Rescuing His Heart [Wolves of Desire 13] (The Lynn Hagen ManLove Collection) Read online

  Wolves of Desire 13

  Rescuing His Heart

  Sylvester woke in seedy motel with no recollection of how he got there. Worse, there is a dead body in the tub. He calls his brother to help him, and the two take off, ending up in a small town where they decide to lay low. But there plans go awry when they run into Xander. The stranger is determined to help Sylvester, even if Sylvester runs from him at every turn.

  Xander isn’t proud of his past. In fact, he feels as if he doesn’t deserve someone like Sylvester. But his wolf won’t let him walk away, especially when a demon shows up hell-bent on going after Xander’s mate. But that’s just the beginning of their problems.

  As the mystery of Sylvester’s memory loss unfolds, Xander falls hard for the little human, until the one man who could destroy it all resurfaces, determined to end Xander’s life.

  Genre: Alternative (M/M, Gay), Paranormal, Shape-shifter, Vampires/Werewolves

  Length: 31,964 words

  RESCUING HIS HEART

  Wolves of Desire 13

  Lynn Hagen

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  RESCUING HIS HEART

  Copyright © 2017 by Lynn Hagen

  ISBN: 978-1-64010-612-3

  First Publication: September 2017

  Cover design by Emma Nicole

  All art and logo copyright © 2017 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  If you find a SirenBookStrand e-book or print book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at

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  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lynn Hagen loves writing about the somewhat flawed, but lovable. She also loves a hero who can see past all the rough edges to find the shining diamond of a beautiful heart.

  You can find her on any given day curled up with her laptop and a cup of hot java, letting the next set of characters tell their story.

  For all titles by Lynn Hagen, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/lynn-hagen

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Landmarks

  Cover

  RESCUING HIS HEART

  Wolves of Desire 13

  LYNN HAGEN

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  Sylvester Ramsey jerked awake and looked around, groaning as his head pounded at the quick movement. What was he doing on a floor, and where the hell was he? Worse, Sylvester was completely naked. Had he gotten so wasted that he didn’t remember where he was?

  With a moan and protesting muscles, Sylvester pulled himself up from the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, glancing around. Judging by the cheap art on the wall, the standard desk, the sixties-looking blanket, and ratty carpet, he came to the conclusion he was in a motel room.

  And he was alone.

  The sun peeked through the thick curtains as Sylvester got up and looked around. He found one tennis shoe under the desk, the other in the closet, both shoes stuffed with his socks. His underwear was in one of the desk drawers. As he looked around for his shirt and pants, he noticed the untouched bed.

  What in the hell happened? Nothing made any sense. He was naked, but the bed didn’t look like he’d had sex on it or even slept in it. Why were his clothes strewn about? And where in the fuck were his pants?

  He slipped his underwear on and instantly felt better. He set his shoes and socks on the bed and wandered into the bathroom. Not only did he have to relieve himself, but he prayed the rest of his clothes were in there.

  He spotted his shirt and pants.

  And the dead body.

  “What the fuck!” Sylvester backpedaled so fast, he ran into the wall. He might’ve even peed a little as he stared at the milky-white gaze. And the blood. There was so much blood. He’d never seen a dead body before and he could have gone his entire life without seeing this one. The guy took up the entire tub, his head bent at a funny angle. His legs dangled over the side, as though he’d been pushed into it.

  But the hole at the center of his chest was what had Sylvester dropping to his knees and vomiting in the toilet. He flushed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sitting on his ass as he squeezed his eyes closed.

  “This can’t be happening.” Who was the guy and how had Sylvester ended up in the same room with him? How had Sylvester gotten to the room in the first place?

  He pushed to his feet and stared at his jeans and a T-shirt that had once been white, but was now covered in blood and lying next to the dead man. His jeans were tucked under the guy’s head, as though whoever killed John Doe wanted him comfortable.

  Sylvester slapped a hand over his mouth and shot out of the bathroom, trying to suck air into his lungs as he collapsed on the bed. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t handle looking at a dead body.

  Shit, he needed to call Sario. Sylvester needed to get out of here and get answers. He used the motel phone to call his brother. Thank God Sario answered.

  “Why didn’t you meet me last night?” Sario asked. “We were supposed to hang out.”

  “I need you.” Sylvester talked bullet-fast, telling Sario what he’d found in the bathroom.

  “What motel are you in?”

  Sylvester had no idea. He grabbed the pad of paper the motel provided and grimaced. Of all the places he had to be, it was the motel known as “Frank’s Skank.”

  That wasn’t really the name, but it might as well have been. It was a local pay-by-the-hour motel. Drug dealers paid for a room to chop up their drugs—or so Sylvester had heard since he didn’t mess with drugs—and hookers used it, too.

  Great. His life was going down the toilet in a sleazy motel. Maybe the motel put complimentary dead guys in all the rooms. Sylvester wanted to smack himself for that thought. He needed to calm down and think, but that was hard to do considering the situation.

  “I’m on my way,” Sario said. “Don’t move and don’t talk to anyone. And for fuck’s sake, don’t call the cops.”

  “Bring me clothes.” There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d put on his T-shirt and jeans, but he did need to get them so he wouldn’t leave any evidence behind.

  “Give me ten minutes.” Sario hung up. Sylvester was thankful he had a brother who always had his back. In truth, Sario was the biggest chicken he knew, but not when it came to his sibling. When it came to Sylvester, Sario always found a backbone.

  After replacing the phone on the cradle, Sylvester glanced aroun
d. He didn’t have any enemies he could think of, but this felt like a straight setup.

  He needed to wipe the place down. Using his underwear, he tackled the phone first, then went through the room, hitting every surface that could hold a print.

  He even flushed the toilet a few more times just to make sure his vomit was gone. Seeing the dead body again made him want to throw up, but he managed not to.

  “I don’t know who you are,” Sylvester said as he gazed at the floor, refusing to look at the carnage left in the tub, “but I didn’t do it…I think.” Since he couldn’t recall how he’d gotten there in the first place, Sylvester couldn’t be sure how true that claim was.

  But he wasn’t the type to kill anyone, especially a man three times his size. There wasn’t a chance in hell he would’ve been able to overpower the guy. And Sylvester was so antiviolent that he didn’t even kill bugs.

  No way could he have gouged such a deep hole in the stranger’s chest, either. If he had, first, where was the weapon he’d used? Second, why wasn’t he covered in blood himself?

  He nearly screamed when a knock sounded on the motel door. His nerves were wound so tight that he should have shattered.

  Taking in a deep and steady breath, he crept into the room, making sure his steps were as quiet as possible as he headed toward the window. He peeked past the thick curtain and exhaled a sigh of relief. Sario stood outside.

  Sylvester eased the door open wide enough for Sario to slip through before closing and locking it. He pressed his back to the wood as sweat gathered over his brows and upper lip.

  Sario tossed a backpack on the bed before he wandered to the bathroom. He gave a low whistle. “What the fuck did you kill him for?”

  “I didn’t kill him!” Sylvester grabbed the backpack and pulled out a pair of jeans and a button-down green shirt. He slid the clothes on and carried the bag to the bathroom. He’d have to retrieve his clothes from the dead guy.

  He didn’t want to go anywhere near the tub. Maybe he’d watched too many movies, but in his mind, if he got close enough, the dead guy’s eyes would pop open and he’d reach for Sylvester.

  “Grab my clothes,” he told Sario.

  “Hell no.” Sario backed away. “Do I look like Boo-Boo the Fool to you? I brought you some clothes, and I’ll drive you away from here, but you can’t pay me enough money to get any closer.”

  “Goddamn chicken.” Sylvester shoved the backpack at Sario. “Then hold this while I get the clothes. We can’t leave them behind.”

  “We need to wipe this room down, too.” Sario stayed just outside the bathroom door. “We don’t need a crime scene team finding your prints.”

  “I already did that.” Sylvester inched closer. “So make sure you don’t touch anything.”

  “You still need to lie low for a while,” Sario said. “Leo’s looking for you.”

  Sylvester whipped his head around as his pulse raced even faster. “Why is Leo looking for me?”

  “Can we talk about that in the car?” Sario asked as he waved a hand toward the tub. “Let’s get your clothes out of there first and haul ass from this dump.”

  Bile inched up Sylvester’s throat as he eased his way toward the tub. He tried not to look at those milky-white eyes, but his gaze was drawn to them.

  With the tips of his fingers, Sylvester grabbed his shirt and snatched it away from the dead guy’s feet, gagging as he waited for Sario to open the bag. “Hurry up. I’m gonna be sick.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Sario warned. “No way we can clean all of it up.”

  “We?” Sylvester stared incredulously at him. “There is no we. You’d be running from the room like a scared little bitch.”

  “Ain’t no shame in my game.” Sario shrugged. “I don’t do dead bodies or puke. You’re lucky I’m standing here at all.”

  Sylvester tucked the bloody shirt into the bag before turning back to the corpse. He bunched his hands at his sides as he swallowed. Getting his jeans would bring him closer to the stranger’s face than he wanted to be, but he couldn’t leave them behind.

  The sound of a distant siren made Sylvester jump. What if the cops were heading to this room? Since Sylvester had no memory of last night, or how the dead guy ended up in the tub, someone could be trying to frame him for this crime. What if the killer had called the police?

  Grimacing, Sylvester moved faster, reaching behind the dead guy’s head for his jeans. He tugged on the material, but it didn’t slide easily away. They were stuck.

  “Will you come on?” Sario said in a panicked voice. “I want to get out of here.”

  “They’re stuck on something.” Sylvester pulled again. His hand hit the faucet and water poured from the spout.

  “What the fuck are you doing, giving him a bath?” Sario screeched.

  Sylvester quickly cut the water off. “It was an accident.”

  He tugged harder, and the jeans finally came free. The dead guy’s head rolled and so did Sylvester’s stomach. He raced from the bathroom and shoved the jeans in the bag.

  They hurried to the door, and Sario used the hem of his shirt to wipe the knob, then grabbed it before he opened the door. They rushed out and Sario closed the door with his shirt before they climbed into the beat-up blue Camaro.

  Sario started his car. It backfired and the engine whined as he reversed from the parking space and pulled onto the main road. He cut the corner so fast that he nearly ran into another car. The other driver honked and Sylvester swore he saw the guy flip them off.

  “Slow down.” Sylvester tossed the backpack into the backseat. “We don’t need the cops pulling us over.”

  “Sorry.” Sario slowed to the speed limit. “I just wanted to get the hell out of there.”

  “Now tell me why Leo is looking for me.” Sylvester glanced over his shoulder to make sure no cop car was following them. His heartbeat still hadn’t slowed down, and he was still sweating like crazy. He couldn’t get the image of the dead guy out of his head, and unanswered questions kept chasing around his mind.

  “Better question,” Sario said as he turned down a side street, “is how you ended up in a motel with a dead guy.”

  “I don’t know.” Sylvester slouched in his seat, rubbing the heel of his hand against his right eye. “I’ve been trying to figure that out. I don’t even know how I ended up in that room.”

  “What’s the last thing you do remember?”

  “I was at Tate’s party.”

  “Why would you go to Tate’s house?” Sario damn near shouted the question. “You’re lucky it wasn’t you who ended up in that tub. Tate is a piece-of-shit killer, Sylvester. Have you lost your mind?”

  “Brad was there.”

  Sario groaned. “Your crush is gonna get you killed. Brad doesn’t even know you exist. You need to get over him and move on.”

  Sylvester had been pining after Brad for years. They’d gone to high school together, and Sylvester had fallen for him. What guy didn’t like a bad boy? He knew he shouldn’t have gone to Tate’s. Every time he stepped foot in the guy’s house, he was asking for trouble. Tate had already done time for armed robbery and murder, but stupid Sylvester had let his dick think for him.

  But Sario was right. Brad hadn’t even batted an eye at Sylvester. The tall, sexy blond had had women throwing themselves at him all night, and Brad had no problem feeling them up and making out with them right there in the living room of Tate’s house.

  “I remember leaving the party and heading home.”

  “You walked?”

  “Since I don’t own a car, yeah.”

  “Then what?”

  “I—” Sylvester shook his head. He’d left Tate’s, walked down the sidewalk, turned the corner, and his memory was gone after that. “I don’t know.”

  “Leo wanted to see you because he has a job for you.” Sario drove toward the highway. Sylvester had no clue where Sario was going.

  “No fucking way I’m working for Leo again. I’ve told him that a
thousand times. I don’t care if he’s our stepdad. He’s so crooked his breath comes out sideways.”

  Sario chuckled. “Good one. You know, because he’s a politician and they’re always crooked.”

  “It’s not funny if you explain the joke,” Sylvester protested. “Running errands for Leo is asking for prison time. I’d rather not be visited at night by a cellmate named Bubba.”

  Though Sylvester had spent one night in the slammer after he’d delivered a package for Leo and had walked right into a drug bust. Leo had gotten him out and the charges dropped, but that was beside the point. Sylvester wasn’t built for the criminal life.

  Sario burst out laughing. He punched Sylvester in his upper arm. “Or get violated by a prison guard?”

  “I’m not that hard up.” Sylvester furrowed his brows when Sario drove onto the highway. “Where exactly are we going?”

  “Fuck if I know, but we can’t stay in the city. We need to get as far away as we can until the heat dies down.”

  “There isn’t any heat yet,” Sylvester pointed out. But Sario was right, again. If Sylvester went home, he’d have to duck and dodge Leo, and Sylvester wasn’t in the mood for that, not when he was sitting there racking his brain trying to put the pieces of last night together.

  His stepdad was on some kind of committee for the city. Sylvester wasn’t sure which one. He never listened to Leo when the guy talked. He just knew Leo was as crooked as they came and had his hand in a lot of illegal pots. Worse, whenever Sylvester was at home, he felt deeply depressed. The house was beautiful, but it felt more like a tomb than a home. That was why he and Sario spent most of their time hanging in the streets.

  They drove in silence for what felt like forever until Sario pointed to a sign. “We’ll get off here. I’m tired of driving, I’m hungry, and I have to piss.”

  “Plus your car is making some weird noise,” Sylvester pointed out.

  Sario snorted. “It always makes weird noises.”

  He exited the highway and drove down a long stretch of road. Sylvester spotted a sign welcoming them to Brac Village. He prayed they’d driven far enough to escape Leo and the cops. Sylvester was pretty sure he’d gotten rid of all evidence that he’d been in the motel room, but—his heart thundered as he jerked sideways, gaping at Sario.