Walker [Grizzly Ridge 6] (The Lynn Hagen ManLove Collection) Read online

  Grizzly Ridge 6

  Walker

  Life isn’t easy for Bailey. His mom split when he was a baby, and Bailey grew up with a father who blamed him for her leaving. The silver lining is his best friend. Corky makes life not only bearable, but fun. Until they visit a video game store and Bailey sees the hottest guy he’s ever laid eyes on. Too bad the guy turns out to be a lunatic who bites Bailey and tries to kidnap him.

  The last Rising brother to mate has found the person fated to be his. Unfortunately, what could go wrong, went wrong. Not only does Walker have to haul ass before he’s arrested, but he has to get to Bailey before the human goes into mating heat. Walker has his work cut out for him, but Bailey is his one chance at happiness, and nothing will stand in his way.

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

  Length: 25,949 words

  WALKER

  Grizzly Ridge 6

  Lynn Hagen

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  WALKER

  Copyright © 2017 by Lynn Hagen

  ISBN: 978-1-64010-526-3

  First Publication: August 2017

  Cover design by Melody Simmons

  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.

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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

  WALKER

  Grizzly Ridge 6

  LYNN HAGEN

  Copyright © 2017

  Chapter One

  “Come and get me before I kill this bitch.” Bailey Bradford stormed out of the clothing store as angry tears gathered in his eyes.

  “Who are you about to kill?” Corky asked. He didn’t sound shocked at Bailey’s words.

  “Just come get me.” Bailey walked a block over to put some distance between him and his boss. He had had it. If he hadn’t walked out, he just might have curled his fingers around her throat and choked the very breath from her lungs.

  “I’m on my way, but tell me what happened,” his best friend said.

  “You know I’ve been having problems with Sarah.” Bailey slid his pack of cigarettes from his front pocket and lit one. He inhaled deeply, hoping the nicotine relaxed him enough that he didn’t go back into Clothes Posh and commit murder.

  “What’d your boss do this time?”

  “I didn’t even smoke before I went into work, and as soon as I walked in, she waved her hand in front of her nose and said she couldn’t have me working there with that smell wafting around the customers.” Bailey turned and glared at the store. “She said I couldn’t work today, and that she’d have to write me up, and get this. She wanted me to sign the written reprimand!”

  That had been the last straw. Ever since Bailey had started working there, one of his coworkers, Jane, had been out to get him. She was an older woman with a negative opinion about everything.

  She’d once told Bailey he was working a dead-end job and needed to do something more with his life. But Jane worked there, too. So didn’t that mean she worked a dead-end job, as well? But she kept running to Sarah, complaining about everything. Since Jane had been at Clothes Posh for six years and Bailey had started there two months ago, apparently her word was gold.

  Bailey still didn’t understand what he’d done to her. He made sure he was always in a perky mood when he went into work, even when he felt like flipping everyone off instead of smiling.

  “She made you leave because you smelled like cigarettes?” Corky finally sounded surprised. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing that. Still, I’ve been telling you since you started that nasty habit that you needed to quit.”

  “Seriously? You’re gonna give me a lecture when I’m having a meltdown?” Bailey headed toward the local tavern, the need to drown his sorrows making him thirsty. “That old bat shouldn’t even be working there. She couldn’t piece together an outfit if her life depended on it. I mean, come on, we’re talking about a secondhand store. I can see Sarah and Jane being picky about my smoking if I worked at some high-end clothing store. But a secondhand store?”

  Bailey reached the bar just as Corky pulled up to the curb next to him. The front tire on the passenger’s side hit the curb, rolled over it, then landed on the ground as Corky honked and pointed to the passenger’s seat. “Get your ass in here. You’re not getting drunk. It’s ten in the morning,” Corky said into the phone.

  After hanging up, Bailey slid into his best friend’s tiny red Honda Fit. The dork had the nerve to buy fuzzy pink car seat coverings, but Bailey had to admit, in the cold weather, they were warm and comfy.

  “Just quit.” Corky pulled away from the curb.

  “You can say that,” Bailey argued. “You have money in the bank. I can’t afford to be jobless.”

  “I told you I’d float you if you ever needed money.” Corky took the corner too quickly, his tires screeching. Bailey gripped the seat belt, strangling it as he clamped his teeth together.

  Corky was a horrible driver. Bailey wanted to meet the person who had given him a license. They needed their head examined. He stopped at red lights as if he were waiting for a race, revving the motor as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He paused at stop signs and stopped so close behind the car in front of them that their bumpers should’ve touched.

  But since Bailey didn’t own a car, he dealt with Corky’s horrible driving skills.

  “You should move in with me,” Corky suggested for the hundredth time since Bailey had befriended him a year ago.

  “And I told you, I’m not living off someone else. I gotta make my own way in the world.”

  “Why, because your dad called you a bum and said you were a waste of life?” Corky snorted as he barely put any pressure on the brake pedal at the stop sign, then drove on. “This coming from an alcoholic who works as an attendant at a gas station.”

  “Not every
one wins the lottery,” Bailey argued. Corky’s parents had, but they’d blown through their winnings so fast that they’d gone into hiding from their creditors. The only good that had come out of their experience was Corky’s mom buying him a car and giving him ten grand.

  Ten grand. They’d hit for two million. Before that, they’d lived in the trailer park on the west side of Grizzly Ridge. Corky had never gotten along with his folks. His old man had tried to beat the life out of Corky when he found out his only son was gay. Then the guy had gone off and gotten shit-faced, telling his friends he had a daughter instead of a son.

  Corky’s mom had been the one who’d slipped him the money and bought him the car, swearing him to secrecy. That had probably been the only nice thing she’d ever done for him.

  Bailey’s dad wasn’t much better. His father still lived in that same trailer park, but at least he had a job. His mom had taken off when Bailey was six months old, and Bailey’s dad had blamed their son for her leaving. He drank like a fish, gambled away most of his earnings, and slept with any skank who spread her legs.

  And he was always trying to borrow what little money Bailey made.

  “Don’t remind me of my loser parents,” Corky grumbled. He pulled into the video game store parking lot.

  “My life is going to shit and you want a new game?” Bailey sighed as he got out and closed the car door. “I swear I hate my life.”

  “What better way to take your mind off killing someone than spending hours killing zombies?” Corky ruffled Bailey’s hair. “We can get some smoke, some munchies, and get baked while we play. The zombies will look much cooler if we’re high.”

  “You know I don’t smoke that shit.” Bailey opened the door and stepped inside. A guy who looked as if he were a throwback from the hippie days stood behind the counter tapping away on his tablet. Some weird sixties song played through speakers behind him, and the store smelled like mothballs.

  The worker looked up and smiled. “Welcome, dudes.”

  His tie-dye headband kept his long, dry hair in place. Those John Lennon glasses didn’t do him any favors, and he had a tattoo of a peace sign on each wrist. “Let me know if you fellas need any help.”

  “I think we’re good,” Corky said, smirking at Bailey.

  “Far out.” The hippie nodded and went back to his tablet. Bailey half expected the guy to start throwing flowers at them.

  Corky wandered to the PS4 section and scanned the selections, but Bailey just wasn’t feeling this. Not after the morning he’d had.

  Not after the life I’ve had.

  “I’ll be outside.”

  His best friend nodded, but Bailey could tell Corky wasn’t paying him any mind. He was lost in his own personal heaven. Bailey threw a peace sign up to the hippie behind the counter and wandered outside. The late fall day was cool, making him zip his jacket up as he leaned against Corky’s car and scanned through his social media accounts on his phone.

  When a car door slammed, Bailey glanced up and had to do a double take. Holy fuck! The guy who had pulled into the gas station next door was a walking wet dream. He stood at the pump, pulling his wallet out, and Bailey was envious of the wallet for being so close to his ass.

  His gaze flashed to the store attached to the pumps and he decided he needed something, anything that would put him closer to the sex god. Bailey didn’t care if all the station had for sale was oil. He’d buy a freaking case if he had to.

  Tucking his phone into his back pocket, he wandered into the lot, passing the sexy stranger who was now loading the nozzle into his gas tank. The man paid him no attention, which was a bit disappointing.

  Bailey could have just stopped and struck up a conversation, but he lost his nerve and hurried into the station. The place smelled like old oil and looked as if the shelves hadn’t been dusted in a decade. No flipping way was he buying a bag of chips or a candy bar.

  He decided on a bottle of water since the cooler looked clean.

  As he paid for the water, Bailey glanced through the glass door. The guy was leaning against his maroon truck, his arms crossed, staring at the pump. If Bailey didn’t go out there and say something, he would lose his chance at what he was positive would be great sex.

  “Here you go.” The cashier handed Bailey his change. Seriously? He’d given the guy a five and he’d given Bailey two singles and two quarters. Life was just too damn expensive anymore.

  After shoving the change into his pocket, Bailey shouldered the door open and cracked the lid to his water. If he was going to talk to the guy, he didn’t need to choke on his dry throat.

  Bailey stopped a few feet from the sex god, on the opposite side of the pump, and his mind went completely blank. He opened his mouth and blurted out, “Do you have the time?”

  The stranger finally looked at him. He was well over six feet, with the prettiest gray eyes Bailey had ever seen—in truth, he’d never seen anyone with gray eyes before—and he wore a beard but no mustache. That might’ve looked stupid on most men, but this guy pulled it off.

  The stranger reached into his pocket and pulled his phone free. “Eleven on the nose.”

  “Thanks.” Bailey stood there like a complete idiot, searching for something else to say that would prolong their conversation, but he had nothing. Irritated with himself, he headed back to Corky’s car and lit a smoke, trying to put the sex god out of his mind.

  When Bailey leaned against the car again, he looked at the stranger and found the man was looking right at him. His thick, black brows were pulled together and Bailey couldn’t understand why he looked so confused. Bailey hadn’t done anything to make him stare so intently.

  Although Bailey did enjoy the attention. He turned sideways, leaning his hip into the driver’s door, jutting his ass slightly to give the guy something to look at. Bailey ran his hand through his short hair, posing like crazy and hoping that drew the guy to him.

  His heart galloped when the stranger hung up the nozzle, replaced the cap on his gas tank, and headed his way. He wanted to pump his arm and shout in victory, but he forced himself to seem uninterested as he looked down at his phone.

  When the stranger reached him, the guy stopped and cocked his head to the side. Bailey waited with bated breath for him to say something. “If you have a phone, why did you need me to tell you the time?”

  Busted. Still, he’d never had someone so damn gorgeous talk to him before, and Bailey became ruffled. “I just…I wasn’t sure…” He gave up sounding like a complete idiot and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  He became completely confused when the stranger leaned in and sniffed at him. Bailey leaned back, wondering what flavor of weirdo the guy was. “Did you want a smoke?”

  The man crinkled his nose. “Habit’ll kill you.”

  Bailey rolled his eyes. Like he hadn’t heard that a million times before. “Then why the hell are you sniffing me?” He’d showered that morning, and the day wasn’t hot enough to make him sweat.

  Bailey gripped his phone tighter when he noticed how dark the gray in the guy’s eyes had grown, and that he had two thick points sticking below his upper lip, as if his teeth had somehow lengthened. What the fuck?

  He advanced toward Bailey. Panicked, Bailey raced around the car to put some distance between them. “Stay the hell away from me!”

  Bailey’s feeble shout did nothing to stop him. The guy moved around the hood, coming right for him. Bailey dodged to the back, tossing his cigarette aside. “I know karate,” he lied.

  “Mine,” the freak growled.

  Sex was so not worth getting crazy all over him. Bailey ran in a wide berth, heading straight for the game store door, hoping he could escape and call the cops before this nutjob got his hands on him.

  Unfortunately, Corky was coming out as Bailey reached for the handle. The door whacked Bailey in the face. Bailey grabbed his head and howled as he jumped back.

  “Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Corky stood there with a perplexed look in his
eyes, gripping his bag in his hand. “Did you get drunk while I was in there?”

  “No.” Bailey felt around his forehead for a lump, thankful when he didn’t find one. “Who throws a damn door open like they’re running from the cops?”

  With a smile, Corky held up his bag. “I scored an awesome game.”

  Bailey yelped and Corky’s eyes grew round when Bailey was grabbed around the waist, and an explosive pain shot over his shoulder and around his neck. He struggled to get free as Corky swung his bag at the guy who held Bailey.

  “Get off him, you crazy bastard!” Corky shouted.

  Bailey was released a second later. He staggered sideways, spun, and threw his fist at the tall jerk, only to miss the guy’s jaw. “What the hell, man?” he shouted as he pressed his hand over the bite wound. “Who goes around biting people?”

  “I’m calling the cops.” Corky pulled out his phone, but the stranger slapped it out of his hand. The guy grabbed Bailey by his upper arm and hauled him toward his truck.

  As Bailey fought to get free, Corky kicked and punched at the stranger. “Let him go!”

  Suddenly, Bailey was free. He hadn’t expected to be released. He’d been pulling back, trying to get his arm loose. The backward momentum made him fall on his ass. Corky tried to fight off the stranger as Bailey shoved to his feet.

  “Are you some kind of mental patient?” Bailey snapped. “You better not have rabies.”

  Another car had pulled into the station. The guy got out and glanced their way. “Everything all right?”

  “No,” Bailey shouted. “This whacked-out fucker is trying to kidnap me.”

  The stranger who’d attacked him moved toward the pumps. He glanced Bailey’s way, his eyes still dark, his teeth still long, before he got into his truck and peeled away, his tires screeching as he hit the main road and hauled ass.