Chapter
One
“So what are we going to do today, Race?” Connal Price kicked his feet up in the air, flexing his toes as he stared at the ceiling. He liked a roadside motel, really. Especially a clean one. Nice mattresses. Weird snacks. Roadside attractions and diner food.
He did miss his own bed. And his brothers. But he was traveling with Race.
Race needed him.
Race arched an eyebrow at him and rolled his eyes. “Same thing we do most nights, Pinky.”
Connal grinned. “Ooh, yummy! But what if the kangaroo won’t wear the garter belt, Brain?”
Race flipped him off, but it did earn him a chuckle, so Connal counted it as a win.
“Seriously, what’s the plan?” he asked. They were on the road, their motorcycles parked in front of the room where they could see them out the window. There was some sort of rescue mission; there was always one with Race. And Con was here for it.
Race shrugged. “There’s a bunny shifter who needs help. He’s trapped in some warehouse. Intel says we’ll have to carry him. Apparently he freezes when he panics.”
“A bunny? Are you serious? A bunny?”
Race nodded. “I’m serious. Apparently, he’s kinda fuzzy.”
“You know that old joke about whether poop sticks to rabbit fur?—”
Race shook his head. “Don’t. Just don’t talk. No talking. You are now barred from talking.”
“Can I sing?” He hummed a few bars of a pop song that was stuck in his head.
“No. No humming, singing, talking. Zip it.”
Connal made his best sad face, then started signing his words. He started with, “You suck.”
He’d learned sign language one summer because he was bored. YouTube was amazing, but he’d also taken classes online from a community college.
To his utter shock, Race signed back. “You wish, Bear. You’ll never know how well I suck.”
Oh, who was Race kidding? He was gonna know.
They were totally into one another. Race was just playing hard to get.
Con got it. He did. Race was worried. He saw a lot of omega abuse. And he didn’t believe in mates. He’d said so while they’d all been at Con’s brother Ryder’s place, rescuing Race’s brother.
The twisty name game in that sentence made his eyes cross.
Still, he could be worried and wanting at the same time, and Connal would be patient.
And right the fuck here. He wasn’t letting Race out of his sight. Nope. Con was stuck like glue.
He wiggled his toes some more, then swayed his legs from side to, doing a little yoga flow to warm up his body. Unlike hisbrothers, all of them grizzly shifters, he didn’t sleep a lot. Oh, he could nap, but he didn’t snooze for days.
“Are you okay?”
He glanced over at Race. “Yeah, why?”
“You just look uncomfortable.”
Oh, Race cared. How sweet. “I’m used to moving around a little bit more.” He had a workshop out behind his cabin, and he did metal work and sculpture and pottery.
