Hagen, Lynn - Remi's Pup [Brac Pack 4] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove)

Brac Pack 4

LYNN HAGEN

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

Drew ran his fingers over his scalp. This was bullshit. How the hell had he ended up like this? He had been a straight-A student. A good kid. How did his world come crashing down on him so hard? He rubbed his hands over his arms as he paced his apartment, passing that little black box, wishing it wasn’t empty. No. Glad it was empty. No...fuck! Maybe one more time. Just one more.

Drew anguished over what he should do. It had been three days since his last fix. He used to be able to go weeks in between, then it became once every two weeks, then once every week, but now he struggled on a daily basis not to give in to the calling. His body itched, his chest tightened, and his head hurt. Just one more. He could stop after that. Just one more trip to forgetville and he could go back to his normal life. What was his normal life? He had a small trust fund to live off of, but with his habit, it was dwindling fast.

Grabbing his coat, he headed to the Midway Mall. Drew cursed his weakness, feeling utterly ashamed. He knew he shouldn’t be here, didn’t want to be here, but it was calling him, seducing him. Just once more.

Drew looked for the skater boy who always hung around the food court entertaining his peanut gallery. The guy was an ass, but he was the only one Drew knew who could help him out. Spotting him, Drew tilted his head to the side to let him know he was needed.

“What’s up,
Andrew
.”

God, he hated when Mike spoke his name. He made it sound so dirty. It was bad enough he was here to see the scumbag. He always had to remind Drew
why
he was here.

“Hurting?” Mike sneered.

“Yeah, what do you have?”

They went into the public bathroom and came out two minutes later, Mike heading back to the food court and Drew heading home. His head was spinning. Now that he had what he needed, his heart raced in anticipation. Soon. Soon, he would be okay.

“Hey, kid.”

Drew turned to see a guy nodding at him. Cop? Did he know what he had on him? Picking up his pace, he quickly heading for the exit then burst through the door into blinding sunlight. Shoving his hands in his coat, Drew walked faster, cutting through the parking lot.

Drew looked back to see the guy following him.
Shit.
His fast pace turned into an all-out run. He had almost made it to the street when arms circled around his waist and lifted him from his feet.

“Get the fuck off me.” Drew kicked out, swinging his arms furiously.

“Settle down, kid. I ain’t gonna hurt you.” The guy kept a tight hold on him, and fear gripped Drew, thinking about what he had in his pocket.

“Am I under arrest?” He so didn’t want to go to jail. They would eat him alive in a place like that. Tough prison guys loved guys like him. He would be a brown-haired, hazel-eyed, five foot six, slim build prison bitch. Hell no.

Drew fought harder to get away, but the guy yanked Drew’s back tight to his chest, squeezing him close. His hand stayed in his pocket, ensuring his packet didn’t fall out.

“I ain’t a cop. Calm down.”

“If you ain’t a cop, get your perverted hands off of me. You trying to kidnap me or something? I ain’t into that shit. Get the hell off me.” Drew swung his elbow back, making contact with the guy’s stomach. His elbow hurt now. Was he wearing a vest or something? The guy didn’t even flinch.

“Calm down and I’ll release you,” the man promised in his ear.

Drew went limp in his arms like a rag doll. As soon as he was free, he was hauling ass. Damn guy must have read his mind.

“Don’t even think about running. You wouldn’t believe how fast I am.” Drew was set on his feet, running before they touched the ground. He made it about a block before his feet left the ground again.
Dammit!

“I told you not to run.” The man growled.

Drew kicked and punched, trying to rid himself of this guy.

“Okay, fine.” Drew finally settled down, he was winded anyway. He needed to catch a breath before his next marathon. “If you’re not a cop, what’s with grabbing me?”

“I just want to talk to you.”

Drew turned around to face the guy.
Abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous.
Were his eyes really silver? Shit, they were. His eyes demanded attention. He even rocked the military cut. It was the color of dishwater blond. That‘s what his mom had called that color.

Drew let his gaze drop to the guy’s chest. His T-shirt stretched across a chiseled chest and abs. He could actually see the ridges from the guy’s eight pack stomach. What did a guy who looked like a runway model want with him? To talk? About what? Why?

He asked just that. “About what?”

“You. What you’re doing. Getting help. Leaving that poison alone.”

“Fuck off.” Drew’s attention was back on his purchase. He needed to get home. His heart was beginning to race at the thought of getting high. He needed to get out of here.

Drew rubbed his hands up and down his arms. It was starting to hurt again. “Later.” He walked away only to find a shadow. “Look, I don’t need your help.”

The guy didn’t say anything, his expression stoic. He just shrugged and continued to follow Drew.

The apartment building came into view. He had to ditch this guy.

Drew broke camp, running through the parking lot and around the side of the building, jumping a fence and heading to the back door. He made it in, the security door locking behind him.

Tossing his coat on the couch, he crossed to his bedroom, grabbing the black box.

What did that guy want? Couldn’t have been to help. He had to be some pervert out to snatch young guys. Thank god he got away. There’s was no telling what that man would have done to him, and as good as he looked, no telling what he would have let him do.

 
Drew grabbed a lighter from his dresser before heading back into the kitchen. The box fell from his hand as he stood there in shock. The guy was standing in his kitchen.

* * * *

Remi knew what his mate was about to do, and there was no way it was going to happen. He grabbed the kid’s arm, shoving his sleeve up.

The warrior closed his eyes, not wanting to see what he suspected. Track marks littered his arm like spiderwebs. Remi wished he could heal them, but they were too old to do anything about. It would be a constant reminder to his mate of what his life had been about.

His mate yanked his arm away, shame showing in his eyes.

“How the hell did you get in here?” The smaller man bent down, grabbing the black box. Remi snatched it from him and opened the lid. Drug paraphernalia. A growl ripped from his chest as he pulled the items out, breaking and bending everything, shredding the plastic band into tiny pieces like a crazed man.

“Stop! What are you doing? Give it here!” The kid dove for Remi’s hands, trying to save whatever he could. Remi destroyed it all.

“Give me what you bought.” Remi knew that’s why the kid was at the mall. He had watched the transaction, watched as he shoved a small yellow packet into his coat pocket. That packet needed to be destroyed.

The kid shot into his bedroom, the snick of the lock indicating the man’s intent. Oh, his mate was really asking to get his ass kicked. Remi’s eyes shifted, too enraged to hold his wolf back any longer. His brows furrowed in anger as he kicked the door open, and he saw his mate stuffing something in his closet. Remi grabbed his arm, pulling it back to find a little yellow packet smashed in his palm. He wrestled it out of his grasp and found the bathroom, flushing it.

“No! No! No! What have you done?” The guy was screaming, swishing his hand in toilet water as he tried to save the powder that had already dissolved. Remi grabbed him and hauled him to the bed, blanketing his body over his mate’s while the kid fought, fought hard.

“Fight it, kid. Fight it. Don’t let it win.” He held on as the guy bucked and screamed. Sweat poured down his mate’s temples, his eyes darting around wildly. He could feel his mate’s heart thumping erratically. Remi had never been more scared in his two hundred and twenty-eight years.

The man’s fight was dying down, Remi never getting off of him. He laid over him for hours. The kid occasionally renewed his efforts, but Remi held on until he settled again.

Remi slid to his side, pulling his mate into his arms, caressing his hair and back. “Fight it, baby. Please,” he begged from a whisper.

The guy jackknifed then leaned over the side of the bed and vomited. Remi petted his hair, rubbed his back. His mate began to shake as he wrapped his arms around his stomach. “It hurts.” He cried.

Tears brimmed Remi’s eyes as he grabbed his mate, pulling him into his lap. “What’s your name, kid?” He wanted to take his mate’s mind off of his pain. He knew nothing would work right now, but he had to try.

“D–Drew.” Remi grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapped Drew in it. He grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and called the warrior Storm.

Thirty minutes later, Remi was carrying Drew out, wrapped tight, into the waiting SUV.

“He okay?”

Remi carefully climbed into the back, holding on tight to the young man wrapped in a blue and red comforter.

“No, just get me home.” Remi held Drew tight against his chest, feeling tremors rack his young body.

The ride seemed to take triple the amount of time it normally should have to get from the city to their small town. They pulled into the gravel drive, Storm stopping directly in front of the door. Remi crawled out as Storm opened the back door for him then helped him through the front door of the house.

All noise ceased in the den. All eyes on him. He didn’t blame his fellow Sentries. He had disappeared for two weeks, searching for the scent he had discovered clinging to his Commander’s clothes. His Commander, Hawk, had told him that he approached a young male at the mall for information when Hawk’s mate had gone missing. That’s the only stranger he had come in close contact with that day.

Remi had lived in his truck, waiting to spot his mate that Hawk had described to him. Finally, today, he found him. Hawk also told Remi that Drew had asked for money for his helpful information. He suspected drug use, which set Remi on his hunt to find his mate as quickly as possible.

Drew whimpered as Remi took him upstairs, shifting in the blanket.

“Hold on, baby. Almost there.” Remi rounded the corner, finally reaching his bedroom door. He shoved through and laid Drew on his bed. What was he supposed to do? He called Storm again as he watched his mate scream in pain.

“I need you to find
anyone
in this fucking house that knows what to do for drug withdrawal.” He tossed the phone aside, crawling in the bed and wrapping his body around his mate again.

The warriors Storm, Tank, and Commander Hawk came through the door. Tank took the basin he brought and went into the bathroom as Hawk instructed Remi to strip his mate down to his underwear. Remi wasn’t in the frame of mind to care right now that anyone saw Drew in his boxer briefs or the track marks that littered his arm.

Tank emerged with the basin filled with water. He handed a washcloth to Remi and dipped another himself. They began to wipe him down, washing away the sweat and dried vomit. Tank took the basin to the bathroom and emptied it as Hawk grabbed a sweat-free cover out of the closet. They all sat with him as Drew vomited a few more times, cried that he hurt, and begged anyone to give him one more fix.

Remi was exhausted by the time Drew fell asleep.