Page 21

Crouching against the wall outside their temporary haven, Gideon watches as Leo tries the handle on the hotel room door over and over. It’s futile because, of course, it’s locked, and Jay has zero intention of opening it again.

No happier to be standing out in the hall than Leo, who is clutching his hastily grabbed bed sheet to his chest. He’s got his juicy butt bared to the world, so Gideon wastes no time in wrapping him up toga-style so that he doesn’t accidentally flash that nice older couple across the hall.

Poor thing hasn’t even had the luxury of his morning coffee and blueberry bran muffin, which are sadly on the other side of that closed door.

But it’s not his breakfast that has Leo’s forehead pressed against the door like he’s seriously considering slamming his shoulder into it and saying to hell with the consequences.

If Gideon weren’t the one being counted on to keep a clear head, he might be right there with him.

Because their usually calm, collected, and even-keeled Finn is rutting like a beast on the other side of that door, and they can’t even help or enjoy him for one damn second.

It’s the sudden scent of tears that throws Gideon off, because Leo is notoriously steadfast—the man you need in a crisis—and there’s no denying they are in crisis mode.

“Come here,” Gideon says, drawing him under his arm.

“I don’t know why I’m so upset,” Leo says, voice thick in his distress.

Gideon knows why.

Finn had gone through just eleven ruts, and in the beginning, while LRH was rapidly gaining popularity, Gideon had heard they even missed the start of one.

Jay always puts the pack first, but even moving heaven and earth, Finn had been without them for three days by the time they got to him. They’d come home to find him deeply unsettled, and his rut had lasted over a week.

No one in the pack wants him to suffer the feelings of being abandoned by pack members during the most vulnerable time in a Were’s life.

It makes perfect sense that Leo hates that he has to be on the other side of this door right now.

Sighing, Gideon squeezes his mate’s broad shoulder and relishes the closeness while they wait for Jay.

“I hate it, too. But we can’t all be under right now. We can’t do this in a human hotel, with no supplies and Carnell coming for us.”

They’re sound reasons, and Gideon’s not just trying to convince Leo.

His softhearted beta lets the tears come full force, his nose pressed to Gideon’s neck.

“I know you’re right. But he seemed—I don’t know—off? Not himself. Wilder, and confused.”

Gideon had witnessed that first-hand in the elevator. And that vision? That was not typical Finn.

Practical and as analytical as it was possible to be, he is a scientist to his core.

It’s a miracle that he gave the “dream” a chance.

Thank you, Goddess.

Maybe it had been because he was so close to his rut that the vision could pierce Finn’s sturdy mental walls, or maybe it was the vision itself that brought the rut on.

Gideon imagines that receiving divine intervention would trigger anyone’s wolf.

Threading his fingers through Leo’s hair, he pumps out his softest rain-soaked summer scent in an attempt to soothe away some of Leo’s sadness and drown out the scent of lush black currant seeping from under the door.

They both jump when the door springs open, and Jay stumbles through, dropping a duffle on the floor. It looks like Gideon’s, which gives him hope that there might be something in it big enough to cover Leo’s luscious ass.

Bending at the waist, their sweaty Pack Alpha heaves huge lungfuls of the hall’s antiseptic scent.

“Holy shit, I think I’m going to puke.” He doesn’t, though it’s clearly by sheer force of will.

His rotten wood smell is pervasive, and Leo retches in distress.

If it was difficult for Gideon and Leo to leave Finn, then it would take an iron will for their Pack Alpha to leave Finn on the other side of that door.

Mindful of dropping his “toga,” Leo rubs his hand over his mate’s spine, trying to soothe his stomach with as much contented cinnamon scent as he can, hoping to overpower the rotted wood.

Jay whimpers before sitting on his ass against the door, as if he can feel them on the other side.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. They’ll be fine.”

Fine.

Gideon is not prone to hyperbole, and the inanity of “fine” makes his ass itch.

Can’t people just say “We’re fucked” and fix it?

Cursing under his breath, Gideon digs through the duffle and pulls out a pair of black workout shorts, a black T-shirt, and a pair of shower flip-flops.

Thank fuck Leo won’t be barefoot.

“Put this shit on, Baby.” He hands the clothes to Leo and then holds the sheet up to block the room across the hall’s view.

When he’s done, Gideon drops the sheet in the floor’s utility room.

“Now what?” Leo asks.

“They’ve got some food and water for now, but we can’t let him rut here. What if there are other Weres on-site? That door isn’t rut-proof, that’s for sure.”

Jay rubs a hand over his face and hefts up the duffle.

No fucking kidding.

Gideon cannot imagine the uproar if a Were got a load of Finn, let alone sexed-up Nix .

Jay already smelled slightly of vanilla-sex, and he’d been in the room for five minutes.

So, they need a plan and they need it stat.

“Leo, let’s call your mommy.”

A grimace distorts Leo’s face at the mention of his mother. Who he hardly knows, apparently.

No one had been as surprised as Leo when Nix had dropped the bomb last night.

Turns out she’d spilled all kinds of secrets to him, including that her acting and modeling years were a cover for the WBCIA.

The fucking Were Branch of the Central Intelligence Agency.

Gideon is grudgingly impressed.

Combat training? Check.

Ammunition and Demolition training? Check.

Interrogation Techniques? Check.

The same woman who complained about his cooking and who can handle a knife better than he can in the kitchen was an international, peak-level spy.

Well, maybe that last one should have been a sign, because knife skills like that should have been a dead giveaway.

There’s an entirely different desk clerk looking at her phone when the elevator doors slide open into the lobby, and she smiles her welcome in that vague way hospitality workers have.

It’s not something Gideon has ever mastered, but Jay certainly has it in spades.

“I’m going to see if there are any messages or if we can borrow a phone.”

They leave Jay to it and take an uncomfortable seat in the small seating area in front of the windows.

The bright Florida sun fills the lobby, grating over Gideon’s last nerve, which means he’s a lot less tolerant of the desk clerk’s big eyes and hair-twirls as Jay leans one muscular arm on the top of the registration desk.

Gideon has been the object of that focus often; she doesn’t stand a chance.

“He’s got that charm turned up to eleven,” Leo mutters, with a nod of his chin toward the front desk, where Jay has moved on to the How you doin’ portion of the morning’s events.

“This is usually fun to watch, but right now all I can think about is how those smiles belong to us, and Finn—this is too hard.”

“You’re just riding the tail end of Finn’s pheromones. It’ll get better.”

“I’d rather be riding something else,” Leo grumbles.

Ditto, Gideon thinks, but he keeps it to himself.

“Thank you, Jenny. That’s so nice of you.”

Jay takes a seat beside Gideon on the tiny love seat offering the desk clerk a last wave.

“You made that look easy,” Gideon gripes and crosses his arms.

The second he says it, he feels his face go red, because that sounded a lot like Luca.

“Aw, Baby, you jealous?” Jay croons.

The big alpha really should have considered that Gideon has never once, ever cared about what other people thought about him or his relationships, because in the next instant, he’s got a mouthful of Gideon’s tongue and his hand around Jay’s neck in possession.

It’s hella gratifying when Gideon hears Jenny squeak.

“Guys. She’s gone,” Leo says.

Landing three final rough kisses to Jay’s lips before sucking his plush bottom in and pulling off with it caught between his sharp teeth, he mutters, “You should think harder about how you get what you want, Jaybird.”

Jay’s jaw drops open, and he falls back on the couch. “What is with everyone right now? Hot damn.”

That’s a fucking good question, and unfortunately, Gideon hasn’t any suitable answers.

“Damned if I know. What did she say?”

“I asked if there was a pay phone nearby because my phone was acting up and I didn’t have a replacement yet, and she offered me this.”

This is a phone card for the “house phone” in the corner of the room.

“Can you get your mom on the phone, Leo?”

Unsurprisingly, just as Nix had predicted, Leo did not know his mother’s cell phone number, although he apparently has had their landline number embedded in his brain since the first grade.

“Better than nothing. Let’s go,” Jay says.

The house phone in the lobby had an archaic, coiled cord attaching the handset to the base, and when he picks it up, there is a steady hum indicating the open line.

Jay shows him the directions on the back of the card, and it isn’t long before the phone is ringing.

“Hello?”

“Mama! It’s Leo. I can’t talk for long. Is Mom home?”

Gideon and Jay have no problem hearing Frankie, even when they’re not listening directly through the handset.

“Boo-Boo. Are you okay? Where’s your cell phone? Aren’t you in Florida? How is the weather?”

Jay taps his wrist, reminding him they have a few minutes to figure out what’s going on before the card’s minutes run out—and even less if they consider Finn and the others.

“Can you please put Mom on the phone?”

“She’s out at a meeting for a new movie, I think, very hush-hush. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was back in the game.”

She says the last part under her breath, but seems to realize her mistake and rushes to correct it.

“I mean, back into acting full time.”

Back in the game? Like the spy game?