Zeus's Pack 9: Rave
Zeus’s Pack 9
Rave
Logan leads a pretty simple life. That is, until he delivers a load of lumber to Hunter's Hardware and nearly gets blown up. Logan doesn't understand who would try to kill him until he's attacked outside the hospital, and then his home. The man after him is relentless.
Agent Monroe is sent to Pride Pack Valley to investigate. Under the guise of wanting to get reacquainted with Rave, he digs into multiple murders committed by a man who can control minds and make his victims kill themselves.
Rave is sent to retrieve someone Dr. Maximus Samuel feels is in danger. Little does Rave know that he will be rescuing his mate, who doesn't want to be rescued, even after being nearly blown to bits when his truck explodes.
As the body count begins to rise in Pride Pack Valley, Agent Monroe must find the man behind the murders. But his investigation leads him to Logan, his mate. Can Rave save Logan from Agent Monroe, and can the two of them stop Logan from going nuclear as he discovers abilities he never even knew he had?
Genre:
Alternative (M/M or F/F), Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Vampires/Werewolves
Length:
44,630 words
RAVE
Zeus’s Pack 9
Lynn Hagen
MENAGE EVERLASTING
MANLOVE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting ManLove
RAVE
Copyright © 2012 by Lynn Hagen
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61926-745-9
First E-book Publication: June 2012
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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Rave
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RAVE
Zeus’s Pack 9
LYNN HAGEN
Copyright © 2012
Logan waited as Hunter signed the forms. He glanced around the hardware store, noticing that a few things had been added on since the last time he’d been at the store. There were new rows next to the nail section that held power tools and all the accessories a man could desire. The owner was expanding his business, and it looked nice.
“You can unload the lumber out back,” the hardware store owner said as he handed Logan back his pen. “And anything else that isn’t lumber can be stacked by the back door.”
Logan nodded as he shoved the pen in the front pocket of his ugly brown work shirt and then tore off a copy of the delivery ticket, handing it to Hunter. “Not a problem.”
Tucking the clipboard under his arm, Logan headed out front to his delivery truck. He climbed inside and then pulled the truck around to the back of the hardware store, backing into a spot near the door and turning off the motor.
This should be a quick in-and-out job.
He hoped.
As Logan slid from the truck and headed around back to the door Hunter had specified, he heard the wind blow and leaves rustle across the concrete. A chill entered him as he shook his head. What was he expecting in the back of the hardware store, zombies? He needed to lay off the late-night movies. He was starting to spook himself.
He loosened the tie-downs, releasing the pressure on the thick, cloth material. No one had a forklift around here, so unloading the order would be by hand. Thank goodness Hunter hadn’t ordered much. Logan didn’t figure to be unloading wood for the rest of the day. He had better things to do, although, at the moment he couldn’t think of a single one.
If the order had been large, there would have been a forklift attached to the truck as well. It took Logan a little while to stack the last of the wood in the designated area by size and length. Once he was done, he walked around to get the few boxes sitting on the floor in the cab of his truck.
A soft breeze blew across the back of his neck, warm and subtle.
It felt like someone was standing directly behind him, blowing on his neck in soft tufts. Logan rubbed the tingling skin and opened the truck door. He grabbed the first box, carrying it inside and setting it next to the already-existing inventory that still needed to be put away.
The back room was cluttered, but not so much that Hunter wouldn’t be able to find what he was looking for. It was sort of an organized clutter. Nails were with nails, clamps with clamps, so on and so forth. He made sure he stacked Hunter’s order accordingly.
I wouldn’t want to mess the guy’s strange system up.
Some people functioned better disorganized than neat and tidy.
Hunter was apparently one of those people that liked disorganization.
Logan walked outside into the warm spring air and felt goose bumps march down his arms. A low whistling noise drew his attention to his left, so Logan looked. But nothing was there.
He ran his hands over his head and went to the truck to get the rest of the boxes. Maybe that zombie marathon last night wasn’t such a good idea after all. He was imagining things, very bizarre things, noises and touches that weren’t there.
His buddy Cal was going to rib him good for his runaway imagination. They had only known each other for six months, but he teased Logan about his imagination. Logan grabbed the last two boxes and took them inside the hardware store, stacking them according to Hunter’s screwed-up system.
Wiping the dust from his hands onto the front his pants, Logan stepped back outside and stilled. The passenger’s door was closed.
He hadn’t closed it.
Or maybe he had and didn’t notice he had done it. Some things were done out of habit to the point people didn’t remember doing them. This could have been the case. Logan chuckled softly to himself, wondering if he was going to be this freaked out all day. He usually didn’t imagine things after watching one of his favorite horror movies, though.
But last night was the first time he had watched a marathon of them. That could have been what was freaking him out. At least, that was how Logan justified the huge case of the willies he seemed to have.
Sliding into the driver’s side, Logan turned the key to start the truck. He heard a whirl and then a click in the silence of the cab.
Something deep down inside of Logan made him scramble from the truck and then run as fast as his damn legs would carry him. He didn’t hear a boom or any kind of explosion as he rounded the brick building.
Damn, was he really letting his imagination get the better of him?
That’s it. No more late-night movies for me.
Just as Logan headed back toward the truck, feeling like a complete idiot, an explosion ripped through air, expanding outward toward the back of the hardware store. Wood, glass, metal, and fire rained down all around him as he huddled in a ball on the ground. He felt objects slap his arm and leg as he lay there curled up tightly, covering his head. His right side was the only thing exposed, and that was the side that took the brunt of the falling debris.
People began to run around back, and a small crowd began to form. Logan looked up from his arm, seeing the twisted metal of the truck he had been sitting in only moments before and the back of the burning hardware store.
“Hunter!” Logan tried to stand but swooned instead. He landed on his ass as something warm trickled down the side of his face. His nostrils burned from the acrid smoke billowing from the melted truck and the burning wood. He coughed a few times, turning his head as he spit on the ground. His mouth was even sore.
“You’re bleeding,” a man said as he knelt close to Logan. “Your temple, or maybe your scalp.”
Logan could only lip-read at this point. The explosion had done something to his hearing. He reached up and winced when he felt a low throb in his temple where his fingers had touched. Pulling his hand away, Logan found blood smeared on his fingertips. It didn’t seem real. None of this did.
Who would want to blow him up?
He had no enemies, none that he could think of. Winning at poker on Friday night did not constitute someone trying to kill him, especially since they wagered with quarters. No one should want him dead just because they had lost their laundry money.
So who the hell could it be?
The ringing in Logan’s ears was giving him a splitting headache.
It sounded like the Emergency Broadcast System was in surround sound as he closed his eyes and covered his ears. Logan rolled to his side and vomited violently on the ground, feeling the bitter taste of bile as it left his mouth. He felt off-balance and out of focus. He knew with his hearing affected, so would his balance be. The two sort of went hand in hand.
Someone touched his shoulder, and Logan swung onto his back, his arms covering his face. The person tugged until his arms finally lowered. It was a paramedic. The paramedic wore a navy-blue shirt and matching fatigue pants, the hospital logo stitched across the front of his left chest, right above his heart. The guy had an orange medical bag slung over his shoulder, which he sat down next to him once Logan was lying still.
Logan glanced at the truck once more, tears gathering in his eyes.
A fire truck came into view, and Logan prayed Hunter hadn’t been hurt. Hopefully the man had made it out of the front of the store.
He really didn’t know Hunter that well, but the man seemed like a decent guy. Logan didn’t want him hurt. An ambulance board was brought over and laid down next to him. The blue-and-chrome board was curled around on all sides, to stop its patients from rolling off.
There was reflective tape running along the inside.
“Hunter,” he said as the paramedic tried to lift him up, but it was only to put a neck brace on him. “Is Hunter okay?”
