PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords
2017 Angelique Voisen
Artist: Jay Aheer
unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is
illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced
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case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of
fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
To my readers, I
hope you enjoy Claw and Ollie’s story.
Bad Boys Need
Love Too, 3
thudded outside, interrupting Ollie Ross from picking the lock on the
safe in front of him. Ollie froze, glancing at Jasper, fellow crew
“Focus on the
safe,” Jasper hissed, nodding to his revolver. “Gary and
I will watch your back.”
Ollie had been in
the business long enough to know those words meant nothing. He
distrusted Jasper and Gary even more. No thief worth his salt relied
on anyone but themselves. Even his own brother had bailed out on him.
Well, fuck Orange.
Who wanted to teach kindergarten when they could be living the high
down on his lower lip, Ollie focused on the lock. A headache formed
in the back of his skull. He should have remained sober, but fat
chance of that happening. These days, he took anything capable of
sending shifters to their happy place.
was a train wreck waiting to happen. Part of him knew he should have
listened to Orange. They might be brothers, but they were worlds
apart. Ollie needed the cash though, had debts to pay. Hence, this
fucked-up job with a crew who wouldn’t hesitate to double-cross
Ollie stared at the
metal safe with undisguised hatred. He hated old-fashioned boxes like
these. Who used these anymore? He pressed his ear against the metal
again, turning the knob.
A click sounded from
the mechanism inside. Ollie wanted to break out into a celebratory
dance. Who needed Orange?
Wood splintered. He
whirled, swallowing at the sight of the door breaking down, and three
men in suits barged in, rifles pointed at them.
Triumph turned to
“Time for Plan
B,” he told the others.
“What Plan B?”
Gary demanded, hands trembling on his tiny gun.
Orange always made contingency plans. Ollie kind of just went with
anything. Besides, why hadn’t the goons shot at them?
weapons, now!” one of the muscled suits yelled in accented
English. The guy was buffed, bald, and smelled like bear. A horrible
rake mark marred the entire right side of his face.
and Jasper instantly obeyed. Pussies.
Then the speaker pulled the trigger. No sound, no nothing. The guy
must have a silencer on his weapon. Flesh and bone exploded. Gary and
Jasper toppled over like dolls, well dolls with missing faces.
Someone let out a
shrill scream that smacked of desperation. It took Ollie a second to
realize the sound came from him.
Ollie reached for his animal and tucked away his human half. He
shrank. Once he was in tabby form, he broke into a run. Screw the
safe’s contents. His life mattered more. Well, not exactly
true, but he’d ponder on his miserable existence later.
A gun went off.
be careful where you point that thing. The boss wants the thief
He sprinted from a
clumsy suit who tried to lunge at him.
could place the accent now. Russian.
He knew he’d made plenty of enemies, screwed people on a
frequent basis, but tangling with the Bratva? He was dead meat. Plus,
he didn’t like the sound of being taken alive. What did these
the opened window where Gary, Jasper, and he had entered, he jumped
to the ledge, paws scratching on wood. He thought he made it, except
a hand closed over his tail and yanked him away from the ledge.
Panicked, vision swirling, he dangled in the air.
He scratched and
hissed, but to no avail. Ollie was no fighter. He had fast hands and
quick reflexes from being a tabby shifter. That was all.
“Got you now,
you little piece of shit.” The leader of the little troop
snarled out the words and held Ollie at an arm’s length.
icy gray eyes held him in place. Ollie didn’t like what he saw
there—absolutely nothing. This asshole was empty of pity,
sympathy, emotions. His inner cat told him this man had an apex
predator in him. The smell of dominance and fur filled the air. A
Ollie could narrow down the list to the Petrovic Crime Family, who
were also Kodiak shifters.
Ollie wished he
hadn’t argued with his brother. He relied on Orange helping him
get out of messes so often, he didn’t realize what a horrible
human being he was becoming.
If he could only
turn back time, he’d know better than take on a job without
knowing all the information. Were they stealing from the Bratva?
Ollie didn’t even bother to check. When had he become so
The leader with the
scarred face snapped his fingers using his free hand to an underling.
The goon bought a sack. Seeing it, Ollie thrashed and twisted, not
seeing Scarface’s hand blurring, hitting the side of his skull.
All the fight went
out of him. He wanted to vomit. Unconsciousness took him. The last
Ollie remembered was darkness closing around him, drowning him.
Ollie woke, throat
hoarse from screaming. For a second, he thought he was back there,
the bad place. He would find himself hung on the wall like some kind
of ornament, chained by the wrists and ankles, bleeding. Knowing
death was around the corner wasn’t the worst thing. It was the
knowledge he lured his brother into a trap.
Bright sunlight hurt
his eyes. He slowly sat up, realizing he slept on his couch again, in
his apartment. Ollie left the TV on. He noticed it was morning news
now. Same old takeout boxes on his coffee table. Familiar walls.
Relief filled him,
but it was short-lived. Ollie clutched his blanket over his
shoulders, shivering. The heater worked. Orange made sure. Still, the
chill crept past Ollie’s skin and into his bones.
he whispered. He couldn’t tell the days apart anymore. It felt
like he’d been stuck in his apartment for a long time.
Time passed slowly
when he was trapped in a prison of his own making. The screen of his
phone lit up. Knuckles rapped on his front door, making him jump.
instinct was to pick up a weapon. He scrambled out of the couch,
grabbing the baseball bat underneath. His ring tone shattered the