don’t care what he wants.” Dylan had worked damn hard to get where he was.

His shop—
Green’s Customs and Restorations
—was one of the best known in the Portland area for custom motorcycle design and repair. It was his pride and joy. He’d built his business from the ground up with the help and hard work of his friends and pack. He wouldn’t let anyone, mate or not, tell him it wasn’t good enough.

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Lucas said, “And you’ve never lost your shit and said something you didn’t mean? For Christ’s sake, D, you were the one teasing him about being a hedgehog in the first place.”

“That’s just it. I was teasing.”

“Did he know that? Look, man, I love you like a brother, but you can be pretty intense sometimes, and the kid didn’t even know you back then. How can you blame him for overreacting?”