Do my duty… sex my mate… duty… mate… duty… sex…Ugh, Beaumont was driving himself nuts as his brain swung from one direction to the other. Yes, his bite was already scarred on Duron’s shoulder—they even had a mind link—but his cock wanted in on the action, too, and yet… Beaumont hesitated.
If they were alone, on a different mission, there would be no hesitation. Duron would be back in the same sexy position he’d been in before some bastards decided to use military-grade bombs on the Putney’s family home. Beaumont could multi-task—he could spend time staking his claimfullyon his mate before heading out to cause mayhem and bring down the Devil and his crew.
But they weren’t alone, and Beaumont had been a council member long enough to recognize Kylo, in particular, was a man on his last nerve. So, instead of dragging his mate to the nearest flat surface, he picked through the debris in their room, shifted and grabbed pants for himself, and put them on. If he was grumbling under his breath all the while, only he would know.
Or maybe Duron would know, too, because the man was watching him, his eyes showing a multitude of beasts. Like him, Duron had gotten pants from somewhere, and a tight T-shirt that looked two sizes too small. Taking a moment to appreciate the scenery, and then letting out a long breath, Beaumont pulled one of his ratty band T-shirts from his dusty bag and dragged that on too.
“I don’t want you thinking you’re not important,” he said as he tugged the neck of his T-shirt over his head. Emerging from the other side, he shook out his hair as he put his arms where they were meant to be, smoothing his shirt over his body.
“Why did you feel the need to say that?”
Beaumont stopped for a moment. Duron was serious. He thought back to the only significant relationship he’d ever had—his marriage to Eugenie—she’d told him once he had to use his words, and he’d listened and changed accordingly.
Duron wasn’t Eugenie. There was no comparison. In a way Beaumont felt his new mate would need more reassurance about their connection than Eugenie ever had. Eugenie had been raised to hope for, if not love exactly because women weren’t raised that way back then, then definitely affection and consideration. Duron hadn’t had that in his life.
Stepping closer, he rested his hands on Duron’s chest. The man was taller than him by a couple of inches. Just enough that he had to look up if he wanted to meet Duron’s eyes, and he did. “Our relationship, the one between you and me, should and will be the most important thing in our lives. That’s the way it is between mates. Everything we do, everywhere we go, anything in our lives will always be done as a collaboration between the two of us. Our animal sides won’t allow anything less.”
Duron nodded slowly.
“This situation is not ideal.” Beaumont waved at the mess in the room. “I’d be a lot more comfortable in my own space, or maybe not,” he added, thinking of his sterile place of residence, “but in a place where we could be truly alone. However, those men out there need our input and skills. It was why you were called to Paraguay. I have to bring down this Devil person. I have to see him stopped once and for all.”
To Duron’s credit, he didn’t ask why. He didn’t question whether the leader of the shifter council would bother to be out in the field on a mission themselves. It’s not like there weren’t a hundred other people Beaumont could employ to do the things he wanted done. He could sit in his office, buried under paperwork, and read the report when the case was over. But no, Beaumont couldn’t do that. His gut told him the business with the Devil was personal, and not necessarily because of his friendship with Ben, and the manner in which the man had found his mates.
All Duron said was, “We should go meet with them, then? The men in the kitchen?” Only he phrased it as a question. What they wanted to do lingered in the air between them, as well as through their new bond.
Regretfully, Beaumont nodded. “We have a lifetime,” he said, although he was not sure who he was reassuring, himself or Duron, “And I promise you, you are important.”
All Beaumont got was another nod. Resisting the urge to start anything, because with the way he was feeling even a simple kiss would have Beaumont tearing at Duron’s clothes, he patted his covered mating scar on Duron’s shoulder and led the way into the kitchen.
More talking,which was not what Beaumont wanted to do at all.
~/~/~/~
“Remind me why we’re here again?” Wyatt waved his beer bottle around, indicating the bar. It was later in the evening and Beaumont would give credit where credit was due. The house had been swept out and straightened up as much as possible, with beds remade with fresh linen, and the washing machine going through one load after another to get rid of the dust in clothes and bedding.
Food had been prepared, eaten, and appreciated by everyone. And as the men worked, they talked, coming up with a loose plan which was how Beaumont, Duron, and Wyatt ended up sitting in La Piedra Restobar, the place mentioned by the stinking captive now ensconced in a large animal cage in the Putney’s basement. “We stand out like dog’s balls,” Wyatt added.
The assassin spoke the truth—they did stand out. La Piedra Restobar was a family-style restaurant with wooden furniture, sturdy chairs, small tables for couples, and then larger ones for groups. The walls were painted red, with dark wood trim - possibly bamboo, although as Beaumont looked closer, he could tell the brown areas were actually some type of brick.
Regardless of the trimming, everything screamed of family fun and wholesome food. The entranceway and the outside seating area were festooned with fairy lights, for goodness’ sake. Not the sort of place most people would identify as a meeting place for criminals.
“Bad people hide behind the innocence of others,” Duron said, taking a swig of his beer. It had surprised Beaumont when his mate ordered it—for some reason he had it in his head that Duron and his fellow assassins didn’t do the simple things like go out to eat or enjoy a beer with friends. But when he took a closer look, Beaumont could see what Duron was doing was a mask—a learned behavior. He was no more comfortable than Beaumont was.
“The Putney brothers couldn’t come here. They’re too well-known in law enforcement, and we had to check it out,” Beaumont said quietly in English. “None of us came in here thinking we’d find a table marked ‘reserved for criminals.’” He huffed. Life would be so much easier if things like that did happen.
“That idiot now in the cage mentioned he’d been told to target where the men on the plane went.” Wyatt leaned over the table, keeping his voice low. “We are the men on the plane, but no one seems to give a shit that we’re here.”
“It’s possible we’ve missed the people looking for us.” Although even as he said it, Beaumont noticed a heated conversation at the corner of the bar area. Two men, one who served their beers, and a newcomer were arguing back and forth, definitely agitated, and definitely looking in their direction and trying to pretend they weren’t.
“Someone’s not keen that we’re here.” Duron put his glass down on the table. “We should leave.”
Beaumont dithered a moment—weighing things up. There was a family party dominating most of the restaurant space and two sets of couples finishing up their meals. There were three female servers, all young, hopping around the tables and cleaning up. The two men at the bar… Beaumont noticed the older man who’d been in the bar when they arrived had disappeared.
“Outside is a good option,” he said, standing up as the two arguing men had apparently settled their dispute and were making their way over. “No point in upsetting people having a nice evening out.”
Beaumont refused to rush. The two men coming for them weren’t a threat. He even made a point of holding open the door for a young woman who was coming into the restaurant. She smiled and giggled as she went past him, and Beaumont smiled in return. Manners didn’t cost anything.
Outside, Beaumont murmured, “Do we just wander away as if we are going back to the house, or what?”
