Loving Styles [Brac Village 12] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (11 page)

He forgot to tell his mate that he’d never ridden on a bike before. That might have been a wise thing to bring up, but they were on the road now. He just held on tight, resting his chin on his mate’s shoulder.

The freedom of riding a bike was close to the same feeling Robby had when he shifted and went for a run. He loved feeling the wind blowing through his hair and inhaling Styles’s earthy scent. He knew he was addicted to riding now. Robby would just have to learn to ride a motorcycle, or maybe he wouldn’t just so he could sit behind his mate and hold him close.

They pulled down an access road that was riddled with potholes and debris. Styles maneuvered carefully, Robby holding on for dear life. The guy wasn’t driving fast, but he didn’t want to get knocked off. Robby was being shaken up, his entire body bobbing around.

“Could you have picked a more messed-up road?”

His mate didn’t say anything. They just drove deeper into the woods until Robby saw what looked like a small shack. Trees were close to the shack, making it seem intimate and cozy. There was so much green that Robby’s wolf was whimpering to get free and go for a run. He calmed the beast with a promise that they would run later. For now he needed to find out why Styles had chosen this place.

“Where are we?” he asked as he climbed from the back of the bike, stepping right into one of the potholes. Thank goodness it hadn’t rained or his foot would have been drenched. But he did almost lose his balance. He gripped Styles’s leather jacket, recapturing his steadiness.

“Some place I like to go to once in a while.”

The statement had Robby scrutinizing the small structure closer. He tried to imagine Styles sitting out here trying to be one with nature. He knew his mate was coyote, but he just couldn’t imagine the man out here running around, finding peace.

“I hid the envelope.” Robby got straight to the point. “I don’t know what’s in it, but apparently it’s enough for someone to come after me.”

“How long have you had it?” Styles asked as he approached the shack and opened the door. There was one window that Robby could see and it looked like it had decades of grime smeared all over it. The wood looked warped and in need of repair, but it held as Styles swung the door open.

“A little over a week.” Robby trailed behind Styles, wanting to see what was inside. The closed-up smell hit him first. No one had been here in a while. Dust floated around in the little shards of sun that managed to penetrate this deep in the forest. When he stepped fully inside, the only thing in the one room place was a cot, a small table, and a chair. There was also a very small potbelly stove that stood in the middle of the hovel.

Since it was midsummer, Robby knew Styles wouldn’t be lighting it. His mate dusted off the chair and then waved for Robby to take a seat. “I own some of this land. Since I didn’t ask Maverick for a business loan, he gave me rights to his little shack and twenty acres. He said something about head time.” Styles grumbled the last part.

“That was really nice of him,” Robby said conversationally. “This seems like a nice area.”

Styles shrugged. “I was thinking of tearing this down and building a small cottage. The place is pretty secluded and there is plenty of land to run.” The man grimaced and he knew the guy was thinking about Robby’s wolf. Sooner or later Styles was going to have to deal with Robby’s beast. But for right now, he was opting for later. They had to work on them first.

“Would I be invited to live out here with you?” Robby had to ask. Just because they were mated now didn’t mean that Styles was going to pronounce to the world that he had claimed a wolf. The man seemed to have a hard time accepting that still. He accepted Robby, but his wolf was a whole other kettle of fish.

“Of course,” Styles said without hesitation, making Robby’s heart lighter. “Would you really want to live out here? It’s pretty damn far from town.”

Robby wiggled his brows playfully, trying his best to ease the tension lines on Styles’s face. “Then I’ll have my secluded spot where the FBI won’t find you.”

He finally took a seat in the chair and started imagining what kind of cottage they should build. Whatever they came up with, Robby was going to insist that they have a huge walk-in shower like Styles had at the Manchester place.

Robby hadn’t wanted to get out of the damn thing last night.

“Why?” Styles asked as he pressed his back into one of the walls and shoved his hands in his front pockets.

Robby was confused. “Why what?”

The man looked like he was mulling things over, his dark-brown brows drawn down as he chewed on the side of his lip. His eyes darted over to Robby and then he lifted his head. “Why did you come after me? Why did you keep pushing after I went apeshit in the bakery?”

Ah, the guy wanted to know why Robby cared so much without directly asking the question. The shifters Styles lived with were probably good friends, but outside their little group, had anyone extended a caring hand toward this man? If not, that was a damn shame. Robby knew deep down that Styles was a good guy. He had just been fucked over royally by life. “Because I wasn’t giving up on my mate. The odds were already stacked against me, but I’m not a quitter. Things that should tear us apart are only going to make us stronger.” It was the honest truth. “You deserve a shot at happiness, Styles. Your happily ever after, if you will.”

Styles scowled at Robby. “This isn’t a fairy tale.”

Robby’s heart hurt for Styles. The man just didn’t see himself as someone a wolf could truly love. “It could be.” He stood, walking over to his mate and cupping Styles’s face. “We could make it our very own fairy tale. All you have to do is let go of the pain and hate. Just let me in and shed your coat of anger.”

“It isn’t that easy.”

“Yes”—Robby ran this thumb over Styles’s bottom lip—“it is. You are staring down at your mate right now. We are going to be together for a
very
long time. Will you ever trust me fully, Styles? Will you ever let go of enough hate to love me?”

Styles didn’t answer him. The man dipped his head and pressed his lips against Robby’s, fighting with his tongue to get Robby to respond. He knew in the shadow of the room that this was the only answer he was going to get.

His mate wasn’t ready to let go, ready to love him. He accepted Robby as his mate, but that’s as far as it would go right now. A piece of him died right there in the dust-covered room as he finally opened his mouth and let Styles have his way. There was no use fighting with the guy. At least the man hadn’t lied to him. That was a very small comfort in regards to the big picture.

Loving Styles was heartbreaking, but Robby knew he wasn’t going to give up. Styles needed someone who would continue to push, continue to break down his walls until none were standing.

Styles dropped Robby off at the bakery. He wasn’t even sure why he had taken the man out to the small shack. It was a place he used when he needed to think, needed to get away. He had never shared it with anyone before.

He had been a coward when his mate had asked him a simple question that didn’t have a simple answer. He may not have had a ready answer, but he could have said
something
instead of trying to kiss his mate into forgetfulness.

Robby hadn’t asked him anything after the kiss. He could see the quiet acceptance in the man’s hazel eyes and it killed a part of Styles to know the emotional wreck he was making of things. But he wasn’t going to lie to Robby just to appease the man.

“Got a job for you in the back,” Dagon Santiago said as soon as Styles walked through the door. “Guy wants it fixed by closing. I told him no problem.”

Instead of his usual flippant reply, Styles just gave a nod as he clocked back in and grabbed the repair order. The bike belonged to a guy named Stephan Jackson. Styles remembered the guy. He was one of the firefighters that had started after that whack job Sampson had been arrested and sent to the nuthouse.

There were two others who had been hired as well, although Styles couldn’t remember their names. He remembered Stephan only because the man came in here often to buy accessories for his motorcycle.

Tossing the chart aside, Styles got to work. He pushed aside all thoughts of Robby and the fucked-up morning they had together. But the one thing he didn’t forget was that someone was after his mate.

He saw Dagon step into the shop from the corner of his eye. The man grabbed the chart that Styles had tossed aside, glancing over the work order. “Will you have this done by closing?”

Styles nodded. “It’s a simple repair job.”

When Dagon continued to watch him, Styles knew the man had come back here for another reason. He just wished the man would spit out what he had to say and leave him to his work. He hated being watched over. Finally, after a long moment, Styles set his tool down and glanced up. “Something I can help you with?”

Dagon rubbed his jaw and then pointed a finger at Styles. “There’s something different about you.”

It could be the fact that Styles wasn’t snapping at the man. “I’m wearing boxer briefs instead of going commando,” Styles replied. “Thank you for being so perceptive.”

“That’s what it is,” Dagon said, smiling as if happy he’d figured it out. “You aren’t your usual sourpuss self.”

Styles did not like being scrutinized. “Are you trying to invite me to a company picnic or something?” he snapped. “If not, get the fuck out of here so I can finish my work. And if you are inviting me, the answer is hell no.”

“You had me worried,” Dagon said and Styles could tell the guy was getting a kick out of this. “For a second there I thought you were actually changing into a tolerable man.”

“The bike will be done by quitting time.” Styles grabbed his tool and went back to work, totally ignoring the man standing a few feet away. He no longer wanted to take part in the conversation. But Dagon’s words had sown the seeds and now the thoughts were growing in Styles’s head.

Dagon’s reaction was the total opposite of what was normal. He should be worried if Styles was snapping, not the other way around. Styles grew agitated as he worked, gripping his tools tighter in his hand.

Nine damn days around his mate and Styles was starting to open his eyes to the possibilities around him. He didn’t like change, not in the least. Change had always brought something bad with it. Styles was sick of bad things.

But this was Robby. How could change be bad with a man who was good to him? Styles was pulled from thought when his cell phone rang. It was sitting over on the bench. He set the ratchet down and grabbed it, pressing it to his ear.

“Hey, Styles, it’s Kenway. Did you take my head baker again?”

“I dropped him off a little while ago. He should be there.” Styles remembered the man after Robby and his pulse quickened. “How long ago did he leave?”

“That’s just it,” Kenway said. “I didn’t even know he was gone. He usually tells me when he’s taking off with you.”

Styles gripped the phone tighter, his mind racing. “Was the door to the alley open?”

“Uh, yeah,” the man replied. “How did you know?”

Styles headed out of the bay door in the back, going straight for his bike when he heard something that sounded like a trash can was being knocked over. Turning in the direction of the noise, Styles walked up the side of the building, his eyes landing on a pair of feet. “I found him.” He tossed the phone down and dropped to his knees. Robby was lying there, holding his gut and staring up at Styles with fear.

“I tried to make it to you,” he whimpered. “He took me by surprise. I tried, Styles. I really did.”

“Calm down,” he said as he gently pulled Robby’s hands away from his stomach. Styles stopped the quick inhale of breath when he saw the man’s shirt saturated in blood. “Let’s get you inside. We’ll deal with everything else later.”

He scooped Robby from the ground with ease, carrying his mate back into the bike shop. He knew what Robby had to do. The man needed to shift in order to heal. “Dagon!” Styles shouted as he laid Robby on a cloth-covered sofa in the back. It was a ratty grey couch that had seen better days, but it was serving its purpose now.

Instead of Dagon answering the worried shout, Tryck appeared in the back part of the shop. Styles did not need this right now. He didn’t want to deal with Tryck Santiago and his smart-ass comments. In the mood Styles was in, he’d deck the guy.

“What happened to him?” Tryck looked enraged. His expression was murderous as he glanced from Robby to Styles.

“What, do you think I did this?” Styles stood, swinging around to face the man. “Do you think I stabbed him?”

It took a momentary pause for Tryck to answer him. Styles was ready to lay into the guy until the man spoke. “I don’t think you did this. You need to make him shift.” His eyes flashed back over to Robby.

There was a minute trace of anger in the man’s tone.

“I got this,” he said as he turned back around. “Tell Dagon that the bike won’t be ready on time.”

“Don’t worry about the bike,
mi hermano perdido
,” Tryck said. “Just take care of your mate.”

Brushing Robby’s hair aside, Styles patted his mate’s cheek lightly. The guy had passed out. That wasn’t good. If he lost too much blood before he shifted, Robby could die. “Hey, Robby,” he said as he continued to pat the man’s cheek. “Wake up.”