BlackMoonRising

Melody
Lane

Steve enjoys his day job as a
shapeshifting bounty hunter—but his personal life is a mess. Nightmares of his
father’s death and fantasies of a lost love torment him each night. Until he
responds to a bail bondsman’s request to pick up a bail jumper and gets the
shock of his life—the presumed murderer is Herman, his long-lost love.

Muscular firefighter Herman never
expected to see the man he shared unbelievably hot chemistry with ever again.
After all, he’d ditched their relationship and his lifestyle for a chance to
reconcile with his estranged father. Could Steve possibly forgive that?

When the Merlotti crime family—all
vicious, remorseless werewolves—get a sniff of Herman, the situation becomes
desperate. What do they know about Lawrence Fleming’s death, and can Steve save
the only man he’s ever loved before it’s too late?

A Romantica
® GBLT
male/male paranormal erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

“No shots were fired, Mrs. Fleming. Apologies for anything
we did that may have alarmed you. Beck Recovery is a fugitive recapture firm
and as the owner I give you my word that we are trained and licensed
professionals. Your safety is of utmost importance to us. We received a tip
that Herman was here and every tip must be taken seriously.” Joni Beck spoke
softly. “Don’t think I’ve heard that name in a long time, especially on a young
man.”

“He was named after Herman Melville, the author of
Moby
Dick
.” Barbara Fleming dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Lawrence obsessed
about anything related to that damned book. Naming his only child Herman
confirmed how important it was to him.”

As Steve listened to his mother talk to Mrs. Fleming, he
took in all the sights and smells around him, fiddling with the silver earring
in his right ear. Only a few moments earlier he, his mother and brother Eric
had surrounded the house, prepared to take the bail jumper Herman Fleming into
custody if he were to be found on the premises.

His nose twitched. The impeccably dressed middle-aged woman
sitting across from them had sprayed perfume on herself within the last hour.
Too strong. He preferred the natural scent of a person. As the sudden aroma of
meat cooking hit his nostrils, he turned his head toward what might be the
direction of the kitchen. Definitely pot roast. And definitely too overcooked
for his tastes.

He glanced around the room, filled with the finest leather
furniture, marble end tables and other creature comforts of the rich, and his
eyes settled on a picture shoved into a corner bookcase. He rose from his seat
and picked it up. The man standing in the picture couldn’t be any hotter. That
certainly wasn’t the recently deceased Lawrence Fleming, a man bound to his
wheelchair for most of his waking hours due to an above-the-knee amputation
from a lifetime of diabetes.

Could this picture possibly be Herman? What struck him first
was the sexy-as-hell face. A perfect smile with full, sensuous lips he’d love
to part with his tongue and finish with his cock. Sunglasses hid his eyes. Too
bad. He loved to look into them. You could see a person’s intentions there.
That was why animals always looked to the eyes first. Something about this man
seemed familiar though. He stared at the lips and let out a deep breath.

The man reminded Steve of the guy he had fallen in love with
at the gym in Boystown years ago. One of his continual dreams. What had started
out as months of anonymous sex in the shower and private rooms had turned into
something else. Something beautiful.

Steve felt pain grip his heart as he thought back to those
happy days. What that man’s lips did to him was mind-blowing. That electrifying
mouth would kiss Steve deep and hungry, with each twist of his tongue making
Steve’s rod grow harder. He had never been so turned on by kissing before than
with that lover.

After a few encounters, the man could sense the perfect time
to move to Steve’s dick. He’d close in over the head and let it slowly slide in
and out of his mouth, while Steve moaned with crazy desire as he watched. Once
Steve couldn’t take it anymore, the man would suck hard as Steve came and milk
every drop with his gorgeous mouth as if it were the sweetest nectar on earth.

Remembering those days made Steve’s shaft hard right now. He’d
never had a relationship like that one. It had definitely messed up his mind
when it abruptly ended. His brain felt twisted like a corkscrew every time he
reminisced. All he wanted was to have a healthy, happy relationship and he
wondered if it would ever happen for him.

“I just want Herman caught.“ Barbara shuddered. “I can’t
believe he even made bail after sticking that awful knife into his father’s
back. Please turn over that disgusting picture. I can’t believe I missed
throwing it out.”

Steve jolted back into reality and turned over the picture
as requested. “I know you’re upset, Mrs. Fleming, but you have to remember that
all suspects are innocent until proven guilty in a court of law.”

“He cleaned out the safe too. Money, bonds, jewelry.”
Barbara frowned. “What about that?”

“Let me help you understand the law better,” offered Steve’s
brother Eric, another important member of Beck Recovery. “When Herman’s
fingerprints were found on the weapon, the charge was attempted murder because
your husband was still alive. I know he was already in bad shape when he
reached the hospital and went to surgery. Herman received bail because he
didn’t have a criminal record and wasn’t deemed a flight risk. Once he
vanished, we received the case from the bondsman with the charge changed to
unlawful flight to avoid prosecution for attempted murder and robbery. That has
changed again since your husband passed away in the hospital.”

Barbara nodded. “I understand but it doesn’t make me any
happier about this situation.”

Steve glanced up at the wall that held knives and implements
of all sizes. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Those harpoons were for whales. The knives were the other
tools used to process the whale afterward. There are boarding, mincing and
leaning knives up there. Goes along with that crazy
Moby Dick
obsession
Lawrence had. He was killed by what’s called a leaning knife, which is similar
to a butcher knife. Listen to me talk.” Barbara shook her head. ”I’ve learned
so much about them over the years I can tell which is which.” She dabbed her
eyes with a tissue.

Eric whistled. “Quite a collection.”

“Does Herman have any friends in the area or out of state
that we can contact?” Joni asked.

“I really have no idea.” Barbara shrugged. “Herman and I
aren’t close. He certainly would have never confided in me. Not even for one
moment.”

Joni stood from the couch. “Thanks again for talking to me
and my sons. Our warrant is active and Beck Recovery will continue searching
for him. If you should hear any word about where he might be, contact the
police right away.”

“Oh, you can be sure of that.” Barbara’s mouth turned down.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Steve added quietly.

The Beck family walked out of the house and surveyed their
plush surroundings. Impeccable lawns and stately homes. Murders might happen in
classy places every day of the week. Just not often in the affluent suburbs of
the North Shore.

“I didn’t tell her that Herman’s cell phone had a call
placed to a number in Boystown right here in Chicago immediately after he made
bail.” Joni opened the car doors and they got in. Eric in the front with his
mom, Steve in the back. “Nothing since, so he’s wise not to be using it now.
The name that goes with the phone number is Mike Sullivan but the address for
Mike is listed as a bakery on Halsted.”

“So what’s the plan?” Steve asked.

“There are other leads to follow too,” Joni said. “He has a
lot of firefighter friends that we need to speak with.”

“I’ve always heard they’re a tight community,” muttered
Eric. “And closed-mouth about each other.”

Joni let out a breath. “I can’t help but feel the Boystown
call was significant. I’ve been in the business long enough to trust my gut.”
She glanced at Steve in the rear-view mirror. “You still hang out there?”

Steve shrugged. “From time to time. Not like I used to but
I’ll offer to go.” He ran his fingers through his short blond hair.

“Even though you’re trying, you don’t look like me with that
blond hair,” teased Eric. “It doesn’t look good on you. Doesn’t match your
coloring.”

“Thanks, Eric. Always appreciate your support.” Steve had
needed a change in his life and his short blond hair made him look and feel
like a different person.

His older brother glanced at Steve in the back seat. “Herman
was attractive. I’ll give you that.”

Steve undid the Velcro from his bulletproof vest and threw
the vest on the seat. “Yep.” His brother was close to admitting he was gay, but
still holding back. Steve understood. It had taken him a while too.

“I wonder if Herman really did it,” Eric mused.

“We’ve done a background check and he’s never been in
trouble but he was caught in the act with the whale knife,” said Joni.

“Only according to the stepmother.” Eric shrugged. “You know
things aren’t always like they seem. Like when Dad was killed. Steve saw the
werewolf—he was right there. But the police insisted it wasn’t anything
supernatural. He was ripped apart by a knife from a gang member instead.”

Steve glared at his brother. “Why the hell are you bringing
that up? You know I still have nightmares.”

“Okay, you two,” grumbled Joni. “It’s better we don’t talk
about that night. That was fifteen years ago. Paranormals weren’t even out in
society yet. Everyone was hidden, whether they were a shifter, were or vamp.”

“Yeah, just like gays.” Steve frowned. “They were forced to
hide in the closet too.”

Steve crossed his arms in anger and his face flushed. When
his brother became uncomfortable he liked to put Steve on the spot. The pain
crept in again after all these years, just like it always did. Therapy had helped
some but it was easy to remember that life had seemed perfect until that
fateful night.

His tough shapeshifting father was killed protecting
twelve-year-old Steve, who didn’t even know he was a shapeshifter yet. He was
in his human form and they were walking home after getting off a city bus. His
killer was never caught. And although the family and police thought it might be
related to a case they had worked on in the past, there wasn’t enough evidence
to pursue anyone in particular. A dead-end in more ways than one. Too bad Steve
had been so young. If he had been older, perhaps he would have been more
observant about clues.

He stared out the window at the darkening sky and tried to
let his mind go blank. Sometimes it helped him to relax when he was upset.

* * * * *

Steve covered his hair with a cap and walked the six blocks
from the bus to the bakery and cafe that had been called from Herman’s cell
phone. It looked like a hip place when he looked through the windows. Bright
pastry and cupcake paintings in hot pink, purple and lime-green adorned the
walls. A young crowd sat at the tables and conversed while they ate. Chefs in
white hats and black aprons worked their magic in a glass-walled kitchen.

He looked through the selection of cookies and settled on one.
The oatmeal with a touch of banana and dried cranberry.

“May I help you?” asked a young woman with tattooed arms and
short black hair.

“That one right there.” Steve smiled and pointed.

The woman took the cookie out of the case with a napkin and
placed it in a small paper bag. “Anything else?”

“Nope.” He couldn’t help but stick his nose inside the bag
and sniff the cookie. It smelled sweet, like a freshly peeled banana, and his
mouth watered.

“That’s two-fifty.”

Steve paid the girl. “Is Mike working tonight?”

“Yeah. He’s in the back.”

“Do you know how late he’ll be?”

The women looked at a dry-erase board on the wall to her
right. “Looks like ’til nine. Fifteen minutes. Probably hanging up his chef’s
cap right about now.” She squinted. “You want me to get him?”

“Oh no. I’ll catch up with him later.” Steve started to
leave and then turned back. “I haven’t seen him in a long time. Did he get
those curls cut off?”

“Curls?” The young woman rolled her eyes. “I’ve never known
him to have curls. If my hair were as straight as his, I wouldn’t need any hair
products or a flatiron. He has new glasses too. Huge brown frames from Europe.”
She smiled. “They’re nice.”

Steve laughed. “Thanks. Have a good evening.” He started
eating the cookie as soon as he left. Certainly not the best dinner but all he
could do for now. At least it was some nourishment to keep his stomach from
growling. Two storefronts down from the bakery would be as far as he would
venture. He didn’t want to miss Mike.

It didn’t take long. He wasn’t hard to recognize with his
straight brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and dark-framed glasses. Steve
turned toward the storefront until Mike passed by and then followed him.

He walked down the main well-lit avenue for blocks before
going down a darkened side street full of row houses and old apartment
buildings. He turned up the walkway to the second apartment building and pulled
keys from his front pocket. After opening the door, he disappeared in a flash.

Steve stood to the side of the building away from the road.
He tried to see which apartment might be Mike’s within these five stories. No
new lights went on within the next few minutes from what he could tell. Once he
saw the fire escape, his decision was made.
Time for a little shapeshifting
.

He looked closely at the dark building next door and across
the street. There appeared to be nothing going on in the small front yards.
Moving in between the apartment and the building next door, he sat his
messenger bag on the ground. As he peered through a first-floor window, there
was no indication that anyone was home. No lights in the room, the hallway or
beyond. He quickly undressed and placed his clothes inside the top of his bag,
pushing it under a bush with his foot.

Steve was a shapeshifting member of the domestic dog family.
All he had to do was concentrate and visualize what type of pooch he wanted to
be and things happened quickly. It always started with his eyes. This time they
became almond-shaped and dark-brown with a bright and cheerful expression.

Falling to the ground on all fours, he shifted quickly,
muscles and bones changing throughout his body. His body shrank, bones popped
and white fur with tan markings appeared. The first sound Steve uttered was a
high-pitched, yappy bark that needed to be reined in immediately, as he now
carried the temperament and abilities of the dog he wanted to be. In this case
he padded on four paws as an energetic Jack Russell Terrier.