by Rider, C. P.
Shattered
The Sundance Series
C. P. Rider
VC GROUP, LLC.
Copyright © 2021 by C. P. Rider
Cover design by Sylvia Frost/The Book Brander, www.thebookbrander.com
Developmental editing by Sue Brown-Moore, SueBrownMoore.com
Proofreading Services by Laurel Kriegler, www.laurelckriegler.wordpress.com
Translation Assistance by Julissa Tirado Martin
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For Vic, mi alma gemela. Thanks for everything you do. There's no one I'd rather shelter-in-place with than you.
Contents
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Also by C. P. Rider
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Like your urban fantasy with a little romance?
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Chapter One
It was Sunday, December 31. A holiday on a traditional day of rest. But there was no rest for the weary—or, apparently, the wicked.
"You will accompany us. This is not a request," the male wolf, a real alphahole, commanded. He was big, broad across the shoulders, and heavily muscled. The female with him was half his size, muscular, and held herself like a soldier.
"Welcome to La Buena Suerte Panaderia. Can I interest you in a pastry? Perhaps an iced coffee for you to enjoy on your long, disappointed drive back home?"
I sprayed vinegar on my fancy new display case and wiped it away with a clean towel. I'd recently renovated my bakery with a fresh paint job, though I'd kept the multi-hued shades that had made La Buena Suerte Panaderia a celebration of life in jeweled splashes of color. That meant the building was still pale gold, the veranda shading the entrance brilliant pink, the exterior window frames bright purple, and the front door fire engine red. The inside walls remained a sunny saffron, the windowsills orange and purple. The front door was blue on the inside, to match the recently repaired Talavera tile on the countertop, and Mexican folk art items continued to hang on the walls.
My little desert bakery. My home.
I'd had to close the panaderia for a while during renovations, but luckily my friend, ex-assassin and all-around badass Chandra Smith had negotiated reparations with every shifter group who had tried to kidnap or otherwise harm me over the last few months, so at least I didn't have to worry about funding the downtime.
The money she’d procured had paid for the lion's share of the bakery repairs. It had run out pretty quickly, though, which was why I wasn't entirely upset at the two wolves who'd just stormed in and demanded that I leave with them. They weren't going to hurt me, and I might even get some new baking pans out of it.
"Our trip home will not be disappointing," the female wolf said. "We do not intend to leave here without you."
I dropped two concha pan dulce into a paper bag, then added two orejas, doing my best not to sprinkle sugar and cinnamon over my shoes. I already had pink concha topping and approximately two tablespoons of flour caked into them after experimenting with making slider rolls for the Dusty Cactus saloon this morning.
"Your intentions have nothing to do with me, as I told the three other Texas wolves I sent packing a week ago. Oh, and if that was your pack, thanks for messing up my Christmas. Super appreciated that."
Sarcasm was my best friend these days. Fair enough, since Mr. Sarcasm himself was my boyfriend. However, said boyfriend—Alpha Lucas Blacke, leader of the Blacke shifter group—wasn't here today. He had a business meeting in San Diego, and he'd taken his second-in-command, my friend Chandra, with him. That meant my usual deterrents weren't around, so I was on my own with these shifters from—
"What city are you guys from again?" I asked.
The male wolf responded. "El Paso, Texas. We're a fifteen-hundred wolf—"
"Just the city, thanks. Need to know where to send the reparations invoice. Also, no thanks. Not going anywhere with you."
The female shook her head. "There's nothing for you here. You have, what, eighty shifters in this nowhere desert town? You could be powerful with us in ways you can never be here in Sundance."
We had more than eighty—over the last year, the Blacke group had grown to nearly three hundred shifters and other types of paranormals—but I wasn't going to tell her that. Let her underestimate us.
"Why does everyone think I'd be better off in a pack? Maybe I like being on my own." I'd had this conversation before. With Lucas, Chandra, Amir, the witches, friends, neighbors, acquaintances… Everyone thought it would be smart of me to join the Blacke group.
Everyone except me. Kind of.
The male and female looked at each other, then at me. He spoke first. "The protection factor alone is worth it. When you attack a pack member, you attack the whole pack, and no one wants to take on that many shifters."
"Also," the female added, "there's comfort in being completely yourself, you know? Not having to pretend to be human. Plus, there's the added benefit of being part of something larger than you."
"You've given me a lot to consider." Not about joining their group, but they didn't need to know that.
"So you'll come with us," the male said. It definitely wasn't a question.
"No. If I'm joining a shifter group, it's going to be the one you're currently pissing off by trespassing on their territory."
"There is no trespassing," the male replied. "You are not a member of the Blacke group."
"True, but I am within the bounds of their territory and you have not requested permission to be here, so … six of one, half-dozen of another."
The female wolf scowled. "You—"
"—have work to do. Yes, I do. Leave, or I will spike you. Sometimes I spike people just hard enough to make them go away. Sometimes I spike them dead. Are you going to play spiker Russian roulette or will you do the smart thing and walk away?"
The male shook his head. "You don't know who you're dealing with."
I was in the wolf's head, had latched onto his brainwaves the minute he walked through my café door. A smile played across my lips as I plunged in farther, poking at his gray matter to make sure he felt me.
"S-Stop." His arms went stiff and straight at his sides. Spittle formed on his lower lip, and drooled down his chin. His eyes opened wide, the orbs rolling from side to side as if he were viewing a particularly interesting tennis match.
"What are you doing to him?" The female pulled the male wolf around so she could see him better. Fear bled into her face. "Let him go."
"My range only extends so far. Once he's beyond cou
nty limits, he'll be fine. Maybe."
The female wolf's head whipped from me to her partner and back to me. She growled, and the air between us charged with energy.
"Shift, and you'll be dead before fur covers your head." The way I said it, with no fear or urgency, must have convinced her, because she let her energy spin out.
"We'll be back, spiker."
"Good." I spooned ice into two cups, and added cream and coffee. "I could use a new rolling baking rack. The wheels keep sticking on my old one. Tell your alpha leader she, he, or they will be hearing from the Blacke group very soon."
Without a look back, the wolf tossed her partner over her shoulder and shot out the door.
"Another day, another jackass." I snapped the lids on the iced coffees. Unfortunately, this wasn't over. I still had to deal with the human couple I'd been forced to spike when the El Paso wolves burst into the bakery and loudly announced themselves.
"Hello, Melanie and Carlos," I said softly as I slid out from behind the counter with the bag filled with pastries, another one with bolillos, and the two coffees. "I hope you enjoy the pan dulce and coffee. Don't worry about dozing off just now, you've been driving for a long time and you're so tired. Perhaps it would be a good idea to take your food back to your RV and lie down for a nap before getting on the road. Isn't that a lovely idea?"
"Yes," the couple replied robotically.
Melanie and Carlos were a late-middle-aged couple who had told me they were on their way to Phoenix to visit their daughter. That was before the stupid wolves barged in, of course.
"Did you put in the rolls?" Melanie peered inside the bags. "I was going to make turkey sandwiches later. I've got a new zesty mustard I'm anxious to try."
"I put in four bolillos, like you asked me to."
"Zesty mustard," Carlos shook his head. "Listen to her. We turn sixty and she's suddenly using words like 'zesty.'" He yawned, and scratched at the back of his head.
"I like zesty things. Why do you think I picked you?" Melanie smiled at me, then frowned at Carlos. "This lady is right. You look tired, honey. It's a good thing we brought the RV with us."
"To think you wanted to stay in a hotel," he grumbled.
The couple gathered up their pastries, rolls, and drinks, and shuffled to the door. They would not remember the spike, but even if they did recall bits and pieces of their experience here, they would attribute it to fatigue and their minds playing tricks on them.
I'd begun practicing this technique on human customers a few weeks ago. It probably seems cruel, but it was the only way I knew how to keep my skills sharp. Non-lethal spikes on paranormals was akin to blunt-force trauma to the face. Non-lethal spikes on humans was more like brain surgery … on an ant.
"Thank you." Melanie said as they reached the door, which coyote shifter Dan Winters now held open for them.
Dan. Wonderful. The last person I wanted to see today. Or any day.
"You're welcome," I replied to Melanie.
The coyote shifter kicked the door shut behind the couple, the Costa family heirloom welcome bell hitting the window with a ringing crack. He strolled into the empty bakery, raising his voice in an insulting imitation of Melanie. "Yes, thank you for turning our brains into your own personal toy box, spiker. The pastries are tasty, too."
Dan Winters was a white guy of average height with brown hair, brown eyes, and glasses. He had the bearing of a tax auditor and the personality of lightly toasted bread. Unfortunately, he was also the Blacke shifter group's third-in-command. He didn't like me for several reasons, and all of them had to do with my being a spiker.
A dull ache bloomed at the base of my head. Non-lethal spikes were not fun for anyone, including me. "What are you doing here?"
"You mean besides watching you abuse your power? Nothing much."
I stormed behind the register and began vigorously cleaning the counter. "Go away."
"No can do. Amir asked me to keep an eye on you while he saw to an issue with some of our group members. Which you are not, so I don't know why we're watching you."
"Then go. It's not as if I need your protection." I squirted cleanser on the register keys and began scrubbing them down. Tedious, but it kept me from spiking Dan.
"I'm bound by my alpha to protect his mate," Dan said through gritted teeth. "No matter my feelings, I will do what my alpha commands."
"Bullshit."
Dan stared hatefully at me, but didn't respond to the verbal jab.
"I want you to go." I said it simply and plainly so that even Dan could understand.
"Your wants don't concern me in the least."
The bell on the front door rang again. This time it hit the glass in a welcome way, making a soft tinkle. Shifters didn't always make noise with the bell, though it was considered polite to do so. Case in point—Dan hadn't made a sound when he opened the door for the human couple, and he was obnoxious.
"Trouble?"
Amir Gamal, the Blacke group’s fourth-in-command, was an American of Israeli-Egyptian descent. He was tall and muscular, his skin a golden bronze, his eyes dark brown unless in hybrid or eagle form, when they lightened to shiny copper. The guy looked like a male model, and, according to Lucas and Chandra, that's exactly what he was.
"No trouble," I said. "More wolves is all."
Dan ignored me, focusing instead on Amir. "Did you get things settled?"
"Yes. Everything is fine." Amir shrugged. "An argument between brothers. Heated, but nothing serious. They've already made up."
"I don't know why Alpha didn't ask me to handle it. I usually do the domestic disturbance duties." Dan shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers.
"Perhaps he thought I needed to improve my diplomacy skills."
After that answer, I'd say Amir had already perfected them.
"May I please have an iced coffee, Neely?" He approached the register, his manner stiff and formal. Was it because of Dan, or me? "I need caffeine."
"Of course." I filled a cup with ice. "Cream and sugar?"
"Cream, no sugar," he replied, plopping into a chair at a nearby table. "You can go home, Dan. Thanks for the assist with Neely-watch today."
"Sure." Dan walked out the door, the bell striking the glass hard.
Amir waited until he was out of earshot. "Sorry about that. I know you two don't get along."
I didn't reply. Instead, I filled the cup with coffee and cream, and put a lid on it, sealing it up tight with the edges of my thumbs.
"Alpha told me to keep an eye on you while Chandra and he were gone today. He also asked me to handle all group business myself, so I had to have Dan stop by here after I got the call about the Eddy brothers. If you don't like that, take out your annoyance on Alpha, not me." He scrubbed at his eyes.
"I'm not taking anything out on you. I'm refraining from saying anything about Dan. Because if I told you what I really thought about him, you'd have to deal with that, too, and you don't seem up to it." I set his coffee and a paper straw on the table, and took a seat across from him.
"No, I'm not." He plunked the straw into his lid and sucked down half of the coffee in one pull. "I retract my complaint and thank you for your thoughtfulness."
"Whoa. You did need coffee. What's going on?"
"I flew in from L.A. late last night. Week-long job. The pace was grueling, even for me. The photographer insisted on keeping us all up for thirty-six hours straight so he could achieve a 'sleepless chic look.' His words, not mine."
"That sounds awful."
"It was, but the pay was too good to pass up." Amir drained the rest of his coffee, so I got up to make him another one. "Thanks, Neely."
"You're welcome. Can I make you something to eat? I've got fresh rolls in the display case, and leftover egg salad in the fridge."
"I already ate, but I'd love some cookies. I haven't had sugar in two weeks. Nobody in Los Angeles eats real sugar. At least, not in the places I hang out."
I finished making his drink, put a ha
lf-dozen pink polvorones into a bag, and handed him both as I took my seat again. "Sounds like you're hanging out in the wrong places."
"It's good to be home." Amir's shoulders relaxed as he sprawled in the chair.
"I can't believe Lucas told you to babysit me. You were right before. I'm annoyed."
"He worries."
"He's nosy." I drummed my fingers on the table. "Why did Chandra go with him anyway? She just took over the Dusty Cactus. The woman has a business to run."
"That's why she went. She had a breakfast meeting with a possible liquor distributor in San Diego. According to her, that's all she does anymore—meet with suppliers." Amir chuckled again. "It made sense for the two of them to go together. Plus, Alpha gets to use Chandra's thinly-veiled meeting rage to get out sooner."
"Her what?"
"Meeting rage. One of us always accompanied Alpha Blacke to meetings when the San Diego alpha leader was still in power, and it was usually her. The only problem was, she has a low tolerance for tedious people and things."
That sounded like Chandra, all right.
"So, she'd grind her teeth and do that 'I could kill you with one finger' stare at anyone who prolonged the damn things. Alpha loved it, because it took the pressure off him. He'd be in and out of most meetings in under a half hour."
"Yeah, he hates being pressured to meet in person. Do you think he purposely scheduled those meetings today, knowing that Chandra was planning a trip to San Diego?" Because that sounded exactly like something he would do.
