Wriggle & Sparkle: The Collected Tales of a Kraken and a Unicorn by Megan Derr (3)

Anderson stopped in front of his desk, absently setting his bag on the floor as he grinned at the small pink pastry box topped with a glittery rainbow ribbon. A small purple enveloped was tucked under the ribbon. Anderson slipped it free, pulled out the card inside—and laughed as a whole lot of glitter spilled out across his desk and the floor in front of it.

He really should have anticipated that.

In glittery pink pen, all the more absurd with Lynn's brisk penmanship, were the words Happy Birthday to the sparkliest unicorn to ever sparkle. And the whole mess was surrounded by shiny foil heart stickers.

Lynn must have been beyond thrilled with himself as he picked everything out in the stationery shop. He'd likely giggled the whole time and alarmed the store employees. It had probably driven him crazy that he couldn't call Anderson and brag about his accomplishments. No doubt he'd recount the whole thing later that night.

Setting the card aside, Anderson opened the pastry box. Ooooh, cupcakes. Four large vanilla cupcakes with buttercream frosting and enough rainbow sprinkles to outfit a child's birthday party. He picked one of the cupcakes out, peeled away the wrapper—oh, confetti cupcakes, bonus! Anderson grinned and chomped, licked frosting from his lips.

"I will never understand how you can eat that much sugar at eight thirty in the freaking morning." Rudy, Anderson's partner, set a mug full of hot chocolate next to the pastry box, then settled down at his own desk, right up against Anderson's so they faced each other. He held his mug of coffee like it was a small child, and drank it like he was going to die without it. Coffee addicts were the most ridiculous addicts.

Anderson scoffed. "How can you not?" He took another bite, sucked frosting off his thumb. Taking a third bite, he held on to the cupcake with his teeth and quickly used a piece of paper to get the worst of the glitter off his desk. The boss was going to kill him, but whatever. Sitting down, he quickly finished off the cupcake and chased it with hot chocolate.

He was just pondering a second cupcake when his cell rang. Grinning, impressed Lynn had taken as long as he had, Anderson accepted the call. "Good morning, Wriggly."

"Did you get them?" Lynn demanded.

"No, I didn't get anything. You should probably send over a full dozen just to make sure they reach me the second time. More sprinkles."

Lynn laughed. "I'm not putting you in a sugar coma on your birthday. Not until after you get all your presents, anyway."

"Oooh, I like the sound of all." Anderson pulled out another cupcake and began to nibble around the edges of it between sentences. "What else did you get me?"

"You'll find out."

"Must be big plans, given you wore the charcoal Canali today." He could practically see Lynn preen that Anderson had noticed and correctly identified his suit. Honestly, the cutest thing about Lynn was that he was so stupidly easy to make happy. The man was a puppy: he just wanted attention, any attention at all. Anderson was sixty-three percent certain Lynn enjoyed Anderson's birthday more than he did.

"Of course it's big plans—do I have any other kind?"

Anderson smiled. "True. Thank you for the cupcakes, by the way. They're perfect, of course."

"They had damn well better be. Wait until you see what we're doing for lunch, I—" he broke off, snapped at somebody Anderson could only barely hear. Lynn huffed in his melodramatic way and said, "Sparkleson, I'll call you back. I've got some whiny know-it-all in a supermarket suit demanding I explain the obvious to him."

"Don't kill anyone before breakfast," Anderson replied. "Love you, bye." He set his phone on his desk and finished off his second cupcake.

Rudy snorted softly in amusement. "Stop being so cute and happy, unicorn. It makes it hard for the rest of us to wallow in our misery."

"Shut up and eat a cupcake."

Laughing, Rudy obediently took one of the two remaining cupcakes, but only set it aside on his desk. Anderson didn't know how he resisted. Cupcakes were meant to be eaten, no matter what time of day it was. Catching Anderson's look, Rudy grinned. "I'll eat it after lunch. My stomach can't take so much sweet this early. I'll stick to my yogurt with granola and strawberries." He laughed when Anderson wrinkled his nose. "Eat your cupcake, unicorn, and stop judging me."

Rudy was small for an ogre, who tended toward large even in their human forms. Rather than looking as though he should be on a defensive line somewhere, Rudy looked instead like someone had taken a list of librarian stereotypes and tried to cram as many of them into Rudy as possible. His hair was an exception, cut close to his scalp, though Anderson knew he'd worn it in a 'fro before joining the force. He had glasses, wore slacks, colorful, patterned button-downs, and cardigans. He always had a book on hand, spent his breaks and weekends reading, visiting museums (Anderson had thought that was a joke the first five times Rudy had told him), and every couple of weeks he managed to lose or destroy another pair of glasses.

He was quiet, still, and sweet. Anderson had no idea how the fuck someone so nice had wound up in the pit of basilisks that White Collar had proven to be. Even Lynn liked Rudy, and he'd reached extra-special levels of petulant, possessive brat at the idea of Anderson getting a new partner.

Anderson was already dreading the fights that would someday come when they had to pick schools and such for their kids. Thankfully, that was a bridge they wouldn't be crossing for a few years yet. "So what are we doing today?"

"Paperwork, phone calls. Figured we'd keep it light since your boyfriend is plotting things and I have no desire to be the one who disrupts those plots. I have a strong preference for not being dead."

Anderson snorted. "His Royal Majesty should not be indulged too often—it just goes to his head."

"Look, just because you get to live every time you piss that dude off does not mean the rest of us are so lucky, unicorn. Those tentacles are only fun if you're dating a kraken."

Grinning, Anderson picked up his hot chocolate and got his computer going, pulling up the reports he'd been putting off finishing and the list of people he needed to call to chip away at some other cases.

The hardest adjustment in switching from Violent Crimes to White Collar was the chipping. Going after cannibal-leaning unicorns and brownies who'd gone insane and started in with the stabbing was so much easier than trying to root out a vampire stealthily stealing funds from his employers or a band of selkies engaging in some truly impressive identity fraud.

So far he'd only had one case that felt like any sort of victory had been achieved. He and Rudy had spent three months trying to pin down a highly talented forger creating special permission papers for paranormals who, for various and sundry reasons, should not have those papers. Paranormals, and where they could live, work, etc., were tightly regulated. Too many of one kind (vampires for example) could cause problems noticeable enough to draw attention from ordinaries. There were also long standing feuds, environments that could be particularly dangerous to certain paranormals (try putting Lynn in a desert, see what happened).

When those paranormals came with a criminal record, or other marks upon their record, things got even trickier. Nothing caused more headaches than a person capable of forging the paperwork that kept everyone sorted and more or less behaving.

The most irritating part of that case was that it had been a regular old human all along—just one who had been married to a gorgon, which were always so much fun to deal with. If Anderson never got turned to stone again he would die a happy unicorn. At least it had only been a partial job. Poor Rudy had gotten turned fully to stone and spent two weeks recovering.

"I'm going to kill that stupid fucking asshole!"

Anderson looked up and swiveled around in his chair at the familiar, dulcet tones of Martinez being pissed off about something. Probably the elevator stubbed his toe or somebody looked at him funny.

He came barreling down the center of the office and threw himself dramatically into his chair, two desks down and across the aisle from Anderson and Rudy. He was red-faced and practically smoking. Dragons. They were the redheads of the paranormal world, except the 'fiery' bit was way more literal in addition to being a tacky stereotype.

Martinez's partner came up, placed a hand on his shoulder, and bent to speak quietly to him. Because the Bureau liked to operate on dark-ages logic and stereotypes, they had paired the dragon with a Yeti. The best part of that pair was Becky's 6'1", grew up playing hockey in Somewhere, Canada, frame next to Angelo 'pocket dragon' Martinez.

"What's wrong this time, Martinez?" Anderson called out. "Somebody step on your toes?"

"Fuck you, Meadows." Martinez scowled at his desk. "I was just trying to get some information clarified with Violent Crimes, and that smarmy, snotty squid had to be as obnoxious as possible about it. I'm going to turn him into calamari, right after I make him eat his stupid Gucci suit."

"Canali," Anderson said before he could stop himself. He winced as Becky, Martinez, and most of the rest of the people in the office turned to glared at him. "Sorry, sorry. It's habit. I've been corrected enough times, it's kind of a life-saving reflex to help others. You do not want to get his suits wrong, especially when he's having a bad day."

Martinez looked at him like he was a creepy bug in need of squishing. "I keep forgetting you date that obnoxious son of a bitch. He must be one hell of a fuck, but then again, I know exactly what kind of unicorn you are."

Anderson was on his feet before he really registered moving, and it was only Rudy climbing over their desks and grabbing him, exhibiting all of the ogre strength not apparent in his small frame, that kept Anderson from separating Martinez's head and neck. "That's harassment, Martinez."

"Oh, so it's okay when your squid harasses me, but I state a fact about you and that's not okay."

"Like it's any less a fact that you're a know-it-all asshole in a cheap, badly fitted suit," Anderson snapped.

"Better an asshole that a stupid slut who's slept with half the Bureau."

Anderson jerked free of Rudy, shooting him a look that said he would stay put. Rudy made a face and didn't move. Turning back to Martinez, Anderson smiled and replied, "If you were less of an asshole, Martinez, you wouldn't have to pay for your dates by the hour."

There was definitely smoke that time, and even a bit of scale, as Martinez's rage and instincts fought the stabilizers in his ring. Anderson braced himself as Martinez made to lunge, even as Rudy and Becky tried to hold them both in place.

"Enough!"

They all jumped at the sound of the boss's voice. Hadley Stern was nobody to fuck with. "Can't I leave you children alone for ten minutes?" He jabbed a finger at Martinez, then his desk. "Sit." Turning to Anderson, he said, "Ass in the chair. If you think I won't put the two of you in a corner, you are mistaken."

"This wouldn't happen if Anders and his stupid boyfriend weren't a bag of attitude problems."

Stern stared coolly until Martinez dropped his gaze. "Just because your daddy plays politics doesn't mean your attitude problems get immunity."

Except that was exactly what it meant, and everyone in the office knew it. Stern tried to do his job and treat everyone fairly, but every time he wrote Martinez up, it played out the same way: Stern got overruled by the higher-ups, Martinez got to keep being an asshole, and the rest of them had to keep putting up with it.

Anderson waited until Stern had vanished back into his office, then picked up his phone and quickly texted, What did you do to piss of Martinez?

Is that ugly suit's name?

Yeah.

He asked me about some notes in the Worthington file. I told him he was lighting a fire under the wrong tree. He disagreed.

"Anders."

"No Anders here," Anderson snapped, looking up at Temple. "It's Anderson."

Temple shrugged irritably. "How about you tell your boyfriend to be nicer to people? Would it kill him to stop being a jerk to coworkers?"

"I tell you what, Temple. When you can get my name right, and Martinez stops calling me a slut, and the rest of the team starts doing more than standing around like yuppies whenever he acts like a dick, maybe I'll say something. Until then, you can go be a jerk somewhere else."

"I can so see why you're dating him," Temple muttered as he threw his hands up and strode off.

What did they expect him to say? Because that seemed pretty damned obvious to him. Did they think he was all love and light and just overlooked Lynn's so-called attitude problems? Sorry, he was not the sunshine that turned Lynn from thorns to roses. He was more like thunder to Lynn's lightning.

Anderson stared hard at his last cupcake, but resisted. The way his day was going, he was going to need it later. Possibly for a murder weapon.

"Aww, don't let them ruin your birthday," Rudy said, and Anderson looked up with a smile. "Here." Rudy pushed a small box across their desks, covered in shiny foil wrapping paper depicting unicorns, balloons, and streamers.

"Does everybody buy wrapping paper for my gifts in the kiddie section?"

"Probably." Rudy grinned. "It's just too tempting, who could resist?"

Rolling his eyes, Anderson pulled the gift close and quickly tore the paper away. He grinned when he saw it was one of Rudy's jewelry boxes. Rudy earned a tidy sum selling the jewelry he made on the weekends and between books. Not the kind of work associated with an ogre, but then again, there were reasons stereotypes were one of the biggest problems in paranormal circles.

He opened, grin growing brighter as he took in the earrings and matching bracelet. The earrings were red and purple pansies, the bracelet an entire string of colors. "Thank you."

Rudy smiled shyly, then turned back to his computer and resumed working. Anderson removed the pearl studs he was wearing and put in the poppies, then fastened the bracelet around his wrist.

"Does your boyfriend know you're cheating on him?"

Ignoring Martinez, because seriously, jewelry from his friend who made jewelry did not an affair equal, Anderson stowed the empty box in his desk and tried to focus on his own work. His very tedious, draining work. White Collar was not shaping up to be what he had anticipated at all. Even his coworkers were mostly duds. If not for Rudy and Stern, Anderson would have set the whole place on fire a month ago and framed Martinez for it.

He may still if the idiot didn't stop whispering about him and trashing Lynn.

Really, though, he might just finally give up and admit he didn't like his job much anymore, period. Between Lynn almost getting dead, getting half-turned to stone himself, the fact he'd been moved around and transferred and written up and every-fucking-thing else more times than he cared to count…

There was a lot about the work itself he still liked, but he wasn't sure he loved the job anymore. But he also didn't know what the fuck else he was supposed to do. He'd never bothered to figure out a back-up career; the Bureau had always seemed like the place he'd be forever.

He also hadn't even come close to telling Lynn he was thinking of quitting entirely. That was a conversation to be avoided for as long as possible because apparently he did not learn from mistakes.

Shoving the stressful thoughts aside again, he focused on pounding out a couple of reports and emailed them to Rudy to look over for him. He picked up his mug, frowned when he realized it was empty. "I'm going for another hot chocolate; you want a refill on your coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks man," Rudy looked up briefly to smile, concentration never breaking as he typed at approximately five thousand words a minute.

Anderson grabbed their mugs and headed for the breakroom. Some asshole had left the coffee pot empty, so he set that to brewing and dug his hot chocolate mix out of the cabinet. It was a fancy Swiss chocolate that Lynn had gotten him somewhere never specified. Probably some overpriced boutique that sold import everything at a 300% markup that he'd been pointed to by his sister.

Because Lynn did not do anything by half. It was one of the most kraken things about him.

He had just started to heat up milk when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

You should sneak up to the twenty-sixth floor.

That was the floor closed for renovation, after the law firm that had occupied it had gone down in figurative flames. Specifically, sexual flames sordid enough for three soap operas and two daytime talk shows. Why in the world did Lynn want to meet him there? Anderson snorted. Like that was actually hard to guess, though it wasn't like Lynn to risk his suits, even for sex. He'd risk his job, yeah, but not his suits.

Ditching the breakroom, Anderson hit the stairs and climbed the two stories to the twenty-sixth floor. It smelled of plaster, dust, and paint. It was mostly torn down walls, tarps, and plastic sheeting, with odd pockets of offices that had been left untouched.'

"There you are."

Anderson turned, saw Lynn standing in the doorway of one of the intact offices. Ugh, the stupid jerk never stopped being beautiful. Anderson kept thinking he'd get used to it, but he wound up staring like a halfwit every single time. The first time he'd seen Lynn, he hadn't been able to think for a minute, was certain there was some mistake because no way would the dark ages gremlins in HR stick a delicate little unicorn with a goddamn kraken.

Lynn was haughty and hostile, snide and sharp-edged. But he was also ninety percent bark, far too sweet when he thought no one was looking, and so devoted, he'd nearly ruined everything between them by assuming the worst and panicking. Anderson had a sneaking suspicion their wedding was already planned, even though no one was even thinking of proposing yet.

The bad mood that had been building faded as Lynn smiled at him, drew him in for a long, warm and thorough kiss that tasted like coffee and cheese danish. "Hey, handsome," Anderson said when they finally drew apart. "Not where I expected to be seeing you today."

"You sounded stressed. Martinez needs to stop inhaling his own smoke. Or just stop breathing—I'm not picky."

Anderson laughed, idly stroking his fingers along the front of Lynn's suit. He did love the way Lynn filled out his expensive clothing. "So how are you going to relax me?"

"Stop asking stupid questions," Lynn said with a scowl.

Heh. Anderson knew that look. He stopped petting Lynn's chest in favor of reaching around to cop a feel of Lynn's ass. "I like where I think this is going."

Lynn grinned, pulled him into the office, and pushed him up against the dark, heavy drapes covering the windows. He then proceeded to kiss Anderson nice and filthy, using his tongue with all the slick, sinuous skill only a kraken could muster. He was so fucking good at it, Anderson almost didn't notice when Lynn undid his pants.

He would have to be dead to not notice when those long, clever fingers pulled his cock out and wrapped tightly around it, got him eager and impatient in a matter of heartbeats.

If there was anything prettier than the sight of Lynn sliding to his knees and swallowing Anderson's cock, he never wanted to know about it. He groaned, head thunking against the covered window as Lynn sucked his cock in earnest, putting those lips and that evil, evil tongue to work, pretty green eyes looking up at Anderson through long, dark lashes. "You're evil, Wriggly. The best, best kind of evil." He fisted the drapes with one hand, combed the other through Lynn's hair before gripping it tightly. That mouth just grew more intent, left his body coiled tight and his brain melted. Lynn's fingers bit into his hips, held Anderson firmly in place as he continued to suck like there was nothing he'd rather do. Anderson barely let go of the drapes in time to muffle his cry as he came.

When his brain finally came back online, it was to soft kisses being pressed across his face. He dragged Lynn into a wet, sloppy kiss, biting and sucking at those delectable lips until they looked even more used than sucking cock had made them. Drawing back, he dropped his hands to Lynn's fly and pouted when Lynn stopped him. "Not going to let me return the favor? It's my birthday. I'm pretty sure that means I can have whatever I want."

Lynn kissed his nose, drew back with a faint smirk. "We've been missing long enough, Sparkleson. I promise you'll get your turn, and more than once. There are plenty of treats planned for today."

"Fine," Anderson groused. "Lunch at the usual time?"

"Yep. Meet me in the lobby. Rudy's coming too." Lynn kissed him one last time, then stepped away to fix his clothes and hair. "How do I look?"

"Like you were just fucking around in the janitor's closet." He reached out and fussed with Lynn's tie, fixed the black and silver tie bar that featured a little sea monster attacking a ship. It never stopped being funny all the octopus, squid, and kraken accessories that Lynn managed to acquire. With most other people, it would start to get absurd, but Lynn somehow managed to make it endearing. Charmingly absurd, maybe. He was biased, he couldn't help it. "There. Almost perfect."

Lynn glared. "Almost? What the fuck do you mean almost? I'm not almost perfect."

Grinning, Anderson flicked his nose and replied, "Sorry, but I am firmly of the opinion that you naked and wriggly is true perfection, and everything else is second best."

In the span of a blink, Lynn went from scowl to the too-cute-to-think boyish grin Anderson adored, though it quickly turned into the smugness that Anderson found hotter than he would ever admit. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Sparkleson."

"Because I flatter and insult you in equal measure and that's what does it for you?"

Lynn leaned in and kissed him again, a soft press of lips there and gone before Anderson could appreciate it properly. "Let's go before I decide you really need to fuck me now and we both get fired. Although I'm tempted to do it just to see the looks on their faces when they have to write out why we were fired."

"I am not getting fired because of a blowjob, forget it." Anderson reached out and gave Lynn's ass a hard pinch before bolting to the stairs, sniggering at the bellow of outrage that chased after him.

He paused outside his floor to straighten his clothes and hair, then slipped back inside and returned to the breakroom. The mugs were exactly where he'd left them, and the freshly brewed coffee was untouched, so it looked as though he had gotten away clean. Fixing his hot chocolate and Rudy's coffee, he returned to the office.

Rudy's desk was vacant, but a quick glance around found him standing by the copier talking to Stern. As ever, Rudy's crush was adorably obvious, and Stern's stiff, formal demeanor amusingly so. Anderson was 97% certain the only reason they weren't together was that Stern was too good a person to get involved with an employee.

Pulling out his phone again, Anderson quickly texted: Are you still struggling to keep a partner?

Like that's changed since last Friday?

Yeah, that hadn't been pretty. Anderson wasn't certain who had thought pairing Lynn with a gargoyle was going to end well. Those dudes were so by the book it was no wonder they comprised most of the internal affairs division. Miracles can happen. I have an idea. We'll discuss it later.

Why are you thinking about finding me a partner when you should be thinking about fucking me?

Ignoring that, Anderson put his phone in his top desk drawer and made himself concentrate on work.

He'd managed to finish up three more straggling reports before Rudy finally returned looking both elated and dejected. Anderson looked over his shoulder, double checked the office was basically deserted, and grinned as he caught Stern watching Rudy.

Stern turned sharply away the moment he noticed Anderson, vanishing into his office and closing the door. Anderson eyed Rudy thoughtfully, liking the plan he was slowly forming more and more.

"Don't," Rudy said, not even bothering to look up. "Whatever you're going to say, don't. Also don't think I didn't notice how long it took you to get our drinks. You and Lynn are less subtle in your shenanigans than Martinez and his rampant bigotry."

"Oh, I disagree. Nothing is more obvious than Martinez and his issues, especially when I'm in the room."

Rudy snorted, mouth twitching, and he finally dragged his eyes up. One eye was dark blue, the other brown, an ogre thing that let them read the earth in special ways to find water, food, anticipate earthquakes, and the like. Not terribly useful in the face of technology, but it had its moments.

"Theoretically speaking," Anderson continued, "what are your thoughts on transferring downstairs to Violent Crimes?"

Rudy stared at him, blinked slowly, shrugged. "Um. It's what I tried for initially, way way back in the day. But you know how the head suits are."

Anderson shared a commiserating grimace. Like unicorns, ogres were 'too nice and gentle' for something as gruesome as examining dead bodies or shooting people. Ogres were simultaneously huge, looming monsters that could toss SUVs like baseballs and the hippies of the paranormal world. Unless they were deranged ogres, in which case they started in with the baby eating and beanstalks.

"If you did transfer, do you think you could work with Lynn?"

"Yeah, sure. He's not nearly as mean and crazy as everyone says. Unless you piss him off, but the same goes for you. The trick to Lynn is that he's easily distracted by compliments. Also, he's worth the hassle anyway because he's really good at his job. Have you seen all the cases he's closed? Of course, you have. He's kind of moved into legend ever since he killed that crazy man-eating dragon six months back… But you know all this better than me. Even if he was evil, I've had worse partners." He made a face at Martinez's desk, then looked glumly at his own before slowly dragging his eyes back up to meet Anderson's gaze. "It's probably stupid, but… until you joined up, I didn't realize how rotten it had gotten around here. It's like I got used to the misery in such tiny increments that I never noticed it. Seeing it through your eyes…"

"Yeah, this place turned shitty fast," Anderson said with a sigh. "It seemed so promising when I interviewed." He swallowed the last, cooled dregs of his hot chocolate. "Can I tell you something in total confidence?"

Rudy nodded.

"I'm thinking of quitting. Completely. I'm kind of done with this job lately, even though I still like the work itself. But I hate to leave you here wallowing. So I was thinking you could transfer downstairs and work with Lynn, if you wanted. I can tell you Comber would take you in a heartbeat, and beat in whatever heads necessary, to sign on an agent who requested to work with Lynn."

"You wouldn't mind?" Rudy asked.

Anderson smiled. "What, because you two would become close? Nah, I'm not that fragile. At least I'd know you'd have each other's backs. Of course, I still have to tell Lynn all of this. So, you know. Don't start transferring today. Think about it and stuff, though." He grinned. "Especially the part where Stern will no longer be your boss and you can finally act on all that sexual tension between the two of you."

"Ha," Rudy said glumly. "I think he'll be glad to be rid of the pathetic fawning ogre always blundering after him to flirt with all the grace and subtlety of a drunk satyr."

"Obviously you've never actually met a drunk satyr," Anderson replied dryly. "Believe me, you're not that bad. You keep your clothes on, for one. Anyway, Stern's just as 'pathetic' with his silent brooding act, trust me. I find the pining from afar in stoic, angsty silence way more hilarious."

Rudy eyed him, doubt warring with hope. "You think?"

"I'm a slutty unicorn with more exes than I can count, haven't you heard? I have a bit of experience with longing looks and sexual tension."

"I've always been pretty sure he hates me."

Anderson let out a sharp laugh. "No. If he did not have actual ethics and shit, never mind the looming shadow of HR, then you would be able to tell me if the rumors of centaur stamina are true." He waggled his eyes brows and grinned as Rudy groaned, buried his head in his arms, and made a valiant effort to sink into his desk.

When he finally sat up again, he made a face at Anderson before shuffling his work and retrieving his pen. "Do you know whenever I hear people talking about unicorn modesty and virtue I start laughing so hard I have to excuse myself?"

"Shut up and get back to work." They shared a grin, and then both did return to work, slogging through reports and emails and phone calls until they could finally abandon their desks for lunch.

Ten minutes to lunch, the scent of a familiar cologne wafted over him, completely ruining his ability to do math. Anderson immediately dropped his pen on the financial reports he'd been attempting to sort out, spun around in his chair, and stood up to wrap his arms around Lynn's neck and kiss him quickly but firmly. "Hi. I thought I was meeting you in the lobby."

"I got impatient," Lynn replied, not even trying to hide his smugness at such an enthusiastic greeting.

"You, impatient?"

Lynn just kept smiling. "Ready for lunch?"

"Please, for the love of god, say yes," Martinez bit out.

Just for that, Anderson gave Lynn another kiss before drawing back and grabbing his blazer, shrugging into it as he looked across the desks. "Ready to go, Rudy?"

"Heck yes." Rudy abandoned his own work and stood up, fussing with his dark blue cardigan and glasses before looking up and beaming. "Shall we?"

Lynn led the way from the office, and if he walked around with a little too much lord of the manor in his step, well, whatever. Martinez was a scumbag and Lynn's ass looked good in those slacks.

Out on the street, they started walking south, and it didn't take more than a second to realize where they were headed. Three blocks later they stepped into one of his favorite restaurants, a hole in the wall sandwich shop that also made the best cheesecake in the city. Anderson smiled as they sat, reached across the table to squeeze Lynn's hand. "I guess I'll keep you around a few more days."

Lynn scoffed.

Their usual waitress, Tammy, came up with their drinks. "Same all around?" When they nodded, she smiled and bustled back to the kitchen. Roast beef for Lynn, chicken parm for Anderson, and turkey bacon for Rudy.

"So where's my present?"

"Greedy, greedy," Lynn replied. "You'll get your presents tonight."

Anderson liked the sound of that. "Does one of them involve lace?"

Lynn grinned, one hundred present I am a monster of the deep and I will drag you down into the dark and do wicked things. Anderson shivered and drank his cream soda to cool down.

"Ridiculous," Rudy said, looking between them with a smile before shaking his head. "I will never again believe…" he trailed off, eyes on something at the back of the restaurant.

Anderson turned in his seat and watched as Stern walked toward them, clearly having come from the patio out back. He pulled off his sunglasses and looked around, a frown cutting lines in his face. He saw them and the frown shifted to surprise, then briefly amusement, but it was the concern that settled firmly in place no matter how he tried to hide it with a smile. He tucked his sunglasses into the front pocket of his blazer as he crossed the restaurant to their table. "I'm pretty certain there was a memo sent around last week about not allowing the three of you to congregate. Mostly because you two are a bad influence on my best agent here." He briefly touched Rudy's shoulders.

"Ooohhh, congregate," Lynn replied. "The head suits must be really scared of us if we get a big word. I promise we're congregating peacefully, Agent Stern. Mostly."

Stern lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "Please stay out of trouble. I have enough on my hands at the moment, between a no show witness and the meeting I've got at three with HR thanks to certain altercations this morning." He shot Anderson a look.

Anderson shrugged. "Altercation is a strong word. All we did was snark at each other. Did he use that word? It sounds like his kind of word choice. Anything to make himself the only victim to exist ever. Fuck him. What witness?"

"The Trident case. I finally convinced Annie Edison to talk to us, but she wouldn't come to the office and didn't want me darkening her doorstep again. I suggested we meet somewhere she felt comfortable, and she suggested we meet here…" He looked at his watch. "Twelve minutes ago." He sighed. "I'll leave you to your lunch. I didn't mean to come over here and whine at you while you're celebrating. Happy Birthday, Anderson."

"Thanks, boss."

Stern nodded and walked off to the bar located at the front end of the restaurant. The woman running it slid a drink and a plate piled high with an open-faced sandwich across to him. Stern smiled brightly at her before pulling out his phone and putting all his attention on it.

Next to Lynn, Rudy had gone somewhat glum. Anderson kicked him under the table. Rudy jumped. "Remember the plan." He snickered when Rudy glared.

Lynn looked between them, at Stern, then back at Rudy as Tammy came out of the kitchen with their food. When she'd gone again, he said, "What's the plan? Does it involve kidnapping and handcuffs? Because my money says he'd prefer leather cuffs but otherwise would be up for it."

"Oh, my god, I hate you both. So much." Rudy buried his face in his hands.

Anderson and Lynn laughed, then Anderson spent a couple of minutes putting a dent in his sandwich. "Why am I dating you when I could have whoever made this sandwich?"

"Leaving aside the filthy, perverted reasons, you can't have her. She's married to a griffon, and probably wouldn't put up with your smart mouth anyway."

"She totally shot you down, didn't she?" Anderson said.

Lynn smiled, shrugged. "Never hurts to ask. Worst they can say is no. Hasn't killed me yet."

"Well at least we get the sandwiches." He stole Lynn's pickle and handed over most of his own kettle chips. "I'm pretty sure I'm still due something naughty for lunch, and my mind hasn't changed since our talk earlier."

Rudy snorted. "Talk. Is that what the kids are calling it now? I think the only common denominator is your mouth."

Anderson choked on his sandwich while Lynn accidentally inhaled soda. When he was done coughing and could mostly breathe properly again, Anderson glared. "You don't make dirty jokes."

"Shows what you know," Rudy replied. "Now knock it off."

"Yes, boss," Lynn muttered, but he was smirking and shooting Rudy the odd approving look as he finished eating.

Anderson licked a stray bit of marinara from his thumb, then wiped his hands and pushed his plate away. "So dessert now?"

Lynn's bright, mischievous, pleased-with-himself expression overtook his face. Before Anderson could figure out the reason, a whole crowd of people came bursting through the kitchen door. Tammy led the group across the restaurant, holding what proved to be an enormous rainbow cheesecake.

When they gathered around the table and started singing Happy Birthday, Anderson kicked Lynn. Hard. Lynn just sang cheerfully along, and when it was finished, tugged Anderson across the table for a very not-appropriate-for-public kiss. "Revenge," Anderson promised. To everyone else he said, "Thank you very much. That looks delicious."

After they'd all chatted for a bit and returned to the kitchen, Anderson turned to look at the front of the restaurant and called out, "Boss! You should come have a piece."

"Sure," Stern replied. He dropped money on the bar beside his own lunch and strode over to their table. "Thanks." Taking the plate Rudy held out, he slowly worked his way through the cheesecake, chatting between bites, pausing occasionally to take out his phone and frown.

"Bad vibes?" Anderson asked.

Stern made a face. "Yes, unfortunately. No good reason for it. The guy we're after is long gone and left no trail. We're just grasping at straws, but as reticent as she's been, I'm sort of hoping she's the needle." He finished the cheesecake and set the plate down, pulled out his phone, and tried calling her again. After a couple of minutes, he shoved the phone back in his pocket. "Thanks again for the cheesecake. I've got to go. Edison isn't answering her phone and that's not like her. Tell HR I may not make the meeting?"

"Do you want me to tag along?" Anderson asked, eating the last couple of bites of his own cheesecake.

Stern hesitated, then slowly shook his head. "You should enjoy your birthday. This is probably going to be a long, frustrating afternoon."

"I don't mind, and I'm pretty good at dealing with stubborn people."

"It's all the sparkles. They overwhelm and confuse people," Lynn said.

Anderson flipped him off. "I really don't mind. It's important we speak to her, right?" He looked at Lynn. "Do you mind?"

"Stupid question. If you screw up my plans, I just get to punish you instead of lavish you with presents. I'm not picky."

Standing, Anderson leaned over the table and kissed him. "Love you. I'll call you when I know more about how long I'll be gone and such. Stay out of trouble." He clapped Rudy on the shoulder, stole a second piece of cheesecake, then followed Stern out of the restaurant and back toward their office building. "So tell me more about this case, 'cause I'm not actually familiar with it past knowing that you asked Rudy to do some searching for you."

"Are you familiar with Trident Jewelers?"

"As much as anyone else on the street. They're the biggest name around for shifter rings, mostly because they hold the government contracts for them. They do the standard issue ones, but they're best known for all their fancy custom ones. Whatever other normal jewelry they do, their money is made on shifters."

Stern nodded. "Correct." He increased his pace as they reached their building, walking around it to the parking garage entrance, up to the second level where he stopped by a dark green charger. Once they were both settled, he drove out of the garage and headed northeast out of the city. "The problem is that they might not be in business much longer. Their Vice CFO has vanished off the face of the planet, near as anyone can tell, and he took a grand total of half a billion with him."

"How did he run off with that much money?"

"We don't know," Stern replied. "He moved it so slowly, and in such small amounts, that it was easy for him to bury it. The weird thing is that he probably could have kept going for quite a while yet. We're not even sure we've found all the missing money. No one knew the money was missing until he didn't show up for work a month ago. His secretary called him, but he's been known to sleep in and not hear his phone after a long night, so she didn't worry about it until around one o'clock when he missed an important meeting. That's when everything slowly started going insane. They called us in and we spent forever just trying to find the money and hope it led us to him. No dice on that one, though. The money's gone, he's gone. We were about to basically give up when we stumbled across a possible break."

"Annie Edison."

Stern nodded. "She quit a month before everything went to hell, three days after getting a promotion she'd really wanted. Didn't even show up, just sent a letter of resignation and never talked to anyone again. Some emails she wrote but never sent had been deleted, but were still on her computer. They all mention some weirdness in accounts she had just been put in charge of, some new lines of normal jewelry and one brand new line for shifter rings. Two days after she wrote the emails, she quit. Everyone thought something had gone wrong with her ex, who worked in a different department. But no one knew for sure, and she wouldn't see anyone. Then it sort of lapsed, as things always do." He made a face. "A few weeks later shit blew up, but it was only four days ago that someone remembered her. We found the emails, and have been trying to get her to talk to us ever since."

"Sounds thin."

"Thin is better than nothing, which is what we have without her."

"Fair enough. But this is starting to sound more and more like a case for my old department."

Stern's face pinched. "I really hope this doesn't become something we have to give to Violent Crimes."

Anderson agreed. One of the very few good things about White Collar was that people wound up dead less often. People could get really fucking mean and nasty when money was involved, but usually they just wanted to take it and run. Dead bodies and getting turned to stone were the exceptions, not the rule. "Why steal a few million—okay, a few hundred million—when you're working for a company where you must already make obscene amounts? Never mind the perks that must come with a job like that, and the blind eye the government is always willing to turn so long as they get what they want. Not that I would ever cast aspersions on my noble employer."

"Cast away," Stern said. "You'll get nothing but agreement from me. As to why Drew Myer ran off with half a billion dollars, you got me. But the CEO did inform me that all of this is happening right as the contracts are coming up for renewal. And rumors have been going around that the rings may be superfluous in the near future; research is apparently finally managing implants."

"Che." Anderson stared out the window, watching as they left the city behind and rolled into suburbia. "They've been saying that for almost as long as I've been alive. If it ever proves to be true, I'd rather stay human forever than have an implant forced on me."

"I agree. Won't stop them from creating and pushing the damned things."

Anderson made a face and glance down at his shifter ring. It had been a get well present from Lynn after his had been destroyed in the chaos that got Anderson turned to stone. He'd been seriously pissed off about losing it. That ring hadn't been cheap; he'd saved up for sixteen months to afford it.

Lynn being Lynn, his gift had paled Anderson's old ring. It was two delicate jeweled butterflies, one of rubies, the other of pink diamonds, perched on a flower with opal petals and the shifter gems in the middle, all of it set in white gold. At least it wasn't a little kraken clutching a unicorn because he wouldn't put that past Lynn. Anderson was fairly certain that would be the wedding cake, someday. If not, then he really didn't know his lover at all.

His phone rested heavy in the pocket of his slacks, tempting him to pull it out and harass Lynn—but he didn't want to get distracted.

"You're leaving aren't you?"

Anderson jerked from his thoughts, blinked at Stern. "What do you mean?"

Stern's mouth quirked, and he shot Anderson a quick, wry look before focusing on the road again. "I'm almost forty, Meadows. I've been doing this a long time. I know the look of the ones thinking of walking away for good. Most unicorns don't last anywhere near as long as you—and I'm not talking stereotypes. I'm talking every single unicorn I've ever worked with. You hide it better, but I know how the job wears you guys out. Combined with other events, especially the incident with Lynn… I'm surprised you're still here, honestly. I was thrilled when you chose to come to White Collar. I wish it had worked out better for you."

"I was hoping I'd settle in, too," Anderson said with a sigh. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be sorry. When you're done, you're done. Though I like to think we all might have been happier if Martinez had left like he was meant to." Stern's face turned briefly into a thundercloud. "He was supposed to transfer the day before you started… then called the whole thing off. I had to leave the office before I did something I probably wouldn't regret as much as I should."

Anderson snorted a laugh. "I would have just kept walking until I was home and worked my way through the liquor cabinet."

"I definitely had a headache the next morning," Stern said, making Anderson laugh again. He glanced Anderson's way again briefly. "So what are you going to do?"

"No idea."

"Does Lynn know yet?"

"Nope. Rudy does, though. I… " He hesitated. This was the longest conversation he'd ever had with Stern, and it seemed more like partners than boss-employee. Maybe because he was leaving?

Stern stopped at a sign, frowned at him. "What?"

"I told Rudy he should transfer to Violent Crimes, partner with Lynn, since they actually get along. Rudy said he liked the idea."

An entire movie's worth of emotions flickered across Stern's face, but in the end, all he did was give a slight nod and say, "He'd be good at it."

Anderson grinned but didn't say anything further as they drove through a bunch of postcard-perfect streets and finally pulled into the driveway of a whitebread suburban house. It was run down but well cared for, painted a faded blue with yellow shutters. There was no car in the driveway, but it could be in the garage.

His skin prickled as he climbed out of the car, and a sharp, ugly smell stung his nose. "I smell blood. Relatively fresh." Human form was mostly useless for tracing life residue, but… "I'm getting a faint read of residue, as well. She's been hurt, at the very least."

"Damn." Stern drew his gun and hurried to the door. He tested the lock, called out the necessary warnings. When no reply came, he turned and braced himself against the house right next to the door, then bent his leg and drove it back, breaking in the door.

Anderson drew his own weapon as he reached the porch and followed Stern inside, and they quickly cleared the house. When Stern confirmed the all clear with a nod, Anderson stowed his weapon and headed back to the living room. "There's a burst of residue here."

"Glass is knocked over, and her ereader is lying face down on the carpet. That's not a cheap one, either." Stern crouched down by it, but didn't touch anything. "Her purse was in the hall, just waiting for her to grab it and go. She must have been taken shortly before she headed out to see me."

"I can smell blood, but not where it's coming from," Anderson said. "I don't see any blood at all."

Stern frowned. "I'll call a team in. Keep looking around for clues."

Leaving the living room, Anderson headed to the garage. Annie's car was still there. Well, he assumed it was her car.

His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out, smiling at the demand for information. Case just got weird, probably going to be a bit late. Sorry to screw up your plans.

Yeah, 'cause lace panties are more important than a possibly dead woman. Shut up, Sparkleson. If you're gone all night, I'll just enjoy the cake and champagne myself and text pictures.

Pictures had better include the panties. You in them, specifically.

I'm not sending you naughty pictures during work hours.

Boring.

You're the dirty slut, not me.

Anderson grinned. You say the sweetest things. Now stop distracting me. I'll text you when I figure out what's going on and have a better idea how long I'll be. LYB.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and left the garage and went back out to the front yard. Stern hung up as Anderson reached him, sighing. "I've got a team coming. See anything?"

"Haven't looked much yet, but there's a car in the garage, and I wanted to double check it's hers."

"Green SUV? Toyota, I think. Don't remember the model."

"That is definitely not what's in the garage," Anderson replied. "It's an old blue Honda Civic."

Stern's eyes snapped to the house. "I see. Let's take a closer look." He followed Anderson back into the house and out to the garage. "Do you sense anything?"

"Nothing new. I can shift and take a closer look if you want."

"I would appreciate it." Stern looked around the garage, back to the house. "Something really weird is going on, and I'm liking it less and less by the second."

Anderson stripped off his clothes and piled them neatly in the open doorway to the kitchen. He touched his ring and let the shift overtake him, felt the rush and warmth, the sharp headache as all the little details that he couldn't process in human form slammed into him.

He could barely move in the small, over-crowded garage, but he didn't really need to. His horn thrummed as he cast out to better read the lingering residue. Most of it was faded, dusty, people who had not been there in a long time. There had been blood, but the amount was small. He slowly picked his way to the garbage can, where it seemed to emanate from, worked the lid off—and there it was. Blood, relatively fresh, though again, not a whole lot of it. Like something from a minor cut, or maybe a bloody nose.

But there'd been no evidence of a struggle; the house was perfectly fine so far as that went.

Why was he getting two signatures?

He shifted back and returned to the kitchen doorway. "There were two people here, and one of them was bleeding, but not badly. A faint vibe of… something. Anxiety. Panic. Whoever was here, they took her and went."

"Mm," Stern said, frowning at the car. "But why leave this car and take her SUV? We know what to look for now. That doesn't make any sense. I'll call it in. Keep looking."

Anderson finished knotting his tie and headed back inside. Nothing of interest past the fallen ereader on the first floor. Upstairs there were three rooms. One looked like a guest room, the other had been turned into a sewing room, and the last was the master bedroom.

And it was definitely interesting. Anderson pulled on gloves as he began to poke around. The drawers and closet were mostly empty of clothes, obvious gaps and empty hangers to show where clothes had been. The laundry hamper only had a couple days' worth of clothes, and a search of the rest of the house did not turn them up.

But the luggage stowed in the hall closet was missing a piece that could definitely hold the missing clothes and more besides. He returned to the master bedroom, inspected the bathroom, where items were also missing. Shoes, jewelry… she'd had time to pack. That didn't fit with being kidnapped. But the ereader…

Anderson scowled and headed back downstairs. "I don't think she was kidnapped."

Stern held up a finger as he continued talking on the phone. "Yes, thank you." He ended the call. "The team said they'd be here in another thirty minutes. Traffic is shitty as ever this time of day. What do you mean, she wasn't kidnapped?"

"She packed—packed well. But she left her ereader and the whole vehicle thing makes even less sense."

"We'll figure it out. But if she left willingly, at least there's a chance she's still alive. I'll take that win."

Anderson nodded. "This is the last time I volunteer to help you with anything."

"I am sorry you're missing all the lovely plans your lover made. You can head out if you want. The team will be here soon. I can catch a ride back with them. This case is my problem, not yours."

"Nah, I'd rather know, and I'm not leaving you at a crime scene alone. I'm a brat, not an idiot."

Stern laughed briefly. "I would gladly take an entire team of brats like you. Let's see what the kitchen has to offer. If she had to pack, then I bet she also took food. We can learn something from what's miss…" He stopped at the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. "Who the hell could that be?"

"I'll check," Anderson replied. He strode to the front window, hugging the wall on the far right side, and peeked through the gap in the curtain at the walkway he could just see. "It's Martinez." He glanced at Stern. "Was he sent here?"

"No." Stern shook his head, pressed the pad of his thumb to his top lip. "He's supposed to be on the opposite end of the city right now."

Anderson swore. "Stay here. I'll figure out what the fuck he's doing." He went to the door and yanked it opened before Stern could reply. One of the men with Martinez—there seemed to be two total, three with Martinez—stopped short as he saw Anderson.

"FBI! Freeze!"

"Are you fucking serious?" Anderson demanded. "I'm an agent just like you, asstwist. Knock it off with the 'FBI' crap and stow the gun. I'm reaching for my badge." He pulled it from the inner pocket of his blazer. "BPSI, Agent Anderson Meadows. Who are you? You don't work in my department." He lifted his brows when the man neither replied nor lowered the gun. "Lower the gun."

Martinez came rushing up, pushed the man's arm down. "It's fine. He's an agent. What the fuck are you doing here, Meadows?"

"My job," Anderson replied. "You?"

"My job," Martinez mimicked in a high-pitched tone. "Stern sent me here to collect a witness. Why are you horning in on my case?"

Anderson's brows rose again. He was supposed to be having office sex. With Lynn in panties. Why was he putting up with stupid fucking Martinez instead? The jerk was about to learn fast that unicorns were not anywhere near as peace abiding as stereotypes insisted. "Stern told you to collect this witness?"

"I know you're stupid, Meadows, but usually plain English isn't that hard."

"You know, I don't care that you're a bigoted fuck trumpet, Martinez. I don't even care that you're a jealous prude who calls me a slut because I get it: you're insecure. But if you're going to insult me, it would be vastly more interesting for us both if you at least tried to be more than half-assed about it." He put his badge away and drew his gun, leveled it at them. "You should probably also work on your lying skills while you're at it, because my mother is the most gullible person in the world and she would know you're a fucking liar. Tell me why you're really—

A gunshot made him startle, jerk, dive away as the window nearby shattered. He went down hard on the porch, rolled to his feet, and tried to go for cover behind one of the wide brick columns supporting the porch roof. Pain exploded in his right shoulder, and he saw more than felt his gun fall away. Damn it.

He looked up to see the front door flung open and a man walk out with Stern slung over one shoulder. One of them had gone around the back. Goddammit, he should have anticipated that. Fuckity fucking fuck. He glared as Martinez walked toward him, tried to go for his phone to get out some sort of message.

Martinez lunged in, stamped on his hand, then kicked the phone away. "Forget it, you stupid bitch. I should put a bullet in your dumb face right here, right now."

"Why do I get the feeling you're a goddamned snitch?" Anderson asked. "Fucking shoot me if that's what you want. I'm going to bleed out anyway."

"You wish. No, you're gonna be collateral in case I wind up needing it. Jones, get him. We'll patch him up when we reach the cabin. Is the bitch here?"

"Gone, boss. Looks like that asshole was one step ahead of us. We'll find him."

"We'd better."

Anderson jerked away as the man he assumed was Jones approached. By the smell of him, he was a minotaur. They always smelled like overcooked meat, no matter how much they bathed. Anderson wrinkled his nose. "Don't touch me, you cow-faced asswad."

Jones just laughed. "I heard you had a mouth on you. Must be a hell of a lay for anyone to put up with it." Anderson tried to reply to that, but Jones clapped a damp, acrid-smelling cloth over his mouth and in the span of a heartbeat, the world went black.

He stirred briefly to darkness, surrounded by the smell of people in serious need of a shower, stale cigarettes, and cheap food. They were moving, and on a rough road. Ugh, his head was fucking killing him. Where was he?

His hands were cuffed, the kind used on shifters since too many, like Stern, would just laugh and break ordinary cuffs like they were made of paper. His head felt like somebody had rammed a truck into it. His feet were bound, too, but shifting and wriggling about he figured out two things:

One, he was in a truck or something, packed in like so much luggage amongst other crap, though at least someone had laid down blankets.

Two, Stern was next to him and still out cold.

What in the ever living fucking hell was going on? What did Martinez have to do with the Trident case?

Anderson wasn't particularly inclined toward being a person in distress and in need of rescue, but oh he hoped that if Lynn got to him before he got free, that they were near a large body of water and he got to watch as Lynn almost-drowned the motherfuckers before they were hauled in for questioning.

Nothing to do until they stopped moving and he got a better read on the situation, or Stern woke up and knew more about what was going on.

Settling in as comfortably as he could, Anderson tried to focus on happy thoughts until exhaustion finally pulled him back under.

*~*~*

Lynn scowled at his phone, the messages he had sent, and the glaring lack of replies. That wasn't like Anderson. He always answered eventually, if only to say that he couldn't. Two hours of silence was definitely strange, especially when the last text had been playful and he'd only made mention of weirdness, not danger.

Of course, danger was inherent. Ugh. Being in love did nothing good for his stress levels.

He set his phone down and tried to focus on his work. The very last thing he wanted to do was irritate Anderson by harassing and hovering and overreacting.

Five minutes later, he picked up his phone again, and glared at the continued lack of replies. Damn it, they'd only gone to speak to a witness. That was almost three hours ago, and there'd been nothing but radio silence for the past two. Fuck it, he would just have to piss Anderson off. At least Lynn would know he was alive.

Snatching up the phone, he hit the speed dial for Anderson's number. Straight to voicemail. So Anderson had his phone turned off. That was strange. He'd said the case had gotten weird, but if he was going to shut his phone off, he would have let Lynn know first.

Dropping his phone back on the desk, Lynn snatched up his office phone and punched Rudy's extension.

"This is Travers."

"Rudy, have you heard from Anderson or Stern?"

"No," Rudy said quietly. "Something weird is going on, though. Meet me downstairs."

Lynn hung up, grabbed his phone, and hurried to the elevators. He was surprised when the doors of one chimed open and Rudy stood in the back corner. Stepping into the elevator, Lynn turned and faced the doors, kept silent all the way down to the ground floor. He shoved his hands in his pocket, shifted slightly, felt the press of the tickets resting in the inner pocket of his blazer. They were prime seats for a play Anderson had wanted to see, opening night seats Anderson was convinced had already sold out.

He was supposed to be sexing up a very happy boyfriend right then, but no. First he had to find his boyfriend. Ugh. Sometimes he really fucking hated his job.

At the ground floor, he stepped out of the elevator and wandered over to the coffee shop in the far corner. That time of day it was fairly quiet, the lunch crowds long gone and quitting time still an hour away. "Large hazelnut latte, extra shot." He handed over a five, dropped a one in the tip box, and wandered over to the counter to wait. When it was ready, he went to the cluster of oversized chairs in a corner where he would be able to see everyone coming.

A couple of minutes later, Rudy joined him, carrying a cup of regular old coffee.

"Tell me everything."

"Not much to tell, though not for lack of trying," Rudy replied. "About two and a half hours ago, Stern called in a team to investigate Annie's place. Two hours ago we got a call from the team that when they arrived, it was to see a gunfight had gone down recently. The neighborhood was freaking out. Cops were all over the place."

"Why weren't we called?" Lynn slammed his latte down on the table, flexing and unflexing his hands. Gunfight. Anderson could be hurt. Why hadn't anyone fucking told him? No wonder Comber had been AWOL all afternoon. "What the fuck?"

"They suspect it's related to the case, I think, and they're keeping it under wraps because no one knows which way is up or what else could go wrong. I only know what I do because people owe me." Rudy pushed at his glasses, took several quick sips of coffee. "I was about to come find you when you called."

"Where the fuck is my goddamn boyfriend?"

Rudy looked up, mouth a tight, pinched line. "Anderson is missing. So is Stern. Witnesses say a bunch of guys showed up and started shooting, then took off. Annie Edison is missing, too. That's all I know, past what little I already knew about the case, which unfortunately isn't much because Stern was handling it himself for the most part."

Lynn stared at his coffee. Anderson was missing. Possibly hurt. "Trident, right? The missing CFO, stolen money no one can locate, and the whole mess is probably tied to the contract renewals coming due."

"How do you know all that?" Rudy demanded.

Shrugging, looking out through the glass that formed one wall of the coffee shop, Lynn replied, "When money like that is in play, bodies start dropping eventually. The longer it's missing, the more bodies start piling up. Bring the government into it? Yeah, there's gonna be bodies. We've been taking bets on when that case was going to get bounced to us." And if Anderson's body was one of them, Lynn would burn the whole fucking city down. "I am going to—" He stopped as his phone started buzzing, heart going from pounding to thundering as he pulled it out.

Disappointment crushed him when he saw Comber's name. Hitting accept, he pressed the phone to his ear. "What?"

"Get your ass back to the office now. Room One. Yesterday, Seymour." Comber hung up.

Lynn scowled as he stood up and shoved the phone back in his pocket. "Gotta go, boss demands my presence."

"So does mine," Rudy said with a frown as he put his own phone away. "Well, Stern's boss." He picked up his own coffee as he stood but kept his phone in his hand. "Wants me on your floor, room one."

Lynn let out a sharp bark of laughter. "They're going to ground us."

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of." Rudy sighed as he followed Lynn back to the elevators.

On his floor, Lynn led the way down the hall to the meeting rooms, shoving open the door on the first one. Comber and Belinda Victor, the director for their branch, stood to the left side of the room. Their low murmurings dropped off as they noticed Rudy and Lynn. "Where the hell have you been?" Comber snapped. "Every time I turn around today you're not doing your goddamn job."

Lynn brushed lint from the sleeve of his blazer. "My work is either caught up, ahead of schedule, or on hold for reasons beyond my control." He looked up, glared at them both. "Where the fuck is Anderson?"

"Sit your ass in the chair."

"No."

Comber gave him a look, but bit back whatever he'd wanted to say when Belinda held up a hand to forestay him. She regarded Lynn pensively. "You already know what's going to happen?"

"You're going to send me home because I'm too close to whatever the fuck just went wrong on the Trident case," Lynn replied.

She nodded. "Yes. We cannot have a distressed kraken running around this case. I'm sorry."

"So you'll let me stay on when you need me to kill my brother, but my lover goes missing and suddenly I'm in timeout?" Lynn asked. "What sense does that make? I know how to handle myself, and I have a better chance of finding Anderson than anyone."

"There is no proof of that, and your brother was an extenuating circumstance. You're not going anywhere near this investigation."

Lynn turned away with a snarl, glared out the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that formed the back wall.

"What about me?" Rudy asked. "There's no reason to remove me, but if I'm here, then you must be grounding me, too. I'm familiar with the case; Stern pulled me specifically to research the numbers for him. I was the one who figured out just how much money was actually missing—and that there might still be more missing money out there. I know more about the case than anyone, after Stern. Agent Meadows is also my partner, which means I'm most suited to finding him, after Agent Seymour. We stand the best chance of picking out any clues he might leave."

Belinda folded her arms beneath her breasts. "It's well known you and Stern are… close."

Rudy stiffened. "What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything, Agent. I'm stating: it's well known you and Stern are having an affair. We've overlooked the breach in conduct because it wasn't affecting anything, but it cannot be ignored any longer given the circumstances."

"I strongly advise you stop listening to gossip, Director, because we're not," Rudy replied in a far calmer tone than Lynn would have managed in the same situation. "Whatever my private feelings as regards Agent Stern, that's all they are. There is no relationship past he's my boss and I'm his agent."

Lynn sneered. "If this is how the rest of the office conducts investigations, it's no wonder Violent Crimes is the only department capable of closing cases. Even I know they're not fucking, and I barely see them."

"Feelings are bad enough, especially when his partner is one of the missing men. You're both too close and I want you off the premises until we find our missing agents. Do you understand me?"

"I hope you're not going to try to place us under house arrest," Lynn said.

She dropped her arms, braced her hands on her hips. "There's no trying about it, Agent. It's well known how uncooperative you can be, not even including the problems inherent with krakens anyway. You will be escorted to your homes and put under supervision."

Lynn kept his temper, but only by picturing Anderson dead. Getting himself in trouble would just slow down his attempts to get to Anderson. "At least let Rudy stay with me. We'll be in one place, so you won't have to waste as many men babysitting and we'll be in the same location should they be found or we're needed for something after all." She frowned, started to shake her head, and Lynn added, "Unless you want us to raise a fuss about you listening to gossip and making nasty assumptions that can and probably have damaged the careers of two agents."

"Fine," Belinda said tersely. "But if I find out you've gone off on your own, Agent Seymour, I will have you fired before you can blink. Am I understood?"

"Understood, Director." He hated job hunting, but if he was going to be starting a family in the next few years, it was probably best to find one more in line with that, anyway. There was bound to be something he could do. Whatever. That was a problem to freak out about later.

Comber grunted, jerked a thumb at the door. "Get the hell out of here, then."

Out in the hall, Lynn wasn't surprised three goons were already waiting for them. He vaguely recognized them, but no names came to mind. "We need to get our things from our desks." The men nodded, saying nothing. One went with him, the other with Rudy, while the last went to get the car.

Ignoring the looks and jibes of his coworkers, Lynn gathered up his coat and the presents he hadn't been able to give Anderson, then followed his new shadow out of the office and to the elevators.

When they got downstairs, Rudy was already waiting in the car. "Rudy's house first, so he can get some things while he stays with me for a few days. Then my penthouse. Step on it, Jeeves."

The driver flipped him off. "I know this comes as a shock to you, Seymour, but the world does not revolve around you. Nobody is impressed with you being some enormous monster of the deep. I know you squids are used to shock and awe, but by now we all know you're just an unimpressive, spoiled little brat."

Lynn scoffed. "Nothing about me is unimpressive. I work too damn hard."

That just got him a sneer in the rearview mirror, but what the fuck did he care? He didn't have time for insecure assholes, not when Anderson was missing.

It felt like someone had filled his stomach with rusty nails and tied his ribs into knots that dug into his lungs. Anderson had to be okay. Lynn wouldn't, couldn't, accept any other reality. Otherwise he would fucking show them monster of the deep.

Or had they already forgotten he'd killed his own half-brother without hesitation or remorse?

Lynn balled a hand into a fist, stared out the window as the city crawled by. Slowly, city gave way to highway, and then they were pulling up in front of a cute little cottage complete with gnarled trees, roses, and tidy fairy gardens tucked in here and there. "Speaking of ferocious beasts," he drawled, casting Rudy a sideways glance. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable having such a terrible, man-eating ogre in my house."

"Not all that fond of eating men," Rudy replied blandly. "I much prefer seafood."

Lynn grinned. Rudy climbed out of the SUV, shadowed by Goon Three, and vanished into his house. Lynn pulled out his phone and hit the second speed dial.

"Who are you calling?" Goon Two asked.

"My sister. Is that a fucking crime now?"

Goon Two subsided with a grunt, an expression on his face that could only be described as 'constipated.'

Leslie picked up on the third ring. "S'up, bro?"

"Wanted to warn you that I'm going to have babysitters when you come to pick up that dress you wanted to borrow. Something's gone screwy at work and I'm being sent to my room."

"Make sure the dress is ready, I'll be in and out," Leslie replied. "I hope everything is going to be okay."

"Oh, it will be," Lynn replied. "I'll see you around eight."

"Got it. Love you, bye."

"Love you, bye."

He dropped the phone on his lap, went back to staring out the window until the doors opened and Rudy slid back into the bucket seat next to his. "Can't wait to see this fancy abode Anderson is always talking about." Rudy smirked faintly. "Though I'll probably skip the pool."

Lynn smiled despite himself. "Yeah, you should probably skip the pool." He caught Goon Two grimacing from the front passenger seat. "You don't have to like my sex life, asshole, but you don't need to judge it. I sure as hell don't judge the freaky shit you faeries get up to."

"We don't get up to freaky shit," the man snapped.

Smile turning toothy, Lynn replied, "Guess that was just your girlfriend, then. Must suck to be stuck with plain vanilla now, but it's her life. Like I said, I don't judge."

The man cast him a hostile look, then pointedly turned back to face the windshield and said nothing more the rest of the trip. When they finally reached Lynn's building, Lynn went to the front desk and had an access card printed for Rudy. Upstairs, he dropped his things on the kitchen island and gestured to the rest of the house. "Rudy, make yourself at home. There's a guest bedroom at the end of the hall on the left. You three, be as invisible as possible."

"You could show some courtesy, Seymour," said Goon One. "This isn't personal. We're just doing our job. We're agents like you."

Lynn ignored them because near as he could tell, it was very personal and also he just didn't fucking care. He was going to find Anderson—no matter what it cost him. "Come on, Rudy. I'll show you to your room." He walked off, Rudy close behind.

Flicking on the lights, he stepped into the room. When Rudy was inside, he stuck his head into the hall to make sure they hadn't been followed, then motioned for Rudy to follow him into the bathroom. Turning on the fan to help muffle their conversation, he finally said, "My sister is coming over around eight. We're going to switch places so I can get the hell out of here and find them. Do you know if there's somewhere other than Annie Edison's house I should start looking?"

"I'll email you information," Rudy said. "Do you have a private email people more or less don't know about?" He shoved his hands into the pockets of the jeans he'd changed into.

"Yeah." Lynn rattled it off. "If you can't figure out how to get information to me, find a way to let my sister know. We've got a hundred tricks."

"How often do you and your sister do this switcheroo thing?"

"Often enough my mom is the only one now who can tell when we're playing each other. Even my other siblings can't peg it unless we slip up on something really stupid and obvious. My dad has never once caught on." He smiled briefly, but it fell away again as he continued, "If at any point you need to talk to me away from those guys, there's a burn phone in the toilet, taped to the lid of the tank."

Rudy nodded.

"I'll text or email you if I need help, and tell you to check the burn phone if I absolutely need to talk to you. There's a gun taped behind it, and the same for the master bath. The general use one down the hall doesn't have anything. If you need to leave, call the front desk for a car. I've told them you're basically me and should be treated accordingly." Lynn blew out a breath. "I guess I should have led with: I have issues with authority and sitting around on my ass doing nothing—"

"And I'm pretty sure there's a leak somewhere, so I really don't give a damn about orders from anyone in the office right now," Rudy said quietly, but with force. "You do the field work; I'll play handler here until I have to split. Will your sister be okay if I have to bail, or do I need to take her to safety somewhere?"

Lynn laughed. "Leslie can handle herself, believe me. At worst, she has friends in this city even I wouldn't fuck with lightly. Thanks, Rudy. We'll get them back."

"Yes, we will." Rudy followed him back out of the bedroom and down the hall. "So what's for dinner?"

"Whatever we want. Almost everything around here delivers, or at least will deliver for me. How does everyone feel about Italian?" Lynn went into the kitchen and pulled out a menu, handed if off to the nearest goon. "Pick out what you want, write it down on the pad of paper on the fridge. Come and get me when everyone's written something down." He turned sharply and went outside to the balcony, stripped off his clothes, and slid into the water.

Shifting eased some of his tension, but nowhere near all of it. He moved restlessly through the water, stretching his tentacles out as far as they would go, aching to hold something he may never hold again. No. He would not think that way. He would get Anderson back.

He drifted to the bottom of the pool and curled in on himself, enjoyed the soothing water and the distant, muted sounds of the city. Tried to think of happy things, like miniature Sparklesons. A job where he could stop worrying if one of them was going to get dead, because more and more that risk was becoming unacceptable. What the hell had happened to his edge?

The answer to that question was stupidly obvious, though.

A hand dipped into the water, splashed around. Lynn rippled with amusement and fanned out, moved across the bottom of the pool until he was close enough to slither up a tentacle and wrap it around Rudy's wrist and tug lightly. He heard Rudy swear, felt him try to pull free.

Keeping firm hold, Lynn broke the surface and grinned. "You can just call my name. I'll hear you."

"I wasn't sure," Rudy replied. "Leggo."

"Sure you don't want to go for a swim?"

Rudy grinned. "No way. I already think I need to wash my hand."

"This pool does have a cleaning system." Lynn let go and swam to the edge, climbed out of the water, and touched his ring to shift, feeling a pang as his tentacles once more returned to legs.

He grunted when a towel dropped over his head, stood up and dried off. "Where is the Goon trio?"

"Sulking in the living room. They seem to have a problem with nudity. Or at least your nudity."

Lynn snorted. That so did not surprise him. Faeries, in a very broad, general sense, did not approve of anyone too comfortable with what they termed a 'dual nature'. Animalistic tendencies were something to be overcome; they did not have human forms so they could act like beasts.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and walked into the kitchen, turned his espresso machine on, then grabbed the dinner list and his phone.

Several minutes later he hung up. He fixed himself a double espresso, let it cool while he puttered around the kitchen getting out plates and silverware for dinner. When he was done, he knocked back the espresso then put the empty shot glasses in the sink. "Dinner should be here in about an hour. I ordered cannoli all around for dessert because even goons deserve a chance to enjoy that stuff. I'm going to get dressed. Try to behave while I'm gone." He didn't give them a chance to reply, and felt their glares all the way to his room. Or maybe they were checking out his ass. It was a nice one, and the towel didn't exactly leave much to the imagination (not that they needed imagination—he'd probably given them an eyeful when he'd gone for a swim).

Being immodest wasn't nearly as much fun when he didn't have a sparkly unicorn making lewd comments or getting handsy. When he got Anderson back, he wasn't letting the bastard out of their bed or the pool for a month. They were taking a month long vacation to some overpriced island resort where no one would bother them except for room service.

In his room, he took a quick shower, then dressed in jeans and t-shirt that would be easy to shuck when Leslie arrived.

Back in the living room, Goons Two and Three stared at him. "I didn't know you knew what jeans were, Seymour."

"You never see me out of the office, you don't know shit about me." Lynn folded his arms across his chest. "You know my name, what the hell is yours?"

Goon Two rolled his eyes. "Ron." He pointed a thumb at Goon One. "Thomas. And the last one is Joe."

"Pleasure. I'd offer you a beer, but you're working. Rudy?"

"Love one."

Lynn got the beers for him and Rudy, soda and water for the goons, then grabbed his laptop and tried to do something, anything, to keep from going stir crazy. He couldn't do much, not with Ron, Thomas, and Joe taking turns being nosey, but nobody had said he couldn't keep working on his other cases.

By the time the food arrived, he was ready to scream. He forced himself to eat anyway because chances were once he started he wouldn't be stopping anytime soon, and he was going to need all the energy he could get.

"Jeez, I want food like this every day," Rudy said, mowing through his lasagna like he hadn't eaten in three days.

"You can always order it for lunch," Lynn said. "Tell them you're a friend of mine. They'll cut you a deal."

"How do you know and get favors and special treatment from every last fucking person in the city?" Joe demanded. "I swear to god, every ten minutes you're showing off some other connection. Do you sleep with the mayor or something?"

"Ew, no. He's a sleaze. Local LEOs have caught him with barely-legal hookers more times than we can count, but he always wiggles out of the charges." Lynn drained his beer. "My parents and my sister are the well-connected ones, and it works out nicely for them to have family in the Bureau. Favors make friends. You should try it sometime."

"Whatever," Ron muttered. "Rich people stuff. I promise you, being someone's Bureau relative never got me cheap gourmet Italian and fancy suits."

Lynn shrugged and set out the container full of cannoli, helping himself to two.

He was just about to text his sister and demand to know where the hell she was because the clock said 8:05 when he heard the door unlock. He took another bite of cannoli but kept still otherwise, casting Leslie an idle look as she walked toward them. Her slick, black Jimmy Choo t-strap peep-toes clicked on the linoleum as she crossed the kitchen, pausing only to drop her Gucci purse on the island before approaching him. She swiped the second cannoli from his fingers. "Told me you were stressed and here you are having a boys' night. Stop slacking and get me the dress, 'cause I'm supposed to be at that party fifteen minutes ago."

"You could have come sooner," Lynn said. "Not my fault you spend too much time sucking up to clients."

"Where is your better half?" She finished the cannoli off in a few quick, hungry bites.

"Missing," Lynn said quietly as he cleaned his hands on a dish towel before hugging her, burying his face in Leslie's throat and finally giving in to the nerves that had been strung taught ever since he'd heard the words Anderson is missing.

She squeezed tight, petted his hair. "It's okay. They'll find him. Want me to hang around?"

He drew back, kissed her cheek. "Nah. Nothing you can do except listen to me whine, and I've already got three fine men here to do that. Have you met Rudy? This is Anderson's partner in White Collar."

"Nice to meet you," Leslie shook his hand, smiled brightly before turning to nod at the other three. "Take care of my brother." She looked back at Lynn. "Dress. Now. I knew I shouldn't have left it here after that charity auction."

"Yes, boss." He gestured to the goons, watching them cautiously. "Finish your dessert. We'll be back in a minute." He left the kitchen, Leslie on his heels.

The moment they were out of sight, he stripped off his t-shirt, and by the time he reached his bedroom, he had his jeans undone. From there, shucking them was easy. He tossed them on the bed, and caught the clothes Leslie threw him. Touching his ring, he shifted quickly in and out of his real form—too briefly for it to take, but just enough for him to alter his human form.

Going to his dresser, he took out a pair of black satin panties and matching bra and quickly pulled them on, then put on the black pencil skirt and royal purple blouse Leslie had been wearing. He sat on the edge of the bed to buckle on the high heels, then hastily put on the jewelry she handed over: hoops, bracelet, several rings. Finally, he twisted his hair up into the same chignon she'd had and pinned it with the diamond and amethyst clip she'd been wearing.

They looked each other over, nodded. "Thanks, sis."

"Any time, bro," Leslie said and drew him in to kiss his cheek. "Haven't been you in a bit, should be fun. If they get too weird, I'll just hide in the pool like always. Tentacles are good for maintaining boundaries." She waggled her eyebrows.

Lynn grinned. "I owe you."

"We'll negotiate later. Go save your sparkly. I actually like him."

He hugged her again, then went to his closet and pulled out the dark red satin gown she had supposedly come to fetch. He'd bought it to wear to a charity auction forever ago, when Leslie was meant to have been on stage, but had been too sick to go. Hopefully their trade off would never occur to the goons; that kind of fluidity usually didn't occur to goons like that, though, so the trick should work for a few hours.

Lynn carefully draped it over one arm, hiding his phone, wallet, and badge in the folds.

"Don't take my car," Leslie said after peeking around the door to make sure they were still alone. "There's a spare set of keys in my purse for a silver Malibu I borrowed from work parked around the block, right in front of the video store. Rudy knows everything else?"

Lynn nodded.

"Here we go, then." Leslie led the way down the hall and back to the kitchen. She looked at the Goons like they were disappointing employees. "I don't suppose I'm at least going to be given the courtesy of periodic updates? I've been removed from this case—from the premises—for personal reasons. It might be nice if someone let me know now and again what progress was being made on making sure Anderson and Stern aren't dead. Or is that too much to ask? Above your pay grade to find out?"

Picking up her purse, Lynn settled it on his shoulder and said, "Would you please wait to pick fights until I'm gone? I know you're worried, bro, but Anderson does the same job as you. He'll be okay. Walk me to the door so I know you won't hit anybody before I leave." He batted his eyes. "Or your cute little ogre friend can do it."

Rudy snorted. "By all means, my lady." He slid from the stool he was sitting at and walked with Lynn across the apartment. "Have fun at your party."

"Take care of my brother." Just to mess with him, Lynn leaned down and kissed his cheek, grinning at the eye roll that got him before he closed the door.

He walked to the elevator and rode it down to the parking garage. He left the dress in his sister's corvette, then walked out of the garage to the east side of the block. Sure enough, a silver Malibu waited for him just as promised. Not the most exciting car, but he really didn't care about exciting right then.

Someone whistled as he walked to the car; Lynn flipped the jackass off, but otherwise ignored him. He slid into the car, stupidly wanting to cry when he saw the duffle bag waiting for him, filled with much more practical clothing and Leslie's S&W.

Lynn drove off, kept going until he was out of the city and found a quiet stretch of empty road to pull over. Grabbing the bag, he hauled into the trees and quickly changed into jeans, a more practical bra, white tanktop, black long-sleeved t-shirt, and sturdy boots. Shoving his wallet, phone, and badge into his pockets, he shrugged into a light-weight jacket and stuffed the other clothes into the bag. He'd make up for their mistreatment later.

Dropping the bag in the trunk, he slid behind the wheel and pulled his phone out, checked his email. As promised, there was one from Rudy.

The preliminary report says Edison's dark green Toyota RAV4 is missing, that a blue Honda Civic was in its place in her garage. There's an APB out for the RAV4, but I don't think it's the getaway, taking in the rest of the report. I think Edison is on the run with someone, got out before whatever the hell went down with A and S. I've compiled a list of places she's been the past couple of weeks, to see if we can trace where she was planning to go, if she met with someone. I also included a list of where she might have sold or traded the RAV4, in case that leads to anything.

I'm going to work on the leak. Nobody else should have known about Stern meeting with Annie today, and something spooked her.

Don't get dead or arrested.

That was always the goal. Setting the phone in the cup holder in the center console, Lynn turned off the flashers, put the car in gear, and took off down the highway bound for Annie Edison's house.

It seemed to take forever to get there, but eventually he reached the neighborhood and turned down her street. He drove past Annie's house, relieved to see authorities had already finished up with it, and parked about a block away. Going to the trunk, he dug out the S&W as well as the shoulder holster he'd missed the first time. He owed Leslie big time. He shrugged out of his jacket, got the holster in place, checked the gun and slid it into the holster, then put his jacket back on and slammed the trunk shut.

He braided his hair back, secured the end with a hairband from the duffle bag, and headed back toward Annie's house on foot.

The neighborhood was dead quiet, not even kids running about, despite the hour and the nice weather. Well, he wouldn't let his kids outside either, if he had any. His stomach cramped, thinking of his hypothetical children. They were all supposed to look like Anderson, damn it. What was he going to do if that proved to no longer be possible?

He would lose his goddamn mind, that was what would happen. So he was going to get Anderson back.

Reaching Annie's house, he stood on the sidewalk in front, shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and stared. The knots in his stomach tightened as he took in the spatter of bullet holes across the front of it, mostly concentrated around the front door. Even from here he could see bloodstains. Was Anderson okay? Had he taken a hit? Lynn hoped Anderson had gotten the chance to give back twice as good as he'd gotten.

Lynn tensed as he heard footsteps coming up behind him but didn't quite reach for his gun as he slowly turned around. He relaxed when he saw the woman walking toward him. She was short, skinny, and wearing yoga pants and a bright pink workout shirt, her long brown hair in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck. Ordinary human, near as he could tell. She didn't have the right vibe, and the only ring she wore was a rather pretty wedding band.

"Are you a cop?" she asked as she reached him, folding her arms protectively across her chest.

Fishing out his badge, Lynn presented it quickly, before she took in that his had two photos—male and female. He considered giving a false name, but if the Bureau found out about him poking around, even a fake name wouldn't really slow them down much in figuring out it was him. The moment someone smarter than the goons in his condo came along and realized what he and Leslie had done, it was over. "Agent Seymour, I'm with the Bureau. You are?"

"Melinda Smithson." She shook his hand. "Most folks call me Mel." She folded her arms across her chest again, nodded at Annie's house. "Poor Annie. She's a good person, always so friendly and sweet. I don't know what she's doing mixed up in such a crazy mess."

Lynn forced patience. "She's mixed up in it because she was going to testify against a dangerous man, possibly put him and others in jail for a long time."

"Like the ones that started shooting like they thought they were in a damned movie instead of an actual place where people could get hurt?"

"If they live, ma'am, they'll definitely be going away for a long time," Lynn replied, but so far as he was concerned, their lives had been reduced to a matter of hours.

She gave him a look that seemed far too knowing for Lynn's liking, then turned back to the house. Whatever bit of information she wanted to share, she clearly wasn't quite ready to part with it. She reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, gaze dropping. Her hand stilled, then fell to her side, and she looked slowly up at Lynn, hesitantly said, "I like your ring."

He frowned at the odd look she was giving him. "Thanks?"

Mel bit her lip. "Um. Okay, this might be a weird, crazy-person questions, but, um. Are you from the Bureau or the other Bureau?"

Lynn opened his mouth, and then huffed a soft laugh. "How do you know about us? You're an ordinary human and you don't act like someone related to a shifter. You would have marked me faster, at the very least by my ring."

"The ring was what made me wonder." Her mouth quirked. "My sister and her husband came to stay with us for a few months while they found a house. They live like twenty minutes from here now. Anyway, most folks walk in on people having sex. I managed to walk in—well, out, really, they were in the trees behind my house—while my brother-in-law was a unicorn. I don't think I've drunk so much vodka so fast since I was pledging my sorority. It was a lot easier to do back then." She grinned a little.

Lynn laughed. "All in all, I'd say you took it well."

"Anyway, Steve, that's my brother-in-law, he's told me a little about it all, but not a lot. He mentioned a couple of times there's like this shifter FBI. I still feel silly saying all this." She shook her head. "This whole shooting thing has been bugging me because they all reminded me of Steve. You've all got this… look about you, I guess. I think. I'm never totally sure, and it's not like I can just go up to people and ask them. But your ring is like Steve's, all fancy and with those shifter stone thingies. Is it rude to ask what you turn into?"

"Not in your case, since knowing can be a matter of safety for you. I'm a kraken."

Her eyes popped wide. "Like the sea monster? With all the—" She wiggled her fingers.

Laughing again, Lynn replied, "Yeah, exactly."

"Is Annie one too?"

Lynn nodded. "She's a gremlin."

"Wow." Mel shook her head. "This is all crazy. So were those other guys, uh, shifters too, then, like I thought? Especially the pretty one, he reminded me of Steve. They had the same kind of prettiness, if that makes sense. And I know I saw one of them breathe fire for a second, he looked spitting mad. I didn't tell the other cops that because even I think I sound crazy."

"You're not crazy. If he was breathing fire, he was probably a dragon or a salamander. What was the pretty one you mentioned?"

"Pretty as could be," she said, a touch of wistfulness to her voice. "He showed up with the other guy, before the others arrived and started shooting. They were the ones who got shot at and dragged away by the others. He had pale hair, wasn't really tall, wearing a nice suit. Looked like a faerie prince."

Lynn managed to hold back a laugh because faeries did not look anything like unicorns. And they really hated when people still tried to call them royalty. There hadn't been a faerie monarch of any sort for at least three centuries. "Definitely not a prince. You were right before—he's exactly like Steve."

"A unicorn?" She laughed when he nodded. "Are all unicorns that pretty?"

"Not all of them, but as a general rule, they do tend toward it. Was he hurt at all?"

She bit her lip, nodded. "There was blood. I didn't get a good look, but he wasn't moving when they put him in their car."

Lynn closed his eyes, swallowed the scream in his throat.

Fingers gently touched his arm. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Lynn said, slowly opening his eyes again. "He's my partner—lover. We used to be work partners, but aren't anymore. I'm trying to find him."

"Oh, I'm sorry. He didn't look hurt bad, I don't think."

"It's okay, he's pretty tough. I'm sure he's fine. Can you tell me anything else?"

She shrugged. "Not much to tell. Your partner and the other guy showed up. A little while later the others showed up. They seemed to get into an argument with your partner, and then the shooting started. But I actually came about Annie because I forgot to tell the other cops something. I was about to call them when I saw you. A little before your partner and the other showed up, this blue car drove up and a guy got out. I didn't pay attention, except I thought it was cool Annie had a friend over for once. But a few minutes later, I was walking by the front window to go check on the laundry and I saw her and the guy hurrying away like there was something wrong. But they were in Annie's car that time."

"Did you notice anything about the car?"

"Not really. It was pretty forgettable, you see a hundred of them a day." She smiled a little. "I hope you find them."

"Anything else you can tell me about the men who started shooting? One breathed fire, did you note anything about the others?"

"The other two seemed normal enough," she said with a shrug. "If they were like you, it wasn't obvious. Sorry I can't tell you more."

"You've told me plenty. Thank you for all the help." Lynn shook her hand, and then waited until she'd gone back in her house before hustling back down the street to his car.

Sliding behind the wheel, he pulled out his phone and saw he had a text from Rudy. Told the goons I was going to bed, snitched one of your burn phones so we could text with them none the wiser. Got some damned interesting discoveries for you.

Oh?

The reply came almost immediately. Did some digging, didn't actually require much work. We've all been so focused on Myer as a thief, we didn't stop to ask if he was a thief by choice.

Before Lynn could form a reply, his phone started ringing. "Hey."

"Hey," Rudy said. "I did some digging, called in a few favors. I was thinking more about those government contracts, you know? I thought maybe Myer was using the money to bribe people into ensuring that the microchips went to Trident, even though they're not technically equipped for it. Or even bribe people to delay the microchips, keep the rings going longer, and give Trident time to build what they need to handle the microchip production. That would explain why we couldn't find the money—we've been assuming it's still in his possession. But what if it wasn't? Except I didn't turn up what I expected."

"What did you turn up?"

"That I was still getting it wrong. I checked out the likeliest places Myer would send those kinds of bribes, found some questionable amounts of money, but they were coming from another source. It took calling in another favor, since I can only do so much from your condo, no matter how swank, but near as I can tell, Governor Martinez is mixed up in this business. If we really do start moving from rings to microchips, he's got a company that could make them. Once I noticed that, I started poking around in his company finances. Took a bit because he bounced things around really well, but I found deposits that line-up with the money Myer stole. I still need to find hard proof the money came from Myer, but I'd bet what's left of my career that he was giving regular payments to Martinez, and that it was blackmail money. I'm still figuring out what he had on Myer, but I'm pretty sure I'll find something."

"Why would he blackmail Myer?" Lynn asked, mind churning, churning, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

Rudy laughed. "Money is nice, but secrets are better. I've seen this shit a hundred times. I'm so pissed I didn't figure it out sooner. You blackmail somebody into giving you money, then when they're so desperate and afraid and strung out they'll do anything, you start demanding company secrets. I can pull a dozen cases from the last six months alone that went exactly like this. We should have seen it sooner."

"Governor Martinez is no fool," Lynn said. "Neither is his useless fucking son. A witness I spoke with said she swears she saw one of the shooters breathe fire.

"Oh, my god," Rudy said. "Martinez was supposed to transfer out of White Collar, but he canceled the transfer at the last minute—right about the time this case landed on Stern's desk. That would make sense. Governor blackmails Myer for inside information so he can wedge in ahead of everyone else and get the microchip contracts. Myer finally balks. Governor sends his Bureau son to take care of the mess, but Myer gets away. They bury the whole mess, but then Annie enters the picture. They can't do shit, though, because too many bodies will draw attention. Only Annie finally agrees to talk, so they have no choice."

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch when I find him," Lynn spat. "He has to know time is ticking. If we figured it out this fast while we're grounded, Comber will have it soon." He closed his eyes as realization struck. "They took Anderson and Stern for insurance. They know the jig is almost up, so they're digging an escape route. Where the fuck is the governor?"

"Working on it," Rudy replied. "We need to find Anderson and Stern, but I have no idea where to start looking."

Lynn slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel, hating himself even as he said, "Looking for them is a waste of time. Martinez and his goons could have taken them anywhere, and we don't have time to figure out all his hiding places. We'll have more luck if we can find Annie and whoever she ran off with—Myer, if I had to guess. No one else makes sense."

"Where the heck are we supposed to find them? Get any leads there?"

"Nothing past confirmation she left with someone else minutes before Anderson and Stern got here. If she and Myer are on the run, and Myer has slid under the radar… Wait a minute, she's a gremlin. What the hell was Myer? A vampire?"

"Yeah," Rudy said. "Why?"

"Because we're idiots. Gremlins can fly under the radar pretty easy, but vampires get busted pretty quick if they try to move without permits," Lynn said. "He can't go to ground without a new identity, and if Annie is with him, then they'll probably get her new papers too just to be safe. You know where they'd go."

"Not anywhere here in the city," Rudy said thoughtfully. "Our buddy Martinez specializes in those forgery cases. I'm starting to think he does so for daddy. If Myer was on to him, he'd be cautious, so he'd have to go somewhere else to have papers forged. The closest location is Mt. Heather. There's a pair down there that would do it, and for the right price, they'd do it in a hurry. It's a long shot."

"Only shot I've got," Lynn replied. "Every other lead is dead, would take too long to pursue, or is going to throw me right into the Bureau's path and I'll be dragged off in cuffs."

Rudy grunted. "Dusting off my resume is going to suck. I'll text you the address. Their names are Nat and Mel; they're half-faerie, but I don't know more than that. They get really skittish about whatever the heck their other halves are. Tell'em you're a friend of mine and they'll bitch a little less."

"Got it." Lynn hung up, waited impatiently for the address, and then drove off.

It took him just over an hour to reach Mt. Heather, and night was creeping up to settle firmly in place when he reached the address Rudy had sent. It looked like a deserted house, something so rundown even the bank couldn't be bothered to give a damn about it. The windows were boarded up, the porch resembled a pile of tinder, and the yard had long ago become a jungle.

Climbing out of the car, Lynn walked around to the back of the house, where he was not even remotely surprised to see the jungle well trampled and a couple of parked cars.

The door also had way too nice and new a lock on it. Either the owner was weirdly possessive of a pile of crumbling brick, or the house had something valuable in it. He was going to guess high-end computer equipment necessary for forging government documents for shifters who wanted to do something that would make the Bureau frown heavily.

He knocked on the door.

A slot at eye level snapped open. How very Hollywood. "What the fuck do you want?"

"I want a word, and unless you want to endanger your friendship with Rudy, you'll let me have it."

The slot slammed shut, but a moment later the door opened to reveal a grungy looking reject from a bad punk concert. Across the room, typing away on a keyboard, the single other occupant looked about the same. The only thing that gave away they were half-faerie was their bright, bright green-yellow eyes. Faerie-green, the color was called, it was that distinct.

But it was also a color unique to spring faeries, and spring faeries literally lived on sunshine. Skulking about in the dark, probably living on moonlight, was like keeping Lynn in a fresh-water pool in the middle of a desert. He'd survive, but that was the best he'd do.

So what the fuck else were they that they were making themselves miserable? Not that it mattered to him, and even if it did, he didn't have the fucking time, but it was interesting.

The room wasn't any better than its occupants, all metal and old wood, hot-running computer equipment that made the place miserably stuffy.

"What do you want?" the faerie repeated, sitting down in a desk chair and regarding him petulantly. On the other side of the room, the second faerie scowled at him before going back to whatever was on his computer screen. "We're busy, ain't got time for you damn feds, I don't care how hot you are."

"As if I care whether you think I'm hot," Lynn said. "You've got all the time in the world unless you want us to cease putting up with you and haul your asses in for the long list of laws you've been breaking. At the very top of that list would be willful endangerment of shifters and humans."

"We haven't endangered—"

"You're forging papers. You're letting people go where they shouldn't be going, unless you think a high concentration of vampires in one location is acceptable," Lynn cut in.

The faeries glared at him. "The government doesn't have the right to tell people where they should live."

"I'm not arguing with you. I don't have the time," Lynn replied. "The law is the law, whether it's smart or stupid, and if you do not do what I want right this fucking minute, I will use the law to haul your asses in, and then you'll do what I want to avoid a life sentence. Do you understand me?"

"Fine," said the second faerie. "What the fuck do you want, fed?"

Lynn pulled out his phone, pulled up pictures of Myer and Annie that Rudy had sent him. "Do you know either one of these people?"

They glanced at the images, faces carefully blank, but Lynn saw something flicker when they stared at Drew Myer's picture. "You know him."

"Yeah," said the first faerie with a grunt, turning back to their computer and stabbing viciously at the keyboard. "We did a full set for him: identity, psych eval, moving permits, the works. Arranged for him to be a nice, healthy, stable vampire looking to move to a warmer climate. Nowhere overpopulated—we're not morons." He shot Lynn a scathing look.

Lynn sneered. "A couple of spring faeries living in a condemned house, working in the dark, chained to computers? I'm pretty fucking sure that's the definition of moron."

"Hey, you can't—"

"Sit down," Lynn snapped, pulling his gun and aiming it at the first faerie's head. "I want to know where the fuck Myer went, if he had a woman with him."

"Not at the time," the second faerie said, stabbing at the keyboard again, screen filling with some sort of work sheet where he started typing in all manner of information. Government forms by the look of them, but that was as far as Lynn got. "He called about an hour ago, however, wanted a full workup for a gremlin and wanted it done fast. We're working on it now. You'd better not cost us our money, you stupid fed."

Lynn shrugged. "Money I've got, if that's what it takes for you to cooperate."

They both looked ready to throw something at him. "You could have led with that."

"Here I thought it was the principal of the matter, you fighting for the good and fairness of all shifters," Lynn replied.

"Just because I want money for what I do doesn't mean I don't believe in what I do," the first faerie retorted. "Everybody's got to eat."

"You're spring faeries: you eat sunshine. Shut the fuck up. When are they coming to pick up the papers?" Because papers like that couldn't just be sent somewhere to be picked up by the recipient—there was blood and fingerprints and other shit that had to be done in person. Paperwork was a son of a bitch, and even worse when it was all forged.

"Soon," said the second faerie. "What the fuck is all this about, fed?"

"The name is Lynn Seymour, but you can call me Agent."

The faeries stopped what they were doing and looked at him. "Seymour? Not the crazy ass kraken Seymour?"

Lynn smiled. "Aw, you've heard of me. I'm touched."

"We've heard of you because you're fucking insane," the first faerie muttered.

"Says the spring faerie living in the dark."

"Man, fucking lay off," said the second faerie.

Lynn shrugged. "Who is who? I'm tired of calling you faerie one and faerie two in my head."

"I'm Mel," said the first faerie. "That's Nat."

"Nice to meet you," Lynn drawled, and stowed his gun and phone.

Nat looked up, eyes reflecting the blue on the computer screen. "Thought you always wore a suit."

"It's been a long day. Can you be more precise about when your guests will be arriving?"

Mel shrugged. "I told them it would take a few hours to run the paperwork. This shit doesn't happen in five minutes. You want a seat or something? I'm kind of getting sick of you looming, and we're not going to bolt. Too much work to do. Ain't got time to find a new hideaway and start over. This equipment is expensive, never mind the fucking pain in the ass it is to get linked into all these fucking government sites."

Nat kicked a chair over to him and, grimacing only slightly at the state of it, Lynn sat down. "I feel real fucking sorry for you, having such a hard time of it breaking the law. Poor babies. What are a couple of spring faeries sitting around in the dark for, anyway? Is this a new, cool hip thing?"

"I really don't get why everyone is scared of you," Nat muttered, shoving black strands of hair from their eyes before stomping over to a dubious-looking fridge and pulling out a bottle of green tea; they shook it at Mel and Lynn in silent query. They both nodded, and Nat pulled out two more bottles. "Unless it's of being bitched at to death."

"That is a frequent complaint," Lynn replied with a shrug. "Thanks." He uncapped the bottle and took a long swallow, grimacing slightly at the artificial, too-sweet taste, but right then he wasn't going to be too picky. Fuck knew when he'd next get anything resembling food. At least he'd had a decent meal before sneaking out. "So explain the dark."

"How about 'none of your fucking business,'" Mel replied.

Lynn shrugged. "Fine by me, but it must be a pretty tragic backstory if Rudy is leaving you alone instead of hauling you in."

"Jeez, you're relentless," Nat said with a groan, scrubbing hands over their face. "We're half-vampire, all right?"

Lynn opened his mouth, closed it. Repeated the process. Finally said, "Okay, I didn't actually know that was possible. Amazing. So you, what, live on moonlight and blood?"

Nat nodded. "Yeah."

"Interesting." It was extremely interesting. He'd never actually run into such a combination, hadn't entirely believed it was possible. Shifters and paranormals were roughly divided by type: earth, wind, water, fire, divine, and necro. Faeries were an earth type, the most versatile and adaptable class. Almost anything could combine with an earth type shifter without ill effect.

The exception to that was anything in the necro class because death and life tended to be pretty fucking unable to reconcile differences. Just reproducing would have been extremely difficult, since necros in general had a hard time reproducing and faeries were something else entirely. A faerie wanted a kid, they waited until their time of the decade and got frisky with a flower, then tenderly watched a cocoon-sack-egg thing… bloom? Hatch?

Their parents must have really wanted to have kids together, to go through all the work and hardship that was involved. Must have been tricky to raise them, too, since one parent would need sunlight and most necros couldn't handle sunlight. Vampires could, but only because the government-issued blood they drank contained a special additive to allow them to move around in sunlight, to a limited degree. Even then, most vampires stayed indoors during the day, where the worst they got was indirect sunlight.

"Your parents must have been beside themselves," Lynn said. "Is that how you two wound up working together? Like to like?"

Mel and Nat laughed, the kind of sour laugh Lynn knew all too well. It had the anger and hurt of betrayal behind it, the sting of being abandoned by somebody you'd thought liked you for exactly who you were, but had really just hoped you'd become something else. "We're fraternal twins. And yeah, our parents were beside themselves. In an 'oh, god, get it away, how did this happen' kind of way."

"They accidentally gave birth to fraternal twin half-vamp faerie babies?" Lynn blinked. "Then rejected you? What sort of fucking morons are your parents?" He didn't care how his kids turned out when he had them; he just wanted them healthy and happy. "Are they dead? 'Cause they should be."

They laughed again, and then Mel said, "We have no fucking clue. They ditched us at a government orphanage for shifters, and we got bounced around a lot of those until we were old enough to fuck off and take care of ourselves."

"Dude, enough with the story hour," Nat muttered.

"Now, now, I think—" Lynn broke off as he heard a car in the driveway, listened as it pulled into the backyard. Voices, two of them. He drew his gun and walked over to the door.

When the visitors knocked, he pulled the door open, hiding himself behind it. As soon as the pair was inside, he slammed the door shut and lifted his gun. "Take a seat."

Drew Myer whipped around, lifting his own gun, but Lynn grabbed his wrist and twisted, forcing him to drop it, pushed him into Annie and sent them both to land in an awkward heap on the floor. "Mr. Myer, Ms. Edison, a pleasure to meet you at last. I'm going to make this quick because my lover's life is at stake and my patience ran out hours ago. I need to find Martinez and whoever the fuck is working for him. You're my leverage for doing that."

"Who the fuck are you?" Drew asked, slowly moving his hand toward his waistband.

Lynn stepped on it, pointed the gun at his face. "Agent Lynn Seymour of the BPSI. Agent Martinez has revealed himself as a worthless piece of scum, but he's taken two of our agents hostage."

"So you're going to give us to him to get your agents back?" Drew demanded. "How is that any better?"

"I didn't say I was going to go through with it. I'm not even taking you anywhere near him. But I need him to know that I have you and I'm willing to bargain. Then you can do whatever the fuck you want. Are you going to play nice or do I have to get cranky?"

"You're not already?"

Lynn smiled. "Let me repeat myself: two agents missing. One of them is my lover. Do you want to piss me off?"

"I don't fucking care," Myer said. "My life has been ruined by the Martinez family—one of them a fucking fed I should have been able to trust. Now another crazy ass fed is trying to bully me? Do whatever the fuck you want; it's not like you're giving me much of a goddamn choice."

Heaving a sigh, Lynn stowed his gun then stooped and picked them up off the floor. He pushed Annie into the chair he'd been using and dug up a stool for Drew. "I'm not going to hurt you. In fact, I'm doing my best to make damned certain that nobody but Martinez and his cronies get hurt. But I need Martinez to think I have you. It's the only way I'm going to find him and put a stop to all this—and get our agents back alive. All you have to do is talk on the phone, all right? I'm sorry my reception wasn't very warm, but I'm on a tight schedule."

"You're really going to stop the governor and his fucking blackmail?" Drew asked.

Lynn's smile returned, sharp like broken glass. "I'll leave the good governor to the officials, so he suffers for a long time. But Agent Martinez… yeah, he's going to be stopped all right. It's gonna be a six feet kind of stop.”

"Something about you seems familiar," Annie said quietly. "But I can't imagine why. The only agent I know is Agent Stern. Do you work for him? Maybe you accompanied him one day…" She broke off, pursing her lips in thought.

"Hell, no," Lynn said. "I'm way too good at my job to do something as boring as White Collar. I work in Violent Crimes."

"Oh, my god!" She slapped her thigh. "I read about it in the newsletter. You're the one who killed that horrible serial killer who ate people!"

Lynn winced inwardly. Were people ever going to stop bringing that up? Why was his big, name-making case the one where he murdered his fucking brother? Like, yeah, he was glad Wynn was dead, but could people stop fucking talking about it? "Enough. I told you, time is running out." He looked to Mel and Nat. "You got a phone I can use?"

Nat reached into their desk and rifled around, then threw Lynn an old, battered flip phone. "Alright," Lynn said, punching in Martinez's number but not hitting send. "Here's what we're going to do…"

*~*~*

Anderson woke up feeling like someone had beaten the ever-living shit out of him.

He stamped one hoof… wait a minute.

Why the fuck was he in unicorn mode? He opened his eyes, blinked, then realized it wasn't his eyes that were the problem. They were in some sort of stable, stale smelling and heavily marred with the residue of pain and suffering. The people that came into this stable didn't have a good time during their stay. More than a few hadn't left it alive. Fucking fantastic.

And why in the ever-living FUCK was he in unicorn mode? Forcing someone to shift was just… ugh, he needed a fucking bath. He needed to run somebody through with his horn. He didn't care how badly or how long that would fuck him up. The only people allowed to force him to shift without explicitly asking were medical professionals and Lynn.

Lynn… who was probably breaking every rule in the book looking for him, or had already been arrested for doing so. Anderson shifted fretfully in his slightly too-small stall. He needed to get the fuck out of there and find a phone.

He looked around the stable, felt it out a touch more… and finally saw Stern a few stalls down on the opposite side. Wherever they were, it was a place that relied—or at least had once relied—on horses because he counted at least ten stalls in the portions of the stable he could see.

Stern was unconscious, so tall in his shifted form that his head nearly hit the ceiling. Even being an equine himself, and knowing how big they really were, centaurs still surprised and impressed Anderson.

He pushed against the stall door, but it didn't have any give. Kicking it was an option, but only as a last resort because that would bring attention down on him fast. Damn it, Stern needed to wake the fuck up.

Leaning his head out as far as he could, Anderson angled his horn toward Stern as best he could and concentrated, feeling out… almost… there. His horn thrummed and warmed as it resonated with Stern's aura. The residual energies that leaked out of every living thing left a mark that certain beings could sense, even read and follow. Of all the beings capable of it, unicorns ranked among the best.

It was that sharp awareness of life that got unicorns labeled as gentle, delicate, unable to deal with the 'harsher realities' of life, like violence and death. Like most stereotypes, it was true only insofar as probability stated there was bound to be at least one unicorn who fit it—but certainly not all unicorns, and probably not even most. And yeah, it bugged him to walk in to see a body knifed 400 times, blood all over the fucking floor, life residue filled with pain and rage. But who the fuck wasn't bothered by that kind of thing? Unicorns weren't special, just especially aware.

Synced to Stern's aura, he gently pushed out thoughts of wake up, wake up, wake up.

Stern had just started groaning softly when the door all the way at the end of the stable slammed open, and two figures with dark, sour, jagged-edged auras came stomping in. Lynn snapped the connection with Stern and withdrew as far into his stall as he could.

They reached the stall, one of them filling the doorway. Anderson remembered that overcooked meat smell. Jones, that was the bastard's name. Hopefully he wandered into stabbing range.

"Why does the boss want this little bitch? Ask me, we're better off leaving him to rot."

"Better off shooting him in the head," Jones replied. "But that ain't our call to make. Boss wants him. We bring him. Maybe he'll let us shoot the bitch later."

"You bring him," the second guy muttered. "He fucking kicked me in the nuts earlier when we were stripping him down."

Anderson whinnied at that, stamped one of his hooves. Damn fucking straight, little asswipe. If they tried to come near him he'd fucking stab them in the nuts. Bad enough they'd shot him and kidnapped him, but they'd also touched him and forced him to change, stuck him in this form with no say or control?

Yeah, they were fucking dead.

"Shut up and get him, you pussy," Jones snapped and shoved the guy in front of him.

"I don't see why we can't fucking tranq him."

"Boss said to make sure he stayed conscious."

Anderson lunged at them, mentally snickering when they bellowed in alarm.

Unfortunately, Jones recovered fast, dodged to the side, then rammed into him with all the weight of a minotaur and the skill of a… whatever football player did the tackling. Anderson slammed against the wall, lost his footing, tried to jerk free but was held all too firmly in place.

A sharp banging sound, followed by a crash, made all three of them startle—and it was just enough for Jones to loosen his grip, just enough for Anderson to knock him away and get back to his corner. Which was not ideal, but at least he wasn't pinned to a wall anymore.

Jones and the other guy drew knives, but before either could act, a huge, looming figure appeared behind them, lifted them like they weighed nothing, and threw them across the stable. Stern shot Anderson a brief, hard smile, then went to finish the job. Anderson heard the always pleasant sound of a head being slammed into hardwood, a squeal of pain followed by another slam, then nothing.

"All clear!" Stern called out.

Anderson slowly left his stall, walked down the wide stable to where Stern had lifted up the smaller guy and was removing his shifter ring. He threw the man aside once he had it, then bit his lip and smeared his blood over the ring.

Shifter rings were specially coded to the person wearing them, mostly because shifting was not an easy process to begin with and some types were even more complicated than others. Lynn, for example, had to shift a whole hell of a lot of weight, never mind translating from a creature that needed large amounts of salt water. That wasn't even getting into matters of sex and gender. So all rings were coded to owner when purchased or assigned, specially made to account for all the unique requirements that particular shifter might need. The ability to shift without the use of technology was one of the most highly prized abilities in shifter society… and it always seemed to be in the crazy ones who had to be killed. Just look at Wynn.

But at the end of the day, shifting was shifting, and a ring could be forced to work for someone other than its owner.

Anderson watched, wincing inwardly in sympathy, as Stern began to change. One of the side effects of using someone else's ring was that the pain-markers were off. But Stern, the son of a bitch, didn't make a sound, just silently endured as the light covered him.

Stern shook himself as it faded, and that was way more of his boss than Anderson had ever wanted to see, but at least it wasn't a bad view. Anderson stamped one hoof, shook his head.

"Shut up," Stern replied, smiling briefly even though Anderson could see from the set of his shoulders and the tightness around his eyes that he was still shaking off the shifting pain. Stern knelt beside Jones and the other guy, rifled through their clothes, and pulled off Jones's ring. "You want to try? He's a minotaur, so at least it's in the same church, if drastically different pews."

Anderson stamped his hooves again, but lightly touched his horn to Stern's shoulder in confirmation.

"Brace yourself, then, and I'm sorry about this." Stern used a knife he'd pulled from one of the goons to make a small cut on Anderson's side, then pressed the ring to it.

Not being anywhere near as tough as Stern, Anderson screamed as the shift overtook him and lay curled up in a trembling ball of agony once the fun was over. "That. Fucking. Sucked."

Stern huffed a laugh and helped him sit up. "Yes, it did. Always does."

"Yeah, whatever, Mr. Macho. You didn't make a peep."

"Not something I learned to do easily, believe me. But more times than I care to count it was be quiet or be dead." He looked at Jones and the other guy, grimacing. "Their clothes aren't going to fit me, and they smell awful."

"Beggars, choosers." Anderson squatted down beside the guy he didn't know, who was still going to be too big for him, but Jones's clothes would fit Stern slightly better. "They have any weapons on them?"

Stern shook his head and began to strip Jones. "No. Just smart enough not to do that, though they really should have checked on me and then tranquilized you. I don't know why they thought they could just lead you away. Thanks for waking me up. Whatever they gave me still has me feeling groggy; if not for you, I probably wouldn't have woken for another hour at least."

"Sure thing," Anderson replied. He made a face as he held up the black t-shirt Assface had been wearing, but pulled it on. The pants were definitely way too big, but at least the belt would probably keep him from giving anyone else a free show. The shoes he didn't bother with. They'd be more hindrance than help as big as they were.

Jones had a rubber band around his wrist, and Anderson took it to pull his hair back. "We need to find a phone." He stood up, stretched, wincing as his shoulder pulled. Shifting had obviously fixed the worst of the damage, but the fucker would probably hurt for at least a week. Shift-heals always paid back hastiness with lingering pain. "And weapons. And Martinez's head so I can put a bullet in it."

"Martinez, huh? I thought I heard you say his name, back at the house, but then this asshole got me." Stern nudged the guy Anderson had stripped, then looked at Jones. "I'm not surprised. This guy is a regular informant for Martinez. I'm guessing it's less informant and more assistant. Forget a bullet; I'm going to kick his head in. Let's go. If they were coming for you and needed you alive, then they've been in contact with someone—or plan to be soon—and need to prove you're alive."

Which meant Martinez and whoever was with him were going to start getting impatient and come looking to figure out what the fuck was taking so long, as the person they were talking to wasn't going to have much patience of their own.

Lynn? Anderson was afraid to hope, though if anyone could find them this fast, it was Lynn. He'd known plenty of people in life who couldn't handle the possessive tendencies of shifters like dragons and krakens, but Anderson had never minded possessive. After so many exes that couldn't wait to see him go, it was nice having someone who would literally tear down the world for him. He didn't give a fuck what terrible things that might say about him.

He followed Stern out of the stable, hugging the wall as they walked along the length of it. Nothing was in front of them except trees, half-dead grass, and dark sky.

Stern threw out a hand to signal halt as he reached the edge of the stable and peered around it. After a moment, he slipped back and turned to Anderson. "Big house. Three stories, though the top looks like an overblown attic. Two SUVs and a town car in the driveway, or at least what I can see of it. I think one of them is Martinez's personal SUV, which is monumentally stupid."

"Well, it's not like he's been a shining example of subtlety," Anderson muttered.

"He did get away with it for longer than any of us wants to know," Stern replied, smiling faintly when Anderson made a face. "I'm thinking we go in through the kitchen, sneak our way through to wherever they're holed up. Front rooms, to judge by the windows that are lit up. No idea how many men are there, though 'too many' is probably a good guess."

Anderson made a face. "Hopefully we won't have to deal with them all at the same time. Lead the way, boss."

Stern nodded, slipped around the edge of the stable. Anderson followed close behind, but not so close they'd get in each other's way in a fight. They darted across the open field from the stable to the house, pressed against the back wall of the house. Listened.

"I don't hear anything," Anderson said quietly.

"Agreed. But if they're at the front of the house we wouldn't." Stern gestured toward the kitchen door, then climbed over the edge of the broken, leaning porch and crept to the door. He slowly rose up to peer through the grimy glass that filled the top half of the door. After a moment, he sank back down, and motioned for Anderson to follow him.

Climbing onto the porch, Anderson moved to the far side of the door, waited until Stern moved back, then reached up, turned the handle, and slowly pulled the door open. Stern moved in first, rising to full height as he stepped into the kitchen. He motioned and Anderson followed him, carefully pulling the door shut behind him.

Two handguns lay on the counter next to plates of half-eaten sandwiches and potato chips.

"Idiots," Stern muttered and took one of the guns, checking it thoroughly and waiting as Anderson cleared the second weapon.

Sadly, Anderson didn't see a phone anywhere. He raised his brows at Stern.

Frowning pensively, Stern walked on silent feet to each of the two doors that led from the kitchen. After a moment, he returned to the first door and gave the follow signal. Stern led the way down the hall, Anderson covering them, as they steadily made their way toward the sound of voices. They stopped when the quiet talking abruptly turned into Martinez getting loud and sharp. "Go find out what the fuck is taking those two morons so long. So help me, if that dumb slut unicorn has gotten loose, I'm shooting all of you in the goddamn face. Move it."

Stern and Anderson ducked into the open door of what proved to be a bathroom as feet came stomping toward and then past them. Anderson looked at Stern, quirked a brow. In reply, Stern rolled his eyes but held out one hand, curled in a loose fist, as they played Ro Sham Bo. Making a face when he lost, Stern squeezed Anderson's arm in a silent order to be careful, then slipped away to tail after the men headed for the stable.

That left Anderson with Martinez. Good. He owed the son of a bitch one. Creeping down the hallway, he stopped just short of the edge and knelt, listening. "I said they're coming, stop your bitching. It's not my fault your little girlfriend is so fucking heavy and annoying in horse mode."

Anderson's heart gave a lurch and jumped into his throat. Martinez was talking to Lynn. What leverage had Lynn found to demand Anderson and Stern be returned? Were they able to track Martinez via his phone? Probably not, if Martinez was staying on the line to bitch at Lynn the whole time.

Movement caught Anderson's eye, and he counted two more goons standing near each of the two large windows in the room. Martinez sat on a dubious-looking couch in the middle of the room. Anderson vaguely remembered them saying something about a cabin when they'd taken him… But this looked more like something Lynn and other spoiled rich boys would call a cabin and the normal world called a country estate.

Gunshots drowned out Martinez's bitching. He and his men all stood up, grabbing guns. Anderson fired, taking out the men at the windows—one in the chest, the other in the throat. The sudden burst of fractured life energy smacked him hard enough he froze. Martinez whipped around, fired at him, and Anderson jerked back into the hallway.

When the shooting paused, he stood and turned back around the corner and fired off three more shots, managing to take Martinez at the knee and send him to the floor. Anderson grit his teeth against the agony of feeling Martinez's pain, fresh and hot, all the worse mingled with the way he could feel the other two men dying.

Striding into the room, he kicked Martinez's gun away. "Is there anyone else in the house?"

"No," Martinez said.

Anderson sneered. "Anybody else going to be arriving/returning soon?"

"No," Martinez said again, but that time he was lying.

Dropping to his knees, Anderson rolled Martinez to his stomach and got his arms behind his back, pinned them as he rifled Martinez's pockets. "Aha." Pulling out the cuffs Martinez had in one pocket of his shitty leather jacket, he got them in place.

He checked on the other two, though he knew they were already dead, had felt the last of their life go out. He looked them over anyway, hands trembling against the violence and pain that lingered on the air. He vaguely recognized one of them as somebody they'd hauled in before, but couldn't be sure. The grunts and lackeys all started to look alike after a while. Double-checking Martinez was secure, ignoring his pleas do something about the goddamn pain already, you stupid bitch, he went to secure the rest of the house.

And nearly jumped straight into the ceiling when he almost ran into Stern. "How are the stables?"

"Stalls are getting pretty full, and I ran out of rope," Stern replied. "House?"

"Need to check the upstairs, and we've got company coming."

Stern grinned. "Call us some friends to make everything nice and even. I'm sure Lynn is getting ready to start in with the murdering. I'll clear the upstairs."

Nodding, Anderson left him to it and returned to the living room. He found Martinez's phone under a chair that looked like it had been gutted to make a nest or something.

He pressed the phone to his ear, but the person on the other end had hung up. He pulled up the call log, smiled when he saw Lynn's number. Hitting redial, he pressed the phone to his ear again.

It didn't take more than a ring and a half before it was answered. "Martinez, you stupid fucking son of a—"

"Lynn," Anderson said quietly, but the word might as well have been shouted, it rendered Lynn so absolutely quiet.

Then he gave a shaky laugh. "Sparkleson, you bastard, you goddamn useless fucking unicorn. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Can you track this phone?"

"No, been trying. He's done something to it. Can you tell us anything?"

"It's an old house, a step up from a farmhouse, probably a vacation home of some sort, though it hasn't been used in a long time. There's a stable. That's where they were keeping us. I don't think we're too far from Annie's house, though, they wouldn't want to be too far from the city in case they needed to get back in a hurry."

"I'll get Rudy to figure it out. Is Stern okay?"

"Yeah, we're both fine." Anderson held the phone so tightly he was half-surprised it didn't crack. "How did you know Martinez was part of this?"

Lynn laughed. "Wasn't hard. Their bullshit has held up for a long time, but once it broke, it shattered. The good governor has gone to ground, but it won't take us long to dig him out. How is our buddy Martinez doing?"

Anderson turned and glanced at him. "Secured. Wounded, but he'll be all right. Two of his goons are dead, my doing. I don't know what Stern did with the others, but there's at least four in the stable, probably just unconscious but could be dead. He's clearing the upstairs. Hurry up and get here. Martinez was expecting company and I'm tired of shooting people. This has turned into a pretty shitty birthday."

"I'll make it better, Sparkleson, never fear. Rudy has you. Piedmont Stables, went out of business like twenty years ago, was bought up by Governor Martinez last year. We'll be there in about an hour."

"See you soon," Anderson replied. "Love you."

"Love you, too." Lynn hung up, and Anderson shoved the phone in his pocket.

He turned at the sound of footsteps, brows lifting when he saw Stern was in his own clothes. "Where did you find those?"

"An upstairs room," Stern replied, and thrust a bundle of cloth into Anderson's arms. "Here are yours. Didn't see our phones or rings. You get in touch with someone?"

"Yeah, I called Lynn. He was the one on the phone with Martinez."

Stern nodded. "Get changed. I'll see what I can do about Martinez's leg. Did Lynn say whether or not they'd figured out this whole goddamn mess?"

"Not in so many words, but yeah, I think this case is in the bag. He said something about the governor having made a run for it, but they should have him soon."

Stern sighed, scrubbed at his face. "What a goddamn mess. I'm taking a vacation after this, I swear." He dropped his hands, stared pensively at Anderson. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Anderson said. "Or will be. Nothing a few hours of sleep won't fix." He left before Stern could pester him further, traveling through the big house to change in a dark room as far from the living room as he could get. It was dusty, mildewed, and smelled like animals. The important part was that it was mercifully free of fresh death and recent pain.

If he'd had any remaining doubts about quitting, they had been firmly squashed. He wanted out. He was done, done, and also fucking done. The job had been good while it lasted, but he had gone way past his saturation point.

He just hoped Lynn wasn't going to be pissed with him. Transferring to a different department had been hard enough; Lynn would really hate not having him close by every day.

Leaving the borrowed clothes on the floor, he slowly returned to the living room, where Stern had taken Martinez's spot on the couch. On the floor, Martinez was out cold, his leg crudely treated. Anderson wrinkled his nose because the general reek of animal and neglect was not helped by the bodies or Martinez's wound. "Can we wait somewhere else? Outside, if possible."

"I was just waiting for you," Stern said, standing up. "Wait on the front porch; I'll grab us some snacks, because I don't know about you, but I'm about to crash from the adrenaline. If we can't sleep, we should at least have snacks."

Anderson nodded and happily headed outside, sitting on the rickety porch steps and staring out at the far-reaching night, all the glittering stars that weren't visible when living in the middle of a city. Stern joined him a few minutes later, handed over a bag of potato chips and another of miniature candy bars. Ignoring the potato chips, Anderson began a slow and steady destruction of the chocolate. "So how much shit are we going to be taking from HQ and the public for arresting the governor? All those morons who say shifters shouldn't hold office are going to have a fucking field day with this stupid mess."

"I'm more interested—" Stern broke off as a phone started ringing.

Dropping the candy, Anderson dug the phone out of his pocket and answered it. "Meadows."

"Put Stern on the line, Agent Meadows," said a cool female voice. Belinda Victor, if he wasn't mistaken.

Anderson made a face. "It's for you." He handed the phone to Stern, snagged the potato chips, and alternated bites of salty and sweet.

Had it been an hour yet? What the fuck was taking so long? He wanted Lynn, damn it. How had his birthday gone from presents and cheesecake and fucking Lynn senseless to kidnapping and upending the BPSI? He opened another candy bar and bit down.

He turned to look at Stern as he hung up and set the phone on the porch. "So what's up?"

"They've got the governor and about a dozen other people in custody, and a long list of others to arrest. The details are still getting sorted out, but the short version is: Governor Martinez wanted the microchip contracts. He had stiff competition though, especially in Trident, who were prepared to do whatever it took to convert their facilities to handle the microchip production. Given their abilities with shifter rings, it's likely the government would have gone with them. Martinez was blackmailing Myer—money at first, then he wanted information that would give him an edge to get those contracts. That's when Myer bugged and contacted the BPSI. Except he wound up talking to Martinez, who tried to take care of the problem in thug fashion. Myer went to ground."

Anderson made a face. "And Martinez couldn't do anything with Annie because her going missing or getting dead was going to be noticed by you, and the whole can of worms would have blown up. But then they realized she was going to talk, panicked, and tried to kill her."

"And they ran into us," Stern finished.

"What the fuck did they have on Myer to blackmail him?"

Stern snorted. "What do they always have on people in suits, be they good, bad, or otherwise?"

Anderson made a face. It was always one of the three things: murder, sexual fetish, or affair. "I'm going to vote sexual fetish."

"Ding, ding, we have a winner. Drew won't admit to the particular fetish, but he did say that Martinez nailed him through a club they both frequent. That one on Jupiter Ave we're always visiting to talk to elusive clients."

"Even when threatened with arrest, gotta get their rocks off," Anderson said wryly. "And everyone calls me the slut."

Stern smiled. "Share the candy."

Anderson took another candy bar, then handed the bag over. "So what's going to happen when we get back?"

"Meeting after meeting after meeting," Stern said with a sigh. "So many hearings I'm already in sore need of a beer to drown out the agony of them. Nobody is going to be very happy with me for not handling this case better."

"I don't see how you handled it badly."

"That won't stop them from saying so. I wouldn't be surprised if a letter of resignation came out of this."

"Even though you did nothing wrong."

Stern shrugged. "I had a mole right under my nose, four dead agents, a governor in handcuffs, and god only knows what else we'll root out before this is over. Even if they don't demand my resignation as necessary to keeping higher ups happy, I may do it anyway. I'm too old to be taken hostage, and I'm definitely too old for government conspiracy drama." He raked a hand through his hair. "I think a bunch of us are going to be job-hunting soon."

"You and me at any rate, possibly Lynn if he's broken as many rules and laws as I suspect," Anderson replied. He started to say more, but the sudden flare of headlights coming up the road made him stop. Dropping the food, he and Stern stood and withdrew behind the wide columns framing the front door, guns at the ready.

The car stopped, and Anderson relaxed slightly to see it was a BPSI Charger. The driver door opened, and Anderson abandoned his gun as he rushed down the steps, clinging tightly as Lynn swept him up in a rib-crushing embrace. "Took you long enough, Wriggly."

"Shut up, you stupid unicorn," Lynn replied, then held his face and bent to kiss him, mouth impatient, bruising, but exactly what Anderson needed. When they finally broke apart, they were both panting lightly. "Are you all right?" He rested a thumb at the corner of Anderson's right eye.

Anderson turned to rest his head against Lynn's hand, smiling faintly when Lynn shifted to cradle his head better. "Been better, but I'll live. I want to go home."

"Soon," Lynn said. "The others should be here shortly. You've just got to give them your report and get looked over, then we can go. Where's your ring?"

"Don't know," Anderson said. "It wasn't with my clothes; one of the goons probably stole it to sell later." He moved in a bit closer, rested his head against Lynn's breasts. "You don't normally feel like changing it up in the middle of a case."

"Director put me and Rudy under house arrest. I pulled a switch with Leslie so I could search for you. Should have known it was a waste of time, that you'd get yourself out of trouble." He drew back enough to kiss Anderson again, then gently carded fingers through his hair. "I'm glad you're okay, Sparkles."

Anderson didn't reply, just went back to leaning against Lynn, enjoying his warmth, his scent, the way he always felt like home. "You have the world's best boob pillow."

Lynn snickered, looping his arms around Anderson's shoulders, ensuring he wouldn't be moving until Lynn let him go. If he knew Lynn at all, he was fighting a need to go monster of the deep, drag Anderson into the water, and tangle him up in tentacles. On a normal day, Lynn was a solid eight out of ten for possessiveness. On days like this, it was more like a fifteen out of ten. "I'm sorry your birthday turned out so crappy. This was not what I had planned."

"What did you have planned?"

"Other than a lot of sex? I bought you a house," Lynn said quietly.

Anderson froze, squirmed free enough to crane his neck up. "I'm sorry, I must have heard wrong. Did you say a house?"

"Yes. I bought you a house." Lynn pouted.

"Have you lost your mind?" Anderson demanded, not sure if he wanted to shake him or kiss him.

"Well, I figured the condo wasn't a great place to raise kids, even if that's not happening anytime soon, and I know you've been tense and kind of fed up with work lately, especially after that stupid asshole turned you into stone… I figured somewhere quiet and out of the city we could go on the weekends, or whenever the hell we wanted, would be nice. I'm seriously fucking pissed Martinez ruined the surprise, because I was going to take you there after dinner so we could break it in." He leered ever so briefly.

"Oh, my god, I'm going to kill all of you," Anderson said. "Martinez and his goons for ruining my birthday; you for getting completely out of control on the present buying. How am I supposed to compete with a house, you stupid piece of overcooked calamari?"

Lynn just grinned, held the sides of his head, and kissed him again. "I have lots of ideas. Most of them involving a French maid outfit."

"When hell freezes over," Anderson retorted, but before they could really launch into an argument over who would be wearing what, more cars came driving up the road, and they all slid back into work mode.

By the time they were free to go, it was an hour of the morning Anderson preferred not to think about. A car dropped them off at home, but fuck if he remembered the time between getting out of the car and falling naked into bed beside Lynn. He remained awake just long enough to cuddle in close and kiss Lynn briefly, then was out like a light.

*~*~*

Anderson woke up to the smell of something sweet: berries and cinnamon sugar, underscored by good coffee. Some music filtered into his consciousness next, and he was not at all surprised to find the bed empty when he rolled over. Given all the sunshine in the room, it must be early afternoon. He was surprised only that he hadn't slept longer.

Rolling out of bed, he climbed into the shower and quickly scrubbed down, glad to really and truly be rid of every last scrap of Martinez. When he was done showering, he wandered back out to the bedroom and pulled on a pair of boxers just in case there were other people about.

He was completely unsurprised to see a small jewelry box waiting for him. Opening it, he smiled at the showy shifter ring inside: white gold with opal roses, the shifter stones set into the wings of a butterfly perched between the flowers, the rest of it made from blue, yellow, and white diamonds. Shaking his head, he slid the ring on his finger, threw the stolen one in the trash, and left the bedroom.

Thankfully, there were no guests, just Lynn humming along cheerfully with the music as he put together a ridiculous, fancy looking breakfast. Though it looked more like a breakfast banquet. The white boxes on the counter indicated one of their favorite bakeries, but Lynn must have whined at them to do something special because some of the food set out was definitely not on their regular menu.

Though, honestly, Anderson was way more interested in Lynn, wearing nothing but dark pink lace hipster panties, than breakfast. "Good morning to me."

Lynn looked up from where he was fussing with a couple of plates at the island, smiled slow and evil when he saw Anderson and the direction of his gaze. "Good morning, Sparkleson."

"Thanks for the ring." Anderson pushed him up against the island and kissed him, feeding at that delectable mouth like it was the feast laid out for him. Lynn kissed happily back, hands smoothing down Anderson's warm, still-damp skin to grab handfuls of his ass, hitch him up a bit, changing the angle of the kiss just slightly. Anderson sucked on his bottom lip, dug his teeth into it, then kissed him properly again, tongues tangling together, lips sliding, wet and messy and eager. Pulling away slightly, he ran his hands down Lynn's smooth chest. "You switched back."

Lynn shrugged. "Can change again if you want. So you like the ring?"

"Of course I like it. And I love you in whatever form you take," Anderson replied. "I like it all, you know that—especially when it's you. And there are a lot of birthday shenanigans to make up for, so less talking, more sexing." He ran his fingers over the soft lace, caressed and teased over Lynn's cock while his mouth sucked and licked at all that lovely skin. "Did I miss anything important while I slept? I assume we don't have to go in to work today."

"Stern said he'd call if he needed us. He said you can email your letter of resignation, and I was already fired, minus some formalities."

Anderson went still, ignoring Lynn's soft noise of protest as he drew back and looked up. "Fired? Why the fuck did they fire you?"

"Disobeying orders, reckless behavior, jeopardizing the case… There's a long list that frankly wasn't hard to put together. You'd be the first to say that I obey rules because I feel like it, not because I think I have to."

"You are a spoiled rich brat," Anderson replied. "But you don't deserve to be fired."

Lynn shrugged. "You're quitting; Rudy is quitting after they chose to suspend him even though he never left the condo until ordered. I'm pretty sure Stern is quitting, though he hasn't said so. What's the point in staying when all the fun people are going? Now I believe somebody said less talking, more sexing."

"We're not finished with this conversation," Anderson replied, but tugged him away from the island and into the living room, pushing him down on the soft rug between the entertainment center and the coffee table. "Now this is a birthday present," he murmured, interspersing the words with soft kisses, working steadily down from Lynn's mouth to neck, chest. He dragged his tongue and teeth over the well-toned belly, nuzzling slowly down to the hint of soft curls peeking out from the waistband of the panties. "You do look good in lace."

"I look good in everything," Lynn replied, letting his legs fall open wider, giving Anderson plenty of room to work as he nosed at the lace, mouthing at Lynn's cock through the fabric. Lynn pushed slightly, hands skating impatiently over Anderson's head and shoulders.

Anderson chuckled, tugged the panties down enough to free Lynn's cock, mouthed along its length before sucking on the head, lingering there briefly before slowly working his way further down. Lynn's groans filled the room, one hand sinking into Anderson's still-wet hair, the other trying futilely to get a grip on the carpet. His hips moved slightly, forcing his cock deeper into Anderson's mouth. "Sparkles…"

He did like when Lynn said his name that way, all his arrogance and posturing falling away to leave a beautiful kraken happy to be at his mercy. He looked up through his lashes, admired the flush to Lynn's skin, the way his tongue slipped out to lick his lips, then bent back to his task. He took Lynn's cock deep, working tongue and throat, losing himself in the taste and feel of it, pinning Lynn's hips when he tried to start thrusting. He pulled back when it seemed like Lynn was close to coming, chuckled at the threats and swearing that elicited. Then he slowly went back to sucking, working Lynn's cock until his jaw ached and Lynn was reduced to ragged, jumbled threats.

The hand in his hair tightened not quite to the point of pain, the only warning he had before Lynn spilled warm and salty down his throat. Anderson slowly pulled off his cock, licking Lynn clean along the way. Sitting up, he drew the panties off entirely, lovely though they were, then ditched his own boxers. He spread Lynn's heavy thighs further apart, dipped one hand down to push two fingers into Lynn's hole, not at all surprised to find he was already slick and stretched. He shivered, bent to drop wet kisses on Lynn's heated, sweaty skin, nipping sharply before drawing back again. "You've been busy while I slept: getting fired, getting breakfast, getting yourself ready for me."

"Been too keyed up to sleep much," Lynn replied. "Stop being a jerk and fuck me already."

"But your suffering is my favorite part." Anderson snickered when that got him a monster of the deep look. He leaned down to take a kiss, long and deep, tasting coffee and cinnamon in Lynn's mouth. Drawing back, he licked the taste of Lynn from his lips, withdrew his fingers, and pushed easily into his body, shuddering as he adjusted to the tight heat, the feel of Lynn wrapped around him.

Lynn had ruined him for anyone else in more ways than one. How could anyone else compete with the adoration, the snarking, the way he felt safe and wanted, wrapped up in Lynn's arms or tentacles. The sex alone had him spoiled rotten, though he'd rather stop having sex than give up even a single bit of everything else he loved about Lynn.

At a soft warning growl, Anderson finally began to move, bracing his arms on either side of Lynn and fucking into him with hard, deep, steady strokes, slowing down whenever Lynn tried to increase the pace, stopping entirely at one point, laughing when that got him yanked down and his lips bruised with a punishing kiss.

Drawing back, breathless and thrumming with the energy being with Lynn always infused, Anderson gave up the teasing and began to fuck him harder, faster, sweat stinging his eyes and making the back of his neck itch, skin rubbing against skin, Lynn's cock hard again where it was trapped between their bodies. Anderson drove into him one last time, then came, moaning out Lynn's name.

When he could breathe properly again, he slowly pulled out of Lynn's body and sprawled on top of him, completely uncaring of the mess, settling his head in the crook of Lynn's throat.

Heavy arms draped over him, soft lips brushing his cheek. "I hope you're enjoying your presents even if they're late."

Memory jolted through Anderson then; he squirmed free and sat up, smacked Lynn's chest. "Did you seriously buy us a fucking house?"

Lynn laughed. "It took you this long to remember that?" He grabbed Anderson's hand when he went to smack Lynn again. "Yes, I bought you a house. Would you like to go see it?"

"No, I never want to look at my fancy new house, ever. How ridiculous is it?"

"It's not ridiculous," Lynn groused. "Nothing I buy is ridiculous."

Anderson started laughing, and only laughed harder when Lynn swatted his ass. "Yeah, nothing at all. Not your two dozen tentacle-theme tie pins, or the three dozen ocean themed cufflinks, or—" He broke off with an oof as Lynn reversed their positions, pinned him to the carpet, and kept him from speaking further by the expedient means of a very thorough kiss.

"I don't think you have any room to talk about ridiculous, Sparkleson."

"Never said I didn't," Anderson said and shoved him off. "I want food, and then I want to see my present."

Lynn rolled his eyes but climbed to his feet and then gave Anderson a hand up. "Yes, my lord and master." He stole another quick kiss, then led the way to the bedroom so they could grab another quick shower.

Back in the kitchen, the coffee had cooled but was still delicious while Lynn made a fresh pot.

Anderson had no idea where to even start with the rest of the spread. He didn't recognize half the pastries laid out, though they all seemed to be about seventy percent butter, twenty percent flaky dough, and the rest was berries and sweet, sticky glaze.

There were other things—eggs, bacon, sausage. Anderson ignored all of that, completely addicted to cinnamon rolls, danishes, croissants, and everything else Lynn had set out. "I'm going to weigh nine hundred pounds if you keep feeding me like this."

Lynn grinned. "More Sparkleson to hold on to is not something I'm going to complain about, but I doubt it. Everybody knows unicorns exist for and because of sugar." Also their life-reading power was a 'constant state ability', meaning it never really shut off or stopped working. The ability was severely lessened in Anderson's human form, but it was still there, constantly feeling and reading everything around him. He was long used to blocking it out, but there was no off switch. Which meant it was a constant drain, burning calories fast enough that he would have to try really, really fucking hard to gain serious weight. He'd been pretty chubby as a kid, but once his abilities had kicked in that hadn't lasted.

Finally full, Anderson pushed away from the table and stood. "Thank you for breakfast, Wriggly."

"My pleasure." Lynn pushed him against the island, cupped the back of his head with both hands, and kissed him, the taste of his saltier breakfast mingling with the sweet in Anderson's mouth. "I really can't wait to get you in the water."

"Is that what we're doing now?" Anderson asked, shivering as clever fingers danced along his skin, dipped beneath the waistband of his boxers.

He pouted when Lynn drew away, not even close to mollified when he replied, "No, because then we'll never make it to the house. Worse, they might call us in to work to tie up loose ends. Comber didn't even seem very sorry to fire me, the jackass. I'm not doing anything to make their lives easier. Come on." He stole another quick kiss, kept hold of Anderson's hand as they headed back to the bedroom.

Anderson admired the view of Lynn in pale blue and white lace the whole way, and despite Lynn's determination to be on their way, it was still a good hour before they managed to get dressed and down to the parking garage. "So where is the house located?"

"Oh, you have to wait for that. No way am I ruining the moment of discovery."

Anderson groaned. "Oh, god, it's in something with an obnoxious name like Golden Meadows Community, isn't it? Why do I put up with you?"

"Sex and an endless supply of sweets." He grinned when Anderson made a face at him, pausing at the exit of the parking garage to slide his sunglasses on. He was dressed with shocking casualness for Lynn: jeans and a button down shirt made of pink, faintly shimmery fabric that clung distractingly. He'd pinned little silver octopuses to the points of the collar; they matched his tentacle earrings and bracelet. As always, he wore the unicorn necklace Anderson had given him ages ago. Lynn was even wearing sandals, fancy leather strappy things that Anderson thought were way too much effort, though Lynn wore them as well as he wore everything else. "As if I would let you live in a place called Meadows. That's a little much even for me."

"No, it's not," Anderson retorted and fiddled with the radio until he found music they both liked.

At some point he drifted off again, enjoying the air, Lynn's stupid flashy convertible, and a chance to enjoy being together with nothing hanging over their heads. Except finding new jobs, but whatever, problem for another day.

He groaned when Lynn nudged him awake, then jerked up as he remembered what was going on.

The way Lynn rolled, he'd expected some huge, ridiculous, over the top but beautiful mansion-type thing. "Lynn…" The house was… well, fairytale. It looked like some cute little fairy godmother cottage, tucked away among artfully draping trees, half-covered in ivy and climbing roses. There was a little stone fountain on one side of the yard, complete with little pixies and fairies sitting on flowers. A stone walk led up to the front door, which looked to be a Dutch door. The shutters were red, and the house seemed to be one story with an attic window that hinted at it being usable as a second floor.

"Do you like it?" Lynn asked.

Anderson looked at him, smiling at the anxiety that actually filled Lynn's face. He hadn't seen Lynn so miserably tense since he'd admitted he wanted kids—mini-Sparklesons, as he was most fond of saying, which was way more adorable than Anderson would ever tell him. "You're an idiot. Of course I like it."

"Unicorns," Lynn scoffed, but ruined it by grinning. "It took forever to get fixed up just so. I had to fire two different landscapers. Come on, you have to see the backyard." He grabbed Anderson's hand and dragged him around the house, through a fence nearly invisible behind more ivy and roses, along a stone path that led to…

"Beautiful," Anderson said, letting go of Lynn's hand to step further into the yard. More flowers, a beautiful little manmade pond that was probably saltwater. A stone patio leading from the edge of the pond up a short set of steps to a sunroom with a patio set and lounge chairs already set out. He stepped closer to the pond, enjoying the clean, salty smell of it, surrounded by plants and flowers that added their own sweet, green scent. "I'm pretty sure this is leaps and bounds past spoiling me rotten."

"The yard is all for me, I promise." Lynn said, smile widening. "There was a pool here, but I had it torn out and this put in. Not much yard left over for anything else, but I figured the privacy and the pond were better over something that would require mowing." He wrinkled his nose.

Anderson chuckled, then stripped off his t-shirt and threw it toward one of the lounge chairs, sending his shoes, pants, and boxers right after them. "Let's try it out." He knelt and slid into the water, which proved to be about the same temperature as the pool back at the condo.

He dipped beneath the water to get his head wet and felt the first tentacle twine around him before he'd surfaced. More wrapped around him, firm, slick, and slightly sticky from the rainbow-sheen fluid that was evidence of an aroused kraken. Anderson laughed breathlessly as Lynn drew him in, wrapped his arms loosely around Lynn's neck, and kissed him, slow and easy, while more tentacles wrapped around his thighs and arms. More curled across his back so he could let them take his weight, leave himself completely at Lynn's mercy.

If there was anything sexier than being at Lynn's mercy, Anderson didn't care to hear about it. Nothing was more enthralling than being wrapped up, held tightly, kept safe in a situation that could turn dangerous—even fatal—very fast. Lynn was many things, but careless wasn't one of them.

Anderson moaned as he was spread wide, tilted back slightly so Lynn could nip and suck at his throat while one slick tentacle teased at his hole. He shivered as another of the slender, evenly-sized tentacles traced the path of Lynn's mouth on his neck, leaving slick, slightly sticky trails. Another joined it, slipping down to tease at his nipples before one shifted back up to loop around his throat, squeeze gently, drawing out another long moan.

It was shortly muffled as another tentacle pushed into his mouth right as the other breached him, pushed in deep, twisting and rubbing delightfully. He sucked on the one in his mouth, moaning at the feeling of being full, nearly overstuffed. The salty, faintly sweet taste. Salt was not something he would have expected to associate with sex, to develop a reaction to, but anything that smelled or tasted strongly of salt provoked thoughts of Lynn and being fucked senseless in a pool of saltwater, of being filled so thoroughly he always felt slightly bereft when he was empty again.

He sucked harder at the tentacle in his mouth, trembling when a second one pushed in while two more teased at his hole. They pushed, nudged, withdrew, pressed again, slowly and thoroughly working him while more tentacles played with the rest of his body, interspersed with sucking bites and licks from Lynn's hungry mouth and strokes from those long, too-clever fingers.

Anderson never did much in the way of reciprocation when they did this, but he didn't really have to—all Lynn needed and wanted was Anderson at his mercy, the taste of want and need in the water.

Dragging his eyes open, Anderson met Lynn's, which had gone all sea monster at some point, purple-blue where they should have been white, the middle a solid dark blue. That didn't happen often, especially in his partial form, but it was hot when it did because that meant Lynn was 200% gone. Anderson squirmed, swallowed, working the tentacles in his mouth, flushing hot at the way that made Lynn moan, lap and suck at the corner of his mouth, tongue tangling with the tentacles.

The two teasing at his ass pushed in to join the one already there, making Anderson scream in shock and clamp down on them, causing him and Lynn to shudder. His eyes slid shut again as he let the tentacles take all of his weight again, unable to do more than hang there in the water and let the sea monster have him.

Another tentacle wrapped around his cock, worked him hard, pulling out another scream as Anderson came apart. He slumped even more heavily in Lynn's hold, groaning as he was reeled in, the tentacles carefully pulled from his mouth. Lynn kissed him gently, lapped away the traces of himself that remained. "You are perfection, Sparkles."

"I like hearing it, even if it isn't true." Anderson looped his arms back around Lynn shoulders, kissed him again, shuddering as the tentacles pulled out of him. "You're in fine form today."

"I've been dying to bring you here since I started working on it."

Anderson eyed him. "When did you start working on it?"

"I'm not telling," Lynn said, eyes dropping, cheeks turning the slightest bit pink.

"You're ridiculous." Anderson leaned in, nuzzled his cheek, kissed him when Lynn looked up. "When?"

"Not long after all the drama with Wynn."

"Predictable. You're lucky you're cute. This house isn't your style, though. Figured it would be something… bigger, flashier."

"I keep telling you it's your house, you useless unicorn. Can't you stop sparkling long enough to listen?"

Anderson tugged at his hair. "If it's my house, it's our house, you stupid piece of seafood."

"I still wanted it to be a suitably whimsical cottage for my frolicking unicorn." He lapped at a mark he'd left on Anderson's neck. "All I require is the pond and the privacy, and there's plenty of both." He moved them across the pond, lifted Anderson up to set him on the edge, nuzzling lazy at his stomach. "There's a basket with goodies tucked into the bushes there."

"You're a scheming schemer." Anderson drew back and climbed to his feet, fetched the basket that proved to be a ridiculous fancy cooler. Carrying it back to the pool, he pulled out champagne and orange juice, as well as champagne flutes.

Lynn climbed out of the pool, tentacles still hanging lazily in it. He dragged the cooler over, pulled out the berries and cinnamon bread inside. He tore off a piece of the bread, offering it up.

Anderson took it, sucked on Lynn's fingers, enjoying the way that blew his eyes right up. Pulling the finger out of his mouth slowly, he handed over one of the mimosas. Sipping his own, he looked at the pond, the waist-high fence that marked the end of the yard perhaps a dozen feet past it, and all the trees and other foliage that hid them away from the rest of the world. "So do we have neighbors? I didn't even notice."

"None terribly close. I said I bought the house, but I also bought land. It's right in the middle of about forty acres, most of it wildlife. I haven't really bothered to meet the neighbors yet, though I've seen them on their porches whenever I drive by. You should have seen this place before I fixed it up: needed a lot of work, and apparently I'm picky and demanding."

"Never say."

Lynn slapped his leg with a tentacle. "This whole area is a fancy, over-sized neighborhood for spoiled rich brats. It's called Honeysuckle Park."

"That is the dumbest name I've ever heard."

"It could have been Honeysuckle Meadows."

"Point," Anderson muttered. "If I have to put up with living in Honeysuckle Park, the inside of my house had better be spanking. If there's a single thing covered in glitter, aggravated assault won't even begin to cover the charges. I will end you, with prejudice."

Grinning over the rim of his champagne flute, Lynn winked, then drained half his glass. "I don't believe you."

"Mmm," Anderson replied, sipping at his own mimosa. "At least I have plenty of time to enjoy my new house. Not used to being unemployed." He made a face. "I really hope my mother doesn't hear about this. I will get phone call after phone call lecturing me on how I never should have quit the family business."

Lynn was quiet a moment, staring at his flute as he twirled it back and forth. "You never have told me anything about your family. And despite my pushy nature, I know I'm not entitled to know."

"Oh, you're welcome to know. I just don't like talking about it." Anderson shrugged. "I honestly figured you'd go poking around on your own."

"Yeah, I'm stupid, but I'm not quite that stupid." He made a face when Lynn snorted. "Okay, okay. Almost, several times. I would go and distract myself with something else. I do know how to behave myself, sort of. So does Sparkleson have a dramatic backstory?"

"No, not even remotely," Anderson said sourly. "My family is so unicorn they could be a book of stereotypes. My parents are well-behaved and nice. They met when they were twenty, got married at twenty-one. They run the business my mother's family has owned for six generations, thanks to love and pride and loyalty. Go ahead and guess what the business is."

Lynn stared, looking torn between horror and amusement. "Please say matchmaking."

Anderson winced and drained the last of his mimosa as Lynn started laughing so hard he nearly slipped back into the water. "I hate you."

"Oh, god, this is gold. You're from a family of unicorn matchmakers." He set his flute down and bent double as he went back to laughing.

"Shut up," Anderson muttered.

"You must have fucking sucked as a matchmaker," Lynn finally said, gasping the words out between chuckles, wiping away tears of laughter. He retrieved his mimosa. "So how many clients did you sleep with?"

"More than my mom knows about, so shut up whenever you meet her. Which is going to be sooner than any of us wants, I'm sure." He set his glass aside and picked up a strawberry. "I need to find a job before she figures out I'm in the wind again and starts trying to talk sense into me, like there is anything resembling sense in running a goddamn matchmaking business." He threw the end of his strawberry at Lynn. "Stop fucking laughing, Mr. Wealthy Kraken, because you are just as sad a stereotype."

Lynn batted the strawberry end away, grinned. "I'm sorry, I just can't picture you in the business. You must have hated it."

"I did, which is why I joined the Bureau. Now I have no fucking clue what I'm going to do."

"Well, you can sponge off me as long as you like, darling. At least we have a pretty new house to mope in while we figure out what we're doing next."

Anderson snorted at that, glanced at him, then shifted his gaze to the water, dipping his fingers into it. "You have months and months of free time ahead of you, and no real need to immediately find a job… and you're going to spend it moping and job hunting? I think maybe you might be sick or something because I would have put every penny left to my name that you would declare it the perfect time to start planning our wedding. Or putting into action the plans you probably already have at least half-formed."

Silence met his words, and Anderson grinned as he turned to look at Lynn. The grin slid away when he saw Lynn staring at him, wide-eyed and… Anderson wasn't even certain what to call the expression on his face. It ached to look at though. "Lynn?"

Lynn shook himself. "Did you… did you just ask me to marry you?"

"Yes… I can't tell if you're happy or not."

"Of course I'm happy! You're an idiot!" Lynn lunged at him, wrapped around him—and promptly upset their balance, sending them both into the water.

Anderson flailed, tried to find the surface, came up sputtering a minute later and clung to the edge of the pool. "Forget it. Wedding off. I'm going to kill you."

Tentacles and arms wrapped around him, warm lips pressed against his throat. "Sorry."

"Why the weird look, Wriggly?"

"Didn't expect anyone to propose to me. I mean, I know we sort of had an assumption…"

Anderson smiled, pushed away from the edge and turned around. "Not used to being on the receiving end, hmm?"

"No," Lynn said quietly, turning into the hand Anderson used to brush away his hair and kissing the palm. "The answer is yes, by the way."

"Well, it's good to know I didn't almost drown for a no." Anderson tugged on his hair. "So fess up, how much of the wedding do you already have planned? And I don't have a ring because I didn't plan this, so we'll have to go do that later. You're paying for them."

Lynn snickered, nipped his jaw, then kissed him, hard and wet and hungry, tentacles tightening in a way Anderson knew very well indeed. "I bought you a house and you can't even cough up for a ring?"

"You're the one with expensive taste."

"I'd wear plastic if you were the one who gave it to me."

"I'm going—" Anderson broke off with a shuddering moan as Lynn pushed a tentacle into his hole, still wet and stretched from recent activities, sore but not sore enough to stop, not even close. "—to remember that on your birthday, and make you be happy about the tackiest plastic octopus I can find. Just to—" He was cut off again as a tentacle pressed at his mouth, tracing his lips as Lynn licked and nibbled at them.

Another tentacle slid inside him, twining with the first one, fucking him slow and easy while another slowly teased his cock, stroked him lazily. "You really are perfect, Sparkleson."

Unable to reply to that, Anderson settled for sucking hard on the tentacle fucking his mouth, eyes locked with Lynn's.

Lynn smiled, kissed his cheek, then drew back and began to fuck Anderson harder. He moaned around the tentacle in his mouth, head falling back as a thick, heavy tentacle wrapped around his neck and more came up to cradle him better in the water.

He didn't last long, couldn't between Lynn's knowing ministrations and the heady rush of an impulsive engagement having gone well, unexpected dunking notwithstanding. "Lynn…" he cried when his mouth was released. He reached out, clung to Lynn's shoulders, and kissed him hard as his release shuddered through him. Slumping against him and panting, he slowly calmed. When he was reasonably certain he could speak again, he said, "I think you should show me to my new bedroom."

Lynn chuckled, kissed his brow, and set him back on the edge of the pool. Shifting, he climbed out of the pool, then hauled Anderson to his feet and tugged him toward the house.