Page 3 of Tossed into the Mob (The Wolves of La Luna Noir #4)

THREE

TREYTON

I stared at Brock as he slept on the narrow couch.

We were supposed to be having “the talk” regarding who was after him and why he got me involved. Of course, if he hadn’t dragged me into this mess, I would never have met him, my mate.

But he’d drifted off to sleep, and he needed that more than unloading whatever weight he was carrying on those broad shoulders.

But now wasn’t the time to admire his physique, though I couldn’t resist a peek at his crotch.

Shame it was covered by a blanket. My beast pushed me to nuzzle our mate and revel in his scent, but that was a huge no-no.

I restrained him but did wonder what it would be like with my face nestled in the crook of Brock’s neck.

The antiseptic smell couldn't mask his scent that had hit me when we got in the car, and it was still wreaking havoc with my head.

But my wolf was pleased we were alone and far from the family who would have put Brock in handcuffs and tossed him in a small room while they decided what to do with him.

I’d cleaned and dressed his gunshot wound with the limited supplies from my car's first-aid kit. The bullet had missed the major arteries, and he'd need antibiotics and stitches eventually, but I'd done what I could, including administering a mild painkiller.

I was alternatively cursing myself for not disarming him the moment he pulled the gun and also thankful I had alone time with my mate before burdening him with knowledge of shifters and fate.

Maybe I should have called Grandpa or Flint and had them confront my kidnapper. But their methods were more bloodthirsty than mine, and I’d watched my grandfather pound meat with a cleaver. Ouch! Instead, I'd driven Brock to safety and was now playing nurse to him.

Because he's our mate, my wolf reminded me. And that’s your job.

I rubbed my face as exhaustion settled over me. The adrenaline from the kidnapping had worn off, and I longed to sleep. But Brock stirred, and I couldn’t resist running my gaze over his high cheekbones and noting how his hair flopped over his brow. Even with all the blood loss, he was gorgeous.

But we couldn’t stay cooped up in the trailer forever.

Why not? This place is nice.

It was almost as big as my apartment and a lot cheaper.

But I had to focus. Brock was injured and would need to see a doctor eventually, someone was trying to kill him, and he claimed knowledge of La Luna Noir. Maybe I’d risk a call to Grandpa and ask him questions in a roundabout way.

“I was wondering where you were,” he answered after one ring.

“Mmmm, sorry, I had the phone on silent.”

“What do you want to eat tomorrow night?”

My grandfather was all about food. “You decide, but ummm, Grandpa, other than Flint’s, Ranger’s, and Hunter’s mates, are there any humans in the pack?”

“No.” He hadn’t paused or given himself a moment to consider my question.

“We’re a shifter mafia pack. You know that.

And we stick together.” He continued by saying that even though my dad and uncle had moved away and broken with La Luna Noir, they would always be pack.

“Once you’re pack, you never look back.”

He laughed, and I rolled my eyes. That wasn’t a saying, just him making up a silly rhyme.

Either Brock was lying or he’d been fed the wrong information. But by whom? If I could question him, I might find out.

“Lamb. That’s what we’ll have.”

“I can’t wait.” We ended the call with I-love-yous.

Most of my life had been spent far from La Luna Noir. Both Grandpa’s kids didn’t want that life, and Madd, my brother and I had grown up close to Dad’s brother and his family. It was my career that had brought me here to La Luna Noir territory.

But I was part of the family, while separating their work and mine. On completing a hospital shift, I went home to my apartment after delivering babies, and having a gun pointed at me wasn’t routine. It was a first until today, or technically that was yesterday.

I couldn’t work out why Brock had come to me. I was the least visible member of the family. As the Alpha, Flint dealt with any complications. Except this was a hiccup with the potential to become a disaster.

But my wolf wasn’t interested in sharing our mate with my meddling family.

My phone buzzed again. This time it was a text from my brother, Madd.

Grandpa's making your favorite roast lamb for Sunday dinner. I can’t be there because of work.

That was tomorrow evening. The hospital bought my mono story, but my family wouldn’t, because shifters were immune to most human diseases.

I couldn't hide in this trailer forever. Eventually, Brock and I would have to have a conversation about what kind of trouble he was in, and how he thought my family could help him.

And I'd have to figure out what I was going to do about this mating bond that was making it impossible to think about anything except keeping him safe.

Now that he wasn’t in possession of the gun, I thought back to when he’d threatened me with the name La Luna Noir. If he hadn’t been my mate, I might have fake quivered and pretended to faint while the car careened across onto the other lane and I grabbed him by the throat.

He’s waking up. My wolf was making a cooing sound, but he said no, he was just excited.

"Where am I?”

“In a trailer.” I strolled the short distance toward the couch. “Remember me? Treyton.”

His face was blank for a few seconds, but I identified the moment he remembered. “I… ummm… yeah…” His head swiveled, and I pointed to his gun on the kitchen counter.

“I unloaded it.”

He peered out the window.

“Nope, no cavalry. But coffee’s coming.” I was brewing it on the tiny stove, and I popped bread in the toaster. “Peanut butter and jam?” He nodded, and I placed the coffee and toast in front of him. After he demolished one slice and I got him a second cup of coffee, I pulled up a stool.

“I understand you’re in pain.” This was a mistake because I was too close to him and his scent was taunting me.

But I could hardly shove the stool back.

And if I screwed up my face, he’d wonder what was wrong.

I imagined his emotions were so fraught it was like being on a tightrope with no way forward or back.

“Let’s start with who shot you.”

He pulled the mug to his mouth, took a gulp, and held it with both hands. “A man I don’t know.”

Great. Some weirdo shoots my mate for no reason, except I was pretty sure most shootings weren’t random.

“Any idea why he put a bullet in you as opposed to anyone else?”

Brock stared into his cup, biting his bottom lip, and when he looked up, the uncertainty was gone and replaced by not just sadness, but devastation. Tears glinted in his eyes, and he wiped them with the back of his hand.

“I’d seen him before when he…” He grabbed a cushion and shoved it in front of his face. I wanted to hug him and whisper that it would be okay. I outstretched my hand and pulled it back while Brock sobbed into the cushion.

“He came to our house, but my dad told me to hide.”

My belly roiled because this story wasn’t going to have a happy ending, and I told him to take his time. We had all day and most of tomorrow before my family would be out looking for me.

“He killed my dad.”

Oh gods, no. My mate’s family was embroiled in big trouble. Maybe they were mafia and this was a war. Much as I loved my extended family, I’d hoped to keep the distance I’d established.

But if my mate was part of that world, that might be my destiny too. I’d met many mafia members over the years. Admittedly most were shifters, but Brock didn’t fit the profile.

I had to push further, but I was reminded of how I dealt with my patients before performing a procedure that was necessary but was going to hurt.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how distressing that must be, but can you give me a hint as to why he was killed?”

“Probably because you and your family did something.” He sniffed and grabbed the napkins from last night’s burger feast.

My wolf wasn’t pleased about the accusation, but I reminded him this was our mate and to cool it. I asked Brock why he thought my family had been the culprits.

Brock gave me details of a car pulling up outside and his dad hiding him while giving instructions on where to find information he’d left.

“There were loud voices and a shot, and then I peered out under the house and watched the man leave.” He shivered. “I remember the tattoo on his arm.”

That didn’t explain how Brock made his way here.

He rambled on about there being a gun and letter in the lockbox from his dad, along with cash.

“He’d always said my alpha father was dead, but the letter said he was alive and he was an important person in the organization La Luna Noir. I looked up the name and discovered… ummm, yeah.”

Oh shit. No. I wanted to cover my ears and block out what he’d said.

He knew who and what we were, but what if we were related?

My cousins hadn’t been celibate during the years before they mated.

Technically they were my second cousins, so could Brock and I mate?

My heart was going to be ripped out if I couldn’t be with him.

But wait. Flint, Ranger, and Hunter weren’t old enough to have a son in his maybe mid-twenties? But if they reached adolescence early, maybe Flint? I slumped onto the couch beside Brock. Or it might be worse. Maybe Grandpa got frisky in his later years?

I put my head in my hands and then placed it between my legs, wanting to be sick.

“Are… are you okay?”

“No.” The nausea passed. I’d never suffered from it previously and wasn’t aware shifters ever did. “A little dizzy. I’m fine now.”

I breathed slowly and cleared my head. “Let's say that information is correct and your alpha father is connected to my family. Why me?” That was the second time I’d asked him that.

He shrugged. “Dad said in the letter that you’d help me.”

But how did his human father who lived across the country know my name? I tugged my ear, a habit I had when I was thinking. Maybe he’d seen that documentary last year. I was featured, and it was called “Twenty-Four Hours on Call in a Maternity and Paternity Ward.”

So this could be a con job and he was trying to swindle money from us. Ahhhh. What if Brock was a bad guy? Or my half-brother or third cousin removed?

I asked him for his alpha father’s name, but he didn’t have it.

He pulled the letter from the pocket over his heart.

It smelled moldy, so it had been written a while ago.

It was well thumbed and it scented of my mate, and there was another scent, similar to his but distinctive.

It had to be his dad’s. A name had been crossed out and mine written above it in a different pen.

It’d probably been added much later than the original details, because the ink wasn’t as faded.

After getting some details and doing a quick check on the phone, I pulled up an article about his father, Niles Lucchesi, being killed. They found the killer’s DNA, and cameras a block away had captured the guy fleeing, but they couldn’t see his face and the plates were fake.

Brock was telling the truth.

“I have to find my father, but first, I need protection from the guy who killed my dad and who tried to kill me.”

Protection we could provide. My pack was good at that. But his father? Were we to do a line-up to see which La Luna Noir member looked the most like my mate? Interrogate everyone? Insist on DNA tests? The pack respected the Alpha’s wishes, but Flint wouldn’t order anyone to submit their saliva.

“Who’s the head of your organization?”

“My cousin.”

He asked me to take him to Flint, but I couldn’t waltz into his office with this cockamamy story, especially with the added complication of him being my mate.

Maybe we could meet Flint privately. He could come here, but he’d be suspicious ‘cause I’d never made a similar request and he’d arrive with armed bodyguards and his brothers.

If I brought Brock to the family dinner, there’d be an uproar. His alpha father might be at the table, but it was the one place where only family was present. The bodyguards stayed outside. And with kids in the house, there’d be no bloodshed or cursing.

It was similar to ripping off a bandaid. I just had to do it. Even if we couldn’t mate, Brock would be safe and under the protection of our pack.

What do you mean you can’t mate?

It’s complicated.

“Tomorrow night, you’ll meet everyone.”