Shott moved down the hallway with sure strides, a bag held firmly in his hand. "Deli place a block over. Quick service."

Stripper met Shott halfway and snagged the bag. "Appreciate it." He turned on his heel and headed back into the room, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from all three men.

Wilbur's eyes settled on the bag. "Is that for me?" The guy was reaching for the bag before Stripper gave an answer. Wilbur turned the bag over, dropping the sandwich into his waiting hand. He unwrapped it and took a bite, his eyes rolling back as he chewed.

"Have a seat." Stripper's tone was a little less commanding. "I don't need you falling over and cracking your head on anything."

"This is so good," Wilbur said as he chewed. "I don't know how you managed to get this so fast, but thanks." He backed up and then took a seat. Stripper watched as Wilbur ate.

"Better?"

"I'll know in about fifteen minutes." Wilbur held up the other half of his food. "Want some?"

The man just kept surprising Stripper. He held up his hand. "That's for you."

Why on earth did Stripper feel better knowing the human was being taken care of? He hadn't felt this way when he'd tranked the guy and shoved him into the van. There were no strange emotions when he hauled Wilbur to the basement and tied him to that chair. He had been ready to torture the human to get what he needed.

And now...

Wilbur sighed as he finished the sandwich and crumbled the paper it had been wrapped in. "Thank you... What's your name?"

"Not important." Although Stripper wanted to tell him. He was even ready to confess his birth name-which no one called him. Gah, he really was losing it. "Now that you've eaten, I want you to drop your pants."

Wilbur's eyes widened as the paper in his hand crinkled. "You want me to do what?"

Nicolas Reno had a birthmark on his left ass cheek. It was large and brown in color. Stripper knew this from the medical records he'd hacked into. If this guy didn't have the birthmark, then... Well, they'd take it from there.

"I'm not having sex with you." Wilbur stood and backed up until he was flush against the chalkboard. "You're cute and all, but I'm not that kind of guy."

"Not gay?" He couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his tone because a flash of resentment tore through him.

Wilbur's color was returning, and it was a deep shade of red. "That's none of your business."

Stripper pointed to the chalkboard behind Wilbur. "Number one on your bucket list."

Wilbur turned and stared at the board as if he'd never seen it before. He frowned and then used his hand to swipe at the letters. They smeared but were still legible. "I was bored and thought you were going to kill me."

"I still might." Stripper crossed the room and caged Wilbur in. "Now drop your damn pants."

He needed to know. Wondering if this was Reno or Wilbur was driving Stripper insane. If this was Reno, he was going to take pleasure in killing the man-after he got the answers he sought.

He wished he had thought of this when he'd tranked the guy. But Stripper had been certain at the time that he'd snatched the right man. Now only the birthmark would tell him the truth.

"No." Wilbur crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you think a deli sandwich is buying me dinner? I don't put out on the first date, especially not a cheap one."

Stripper leaned in close, their faces inches apart. He curled his upper lip and snarled his next words. "This isn't a fucking date. You have five seconds to drop them, or I'll tear them from your body."

Chapter Three.

"Something isn't right," T-Rex said as he walked into the office of the abandoned school.

"Do you really think the guy is telling the truth?" Legend asked as he strode in behind T-Rex. "Could he really be this Wilbur Castro?"

"Not that," T-Rex replied. "I mean Stripper. Something has gotten into him." Giovani Zoltan-Stripper's real name-was one of the fiercest interrogators T-Rex knew. The guy didn't always use brute force, but he always got the intel he was after. Stripper was cunning and could trick anyone into telling him what he wanted to know. But as T-Rex had listened to the live feed playing in the office earlier, he knew Stripper was off his game.

"Could be that Wilbur is his mate," Shott said so nonchalantly that the news didn't register in T-Rex's head at first. He turned, staring at Shott as if the man had just declared that guns were illegal. T-Rex's eyes widened.

"Shut the hell up," T-Rex said. "Don't even joke like that."

It had been three years since the last person had mated. Rowdy and Cameron were blissfully happy, and T-Rex was surrounded by mated men. He, Shott, and Stripper were the last bachelors in the house, and he wanted to keep it that way. When one of the bears found their mate, they lost their ever-loving mind.

"He could be right," Legend said. "Stripper has never gone this easy on anyone when interrogating them. That could only mean one thing." Legend took a seat at one of the desks and kicked his booted feet up. "Time to dig out the nursery stuff that was stored in the attic."

T-Rex snatched the office door open and headed down the hallway. Legend jumped up and was hot on his heels, trying his best to hide a smirk. "Go easy on him."

"Like hell," T-Rex barked. "We have to find out who kidnapped Ms. O'Connor and stop Reno before he sells the intel he's already gathered. We don't have time for easy."

He came to a stop just outside the door and peered through the glass. His teeth ground together when he spotted the two up against the wall, Stripper looking at Reno as if he wanted to fuck the guy. Their faces were inches apart, too close in T-Rex's opinion.

They were fucked. T-Rex opened the door and stepped inside. "How does Reno smell?"

Stripper's brows furrowed as he turned to stare at T-Rex and Legend. "What?"

"How does Reno smell?" T-Rex repeated.

"How the fuck should I know?" Stripper asked.

T-Rex was seconds away from shooting the bastard. He wouldn't kill Stripper, but he'd wound him enough for a hospital trip just to get him away from Reno. This was a mission, not a dating service. If Stripper really were falling for the enemy... Goddamn it. "Him." T-Rex finally pointed at the man hemmed up against the chalkboard. "How does he smell?"

The guarded expression that crossed Stripper's dark eyes said it all. The look screamed to back down and move away. The lethality in Stripper's eyes was tangible.

"Ease back, T-Rex," Legend warned. "You're talking to his bear right now."

"Screw his bear," T-Rex snapped. He'd stepped further into the room, closer to Reno, when Stripper snarled. The guy fucking snarled. Stripper's features grew dark, and there was no mistaking the challenge in the tone.

"T-Rex." Legend said his name slowly.

"You're jeopardizing this mission," T-Rex said to Stripper. "Get in the office with Shott. Legend will take over."

"The hell he will. Now get out of here so I can finish with Wilbur."

"He's not Wilbur!" T-Rex had never lost it like this on a mission before. He was seething and ready to take someone's head off. He drew in a deep breath and centered himself. Before he could say another word, he heard the sound of something metal dropping outside the door.

Legend looked at T-Rex before he stepped backward and glanced in the hallway. When his eyes grew large, T-Rex's stomach knotted.

"Grenade!" Legend dove for the floor as T-Rex dropped behind the desk, shoving it over to use as a shield. Stripper and Reno jerked to the floor as the explosion detonated. A corkboard fell from the wall. The moldy suspension ceiling lost some panels as they crashed to the floor. The glass in the classroom door shattered.

"Shott," T-Rex said before getting to his feet and taking off. He coughed through the cloud of plaster and kicked aside destroyed locker doors as he hauled ass down the hallway. His ears were ringing, but T-Rex was determined to get to Shott.

"What the fuck?" Shott appeared just outside the doorway, weapon in hand, coughing as well. "Did that little shit have a grenade in his pocket?"

"It wasn't Reno." T-Rex shoved Shott into the office and slammed the door. He waited until the ringing in his ears died down before he said, "Someone doesn't want us talking to him."

"Either that or security in this area takes their job way to seriously." The two moved toward the door, and T-Rex could finally see past the dust cloud. The hallway was empty, but he wasn't taking any chances.

"Pack our shit up," he said to Shott. "We're moving out."

As Shott packed up the equipment, T-Rex tapped his earpiece. "You and Stripper get Reno down to the office. We're evacuating."

They'd been compromised, and his men had nearly been killed. T-Rex wanted the culprit, and he wanted him or her yesterday. He didn't take his men nearly being blown apart lightly.

Shott had the equipment broken down and packed up in less than two minutes. Legend had taken the lead as he led Stripper and Reno to the office. When everyone was in the same room, T-Rex went for Reno. "Who the hell just tried to blow us up?" His tone was threatening and filled with rage.

Stripper stepped between them, his eyes narrowing. "It wasn't Wilbur."

T-Rex was not about to stand there and argue. He had more important things to worry about than Stripper's impaired priorities. The five of them had to make it out of the building alive. They had to find another place to stash Reno until T-Rex could find out who was behind the attack.

Wilbur gripped his captor's arm with a deadly stranglehold. He couldn't believe he was looking at three more men. Two of them had come into the classroom. The tallest one had scared the crap out of him. Was his name really T-Rex? What kind of name was that?

"Keep Reno in your sights, Stripper."

Stripper. Wilbur finally had a name to put with the face. But that couldn't be his real name. No mother in their right mind would name their child Stripper. So why was he called that, and why did the possible answer make Wilbur's teeth grind together?

"Uh, should we be using names with Reno still around?" a man Wilbur had yet to identify said. He wore a short-sleeved shirt and had a tribal tattoo on his right bicep. The guy was built like a linebacker.

He was very cute. All the men were. He felt as if he'd stepped into a room full of GQ militant models. But the best looking of them all was Wilbur's captor.

He shouldn't be thinking that way. Wilbur should be trying to find a way out of this. But Stripper's sexy, masculine features were both intimidating and heart-stopping. The man's upper body held perfect proportions, muscular and ripped. Broad shoulders tapered down to narrow hips and what had to be the finest butt Wilbur had ever seen in his life.

Wilbur wanted to break a tooth biting the man.

Stripper's blond hair was cut short, military style. The color blended perfectly with the man's irises. Light brows slashed parallel to sharp cheekbones, and the man's five o'clock shadow made Stripper only that much more scrumptious.

Power and strength bled from every pore of the man's body. And that voice. Wilbur loved a man with a deep voice, and Stripper's was a lethal baritone. It was slightly husky, rich and dark, like the finest black velvet rubbing against the senses.

Wilbur involuntarily shuddered.

Stripper also had tattoos. What a bad boy. On his left bicep was a strange swirly pattern. There was a dragon on his right bicep, and some sort of Chinese writing on his lower right arm. Wilbur wanted to trace them with his tongue. What the hell had gotten into him? He never drooled over anyone like this, especially not someone who had kidnapped him.

Maybe he was finally cracking under the pressure. Someone had just tried to blow them up after all.

When Stripper glanced back at him, Wilbur almost felt absorbed. The man was tall and dangerous, and Wilbur wondered what Stripper looked like naked.

Stripper reached up and pressed the back of his hand to Wilbur's forehead and then his cheeks as they silently crept down the hallway. The man's features were masked, but his eyes held a wealth of emotions. Wilbur was never good at figuring out facial expressions, but he did notice that Stripper's eyes were no longer dangerous daggers. They had softened.

What did that mean?

The men stopped. T-Rex held his hand up. He made some weird signal, and then the man with the tribal tattoo broke from the group and moved quickly to the opposite wall. Wilbur bit his lower lip and waited. His heart was pounding as his grip tightened on Stripper's arm.

Stripper patted Wilbur's hip and then rested his hand there. This was very strange behavior for an interrogator. Not that Wilbur was complaining. The heat from Stripper's hand seeped through Wilbur's pants. And Wilbur found himself enjoying the contact.

Wilbur was confused, but he was also aroused. This was not the appropriate moment, but he couldn't help the way his body was reacting to the closeness of Stripper's large musculature. Now that the guy wasn't threatening him, Wilbur could appreciate the delicious-looking man.

He tried to look anywhere but at Stripper. The man was distracting, and Wilbur needed his wits about him. Not only did he need to survive whoever was attacking them, but he also needed to get away from these men.

But he couldn't help how he felt. Touching Stripper, Wilbur's body became too sensitive, too warm, as heat began to flare inside of him. Damn it, he was getting a hard-on just holding the man's arm.

T-Rex did that strange thing with his hands again, and then the men began to move. Wilbur had no idea how to survive a situation like this. He was going to have to solely depend on Stripper to keep him alive.

Now wasn't that ironic?

And here he thought the hardest thing in life was trying to keep a goldfish alive. Well, that and trying not to destroy the long-standing friendship between Wilbur's father and Mr. Fiber.

Wilbur was jerked forward as the men made a break for it. They took off through the back doors and hurried down a set of concrete, weed-filled steps. Wilbur was thrust into the back of a black SUV with tinted windows. He had barely enough time to scoot over before two more men jumped into the back with him. One of them was Stripper.

T-Rex took the wheel as the man with the tattoo tossed two black boxes into the back and then hurried into the passenger side. The tires squealed as the SUV lurched forward and then T-Rex gunned the engine and the vehicle sped down the street.

"The glass is bulletproof," Stripper informed him.

Wilbur twisted his hands in his lap as he watched the buildings race past him. Now how was he going to get away? He had no clue where they were taking him.

"But you aren't," T Rex said from the front seat. "Try anything, Mr. Reno, and I'll put one between your eyes."

Wilbur felt Stripper tense up. The man's eyes bore into the back of T-Rex's head, but Stripper didn't say anything.

All his life Wilbur had been too kind for his own good. Even now when he knew he should think of a way to escape, he didn't want to go back on his promise to Stripper. Wilbur needed his head examined. The guy had kidnapped and threatened him, and all Wilbur could think about was keeping his word.

They drove through Junction City, crossing over a set of railroad tracks, and then T-Rex made a left, heading out of town. Wilbur was glad he was still alive but had no desire to leave town. He had a job, a home, and a life. He roused his anger and turned toward Stripper, ready to give the man a piece of his mind. "Could you please tell me where we're going?"

Stripper shook his head. "It's not important."

"You say that a lot." Wilbur was getting extremely tired of that answer. He wanted to know what was going on, who Mr. Reno was, and why he'd been kidnapped. Most of all, he wanted to know why he was attracted to Stripper. Could it be Stockholm syndrome? He didn't think so. Wilbur wasn't relating to the guy. He just wanted Stripper to jump his bones.

"That should give you a clue." Stripper was back to his cold demeanor. Wilbur was ready to sock the man in his nose. Instead, he sat there stewing.

After riding for almost two hours, T-Rex pulled down a dirt road with rows of corn on either side of it. The road was bumpy and Wilbur bounced around until the SUV came to a stop outside a rundown barn.

When they exited the truck, the stifling heat smacked Wilbur in the face. He hadn't noticed how hot it was when they'd left the last building. Probably because he'd been too panicked to pay any attention.