Hidden Passions (Hidden, #7)(43)

"Mm." Tony pulled two chairs from the card table, knocking the dust off their wooden seats. He set them to either side of his chosen watching post.

As gingerly as if the chair might bite, Chris lowered himself to one. "You're wondering why I didn't tell my crew I owned this place."

Tony smiled, the curve of his lips transforming his features to true beauty. "I'm wondering how you kept it secret. They seem like a nosy bunch."

"I guess I'm good at keeping secrets."

"I guess you are." Tony's smile still crinkled his eyes, but their expression had gone sad. "You crew really is a bit macho."

"Sorry about that."

Tony shrugged. "It is what it is."

Chris had leaned closer without thinking. When his and Tony's gazes flicked together, the skin of Chris's face grew hot. Other things too. Things that had a hard time relaxing around this wolf. Before he got into trouble, Chris leaned back and looked away.

"I have a confession," Tony said.

That brought Chris's attention back to him. Tony wet his lips. Chris didn't think he was being deliberately seductive, though his cock couldn't help stirring in response. The wooden chair creaked as Tony's weight shifted. "I think I know how you got this pool hall."

Chris's brows went up. "You do?"

"I--" Tony grimaced. "I looked you up on Oogle. Elfyunk used to be Naegel clan territory. I'm guessing this was the settlement for what Mark Naegel did to your family."

A cold wave washed through him at the name . . . and at Tony uttering it. "You know about that."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snooped. I'm not even sure why the search engine spit it out. I know your last name was different then."

Chris looked down at his hands. They were dangling between his knees: not clenched, not angry, almost relaxed in fact. He lifted his eyes to Tony's. The wolf was watching him intently. "It doesn't matter. You of all people seem to see me as I am. Going through a tragedy like that changes you forever, but it's never everything you are."

Tony reached over to squeeze his knee. Despite the topic, the nerves in Chris's leg tingled deliciously. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"What, now?"

Tony smiled crookedly. "I am a wolf. My big ears can multi-task. Naegel had Tomcat Syndrome, didn't he?"

"Yes," Chris said, weirdly relieved to be nudged into the tale. He rubbed his right eyebrow and decided. "Mark really liked my mom. She was pretty and sassy and a bit of a party girl. She tried to encourage us to like him and vice versa, but it never took. Since it's not that weird for a single mother's boyfriend to be more interested in her than her children, we didn't see it as a sign. We were the offspring of other men. He wasn't invested.

"One night, Eddie--my youngest brother--was in a play at school, and she wouldn't skip it to go out with him. Mark snapped. It's a genetic thing, doctors say. Mostly anyway. My mom tried to stop him from attacking. Tigresses are strong, but he was a big guy. He grabbed Eddie and Justin by their legs and swung them like they were toys. He bashed their heads into the walls and floor until they couldn't heal the injuries anymore. He swung them and swung them until they were dead."


Chris pressed one fist to his chest where his lungs had gone tight. The nightmare felt very close, the knowledge of how determined a person had to be to kill supe kids.

"You saw it happen?" Tony breathed.

Chris shook his head, his vision blurred by tears he couldn't force back. "I was out with a bunch of friends. We were . . . robbing a convenience store. I was seventeen and big for my age. If I'd been there, I could have stopped him."

"You don't know that," Tony said softly.

"I do." He dragged his forearm across his eyes. "I'd clashed with cats his size before. God knows I had practice fighting. I knew my nature was dominant. I could have beaten him. My brothers were six and nine. They'd have taken a while to die. They'd have had time to be terrified. I could have saved them. My mom as well, chances are. She never got over her guilt at letting Mark into our lives. She committed suicide."

This information didn't surprise Tony. "So now you save strangers. That's why you became a fireman."

Chris pulled his hands down the wetness on his cheeks, stubble rasping on his palms. He let out a shaky breath. "That's why. I'd probably have been a hooligan otherwise."

Tony sagged back in his chair, long legs stretching out until his tatty running shoes knocked Chris's. "That's a hell of a turning point."

"Yeah," Chris said. He didn't move his feet away. He liked the contact with Tony's.

"You're a tough mother-effer," Tony observed. "Most people would have curled up in a ball after that."

Chris didn't feel tough. He'd done what his conscience demanded, what he'd had to so he could live with himself. Unexpectedly, a little grin broke through his dark feelings. "Fortunately, I like being a fireman."

Tony snorted. "If you'd stayed a hoodlum, I could have arrested you."

That idea had a certain entertainment value--possibly too much of one. Chris shook it out of his head.

"So . . ." he said, feeling a need to let the subject go. "When your brother turned up again, did you see the dragons?"