Gregory's Rebellion (2 page)

“ID?”

Hayden pulled the card from his wallet and handed it to the man. The clerk looked from the picture in his hand to Hayden’s face and the moments ticked on uncomfortably. Hayden squirmed under the scrutiny then lowered his gaze. He had to look away. He knew what the man was staring at—the same thing everyone stared at when they looked at him.

“Birthday today?” the clerk asked at last. He took Hayden’s money and rang up the sale.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re only buying two beers?”

“Guess I’m not a big drinker,” Hayden mumbled. He didn’t want to tell the man two beers were all he could afford.

“Well, enjoy.”

“Thanks.”

The clerk picked up the newspaper he’d discarded, dismissing Hayden, but, just before he turned to leave, Hayden saw the man’s eyes look over the top of the paper to stare at his face.

After he’d let himself into his tiny condo, Hayden threw his keys on the side table in the hall and stripped off his damp shirt. The place was like a furnace, but he couldn’t afford the bill for the air conditioning so he had to suffer the heat.

He took a cold shower, threw on an old pair of cut-offs and stretched out on his threadbare sofa. The springs creaked loudly as he sat down and Hayden hoped the old thing would last because, as with everything else, he didn’t have the money to replace it.

He was used to being broke, but sometimes—well, most of the time—he wished his life was different. Why couldn’t he have had parents who loved him, no matter what? Hayden didn’t often think about his life back home—he wouldn’t allow himself. The memories of that time were too painful. But sometimes the thoughts crept into his head like weeds and took root. Once planted, there was no getting rid of them. Hayden might just be feeling nostalgic because it was his birthday, but he had a burning desire to call home.

It had been five years since his parents had kicked him out of the house for being gay. When his father had caught him making out with his friend Tommy, he’d got the worst beating of his life…and that was saying something. He’d spent the five years since struggling, feeling as though he were climbing a steep hill with no end in sight. He’d done things to get by that made his face burn with shame. Had his parents thought about him at all in the years since he’d left? What about his younger brother, Joey? Joey would be sixteen now, the age Hayden had been when he’d left. Did Joey ever ask about him? Did he have more siblings he didn’t know about?

Hayden tried to shake the thoughts from his head. What would be the point in calling his parents? They’d made it perfectly clear they never wanted to see him again and that was just fine. He was doing great without them, wasn’t he?

Hayden reached for the Kindle he’d left on his coffee table, a small smile playing over his lips. He might not have family in his life anymore, but he had Mac. The man had been good to him since he’d shown up at the diner, penniless and hungry. Hayden didn’t want to think about where he would be now if Mac hadn’t taken him in and given him a job. Would he still be giving hand jobs at truck stops for a ride to the next town and so he could eat that day? He shivered at the unwelcome thought. He might not have much, but he’d come a long way since then.

No, he couldn’t call his parents. He was a man now—he didn’t need them anymore. Mostly everything he owned, however cheap or old, he’d bought out of his own damn money, and that gave him an immense sense of pride. He’d proved to himself that he could make it on his own, without their help or love.

Sure, he might feel lonely once in a while but he always got over it. Hayden cracked open a bottle of beer and took a long drink. He grimaced. He didn’t much like the taste of beer, but you didn’t have to like it to drink it, did you?

Getting up from the sofa, he walked into his compact bathroom, leaned over the washbasin and took a good look at himself in the cracked plastic mirror on the wall. He rarely looked at his own reflection. Not because he was bad looking—he wasn’t. He had pale blond hair, piercing light blue eyes and fleshy pink lips. His nose was narrow and turned up slightly at the end. It could almost be described as delicate. His features were very nearly feminine, but strong enough that he could never be confused for a girl. But it was the angry-looking scar that ran from the corner of his eye down his left cheek to his top lip that flawed his otherwise handsome face. It was an attribute most people couldn’t see beyond, himself included.

Looking down at the half-empty bottle in his hand, Hayden curled his upper lip in distaste. He didn’t feel like drinking anymore. Maybe the beer had been a bad idea. He knew alcohol was a depressant and that was something he most certainly didn’t need. Even without alcohol Hayden sometimes got into a funk that was difficult to get out of. Emptying the remaining beer away, he brushed his teeth and got himself ready for bed.

Turning out the lights in his condo, he lay down, praying for sleep to take him quickly so he wouldn’t have to be alone with his thoughts. And when he slept he would be free to dream of a better life than the one he was currently living.

* * * *

Gregory watched the young jaguar shifter cross the street from the liquor store and let himself into his condo. It was a run-down building in one of the seedier areas of the city, home to more street gangs and meth addicts than Gregory cared to think about. It was a dump.

The council had told him to bring Hayden in three days ago. Normally that wouldn’t have been a problem. This was an easy job and Gregory had even been allowed to come alone. Actually he had
insisted
upon it. He’d refused to be paired up with another partner after Ashton had been killed a few weeks ago. Usually, on jobs like this one, he’d have got in, grabbed the kid and got out without breaking a sweat. Yet here he stood, three days later, still watching the young shifter like he had all the time in the world.

Gregory had to admit to being intrigued.
More
than intrigued, he was damn near infatuated. He reached a hand down to adjust his errant cock, cursing his damn stupid body for betraying him. He’d been painfully hard for the last three days just watching Hayden from a distance. God only knew how his body would respond when he came within touching distance of the young man.

It was Hayden’s twenty-first birthday, but instead of celebrating, he had worked all day. And his night didn’t look as though it would be any more exciting. The kid did the same thing every night. He went back to his condo alone. The only change in his routine had been two bottles of beer the kid had picked up at the store. Hayden didn’t have any friends, of that Gregory was certain. He had spoken to no one but his co-workers and the store clerk in the past three days. Gregory suspected that was the reason the council wanted him brought in.

Unlike wolves, cat shifters did not live in packs. But they were still far from the solitary creatures people imagined them to be. They needed interaction with their own kind—thrived on it. When they didn’t get it, they quite often became depressed. And that in turn led to them becoming feral. Feral cats were dangerous. Too dangerous to be allowed to remain in society where they could harm humans…or worse, kill them. And that was without mentioning the touchy subject of humans finding out about shifters.

With a drawn-out sigh, Gregory turned away from Hayden’s condo. He knew he couldn’t drag the job out much longer, but he couldn’t grab the kid on his birthday. He’d give him the night at least. Let him drink his beers and celebrate his birthday, then in the morning Gregory would take him back to base. He didn’t want to take the kid in at all, but he had no choice. If he waited any longer his superiors in the council would be pissed off and they’d send someone else to finish the job’.

The fact that Gregory hated Vegas made the job even more difficult. On the main drag the cacophony of noise and the abundance of tacky neon was murder on the eyes and ears. The place was a paradox. It offered hope and the prospect of a better life, but it rarely delivered—filled to bursting with people that wanted to lose themselves, that had ended up living there because they had no place else to go. People arrived with optimism and often left in despair. It sucked the soul right out of you.

If Gregory could just make his goddamn dick calm down long enough to get near the young jaguar and grab him, then he’d be out of this shit hole in no time. He needed to get back to Texas. He had work to do and a score to settle.

When Dean, a high ranking member of the supernatural council, had killed his partner Ashton for no good fucking reason, Gregory had made a promise to himself that Dean wouldn’t get off scot-free. One way or another, Gregory would do what the council had failed to do. Dean didn’t deserve impunity. He would pay for what he’d done. It wasn’t that Gregory wanted revenge—he wanted justice and he wouldn’t rest until he’d got it.

Gregory suspected Ashton wasn’t the only person Dean had killed. He was sure Dean had been responsible for the death of Ashton’s mate Tania, along with several other council members’ mates who had been killed in recent months. He just needed to find the proof—he could do nothing without it. To do that he needed to be in Texas, but of course his job meant he had to be prepared to travel all over the country at a moment’s notice. It was unavoidable, but sometimes he was his own worst enemy. He should have been home already, not skulking around Vegas watching a young man that intrigued him so much he’d all but forgotten about his responsibilities. His superiors would be furious if they found out…

He had enjoyed his work for the supernatural council when he was younger, had always loved the thrill of the chase. Back then, he’d thought he had been doing something good, something worthwhile. But the older he’d got, the more disillusioned with the council he had become. They didn’t always play by the rules and they had too many corrupt members within their ranks, men that were only out for themselves. Everyone had an agenda it seemed. So much so, it had become impossible to know whom to trust.

Over the years, Gregory had witnessed first-hand how some of the council members treated shifters that didn’t belong to a community or a pack. Many were treated little better than animals. As he walked back to his rented unit to attempt to get some sleep, Gregory tried not to think about what would happen to Hayden after he handed him over to his superiors.

He couldn’t allow himself to think about that.

* * * *

When the early morning sun made its first appearance on the horizon, Gregory grabbed a quick shower and change of clothes and doubled back to the street outside Hayden’s condo. Hiding behind a battered old Ford, he waited for the young jaguar to appear then watched him lock up and cross the street, heading in the direction of the diner.

The kid hunched forward as he walked, keeping his eyes to the ground. He looked as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Moving out of his hiding place, Gregory began to follow Hayden down the street. He felt for the kid…he really did. He wished there was something he could do to help him, but his hands were tied. He
had
to take Hayden in, because if the council sent in other operatives, Gregory would be in a shit load of trouble he didn’t need.

Every few steps Hayden tugged at the waistband of his jeans to pull them back up his narrow hips. They were at least a size too big for him and dragged along the ground as he walked. The grey T-shirt he sported was threadbare and so washed out it had probably started its life as black.

Gregory wasn’t an expert on fashion, but Hayden’s clothes didn’t look as though they’d been picked out to meet a current trend—they looked as though they were the only things he could find to fit him in a thrift store. Gregory couldn’t help but wonder what sort of life the young shifter had led. What had happened with his family? And how in God’s name had he ended up in this dump?

The report the council had given him to read on Hayden before he’d left for Vegas had been brief—the kid’s age, address, the name of the diner he worked at. The report had said that Hayden’s parents had kicked him out at sixteen, but it had held no information about the first three years he’d been on his own—nothing until he’d arrived in Vegas and started working at the diner. There was a picture of Hayden that had been captured from a distance, but the kid was barely distinguishable. In the photograph Hayden had his head to the ground, his shoulder-length hair and bangs covering his face.

Quickening his pace, Gregory all but caught up with the young cat shifter, walking no more than ten feet behind him. The closer he got, the harder his dick became. He cursed under his breath and kept on walking. What the hell did he find so appealing about the young jaguar? He was pretty, for sure—his body slim and lithe, just Gregory’s type—but Gregory had never experienced this level of attraction before. And he’d never had this much trouble controlling his damn libido.

“Hayden!”

The jaguar stopped walking and turned to face him, pinning him in place with a narrow-eyed glare. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

When Gregory caught his first glimpse of Hayden up close, his breath caught in his chest and the words he had planned to use on Hayden, to get him to come quietly, stuck in his throat. Hayden’s icy blue gaze burned into his mind and imprinted on his soul. And his scent…

This couldn’t be happening.
“I, uh…”

“What do you want from me?” Hayden asked, eyeing him warily.

Gregory took a step closer to the jaguar and pulled in a deep breath to confirm his suspicions. He couldn’t smell Hayden’s cat at all, which was odd, but his body reacted to the shifter just as he’d thought it would. His hands broke out in a sweat and what felt like tiny currents of electricity zapped him everywhere at once. His heart raced and his eyes and teeth threatened to shift to their cat form. He had to work hard to contain his cat, to force it inside himself. Gregory had never felt anything like it before and knew he wouldn’t again. The feelings, the sensations rolling around in his body, were unmistakable. He didn’t need to have experienced them before to know exactly what they were
or
what they meant.