Tormenting Her Mate (My Wicked Mates Book 3) Read online

Marcus traded in information and payment was due.

  “It wasn’t my idea.”

  No shit.

  “Then whose was it?”

  He paused a little too long and Marcus stared at him. “5603 Glenford.”

  The light dawned and the kid started to shake. Most did when confronted with their address and what his wolves could do with a small pack of weasels.

  “Charlie.” The kid swallowed, his voice coming out all squeaky. “He said he owed you for screwing up his family. That he’d show you he could take back what you owed him.”

  Shit. Was that a whisker?

  “What I owed him?”

  That was absolutely the funniest thing he’d heard today. But when the laugh escaped his lips, it was more like a growl.

  A fine sheen of fur spread over the kid’s arms and face.

  Much longer and he’d be trying to wrangle the little shit out of Ambrose’s jaws.

  “Don’t shift on me.”

  Charlie. Of course. He shouldn’t be surprised. He’d kept track of Astrid and her family since that night and when he was able to help her, he did. The rehab for her mother, and then nursing school. The money had to come from somewhere. Her father had left them with nothing. Astrid’s scholarship to college. She was still taking online classes but she was close to her degree. And Charlie. Worthless, and trouble any way you looked at it.

  “No. I mean, no sir. Charlie said something about his dad going missing after working for yours and the lousy way your dad treated his sister.”

  Oh. So that was how he was playing it, was he?

  “Did he happen to mention he knew exactly what the treatment was going to be for his sister but he let her father take her to be sold to pay off his gambling debts?” Marcus countered. Fucking little fuck. He never told Astrid what kind of loser her brother was. There didn’t seem much point. The only thing he could do was help her from afar. Let her think her father had a plan in place to provide for the family.

  Instead, a month after the altercation at the house, he shows up for a meeting with Marcus' father with a gun. Alligator bait.

  Charlie was the drug addicted son of the man who tried to murder his father and ended up in a gator’s stomach somewhere in the swamps of Louisiana. It was one of the only things Marcus father got right. Asshole deserved everything he had coming to him. The pack tore him to pieces and he'd watched.

  Astrid had stood at the makeshift funeral, stoic and staring, barely able to meet Marcus eyes from across the barren patch of earth. It sat between them like an open wound. Just like the man who stood at his side. No doubt he played a starring role in a few of her nightmares.

  His only consolation was he got to star in a few of his.

  But no more. Some monsters need to stay buried in the dark. It helped to see the casket close on his face and see it buried six feet under. Astrid didn’t get that option.

  That would have just added to the horrors she’d already had to endure and Marcus would save her from that if he could.

  He clenched his teeth and tried not to give in to the desire to plant his fist in the kid’s face or worse.

  “Get him out of here, Ambrose. Bring me Charlie, please.”

  “The others?”

  “Find out who they are for future endeavors, then make them scarce.”

  He might have to turn Lopez’s little pets on him someday. It was all about information and he needed to find out what else the alpha of the local coyote pack had been up to. He’d only met two coyotes in his life that were actually worth something. The rest were the scum of the earth.

  “God. Don’t kill me. Please…” The sound of blubbering filled the space and Marcus rubbed his temples in frustration.

  His wolf licked his lips, spoiling for a fight.

  So, Charlie thought he would carve a little piece out of him, did he?

  “You want to stay not dead?” He met the gaze of the terrified hacker. “Get the fuck out of my business and stay that way. Anything else you learned, forget it. Talk it up to your friends and you’re done.”

  He let the wolf shine in his eyes, his teeth sharpen to points. Let him think about that late at night and wonder what kind of drugs let him hallucinate that.

  Fucking weasel.

  He screamed and tried to scramble backward off the chair, mumbling insensible nonsense.

  The other man nodded, hoisting the kid out of the chair and hauling him unceremoniously from the room, the odor of piss and weasel following him out like a pungent cloud. Ambrose would handle things the way he always had, even when it was the two of them trying to protect the family’s holdings from his father’s asinine business decisions and later, his out of control drug use.

  The door opened moments later and Ambrose led a familiar looking young man inside. The years hadn’t been kind.

  Charlie glared at him, his lips pressed tight, an expression of contempt on his face. Instead of the teenage asshole Marcus remembered from the club, he was met with the haggard and sallow face of someone who hadn’t seen the light of day much at all. Nor was there much in the way of personal hygiene.

  Hmmm.

  If it had been anyone else, he would have shot him or torn out his throat without compunction. Instead, he was going to take back what was his, one way or the other, and Charlie was going to pay for what he had done.

  Ambrose tossed him in the same chair that had been occupied by his piss covered colleague.

  Marcus knew more about the young man in front of him than he would ever care to know. If it had to do with Astrid, he made it his business to know. From the mother who worked as a nurse at the hospital in North East Houston just outside the city, while Astrid worked as a bookstore manager at a chain bookstore off one of the main through fairs in the north side of town. He would get what he was owed, one way or another. Charlie Logan was living on borrowed time and interest was compiling. Fast.

  “What are you going to do to fix this?” Marcus placed his hands on the file in front of him, his eyes boring into Charlie’s. “Or do I fix it for you?” He handed him the pictures and watched awareness sink in. Pictures of his house. His mother and, of course, his sister.

  Of course, he never needed to know Marcus had never stopped keeping track of Astrid.

  “I…”

  Ambrose went to a black bag in the corner and pulled out a small computer. “Look familiar?” He sat it on the corner of the desk and flipped it open.

  Charlie paled and wiped at the sweat beading on his lip.

  “I don’t hear you talking.” Ambrose tightened his hold on the other man’s collar and he winced. He threw him out of the chair and on the floor in front of the desk.

  “It was Lopez,” Charlie stuttered, crawling to his feet. “They put me up to it. Said you’d never notice. That you deserved to take a hit for what you’d done to your father.”

  “Really? Local coyotes want a tangle with the pack?” Marcus watched him gather whatever wits he had left and reach for the computer. He slapped the lid down, catching the young man’s fingers between the keyboard and the screen. “You picked the wrong person to fuck with. Which of you is telling the truth, Charlie? Your buddy said you planned this all yourself.”

  “Mph! What do you want?” Charlie jumped back, clutching his hand to his stomach. Tears gathered in his bloodshot eyes and he defiantly blinked them away. Unbidden, Marcus mind flashed to a scene much like this one where he was the one on the other end of the table. The one who had to make the hard decisions to keep him and his family safe. He never regretted it. Not once.

  Lopez was an opportunistic bastard and now that Marcus father was dead, he was testing him to see how much he could take. He hadn’t learned his father’s lessons. Marcus gave better than he got when he'd taken out his eye.

  He fingered the jagged scar that edged across the top of his right hand, a gift from Lopez's father, and his eyes flickered once more to the window. There was everybody else with their little lives and then there was him. And
no one took what was his. Not anymore.

  “I want you to answer my question. Where is the money?”

  “I don’t have it.” Charlie met his stare head on, the first flash of anger sparking behind his gaze.

  Well, wasn’t that just a surprise?

  “You’re treading on thin ice. No way you could spend that much, that fast, even a little dope fiend like you.” Which brought him back to the same conclusion as before. Lopez. He’d worked hard to keep the streets under his control but Lopez had been and would always be the proverbial thorn in his side. First the father, and now the son. South of the city, Marcus didn’t give a shit about. Let them have their fun. But when that prick encroached on his people and his business, then fucking heads were going to roll.

  “I had debts. I…”

  The little fuck was telling the truth. But what was Marcus going to do about it? The gun winked at him from the desk, and he clenched his fist.

  “Boss?” Ambrose held out Charlie’s wallet. “I might have a solution.”

  “Go on.”

  “Put him to work. He can reverse it, can’t you kid?”

  His bland disinterest must have given him away.

  Nice that Ambrose tried, but it wasn’t something he was interested in. At least, not yet. One look in Charlie’s eyes told him he got that Marcus wasn’t going there. He stole. He was getting payback.

  Marcus' gaze lit on the picture of his sister. Long, brown hair, and a body built for sin, she had a face that made his dick hard. Those lips, so soft. So fuckable. They always had been. Even back when they were teenagers.

  But he wasn’t his father and Astrid wasn’t even in the picture. He’d done everything in his power to keep her out of it.

  “No.” The word was past his lips before he ever fully thought it through.

  But Charlie had been watching him. A sly expression slid over his face.

  “You want my sister.”

  There it was, laid out in the open and he couldn’t deny it.

  Charlie stared him down and swallowed. “Give me my phone.”

  Chapter Two

  Wine. She needed wine. Astrid sighed and reached for one of the crystal goblets in the cabinet above the sink. She let the door fall shut with a soft thud and let the events of the day filter through her tired mind. Foraging a half full bottle of chardonnay out of the fridge, she poured herself a taste and took a sip.

  Nir-freaking-vana.

  Yup. That would be perfect tonight.

  Her animal stretched under her skin, eager for a run.

  “Hang on a few, girl. Give me a chance to get out of these clothes first.”

  Scoping out the rest of the fridge’s contents, she located a container of cheddar cubes she’d planned on serving tonight with crackers and snuck a couple. The creamy, aged cheese was like manna on her tongue and she inhaled them in moments. No use getting too full before her bestie showed up. If she was lucky, maybe Andrea would spring for Chinese. Looking at her watch, she determined she had enough time to text her and see if she could snag some on the way over. It had been Astrid's turn last month and after the new set of tires she had to put on her car, it was about to be Ramen noodle city.

  She glanced at her phone and frowned when she saw the missed call, both at the avoidance and the guilty twinge in her belly when it came to dialing his number. Maybe she could just text him.

  Charlie called and that was never a good sign. Once, while she was at lunch, and the other while she waded through a particularly high stack of books at the information desk, the flock of students lining up to get a copy of the latest school read. The new semester had just started and they’d been deluged by textbook requests and a flurry of post inventory reports had taken roost in her inbox.

  Throw into the mix a chronic call out and she was ready to pull out her hair. She had a great crew. The rest of the person’s shifts were covered with a few texts and she could finally relax, thankful she had a week of vacation to look forward to.

  Astrid relished the soft hum of the television in the living room and Spookly’s persistent crunching as he demolished his bowl of cat food at her feet.

  “Jeez, Spook. Don’t inhale it.”

  The cat glowered at her with luminous green eyes and buried his furry gray face back into the bowl. She’d named him after a book they’d carried at the store one year and it just sort of stuck. Gray as mist and cranky as hell, he was her best friend. Well, except for Andrea. They were planning on getting together tonight for a binge movie watching session of A Princess Bride and she’d been looking forward to it for a month.

  What was it about Wesley that set her heart on fire? The smoldering way he looked at Buttercup? Or maybe it was the way he said, “As you wish” as if he were lavishing her with the naughtiest desires ever imagined.

  Not that she would know. All of her smuttastic adventures came from between the pages of her erotic novels. One of the advantages of working in a bookstore, she supposed. There were always new authors to explore and it always helped to recommend a title. But really, she just wanted the down time with a glass of wine and a good book to get her out of her own head for a while.

  Do not think about Charlie and his stupid drama.

  The stillness of Astrid's apartment was a soothing balm from the busy day. Her roommate, Joyce, wasn’t home and she breathed a guilty sigh of relief. Alone time was so hard to come by these days.

  It was Friday night and that meant her porcupine shifter roomie was most likely out on the town or on her way to the Inferno club she frequented every weekend. Good for her and even better for Astrid. She loved Joyce, but she hated it when they had movie night so it was just as well.

  The phone vibrated and she sighed. Fingers twitching, she started to reach for it and stopped herself. Wine first. Then she could look.

  She needed to text Andrea, but every time she even looked at the phone today it was Charlie being a pain in the ass. Damn him and his inability to get a life. He was supposed to be the older and more responsible one. She’d hoped when she got out on her own that he’d at least make an effort to move out of Mom’s house and get himself together, but it seemed like the opposite was true. She wasn’t there to pick up the pieces and a fresh new drama always lay on the horizon.

  Goody for her.

  “I’m not calling you. Not today.” Her temples throbbed.

  The phone sat next to her purse on the bar like a ticking time bomb. She scrunched her nose and couldn’t help but wonder what the excuse would be this time. Why had he called? Annoyance outweighed any concern she might have had. Charlie never got in touch with her unless he needed something and she wasn’t even sure she wanted to know what it was.

  Their parents had done him a disservice by coddling him at every turn and giving in to every whim. She was self-sufficient. With Dad missing and presumed dead, Mom had to clean up her act and get a real job. A nursing degree later, she was trying to work her way through the pain at the local hospital. If she could stay off the sauce long enough to do it. Too many memories of cleaning up after her drunken binges make Astrid a little doubtful.

  She'd moved out as soon as she could. A fresh start. Part of her wondered if her mother had been involved in her father’s decision to trade her in for his gambling debt. She never really got the chance to ask him. If her mother did know anything, she wasn’t saying.

  Charlie had done just the opposite. Following in their father’s footsteps, he had Charlie into gambling, drugs, and a lot of risky behavior with one of the local coyote packs. She’d stepped in last year when he landed in jail for trying to hack into a local business’s website. His lawyer had gotten him off but it worried her. More and more he was ending up on the wrong side of the law and it was exhausting just trying to keep up.

  Some days, she just turned off the ringer.

  It was hard not being involved in her family’s life, but to preserve her own tenuous grip on her apartment and job, she had no choice.

  Spookly edged
his way toward the water bowl and she sighed. She was one paycheck away from losing it all and that was a risk she couldn’t take. She wasn’t moving home to play nursemaid. No more.

  “You can forget it, bro.”

  Charlie was going to have to grow up. If he didn’t listen, he was going to have to feel. She didn’t have the energy or the financial wherewithal for anything else.

  She snagged her phone with a grimace and trudged into the living room. Another missed call from Charlie. Sighing, she shook her head. Not how she wanted to end her day. The phone lit up again and with a frustrated growl, Astrid slid the green answer button across the screen.

  “Hello?”

  “Asp?”

  God. He never called her that unless he wanted something.

  Her fox covered her nose with her paws and waited for the boom.

  “Hey. What’s up?” She tried to keep her voice light, but it took some serious effort. She set the wine glass on the coffee table, giving up any thought of a run now, kicked off her shoes, and settled in against the well-worn cushions of her roommate’s couch.

  He didn’t respond.

  “Charlie?”

  The breathing on the other end was the only clue he was still there.

  “I need you to come.” His voice was strained, guarded.

  Oh boy. Here we go. What trouble had he gotten into this time? She curled her legs beneath her and relaxed against the cushions for what she was pretty sure would be the sob story of the week.

  “Come where? I just got off work and I’m exhausted.” She rubbed her tired calves and winced as a charley horse shuddered through her left leg. She loved these heels, but damn they hurt.

  Muffled voices met her ears.

  “Are you there? Charlie?”

  God. Was he at a party? Irritation spiked through her attempt at mellow. No. He was at Torrid again when he knew that place was trouble.

  “Charlie,” she snapped. “If you’re going to call me, at least have the decency to stay on the phone.”

  “A guy will be there in a minute. I just wanted you to be ready.” His reply was stilted and unnatural and a sliver of icy trepidation worked its way down her spine.