Heat Rising [Brac Village 5] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (14 page)

“Rumors?” Spencer wanted to back away but didn’t want to give the impression that he was terrified. “They are hardly rumors. Everybody in town has seen you.” Who on earth pointed him out? It wasn’t like he was the only one talking about the man’s shameful behavior. Everywhere Spencer went he heard talk of Harley’s harem. Heck, Mr. Plume down at the pharmacy told anyone who listened about the town slut.

Mr. Plume’s words, not Spencer’s.

“But you are the one that Bailey has mentioned by name.” When Harley was a mere ten feet from him, Spencer spun around and raced away from the crazy human. Although Spencer was a shifter, he wasn’t a fighter.

Harley was too big to go toe-to-toe with. His best course of action was to get the heck out of there. But as Spencer ran, he wondered why on earth Bailey would mention him. All he had done was help the guy out.

No good deed goes unpunished.

That was what Styles said…a lot. It seemed he was right.

Spencer had only been in these woods one time, and that was when he and Bear had shifted. He was in unfamiliar territory and the panic was making him make small mistakes. But there were mistakes that would cost him if he wasn’t careful.

When his shoe snagged a root that was sticking up out of the ground, Spencer fell face-first. He cried out when he felt his nose snap. Blood started pouring down the front of his shirt. Spencer pushed to his hands and knees and then leaned back, yanking his shirt off and pressing it to his nose. He nearly passed out from pain when the fabric touched skin.

It had to be broken. He could heal if he shifted, but he couldn’t shift with the human after him. Having no choice, Spencer got to his feet and started running again. He became light-headed, his sense of smell gone as the blood continued to flow.

If a predator—aside from the wacko chasing him—were nearby, Spencer would have no clue. He chanced a glance over his shoulder but didn’t see anyone. Harley wasn’t a shifter. That alone should make Spencer feel better, but it didn’t.

Humans may not be able to hunt with honed accuracy like shifters could, but they knew how to hunt.

Spencer stopped running, placing his back to a tree as he pulled his shirt from his nose. The bleeding had slowed, but his nose was still throbbing painfully. His eyes kept sweeping the woods, looking for any sort of movement. After a few moments when he didn’t see anything, Spencer slowly and carefully walked back the way he had come.

He got turned around a few times, but soon the cabin came into view. Spencer couldn’t understand it. Harley had been advancing toward him. Any intelligent person would think that as Spencer ran, Harley would chase.

But the back of the house was empty. He carefully made his way to the steps that ran at the side of the house and led to the back porch. Bear was at work, having to pull an all-nighter. Spencer was here by himself. But he had thought he was safe.

As Spencer reached the side of the house, his heart lodged in his throat. He spotted Harley, but the man was sitting on the ground with his back against his truck. None of this made any sense to him.

Spencer backpedaled when Harley jumped to his feet, wondering if the man had just played it smart and was waiting on Spencer to return. “What the hell happened to you?”

His shirt was balled in his hand, temporarily forgotten. Spencer glanced down at it and saw the crimson stains. If Harley really hadn’t been after him… “What do you want?” he asked in aggravation.

Spencer had run for nothing and now he was sporting a broken nose. Harley had sufficiently placed himself on the top of Spencer’s list of people he didn’t like at the moment.

Harley’s eyes went to Spencer’s nose, but the man didn’t press his question about how Spencer had injured himself. Instead, he shoved his hands deep into his front pockets, leaning once again against his truck.

“I thought maybe you could talk to Bailey for me.”

Spencer was shocked. “I don’t even know you.” And there was no way Spencer would do
anything
to help this man hurt Bailey any further. The asshole had done enough damage already.

“Bailey seems to like you.” Harley started to move closer but Spencer held up his hand.

“I’m not sure what it is you’re up to, but you need to get off my property.” Technically it wasn’t his property, but Harley didn’t need to be clued in on that fact.

“I’m in love with Bailey.”

Spencer’s jaw hit the ground at Harley’s statement. The guy had to be off his flipping rocker. He couldn’t believe he was even standing here having this conversation. Not only was the guy a slut, he was twisted in the head. “With as many men as you sleep with, how in the fuck…why would you…” Spencer was at a loss.

“I’ve slept with three guys,” Harley said defensively. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business.”

“Three?” Spencer laughed the question and then winced when his nose reminded him that it was broken. “You know what? It doesn’t really matter to me. I’m not one of the idiots. Whatever you need to talk to Bailey about, do it yourself. You are not dragging me into your sordid business.”

“I’ve slept with Bailey. I’ve slept with Damon. And I screwed around with the guy at the Laundromat. I’m guilty for trying to date two guys at once. The guy at the Laundromat was someone I met when I first got to town. I didn’t even know Bailey then. We had sex twice and now he thinks he is in love with me.”

The man was so full of shit. “Why are you even telling me this stuff?”

“I told you. I’m in love with Bailey.”

Spencer quirked a brow. “And the cashier at the Village Mart?”

“That’s my cousin.”

“You’re sleeping with your cousin!” Spencer hadn’t meant to shout, but it seemed the man’s perversions knew no boundaries. He was going to be sick.

“God no!” Harley ran a hand down his face. “You’ve never thrown your arm over your cousin or brother’s shoulder?”

With Harley’s question, Spencer thought about Isaiah. His brother had been affectionate, always giving Spencer hugs. The memories made a spot inside Spencer—the spot where he held all of his fond memories of Isaiah—begin to ache with the loss of such a wonderful person. “Yes.”

Harley pulled his hands from his pockets, holding them out, palms up. It was as if he were pleading with Spencer. “I fucked up. I know this. I just need to know how to fix this.”

Spencer threw his hands up in the air. “How the hell should I know? Maybe if you kept your dick in your pants, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Thanks for pointing that out,” Harley said as he headed toward the driver’s door of his truck. He stopped and turned. “I have no clue why Bailey speaks so highly of you.”

Spencer threw his soiled shirt at the truck as Harley got in and pulled way. The nerve of that man! He wanted to chase Harley down and break
his
nose.

Aggravated and in pain, Spencer went inside to shift and heal. Hell if this boring town hadn’t turned upside down and become the most bizarre place to live lately.

Bear was just dozing off in the recliner when Sampson woke him up. The firefighter stood looming over him, waving his hand for Bear to get up. “Call just came in. We got to go.”

“Where’s the fire?” Bear asked as he rubbed his hands over his face, wishing he could get a few more hours of sleep. Before he had mated, working the night shift had never bothered Bear. It did now. He didn’t like leaving his mate alone. Bear didn’t like sleeping without having Spencer tucked in next to him. Once the new men who Maverick recommended in addition to Sampson and Flint started at the end of the month, Bear was finished with night shift.

Pushing from the chair, Bear muttered to himself, raking his fingers over his scalp. As the sleepiness began to lift, Bear noticed the quiet that seem to expand and fill the room. Why were they walking so slowly? Where was the blaring alarm? And where in the hell were the other firefighters?

The only thing Bear heard was the hum of the overhead fluorescent lights that tracked from the vacant media room down the hallway toward the sleeping quarters.

Bear watched Sampson turn left, going out into the bay.

“Where is everybody?” Bear asked, at just about the same time that he noticed the lights weren’t on in the bay. An arctic chill crawled up Bear’s spine at the oddity of not only the way Sampson was acting, but the tomb-like state the firehouse seemed to be in.

When Sampson didn’t answer him, Bear reached out and grabbed the man’s shoulder, pulling. His hand flew off of the guy’s shoulder as he raised them both until they were on either side of his head.

Sampson had a gun in his hand.

Bear’s eyes swept the bay, spotting Flint and Travis out cold on the cement floor next to the rig. There was a small pool of blood coming from under Flint. Bear prayed the man wasn’t dead. He didn’t understand what was going on. None of this made any sense to him.

Sampson extended his arm, the gun rising higher until it was square with Bear’s chest. “Where the fuck is Bailey?”

“How the hell should I know?” was Bear’s immediate response. He didn’t like seeing his men being hurt, and he most certainly did not like having a gun pointed at him. Sampson wasn’t standing close enough to him to get the gun out of his hand. He was just out of arm’s reach. All of the choices that ran through Bear’s head were no good. As quickly as he could shift, it wouldn’t be fast enough before Sampson shot him.

There was a sheen of sweat on Sampson’s cheeks, chin, and forehead. His free hand began to flap around as his face flushed. “I’ve torn this town upside down but I can’t find Bailey anywhere. I know you and your boyfriend were helping him. Where did you stash him?”

Bear could hardly contain the snarl that curled at the back of his throat at the human’s outburst. His own anger spiked dangerously, muscles tensed and ready for a fight. If only he could get the gun away from Sampson.

“I haven’t stashed him anywhere,” Bear answered. “What is this all about?” His eyes darted back over to the two prone men. He wanted to go over and check on them but knew Sampson would stop him.

Sampson was dragging his hand through his hair repeatedly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Bailey doesn’t love him. I do.” He tugged at his collar and then unbuttoned the top shirt button. “I’ve been in love with him for years. Bailey is screwing this up for me!”

Bear took a step back when Sampson’s voice became strained. The man’s agitation was climbing. “So you hurt Travis and Flint because someone doesn’t love you?” Bear was trying to grasp what in the fuck was going on.

Sampson moved abruptly, causing Bear to growl. Either the man hadn’t heard the animalistic sound or he was past the point of caring—which took him from stupid to deadly.

“They wouldn’t tell me where Bailey was!” Sampson took a step forward, shoving the gun toward Bear. “I didn’t want to hurt them. They should’ve just told me where he was.”

“Wait,” Bear said as he slowly lowered his hands. “Are you in love with Harley?” His brain finally kicked into gear as he put two and two together. The only person Bailey was seeing was Harley Grouper, the town slut.

Oh, this was getting better and better. It seemed one of his
love flames
had followed him here to Brac Village. Bear was ready to kill Sampson and then go after Mr. Gigolo.

“We are in love with each other,” Sampson heatedly corrected Bear. “Harley said he was in love with me. He told me he loved me. He even went to my brother when we first started dating, asking him to talk to me when I didn’t want to see Harley anymore, telling my brother that he was in love with me.”

If they were so in love, then why had Harley left Sampson? Why was Harley seeing other men? Bear was pretty sure the psychotic love was one-sided.

Just who in the fuck was this Harley guy and how had he managed to have a string of men obsessed over him? Bear had seen him and once again thought that the man did not possess the looks of a god. He knew there was more to a relationship than just appearances, but what the hell was Harley feeding these men? The line of bullshit had to be priceless.

“Why don’t you lower your gun and we’ll figure this out together?” Bear had to find a way to disarm the man. Travis and Flint needed his help. The scent of human blood reeked inside the bay, becoming an overpowering stench. Flint was bleeding out. If he wasn’t dead already, he would be soon.

“Do I look stupid to you?” Sampson’s hand gripped the gun tighter. “Call Bailey down here to the firehouse. Tell him someone called off and you need him to come in.”

Bear shook his head. “I won’t bring Bailey to his death.”

And animalistic sound ripped from Sampson’s throat. “Call him!” He moved closer, aiming the gun higher. “I wish I had known he was the bastard Harley was seeing. I would’ve killed him when I first arrived here. And here I thought it was only the vet assistant.”

A cold lump formed in Bear’s stomach. Had Sampson gone after Damon? Was the man lying somewhere bleeding, or worse? A thought occurred to Bear as he stood there staring into the cold, dead eyes of a sociopath. “You started those fires.” It was a blunt statement, spoken out of disbelief. “How? You were with us when we put them out.”

A twisted smile curved the side of Sampson’s mouth. It was a deviant, nefarious smile. “Twice I have tried to shove Bailey into the fire. Twice he has survived. The third fire was to get rid of the vet assistant. He was supposed to be working that night. But was he there? No,” Sampson shouted. “He was off with
my
Harley trying to seduce the man away from me. Don’t you see? Harley is innocent in all of this. He is weak and craves the flesh. If it wasn’t for Bailey, Tommy, and Damon, I would have him back already.”