Page 7 of Tossed into the Mob (The Wolves of La Luna Noir #4)

SEVEN

TREYTON

“We can do that.”

I had questions too, not so much for Brock, but for my family. I was fuming that they’d left us without answers, disappearing as if they’d been swallowed up. And Flint flippantly told my mate life would improve.

Brock wanted to know about his father’s life. He had nothing other than a blank canvas. No one had even offered him a photo.

My family weren’t usually so cold and unfeeling.

It’d been me, standing between the family and my human mate, though it was a role I’d gladly taken on when I discovered who Brock was.

But I’d been left without support, rudderless in a sea of unanswered questions.

I loved my cousins, but they were asshats this evening.

Even Grandpa hadn’t been any help other than to give us his car. I’d sensed he and Rudy were pleased to get rid of us when they kept looking at one another.

“Treyton, can you explain what happened tonight? I don’t know my father’s name. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

There was so much to unpack about the evening, but I was almost as clueless as Brock. But he’d made a good point. Could they be protecting his late father? Oh shit, what if he wasn’t dead but he was the gunman? Or he had been the gunman and now he was dead?

Maybe Brock and I had to undertake our own investigation.

“What can you tell me about the man who killed your father and shot you?”

I counted the seconds, wondering if he would reply and wished I was in bed with him so I could comfort him.

Not because I wanted to make love—of course I did—but because he was my mate and I couldn’t treat him as one, instead, keeping my distance and acting as a good friend.

That was what he needed, not a guy slobbering over him.

“Not much. He was dressed in black and had short dark hair.”

That didn’t help, but trauma affected people, so a witness’s memory wasn’t always reliable.

“But when he fired the gun at me, his eyes were so dark, as if there was something behind his gaze. Almost like his long line of ancestors were staring at me. But that’s silly, right?”

I sat up, my wolf did too. Goosebumps erupted on my skin. That vague description suggested the shooter was a shifter, because in our beast’s eyes were the souls of our forebearers.

“Not at all.”

Thoughts ricocheted around my head as I tried to fathom why someone wanted to eliminate a human omega who’d birthed a La Luna Noir guy’s child over two decades ago and kill said child.

“Treyton, you’ve been so kind and you saved my ass, but could you arrange a meeting tomorrow with Flint? As well as needing answers, I’d like to have something of my father’s. A book or a photo. Anything. And to learn something of his life.”

I picked up a muffled sob and couldn’t leave my mate alone to cry himself to sleep.

Sitting on the bed, I took him in my arms. Immediately I wished I’d chosen a smaller pair of PJs because the pants had slid down my hips and my ass was exposed.

Humans couldn’t see much in the dark, so Brock wouldn’t see my ass crack, though I’d bend over and show him my hole if he asked.

“Hey. Maybe the pack kept some of his possessions.” They could be at La Luna Noir headquarters.

“I’m especially sad because I have nothing from Dad, only the letter.

” More sobs wracked his body. “When we got to the hospital, they wouldn’t let me go with him.

” He explained he was so scared, he’d kissed his dad and then he was gone, surrounded by a bunch of people in scrubs.

“Later a doctor told me he died, and I don’t know what happened to his body because I fled. ”

He cried on my shoulder, his tears drenching my shirt. My mate was hurting and much of what he expected from Flint wasn’t forthcoming. But I could look into what happened to his dad’s remains. Once the killer had been apprehended, I would fly my mate home and pay for the burial or cremation.

“Let me find out.”

We went back and forth, with me asking questions about his dad and checking that news article regarding the shooting. When he gave me his address, it was less than ten miles from where I’d grown up, and I tucked that nugget away for the future.

I could have asked a favor of Ranger or Hunter to help me because they had police on the payroll who could contact their counterparts, but I wanted to do this for my mate. Besides, Ranger, in particular, had been an ass this evening.

After a number of calls to the police and the morgue, I was frustrated at being rebuffed. Brock suggested he speak to them, but I didn’t want anyone knowing his whereabouts, so I did the unthinkable and pretended to be Flint. We sounded nothing alike, but my wolf added gruffness to my voice.

Turned out my cousin’s name carried weight, even on the other side of the country.

“Mr. Durand, sir, your reputation precedes you.”

I had the phone on speaker. He didn’t know where the body was, but he agreed to find the relevant morgue and instruct them to keep Niles. When we were done, I added that I’d send him tickets to the football game of his choice. He thanked me over and over, so now I had to do it.

Brock flicked on a lamp. “Your cousin’s name opens doors.”

I confessed I’d never done that, and Flint would be pissed, but it was thrilling.

My body was tingling, thanks to a combination of being with my mate and falsifying my identity.

Maybe I was more of a Durand that I realized.

Or was it because I did something for my mate rather than him being shoved in different directions by my family’s whims?

“Do you do that often?”

It sounded like an accusation, and I was conflicted because this was a first and I’d done it for him, but on the flip side, adrenaline surged through my veins. Pretending to be someone else was exciting.

“No.”

“I liked it.”

“Me too,” I gushed. “Gods, the guy was practically bowing at me.”

But I was overcome with some remorse because that wasn’t me. I helped people bring babies into the world. That was my strength, but I had caught a glimpse of how addicting mafia life could be.

“Your cousin must wield a lot of power.”

“He does.” But not all of it was from his human side. His wolf had taken down humans and shifters.

Did we admit that now that we’d tasted power, we wanted more? That we’d be willing to kill to gain more of it?

Not you, Treyton. I’m the killer.

That was true, and I hadn’t been tested as to whether I could kill anyone. If I was defending Brock or other family members, then the answer was yes.

“I’m hungry.” Brock jumped out of bed, and I trailed behind him, checking out his ass while holding up my PJ pants.

He was rummaging in the fridge when I peered over his shoulder. The pack, or maybe just the family, kept this place for visitors, so it wasn’t well stocked. But we had fruit, crackers, cheese, and ramen noodles.

Brock picked up one pack of noodles, and I grabbed the other. “I love ramen,” we said in unison. He laughed, and the high-pitched sound filled my heart with joy. He had a long road of grieving ahead, but every now and then I caught glimpses of who he was before the tragedy.

We sat at the table eating the spicy noodles with chopsticks and slurping, because all noodle aficionados had to slurp.

“I need to ask another favor.”

“Anything.” I hoped to be doing him favors until I took my last breath.

“I know I said you could go back to your real life, but can you stay until I untangle who my father was and what happened to him?”

“I wouldn’t consider leaving until you say it’s okay.”

“You’re a good friend, Treyton.” He covered my hand with his, and my wolf howled, not from distress but because the jolt of the mating bond was almost painful. Warmth surged through my body, and I wondered if Brock sensed something, because his hand was flushed.

“Do you think life will ever go back to the way it was?”

I could lie and say yes, perhaps, I wasn’t sure, or I could speak for myself and say never.

“Different doesn’t always mean terrible. In this moment, it is, and though your dad isn’t here, his love is, and you are the person you are because of what he taught and modeled.”

His eyes glistened with tears which was his default setting since I met him. He was so brave to find me while escaping a killer.

“You’re lucky.”

“I am?” I agreed I was, but for an outsider looking in, one who’d had a brush with death, a mafia family might not be viewed as lucky.

“Your family may deal with death, violence, and bribes, but you have a lot of people who love you.” He sniffed.

“You’re not alone. My family is your family.” That was a bit much considering I hadn’t told him he was my mate, and other than being grateful, I’d seen no sign he was falling for me. But Grandpa said he was an honorary grandson.

“Oh really.” A smile plucked at his lips. “Blood drained from their faces when they met me, and the tension was so thick I could have bounced on it.”

“You have me.” For always, no matter where he was and who he was with. If he rejected me, I’d be the creepy stalker who sat outside his apartment at night, making sure he was okay.

“You’re a sweetheart.” He rewarded me with a full smile and then covered a yawn.

“I’m ready for bed.” His eyes locked on mine, and I told myself they were sending a message.

But it could have been, “You’re a good friend,” or “The bed in the trailer was crap and I’m looking forward to a better night. ”

He side-eyed my butt. “Might want to hitch those up.” He giggle snorted, and despite my super-speedy reflexes, I let go of my pants and they puddled around my feet.

Brock’s eyes were as wide as my family’s when they’d met him. He pursed his lips together and scooted off to bed. When I got into the room, he had one side of the bed turned down while he was facing the other way.

“Hope it’s okay to share my bed, but the heat from your body is calming.”

“No problem. And I got a smaller pair of pants,” I told him.

“Okay,” he mumbled, but seconds later, his slow breathing told me he was already asleep.

I lay awake most of the night, listening to my mate’s every breath. Before dawn, Brock rolled toward me and stuck out his hand. I took it and finally fell asleep.

At six, I reluctantly got up, made coffee, and jumped in the shower.

A scream filled the apartment. Brock. I raced into the living room, a towel draped around my hips.

The gun was in my pack in the other bedroom.

But my mate was alone in the den. He was staring at a row of photos on the wall.

Forgetting I held the towel in one hand, I grabbed him and followed his gaze.

“What is it?”

He raised a trembling hand at a pic in the middle of the lineup. “L-L-L-Look.”

I focused on the people I knew. Grandpa, Rudy, Ranger, Hunter, and Flint. They were all dressed casually and smiling, and they had their arms around one another. This was my first time seeing this particular photo. I guessed it’d been taken before any of them mated, so some years ago.

But there was one person at the end of the group. He was next to Rudy and his expression was more serious than the others, but his face was familiar and not because I’d met him before. This was why my family had reacted with shock when my mate walked in.

The guy and Brock looked alike. Not just a little, but it was obvious they were related. If we’d found a pic of him at Brock’s age, I guessed he and my mate would look like brothers.

“That’s my father.”