TIN #1.5
Reaper. Fang. Caine…
An alias for each life lived.
Government operative turned assassin, Wolf, had lived in the shadows until a secret cabal forced him into the light. The last thing Wolf needed was a confrontation with what—and who—he’d left behind. Now there’s no going back.
Agent. Torturer. Killer…
An identity fueled by pain.
Growing a conscience had not been part of the plan, but what did Wolf expect after letting certain annoying do-gooders into his life? If having to endure a season of Christmas cheer wasn’t bad enough, Wolf accepts an invitation to spend the blasted holiday with the biggest do-gooder of all, Sean Belmonte, his dead partner’s brother.
Sean has no idea what prompted him to ask the mysterious Englishman over for Christmas, but as soon as the handsome wolf Therian walks through his door, Sean is captivated. He’s never met anyone like Caine. The more time they spend together, the more obvious their attraction becomes. Can Sean get Caine to let down his guard? One thing’s for sure. It’ll be a Christmas neither of them will soon forget.
How did I not know this was a Xmas read? I read the blurb and still that little holiday setting tidbit completely went over my head. Not that it makes any real difference it's just I would have read it in time to post during Xmas in July😉.
I'm not going to say "I forgot how intriguing and fun Wolf could be" because even though my initial read was awhile back I've listened to the audio since but truth be told even if I hadn't listened to the audiobook I would still remember Wolf. He's not a character easily forgotten.
Sean Belmonte, well let's be brutally honest, he couldn't be any more opposite to Wolf if he tried, polar opposites doesn't even nick the tip of the iceberg. Some might say Wolf doesn't deserve to find happiness after what he did to Dexter waybackwhen but Dex seems to accept it so I can too.
Speaking of Dex. That phone call, brief maybe not even 2 or 3 pages long is a perfect example of where Dex and Wolf are in their connection, and dare I say showing fringes of friendship? Had Sean and Wolf not had the chemistry they do, that phone call would have still made reading Cold Light of Day a necessity. But of course, Sean and Wolf do have that smoldering, awkwardly flirting chemistry so the phone call and growing friendship of Dex and Wolf is just icing on the cake . . . or as Dex would like: a bowl of cheesy snacks followed by a dessert bowl of gummy bears.
Don't take the holiday timeframe to think this is all sugary sweet. Sure there is holiday fun but there is also everything that Charlie Cochet's THIRDS/TIN Therian Human world is known for: danger, action, and just the good old fashioned all around mayhem. Does Sean fit in this world? Maybe not at first glance but I think with Wolf at his side, he'll be navigating it like a pro before too long😉.
“It’s the holidays!”
“And this is why you gag them,” Wolf muttered. He secured the suppressor to his Beretta, pausing halfway to rub his temple. That paracetamol had done fuck all for his headache.
“Where’s your festive spirit?”
Then there was this arsehole. Did the man ever stop whinging? “Do I look like Father Christmas to you?”
Dark eyes stared blankly at him. “Who?”
Bloody Yanks. Wolf placed his gun on the steel table to his left, then rubbed his temples again, hoping to ease the pulsing ache. “Santa Claus.”
“Then why didn’t you say that?”
Unbelievable. Wolf spun with a growl. “Because it’s the same fucking thing, you arse!”
“Jeez, okay. You don’t need to bite my head off.”
Tod was rather mouthy for someone Gaffer-taped to a steel chair, his wrists and ankles additionally restrained with Therian-strength zip ties. The Human wasn’t going anywhere. Not that it was needed. Even if he let the Human go, catching him would be simple, but Wolf wasn’t in the mood to deal with nonsense.
“You’re in no position to try my patience, Tod.” This wasn’t how Wolf had planned to spend his evening, arguing semantics with filth.
“Just saying. Maybe if you embraced the spirit of the season, you might feel more inclined to extend some goodwill toward your fellow man.”
This was a first. Usually, his targets pleaded or tried to bargain with him. They didn’t lecture him on how to be a better person. Either way, Tod was the last person who should bring up goodwill.
“Is that so? You mean the way you extended your greedy little hand toward your fellow man? You know what I’m talking about.”
Tod shrugged, his lips pulling into a smirk. “’Tis the season to give.”
“Allow me to impart some wisdom to you.” Wolf grabbed his gun off the table and the spare chair he’d placed in front of Tod. Unbuttoning his Ralph Lauren suit jacket, Wolf took a seat. “This so-called festive season you keep going on about is nothing more than a load of corporate bollocks created to encourage the gullible masses to spend more money than they have in an attempt to garner fleeting affection from so-called loved ones.
“These same gits put themselves through hell to visit relatives they don’t want to see but do so out of guilt and misguided obligation. Added to the stress and mounting debt are the copious amounts of food and alcohol consumed over several weeks leading to a laughable New Year’s resolution of losing weight in time for beach season. And don’t get me started on the music. The same bloody songs playing over and over. It’s enough to drive a man mad.” If he heard “Do They Know It’s Christmas” one more time…
“Wow. That’s… wow. The Grinch could take lessons from you.”
Wolf fired a shot into Tod’s right kneecap.
The man’s howls filled the empty storage unit, going on for much longer than necessary. Wolf brushed some lint off his trousers while he waited for Tod to stop being so dramatic.
“You shot me,” Tod spat. “You motherfucking-son-of-a-bitch British bastard!”
“Now, Tod, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’m simply doing my job. Nothing personal.” Wolf pursed his lips. “It is a little personal.” He did rather enjoy making scum like Tod suffer. They were always so damned cocky, believing themselves invincible. Making them squirm and beg for mercy was quite the treat.
Tod’s bottom lip wobbled. “I didn’t mean to insult your mother.”
“Quite all right. She’s an insufferable bitch, so no offense taken. I’m referring to what you’re spending your ill-gotten gains on that I find offensive.” Astonishing how the Tods of the world believed they would never get caught. That justice—whether karmic or through some law enforcement agency—wouldn’t find them. In the end, they all paid. And Wolf? Sometimes the wheels of justice moved a little too slow for his taste.
“I… what?” Tod stared at Wolf, his beady near-black eyes rather unsettling. “Listen, whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it! Triple it!”
Wolf hummed. “The thing is, zero tripled is still zero, Tod.”
“Wait, you’re not being paid for this?”
Poor Tod. He seemed very confused. As if he’d never come across someone he couldn’t bribe. “You see, the pretty man who called in this favor now owes me a favor, and that’s worth far more than whatever dollar amount you throw at me. It didn’t work with your friends and won’t work now. Honestly, I would have taken the job without him owing me, but that’s our little secret.”
Now Tod looked scared.
Good.
“Friends?” Tod asked, voice shaky.
Wolf crossed one leg over the other, the barrel of his suppressor aimed at Tod’s chest. “Oh yes. All were tragically found dead. Dangerous business you’ve gotten yourself into.”
A few months ago, TIN arrested a small group of wealthy Humans during an undercover operation. To no one’s surprise, several of the Humans made deals with TIN to save their own arses. Little did the bastards know the TIN operative who’d exposed them for the monsters they were, had a thing about justice.
Sweat dripped down Tod’s face, his skin growing pale from blood loss. His brows drew together. “They’re Therians. Why do you care?”
After removing one of his black gloves, Wolf peeled off the small flesh-colored adhesive to reveal his wolf Therian classification tattoo. Tod’s eyes were all but ready to pop out of his skull. Finally, the real fun could begin.
“You’re a Therian!”
“Well done,” Wolf said brightly, placing the adhesive in his suit pocket before tugging his glove back on.
“But… your eyes…”
“Special lenses. They’re not exactly available at your local chemist. Try to keep up, Tod.”
“I don’t regret it,” Tod snarled. “You Therians are animals. Humans are the superior species, and if we don’t put you in your place—”
Wolf fired at Tod’s left kneecap, unfazed by the man’s howls, curses, and screams.
“You piece of shit! You’re nothing without a master. Running around wagging your tail for the highest bidder. You’re a rabid dog that should be put—”
A bullet to the head shut Tod up for good.
“I don’t like to be called a rabid dog.” With a sigh, Wolf sat back in his chair. Not how he’d expected his evening to go. It hadn’t always been like this.
Once upon a time, before the world revealed its depravity, he’d loved Christmas. His family always managed to make a ghastly spectacle of it—just another way to flaunt their wealth—but the days he spent with his little brother had made it all worthwhile. Said brother was only a year younger than him, but he’d always been so much younger in Wolf’s eyes. It was his inherent gentleness.
Wolf couldn’t help his fond smile. He did love the little shite quite fiercely. “So soft-hearted,” he muttered. Hudson had been that way since he was a lad. Always striving to help and do what was right. From a young age, he’d been a fierce defender for good. The smile slipped from Wolf’s face. Those days were long gone—no sense dwelling on the past.
He stood and buttoned his suit jacket, removed the suppressor from his gun, and tucked it inside its holster, followed by his gun. He pulled the burner phone from his pocket and hit the speed-dial button. Wadsworth answered on the first ring.
“Yes, sir?”
“It’s done.”
“Shall I send the Housekeeper in?”
“Yes.” Wolf dropped his gloves into the small incinerator by the door of the false wall. He checked the surveillance camera he’d installed when he’d set up the unit, one of the hundreds he rented across the States, all paid for through aliases and dummy corporations, sound-proofed and impeccably clean. He didn’t use them for long, switching them after a certain period. Thankfully America had thousands upon thousands of storage facilities.
“Very well. Anything else I can do for you, sir?”
“No. Thank you, Wadsworth.”
“Always a pleasure, sir. And thank you for the Christmas bonus, sir.”
“You’re welcome.”
Wolf took exceptional care of those in his employ. They had been with him since the beginning, a carefully curated list of professionals who would walk through fire for him. Loyalty was a commodity not easily obtained, but that was what happened when you made yourself indispensable to someone. If you made a deal with the devil, you shouldn’t be surprised when betrayal landed you in hell.
A car with dark tinted windows waited for him outside the facility, engine running. Wolf thanked the driver, who’d stepped out to open the back door for him. Once the door was closed behind him, the car was off, and in less than an hour, he stood in the spacious lift heading up to his luxury flat. It made him smile every time. His former agency had no idea he was right under their noses. Manhattan provided the perfect anonymity he required yet allowed him to remain close to the only person in his life who mattered. Well, perhaps not the only person, but he wasn’t about to follow that particularly troubling train of thought.
The building might have top-notch security, but when one was wanted by several intelligence agencies worldwide, it was in one’s best interest to err on the side of caution, hence the tweaks he’d made to his flat’s security system.
Lights on and flat secure, he loosened his tie on the way to his bedroom. Inside the expansive walk-in closet, he unfastened his Rolex, then placed it in the velvet-lined drawer along with the others. Connecting his phone to the Bluetooth speaker, he brought up his favorite music app and pressed Play. David Bowie’s “Ashes to Ashes” filled the room as he undressed. He put his shoes away in their spot before hanging up his suit to send out for cleaning.
Once everything was in its place, he stepped into his posh shower and enjoyed the hot spray hitting his shoulders and relaxing his muscles. He washed his hair and finished up, then shut off the water. Hair toweled dry, he returned to his bedroom in the nude and began his evening ritual of laying out a pair of boxer briefs, pajama bottoms, and a V-neck T-shirt as he air-dried. Nothing worse than getting dressed while still wet.
Once dressed, he made his way into the living room. As much as he enjoyed cooking—taking comfort in the process—he was far too uninspired to cook anything tonight. When he was younger, he baked biscuits with his little brother. Hudson had a serious biscuit obsession. To this day, his brother hoarded biscuits the way felids coveted boxes.
Placing his order with one of his favorite local restaurants, he headed over to his settee, loving the feel of the soft plush rug against his bare feet. He dropped down onto the cushion and turned on the telly. After flipping through the channels for several seconds, he groaned. He should have known better. Nothing but Christmas drivel. Reluctantly he picked one of the many ridiculous movies.
Thankfully, his alarm went off, informing him it was time for his most sacrosanct of duties. Nothing was executed with more solemnity. He picked up his cell phone and tapped at the screen to enter his security credentials. A few taps later and he held the phone to his ear. As with every other instance, he wasn’t disappointed by the smooth yet cautious response.
“Hello?”
“What are you wearing?” Wolf asked, his voice husky with a hint of humor.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Few things in life brought him joy like the blond man on the other end of the phone did. A grumpy growl resonated in the background, making Wolf smile. And then there was Dex’s husband, Sloane—a lethal, broody jaguar Therian, who Wolf loved to torment.
“What do you want?” Dex hissed.
Dexter J. Daley was unlike any man Wolf had ever known in his life, and Wolf had met all kinds of Humans and Therians. He’d met Dex under unique circumstances, and to this day, Wolf was glad he hadn’t killed Dex.
“Is that any way to talk to the fellow who took care of your little problem?”
A silent pause. “It’s over?” Dex asked quietly.
“For now. I think we both know it’s not truly over.”
Dex let out a heavy sigh. “I know.”
THIRDS
TIN
Charlie Cochet is the international bestselling author of the THIRDS series. Born in Cuba and raised in the US, Charlie enjoys the best of both worlds, from her daily Cuban latte to her passion for classic rock.
Currently residing in Central Florida, Charlie is at the beck and call of a rascally Doxiepoo bent on world domination. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found devouring a book, releasing her creativity through art, or binge watching a new TV series. She runs on coffee, thrives on music, and loves to hear from readers.
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EMAIL: charlie@charliecochet.com
Cold Light of Day #1.5
THIRDS: Beyond the Books
THIRDS: Rebels
TIN
