Relieved the guy remembered him—they’d only met a few times—Rueben nodded. “Are you here looking for my brother, too?”
Draven grimaced. “I guess I don’t have to ask why you’re in town.”
Rueben leaned against the doorframe, taking the weight off his healing appendage. “Is that a yes?”
Exchanging looks with the two men with him, Draven’s gaze lingered on the big goateed man in the biker leathers. Wait, is Draven part of the biker gang with the other men? Either way, Draven seemed to wait until the big man gave a nearly imperceptible nod before turning back to Rueben.
“I think you should come with me,” Draven suggested cryptically.
Rueben felt his heart skip a beat. “Is he, is he…shit,” he hissed, running a hand through his sweaty hair.
“Nice going, dude,” the slender, dark-haired guy standing next to Draven muttered. He popped Draven on the back of the head.
Draven pinned a heated look at the man. “Not nice, beloved,” he growled.
The other man rolled his eyes. “Neither is freaking Ricky’s brother out.” The man turned to Rueben and held out a hand. “I’m Vail Tamang, this is Kontra Belikov. Your brother’s not dead or injured. There’s just…extenuating circumstances. We’ll explain everything inside,” he said, smiling encouragingly.
Rueben nodded, finally able to suck in a deep breath. Sure, he didn’t always get along with his brother, but he didn’t want anything to happen to the guy. He always hoped that someday Ricky would be able to accept the fact that Rueben was gay. So far, it hadn’t really happened.
“Let me get my stuff,” Rueben said absently, turning around and hobbling back to the weight bench. Tossing his towel over his shoulder, he settled his weight on his crutches and turned toward the waiting men.
Draven held open the door, his expression concerned, but wasn’t looking at Rueben. Instead, he stared at Kontra.
As Rueben hobbled across the pool area, he heard the guy introduced as Kontra grumble, “This just got a hell of a lot more complicated.”
Chapter Two
If he had to listen to one more slur, Lamar Jaworski thought he’d strangle Ricky Malone. The guy was the most close-minded, bigoted human he’d ever met. Not that he’d ever tried to tell anyone about paranormals before, but gods above, why did he have to be so stubborn?
Lamar managed to unclench his jaw long enough to snap, “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all?”
Ricky curled his lip, but before he could spew another round of vitriol, a knock sounded at the door.
Lamar strode to the room’s entrance, grateful for any interruption. A deep inhale at the door told Lamar that Yuma and Sam were on the other side. He opened the door and sneered, “Welcome to the shit-fest.”
Yuma’s brows shot up.
Sam snickered. “He’s still being an ass?” the big bull shifter asked.
Lamar scowled, more than ready to be done dealing with this man. “Of course.”
“Maybe some food will cheer him up,” Yuma suggested, always the optimist.
Lamar leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t think it likely, but they could hope.
Sam placed several bags of takeout on the small, round table. He turned and frowned at Ricky who sat on the bed, his back against the headboard, arms wrapped around his knees. The human glared right back at Sam.
Yuma huffed, placing his hands on his hips. “You know, this would be so much easier if you’d just mellow out. We don’t want to keep you here anymore than you want to stay here. All we need is your word that you won’t tell anyone about us.”
“Right,” Ricky snapped back. “You want me to keep my mouth shut about the biggest conspiracy…ever?”
“We could kill you, instead,” Sam stated gruffly. “How’d that be?”
Ricky’s face drained of color.
Lamar sighed and stared at the ceiling as if the answers on how to get through to this idiot would be written there. “What do we have to do that will convince you, huh?” he growled. “We’re decent guys. We try to do the right thing. You freaking out is putting a strain on everyone and making this ten times harder than it needs to be.”
Taking the plate Yuma handed him, Lamar fixed his gaze on Ricky. “Think about it. What, in the history of mankind, would make us believe that if shifters’ existence became common knowledge, we’d be left alone?” Lamar snarled. “Every human minority group in existence has been persecuted at one time or another. Some still are.”