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Taking the Line
Chapter 01
Why was Denver so fucking cold in October? Arnold Orr had checked the weather, and they’d called for something in the sixties; this was no more than forty. He’d gone back inside the airport to buy an insulated jacket to put over his own light one. The wind tried to rip it off him as soon as he stepped outside to catch a car.
And the wind was cold. What was it with this city?
Of course there were no ride-shares waiting. Arnold considered renting a car, but this wasn’t San Francisco Bay; paying upfront in cash wouldn’t keep them from requiring his name, and Aiden’s sifters would come across it, and defeat the point of not using the jet to come here. He didn’t want to have to explain what he was doing in Denver.
While he waited, cursing the Denver weather, a man and his young daughter stepped to a car, each pulling a suitcase. The woman behind the wheel stepped out and the chipmunk family hugged, speaking happily. The woman sat in the passenger seat as the husband and daughter went to the opening trunk.
The father spoke happily with his daughter and Arnold swallowed. Look away, he told himself. You don’t get to have that. You don’t get to have your old men show affection toward you. Stop making yourself miserable. Then the girl’s suitcase caught on a crack in the concrete, tipped over, and spilled its contents.
The sense of the scene change.
She shrank in on herself, shaking. All happiness vanished from her father’s face, and he tensed. The mother’s gaze shifted to the side mirror, so she saw, but all she expressed was resignation.
Arnold moved before the father did, crossing the distance as the hand came up. He was far too familiar with this scene, and for once he could do something about it. He caught the hand as it started down, the back of it aimed for the girl’s face.
“What the fuck?” the man exclaimed as Arnold shove him against the car hard enough to make it rock.
“You don’t hit your kid,” Arnold growled.
“Get off me.” The chipmunk pushed against Arnold, but the mass difference was too great. Even if Arnold wasn’t enhanced, the man wouldn’t move until Arnold was ready.
“Did you hear me?” Arnold lowered his muzzle next to the man’s ear and whispered, “Count yourself fucking lucky she’s standing right there, otherwise I’d give you a taste of what being knock around feels like.”
The man froze.
“Good,” Arnold whispered. “That’s what fear tastes like. That’s what you’re doing to your daughter when you hit her.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Sure you weren’t. If I ever find out you hit her again, I will find you. Get me?”
The man nodded and Arnold let him go, smiling. There were now three cars in the ride-share parking. He sat in the back of the closest one, giving the driver three hundred-dollar bills with his destination address. She looked at the bills like she had no idea what they were, then shrugged and drove away.
* * * * *
She let him out next to the van parked on the side of the street, in front of his destination. Men were coming in and out of a door. He slipped another hundred-dollar bill to her and exited before she commented. He smelled baking—the bakery kind, not what came from a happy family home.
The men were jovial, of various species and body types, from skinny to rivaling Arnold’s own muscular body. In the lull of people he headed for the door, and a thin fox barely wearing anything exited, holding a bag. He looked Arnold up and down and whistled.
“Well hello there, stripes.” He licked his lips. “Please tell me you’re one of Denton’s friends, and that I can help you move your package.”
How could this guy stand the cold in his shorts and open shirt? “What’s going on here?”
“Oh, Dent’s moving again.” The fox dropped the bag on the sidewalk and approached Arnold, then ran a hand up the jacket’s zipper. “But you don’t have to worry about him. Dent has half the city’s men helping him. I can definitely take the time to help you take a load off your feet.” He smiled lecherously. “Better yet, I can simply take a load from you.” He winked, moving closer.
At least the cheetah surrounded himself with willing men, even if his choice in body type left something to be desired. “Put on some muscles and you can ask me again.” He walked around the fox, ignoring the snort, and stepped through the door, noting the “Denton Brislow, Private Investigator” painted in small letters. Steps took him down to a long room with a desk at the end and empty bookcase behind it.
A muscular rottweiler carrying two stacked boxed entered the room from the door at the back.
“Where’s Denton?” Arnold asked.
The canine indicated the door he’d entered from as a gorilla and bull maneuvered a bookcase through it. Arnold let them pass, grinning at the hungry look they gave him. Those two he’d do if he wasn’t in a hurry.
Beyond the door was a small landing with a door leading outside, to an alley where two guys were making out—no, two of them were kissing while a third was on his knees, both their cocks in his mouth. That was one way to stay warm outside. A voice he thought he recognized came from up the stairs.
“Damn it, Gregg, careful with those. My mom gave them to me.”
Arnold looked at the muscular duo; maybe he should invite them to San Francisco Bay and show them a good time.
He stepped aside to let a beagle, whose ears were folded back, pass. The box in his hand clinked like it contained glassware. Up the stairs he entered a minuscule entryway with a kitchen on the left and living room on the right.
The cheetah stood in the kitchen, looking it over. There was a table, stove, and fridge left in it. On the table were three open boxes each with “Sweet Mask” written within a mask on the side, and two empty 1st and Best pizza boxes.
The cheetah noticed him. “Good. You can help with the fridge. Will!” he called. “Will! Come on, you guys came to help, not fuck.”
“We’re not fucking!” came the reply, followed by a moan.
The cheetah rolled his eyes. “You’re going to have to wait for someone else. The fridge is a two-man job.”
Arnold snorted. “I’m not the help.”
“You missed the orgy by two days.”
Arnold rolled his eyes. “I saw your selection. Not enough of them are to my taste. You really going to let them fuck when they should be working?”
“Can’t be helped,” the cheetah replied. “It’s why I sent the invite to everyone. There’s enough of them catching their breath to keep things moving.” He looked Arnold over, the look more critical than desire. “Who did you come with? I don’t remember you.”
“Really? Just like that, you forget me?” Anger slipped in his voice. Arnold stepped forward, considered unleashing his influence on him as a reminder, but a hand groped his ass.
The fox stepped lightly out of Arnold’s reach before he could react, laughing. “Forget him, I’m packing enough to satisfy any of your needs.”
“I hate sending you there, Brad,” the cheetah said, “but the bedroom has more boxes.”
The fox licked his lips at Arnold. “Come help me?”
“No.”
“Your loss.” The fox vanished through a door and squealed.
“There goes another one. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.”
“Don’t you people know how to control your men?”
“Us people?” The cheetah’s momentary smile fell, replaced by a groan. “Fuck, what are you doing here?”
Arnold smiled in triumph. “So you do remember me.”
The cheetah sighed. “Tiger with a sense of entitlement, definitely an Orr. There’s only two with that build, and only one who’d think I’d remember him after what he pulled. So you’re Arnold. I’m going to ask again. What are you doing here?”
“Do you always get guys off the street to move your stuff for you?” Arnold moved out of the way of the bull and gorilla. The cheetah indicated the fridge.
“Problem?” the bull asked, nodding to the tiger.
“I can deal with him. These are my friends, and they offered to help. Don’t make me ask again, Arnold. You are not one of the people I need to be patient with.”
“Of course they volunteered; is it money, or your cock?”
“Get out.”
“Nothing wrong with either.”
“Arnold, if you don’t stop insulting my friends, I am going to throw you out.”
Arnold stiffened and almost dared him to do it, but remembered how the cheetah had managed to turn his ability against him. He didn’t want to go through that again, especially not without one of his brothers here to assuage the need. He reined in his temper.
“We need to talk.”
“Oh good,” the cheetah said sarcastically. “It already happened, so you can go.”
Arnold bit back his reply as the bull and gorilla entered the hallway with the fridge. Before he could speak, a gray wolf left a room, zipping himself up.
“Bathroom, Will,” the cheetah said to the wolf. “Those boxes you said you’d take are still there. Richard! Stop distracting the guys helping me! Or at least move a box and pretend like you’re here to help and not suck off everyone here.”
The reply was unintelligible from that Richard person having something in his mouth. Arnold considered going in there and teaching him how to behave.
The cheetah rubbed his muzzle. “I swear, he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
“We need to talk,” Arnold stated.
“No, we don’t. Leave.”
“I didn’t come to this fucking cold city for you to treat me like one of them,” Arnold growled. “I deserve respect.”
The cheetah let out a mirthless bark of laughter. “Oh, that’s rich. You, demanding respect after what you pulled on us.”
“That was owed payment.”
“Rape is never a form of payment.”
The wolf stepped out of the bathroom, a box in his arms, and the cheetah glared at him. The wolf vanished back in. “Let me guess, you think that because you didn’t get to go through with it, it doesn’t count. That the trauma you caused Martin just evaporated, right?”
“Who the fuck is Martin?”
The cheetah ground his teeth, then shook his head. “No. I’m not doing this. I’m not getting in a fight with you over something you don’t even understand. The day you’re here with an apology, you can give this a try.”
“An apology?” Arnold snapped. “I didn’t—” He shut his muzzle. He hated needing anyone, but that was the situation he was in right now. “I’m sorry,” he said through gritted teeth.
The cheetah stared at him, seeming to have trouble forming words. “Do you—” The mouth moved, but nothing came out. “Why are you here?” he finally asked, as if he couldn’t believe he was uttering the words.
Arnold looked around. Anyone could listen in, but at least there was no one watching him debase himself like this. He lowered his voice. “I need your help.”
“My help?” the cheetah asked in shock. “Me? I find it hard to believe there isn’t anyone in San Francisco you can’t bully into helping you with whatever this is.”
“You think I’d be here if there were?” Arnold growled, then shut his muzzle. “Is there somewhere we can go where we won’t be listened to?”
After thinking it over, the cheetah headed down the hall. The first opened door showed a room with a mattress on the floor and no other furniture. The fox was standing, his shorts to his knees with a naked ermine sucking him off. He winked at Arnold, pulling his cock out of the muzzle and wagging it.
The cheetah looked in the next door and shook his head. The wolf in the bathroom glared at Arnold as he walked by. The next door was an empty room, and Arnold followed him in. The door closed the cheetah leaned against it.
“This is the best I can offer, so make it quick; your attempt at being contrite only gives you so much leeway.”
Where the fuck did the cheetah come off using that tone with him? Arnold didn’t comment. He’d swallowed his old men’s cocks often enough, so he could swallow his own pride this once.
He kept his voice low. “I need your help to find someone.”
“Call them; there’s an app for that. I’m sure you can use your winning personality to convince them to tell you where they are hiding.”
“It’s not like that,” Arnold snapped, then caught himself. “He’s been kidnapped.”
The cheetah was serious when he spoke. “Call the FBI, they have experts for that.”
Arnold shook his head.
“You need to be more forthcoming, because I’m having trouble believing you can’t find even one person in San Francisco willing to overlook the kind of man you are for something like this.”
Arnold glared at the cheetah. Didn’t he get how important this was? Why did the past matter?
“You’re not giving me any reason to want to help a rapist—”
“That was payment,” he growled. Could the cheetah read minds?
“Call it what you want, I know what it is. And I don’t care to help one.” He turned and reached for the knob.
“I need it.” Arnold tried to put all the desperation he felt in his voice.
“I wish you luck finding someone you haven’t screwed over. Maybe they’ll be more agreeable.” The cheetah kept his hand on the knob.
“You have to help, you’re a cop. That’s what you do.”
“Was a cop, and there are plenty of officers in San Francisco.”
“They’re all in Alex’s bed.”
The cheetah let go of the knob and went back to leaning against the door. “He’s one of your brothers. Why wouldn’t you want him to know what you’re doing?”
Arnold snorted. “Clearly you don’t have brothers.”
“I have one.” The tone was sad.
“Then you know you don’t go to them if you don’t want your old men to know what you’ve let happen.”
“Let happen?”
Arnold cursed.
“Something happened, you’re partially or wholly at fault, and your fathers are going to be angry when they find out. Which one of your brothers was kidnapped?”
Arnold glared, pissed the cheetah had worked it out from that slip, but also felt justified in coming to him for help because of it. “Midge.”
The cheetah frowned, then shook his head.
“Arthur,” Arnold said.
“Right, the small one. Midge, of course.” He looked at Arnold and waited.
Fuck, why couldn’t he act like those Society assholes were supposed to and jump at the chance to right a wrong. “What do you want?” If any of his brothers ever found out he owed the Society, they were going to skin him, then fuck him. The cheetah raised an eyebrow. “It’s clear you aren’t going to simply help, what do you want? Name it and I’ll make it happen.”
“Anything I want?”
Arnold nodded.
“I was under the impression your guys didn’t like each other that much. This feels like more than wanting to avoid your fathers’ wrath.”
He wasn’t going into an explanation of how far he’d go to avoid those two’s anger. “Midge’s different,” he admitted.
The cheetah crossed his arms over his chest, his expression turning into something eerily similar to Adam when he was planning something nasty. Arnold considered saying no right now. In any other situation he would’ve, but this was Midge.
The cheetah took his phone out. “Jacob, Dent here. No, everything’s going well with the move. No, please don’t send anyone else—the guys here don’t need extra temptation—but that’s not why I’m calling. I’m leaving the city for a couple of days, so Colby is in charge.” The cheetah eyed Arnold. “No, no trouble. Helping someone out. If he worries, tell him to call Oscar; he can check in on me no matter where I am.” He listened a little longer, then put the phone away. “Let’s go.”
“What’s the price?”
“Is your family that screwed up that after telling me your brother’s missing, you expect me to demand payment?”
“You didn’t seem to be keen on helping a few minutes ago.”
The cheetah studied him. “I learned how tough it is to go against your nature awhile back. I wasn’t going to give you any slack when I thought this was just about you and your ego, but you said Midge is different. This is all about him, isn’t it?”
Arnold glared to hide his fear. If the cheetah understood what Midge meant to him, he was more than in debt; he’d be the cheetah’s slave.
“I’m not going to make you pay for trying to be a better person, Arnold.”
He studied the cheetah while making sure he’d heard right. Of course, he might’ve been lying. His family had a reputation for lies, but in their few interactions, the one thing that had struck Arnold was how forthright the cheetah was.
“Thank you.” He wanted to take the words back; they tasted as horrible as he’d expected.
The cheetah smiled. “Another point.” He left the room. “Will,” he called to the wolf who was re-entering. “I need to head out. Make sure nothing happens here that require the cops being called. I don’t need Cooper getting these guys in trouble just because they can’t keep their cocks in their pants. You have the codes, so lock the place up when you guys are done. Call Martin when everything is in my new apartment.”
The cheetah began going down the stairs, then turned back to Arnold. “Where’s your car? “Mine’s a few blocks away.”
“I ride-shared my way here.”
“Great,” the cheetah grumbled. “I don’t want to hear any comments about my car, is that clear?”
Arnold grinned. “So it’s that bad of a car, is it?”
“You were doing so great,” the cheetah replied, “and then you had to be an ass again.” Why was Denver so fucking cold in October? Arnold Orr had checked the weather, and they’d called for something in the sixties; this was no more than forty. He’d gone back inside the airport to buy an insulated jacket to put over his own light one. The wind tried to rip it off him as soon as he stepped outside to catch a car.
And the wind was cold. What was it with this city?
Of course there were no ride-shares waiting. Arnold considered renting a car, but this wasn’t San Francisco Bay; paying upfront in cash wouldn’t keep them from requiring his name, and Aiden’s sifters would come across it, and defeat the point of not using the jet to come here. He didn’t want to have to explain what he was doing in Denver.
While he waited, cursing the Denver weather, a man and his young daughter stepped to a car, each pulling a suitcase. The woman behind the wheel stepped out and the chipmunk family hugged, speaking happily. The woman sat in the passenger seat as the husband and daughter went to the opening trunk.
The father spoke happily with his daughter and Arnold swallowed. Look away, he told himself. You don’t get to have that. You don’t get to have your old men show affection toward you. Stop making yourself miserable. Then the girl’s suitcase caught on a crack in the concrete, tipped over, and spilled its contents.
The sense of the scene change.
She shrank in on herself, shaking. All happiness vanished from her father’s face, and he tensed. The mother’s gaze shifted to the side mirror, so she saw, but all she expressed was resignation.
Arnold moved before the father did, crossing the distance as the hand came up. He was far too familiar with this scene, and for once he could do something about it. He caught the hand as it started down, the back of it aimed for the girl’s face.
“What the fuck?” the man exclaimed as Arnold shove him against the car hard enough to make it rock.
“You don’t hit your kid,” Arnold growled.
“Get off me.” The chipmunk pushed against Arnold, but the mass difference was too great. Even if Arnold wasn’t enhanced, the man wouldn’t move until Arnold was ready.
“Did you hear me?” Arnold lowered his muzzle next to the man’s ear and whispered, “Count yourself fucking lucky she’s standing right there, otherwise I’d give you a taste of what being knock around feels like.”
The man froze.
“Good,” Arnold whispered. “That’s what fear tastes like. That’s what you’re doing to your daughter when you hit her.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Sure you weren’t. If I ever find out you hit her again, I will find you. Get me?”
The man nodded and Arnold let him go, smiling. There were now three cars in the ride-share parking. He sat in the back of the closest one, giving the driver three hundred-dollar bills with his destination address. She looked at the bills like she had no idea what they were, then shrugged and drove away.
* * * * *
She let him out next to the van parked on the side of the street, in front of his destination. Men were coming in and out of a door. He slipped another hundred-dollar bill to her and exited before she commented. He smelled baking—the bakery kind, not what came from a happy family home.
The men were jovial, of various species and body types, from skinny to rivaling Arnold’s own muscular body. In the lull of people he headed for the door, and a thin fox barely wearing anything exited, holding a bag. He looked Arnold up and down and whistled.
“Well hello there, stripes.” He licked his lips. “Please tell me you’re one of Denton’s friends, and that I can help you move your package.”
How could this guy stand the cold in his shorts and open shirt? “What’s going on here?”
“Oh, Dent’s moving again.” The fox dropped the bag on the sidewalk and approached Arnold, then ran a hand up the jacket’s zipper. “But you don’t have to worry about him. Dent has half the city’s men helping him. I can definitely take the time to help you take a load off your feet.” He smiled lecherously. “Better yet, I can simply take a load from you.” He winked, moving closer.
At least the cheetah surrounded himself with willing men, even if his choice in body type left something to be desired. “Put on some muscles and you can ask me again.” He walked around the fox, ignoring the snort, and stepped through the door, noting the “Denton Brislow, Private Investigator” painted in small letters. Steps took him down to a long room with a desk at the end and empty bookcase behind it.
A muscular rottweiler carrying two stacked boxed entered the room from the door at the back.
“Where’s Denton?” Arnold asked.
The canine indicated the door he’d entered from as a gorilla and bull maneuvered a bookcase through it. Arnold let them pass, grinning at the hungry look they gave him. Those two he’d do if he wasn’t in a hurry.
Beyond the door was a small landing with a door leading outside, to an alley where two guys were making out—no, two of them were kissing while a third was on his knees, both their cocks in his mouth. That was one way to stay warm outside. A voice he thought he recognized came from up the stairs.
“Damn it, Gregg, careful with those. My mom gave them to me.”
Arnold looked at the muscular duo; maybe he should invite them to San Francisco Bay and show them a good time.
He stepped aside to let a beagle, whose ears were folded back, pass. The box in his hand clinked like it contained glassware. Up the stairs he entered a minuscule entryway with a kitchen on the left and living room on the right.
The cheetah stood in the kitchen, looking it over. There was a table, stove, and fridge left in it. On the table were three open boxes each with “Sweet Mask” written within a mask on the side, and two empty 1st and Best pizza boxes.
The cheetah noticed him. “Good. You can help with the fridge. Will!” he called. “Will! Come on, you guys came to help, not fuck.”
“We’re not fucking!” came the reply, followed by a moan.
The cheetah rolled his eyes. “You’re going to have to wait for someone else. The fridge is a two-man job.”
Arnold snorted. “I’m not the help.”
“You missed the orgy by two days.”
Arnold rolled his eyes. “I saw your selection. Not enough of them are to my taste. You really going to let them fuck when they should be working?”
“Can’t be helped,” the cheetah replied. “It’s why I sent the invite to everyone. There’s enough of them catching their breath to keep things moving.” He looked Arnold over, the look more critical than desire. “Who did you come with? I don’t remember you.”
“Really? Just like that, you forget me?” Anger slipped in his voice. Arnold stepped forward, considered unleashing his influence on him as a reminder, but a hand groped his ass.
The fox stepped lightly out of Arnold’s reach before he could react, laughing. “Forget him, I’m packing enough to satisfy any of your needs.”
“I hate sending you there, Brad,” the cheetah said, “but the bedroom has more boxes.”
The fox licked his lips at Arnold. “Come help me?”
“No.”
“Your loss.” The fox vanished through a door and squealed.
“There goes another one. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.”
“Don’t you people know how to control your men?”
“Us people?” The cheetah’s momentary smile fell, replaced by a groan. “Fuck, what are you doing here?”
Arnold smiled in triumph. “So you do remember me.”
The cheetah sighed. “Tiger with a sense of entitlement, definitely an Orr. There’s only two with that build, and only one who’d think I’d remember him after what he pulled. So you’re Arnold. I’m going to ask again. What are you doing here?”
“Do you always get guys off the street to move your stuff for you?” Arnold moved out of the way of the bull and gorilla. The cheetah indicated the fridge.
“Problem?” the bull asked, nodding to the tiger.
“I can deal with him. These are my friends, and they offered to help. Don’t make me ask again, Arnold. You are not one of the people I need to be patient with.”
“Of course they volunteered; is it money, or your cock?”
“Get out.”
“Nothing wrong with either.”
“Arnold, if you don’t stop insulting my friends, I am going to throw you out.”
Arnold stiffened and almost dared him to do it, but remembered how the cheetah had managed to turn his ability against him. He didn’t want to go through that again, especially not without one of his brothers here to assuage the need. He reined in his temper.
“We need to talk.”
“Oh good,” the cheetah said sarcastically. “It already happened, so you can go.”
Arnold bit back his reply as the bull and gorilla entered the hallway with the fridge. Before he could speak, a gray wolf left a room, zipping himself up.
“Bathroom, Will,” the cheetah said to the wolf. “Those boxes you said you’d take are still there. Richard! Stop distracting the guys helping me! Or at least move a box and pretend like you’re here to help and not suck off everyone here.”
The reply was unintelligible from that Richard person having something in his mouth. Arnold considered going in there and teaching him how to behave.
The cheetah rubbed his muzzle. “I swear, he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
“We need to talk,” Arnold stated.
“No, we don’t. Leave.”
“I didn’t come to this fucking cold city for you to treat me like one of them,” Arnold growled. “I deserve respect.”
The cheetah let out a mirthless bark of laughter. “Oh, that’s rich. You, demanding respect after what you pulled on us.”
“That was owed payment.”
“Rape is never a form of payment.”
The wolf stepped out of the bathroom, a box in his arms, and the cheetah glared at him. The wolf vanished back in. “Let me guess, you think that because you didn’t get to go through with it, it doesn’t count. That the trauma you caused Martin just evaporated, right?”
“Who the fuck is Martin?”
The cheetah ground his teeth, then shook his head. “No. I’m not doing this. I’m not getting in a fight with you over something you don’t even understand. The day you’re here with an apology, you can give this a try.”
“An apology?” Arnold snapped. “I didn’t—” He shut his muzzle. He hated needing anyone, but that was the situation he was in right now. “I’m sorry,” he said through gritted teeth.
The cheetah stared at him, seeming to have trouble forming words. “Do you—” The mouth moved, but nothing came out. “Why are you here?” he finally asked, as if he couldn’t believe he was uttering the words.
Arnold looked around. Anyone could listen in, but at least there was no one watching him debase himself like this. He lowered his voice. “I need your help.”
“My help?” the cheetah asked in shock. “Me? I find it hard to believe there isn’t anyone in San Francisco you can’t bully into helping you with whatever this is.”
“You think I’d be here if there were?” Arnold growled, then shut his muzzle. “Is there somewhere we can go where we won’t be listened to?”
After thinking it over, the cheetah headed down the hall. The first opened door showed a room with a mattress on the floor and no other furniture. The fox was standing, his shorts to his knees with a naked ermine sucking him off. He winked at Arnold, pulling his cock out of the muzzle and wagging it.
The cheetah looked in the next door and shook his head. The wolf in the bathroom glared at Arnold as he walked by. The next door was an empty room, and Arnold followed him in. The door closed the cheetah leaned against it.
“This is the best I can offer, so make it quick; your attempt at being contrite only gives you so much leeway.”
Where the fuck did the cheetah come off using that tone with him? Arnold didn’t comment. He’d swallowed his old men’s cocks often enough, so he could swallow his own pride this once.
He kept his voice low. “I need your help to find someone.”
“Call them; there’s an app for that. I’m sure you can use your winning personality to convince them to tell you where they are hiding.”
“It’s not like that,” Arnold snapped, then caught himself. “He’s been kidnapped.”
The cheetah was serious when he spoke. “Call the FBI, they have experts for that.”
Arnold shook his head.
“You need to be more forthcoming, because I’m having trouble believing you can’t find even one person in San Francisco willing to overlook the kind of man you are for something like this.”
Arnold glared at the cheetah. Didn’t he get how important this was? Why did the past matter?
“You’re not giving me any reason to want to help a rapist—”
“That was payment,” he growled. Could the cheetah read minds?
“Call it what you want, I know what it is. And I don’t care to help one.” He turned and reached for the knob.
“I need it.” Arnold tried to put all the desperation he felt in his voice.
“I wish you luck finding someone you haven’t screwed over. Maybe they’ll be more agreeable.” The cheetah kept his hand on the knob.
“You have to help, you’re a cop. That’s what you do.”
“Was a cop, and there are plenty of officers in San Francisco.”
“They’re all in Alex’s bed.”
The cheetah let go of the knob and went back to leaning against the door. “He’s one of your brothers. Why wouldn’t you want him to know what you’re doing?”
Arnold snorted. “Clearly you don’t have brothers.”
“I have one.” The tone was sad.
“Then you know you don’t go to them if you don’t want your old men to know what you’ve let happen.”
“Let happen?”
Arnold cursed.
“Something happened, you’re partially or wholly at fault, and your fathers are going to be angry when they find out. Which one of your brothers was kidnapped?”
Arnold glared, pissed the cheetah had worked it out from that slip, but also felt justified in coming to him for help because of it. “Midge.”
The cheetah frowned, then shook his head.
“Arthur,” Arnold said.
“Right, the small one. Midge, of course.” He looked at Arnold and waited.
Fuck, why couldn’t he act like those Society assholes were supposed to and jump at the chance to right a wrong. “What do you want?” If any of his brothers ever found out he owed the Society, they were going to skin him, then fuck him. The cheetah raised an eyebrow. “It’s clear you aren’t going to simply help, what do you want? Name it and I’ll make it happen.”
“Anything I want?”
Arnold nodded.
“I was under the impression your guys didn’t like each other that much. This feels like more than wanting to avoid your fathers’ wrath.”
He wasn’t going into an explanation of how far he’d go to avoid those two’s anger. “Midge’s different,” he admitted.
The cheetah crossed his arms over his chest, his expression turning into something eerily similar to Adam when he was planning something nasty. Arnold considered saying no right now. In any other situation he would’ve, but this was Midge.
The cheetah took his phone out. “Jacob, Dent here. No, everything’s going well with the move. No, please don’t send anyone else—the guys here don’t need extra temptation—but that’s not why I’m calling. I’m leaving the city for a couple of days, so Colby is in charge.” The cheetah eyed Arnold. “No, no trouble. Helping someone out. If he worries, tell him to call Oscar; he can check in on me no matter where I am.” He listened a little longer, then put the phone away. “Let’s go.”
“What’s the price?”
“Is your family that screwed up that after telling me your brother’s missing, you expect me to demand payment?”
“You didn’t seem to be keen on helping a few minutes ago.”
The cheetah studied him. “I learned how tough it is to go against your nature awhile back. I wasn’t going to give you any slack when I thought this was just about you and your ego, but you said Midge is different. This is all about him, isn’t it?”
Arnold glared to hide his fear. If the cheetah understood what Midge meant to him, he was more than in debt; he’d be the cheetah’s slave.
“I’m not going to make you pay for trying to be a better person, Arnold.”
He studied the cheetah while making sure he’d heard right. Of course, he might’ve been lying. His family had a reputation for lies, but in their few interactions, the one thing that had struck Arnold was how forthright the cheetah was.
“Thank you.” He wanted to take the words back; they tasted as horrible as he’d expected.
The cheetah smiled. “Another point.” He left the room. “Will,” he called to the wolf who was re-entering. “I need to head out. Make sure nothing happens here that require the cops being called. I don’t need Cooper getting these guys in trouble just because they can’t keep their cocks in their pants. You have the codes, so lock the place up when you guys are done. Call Martin when everything is in my new apartment.”
The cheetah began going down the stairs, then turned back to Arnold. “Where’s your car? “Mine’s a few blocks away.”
“I ride-shared my way here.”
“Great,” the cheetah grumbled. “I don’t want to hear any comments about my car, is that clear?”
Arnold grinned. “So it’s that bad of a car, is it?”
“You were doing so great,” the cheetah replied, “and then you had to be an ass again.”
And the wind was cold. What was it with this city?
Of course there were no ride-shares waiting. Arnold considered renting a car, but this wasn’t San Francisco Bay; paying upfront in cash wouldn’t keep them from requiring his name, and Aiden’s sifters would come across it, and defeat the point of not using the jet to come here. He didn’t want to have to explain what he was doing in Denver.
While he waited, cursing the Denver weather, a man and his young daughter stepped to a car, each pulling a suitcase. The woman behind the wheel stepped out and the chipmunk family hugged, speaking happily. The woman sat in the passenger seat as the husband and daughter went to the opening trunk.
The father spoke happily with his daughter and Arnold swallowed. Look away, he told himself. You don’t get to have that. You don’t get to have your old men show affection toward you. Stop making yourself miserable. Then the girl’s suitcase caught on a crack in the concrete, tipped over, and spilled its contents.
The sense of the scene change.
She shrank in on herself, shaking. All happiness vanished from her father’s face, and he tensed. The mother’s gaze shifted to the side mirror, so she saw, but all she expressed was resignation.
Arnold moved before the father did, crossing the distance as the hand came up. He was far too familiar with this scene, and for once he could do something about it. He caught the hand as it started down, the back of it aimed for the girl’s face.
“What the fuck?” the man exclaimed as Arnold shove him against the car hard enough to make it rock.
“You don’t hit your kid,” Arnold growled.
“Get off me.” The chipmunk pushed against Arnold, but the mass difference was too great. Even if Arnold wasn’t enhanced, the man wouldn’t move until Arnold was ready.
“Did you hear me?” Arnold lowered his muzzle next to the man’s ear and whispered, “Count yourself fucking lucky she’s standing right there, otherwise I’d give you a taste of what being knock around feels like.”
The man froze.
“Good,” Arnold whispered. “That’s what fear tastes like. That’s what you’re doing to your daughter when you hit her.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Sure you weren’t. If I ever find out you hit her again, I will find you. Get me?”
The man nodded and Arnold let him go, smiling. There were now three cars in the ride-share parking. He sat in the back of the closest one, giving the driver three hundred-dollar bills with his destination address. She looked at the bills like she had no idea what they were, then shrugged and drove away.
* * * * *
She let him out next to the van parked on the side of the street, in front of his destination. Men were coming in and out of a door. He slipped another hundred-dollar bill to her and exited before she commented. He smelled baking—the bakery kind, not what came from a happy family home.
The men were jovial, of various species and body types, from skinny to rivaling Arnold’s own muscular body. In the lull of people he headed for the door, and a thin fox barely wearing anything exited, holding a bag. He looked Arnold up and down and whistled.
“Well hello there, stripes.” He licked his lips. “Please tell me you’re one of Denton’s friends, and that I can help you move your package.”
How could this guy stand the cold in his shorts and open shirt? “What’s going on here?”
“Oh, Dent’s moving again.” The fox dropped the bag on the sidewalk and approached Arnold, then ran a hand up the jacket’s zipper. “But you don’t have to worry about him. Dent has half the city’s men helping him. I can definitely take the time to help you take a load off your feet.” He smiled lecherously. “Better yet, I can simply take a load from you.” He winked, moving closer.
At least the cheetah surrounded himself with willing men, even if his choice in body type left something to be desired. “Put on some muscles and you can ask me again.” He walked around the fox, ignoring the snort, and stepped through the door, noting the “Denton Brislow, Private Investigator” painted in small letters. Steps took him down to a long room with a desk at the end and empty bookcase behind it.
A muscular rottweiler carrying two stacked boxed entered the room from the door at the back.
“Where’s Denton?” Arnold asked.
The canine indicated the door he’d entered from as a gorilla and bull maneuvered a bookcase through it. Arnold let them pass, grinning at the hungry look they gave him. Those two he’d do if he wasn’t in a hurry.
Beyond the door was a small landing with a door leading outside, to an alley where two guys were making out—no, two of them were kissing while a third was on his knees, both their cocks in his mouth. That was one way to stay warm outside. A voice he thought he recognized came from up the stairs.
“Damn it, Gregg, careful with those. My mom gave them to me.”
Arnold looked at the muscular duo; maybe he should invite them to San Francisco Bay and show them a good time.
He stepped aside to let a beagle, whose ears were folded back, pass. The box in his hand clinked like it contained glassware. Up the stairs he entered a minuscule entryway with a kitchen on the left and living room on the right.
The cheetah stood in the kitchen, looking it over. There was a table, stove, and fridge left in it. On the table were three open boxes each with “Sweet Mask” written within a mask on the side, and two empty 1st and Best pizza boxes.
The cheetah noticed him. “Good. You can help with the fridge. Will!” he called. “Will! Come on, you guys came to help, not fuck.”
“We’re not fucking!” came the reply, followed by a moan.
The cheetah rolled his eyes. “You’re going to have to wait for someone else. The fridge is a two-man job.”
Arnold snorted. “I’m not the help.”
“You missed the orgy by two days.”
Arnold rolled his eyes. “I saw your selection. Not enough of them are to my taste. You really going to let them fuck when they should be working?”
“Can’t be helped,” the cheetah replied. “It’s why I sent the invite to everyone. There’s enough of them catching their breath to keep things moving.” He looked Arnold over, the look more critical than desire. “Who did you come with? I don’t remember you.”
“Really? Just like that, you forget me?” Anger slipped in his voice. Arnold stepped forward, considered unleashing his influence on him as a reminder, but a hand groped his ass.
The fox stepped lightly out of Arnold’s reach before he could react, laughing. “Forget him, I’m packing enough to satisfy any of your needs.”
“I hate sending you there, Brad,” the cheetah said, “but the bedroom has more boxes.”
The fox licked his lips at Arnold. “Come help me?”
“No.”
“Your loss.” The fox vanished through a door and squealed.
“There goes another one. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.”
“Don’t you people know how to control your men?”
“Us people?” The cheetah’s momentary smile fell, replaced by a groan. “Fuck, what are you doing here?”
Arnold smiled in triumph. “So you do remember me.”
The cheetah sighed. “Tiger with a sense of entitlement, definitely an Orr. There’s only two with that build, and only one who’d think I’d remember him after what he pulled. So you’re Arnold. I’m going to ask again. What are you doing here?”
“Do you always get guys off the street to move your stuff for you?” Arnold moved out of the way of the bull and gorilla. The cheetah indicated the fridge.
“Problem?” the bull asked, nodding to the tiger.
“I can deal with him. These are my friends, and they offered to help. Don’t make me ask again, Arnold. You are not one of the people I need to be patient with.”
“Of course they volunteered; is it money, or your cock?”
“Get out.”
“Nothing wrong with either.”
“Arnold, if you don’t stop insulting my friends, I am going to throw you out.”
Arnold stiffened and almost dared him to do it, but remembered how the cheetah had managed to turn his ability against him. He didn’t want to go through that again, especially not without one of his brothers here to assuage the need. He reined in his temper.
“We need to talk.”
“Oh good,” the cheetah said sarcastically. “It already happened, so you can go.”
Arnold bit back his reply as the bull and gorilla entered the hallway with the fridge. Before he could speak, a gray wolf left a room, zipping himself up.
“Bathroom, Will,” the cheetah said to the wolf. “Those boxes you said you’d take are still there. Richard! Stop distracting the guys helping me! Or at least move a box and pretend like you’re here to help and not suck off everyone here.”
The reply was unintelligible from that Richard person having something in his mouth. Arnold considered going in there and teaching him how to behave.
The cheetah rubbed his muzzle. “I swear, he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
“We need to talk,” Arnold stated.
“No, we don’t. Leave.”
“I didn’t come to this fucking cold city for you to treat me like one of them,” Arnold growled. “I deserve respect.”
The cheetah let out a mirthless bark of laughter. “Oh, that’s rich. You, demanding respect after what you pulled on us.”
“That was owed payment.”
“Rape is never a form of payment.”
The wolf stepped out of the bathroom, a box in his arms, and the cheetah glared at him. The wolf vanished back in. “Let me guess, you think that because you didn’t get to go through with it, it doesn’t count. That the trauma you caused Martin just evaporated, right?”
“Who the fuck is Martin?”
The cheetah ground his teeth, then shook his head. “No. I’m not doing this. I’m not getting in a fight with you over something you don’t even understand. The day you’re here with an apology, you can give this a try.”
“An apology?” Arnold snapped. “I didn’t—” He shut his muzzle. He hated needing anyone, but that was the situation he was in right now. “I’m sorry,” he said through gritted teeth.
The cheetah stared at him, seeming to have trouble forming words. “Do you—” The mouth moved, but nothing came out. “Why are you here?” he finally asked, as if he couldn’t believe he was uttering the words.
Arnold looked around. Anyone could listen in, but at least there was no one watching him debase himself like this. He lowered his voice. “I need your help.”
“My help?” the cheetah asked in shock. “Me? I find it hard to believe there isn’t anyone in San Francisco you can’t bully into helping you with whatever this is.”
“You think I’d be here if there were?” Arnold growled, then shut his muzzle. “Is there somewhere we can go where we won’t be listened to?”
After thinking it over, the cheetah headed down the hall. The first opened door showed a room with a mattress on the floor and no other furniture. The fox was standing, his shorts to his knees with a naked ermine sucking him off. He winked at Arnold, pulling his cock out of the muzzle and wagging it.
The cheetah looked in the next door and shook his head. The wolf in the bathroom glared at Arnold as he walked by. The next door was an empty room, and Arnold followed him in. The door closed the cheetah leaned against it.
“This is the best I can offer, so make it quick; your attempt at being contrite only gives you so much leeway.”
Where the fuck did the cheetah come off using that tone with him? Arnold didn’t comment. He’d swallowed his old men’s cocks often enough, so he could swallow his own pride this once.
He kept his voice low. “I need your help to find someone.”
“Call them; there’s an app for that. I’m sure you can use your winning personality to convince them to tell you where they are hiding.”
“It’s not like that,” Arnold snapped, then caught himself. “He’s been kidnapped.”
The cheetah was serious when he spoke. “Call the FBI, they have experts for that.”
Arnold shook his head.
“You need to be more forthcoming, because I’m having trouble believing you can’t find even one person in San Francisco willing to overlook the kind of man you are for something like this.”
Arnold glared at the cheetah. Didn’t he get how important this was? Why did the past matter?
“You’re not giving me any reason to want to help a rapist—”
“That was payment,” he growled. Could the cheetah read minds?
“Call it what you want, I know what it is. And I don’t care to help one.” He turned and reached for the knob.
“I need it.” Arnold tried to put all the desperation he felt in his voice.
“I wish you luck finding someone you haven’t screwed over. Maybe they’ll be more agreeable.” The cheetah kept his hand on the knob.
“You have to help, you’re a cop. That’s what you do.”
“Was a cop, and there are plenty of officers in San Francisco.”
“They’re all in Alex’s bed.”
The cheetah let go of the knob and went back to leaning against the door. “He’s one of your brothers. Why wouldn’t you want him to know what you’re doing?”
Arnold snorted. “Clearly you don’t have brothers.”
“I have one.” The tone was sad.
“Then you know you don’t go to them if you don’t want your old men to know what you’ve let happen.”
“Let happen?”
Arnold cursed.
“Something happened, you’re partially or wholly at fault, and your fathers are going to be angry when they find out. Which one of your brothers was kidnapped?”
Arnold glared, pissed the cheetah had worked it out from that slip, but also felt justified in coming to him for help because of it. “Midge.”
The cheetah frowned, then shook his head.
“Arthur,” Arnold said.
“Right, the small one. Midge, of course.” He looked at Arnold and waited.
Fuck, why couldn’t he act like those Society assholes were supposed to and jump at the chance to right a wrong. “What do you want?” If any of his brothers ever found out he owed the Society, they were going to skin him, then fuck him. The cheetah raised an eyebrow. “It’s clear you aren’t going to simply help, what do you want? Name it and I’ll make it happen.”
“Anything I want?”
Arnold nodded.
“I was under the impression your guys didn’t like each other that much. This feels like more than wanting to avoid your fathers’ wrath.”
He wasn’t going into an explanation of how far he’d go to avoid those two’s anger. “Midge’s different,” he admitted.
The cheetah crossed his arms over his chest, his expression turning into something eerily similar to Adam when he was planning something nasty. Arnold considered saying no right now. In any other situation he would’ve, but this was Midge.
The cheetah took his phone out. “Jacob, Dent here. No, everything’s going well with the move. No, please don’t send anyone else—the guys here don’t need extra temptation—but that’s not why I’m calling. I’m leaving the city for a couple of days, so Colby is in charge.” The cheetah eyed Arnold. “No, no trouble. Helping someone out. If he worries, tell him to call Oscar; he can check in on me no matter where I am.” He listened a little longer, then put the phone away. “Let’s go.”
“What’s the price?”
“Is your family that screwed up that after telling me your brother’s missing, you expect me to demand payment?”
“You didn’t seem to be keen on helping a few minutes ago.”
The cheetah studied him. “I learned how tough it is to go against your nature awhile back. I wasn’t going to give you any slack when I thought this was just about you and your ego, but you said Midge is different. This is all about him, isn’t it?”
Arnold glared to hide his fear. If the cheetah understood what Midge meant to him, he was more than in debt; he’d be the cheetah’s slave.
“I’m not going to make you pay for trying to be a better person, Arnold.”
He studied the cheetah while making sure he’d heard right. Of course, he might’ve been lying. His family had a reputation for lies, but in their few interactions, the one thing that had struck Arnold was how forthright the cheetah was.
“Thank you.” He wanted to take the words back; they tasted as horrible as he’d expected.
The cheetah smiled. “Another point.” He left the room. “Will,” he called to the wolf who was re-entering. “I need to head out. Make sure nothing happens here that require the cops being called. I don’t need Cooper getting these guys in trouble just because they can’t keep their cocks in their pants. You have the codes, so lock the place up when you guys are done. Call Martin when everything is in my new apartment.”
The cheetah began going down the stairs, then turned back to Arnold. “Where’s your car? “Mine’s a few blocks away.”
“I ride-shared my way here.”
“Great,” the cheetah grumbled. “I don’t want to hear any comments about my car, is that clear?”
Arnold grinned. “So it’s that bad of a car, is it?”
“You were doing so great,” the cheetah replied, “and then you had to be an ass again.” Why was Denver so fucking cold in October? Arnold Orr had checked the weather, and they’d called for something in the sixties; this was no more than forty. He’d gone back inside the airport to buy an insulated jacket to put over his own light one. The wind tried to rip it off him as soon as he stepped outside to catch a car.
And the wind was cold. What was it with this city?
Of course there were no ride-shares waiting. Arnold considered renting a car, but this wasn’t San Francisco Bay; paying upfront in cash wouldn’t keep them from requiring his name, and Aiden’s sifters would come across it, and defeat the point of not using the jet to come here. He didn’t want to have to explain what he was doing in Denver.
While he waited, cursing the Denver weather, a man and his young daughter stepped to a car, each pulling a suitcase. The woman behind the wheel stepped out and the chipmunk family hugged, speaking happily. The woman sat in the passenger seat as the husband and daughter went to the opening trunk.
The father spoke happily with his daughter and Arnold swallowed. Look away, he told himself. You don’t get to have that. You don’t get to have your old men show affection toward you. Stop making yourself miserable. Then the girl’s suitcase caught on a crack in the concrete, tipped over, and spilled its contents.
The sense of the scene change.
She shrank in on herself, shaking. All happiness vanished from her father’s face, and he tensed. The mother’s gaze shifted to the side mirror, so she saw, but all she expressed was resignation.
Arnold moved before the father did, crossing the distance as the hand came up. He was far too familiar with this scene, and for once he could do something about it. He caught the hand as it started down, the back of it aimed for the girl’s face.
“What the fuck?” the man exclaimed as Arnold shove him against the car hard enough to make it rock.
“You don’t hit your kid,” Arnold growled.
“Get off me.” The chipmunk pushed against Arnold, but the mass difference was too great. Even if Arnold wasn’t enhanced, the man wouldn’t move until Arnold was ready.
“Did you hear me?” Arnold lowered his muzzle next to the man’s ear and whispered, “Count yourself fucking lucky she’s standing right there, otherwise I’d give you a taste of what being knock around feels like.”
The man froze.
“Good,” Arnold whispered. “That’s what fear tastes like. That’s what you’re doing to your daughter when you hit her.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Sure you weren’t. If I ever find out you hit her again, I will find you. Get me?”
The man nodded and Arnold let him go, smiling. There were now three cars in the ride-share parking. He sat in the back of the closest one, giving the driver three hundred-dollar bills with his destination address. She looked at the bills like she had no idea what they were, then shrugged and drove away.
* * * * *
She let him out next to the van parked on the side of the street, in front of his destination. Men were coming in and out of a door. He slipped another hundred-dollar bill to her and exited before she commented. He smelled baking—the bakery kind, not what came from a happy family home.
The men were jovial, of various species and body types, from skinny to rivaling Arnold’s own muscular body. In the lull of people he headed for the door, and a thin fox barely wearing anything exited, holding a bag. He looked Arnold up and down and whistled.
“Well hello there, stripes.” He licked his lips. “Please tell me you’re one of Denton’s friends, and that I can help you move your package.”
How could this guy stand the cold in his shorts and open shirt? “What’s going on here?”
“Oh, Dent’s moving again.” The fox dropped the bag on the sidewalk and approached Arnold, then ran a hand up the jacket’s zipper. “But you don’t have to worry about him. Dent has half the city’s men helping him. I can definitely take the time to help you take a load off your feet.” He smiled lecherously. “Better yet, I can simply take a load from you.” He winked, moving closer.
At least the cheetah surrounded himself with willing men, even if his choice in body type left something to be desired. “Put on some muscles and you can ask me again.” He walked around the fox, ignoring the snort, and stepped through the door, noting the “Denton Brislow, Private Investigator” painted in small letters. Steps took him down to a long room with a desk at the end and empty bookcase behind it.
A muscular rottweiler carrying two stacked boxed entered the room from the door at the back.
“Where’s Denton?” Arnold asked.
The canine indicated the door he’d entered from as a gorilla and bull maneuvered a bookcase through it. Arnold let them pass, grinning at the hungry look they gave him. Those two he’d do if he wasn’t in a hurry.
Beyond the door was a small landing with a door leading outside, to an alley where two guys were making out—no, two of them were kissing while a third was on his knees, both their cocks in his mouth. That was one way to stay warm outside. A voice he thought he recognized came from up the stairs.
“Damn it, Gregg, careful with those. My mom gave them to me.”
Arnold looked at the muscular duo; maybe he should invite them to San Francisco Bay and show them a good time.
He stepped aside to let a beagle, whose ears were folded back, pass. The box in his hand clinked like it contained glassware. Up the stairs he entered a minuscule entryway with a kitchen on the left and living room on the right.
The cheetah stood in the kitchen, looking it over. There was a table, stove, and fridge left in it. On the table were three open boxes each with “Sweet Mask” written within a mask on the side, and two empty 1st and Best pizza boxes.
The cheetah noticed him. “Good. You can help with the fridge. Will!” he called. “Will! Come on, you guys came to help, not fuck.”
“We’re not fucking!” came the reply, followed by a moan.
The cheetah rolled his eyes. “You’re going to have to wait for someone else. The fridge is a two-man job.”
Arnold snorted. “I’m not the help.”
“You missed the orgy by two days.”
Arnold rolled his eyes. “I saw your selection. Not enough of them are to my taste. You really going to let them fuck when they should be working?”
“Can’t be helped,” the cheetah replied. “It’s why I sent the invite to everyone. There’s enough of them catching their breath to keep things moving.” He looked Arnold over, the look more critical than desire. “Who did you come with? I don’t remember you.”
“Really? Just like that, you forget me?” Anger slipped in his voice. Arnold stepped forward, considered unleashing his influence on him as a reminder, but a hand groped his ass.
The fox stepped lightly out of Arnold’s reach before he could react, laughing. “Forget him, I’m packing enough to satisfy any of your needs.”
“I hate sending you there, Brad,” the cheetah said, “but the bedroom has more boxes.”
The fox licked his lips at Arnold. “Come help me?”
“No.”
“Your loss.” The fox vanished through a door and squealed.
“There goes another one. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.”
“Don’t you people know how to control your men?”
“Us people?” The cheetah’s momentary smile fell, replaced by a groan. “Fuck, what are you doing here?”
Arnold smiled in triumph. “So you do remember me.”
The cheetah sighed. “Tiger with a sense of entitlement, definitely an Orr. There’s only two with that build, and only one who’d think I’d remember him after what he pulled. So you’re Arnold. I’m going to ask again. What are you doing here?”
“Do you always get guys off the street to move your stuff for you?” Arnold moved out of the way of the bull and gorilla. The cheetah indicated the fridge.
“Problem?” the bull asked, nodding to the tiger.
“I can deal with him. These are my friends, and they offered to help. Don’t make me ask again, Arnold. You are not one of the people I need to be patient with.”
“Of course they volunteered; is it money, or your cock?”
“Get out.”
“Nothing wrong with either.”
“Arnold, if you don’t stop insulting my friends, I am going to throw you out.”
Arnold stiffened and almost dared him to do it, but remembered how the cheetah had managed to turn his ability against him. He didn’t want to go through that again, especially not without one of his brothers here to assuage the need. He reined in his temper.
“We need to talk.”
“Oh good,” the cheetah said sarcastically. “It already happened, so you can go.”
Arnold bit back his reply as the bull and gorilla entered the hallway with the fridge. Before he could speak, a gray wolf left a room, zipping himself up.
“Bathroom, Will,” the cheetah said to the wolf. “Those boxes you said you’d take are still there. Richard! Stop distracting the guys helping me! Or at least move a box and pretend like you’re here to help and not suck off everyone here.”
The reply was unintelligible from that Richard person having something in his mouth. Arnold considered going in there and teaching him how to behave.
The cheetah rubbed his muzzle. “I swear, he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”
“We need to talk,” Arnold stated.
“No, we don’t. Leave.”
“I didn’t come to this fucking cold city for you to treat me like one of them,” Arnold growled. “I deserve respect.”
The cheetah let out a mirthless bark of laughter. “Oh, that’s rich. You, demanding respect after what you pulled on us.”
“That was owed payment.”
“Rape is never a form of payment.”
The wolf stepped out of the bathroom, a box in his arms, and the cheetah glared at him. The wolf vanished back in. “Let me guess, you think that because you didn’t get to go through with it, it doesn’t count. That the trauma you caused Martin just evaporated, right?”
“Who the fuck is Martin?”
The cheetah ground his teeth, then shook his head. “No. I’m not doing this. I’m not getting in a fight with you over something you don’t even understand. The day you’re here with an apology, you can give this a try.”
“An apology?” Arnold snapped. “I didn’t—” He shut his muzzle. He hated needing anyone, but that was the situation he was in right now. “I’m sorry,” he said through gritted teeth.
The cheetah stared at him, seeming to have trouble forming words. “Do you—” The mouth moved, but nothing came out. “Why are you here?” he finally asked, as if he couldn’t believe he was uttering the words.
Arnold looked around. Anyone could listen in, but at least there was no one watching him debase himself like this. He lowered his voice. “I need your help.”
“My help?” the cheetah asked in shock. “Me? I find it hard to believe there isn’t anyone in San Francisco you can’t bully into helping you with whatever this is.”
“You think I’d be here if there were?” Arnold growled, then shut his muzzle. “Is there somewhere we can go where we won’t be listened to?”
After thinking it over, the cheetah headed down the hall. The first opened door showed a room with a mattress on the floor and no other furniture. The fox was standing, his shorts to his knees with a naked ermine sucking him off. He winked at Arnold, pulling his cock out of the muzzle and wagging it.
The cheetah looked in the next door and shook his head. The wolf in the bathroom glared at Arnold as he walked by. The next door was an empty room, and Arnold followed him in. The door closed the cheetah leaned against it.
“This is the best I can offer, so make it quick; your attempt at being contrite only gives you so much leeway.”
Where the fuck did the cheetah come off using that tone with him? Arnold didn’t comment. He’d swallowed his old men’s cocks often enough, so he could swallow his own pride this once.
He kept his voice low. “I need your help to find someone.”
“Call them; there’s an app for that. I’m sure you can use your winning personality to convince them to tell you where they are hiding.”
“It’s not like that,” Arnold snapped, then caught himself. “He’s been kidnapped.”
The cheetah was serious when he spoke. “Call the FBI, they have experts for that.”
Arnold shook his head.
“You need to be more forthcoming, because I’m having trouble believing you can’t find even one person in San Francisco willing to overlook the kind of man you are for something like this.”
Arnold glared at the cheetah. Didn’t he get how important this was? Why did the past matter?
“You’re not giving me any reason to want to help a rapist—”
“That was payment,” he growled. Could the cheetah read minds?
“Call it what you want, I know what it is. And I don’t care to help one.” He turned and reached for the knob.
“I need it.” Arnold tried to put all the desperation he felt in his voice.
“I wish you luck finding someone you haven’t screwed over. Maybe they’ll be more agreeable.” The cheetah kept his hand on the knob.
“You have to help, you’re a cop. That’s what you do.”
“Was a cop, and there are plenty of officers in San Francisco.”
“They’re all in Alex’s bed.”
The cheetah let go of the knob and went back to leaning against the door. “He’s one of your brothers. Why wouldn’t you want him to know what you’re doing?”
Arnold snorted. “Clearly you don’t have brothers.”
“I have one.” The tone was sad.
“Then you know you don’t go to them if you don’t want your old men to know what you’ve let happen.”
“Let happen?”
Arnold cursed.
“Something happened, you’re partially or wholly at fault, and your fathers are going to be angry when they find out. Which one of your brothers was kidnapped?”
Arnold glared, pissed the cheetah had worked it out from that slip, but also felt justified in coming to him for help because of it. “Midge.”
The cheetah frowned, then shook his head.
“Arthur,” Arnold said.
“Right, the small one. Midge, of course.” He looked at Arnold and waited.
Fuck, why couldn’t he act like those Society assholes were supposed to and jump at the chance to right a wrong. “What do you want?” If any of his brothers ever found out he owed the Society, they were going to skin him, then fuck him. The cheetah raised an eyebrow. “It’s clear you aren’t going to simply help, what do you want? Name it and I’ll make it happen.”
“Anything I want?”
Arnold nodded.
“I was under the impression your guys didn’t like each other that much. This feels like more than wanting to avoid your fathers’ wrath.”
He wasn’t going into an explanation of how far he’d go to avoid those two’s anger. “Midge’s different,” he admitted.
The cheetah crossed his arms over his chest, his expression turning into something eerily similar to Adam when he was planning something nasty. Arnold considered saying no right now. In any other situation he would’ve, but this was Midge.
The cheetah took his phone out. “Jacob, Dent here. No, everything’s going well with the move. No, please don’t send anyone else—the guys here don’t need extra temptation—but that’s not why I’m calling. I’m leaving the city for a couple of days, so Colby is in charge.” The cheetah eyed Arnold. “No, no trouble. Helping someone out. If he worries, tell him to call Oscar; he can check in on me no matter where I am.” He listened a little longer, then put the phone away. “Let’s go.”
“What’s the price?”
“Is your family that screwed up that after telling me your brother’s missing, you expect me to demand payment?”
“You didn’t seem to be keen on helping a few minutes ago.”
The cheetah studied him. “I learned how tough it is to go against your nature awhile back. I wasn’t going to give you any slack when I thought this was just about you and your ego, but you said Midge is different. This is all about him, isn’t it?”
Arnold glared to hide his fear. If the cheetah understood what Midge meant to him, he was more than in debt; he’d be the cheetah’s slave.
“I’m not going to make you pay for trying to be a better person, Arnold.”
He studied the cheetah while making sure he’d heard right. Of course, he might’ve been lying. His family had a reputation for lies, but in their few interactions, the one thing that had struck Arnold was how forthright the cheetah was.
“Thank you.” He wanted to take the words back; they tasted as horrible as he’d expected.
The cheetah smiled. “Another point.” He left the room. “Will,” he called to the wolf who was re-entering. “I need to head out. Make sure nothing happens here that require the cops being called. I don’t need Cooper getting these guys in trouble just because they can’t keep their cocks in their pants. You have the codes, so lock the place up when you guys are done. Call Martin when everything is in my new apartment.”
The cheetah began going down the stairs, then turned back to Arnold. “Where’s your car? “Mine’s a few blocks away.”
“I ride-shared my way here.”
“Great,” the cheetah grumbled. “I don’t want to hear any comments about my car, is that clear?”
Arnold grinned. “So it’s that bad of a car, is it?”
“You were doing so great,” the cheetah replied, “and then you had to be an ass again.”
