Chapter 1

March showed up, bringing a strong wind with it. The dead skeletal tree’s branches keep trembling almost ominously under the hazy sky, the sun giving its daily goodbye from behind the run-down buildings. I slide my gloved hand through my wavy reddish-brown locks, trying to tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear. It’s not easy. I might let it grow more.

I shift in the car seat and check myself in the rearview mirror. My beard looks a bit feral now. It’s been months since I last touched it up. The hair has reached down my neck andover my cheek line. The nicknames my brothers like to call me pop into my head: Dumbledore, Cast Away, Big Lebowski. Maybe the time has come to shave it.

I grab my tumbler that reads fresh out of fucks and ducks from the cup holder and take a sip of whatever is inside as my eyes once again focus on the gray brick building on the opposite side and down the road.

“Serena, darling, read the heat signatures on the second floor again. Any change?” I ask my AI assistant. The mic on the black bracelet around my wrist allows me to talk to her, and the microchip inside my ear to hear her.

“Give me a moment,” she replies. The familiarity of hearing her sweet voice has the power to calm me down. “Still four heat signatures.”

Stakeouts are always a bore. I usually have one of my brothers to joke around with, but today, I don’t feel like my jesting-self. I need some peace and quiet, and what better place than this old, inconspicuous van while keeping an eye on my target, which my brothers and I refer to as a donor. I’m looking forward to working on him—and when I say work, I mean make him pay…with blood. His blood. It might sound wrong according to our societal norms, but society-shmociety.

After what I and my six foster brothers endured when we were kids, I believe that wanting to purge pestilential evil from the world is a consequential side effect which can’t be denied.

Plus, it feels fucking good.

I was five when I was abducted and then experimented on for years—together with six other kids, my foster brothers, blood brothers, just annoying bros: Raph, Michael, Rague, Uri, Sari and Gabe. Until our foster mothers, Linda and Meg, saved us and tried to raise us to be respectable, self-sufficient individuals. On the surface, we are suitable by society’s standards. But if you look deeper, we are all really fucked up in one way or another.

I always thought, though, that all the pain we suffered gave us a purpose. And I’m going to fulfill it once again very soon. The donor I’m waiting for calls himself a hitman. But he’s just a sick fuck who enjoys torturing and killing his victims’ loved ones in front of them. I’m going to ask him a few questions very soon. I might use the bush hammer and some rusted nails to loosen his tongue. Or even better, those new shiny, pain-giver-looking pliers I bought.

“Two heat signatures are exiting the building.” Serena’s voice drags me out of my gory fantasies.

And there he is, the sick fuck, taking his last walk. He’s with another guy.

“Serena, use the pharmacy camera on the next block to get a facial recognition of the other man. And check if he has a criminal record.”

My AI uses a super-advanced facial recognition system which finds every recognizable image of the person it’s searching for on several databases through an algorithm I created.

“On it, Daddy.”

Daddy. Fucking Michael! If my bro Raph, Michael’s husband, wasn’t a psychopath ready to kill anyone who touches him, I’d have unleashed my tech terrorism on Michael months ago. But I have to settle for teasing and annoying him—both of them—to death. He told Serena that I was her father since I created her, and my virtual assistant accepted the suggestion and started calling me Daddy, which makes me cringe every single time.

Serena is indeed my baby—if I’d had one in my teens because that’s when I started working on her. She came to really exist on the four hundred and sixty-fifth trial test. Yes, I’m a persistent fucker. She is a knowledge AI, a powerful amalgamation of artificial intelligence and knowledge management principles. She can create novel approaches using existing trends and evolve and develop through thought reinforcement learning. In layman’s terms: she’s smart, intuitive, and efficient, with the ability to analyze vast amounts of different data in real time and uncover valuable insights that help me grandly with my family’s bloody side business.

“Marcus Gene Baker, thirty-five years old, younger brother of your donor, August Gene Baker. He has three arrest warrants for assault, battery charges, and four misdemeanors for breaking and entering. I have his home address, business address, and records for all known associates.” She’s also fucking fast.

“Where does he work?”

“He’s employed at Barnabas and Sal.”

“Why does that name sound familiar?” I slightly pull on my beard; it helps me think.

“It’s a bookie organization. Marcus Gene Baker has been working as a debt collector for Kyle Barnabas and Pete Salpinsky for five years and eleven days.”

It’s a pity this kind of gambling business is legal in Illinois, I could have gotten rid of Marcus as well through proper police channels.

“Hack his phone, please, and try to find out from old calls and texts where they’re going,” I tell her, getting out of the van and starting to slowly follow them. They’re so fucking loud, I can hear what they are saying.

“That bitch sucked me so good, I might go for seconds later. Fucking love young junkie sluts,” Marcus says.

“You were so damn loud, I thought you were dying in there! You can try to choke her with your tiny prick while I pound her pussy when we come back.” August lets out an eager, disgusting grunt.

“Fuck you, Auggie! We’ll both nail her, and then she’ll tell you who’s got the bigger dick. Me!”

I’m tempted to get rid of both of them now—an eye for an eye and all that. But I’m pretty sure my donor wouldn’t give a fuck if I unlive his own brother in front of him.

“Serena, after I secure the donor, make a couple of anonymous phone calls to the police telling them you heard a young woman screaming from the apartment the two brothers came from.”

“Will do.”

After a few more interminable minutes, I’m saved from listening to more sickening chatter by Serena. “The Baker brothers are going to a pub called Smith’s two blocks away from your current position. Reason unknown.”

Damn it. If they are meeting people there, I might need to wait longer. I wish I could grab the donor now, but there’s too many people around. “Something else?”

“Smith’s makes five-star spicy chicken wings. Should I add it to the restaurants you’d like to try?” she asks.

Serena, being an AI, goes after the correlation between two things, not the logic behind the facts. It makes me smile how incredibly complex she is, a proficient, self-correcting machine, and at the same time, still so innocently simple.

“Thank you, darling.”

The brothers stop in front of the Irish pub, and after another distasteful joke, they enter inside. Rock music and chatter float outside for a few seconds until the heavy wooden door closes behind them. I’m swallowed by silence and darkness in the small alley in front of the pub. I can clearly see the entrance from this position and rest my right shoulder on the brick wall.

“Serena, is there any camera you can hack into to keep an eye on the pub?”

“I have access to the one on the back exit and the one on the front. Do you want me to access the one in the alleyway on the side also?”

“Yes.” I grab my phone, and the three feeds appear on the screen after a few seconds. They are black and white and grainy, but clear enough to recognize my donor when the shithead decides to come out.

There are few people in the pub. I can see them smiling and drinking through the large windows.

“Do you want me to call for backup?” Serena asks me after a while.

“No, I can take them.” I pat my jacket, feeling the long knife strapped to my side and the brass knucks in the pocket.

But I still need to call Gabe since it’s his turn to help me discard the body. Oh joy! My brother is a robotic fucker. Stiff, humorless, emotionless. Unsurprisingly, he’s a lawyer.

He answers after the first ring. “What do you want?” His monotone voice is irksome.

“C-3PO, is this how you always answer your phone, or is it a special fuck-you reply just for me?”

Predictably, silence follows my teasing.

“It’s your turn.” I sigh.

“Are you sure?” I hear paper rustling on his side. Does he ever stop working? I’m pretty confident his phone has fossilized to his hand.

“Yes. Ariel did it last time.”

“Ariel?” he absently asks.

“Uri.” Uriel, our brother’s full name sounds like Ariel, the Disney sea chick, and it’s hilarious. But of course, I get nothing from Gabe. “Fuck, remind me to remove the John Hancock antenna out of your ass later,” I taunt him.

“Who’s the donor?” he asks. We can talk freely on our phones, I cyclically secure all our lines.

“August Gene Baker, a hitman who enjoys killing his victims’ families, partners, and friends in front of them before giving them the same treatment.”

I hear the grinding of teeth, the only sign that Gabe has a heart—a very tiny, barely-beating one.

“Where are you?”

“I’ll send you my position. I’m waiting for the donor to leave a pub,” I reply.

“A pub? How many is he with?” Gabe continues.

“Don’t know. Entered with his brother, don’t have eyes on him.”

“Don’t do crazy you. I’m coming.”

Like his words would stop me. I snort. “Crazy me?”

“Yes.”

“What’re you talking about?” I might know what he’s talking about.

“Let’s see… You and that escaped bear at the Lincoln Park Zoo.” And there it is.

“They were starving her. I just gave her some nightly out-of-the-cage time.” I respect bears tremendously. I mean, they can look all cuddly and kill you at the same time.

“The Navy Pier stroll on top of the Ferris wheel,” Gabe keeps going.

“I needed a different point of view to clear my head.” And that stroll gave it to me; I nailed my donor…right in the head.

“Almost stabbing Uri three days ago…at Millennium Park!”

“Near Millennium Park. Nobody saw. And we had a bet, he was supposed to give me his shirt since he lost. He refused. A bet is sacred,” I retort with a scoff.

“The evidence is piling up, Rami. There’s recklessness, and there’s foolishness.” His toneless voice vexes me even more.

Fucker! I’m not unhinged. I’m a bit…impulsive. I can give him that. But I always plan ahead if there’s someone else involved. When it’s just me…well, who cares? Fuck, I hope the donor comes out with some friends, an uneven fight always makes me feel alive. Any kind of fight really. That and fucking.

“Serena texted you the van”s location and mine.”

“Got them. Be there in thirty.”

“Bring some puffs,” I tell him. My stomach is growling. But he just hangs up. Fucking cold! I won’t hold my breath for the puffs.

Ten minutes later, I’m about to say fuck itand drag the damn donor out by his neck when the door of the pub opens again and a fucking dream in denim-clad, thick legs comes out.

He looks like dessert. A dark chocolate soufflé with a molten hot lava core.

I can imagine all the smooth, inky skin over those powerful biceps and hard pecs, under the gray Henley he’s wearing. No jacket, like he radiates enough warmth as it is.

A bear. He’s a dark grizzly bear, slightly soft around his lower torso with a very, very promising bulge in the front of his jeans. He’s walking slowly but confidently, taking his time. Every step exudes a silent, dangerous dominance and an incredible toughness. My dick gives a half-hearted throb with each stride.

“Serena, who the fuck is that?” I clear my throat. “I mean, find out what you can about the grizzly man who just stepped out of the pub.”

“On it.”

I’m bulky and brawny, it’s not easy to find guys bigger than me. And I bet this specimen of a bear can show me new roads to climax city with those large hands and hopefully impressive dick. Mine twitches hot and heavy at the visual.

My dirty line of thought is shoved aside when the Baker brothers come out of Smith’s—and start following my grizzly. They are not subtle about it either.

The bear stops for three long seconds, seemingly lost into his thoughts, and without looking back he resumes his slow walk, turning into the alley near the pub.

My donor slides a hand under his jacket. My eyes catch a flash of metal from his gun barrel shining under the streetlamp before it’s swallowed by the thick darkness of the alley.

I move without thinking. My footsteps pick up speed. The black mouth of the alley is a few feet away. It’s a perfect place for an attack. Why did Grizzly walk in there? I’m pretty sure he knows they are following him.

I slow down when I reach the alleyway’s entrance and I am quickly cloaked in the gloom as well. I strain my eyes, needing a few seconds to adjust to the dim light coming from the pub’s side door. But I can hear Grizzly”s gravelly voice just fine.

“Keep following me, and it’ll end badly for you.” His warning is met with the brothers’ laughter and the pointing of the gun at his back.

Bear Man’s body suddenly gives a half spin and snatches the hitman’s wrist with his left hand. He squeezes so tightly that the gun falls to the ground with a noisy clatter. Then the unmistakable sound of bone breaking comes. August’s grunt seems to shake his brother out of his shock, lurching him toward Grizzly, his fist flying through the air. Grizzly takes a light step to the side, avoiding the punch, and without letting go of the other guy’s broken wrist, he brings his boot up hard into the man’s midsection, shoving him back toward me.

Fuck yeah. Love a man who can fight.

He lets out a cock-hardening, angry growl before gripping the hitman’s neck and slamming him face-first into the wall so hard, his skull makes a disturbing crack—music to my ears. August groans, his uninjured hand pressing against the unforgiving bricks in front of him.

Stepping in close, Grizzly demands alarmingly slowly, “Who are you?”

“Fuck you!” the hitman responds while his brother is still whining in the fetal position on the hard ground. Shouldn’t debt collectors be tough fuckers? What a joke!

My eyes focus back on my grizzly. He’s holding both the hitman’s wrists in one hand behind his back, and with the other he grabs his hair hard and smashes his face twice on the wall. The sudden arrival of two guys behind me halts my smile at the sight of the fresh red blood against the gray bricks.

“What the fuck! Marcus?” One of them recognizes the younger brother now kneeling a few feet from me.

“What’s going on?” the other one asks, looking from me to Grizzly.

That’s when his eyes fully fall on me for the first time. They meet mine for only a couple of seconds, but damn, it is like diving into a sea of rich, smooth coffee. It makes me want to lick my lips and put them to work around whatever he hides in those jeans, if only to discover what shade of dark brown those chestnut pools reach when in ecstasy.

Later.

I turn to the two newcomers and plaster a happy-creepy Joker smile on my face. “Would you help a guy with his daily training?”

They look at me with confused expressions. I hate when my quotes fall flat.

Using a good-natured tone, I ask them, “Oh sorry, are you here for a quickie? That spot looks quite cozy.” I point at the brightest place in the alley, enjoying the understanding and consequent anger filling the two guys’ eyes. Not angry enough, though.

“Don’t mind if I watch, right? I might have a twenty if you give a nice show.” I pat my pockets like I’m searching for money.

“I’m gonna crush your face, you deviant fag, and break all the bones in your body,” the guy on the left hisses at me, while the other hits his hand with his fist in a very lame, bully-like gesture that isn’t nearly as intimidating as he wants it to be.

“How about my dick? Too homophobic to even say the word?” I snort when both of them automatically glance at it. I might hear a derisive grunt come from Grizzly behind me.

Mmm, I think I have a possibility there. Wishful thinking? A guy can always dream.

“Darling, prioritize a background on these two fuckers, and please get the feed of this from the alley’s camera.” Need to check my moves when I get home later.

“Got it,” Serena promptly replies in my ear.

“Who the fuck are you talking to?” the blond guy on the right spits out.

“To the voice in my head. It would be rude not to answer back, don’t you think?”

“Crazy asshole!”

I slide my gloved fingers into my left pocket and through the metal knucks’ holes. My other hand grabs the knife handle from the side of my jacket, and the long blade appears between me and the two fuckers, quickly catching their attention.

“This crazy asshole is ready to fillet both of you.” I make a brief feint at them, smiling even bigger when they lurch excessively out of the reach of the blade, their fists balling up in fury. Faces turning even redder.

I swing the knife, forcing them back another step, then I twist it to grab it by the handle, blade against my skin, parallel to my forearm. I can almost feel the coldness and hardness of the metal pressing against my arm.

The adrenaline is doing its work, taking away the perpetual numbness blanketing my body. The slightly chilly spring air is suddenly enveloping me, and I welcome it with open arms—figuratively. Not going to be a punching bag for these idiots.

I’m aware of the weight of my coat across my shoulders, the press of my boots into the dirty ground, the heft of my cell in my jeans pocket, the hard texture of the brass knucks around my fist.

In a perfect Bruce Lee move, I invite them to bring it, moving two fingers toward myself. The right one lets out a Viking-like roar and throws a right hook at me. I manage to get out of the way and avoid his left fist as well, twisting my torso to one side then the other. I bend my knees, cock my left arm back, and then hit the guy’s solar plexus with the hard handle of my knife three times before hitting his chin with the brass knucks.

I register the warmth of his skin, the roughness of his stubble, and the heaviness of his jaw against my hand as his head snaps back. Perhaps I hear a crack of a tooth or two, but I don’t have time to savor it, because the other guy is quickly on me. I ward off his kick, and grabbing his leg, I spin him around and bring up my steel-toed boot against his back, making him crumble heavily onto the concrete.

That was easy. Damn it!

Serena starts the brief background of the two men, “You’re fighting against Douglas Shane, the blond, and John Steed, the brunet, both arrested four times for hate crimes, but released.” Not really surprised by the accusation or the release. Our justice system is mostly a joke. “They were incarcerated twice for harassment and coercion. Now both are on parole. They work together with Marcus Baker at Barnabas and Sal.”

Douglas tries to stand up, but I deliver a couple of forceful kicks to his side while John is still on his knees, shaking his head. My grizzly is where I left him, pinning the hitman to the wall. I can feel his eyes on me. Hot and steady. Observing.

I squat on top of Douglas, and gripping his blond, thinning, but surprisingly soft hair, I haul his head back. The metallic scent of blood fills the air. His nose is bleeding from the hit he took from the fall, and I bring down the handle of my knife on it just to make sure it’s really broken.

More red on his face equals more joy in my heart.

“You just had your ass kicked, Douglas, by—and the right term is—a real man. Congratulations!” I tell him with a ridiculing tone while looming on top of him.

“How do you know my…name?”

His elbow suddenly hits me in the ribs, and the pain? It’s so damn good. But knowing it was delivered by a scumbag like him? Takes away part of the enjoyment.

Keeping my position on top of him, I grab his arm and twist it roughly before shifting my knife and pressing it to his throat.

“I know many things about you. The rest… I can easily find out.” I push the blade to his neck, hearing him almost squick when it slightly cuts the skin. “One more assault, harassment, or weird look to any person, queer or not, and I’ll come back and finish you and your friend, John. Am I clear?”

“Y-yes,” he chokes out.

I can feel him trembling under me. I can smell his blood, almost taste it on my tongue. It’s, as always, exhilarating. Holding my prey captive awakens that old rush, that need to feel, that sense of freedom. I still don’t understand this part of myself. Even Meg, my renowned psychiatrist foster mother, has no real explanation.

The mind is a powerful and mysterious weapon. I stopped trying to decipher it and decided to just enjoy these full but brief moments of sensory completeness.

Removing the knife from his neck, I smash his head on the ground. I stand up and turn just in time to catch a punch to the cheek. He was so loud I could have avoided the blow, but I didn’t want to. The iron taste invades my mouth, making me smile like a loon at the younger Baker brother. I’m anticipating the fun I’ll soon experience at turning him to a pulp.

“Show me whatcha got, debt collector.”

He raises his brother’s gun at me; he must have picked it up from the ground.

“How do you…? Why the fuck are you smiling? Eager to meet your creator?” he barks. Gun does beat knife. But I still have my exceptional, intellectual genius.

“Just happy to see him.” I point at his left, pretending to look at someone. The moron automatically glances that way, and I take the opportunity to grab the pistol while hitting his wrist with the bottom of the knife’s handle, forcing him to let go.

While he’s still moaning, I click the safety on and toss the gun at Grizzly. He catches it midair and slides it in the back of his jeans. Never wished to be an inanimate object before. There’s a first time for everything.

“Guess my creator has to wait a little longer.” My statement earns a killer glower from Marcus.

“Fuuuuck! Easy to gloat with that fucking sword in your hand,” he spits out, cracking his neck. Didn’t he aim a pistol at me a few seconds ago?

“It still won’t be fair for you. But I feel generous today.” I sheathe the knife back in my leather coat.

A sudden breeze ruffles my hair and brushes my beard. I’m fucking invigorated, and not even the smell of piss and trash plaguing the alley can take me down from this high.

“Do your worst and let me look good.” I wink at him and tilt my head toward Bear Man. “Is he looking at me?” I stage whisper, and I can clearly hear a snort from my grizzly this time.

“Fucking scum! I’ll kill both of you,” he screams.

“You lasted less than a minute before with Grizzly there. Hmm. Wonder if you’re the same with your partners. Stamina is pretty important.”

My taunt works, and he charges at me, blinded by his stupid pride. His big shoulder hits me fully in the torso, making me back up a step. It hurts like a bitch, especially when he starts punching my sides. But damn, I’m here for it!

I lock my arm around his head and deliver a hard left to his nose with my brass knucks, followed by an elbow between his shoulders. As soon as his arms let go of me, I knee him in the balls, cringing at his agonized oomph. That kind of pain, I don’t want to feel.

I push him back and land a full, heavy-handed bitch slap on his cheek. His face snaps to the side, and I make it turn the other way with a mean hook to his temple, and finally another one to his stomach. He bumps right into Grizzly, who’s not happy about it. And he shows it with a quick, forceful thrust, headbutting him onto the ground once again.

We exchange another long stare. My bear man doesn’t look afraid of me. Taller and stronger, why would he be? He seems alert, wary and curious, perhaps.

His hair is shaved short, his nose important, and a light stubble covers his cheeks. His body is powerful perfection. He’s the living embodiment of desire, radiating sex vibes my way, creating an incredible, balls-deep attraction. I’m fucking ready to be played with like a damn puppet.

“Who are you?” he asks with that gruff voice, which I’ve already stored in my head for my slap and tickle times. Those large, juicy lips could easily send me to the moon and back.

The hitman’s body jerks against the wall.

“You’re strangling him too much. His lips are turning blue. That’s my pleasure you’re taking away.” Would you be interested in another kind of pleasure? I almost utter. But no, it’s too premature.

He frowns at me, but slightly releases the donor’s neck with his deliciously dark eyes still on me.

“You shouldn’t scowl so much. You’ll give yourself a headache.” I bite my lower lip in a flirty way, but then I remember my long beard covering my mouth. It really is time to give it a shave.

“I don’t ask twice,” he warns me. Cute…and hot as fuck.

Yes, sir.My dickstands to attention. “I’m just an interested fella. The shithead you’re holding? I’ll take him off your hands if you don’t mind. You have about five minutes to interrogate him. I’ll leave you the little brother, though.” I point at Marcus coughing with his face on the cement.

I expect more questions or a belligerent attitude. But instead, he turns to the hitman, spins him, and slowly slides him up the wall until they are face to face. My donor is not muscular, but is not scrawny either, and Bear Man easily lifts him almost three feet off the ground.

My grizzly has just turned up the heat inside of me to blazing.Can’t stop thinking if he can do the same thing to me…hand around my throat, biceps bulging while he makes me take it, bouncing on his cock.

Hell, the desire twists tightly inside my guts.

“Talk,” he growls in the donor’s face. But he gets no response.

“May I?” I ask him, taking a couple of slow steps his way with my hands up, palms showing.

His gaze flicks between my eyes and then slides down my body, surely measuring me. But what it really does is start a tingling sensation in my balls. His eyes stop on my fingerless gloves. People usually look at them, thinking they’re a fashion choice, and maybe they became that with time. It certainly grew into a collection. I can admit that they’ve turned into an ever-present part of my ensembles.

Grizzly moves slightly back, and despite the long foot between us, I can feel his warmth caressing my side. His rich, slightly smoky scent enters my nostrils, and damn, I wish I could just bathe in it.

I focus on the donor, and raising my hand, I flick my middle finger hard on his forehead—it always helps waking my brother, Uri, up when he falls asleep on the sofa inside the base. And it works like a charm this time as well.

The donor groans. His hand shoots to the fingers around his neck, and when his eyes focus on us, he weakly and with great effort hisses, “Fuck…you.”

“Get in the very long line, shithead,” I retort, taking a step back. “Four minutes and counting,” I address Grizzly.

He grits his teeth but turns to the guy. “I’m going to ask you three questions.” The donor has the foolish idea of trying to hit my bear”s face with a weak punch, which ends in a loud scream when the Grizzly breaks his other wrist.

I check the idiots on the ground to see if the painful screech has prompted them into action. Douglas has disappeared, must have run away, while the other two are still down.

I look at my bear again when he goes back to talking. “And you will give me the right answers, or you’ll sing like one of those kids in the church choir.” His big hand moves to the front of the donor’s pants and tightens on his…family jewels.

Old school, but effective. I’d have used my foot, although in his position, it’d have been kind of awkward.

That reminds me, I have my yoga lesson on Tuesday.

“Fuuuuck!” August tilts his head up and lets out a choked sound, both his arms limp at his sides.

“First question. Who are you?”

The donor tightens his lips, and Grizzly’s fingers do the same…south.

“Ahhhhh! Auggie Baker.”

Satan, he’s a disgrace to all the hitmen in the world.

Bear Man seems to ponder the donor’s words for a few seconds. “Baker. Do you know a Molly Baker?” His hand squeezes some more.

“Yeeeees!”

I take out my phone, and entering inside my database, I tap in the name of the woman, cross-referencing with August Gene Baker and his brother, Marcus, as well. Bingo!

“It’s his doofus brother’s wife.” I aim my thumb at Marcus.

Grizzly looks at the prone body on the ground. “I thought I saw that flat ass before. So, this is what? Some stupid revenge on the guy who was paid to take pictures of your brother’s cheating habits by his wife?”

“Ex-wife,” I correct him. Yep, the divorce was final three months ago.

“Ex-wife,” Grizzly surprisingly repeats, turning his curious eyes on me and then my phone.

I puff out my chest like a peacock. Maybe I’m showboating a bit, but I fucking want him, and I’m still not sure if the feeling is reciprocated. What am I thinking? Of course it is.

“Gabe is a minute away,” Serena lets me know.

“You’re dead! Dead meat,” the hitmangrunts, smiling menacingly at Grizzly. My hacker senses start to tingle. I’m pretty sure he knows he’ll be the one doing the dying tonight, so what’s with the certainty filling his voice?

Then again, who wouldn’t want the person who’s turning their balls into dry raisins dead?

A black van stops right at the entrance of the alley. I see Gabe’s face peek through the open window. His five-hundred-dollar haircut and tailored black button-up shirt and suit jacket are such a contrast to the battered vehicle.

His gray eyes take in the situation: the two guys on the ground, my grizzly squeezing my donor’s nuts, and me standing with my arms crossed a couple of feet away.

“Who tried to fix your face?” he teases me with his flat voice, glancing at the bruise that is surely forming under my eye. The pain is slowly disappearing. Now that the fight is over, the numbness is taking control of my body again, but it will disappear as soon as I start taking care of my donor. The rush from torturing him will make me fully feel again.

“Idiot number two on the ground,” I reply.

“Who’s the big guy?” My foster brother looks at my bear.

“Grizzly, the…victim.”

“Grizzly?” Bear Man repeats, lifting a dark brow at me.

“Do you prefer Bear Man? Bears have a very high IQ on top of the superhuman physical strength,” I let him know.

“Doesn’t look like a victim to me, or a bear,” Gabe interjects. He’s staring at him a little too intensely. Either he wants to kill him or fuck him. Since my bro is supposedly asexual—being a robot and all—it must be the first one. I can’t let that happen, though. Not before discovering what he’s hiding inside those tight jeans.

“Time is up, Bear Man. Kindly release the shithead.” My lips turn up slightly, and I give him a relaxed expression, but my body is tensing, ready to fight if he doesn’t oblige. I almost wish he wouldn’t. Feeling all that raw power under my fingers would definitely keep my senses alive.

His deep gaze is on Gabe for a few seconds too long. Then he turns it to me, still no fear in his eyes, but inquisitiveness and a hint of interest—or that’s what I’m telling myself.

He suddenly lets go of the donor’s neck, and the guy crumbles to the ground like a bag of potatoes, wheezing and gasping. I lift my foot and stomp my sole on his face, making him go to sleep.

“Good choice. Thank you.” I give Bear Man a big smile, hoping he can see my white teeth through the beard, and proceed to haul the donor over my shoulder. I can detect a faint smell of alcohol coming out of him, but I barely feel his weight on me. My senses are almost gone.

I walk to the back of the van, and after opening the doors, I unceremoniously throw the donor inside. Gabe is waiting there with a tranquilizer, which he injects in the donor’s neck before going back to the driver’s seat.

I’m closing the doors when I feel Grizzly behind me.

“What do you want with him?” He glances at the donor’s body. He’s an inch from invading my personal space, and I wish I could smell his sweet, smoky scent with a hint of tobacco again.

“He…owes us something.” Information and samples of his DNA, and more if my researcher brother, Sari, says so.

“You aren’t going to tell me who you are, are you?”

I also love a perceptive man.

“Next time, perhaps.” I need to know more about my bear first. I’ll never put my family in danger.

“So sure about a next time?” he counters.

“Don’t you believe in fate?” I ask, moving to the passenger door.

He growls a no.

“How about coincidence?”

“If we meet again, it won’t be a coincidence.” That’s for sure because I’m going to make it happen.

“Einstein said, ‘coincidence is God’s way to remain anonymous.’”

“God.” He makes it sound more like a curse than a deity. Interesting.

“In what do you believe, then?” My hand hovers over the door handle as I find myself waiting for his answer.

“We create our own path.”

I hear a huff coming from inside the car. I must have imagined it; Gabe never reacts to anything.

“You mean, we freely choose one of the paths that fate shows us?” I fuck with him a bit.

“We decide where to go,” he clarifies with a steady, deep gaze before turning around and walking toward the bodies on the ground.

“Some of us are forced in a certain direction,” I retort. We were after what happened to us.

“There’s always a choice.” But is there? He stops near Marcus Baker, and after grabbing a fistful of his hair, he pulls him up, making him grunt.

I pocket the nuggets of information Grizzly offered me about himself. It’s the small, imperceptible details lying in the different shades of gray that shed some light on the essence of a person.

Information is the most powerful weapon. I should know, as a hacker and a fact addict—if that’s even a thing. I specifically look for evidence of evil in people, and with my cyber skills I can dig rabbit-hole deep. In Grizzly’s life as well.

“We were never here.” I put as much warning in my tone as I can.

“Nobody was.” He punches Marcus in the face and then steps on his hand, pressing his shoe hard to the ground.

Good. We understand each other.

I get inside the van but cannot resist looking at him one last time. The alley is poorly lit, but his eyes are still like a punch in the gut. They are solely focused on me. Giving me such a thrill.

It’s one of those things in life that can turn into a wild addiction.

“I have the background on the grizzly man,” Serena lets me know, but I’m too immersed in his stare to give her a reply.

Gabe starts the van, and whatever spell those black pools cast on me is broken. I salute my bear and don’t look in the rearview mirror as we drive away.

Although, I feel his dark gaze on me long after he’s disappeared from my sight.