The Maverick Pride Tales - Chapter 144: Chapter 144

His perfect mate would be serene and calm. A real lady who would not complain about his need to be on the road now and then. Driving was one of his passions, just like flying. He looked forward to the day he would be a mate and father, sharing his passions with his family. His inner raptor stirred with thoughts of his own young and a woman to fill the void inside of him.
Hmmm. Maybe it was time, after all. But a matchmaking service? Nah.
Even a famous one run by his incorrigible, yet delightful, and beloved Uncle Uzzi was completely unnecessary.
Hank had another reason for waiting on the whole find a mate thing. His parents were both Gyrfalcon Shifters, and immensely proud of that fact. One of the rarest species in the Shifter world, his mother and especially his father had impressed upon him the responsibility he had to continue their bloodline.
“Our kind is rare and special, Hank. It is your duty to see us flourish.”
Hank’s father had been a stern, severe sort of man. He told his only son the same thing from the time he was a fledgling. Hank knew it was old-fashioned, and maybe even a bit prejudiced. But he had made a promise, and his own innate sense of duty forced him to honor their wishes.
No matter what he wanted in life, he was obligated to continue the line. When Hank took a mate, she would be a female Gyrfalcon Shifter.
So, no, he would not need to bother Uncle Uzzi for his services. Hank did not need the old man’s help to find him one of those. He had it all worked out.
The North American Tower, that was the official term for a group of Falcons, spanned the entire continent. With only a few hundred Gyrfalcon members, all he had to do was contact the registry and they would pair him up with an eligible female in no time.
Hank had already sent them his resume a few months back. He was waiting patiently for their office to contact him with possible matches. Of course, they had to do the standard tests to make sure he was not even remotely related to any of the eligible females. Something that caused him endless anxiety whenever he thought about it.
Breathe in and out.
Then there were the regular hangups. Agreeing to meet a stranger with the intention of essentially tying yourself to her for life was scary as fuck. Like what if she was boring, annoying, or hated him on sight? What if she smelled funny or made noises when she ate?
Hank’s stomach tensed as he imagined agreeing to mate a total stranger, but it was what it was. He couldn’t imagine Uncle Uzzi wanting him to mate for anything other than love, but surely, the man understood honor. Hank made a promise. He just had to see it through. There was no other choice.
Sighing heavily, he replied to Uncle Uzzi’s emailed invitation with a firm no. Not surprised at all when his cell phone chimed a moment later. Hank turned it off. Not in the mood for the tongue-lashing he was sure to give him. Turning to his computer, he lost himself in missives until the door to his office slammed open.
Uh oh.
In all his musings, Hank forgot one thing about his world-famous uncle. He never called unless he was close by.
Gulp.
His inner raptor shivered and ducked his head. Uncle Uzzi had the uncanny ability to make him feel like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Fucking hell.
And yet he loved the man.
Sigh.
Hank turned to face Uzzi with a chagrined smile on his face, hoping to smooth his ruffled feathers. He was not a rude person by nature, and he regretted his treatment of the elderly Witch immediately.
“So, you are available after all, nephew mine?”
“Uncle Uzzi!”
Hank opened his arms to embrace the older man in a big, back-slapping hug. Uzzi’s blue eyes glittered at him like sapphires in the dingy space, and he winced as a zap of the man’s magic stung him on his butt.
“Ouch!”
“Hmm, you’ve annoyed me, boy,” Uzzi told him zapping him with his magic one more time, before clapping Hank affectionately on the shoulder.
The old Witch never stayed mad for long. Thank fuck. Hank’s ass couldn’t take much more getting zapped. He gazed around his dusty office and frowned. Hank really needed to hire a maid, he thought distractedly.
“So, Uncle Uzzi, what brings you in?”
Hank tried for nonchalance, but one look at his expression and he knew he should have armed himself. The unbelievably girl-like screech that emanated from Hank’s lips one micro-second after his usually jovial Uncle Uzzi grabbed his right earlobe, flicking the thing with his blunt fingernails, would have been embarrassing if the office wasn’t already soundproofed.
Fuck!
The man was fierce as fuck when he wanted to be. A lesson Hank had learned repeatedly over the years. But he also gave a damn about him, which was more than he could say for almost every other adult in his life.
“Don’t you hello me, you birdbrain!”
“Come on, Uncle Uzzi. Not this again,” Hank mumbled and pulled out a chair for the old man, rubbing his own ear as he waited until he sat down.
Uzzi always looked so smartly dressed. He had a style all his own, usually wearing white to match his hair and beard, sometimes with accents in primary colors. Today, he wore a silk ascot the same blue as his eyes. It would have looked crazy on anyone else, but Uzzi simply looked charming.
“It is really good to see you,” Hank said, smiling genuinely at Uzzi.
The man was the closest thing he had to actual family these days. He hated disappointing him. Hank’s heart warmed when, after a tension filled moment, Uzzi returned the look.
“And it is good to see you too, my boy,” Uzzi said, clasping his hand before he remembered he was pissed at Hank.
Grumbling under his breath, Uzzi flicked his finger in the air and a bolt of blue magic whizzed past Hank’s face and zapped him in his earlobe this time. Like a magical ear flick.
“Ouch!”
“What the hell are you thinking? Letting those feather-faced idiots find you a mate when you know perfectly well that is not how this works, Hank!”
“Fuck. How did you find out?”
“I have my ways. Surprising you even have to ask, my featherheaded friend,” Uzzi growled and frowned, squinting at him as if trying to read his mind.
Dammit.
He was a wonderful uncle, but scary too. The Witch had the uncanny ability to tell when Hank was full of shit. And as far as Hank knew, Uzzi was never wrong about mates. Sure, the old Witch believed in fated mates, but Hank was not so sure that was for everyone. And if he did, well, who was to say this was not his fate?
“I knew you were a feather head! The North American Tower can hang itself, Hank. They won’t know what you need⁠—”
“It is always nice to see you, Uncle Uzzi, but the Tower has already been contacted,” Hank interrupted, ignoring his tirade of bird-related insults. He’d heard them all, already.
“Hank, you know I just want the best for you,” Uzzi began.
“I know, Uncle Uzzi, but I made a promise to my parents,” he said, finally filling the old man in on the real reason for his decision.
“What?” Uzzi stilled, his eyes wide as he waited for Hank’s explanation.
“You know what father was like. I disappointed him in so many ways, but before they passed, I promised him I would mate a Gyrfalcon to secure our place in this ever-changing world. We’re too rare for me to just forego my duties. I can’t let him down, Uzzi.”
“Oh, Hank. Okay, I understand,” the old Witch whispered, deflated. “And you don’t care that the Fates might have another path for you?”
“I don’t know if I believe in all that,” Hank told him honestly, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Alright, Hank,” Uzzi said, eyes narrowed. “I will leave this conversation alone, but I did not just come here for that. I need you to do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“This trip you are taking to see the Tower, it is soon, yes?”
“Yes. I have to be there this weekend for the final meeting in their interviewing process.”
“I see, well, I have a client in need of a driver. Would you be opposed to that? I believe it is on your way.”
“A passenger?”
“Yes. I have the client’s itinerary and final destination here,” Uzzi said and withdrew an envelope from out of thin air.
Hank was still shocked whenever the old Witch did that. Magic was fascinating! But he would have to subdue his shock and awe, taking the packet from Uzzi intently.
“Alright, Uncle Uzzi. I will drive your friend to where he needs to go. As long as I get to the Tower by this weekend. They’re meeting in South Jersey this year.”
“Are they? Imagine that. That is exactly where this client needs to go. Well, good luck to you.”
“Thank you, Uncle Uzzi. Hey, I’m still one of your favorite nephews, right?”
“You know you are, even though I find you infuriating. Now, walk me out, Hank,” he said, embracing the younger man tightly.
“Love you too, Uncle Uzzi,” Hank said easily, returning his hug as he walked him out the door.
Now, why did that feel too easy?
Hank had to admit, he expected the old man to put up more of a fight. He watched him get into the elevator, then walked back to his desk where he opened the envelope Uzzi had given him.
Hank checked over his client’s schedule. He turned the page and froze, his blood boiling, he took in the snapshot of the pretty golden-eyed female staring up at him.
“No. No fucking way. He did it anyway, didn’t he? Uncle Uzzi!” he roared, but the man was already gone.
His heart pounded inside his chest. His blood raced like thunder, crashing inside his head. He could hardly breathe as he took in the female’s image. Then he dropped his eyes and read her name.
Annabeth Golden.
Even her name sounded fucking beautiful. Just like her. She was smiling at whoever had taken the picture with a twinkle in her eye, like they were sharing a private joke, and suddenly, Hank’s curiosity turned green with envy.
Hell no.
He shook his head, refusing to get caught up in Uzzi’s mischief. But his eyes refused to listen to reason. They dipped farther down the printed pages as if of their own accord, eager for every bit of information he could glean. Hank reread the little info passage and swallowed hard. Then, he reread it again. And that was when calm, sedate, unflappable Hank Garret really lost his fucking shit.
“Fucking sonovabitch!” he growled, slamming his hands on his desk.
Uncle Uzzi’s new client was not just someone. She was a flippant, foolish, furry feline from the very same Pride as that thorn in his side, Carter! A flighty, flirtatious, completely infuriating little Lioness who, ironically, was not fond of travel.
“I won’t do it,” he growled, crumpling the paper in his hand, but even as he said it, he knew he would.
Sure, it seemed his uncle was up to his old tricks, but there was simply no way Hank was falling for it. He was an impeccable driver, playing the role of chauffeur to perfection whenever he escorted Uncle Uzzi around. He'd always preferred Uzzi’s clients to think of him as a consummate professional—lest they try to hoist their sisters, daughters, or any other female relatives and acquaintances off on him.
Truth was, Hank Garret was not just a business owner and a rare Gyrfalcon Shifter. He was heir to the Garret fortune. Ever since he was a young man, whenever someone found out about his inherited wealth, they always had a female relative just dying to meet him. It had been that way throughout college and grad school until he dropped out of society.
Hiding the fact of his fortune, Hank opened his company, doing what he loved most. Uncle Uzzi supported him the entire time, and as of now, he was the only person who knew just how wealthy and influential the Garret family really was.
Of course, nowadays he put most of his money to work for others by funding medical clinics, soup kitchens, orphanages, free child aftercare facilities that offered tutoring, and shelters for abused women, and runaway teens. Something else his Uncle Uzzi had helped him with.
Hank did not mind working for a living. IN fact, he loved it. But no he did not have to work. He’d kept enough of the family funds for his future family, as well as the old homestead and some other properties.
Right now, Falcon Limousine Service meant everything to him. It was the perfect place for him to hire misplaced Shifters, offering them steady work and responsibility their animals needed, as well as the added benefit from being with others, even if their species were different.
Shifters needed community. He understood that better than most. If only his Uncle Uzzi understood his need to honor his parents request he mate a Gyrfalcon to carry on the line, then everything would be fine.
Staring at the luscious image of his new client, Hank had half a mind to send someone else on the assignment. He had his cell phone out and was dialing Carter before he even knew what he was doing.
“Yeah, boss?”
“Carter, do you know an Annabeth Golden?”
“Golden? From the Blue Valley Pride. Fuck, boss, if that’s who I think it is, turn down that job. That family is nuts!”
Hank growled into the phone. His Falcon was not happy at the way Carter carelessly spoke of the female. In fact, his bird was downright pissed.
“Boss?”
“Never mind, Carter,” he clicked off the call.
It was fine. He would drive the woman. There was nothing to worry about. Hank was not interested in mating a feline. Hell, if Uncle Uzzi thought this Miss Golden was his mate, then perhaps the old Witch was losing his touch.
The memory of that last zap of magic Uzzi had given him made Hank’s earlobe tingle. He rubbed it and changed his mind. Nope, Uzzi still had it. He was just mistaken about Hank.
Not nearly insulting, right? Hank’s inner Gyrfalcon thought, slightly panicked at the idea of being zapped again.
Whatever.
Hank narrowed his cobalt blue eyes at the envelope before flipping through the papers inside. Never one to ignore responsibility, he made a promise to Uzzi, and he would keep it. Hank dialed the contact number and winced when a loud roar met his ears.
See? This is what happens when you deal with furballs, he thought unkindly.
“Whoops! My bad! That was my, er, cat,” a decidedly sweet, feminine voice spoke up after the annoying snarl.
Hank seemed to forget his manners as his Gyrfalcon suddenly pushed forward with a growl of interest.
“Hello? Hello! Is someone there? Who is this?”
“Grrr,” his Gyrfalcon’s growl escaped his lips before he had a chance to recover.
Uh oh.
Almost as stunning as his beast’s reaction was the hard evidence of his arousal pulsing beneath his pants. Fucking hell, what was going on?
“This is Hank,” he swallowed hard.
“Um, okay. Hi, Hank. What can I do you for?” the husky-sounding voice was laced with sleep, and maybe something else, as the speaker tried again to determine who he was.
“Are you asleep?”
“Well, that’s kinda serial killer to ask, Hank. But since I’m more naïve than most, I’ll give you another chance. Who or what are you?” she asked, yawning louder.
Better set her straight, his inner bird pressed harder.
Hank’s chest was rumbling, his palms were sweating, and there was a loud roaring in his ears when he opened his mind to speak—only the words that came out of his mouth weren’t what he’d planned on saying. His heart beat a rapid tattoo in his chest as his own voice echoed through the receiver.
“I’m yours.”