"I'm claustrophobic!"

"Even better," the man snarled. "Now hold the fuck still."

"Can't we talk about this like two sensible adults?" Wilbur tried to move to the right, but the guy outmaneuvered him and slid the cloth over his head. He held back a scream, his chest tightening. He became dizzy, and the room began to spin. "Please," he begged and felt the tears welling up. "I'm really scared."

"Then tell me where Ms. O'Connor is."

Wilbur's shoulders slumped as he shook his head. The cloth was warm but scratchy. The material made him sneeze. "I don't know. I swear," Wilbur said before he felt the first tear streak down his cheek. "I'm just an accountant. I have no idea who you're talking about. And then he added, "Please, mister. I really am claustrophobic. Please take this off of me." Wilbur's lungs were burning as he tried to pull in enough air to breathe, but it wasn't working. Sweat began to trickle down his face as he whimpered. "Please."

The cloth was removed in one fluid motion, and Wilbur was embarrassed that his captor could see the tears running down his face. He tried to wipe them on his shoulder, but his shirt was wet and the material scratched him.

For the first time since Wilbur had set his eyes on the man, the guy looked uncertain. Wilbur considered begging some more, but he kept quiet. He was already ashamed at his tears.

"What's your name?" the stranger asked, his tone velvet soft.

"Wilbur Castro." Wilbur sniffled. "I'm an accountant at Fiber and Sons. You can call my boss, and he'll verify it. He's cranky and not very nice most of the time, but I'm pretty sure he'll tell you who I am." Wilbur gazed up at his captor and asked, "Can I please go the bathroom? I haven't wet myself since I was nine."

"Nine?"

Wilbur shrugged. "Childhood issues."

The side of the man's mouth jerked as if he was trying to stop a smile. "Why do you work for someone who treats you that way?"

Wilbur didn't want to tell this stranger his life story. It was quite boring and a tad pathetic. "He's a family friend. My dad thought he was doing me a favor when he asked his friend to hire me."

And Wilbur hadn't told his dad what a douchebag Mr. Fiber was. The two were close friends, and Wilbur didn't want to drive a wedge between them.

"So you go to a job you hate because you want to please your father?" The man made it sound like it was a bad thing.

"Wouldn't you do anything to make your dad happy?" Wilbur's father had worked hard to put food on the table and raise him. His parents loved each other deeply, and his dad was an all-around good guy. It was just a job. Wilbur could deal with it.

"I wouldn't sacrifice my own happiness," the guy replied. "Have you told him about his friend?"

Wilbur shook his head. "No. They go way back, to their college days. I can't come between them. That wouldn't be nice of me."

The guy looked at Wilbur in disbelief. "I'll be back."

"But I have to use the bathroom," he reminded the man. "Please."

The guy sighed and then pulled a knife from his belt. Wilbur cringed until the stranger squatted and cut the tape around Wilbur's ankles. The guy then moved around Wilbur and cut the tape at his wrists. Wilbur rubbed the soreness as the man led him from the room and down a long hallway.

"Where are we? This looks like a boiler room from a Freddie Kruger movie." The lights overhead flickered, and Wilbur hurried to catch up to his captor. When Wilbur was close, he noticed how much taller the guy was to his mere five-foot-four height. He was staring right at the guy's back.

"Location isn't important." The man stopped at the end of the hall and opened a door that had more stains than paint. It creaked, and Wilbur waited for some creature to jump out at him. "Just use the head and hurry up."

Wilbur nodded and stepped into the room. There were rust stains in the sink and toilet, and the light was one of those pull-string types. When he yanked the cord, it broke. Wilbur held the chain in his hand and then shoved it into his pocket. He might need it to break out of here, although he wasn't sure how he would use it. But it could come in handy.

It was dark in this closet-size bathroom when the door was shut, but Wilbur was pretty sure that, if he didn't hit his mark, no one would notice. The bathroom was deplorable. Wilbur was afraid to touch anything. Where was hand sanitizer when he needed it?

He used his foot to flush the toilet, and amazingly enough, it flushed. He wasn't about to put his hands in that sink. Instead, he wiped them on his slacks and exited the bathroom. He'd wash them the first chance he had.

His captor was on the phone, silently growling at someone. Wilbur caught a few words. "Mix-up" and "strangle you" were simple enough to understand. When the stranger turned and saw Wilbur standing there, the guy hung up.

"Do I have to go back to that room?" Wilbur asked as he was escorted back down the hallway. "I promise not to escape if you put me in a room with a table and gave me something warm to drink."

Dang. Wilbur had promised, which meant he had to keep his word. His father had taught him that-though he didn't think his father imagined a kidnapping scenario when he'd taught Wilbur the value of keeping his word. Still...

"I'll see what I can come up with."

Wilbur had to walk quickly to keep up with the man's long strides. He inwardly cheered when he spotted steps ahead. Maybe the guy was going to let Wilbur go. He crossed his fingers as they climbed the steps.

Chapter Two.

The old school had been closed down for years. It sat on the west side of Junction City, a chain-link fence surrounding the worn-down structure to keep people out. There hadn't been any electricity until Stripper had tapped into the main power supply at the pole and rewired a few things.

Shott had set up his equipment in the school office, and Stripper had conducted his interrogation in the basement. He'd been shocked to find the room down there. Maybe that was one of the reasons the place had been shut down. It wasn't a large school, and from his research, it had been a private one.

The classrooms were small. The one he left Wilbur in held fifteen desks, max. The human appeared a bit pale as Stripper closed the door behind him. He leaned against the peeling, off-white wall in the hallway. He closed his eyes and cursed.

Wilbur's aroma was driving him insane. Since first snatching the man from the parking lot in the business district, Stripper had scented hot summer rain and licorice. It was a very strange combination, but one that appealed on every level to his bear.

This was all wrong. The whole situation. He turned when he felt more than heard people coming down the hall. T-Rex and Legend looked like a powerhouse duo, large and imposing. But so was Stripper.

"What the fuck was that?" T-Rex asked, his tone clipped. "Are you going to offer him dinner next?"

"That's not Nicolas Reno," Stripper argued as he pushed away from the wall.

"Why, because he cried and begged you to be nice?" T-Rex was in full pissed-off mode. He features were dark, and his nostrils were flaring. "If we let every person go that begged us, we'd have been killed years ago."

Legend stood there silently, his gaze locked on the classroom door. The man had a way of looking menacing even when he wasn't trying.

Stripper curled his hands at his sides, gritting his teeth. "I did the research on Nicolas Reno. I spent weeks following him and learning his every move. Tell me what the fuck is going on. How did I grab the wrong guy?"

"Haven't you ever heard that everyone has a twin in this world?" Legend asked, his voice neutral. "I think Reno found his and exploited the situation."

Stripper had a job to do, and becoming attracted to someone who might be extremely dangerous wasn't his cup of tea. He didn't do commitments, and he wasn't even going to do a one-night stand with the guy. He shouldn't be falling for Wilbur's tears. That could get him killed. He immediately felt an edge of distaste at his attempt to make that situation into something unemotional, something less powerful than it was becoming.

Wilbur's face surfaced in Stripper's mind to torment him and leave him hungry to see the man again. What the hell was the human doing to him?

Executive Bodyguards had been hired by a private firm to look into corporate espionage. But Stripper's gut told him that Wilbur was no more a spy than Donald Duck. Nicolas Reno was cunning, ruthless, and would use any means necessary to get the job done. Could Wilbur and Nicolas be one and the same?

Stripper didn't think so, but his emotions were running amuck. He wanted Wilbur too badly, and that was clouding his judgment. Never before had he felt sorry for someone he was interrogating.

"You need to step back from this," T-Rex said. "I'm not sure what's going on, but you seemed frayed. Let Legend take over."

Stripper had worked too hard on Reno's profile. He had found Reno's associates, his buyers, and even a silent partner who had fled the country two days ago. He'd managed to snag Reno before the man had fled as well. But he still couldn't believe that Wilbur was Reno.

Though the resemblance was striking.

"I got this." Stripper knew he was playing a dangerous game. Logically, he should hand this over to Legend. What if he made the wrong call and fell for the bad guy? But what if Wilbur was who he said he was and Stripper unleashed Legend on the human? He shook his head. "I'll break him."

"Are you sure?" T-Rex asked. "We can't afford for you to go soft on us."

Stripper grabbed his groin. "There's nothing soft about me."

Legend rolled his eyes. T-Rex didn't look the least bit amused.

Stripper released himself and flipped them both off. "Fuck both of you. I know my job."

"That's my boy," T-Rex said. "Now do what you came here to do. Break the son of a bitch so we can go home."

Stripper nodded, centered himself, and then stepped back into the classroom. His lungs instantly filled with Wilbur's scent, making Stripper's back teeth clench in need.

He stopped just inside the door to see Wilbur using the chalkboard. Stripper gazed at what the man had written. The heading read "Bucket List," and below that, the first item was to have sex. Was this some sort of code? Was Wilbur leaving some kind of message for his contacts? The second item was to become a better pet parent. The third was to learn how to dry drown in a wetsuit.

What the hell?

Stripper cleared his throat. "Have a seat, Mr. Reno."

Wilbur dropped the chalk and gasped as he spun as if Stripper had frightened him. The human's suit was crumpled from the water Stripper had splashed on the man, and his reddish-brown hair was sticking up at every angle. Wilbur looked a hot mess and so fucking adorable that Stripper was getting hard.

"Are we back to that again?" Wilbur asked as his emerald-green eyes widened.

Stripper grabbed the chair closest to him and turned it before he straddled it. He rested his arms on the back and nodded toward another chair. "Have a seat."

Wilbur kept his back to the boarded-up windows as he scooted to his right. He grabbed the chair and took a seat, clasping his hands in his lap. "How can I convince you of who I really am?"

"I'll ask the questions," Stripper stated, trying to remain aloof and unaffected by the powerful scent clinging to the air-even if every cell in his body demanded he take Wilbur right here, over the dusty teacher's desk. Wilbur was different, Stripper's heart swore, though his mind fought that instinctive knowledge.

Wilbur's head bobbed with a nod. "Then can you ask when I can go home? I haven't had anything to eat, and when my sugar levels drop, I get a bit dizzy."

"You're a diabetic?"

"Borderline. My doctor has monitored me since I was a small child, and together we've managed to keep me from becoming a full-blown pill popper." Wilbur strummed his fingers over his knees. "Do you have a candy bar in your pocket or a pack of sugar, maybe a left over M&M that fell from the bag?"

Stripper was simply fascinated by this gorgeous creature. Wilbur wasn't what most humans would consider striking or even handsome, but he was downright sexy to Stripper. Wilbur carried a little more weight than what was considered model thin, but it looked good on the guy. The man had a plump ass, wide hips, and was thick in all the right places.

Stripper was growing increasingly harder by the second. He tried once again to turn his emotions off, to become the lethal militant he'd been trained to be. Stripper became rigidly hard, and narrowed his eyes. "Stop with the bullshit, Mr. Reno. I want to know where-"

"Ms. O'Connor is," Wilbur finished for him. "No clue."

"You kidnapped her in an attempt to extract codes from her. Now tell me where you have her or-"

"You'll let me go into a diabetic coma?" Wilbur licked his lips, and Stripper noticed how the sweat had begun to gather over the human's forehead. It could be the fact that Wilbur-or Nicolas or whoever this man was-was nervous. He wanted to get up and check on the human, but if Wilbur was deceiving him, Stripper didn't want to be made a fool of.

He'd never been so conflicted in his life.

He tried to hold out, to see if Wilbur was faking. The guy had been shaking earlier, so that was nothing new. Stripper wasn't falling for-was the guy growing pale? Stripper gazed into Wilbur's green eyes. "Hey?"

Wilbur blinked and glanced at the chalkboard. His head moved slightly from side to side as his eyes continued to flutter rapidly. "Are you ever going to let me use the bathroom?"

Some kind of trick?

"You already used the head." Stripper curled his fingers in, resisting the urge to go to the man.

Wilbur's head bobbed up and down. "I remember."

Inhaling deeply, Stripper smelled something strange mixed in with Wilbur's scent. The room still held the fragrance of hot summer rain and licorice, but there was a hint of... Stripper inhaled again.

"Do I stink?" Wilbur sniffed under his arms. "I might after what you've put me through."

"You don't stink." Not in the human sense. But on a preternatural level, something was off. Stripper just couldn't put his finger on what the scent reminded him of.

"Screw you!" Wilbur shouted and jumped from his seat, pacing as if agitated. "I'm tired of this bullshit. Let me go home."

"Sit. Down."

"I won't sit down. I'm not staying here for another moment."

Wilbur rushed to the door, but Stripper was up and had the man around his waist in seconds flat. Wilbur struggled to get free and finally Stripper had to wrap his arms around the human's, pinning them to Wilbur's chest.

"Settle!" Being this close, Stripper recognized the odor. The human's sweat smelled like bile. What the hell? He could feel Wilbur's pulse beating rapidly, and the guy felt clammy.

Wilbur wasn't faking. Stripper released the man and headed toward the door. Legend was just outside, off to the side, holding a few sugar packs in his hand. "Grabbed them from the box Shott carries for his coffee."

"Thanks." Stripper grabbed them and headed back into the classroom. Wilbur hadn't moved.

"I'm sorry," Wilbur said. "I promised I wouldn't leave, and I just tried to."

Stripper handed Wilbur the packets. "Eat those."

Wilbur tore into them, emptying each packet onto his tongue. Stripper glanced toward the door to see both Legend and T-Rex gazing in. While Wilbur digested the sugar, Stripper went back out into the hallway.

"What if he isn't faking? Are you willing to kill him to prove a point? Giving the guy a meal couldn't hurt."

T-Rex didn't look pleased. He had such a cool confidence since this assignment had begun. There was lack of regret in the man's eyes, and that only irrigated Stripper. When T-Rex spoke, his words contradicted his expression. "I already sent Shott to go grab something high in carbs."

At least the man had a conscience. If T-Rex would have said no, Stripper would have had to fight both his commander and Legend. Shott would have tried to calm everyone down, but there would have been no calming down for Stripper.

Again he wondered what in the hell had gotten into him. But he already knew the answer. His bear wanted Wilbur, wanted to protect the man, wanted to wrap the human in cotton batting and keep him safe from the world.