Page 12 of Tossed into the Mob (The Wolves of La Luna Noir #4)

TWELVE

brOCK

“It’s my turn to kidnap you."

We’d been at the food truck for hours chatting, and now the sun was going down and the truck owner had driven it away ages ago.

Treyton’s brows shot up. “Didn’t you do that already?”

I swatted him with a clean napkin. “Did you have to bring that up?”

“It’s how we met, Brock.” He tapped his head. “I’ve got it up here, and I rerun that moment lots.”

Shoot. I’d brought up a bad memory. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.’

He leaned over the table and did what he always did. He put his hand over mine and calmed me.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You were fighting for your life and wanting both protection and to avenge Niles. I’m proud of you.”

Awww. A mad desire came over me, and I wanted to grab his shirt and yank him closer, inhale that enticing aroma, and place my lips on his. But we were friends, and I refused to ruin that.

“Thanks.” I screwed up my face. “I’m not much of a kidnapper, though.”

“But my family talks about how you lunged at the bodyguard on Rudy’s porch, and I might have told them how you tossed your pack at one.” He gave me a thumbs-up. “You’re a legend.”

I blew on my nails and rubbed them on my shirt. I was a legend with the Durands, maybe in La Luna Noir, too. Cool. But I wanted to be someone to Treyton.

“Getting back to your kidnapping.” He placed both wrists together. “Where are you taking me hostage?”

“It doesn’t start until it’s dark, but it’s on the other side of town.” It should be perfect timing.

"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow, and my stomach did somersaults. "And where exactly are you taking your hostage?"

He reached for his keys, but I grabbed them from the table, beating him to it. I’d picked up some skills while mingling with shifters.

“You’re driving, but I’ll tell you where to go.”

The sun had sunk over the horizon when we rounded a corner, opposite our destination.

“We spent a lot of time together in cars.” Treyton’s, Grandpa Arnie’s, and Hunter’s, as well as two ride shares, but each one was stressful for different reasons. “I thought we could put those in the past and enjoy a movie night and snacks in a car.”

Treyton pumped his fists on the steering wheel. “I love the drive-in. What are we watching?”

I shrugged because I hadn’t paid much attention, and after sitting in the car for almost an hour with his scent zigzagging around me, my head was fuzzy. “Something scary.”

“Mafia shifters?” He struggled to hide a smile but couldn’t.

“Very funny. But you forget, I’ve spied it all—” Damn, I was trying to say I’d witnessed him shift and seen his wolf, but it kinda sounded as though I was talking about his cock.

I had glimpsed it when his PJ pants fell down and I must have seen it when he shifted back in the storage unit, but I’d just killed a guy, so I didn’t have dicks on the brain. Or in my hand, mouth, or hole.

“Friend zone, friend zone,” I repeated in my head. Treyton was too important to me. I couldn’t lose him. There’d be no sticking my tongue down his throat. My cheeks burned, and I wound down the window and stuck my head out as Treyton pulled into the drive-in.

“The snacks are as important as the movie,” he said.

I agreed, glad for the change of topic. We were early, so we parked and walked to the concession stand.

“I vote nachos.”

“Fries and ice cream so we can dip one in the other.”

I snuck him a quick glance, and he said he’d buy two of each ‘cause he could tell I wasn’t impressed.

“No. I love trying new things.” Treyton was one of those.

When we got back to the car, he grabbed a blanket from the back seat.

“No first-aid kit?” I smirked.

“In the trunk.” He smacked a hand on his brow. “Should I get it?”

His movement sent a wave of his scent crashing over me, and my cock reacted. Oh, no, no. This couldn’t be. I was Treyton’s friend, and I’d ruin that relationship if I grabbed his crotch.

“I can’t believe I forgot to ask you about your arm?”

I waved it around, bending and dipping it. “It’s healed and I have the tiniest scar.” I patted his shoulder, wishing we were in an older-style car with a bench seat and I could slide over to him. I craved his presence, and even being on the other side of the vehicle was too far away.

Perhaps this was a bad idea having us sit in the car together for hours.

Treyton adjusted the radio to the correct frequency and the advertisements blasted out. We agreed to eat the fries and ice cream first so the latter didn’t melt.

“Mmmm. Delicious.”

“Grandpa loves trickling olive oil on vanilla ice cream.”

“I’ll have to try that sometime.”

“He talks about you often, so if you visit him, you can try it.”

That wouldn’t be happening. I adored Grandpa Arnie, but what reason would I have to visit Treyton’s mafia shifter family? I couldn’t see me waltzing into their Sunday-night dinner, saying, “Hi, guys. I wanted to visit the scene of the crime, so can you give me the code for the storage unit?”

I didn’t think so. Besides, we’d never found a way to thank Flint for the apartment. Yes, I’d phoned and sent a letter from Dad and me, but a bottle of wine or a bunch of flowers wasn’t adequate for a million-dollar apartment, but maybe we were even because his guy shot us.

The opening credits rolled, and I sent sideways glances at Treyton. His profile in the flickering light sent goosebumps marching over my skin, and I pulled the blanket up to my chin. He adjusted the sound, but it was too loud, and I turned it down to the original volume.

Treyton pulled out the bag of candy we bought and offered it to me, his fingers brushing over mine as I took some. His touch was still soothing, but now it was accompanied by something else, like a surge. I almost wondered if he had one of those joy buzzers in his palm, but that was silly.

I concentrated on the screen, and Treyton squealed along with me as a zombie appeared through the mist. Zombies taking over cities and turning half the population kept my mind off Treyton with his new scent and calming touch.

When the action slowed and thoughts crept into my head, Treyton filled it, just as Treyton the man had kinda filled my empty spaces.

He shrieked, and I grabbed his hand, thinking he was going to fling himself out the door. Even though he had a big bad wolf inside him, zombies scared him. It was funny and sweet. And he didn’t let go of my hand. He needed me, and I held him tight, not ever wanting to let go.

Was this how it would be from now on? Two friends having a meal and watching a movie together every so often? He hadn’t explained why he had given up his job, but he’d shot at Riggs and his beast fought him, so that was probably distressing.

At intermission, I wanted more snacks.

“I’m full. No more for me.”

I opened the car door but froze as a look of horror appeared on Treyton’s face.

“Oh my god, what?” I gripped the plastic fork that had come with the nachos. Any bad guys had to get through me.

“Don’t laugh.”

I let out a long breath, and I guessed there was no one pointing a gun at my head.

“But I don’t want to be alone.” He glanced sideways and then straight ahead and lowered his voice. “There might be zombies lurking.” He jumped out of the car and raced around to my side.

I pursed my lips, trying to stem a laugh. Without saying a word, I offered him my hand. The tension in his face and shoulders vanished, and he gave me a small smile.

He lifted our joined hands into the air. “I feel so much better.”

I munched my way through more snacks during the second half of the movie using my right hand because my left was holding Treyton’s. And as he drove me home, he stared at shadows on either side of the car.

“I’m going to stay at my folks’ place tonight. I don’t want to stay by myself.”

“Good idea.”

We had two spare bedrooms, but Dad wasn’t up for visits just yet. He was seeing a therapist and attended daily physio sessions. I’d love him to meet Treyton but that moment wasn’t now, and he understood when I explained.

I didn’t get out of the car when he pulled up because I needed to talk to him about something I’d been putting off.

“Remember when we were in the storage unit?” He gave me a what the fuck? look, and I added, “I took the letters Emilio wrote but never sent.”

He mouthed “Oh,” and we both instinctively reached for one another.

From my pack, I pulled out the bundle of letters I’d been carrying around since that day. They were tied with a faded blue ribbon. From what everyone had told me about Emilio—how he tried to kill Flint and the others and would have killed Tony who was in labor too—the ribbon seemed out of place.

“I wanted to be with you when I read them.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Not with your dad?”

“No. In the future, maybe, depending on what they say, but not yet.”

He turned on the car’s interior lights, and I removed the letter from the bottom of the pack that was dated just after my birth.

My hands trembled as I held the faded paper, but a scent arose from the folds, the same one from the suit Treyton had worn and the photo album. It had to be his.

“I can’t,” I choked and gave it to Treyton. “Please. For me.”

Our hands brushed over one another and tamped down my anxiety.

He cleared his throat and read:

“My son, Brock. You are three days old, and before I handed you back to your dad, I memorized your face and brushed your tiny fingers over my cheeks, hoping you'd internalize my scent. I wish I could be part of your life.”

Tears spilled over my cheeks, and I rested my head on Treyton’s shoulder while breathing in his scent.

I gave him the next letter and the next, and he read out birthday wishes and Christmas greetings.

I was openly sobbing, trying to balance the image of a man who would have killed Treyton’s family because he was blinded by vengeance but who loved me from afar.

He mentioned Dad, saying he was his one true love, and my heart almost broke at the longing in those words, for him, Dad, and me. Though he didn’t say it outright, his letters confirmed he’d sent us money every month.

In the final one, dated days before his death, he wrote of something he had to do, saying “My boss was allowed to do what was denied to me so many years ago. I chose duty over love, and that has been killing me slowly all these years.”

I put a fist in my mouth and sobbed some more, the hacking sounds echoing around the car.

"He loved you both so much.” Treyton folded the final letter.

I sniffed and wiped away the last of my tears. What my father had done that resulted in his death was unforgivable. It would stain his memory for eternity, but perhaps I could keep a tiny piece of him in my heart. The part that loved me and Dad fiercely.

“I’m glad those old rules are gone.” Treyton turned off the lights.

“Yes, because your cousins couldn’t have mated otherwise.”

He frowned as if he’d forgotten their mates were human. “Right, my cousins.”

The light from my building created patterns on his face, and my heart ker-thunked at how he was eyeing me. His scent surrounded me, making me dizzy. But I’d caused him so much trouble, and we were friends. That was all it could ever be.

Friends, friends, friends. I repeated the words, trying to convince myself that was what we were, though the voice in my head hinted we could be more.

I’d accused his family of hiding secrets, but I’d been keeping my own truth on the down-low. Whatever this thing was between Treyton and me, perhaps it was time to find out.