STORY EXCERPT

“Stay tight,” Gideon whispered. He staggered slightly, nudging Darren’s arm. “This place is riddled with ambush opportunities.”

Darren, a former army sniper and badger shifter, rolled his eyes, equally unsteady on his feet. “Mate, I have done this before you know.”

Gideon sniggered. “I know. You’re a legend, dude.”

“This is about to boil over, isn’t it?”

Gideon turned his head, his amber eyes stark. “It was already simmering, dude. It’s gained enough momentum to take us all down with it.”

Darren was silent, weaving with Gideon down the narrow, cobbled street that had a Dickensian feel to it but for the street signs and glaring neon lights advertising a brothel, a pub, and a takeaway up ahead.

“Our informant said this is the place,” Gideon hissed, gesturing at the window of the brothel. “Looks like they’re having a blast.”

Darren winced. “Don’t use that term when we’re about to stop a possible bombing,” he said. “Do we know who owns this place?”

“A guy who shouldn’t be doing pole dancing like that at his age,” Gideon shot back, jerking Darren’s attention back to the brothel’s windows. A guy who had to be at least eighty was doing disturbing things to a pole in the center of a heaving gathering of scantily clad revelers in the middle of an orgy; two females of a similar age were jerking him off as he writhed awkwardly, his face contorted like a gargoyle in carnal ecstasy or excruciating agony. It was hard to tell.

“Yeah. That’s gross.”

They shared a grin, acting like two drunks after an all-day binge finding their second wind.

“Par-taay!” Gideon shouted, shimmying his hips, salsa-style, dragging Darren toward the brothel. Two hefty bouncers stood guard, arms folded across impressive pecs, their expressions somber as a brace of funeral directors.

“Not your party, buddy,” one guard said. He wore a sharp, black suit over a pristine white button-down shirt, red silk tie, and shiny black loafers. His hair was a dark, silken pelt, gleaming with good health and a dash of silver around the temples. “Private club.”

“I wanna par-taaay!” Gideon protested, wheeling in a full circle, a bottle of Becks in his hand from a secret stash in his inner coat pocket, which he attempted to swig, but kept missing his mouth. Darren struggled to contain his hilarity.

“You heard, moron. Find your own par-tay,” the other guard warned. His dress code was equally formal, clad in a charcoal grey suit, light salmon pink shirt and charcoal grey tie, and black cowboy boots.

“But it looks like fun!” Gideon’s whine grated, but his pout was adorable. “These guys are meanies, Brucie Baby,” he said stage whisper style, with a sideways look at Darren. “Meanie, meanie, meanie,” he sang, childlike, wagging his finger as he did another impromptu three-sixty turn. His foot stuck to a fast-food wrapper, and he spent a few seconds trying to kick it off, failed miserably, and stood staring at it, owl-like, before grinning up at the bouncers.

“Ooh look! Nekked wimmin.” Gideon lunged for the window, pressing his face to the glass, his nose squished, his eyes saucer shaped.

One of the guards, who wore cowboy boots, left the porch and grabbed Gideon in a headlock, dragging him away, and plonked him on the kerb across the street.

“You can watch them from here,” the guard said, smiling slightly. “You can’t wipe snot on the glass, buddy. It’s private property.”

“Beer?” Gideon asked helpfully, offering his bottle.

The guard shook his head. “No. I’m on duty.”

“No nekked wimmin?”

“Not for you, stud.”

Darren swayed in place, biting back a laugh at Gideon’s antics, lurching at the Armani-suited guard on the porch. “You are a meanie,” he slurred “We just wanna have some fun. We got money.”

“What don’t you get?” the irritated guard asked, stepping forward to shove Darren backward as Darren lurched to the side, swaying like a palm tree in a brisk breeze. “Private means you can’t come in. Members only.”

Darren used the momentum to his advantage and wound up with the guard at the bottom of the steps, the door at his back as he danced around in a shuffling stumble, confusing the guard, who let go, frowning up at Darren.

“Fun!” Darren insisted, giggling gleefully, and ran inside as the guard came thundering after him.

Gideon used the opportunity to plough his fist into the distracted bouncer’s face, sending him flying. The bouncer leapt up, a delighted grin on his face, wiped the blood from his smashed nose, and lunged at Gideon. Equally delighted, Gideon danced into the fray.

“How long do we do this?” the bouncer asked, panting, catching Gideon with a vicious uppercut.

“Got something better to do?” Gideon taunted.

“Yes, actually. Now fall down like a good pussycat and let me do my fucking job. They’ll fire me if I can’t handle one sloppy drunk.”

Gideon giggled inanely, took another hit for effect, and tumbled, boneless, to the ground. He cracked an eye open as the bouncer stalked off back to the club. The bouncer, aka his good friend Hunter, had been his sidekick in his biker days before he’d met Kaden and crew. Groaning loudly, Gideon attempted to rise, then flopped back down, as any beer guzzling hobo would do, to study the stars for a bit.

ADULT EXCERPT

Darren scowled. “Who leaked to the media?”

Gideon grinned. “We did.”

Darren’s mouth opened…and stayed that way, his response stuck tumbling around in his confused brain.

“We want to draw the players to the surface,” Gideon murmured. “We also leaked that the East Side Boys had been shut down, and the hit man responsible for murders across the city was at large. We put a BOLO out.”

“He’ll go to ground.”

“No. He’s arrogant and has a loose end to tie up. Switch will come here.”

Darren finally noticed his surroundings. Gideon’s wake-up call had splintered his senses to the point he’d had no clue they weren’t at home.

“We’re in Scotland?”

“Yep!”

“You really think Switch will come here?”

“Know so.”

“Why would he risk exposing himself?”

Gideon lifted a small tablet from a coffee table just behind him and showed Darren the live feed being played.

“He won’t be able to resist.”

Darren turned his head, kissing Gideon’s kick-ass grin, and lowered gingerly to sprawl over his incorrigible mate. The kiss deepened, Gideon’s low growl of approval rumbling.

“Make love to me,” Darren mumbled into Gideon’s mouth, stroking his tongue along Gideon’s plump lips. “Claim me. Fuck me. Take me to the moon and back.”

Gideon cupped Darren’s ass, kneading the taut globes. His finger slid along Darren’s crack, probing lightly at the tiny hole hidden there. Darren groaned, feeling the pinch as the digit pushed against his protesting sphincter, and pushed back as Gideon breached him.

“Lube?”

“No idea.”

Gideon chuckled, rummaging around under the sofa cushions, and produced an industrial-sized tube of the stuff.

“Feeling lucky?”

Gideon’s chuckle was rueful. “Hopeful, ace. I was hoping we’d consummate sooner rather than later.”

“So you brought me away to recuperate, kidnapping me in the middle of the night, knowing there’s a dangerous hitman on the loose, and brought Prime Minister Roach along for the ride?”

Gideon laughed loudly, fumbling to open the lube.

“No. I brought you here because I wanted to get away from London. Then we found out from a source that Switch had changed his flight plans.” His grin disappeared. “The informant was found with his throat slit and his eyeballs and tongue removed, in a private jet at a private airfield on Skye.” His gaze was stark. “There’s evidence that Switch came here, then headed to London after searching Raasay for us. He left several other bodies behind, too. Roach isn’t here. Why would you think that? She’s still secured.”

“Wilf’s gang?”

Gideon sighed irritably. “You’re killin’ my mood here, ace.”

Darren chuckled, despite the subject matter. “Sorry. I always like to know the possibilities of my ass getting strafed while I’m making love.”

Gideon sucked on Darren’s lower lip, rolling them both gently so Darren was beneath, Gideon on his haunches between Darren’s legs.

“Baby, your ass is about to get strafed. Enjoy the ride.”

Darren groaned loudly as Gideon went on the offensive, finally opening the lube, then smearing his fingers and Darren’s crack liberally. His mind-splintering fingers, two this time, entered Darren, scissoring and stretching him with a thoroughness that had sweat beading, his cock bobbing to attention, and his body trembling with excitement.

“Do your worst,” he managed to gasp out, moaning against Gideon’s mouth as his mate leaned forward, replacing fingers with fat cock, and slid home in one smooth thrust.

Darren’s eyes crossed at the sudden entrance, and he forgot to breathe for several seconds, adjusting to the burn, his ass quivering in protest.

“Warn a guy?”

Gideon nibbled delicately at Darren’s lips. “I thought you’d enjoy the surprise.”

Darren bit down, pleased with Gideon’s yelp.

Gideon eased back, grimacing. “Sorry. I got excited.”

Darren pushed up, seating Gideon deeper, and grinned back. “Just kidding. I loved your surprise. Best out of three?”

Gideon chuckled. “Ready?”

“Always.”

They moved together, sinuous as eels, Gideon’s strokes long and slow, filling Darren over and over while he explored every inch of Darren’s mouth. Gideon’s kisses were drugging, their lovemaking everything Darren could have hoped for, and he lost himself in his mate, his butt clenching fluidly around Gideon’s juicy cock.