BlackMoonRising

  Black Moon Rising

  Melody Lane

  Steve enjoys his day job as a shapeshifting bounty hunter—but his personal life is a mess. Nightmares of his father’s death and fantasies of a lost love torment him each night. Until he responds to a bail bondsman’s request to pick up a bail jumper and gets the shock of his life—the presumed murderer is Herman, his long-lost love.

  Muscular firefighter Herman never expected to see the man he shared unbelievably hot chemistry with ever again. After all, he’d ditched their relationship and his lifestyle for a chance to reconcile with his estranged father. Could Steve possibly forgive that?

  When the Merlotti crime family—all vicious, remorseless werewolves—get a sniff of Herman, the situation becomes desperate. What do they know about Lawrence Fleming’s death, and can Steve save the only man he’s ever loved before it’s too late?

  A Romantica® GBLT male/male paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  Black Moon Rising

  Melody Lane

  Chapter One

  “No shots were fired, Mrs. Fleming. Apologies for anything we did that may have alarmed you. Beck Recovery is a fugitive recapture firm and as the owner I give you my word that we are trained and licensed professionals. Your safety is of utmost importance to us. We received a tip that Herman was here and every tip must be taken seriously.” Joni Beck spoke softly. “Don’t think I’ve heard that name in a long time, especially on a young man.”

  “He was named after Herman Melville, the author of Moby Dick.” Barbara Fleming dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Lawrence obsessed about anything related to that damned book. Naming his only child Herman confirmed how important it was to him.”

  As Steve listened to his mother talk to Mrs. Fleming, he took in all the sights and smells around him, fiddling with the silver earring in his right ear. Only a few moments earlier he, his mother and brother Eric had surrounded the house, prepared to take the bail jumper Herman Fleming into custody if he were to be found on the premises.

  His nose twitched. The impeccably dressed middle-aged woman sitting across from them had sprayed perfume on herself within the last hour. Too strong. He preferred the natural scent of a person. As the sudden aroma of meat cooking hit his nostrils, he turned his head toward what might be the direction of the kitchen. Definitely pot roast. And definitely too overcooked for his tastes.

  He glanced around the room, filled with the finest leather furniture, marble end tables and other creature comforts of the rich, and his eyes settled on a picture shoved into a corner bookcase. He rose from his seat and picked it up. The man standing in the picture couldn’t be any hotter. That certainly wasn’t the recently deceased Lawrence Fleming, a man bound to his wheelchair for most of his waking hours due to an above-the-knee amputation from a lifetime of diabetes.

  Could this picture possibly be Herman? What struck him first was the sexy-as-hell face. A perfect smile with full, sensuous lips he’d love to part with his tongue and finish with his cock. Sunglasses hid his eyes. Too bad. He loved to look into them. You could see a person’s intentions there. That was why animals always looked to the eyes first. Something about this man seemed familiar though. He stared at the lips and let out a deep breath.

  The man reminded Steve of the guy he had fallen in love with at the gym in Boystown years ago. One of his continual dreams. What had started out as months of anonymous sex in the shower and private rooms had turned into something else. Something beautiful.

  Steve felt pain grip his heart as he thought back to those happy days. What that man’s lips did to him was mind-blowing. That electrifying mouth would kiss Steve deep and hungry, with each twist of his tongue making Steve’s rod grow harder. He had never been so turned on by kissing before than with that lover.

  After a few encounters, the man could sense the perfect time to move to Steve’s dick. He’d close in over the head and let it slowly slide in and out of his mouth, while Steve moaned with crazy desire as he watched. Once Steve couldn’t take it anymore, the man would suck hard as Steve came and milk every drop with his gorgeous mouth as if it were the sweetest nectar on earth.

  Remembering those days made Steve’s shaft hard right now. He’d never had a relationship like that one. It had definitely messed up his mind when it abruptly ended. His brain felt twisted like a corkscrew every time he reminisced. All he wanted was to have a healthy, happy relationship and he wondered if it would ever happen for him.

  “I just want Herman caught.“ Barbara shuddered. “I can’t believe he even made bail after sticking that awful knife into his father’s back. Please turn over that disgusting picture. I can’t believe I missed throwing it out.”

  Steve jolted back into reality and turned over the picture as requested. “I know you’re upset, Mrs. Fleming, but you have to remember that all suspects are innocent until proven guilty in a court of law.”

  “He cleaned out the safe too. Money, bonds, jewelry.” Barbara frowned. “What about that?”

  “Let me help you understand the law better,” offered Steve’s brother Eric, another important member of Beck Recovery. “When Herman’s fingerprints were found on the weapon, the charge was attempted murder because your husband was still alive. I know he was already in bad shape when he reached the hospital and went to surgery. Herman received bail because he didn’t have a criminal record and wasn’t deemed a flight risk. Once he vanished, we received the case from the bondsman with the charge changed to unlawful flight to avoid prosecution for attempted murder and robbery. That has changed again since your husband passed away in the hospital.”

  Barbara nodded. “I understand but it doesn’t make me any happier about this situation.”

  Steve glanced up at the wall that held knives and implements of all sizes. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “Those harpoons were for whales. The knives were the other tools used to process the whale afterward. There are boarding, mincing and leaning knives up there. Goes along with that crazy Moby Dick obsession Lawrence had. He was killed by what’s called a leaning knife, which is similar to a butcher knife. Listen to me talk.” Barbara shook her head. ”I’ve learned so much about them over the years I can tell which is which.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

  Eric whistled. “Quite a collection.”

  “Does Herman have any friends in the area or out of state that we can contact?” Joni asked.

  “I really have no idea.” Barbara shrugged. “Herman and I aren’t close. He certainly would have never confided in me. Not even for one moment.”

  Joni stood from the couch. “Thanks again for talking to me and my sons. Our warrant is active and Beck Recovery will continue searching for him. If you should hear any word about where he might be, contact the police right away.”

  “Oh, you can be sure of that.” Barbara’s mouth turned down.

  “We’re sorry for your loss,” Steve added quietly.

  The Beck family walked out of the house and surveyed their plush surroundings. Impeccable lawns and stately homes. Murders might happen in classy places every day of the week. Just not often in the affluent suburbs of the North Shore.

  “I didn’t tell her that Herman’s cell phone had a call placed to a number in Boystown right here in Chicago immediately after he made bail.” Joni opened the car doors and they got in. Eric in the front with his mom, Steve in the back. “Nothing since, so he’s wise not to be using it now. The name that goes with the phone number is Mike Sullivan but the address for Mike is listed as a bakery on Halsted.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Steve asked.

  “There are other leads to follow too,” Joni said. “He has a lot of firefighter friends that we need to speak with.”

  “I’
ve always heard they’re a tight community,” muttered Eric. “And closed-mouth about each other.”

  Joni let out a breath. “I can’t help but feel the Boystown call was significant. I’ve been in the business long enough to trust my gut.” She glanced at Steve in the rear-view mirror. “You still hang out there?”

  Steve shrugged. “From time to time. Not like I used to but I’ll offer to go.” He ran his fingers through his short blond hair.

  “Even though you’re trying, you don’t look like me with that blond hair,” teased Eric. “It doesn’t look good on you. Doesn’t match your coloring.”

  “Thanks, Eric. Always appreciate your support.” Steve had needed a change in his life and his short blond hair made him look and feel like a different person.

  His older brother glanced at Steve in the back seat. “Herman was attractive. I’ll give you that.”

  Steve undid the Velcro from his bulletproof vest and threw the vest on the seat. “Yep.” His brother was close to admitting he was gay, but still holding back. Steve understood. It had taken him a while too.

  “I wonder if Herman really did it,” Eric mused.

  “We’ve done a background check and he’s never been in trouble but he was caught in the act with the whale knife,” said Joni.

  “Only according to the stepmother.” Eric shrugged. “You know things aren’t always like they seem. Like when Dad was killed. Steve saw the werewolf—he was right there. But the police insisted it wasn’t anything supernatural. He was ripped apart by a knife from a gang member instead.”

  Steve glared at his brother. “Why the hell are you bringing that up? You know I still have nightmares.”

  “Okay, you two,” grumbled Joni. “It’s better we don’t talk about that night. That was fifteen years ago. Paranormals weren’t even out in society yet. Everyone was hidden, whether they were a shifter, were or vamp.”

  “Yeah, just like gays.” Steve frowned. “They were forced to hide in the closet too.”

  Steve crossed his arms in anger and his face flushed. When his brother became uncomfortable he liked to put Steve on the spot. The pain crept in again after all these years, just like it always did. Therapy had helped some but it was easy to remember that life had seemed perfect until that fateful night.

  His tough shapeshifting father was killed protecting twelve-year-old Steve, who didn’t even know he was a shapeshifter yet. He was in his human form and they were walking home after getting off a city bus. His killer was never caught. And although the family and police thought it might be related to a case they had worked on in the past, there wasn’t enough evidence to pursue anyone in particular. A dead-end in more ways than one. Too bad Steve had been so young. If he had been older, perhaps he would have been more observant about clues.

  He stared out the window at the darkening sky and tried to let his mind go blank. Sometimes it helped him to relax when he was upset.

  * * * * *

  Steve covered his hair with a cap and walked the six blocks from the bus to the bakery and cafe that had been called from Herman’s cell phone. It looked like a hip place when he looked through the windows. Bright pastry and cupcake paintings in hot pink, purple and lime-green adorned the walls. A young crowd sat at the tables and conversed while they ate. Chefs in white hats and black aprons worked their magic in a glass-walled kitchen.

  He looked through the selection of cookies and settled on one. The oatmeal with a touch of banana and dried cranberry.

  “May I help you?” asked a young woman with tattooed arms and short black hair.

  “That one right there.” Steve smiled and pointed.

  The woman took the cookie out of the case with a napkin and placed it in a small paper bag. “Anything else?”

  “Nope.” He couldn’t help but stick his nose inside the bag and sniff the cookie. It smelled sweet, like a freshly peeled banana, and his mouth watered.

  “That’s two-fifty.”

  Steve paid the girl. “Is Mike working tonight?”

  “Yeah. He’s in the back.”

  “Do you know how late he’ll be?”

  The women looked at a dry-erase board on the wall to her right. “Looks like ’til nine. Fifteen minutes. Probably hanging up his chef’s cap right about now.” She squinted. “You want me to get him?”

  “Oh no. I’ll catch up with him later.” Steve started to leave and then turned back. “I haven’t seen him in a long time. Did he get those curls cut off?”

  “Curls?” The young woman rolled her eyes. “I’ve never known him to have curls. If my hair were as straight as his, I wouldn’t need any hair products or a flatiron. He has new glasses too. Huge brown frames from Europe.” She smiled. “They’re nice.”

  Steve laughed. “Thanks. Have a good evening.” He started eating the cookie as soon as he left. Certainly not the best dinner but all he could do for now. At least it was some nourishment to keep his stomach from growling. Two storefronts down from the bakery would be as far as he would venture. He didn’t want to miss Mike.

  It didn’t take long. He wasn’t hard to recognize with his straight brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and dark-framed glasses. Steve turned toward the storefront until Mike passed by and then followed him.

  He walked down the main well-lit avenue for blocks before going down a darkened side street full of row houses and old apartment buildings. He turned up the walkway to the second apartment building and pulled keys from his front pocket. After opening the door, he disappeared in a flash.

  Steve stood to the side of the building away from the road. He tried to see which apartment might be Mike’s within these five stories. No new lights went on within the next few minutes from what he could tell. Once he saw the fire escape, his decision was made. Time for a little shapeshifting.

  He looked closely at the dark building next door and across the street. There appeared to be nothing going on in the small front yards. Moving in between the apartment and the building next door, he sat his messenger bag on the ground. As he peered through a first-floor window, there was no indication that anyone was home. No lights in the room, the hallway or beyond. He quickly undressed and placed his clothes inside the top of his bag, pushing it under a bush with his foot.

  Steve was a shapeshifting member of the domestic dog family. All he had to do was concentrate and visualize what type of pooch he wanted to be and things happened quickly. It always started with his eyes. This time they became almond-shaped and dark-brown with a bright and cheerful expression.

  Falling to the ground on all fours, he shifted quickly, muscles and bones changing throughout his body. His body shrank, bones popped and white fur with tan markings appeared. The first sound Steve uttered was a high-pitched, yappy bark that needed to be reined in immediately, as he now carried the temperament and abilities of the dog he wanted to be. In this case he padded on four paws as an energetic Jack Russell Terrier.

  He glanced around him, but saw nothing to put him on alert. Definitely no large dogs on the loose looking for trouble or cats with an attitude. His nose tilted upward to breathe in the fresh, cool night air. A dog howled in the distance, but was far enough away that it didn’t matter.

  As he jumped with one fluid movement onto the first fire escape platform, he stayed still for a moment to make sure safety wasn’t an issue. There was noise inside the second-story apartment. He peered through the slats of the blinds on the large, double-hung window. A woman and child could be seen watching television in the neighboring room but there was no sign that Chef Mike lived here. Steve moved up the stairs to the third and fourth floors without any luck. Once he made it to the fifth-floor platform, he hit the jackpot.

  Not only did he see Mike, but possibly the fugitive Herman Fleming as they conversed in the living room. A drop of drool ran down his chin. If this was Herman, he was even more handsome than his picture. Thick, wavy dark hair and muscular shoulders and arms. Just as he’d picture the firefighter of his dreams.

 
He would be a hard man to resist and Steve didn’t think he could if given the chance. Normally, attractive fugitives didn’t bother him but there was something different about Herman. Something familiar. Was it his furrowed brow and way he paced that reminded him of someone? Herman wasn’t angry but appeared to be frustrated. Steve listened but could barely make out what they were saying.

  “Stay as long as you want,” affirmed Mike. “We don’t care.”

  “I hate that the police already came to talk to you at work. I should have never used my cell phone to call you.”

  Mike put his head down. “They’ve already been here too, Herman. I told them you said goodbye. You didn’t tell me where you were going.”

  “I’m sorry to bring you into this. I appreciate your faith in me but I can’t hide forever.” Herman shook his head. “I don’t know what to do. How can I prove I’m innocent when I’m hiding?”

  “But you can’t find the killer if you’re in jail.”

  “I know.” Herman fell into a chair and placed his hands on his cheeks. “I’m such a lousy son. I didn’t even go to his memorial service.”

  “You’d have been there in shackles. You did the right thing. I’m sure your dad would forgive you.”

  A small brown cat sauntered into the room and immediately looked toward the window with questioning eyes.

  Instead of a confession, Steve heard the opposite. But it wasn’t his job to believe or not. His job was to bring Herman in. While he debated what to do next, one of his hind legs slipped on the fire escape’s steel grating. A screech involuntarily shot from his mouth.

  “What was that?” Herman looked alarmed as he glanced toward the window.

  The cat in the house loudly hissed.

  “I didn’t hear anything.” Mike shrugged. “Just my cat acting out at every little noise. Don’t freak out on me, dude. Amelia will be home soon and she’s in a whole different place, being pregnant.”

  As the men resumed their conversation and moved to another room, Steve decided to keep a low profile until he thought things through. It might take him all night to figure out what to do. The words he heard definitely bothered him.