Hagen, Lynn - Tater's Bear [Brac Pack 22] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove)

Brac Pack 22

LYNN HAGEN

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Tater threw his arms over his head as he watched Olsen Lakeland walk off of his front porch. Tater kicked the front door with his booted foot, punching it at the same time with his fist.

What in the hell was going on in his life lately? His uncle was a goddamn drug dealer? What kind of crazy world did he walk into? He couldn’t believe that Maverick had found drugs in the barn that Tater had used for many years as a reprieve when he needed to get away from it all. And his motorcycle that gave him a peace of mind to work on? Gone. Burned to a crispy-fried piece of useless metal inside the barn.

“Is that you, Tater?” his mom called from upstairs. Tater rocked his forehead back and forth on the wall, laying his hands on either side of his head, using the wall to hold his weary body up. Tater sighed, looking down at his boots as he wished he was any place but here right now. Too much was happening at once, and he felt like his life was out of control.

Olsen Lakeland just walked away, out of his life, and Tater was torn between letting him go and chasing him down, insisting that the man stay. “Fuck!” He slammed the palm of his hand against the wall.

“Tater, go to bed,” his mother called from upstairs.

Tater pushed away from the wall and looked over at the steps leading upstairs. It was amazing that the fire department was outside killing the fire that engulfed the barn in flames, and his mother was in her bedroom acting as though nothing was wrong with the world.

Tater turned and wrenched the front door open, walking onto the porch just as the last of the flames were banked. His dad was out there talking with the fire marshal, trying his best to blow smoke up the guy’s ass to cover up what really happened to the structure.

His Uncle Clark had been using his barn to make some drug called Liquid Wrath. Tater had gone inside the red building, angry that his uncle would do something like that, and tried to rid the barn of the chemicals. Unfortunately, he hadn’t known the shit was unstable. Hence, his burnt-down barn. He watched his dad talk, his arms flailing around animatedly as he pointed at the barn and then back at the house.

They’d find out. The fireman would see the chemical lab his uncle had set up in there and know Tater’s dad was full of shit. Right about now, Tater didn’t give a fuck. He’d lost so much tonight already.

He gave his barn one last look, or what was left of it, and then started to walk up the dirt driveway, away from home and away from what had taken place here. His back still hurt from Maverick tackling him. The guy was too damn big to be treating Tater like pigskin. How was he supposed to know the chemicals in the barn had been explosive? They never should have been kept in there in the first place, and none of this would have happened.

Tater had no clue where in the fuck he was going as he reached the main road, but it was better than being at home right now. He watched a truck amble closer, the headlights blinding him as Tater walked down the side of the road.

He groaned when the truck’s brakes squeaked loudly, signaling that the driver had stopped. “Hey, you looking for a ride?”

Tater slowed his walking as he looked over at the rusty blue piece of shit idling across the road from him. He didn’t recognize the man, but damn if the fucker didn’t scream
pervert
. “No thanks.”

The pervert leaned out of his window, slapping the driver’s door with the palm of his hand. “I could make it worth your while.”

Tater could feel a tick start in his jaw. His night was already shot down the toilet. He didn’t need a pervert following him down the damn road. “I said no, now fuck off.” Tater ran a hand over his short-cropped hair, eyed the jerk for a second, and then continued his walk to nowhere.

The truck began to move backward slowly, the tires on a lazy rotation as the pervert followed him down the deserted back roads of Brac Village. “I can help you ease your worries,” the man said in an annoying, syrupy tone. “Stop playing hard to get and come take a ride.”

That’s it!
Tater stormed across the road, the brakes squeaking as the pervert stopped the truck, triumph gleaming in his lust-filled eyes. Tater got right in the man’s face, pointing his finger as he growled. “Do I look like a helpless victim to you? I’m six foot two and two hundred forty-five pounds of muscle. If you don’t get the
fuck
out of here, I’m going to show you just how bad of a night I’ve really had.”

Tater slapped the doorframe with his hand and then crossed back over to his side of the road, walking away from the truck and everything else. Tater couldn’t understand where all his pent-up anger was coming from. Normally he was pretty easygoing.

On second thought, yes, he did.

His reprieve was burnt to the ground, taking his treasured motorcycle with it. His fucking uncle was a drug dealer that probably wasn’t going to live through the night now that Maverick had him. His father was a homophobic asshole that didn’t have an ounce of concern for anyone other than himself, and the man he wanted but was too afraid to commit to just walked out of his life. Oh yeah, he knew exactly why he was ready to chew nails and spit them at the pervert.

He sighed as he continued walking. There was no use getting all riled up when there wasn’t a thing he could do about any of it. That’s what had Tater so ticked off. It was the fact that he
couldn’t
do anything about any of this that didn’t set well with him.

Okay, maybe he could do something about Olsen, but that was another story altogether.

Tater stopped walking and looked around him, seeing nothing but a large pasture and woods. He loved country living. Too bad he had to experience it under his father’s thumb. It was true that he was old enough to get out on his own. But where would he go and with what money?

Maybe it was high time he found a job. It was a thought he needed to seriously consider. But Tater knew that making decisions when high on emotions was always a bad idea. That’s why he tried his best to steer clear of Olsen Lakeland. Every time he got around that man he was high on emotions.

Olsen made him feel things Tater didn’t want to examine too closely. Commitment was something he’d never really liked. He felt tied down anytime someone tried to commit him to something, anything.

It was almost like a suffocating feeling he’d get whenever his dad had him commit to something or another.

Tater ran his hands over his head as he sat down on the soft shoulder of the road. He couldn’t even commit to deciding on where he was wandering off to. That’s why his bike had never been fully assembled except once. Tater couldn’t commit to getting the job done.

“It’s awfully late for a human to be out wandering around.”

Tater growled softly. If that pervert was back, he was going to teach him a lesson about stalking folks. Wait, did the guy say
human
? Tater turned his head slowly, glancing over his shoulder at someone he’d never seen before smirking at him.

Just great. Another weirdo. What was it about tonight that was bringing all the freaks out? “Fuck off.” Tater knew it wasn’t polite, but polite had flipped him off and walked away when everything fell down around him. Polite could kiss his ass.

“That wasn’t very polite.” The man spoke Tater’s thoughts as he stepped closer.

Tater snorted as he shrugged. “I was just thinking the same thing. But after the evening I’ve had, I honestly don’t give a shit.”

“You should.”

Tater’s jaw clenched when he saw vampire fangs in the guys mouth. It was bad enough the Lakelands and Maverick had tried to convince him that paranormal creatures existed. He had fallen for the whole ball of wax.

But the longer he thought about it, the more he realized that they were full of shit. It couldn’t be true and Tater wasn’t going to swallow any of it. He’d had enough of people trying to pull the wool over his eyes. He wasn’t sure what their angle was, but he discounted it all.

Now this fool was out to trick him as well.

Some people took that shit way too seriously. He’d heard of some folks getting their dentists to cosmetically change their teeth to resemble fangs, but Tater had never met anyone up close who had. “Not impressed.”

“A real cynic, I see.” The man chuckled. “I can change your mind very easily.”

“I’d rather you not. My list of fucked-up things to happen to me has somehow tripled in the past few hours. Why don’t you go show those cows over there? They’d be more impressed than I am right now.” Tater waved to the pasture. There were a few cows grazing, looking as though they didn’t have a care in the world.

The man hissed, showing Tater his fangs in full view now. What was with this guy? Was he that desperate to show off his dental work? Tater stood, wiping his ass off as he began to walk again. Maybe if he walked far enough, he’d have a collection of weirdos to take his anger out on.

Surprise
was probably the best word he could use to describe the situation when the slim stranger grabbed his upper arm and spun him around. For a skinny guy, he sure as hell was strong. Tater was impressed.

“Knock it off, fuckhead.” Tater reared back and punched the stranger in his jaw. If the man put his hands on Tater first, he had every right to defend himself.

“What the hell did you do that for?” The guy grabbed his jaw, pushing it back and forth and then stretching it wide.

“What’d ya put your hands on me for?” Tater countered as he glared at the fanged fucker.

“Because you were walking away. What the hell do you think?” The stranger waved his hands around animatedly. “Walking away is just rude when someone is talking to you.”

Maybe Tater should have gone to bed like his mom had suggested. His night was turning out to be one strange ass occurrence after another. Tater ticked off the night’s adventures in his head, his burnt barn, his dope-dealing uncle, Olsen leaving, the pervert in the truck, and now this guy. What the hell else could happen to him tonight?

“That’s what I normally do when someone shows me his or her deranged dental work,” Tater said as he turned on his heel and started walking…again.

“I–I was just hungry. I wasn’t going to hurt you,” the guy stuttered.

Tater stopped in his tracks and laughed. He laughed hard at the man’s words. He wasn’t too sure
why
he was laughing, but he couldn’t manage to stop himself. Maybe everything was finally catching up to him and he was losing his mind. Whatever the reason, Tater laughed so hard that he bent at the waist and placed his hands on his knees, tears rolling down his face.

The fanged stranger began to laugh as well, but Tater could tell the guy had no clue why they were laughing. Fuck, man, neither did Tater.

“Why are we laughing?” the man finally asked.

“Haven’t a clue,” Tater confessed. “Must be in the air.”

“Oh.” The slim man looked around as if he could see the reason for their amusement as a living and breathing entity. Tater shook his head as he straightened. Some of his stress had ebbed with the laughter, but not nearly enough to make the tension in his body recede.

“Where are you headed?”

“Nowhere.” The man shrugged. “I’m kinda wandering around. You?”

“Same here.” Tater extended his hand. “Name’s Tater.”

“Dudley.” The stranger shook his hand.

“Dudley?” Tater held back his chuckle as he appraised the man. “You don’t look like a Dudley. Why don’t we call you D?”

“Okay.” D shrugged. Tater looked at him more closely this time. D was short and skinny as hell. The man could use some extra pounds and a gym. Maybe a shitload of carbs as well.