His Foxy Devil Read online

  

  Brac Village 32

  His Foxy Devil

  Mitch had met his mate at the diner. Stunned that he’d found the redhead, but already working a job, Mitch promises to pick Pat up from work. That was until he and his team came up against a hellhound, and not just any hound, but a firstborn. Now Mitch not only has to keep one step ahead of the beast who wants him dead, but protect his mate, as well.

  Pat was thrilled that he’d found his mate, until he was whisked away from his home and taken to his mate who was fighting for his very life after being bitten. Pat had never met a hellhound, but knew how nasty their bite can be. But not all is what it seems, and it’s up to Pat to figure out a solution, especially when the hellhound’s mate kidnaps him. Syphon tells Pat the only way to get his mate away from it all is if Pat and the others are dead.

  Genres: Alternative (M/M, Gay), Contemporary, Fantasy, Paranormal, Romantic Suspense, Shape-shifter

  Length: 28,760

  HIS FOXY DEVIL

  Brac Village 32

  Lynn Hagen

  

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  His Foxy Devil

  Copyright © 2019 by Lynn Hagen

  ISBN: 978-1-64243-824-6

  First Publication: May 2019

  Cover design by Emma Nicole

  All art and logo copyright © 2019 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 Siren-BookStrand e-book or print book being sold or shared illegally, please let us know at [email protected]

  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

  HIS FOXY DEVIL

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  HIS FOXY DEVIL

  Brac Village 32

  LYNN HAGEN

  Copyright © 2019

  Chapter One

  Moose shook his head. “I refuse to believe it. Holbrook has been a part of this team for over a decade. He’s as loyal as they come.”

  Moose leaned against Mitch’s truck. They were parked at Mitch’s cabin, the out-of-the-way safe house he had let Cal and Francis use. The safe house that had been nearly destroyed. Mitch was still steaming over that, although he knew it hadn’t been their fault.

  Mitch tapped his finger against the file in his hand. “Pictures and bank statements don’t lie. He was in cahoots with the DeFranco brothers, and he even took that contract from Hershel Covetti to kill his grandson, Cal.”

  Darren’s brows were drawn together as he slowly shook his head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

  Mitch agreed. He had told Callahan Covetti that the threat had been neutralized. And it had. Mitch had killed Holbrook in a shootout. Holbrook had forced Mitch’s hand, even though Mitch hadn’t wanted to kill his longtime friend.

  He still couldn’t believe Holbrook had been a contract killer.

  “Do I need to worry about you two?” He arched a brow as he looked between Moose—whose real name was John Zitelli—and Darren.

  Darren made a noise in the back of his throat. “I’m solid, bro. I have enough money in the bank, and my job is to neutralize threats, not join them.”

  “How much money are we talking?” Moose grinned. When Mitch glared at him, the bear shifter’s smile slid away. “Bad timing. Sorry. I’m good,” he said. “You can trust me, Mitch.”

  “If either of you make me shoot you, I’m gonna be real pissed.” Mitch tossed the file into the backseat of his car. “We still haven’t tracked Lenox down, but we’ve got another assignment.”

  “About fucking time,” Moose grumbled. “Not that I don’t mind helping out unconscious polar bears or chasing down demons, but I’m ready for something more exciting.”

  “Same here,” Darren said. “I don’t mind being someone’s backup, as long as it isn’t something we do all the time.”

  The three grew quiet, remembering their team member, Mack, who had been killed when Cal needed backup and the DeFranco brothers opened fire in the bear shifter’s office.

  Mitch didn’t like losing men. Mack had left behind a mate and little girl. Mitch had given her Mack’s fee for the assignment just because he felt guilty as hell for her loss.

  Add to that the fact that Mack knew how to save money and his mate never had to worry about money again. But a hefty bank account didn’t replace a loved one. It sure as shit wouldn’t give Mitch back his friend.

  “What’s the assignment?” Darren asked.

  Mitch pulled out his phone and logged into his company website. It was a small firm, Lacross Omega Security. Most of their contracts were top secret government shit, but on occasion, especially when work was slow, they delved into the private sector and took jobs from ordinary citizens.

  Like Callahan Covetti.

  Mitch knew that Cal thought he had betrayed him. That hadn’t been the case, but as soon as he knew Cal would be okay, Mitch had taken off to hunt Holbrook down. But he had still stayed in contact with Cal’s mate’s uncle. Detective Jake Licari, giving the wolf shifter updates.

  When Mitch had located Paul DeFranco, he had sent Jake the location, only to give Cal closure.

  “The Ultionem wants to hire us for a job,” Mitch said. He knew the leaders had many resources when it came to handling a problem, and once in a while, they threw Mitch and his men a case, which was much appreciated because they paid top dollar and the work never sent them overseas like some of their government contracts did.

  “Two hellhounds need to be handled,” Mitch said.

  Moose scoffed. “Give me something challenging.”

  Moose thought that because he was nearly seven feet tall, thick with muscles, and a softy on the inside. That was what scared Mitch. One day Moose would be nice to the wrong person, and Mitch prayed like hell Moose walked away from the situation with all his body parts intact.

  Darren was different. He was tall and lean, with dark hair and a thick beard and mustache that made him appear friendly, although he was a trained mercenary that could go from smiling to stabbing someone in the blink of an eye. The coyote shifter was lethal, but only to those who deserved it.

  “Their names are Syphon and Demonian, and these two aren’t your run-of-the-mill hellhounds,” Mitch said. “They escaped the bowels of the underworld and are as ancient as the Keeper.”

  “Who?” Darren’s dark brows furrowed.

  Mitc
h rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake. You’re over three hundred years old and you’ve never heard of the Keeper?”

  Moose slowly raised his hand, which seemed ridiculous since he towered over both of them. What people didn’t know about Moose was that he had the biggest fucking heart to those he considered a friend. “Kinda need that explained, too.”

  “The Keeper,” Mitch said. “He runs the underworld, locks bad guys in cells, has power over the dead, and some even say he was the one who shaped the universe.”

  Darren chuckled. “Bedtime stories?”

  “You two need to get out more often.” Mitch glanced over the details of the assignment. “They were last seen in Desire, but intel says they are heading this way.”

  “You got pictures of them in their human form?” Darren asked.

  “I’m sending them to your phones.” Mitch tapped the picture and sent them in a group text. “We’ll split up. Don’t approach if you spot them. Call it in and wait for backup.”

  Darren gave a low whistle as he gazed at his phone. “They look like straight-up thugs.”

  Moose smirked. “I don’t know. The one on the left is kinda hot.”

  “Hellhound,” Mitch reminded the moron. “Lethal bite to most, nasty temper, and these two have flaming red eyes, and when they shift, their rottweiler form has three heads.”

  “He’s still hot.” Moose grinned.

  “You’re hopeless,” Darren said. “You won’t get near him to hit on him. Remember, they suck all the happiness out of you.”

  “Just like you two are doing right now,” Moose said. “A guy can appreciate good looks and you two need to loosen up.”

  “I’m heading to the center of town.” Mitch tucked his phone into his back pocket. “Moose, you take the west side of Brac Village. Darren, you take the east. Report in every hour.”

  Mitch watched them leave before he headed inside. He walked to the bathroom and groaned. The wall-length counter had been destroyed, as well as the glass wall for the shower. As soon as this new assignment was done, he would hire Roman Lakeland to repair the mess.

  Until then, Mitch went outside and jumped into his truck and headed to the downtown area of Brac Village. He parked in front of the diner and got out, looking over the people walking past him.

  Mitch wished a miracle would fall into his lap and he would spot the two, but his luck was never that fortunate.

  He stilled when he scented fresh strawberries. Where the hell was that aroma coming from? He looked up and down the street, trying to pinpoint the smell.

  “I’m telling you,” some redhead said as he passed Mitch, “dating in this town sucks.”

  The guy was with someone else, a short, dark-haired man who wore slacks and a sweater vest. “I’m so glad I don’t have that problem,” the dark-haired man said.

  “You’re darn lucky,” the redhead said.

  Mitch leaned against his truck, folded his arms, and watched the short and slim man who had the prettiest green eyes Mitch had ever seen.

  “You’ll find your special someone.” The dark-haired man patted the redhead’s arm right before they strode into the diner.

  Mitch never veered from his assignments. His attention was always focused, but the redhead had distracted him, and before he knew what his feet were doing, he followed the two into the diner.

  They’d taken a seat at one of the booths by the window. Mitch slid into the one behind them.

  “Anyway,” the redhead said. “Did you hear that Sheriff Werth is taking Newt on a vacation? I’m so jealous. But I think he’s doing it because Newt is pissed that Werth, even after all this time, still misses his dog and his mate is tired of him being all mopey.”

  “You’re so bad, Pat,” the dark-haired man said. “Gossiping should be illegal.”

  Pat. Now Mitch had a name to go with Pat’s gorgeous face.

  “Hush your mouth,” Pat said. “If that were the case, I would be locked up and the key would be thrown away.”

  Mitch tuned out the rest of their conversation. He simply stared at Pat as the man laughed, admiring his sweet smile and the way his wrist flipped back and forth as he talked.

  Mitch’s cheetah yowled at the delightful sound. Even over the smell of coffee, greasy fries, meat sizzling, and pine cleaner, Mitch could still detect Pat’s strawberry scent.

  He cocked his head to the side. He even smelled Pat’s fox. It was the same scent he had detected in Francis’s apartment.

  His cheetah yowled louder. Mitch felt his canines trying to descend, and the hairs along his body stood on end. What the fuck? He had never had this kind of reaction to a cute guy before. Normally his cheetah didn’t give a shit one way or the other who Mitch was interested in.

  But his beast was going nuts.

  Mitch gripped the side of the table, breathing steadily to calm his cheetah down. When he looked up, Pat was staring strangely at him.

  “What’s wrong?” the dark-haired man asked Pat. “You look…I don’t know…constipated.”

  Pat nibbled at his lower lip, and Mitch groaned loud enough for the dark-haired man to turn and look at him.

  His gaze locked with Mitch’s, Pat got up and took a seat across from him. “Am I going crazy, or do you feel a connection?”

  Now that Pat was closer, his scent stronger, Mitch felt as though he had been gut punched. His body coiled tight, and Mitch widened his eyes when a purr rumbled through his chest.

  Pat’s eyes widened, as well. Then he smiled, and fuck, Mitch was bewitched by the simple twist of the guy’s lips. “I like that purring sound.”

  Mitch looked toward the door. He had accepted the contract. He needed to be out there looking for the hellhounds, but damn if he could make himself get up and leave.

  Instead, he stuck his hand out. “Mitchell Lacross.”

  “Patrick Moore.” Pat slid his slim hand into Mitch’s, and Mitch never wanted to let it go. Pat leaned closer, his hand still attached to Mitch’s. “Are we mates?”

  The question was a punch from left field. With his other hand, Mitch rubbed his chest. “This is one hell of an attraction I feel toward you.”

  Pat slid his hand from Mitch’s and sat back. “I know, right?”

  “What’s going on?” The dark-haired man turned and was on his knees as he looked over the booth.

  “Mind your own, Maltese,” Pat said. “We’ll talk later.”

  The waiter approached their table.

  Pat blinked at the guy then turned his attention back to Mitch. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  “Well, I am,” Maltese said. “We only have an hour for lunch, so you better eat instead of making googly eyes at the hot stranger.”

  Pat waved his hand over his shoulder. “Then eat and let me have my hour.”

  “Whatever,” Maltese grumbled as he turned back around.

  Mitch sniffed a little harder. Maltese was demon. He had never met one who wasn’t trying to con someone—except for the demon warriors. It was odd as hell seeing one so short and slim with big, innocent eyes.

  “Where do you work?” Mitch turned his attention back to Pat, but he seriously needed to get out of there. Mitch also wanted to know where to find his mate.

  His mate. Mother fuck. Talk about bad timing.

  “I’m a dispatcher at the police station.” Pat grabbed a pen out of the waiter’s half-apron without asking. He turned Mitch’s hand over and scribbled on his palm. “That’s my phone number.”

  Mitch grabbed the pen and wrote his on Pat’s palm. “And that’s mine.”

  Just then Mitch’s phone beeped. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand free and grabbed his phone from his pocket. It was Moose. He had spotted one of the hellhounds.

  Mitch had to go. “I need to run, but I want to meet up later.”

  The blush that stole over Pat’s cheeks was adorable as hell. “I don’t get off until eight.”

  Mitch grabbed Pat’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “Then I’ll see you at eight.”
r />   With a frustrated sigh, Mitch got up and headed out of the diner. He called Moose when he slipped into his truck. “Where are you?”

  Moose gave him the location.

  “Have you alerted Darren?”

  “He’s on his way,” Moose said.

  “Don’t you dare make a move until I get there.” Mitch hung up and pulled from the curb, heading toward the west side of town. While he drove, he punched Pat’s number into his contacts. The last thing Mitch wanted was to sweat or rub his mate’s number from his hand.

  Are we mates? Despite the dire situation Mitch was headed into, he smiled, shook his head, and let a bubble of laughter loose, still in shock that the fox shifter was his mate.

  His smile died when he pulled in behind the high school. Clouds had moved in to block the sun as Mitch parked and got out. Moose was two spaces down from him, and the parking lot was filled with cars.

  What was a hellhound doing at a school?

  As if reading his mind, Moose shook his head. “He’s not in the school.” He jerked his chin toward the end of the street. “He went into the white house with yellow trim. I just thought I’d blend in among the sea of cars.”

  That was impossible considering how tall the guy was. He towered over the vehicles. He would have been better off hiding behind one of the school buses. “He was alone?”

  Moose grinned. “It’s the hot one, Demonian.”

  Along with Moose having the biggest heart where his friends were concerned, the guy was a dork, despite how deadly he could be. While working, Moose was all business. When on downtime, he was like a big teddy bear, which was ironic since he was a black bear shifter.