Chapter Nine

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck did I ever do to the Fates to cause this? It had been fifteen years since Storm had seen anyone remotely attached to his family, and yet on the first morning with his unclaimed mate, a fucking leech comes trundling down the road as if it was an everyday occurrence. And of course fucking Bullet was going to stop to say hello, the sneer on his face not doing anything to make him any prettier.

"Looking sharp, Shaz."

"What do you want, Bullet?" Storm rested his hands behind his back, doing nothing to hide the snarl he felt at hearing a long dead name.

"Freaking hell of a coincidence bumping into you. One might say fortuitous. Razor was talking about you just the other day."

Storm's jaw tightened at the use of his father's name. "What of it? We've had nothing to do with each other for years, and I'm sure we're all happier because of it. I know I am."

"Yeah, yeah, I get where your coming from, but hey Razor's not getting any younger, you know."

I'm surprised he's still breathing. Another hope dashed. Razor had been ancient when Storm was born, and it wasn't like he got any younger as Storm grew up.

"Whatever." Storm just needed Bullet to go. If the man got any idea he was within a five minute walk of Storm's house he'd never get any peace. "You've seen me. We've spoken. We'll do it again in another fifteen years, yeah? I've got places to go and things to do."

"Nah, man. You know that's not going to be how this goes. I've seen you now. Razor's up at Bozeman for a day or so before we head across to the lakes and then south to Florida. You have to come and say hello." Bullet moved his arm so Storm could see his gun. "You'd hate for me to put a bullet in that fine bakery window, now wouldn't you?"

"What the fuck? You've seriously put a kink in my fucking day. I was on my way to do something else. I only stopped in here for a fucking bacon bun." Storm thought for a moment, twiddling his fingers. "I'll grab my bike and follow you."

"And let you get lost? I don't think so." Bullet's sneer widened into a grimace masquerading as a grin. "Get on the back. I don't bite… much."

Fucking ass. Storm climbed on. His crocodile was growling, totally unhappy with the way things were going and he wasn't the only one. But Storm couldn't look back. Could not admit a weakness, or give the slightest hint there was something in the bakery compound that was important to him.

Keep him safe until I get back, he sent a prayer to his friends. Pax would be safe, if he stayed put, but Storm was not making a good impression running out on him before he'd kept his promises. Hopefully someone got the message and let his little pixie know he was one of the good guys and could be trusted to come back. Because you can bet those sweet sugar coated lips I will.

/~/~/~/~/

Pax was not good at waiting around. If someone asked him to wait five minutes, he got itchy feet in three. Pax had long accepted that was part of his nature – he just preferred to be buzzing around, even when he knew his waiting time had an end time.

The issue was this time it didn't. Python hadn't given Pax a fixed time when Storm would be coming back. It could be five minutes, it could be an hour, it could be a week for all Pax knew, and he'd be wrinkled and dead in a week if he stayed sitting on the pile of rags, doing as Storm apparently asked through some mystical woo-woo with his fingers.

You've only got the demon's word that's what Storm said. That was another problem when Pax was meant to sit and just…wait. His mind tended to go off on tangents, often completely unrelated to his current surroundings. But at least, in this case, Pax's eventful morning kept his mind relatively focused. And he couldn't think why Python would lie. It wasn't as though Pax was anyone important.

But maybe Python got the hand signals wrong. Maybe what Storm actually signaled was "get rid of the little hanger-on before I get back."

Pax's shoulders went down, and he slumped his head. He didn't like that line of thinking. Think of something positive. Quick.

Storm has lovely eyes. That made Pax sit up. Storm did have beautiful eyes and a sexy smile. Worth waiting for.

He offered to buy you donuts. Pax frowned. Get your facts right, brain. He offered donuts and all the cakes in the shop. He said he'd buy them. Let's not forget the important things.

That quietened down his brain for all of thirty seconds. Every part of Pax's existence knew how essential sweet things were. But it's not like it was possible for Pax's thoughts to stay quiet for long.

Storm has a nice house.

Noted. Pax nodded, and then quickly looked around to make sure no one would think he was talking to himself. But Cyrus and Python must have been in the back of the shop.

He wanted to introduce you to his friends. He's already introduced you to some of them.

That was another good point. Storm would never know how much that simple admission meant to Pax, and the damn man won't know if he doesn't come back.

Hearing a motorcycle, Pax peered around the workshop door, but the bike wasn't anything like the ones that had been on the road earlier, and the one that pulled up in front of the bakery only had one person on it. Not Storm. Pax was thorough. He did check.

More minutes passed. Pax had no idea how many, but it felt like forever. Realistically he knew it couldn't be that long. The man on the motorcycle had only just come out of the bakery, zapping off down the road steering his bike one-handed as he hung onto his bags of goodies.

A donut would be nice right now. But no, Pax was in the middle of a crisis, and while yes, a donut would absolutely be one way of making him feel better, Pax's mind went down a different path. Like, what if Storm got hurt, for example.

The demon said Storm would let his friends know if he needed help.

He didn't say how.

What if the man broke his phone?

What if he had no way to contact anyone?

What if he was naked and stranded somewhere in a hut in the woods?

Oh, wait. No. That one was me, without the naked part thank goodness, but what if…?

Storm said we were mates, that makes me responsible for him!

That was a sobering thought. Pax checked outside again but nothing had changed. Everyone was just going about their day, smiling, and waving to each other with no idea how much turmoil Pax was going through.

If I'm responsible for him, then I have to find him. Once that thought hit Pax's brain, it took hold and wouldn't leave. Pax didn't know a lot about mates. Once his uncle told him he couldn't have one, Pax had lost interest. But he'd been around enough shifters to know that mates to them were really important, and more importantly than that, mates were equal in a relationship.

It's my turn to be the hero. Pax frowned at his shoes. He was wearing his favorite sneakers. I don't think Italian loafers are necessary for hero duties. Sneakers would be more practical.

After deciding his clothing choices were satisfactory for what he needed to do, Pax focused on the next problem – transport. He discounted the fact he didn't actually know where Storm was. It wouldn't matter where his mate was if Pax didn't have a way to get to him. So…transport…

Swiveling around Pax eyed the trucks parked in the large workshop space. There were three of them, but none of them looked roadworthy. Pax wasn't a mechanic, but he was fairly sure the tires were meant to be on a vehicle before someone could drive it.

Bus? Train? Pax got up and wandered more into the middle of the door opening, looking up and down the road. He couldn't see signs of either – just the road going in both directions. So engrossed in trying to work out his plan, he jumped when he felt someone step up beside him.

"Going somewhere?" It was Cyrus, and his smile was kind. "I know this is a bit rough, but Storm will come back. He hasn't abandoned you."

"He'll come back if he can," Pax corrected, frantically trying to think of what he could say that wasn't an out-and-out lie. Shifters could sniff things like that, he'd learned that from experience. "It's just, I have a small studio apartment in Bozeman. It's that way, right?" Pax pointed down the road the way Storm had gone.

Cyrus nodded. "About half an hour's drive away."

Too far to walk then. "Is there a bus to Bozeman that stops here? Or a train station nearby? I figured, seeing as Storm is busy right now, I could go and grab some of my things – a change of clothes, water my plants…" he trailed off as his brain screamed, don't embellish. "You know, apartment things."

Cyrus clearly didn't pick up the lie because his grin widened. "Python can drive you if you like. He loves any excuse for taking one of his cars for a spin."

"How many cars has he got?" Pax was momentarily diverted. He could never understand why someone would want more than one car.

Cyrus crinkled up his brow. "Six right now. They're parked over in the workshop. My mate's hobby is buying cars, so yes, he'd be more than happy to take you to Bozeman. You'll probably be back in time for lunch. That will give you a chance to try one of Gwen's pies. From the bakery."

"Sounds lovely," Pax said faintly. It wasn't Cyrus's fault, Pax was already working out different ways to evade a demon. It's not like he hadn't done it before. "Thank you for the offer, that does sound great."

You'd better be in Bozeman, Storm, otherwise…otherwise… Pax stopped himself. He was on a mission. Like anything else, he'd wing it. That usually worked, right?