Suave as Shift
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Suave as Shift
The Protectors Unlimited Book Two
Keira Blackwood
Copyright © 2018 by Keira Blackwood
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.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any actual persons, places, or events is coincidental. All characters in this story are at least 18 years of age or older.
The cover utilizes stock images licensed by the author. The model(s) depicted have no connection to this work or any other work by the author.
Edited by Liza Street
PS brushes courtesy of Brusheezy.com.
Contents
Introduction
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Also by Keira Blackwood
Can’t Prove Shift: Chapter One
About the Author
Introduction
It’s Lincoln Blake’s turn to meet his mate.
Suave as Shift is the story of a cocky, over-the-top tiger shifter, the assignment of a lifetime, and the one woman who can bring the tiger to heel.
Snag your free Protectors story, Revenge, exclusively available to Keira’s email list!
Chapter One
Lincoln
Ripped like a chainsaw, suave as fuck, the greatest action hero of all time didn’t live in the movies. He probably should have. But instead, the unsung hero of legend told his own tale.
All the women wanted him, but he couldn’t be tied down. He was like a balloon. A manly balloon. No, a pterodactyl, flying free.
This badass was chosen by the Therion Tribunal to deal with the weirdest of weird shit. Best man for the job, for any job.
And this badass was me.
I kicked open the doors of a warehouse. Wood splintered from the impact. Shadows scurried through the darkness, but my magnificent tiger eyes were as sharp as my razor claws.
It had only taken a few days of tracking the pattern of victims and the locations of their bitey assaults, before I narrowed my search to a block of run-down warehouses on the east side of Millville. Vampire hideouts were always sewers, graveyards, or abandoned warehouses—routine bloodsucker M.O.
What wasn’t routine about this case was that the dude left victims alive and able to talk about what he’d done to them. This vamp must have been recently turned, didn’t know how to mess with memories. Yet somehow, he had the control to not drain his victims dry. A stupid vampire was more dangerous than a smart one. The smart ones killed people. It was terrible, but the damage ended there. But the dummies were worse—they caused enough destruction to sew suspicion of the existence of the supernatural in the minds of humans.
If word started traveling far and wide about the existence of vampires, what would people believe in next? Shifters? Not on my watch.
The cloaked figure dashed through the cluttered building, using darkness and stacked freight for cover.
I raced behind, gun drawn, ready for anything. The vampire cackled and leapt onto a rope that dangled from the supports of the forty-foot ceiling above. He was fast, but not as fast as me.
He shimmied up to a catwalk before I could reach him, but I was gaining. He turned and leaned over the railing, flashing me his ghost-white face and pointed fangs.
I trained my pistol on the undead asshole. “Freeze, bloodsucker!”
“Foolish mortal!” he called, in a voice worthy of the finest B horror films. “Your firearms cannot kill what is already dead!” He sure as hell was committed to his overacted part.
“Hey, Count Chocula, these aren’t just regular bullets. They’re like paintballs, only filled with holy water.”
He took a step back.
I hazarded a glance to my right and saw the metal stairs that led to the catwalk. Maybe I couldn’t reach him in time on two legs, but I could on four. I set my weapon on a nearby crate and folded my suit jacket neatly beside it. Then I tore of my shirt with one hand, buttons flying across the floor, exposing my glorious eight-pack.
“What are you doing?” The vampire’s confusion was my opportunity. “No, Count Vasile does not wish to see this!”
Count Vasile—pretentious name. It fit the fake Eastern European accent, but it didn’t fit this rundown, rat-infested warehouse. Count Chocula was more apt. And he was fortunate to behold my sheer awesomeness. To see my tiger shift would be the high point in his pitiful existence. He was lucky I had come for him, instead of some other vampire hunter. If he was really lucky, he might even survive the Tribunal’s justice.
My bones cracked and reformed, glorious pain that signified so much more. Fingers morphed to massive paws as my bare skin was covered in a dazzling orange and black coat. Claws and fangs—the tiger was incoming.
“Oh, shit!” the vampire screamed.
His girly squeals fueled my epic ascent. I raced up the steps, fur and fury, the most badass of badass killing machines.
The vampire tried to run, but he was too late. I leapt into the air, snarling, and came down hard on his back. I closed my jaw around his neck, but did not bite down. I wanted this sucker alive.
His face slammed into the metal floor of the catwalk and he yelped. I stood over him until I was content that he was ready to completely submit to my superior prowess.
When the vampire stilled, I stepped off of him and flipped him with my muzzle.
To my surprise, the creature began to cry, a great bawling that would put the angriest toddler to shame. I noticed his fangs were gone. Were they retractable on vampires? Either way, that wasn’t the case here. There they were, on the floor next to him.
I shifted back into my human form, and crouched beside the baby man.
The white of his face—smeared clown makeup. There was a slight urine stink, too. Pretty sure vampires didn’t pee themselves.
“You’re not even a vampire?”
“No,” he sniffled. “I just like to bite girls.” I watched the rise and fall of his skinny chest. Count Vasile was definitely alive. Not reanimated alive, but alive alive.
He sucked in a deep breath, bottom lip quivering.
“You think vampires are real?” He was just a scared idiot, a scared human idiot, who apparently had a thing for biting.
I didn’t answer.
“What the hell are you?”
I didn’t answer that either. Instead, I jogged back down the steps and threw my suit back on, and slipped my phone from my pocket.
Knowing the way Leonard would respond didn’t stop me from making the call. I had to report back.
He answered immediately. “Brute Pawn, this is Leonard.”
“Hey Pops, how’s it going?”
“Lincoln.”
“How’d you know?” I laughed. He didn’t.
“What happened?”
“I found him,” I said. “Count Vasile. Vampire extraordinaire.”
“It wasn’t a vampire, was it?” Leonard asked.
“Could have been,” I said, while watching the worm on the catwalk curl up in the fetal position.
“No,” I said. “I’m going to need a favor.”
“Tell me it was some kind of non-human. Something supernatural.”
“Not exactly.”
“You need a witch,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“I need a witch.” I nodded and straightened my cufflinks.
Leonard sighed. I could just picture him rubbing his hands over his wrinkled face as he always did at times like these.
“Text me the address,” he said. “And hang tight.”
“Sir, yes sir.” I mock saluted the dark, dingy warehouse and hung up the phone. Then I did what he asked.
It took a couple of hours, but Vasile wasn’t going anywhere. I bound and gagged the idiot, then dragged him down the stairs to keep him close while I waited. Eventually, the clean-up crew arrived.
Asher and Lola. I recognized their scents before they stepped through the shattered doors.
Before I’d met Lola, I never knew that there were witches who could scrub the memories of humans. I’d thought that was the pretend power of pretend monsters—like vampires. Turns out it’s all real, and then some.
“It’s the cavalry,” I called out. “Thank goodness. If I had to listen to another minute of that blubbering idiot over there, I might have just lost it.”
“You gagged him.” Asher looked down at my captive, who was tied securely to a metal shelving leg.
“Exactly,” I replied.
“Never mind.”
“So you bagged this vamp all by yourself?” Lola asked. At least she knew how to have some fun. The blue-haired witch was a jewel next to her generally grumpy wolf shifter partner.
“I did. So glad you’re impressed,” I said.
Lola smiled. Asher scoffed.
“What are we going to do with him now?” I asked. “We’ll just have to stake him, I guess.”
This earned muffled cries from the man on the floor and another scowl from Asher—exactly what I was going for.
“Kidding.” I gave Vasile a reassuring tap on the head. “Lola’ll make you forget. It’ll be just peachy, you’ll see.”
“So this guy thinks he’s a vampire or just says he is?” Lola crouched down beside Vasile and examined him, tilting his chin up to meet his fake red eyes. He pulled away like her touch burned.
I shrugged. “My professional opinion is this guy just likes to bite people.”
“That doesn’t answer her question,” Asher growled. Apparently I was not his favorite person, though I couldn’t imagine why.
Lola nodded, as if I’d told her plenty, so I guessed I had.
Asher grabbed my elbow and pulled me away from the witch.
“I could hear his heart beating when I entered the building.” Maybe Asher just liked to scowl, and brag.
“Congratulations,” I said.
“If you had been paying closer attention, we wouldn’t have to be here. You should have known this guy was a human.”
“Did Leonard send anything for me?” I asked.
Asher sighed.
“He did, didn’t he?”
“Taking care in your work, using caution before you shift is—”
I held out my hand and waited for my package.
“You know what,” Asher said, “never mind. Do whatever the hell you want.” He slapped the envelope in my hand.
“Thank you.”
Lola rose to her feet. “Nice work, Lincoln. Even though he’s not a real creepy crawly, it’s good to get this guy off the street. Is it weird that I feel worse for his victims knowing he’s not really a vampire?”
Asher ground his teeth together and lowered his brow even further. Soon it’d be on the floor.
“Not at all, sweetcheeks.” I offered my most charming grin.
Lola laughed. I didn’t know how it was possible, but Asher’s scowl deepened.
He made himself too easy to tease.
I peeked inside the envelope from Leonard. There was a stack of cash, an ID, and a note.
“My next assignment is already set.” I clasped Asher’s shoulder. “Be a doll and finish this one up for me.”
He cursed under his breath as I walked away smiling.
Chapter Two
Juliana
Even after the worst heat of the day was over, and the sun had set, the red vinyl suctioned to my thighs. Milly’s Diner was the only sit-down joint in all of Barbetta, so sticky seats were just part of the atmosphere. Country music crackled through dodgy speakers, and the already too-hot air was heavy with grease.
While I waited for my sister to meet me for dinner, I kept my eyes cast down on the book on the bench beside me. It was just getting to the good part, where the vampire would reveal himself from his place in the shadows as an eternal sex god, and the heroine would know in her heart that she’d found the love she’d been searching for—it had always been him. If I was lucky, he’d show her with his fangs, with a bite that made her immortal, and with the kind of skills in bed that fulfilled her every desire.
Too bad real life didn’t work like that. Too bad real men came with sloth-like stamina instead of superpowers and the body hair to match. Or maybe that was just my experience.
“Hammond.” Brian Dickbag Nielson spat my last name at me as if it were an insult. To a Nielson, it was.
His name wasn’t actually Dickbag, though it should have been. And most people didn’t call him that, though they should have.
Brian Nielson was the spoiled son of the town sheriff. He got away with treating the world like it owed him everything, like he was the prince of Barbetta and everyone else should treat him like he was. Mostly, they did.
Dickbag continued on his way to the pool table where he banged balls with his buddy. Yes, I know how that sounds, and no, I’m not sorry. The bros still wore their team jackets from the high school football team even though they’d graduated half a decade ago, and it hadn’t been jacket weather in months. They treated their role as assholes like a full-time job and did everything together, including harass people who were minding their own business.
I turned my attention back to my book, Beefcake Bloodsucker.
“Who’s there?” Lydia’s eyes darted back and forth across the dark alley.
“It is I, sweet Lydia.” From the shadows a figure emerged. She didn’t need to see his face to know that it was him, for her heart would know him anywhere.
“Oh, Prince Charmula!” She wrapped her arms around his neck, throwing her body against his.
He caught her and spun her around, parting her lips with his tongue. Her dress billowed like an umbrella in the wind, while his embrace made her feel things—a glorious rainbow of joy and wanton desire.
She knew she should be afraid. She knew his touch was too cold to be human, that he was far too handsome to be real. But she didn’t care, for she loved him from the tips of her toes to the point of her nose, and everywhere in between.
“Oh how I adore you, a boundless fondness that endures beyond death,” Lydia confessed.
Long fangs erupted from his mouth, and she knew. This was it. Better to die in his arms than live a moment without him.
“Do you love me still? Knowing the monster that holds your fate?” His voice was gravel, rough and tough and stoney.
“Yes! A million times yes,” Lydia proclaimed.
My seat jostled, and the table creaked.
An adorable brunette climbed into the bench across from me, pulling my attention up from the story. My sister was a ray of sunshine, always managing a smile, even when I couldn’t figure out how.
“Hey, Jules.” Emily put her hands together on the table and leaned back in her seat. Her small frame was dwarfed by her oversized scrubs, and her eyes were sunken in dark circles. She looked tired, just as she always did after her shift ended.
“Hey,” I replied. “How was work?”
“It was okay,” she said. “I’m ready for a nap.”
“I hope you’re ready for dinner first
. I ordered burgers.”
“Sure,” she said. “I could eat.”
“I should hope so. I ordered extra fries,” I said. “How's Michaela?”
“The same, mostly,” Emily replied. “I can't go into any specifics, but everyone is hopeful that she’ll recover soon. She's strong.”
“She's always been strong.” Michaela and Emily had been in the same grade, the class three years ahead of me in school, and my sister had taken it hard when her longtime friend fell into a coma. No one seemed to know what had happened. Michaela was healthy. One day out of nowhere, poof, she ends up in the hospital, unconscious. It was weird, and tragic, and the whole town was rooting for her to wake up.
Brandi, the frail waitress, dropped our plates on the table. It was the burgers and fries I’d ordered.
“Here ya go.” Spit flew out from the corner of Brandi’s mouth as she chewed her gum in big, slow, wide circles. She even had the dead stare of a cow, focused just a few inches too far off to each side.
“Thank you.” Emily smiled.
Brandi stalked back to the kitchen without another word. Weirdo.
“How about you?” Emily asked. “How's work?”
“Same shit, different day,” I replied. “Last night Ron hung around in the back for two hours just staring. Again.”
“Gross.”
I nodded.
“He didn’t say anything this time, did he?”
“You mean like the licking sounds? Or that weird humming like he just can’t get the letter ‘M’ out of his mouth?”
Em shivered and I laughed.
I picked up my burger and the sesame seed bun flattened in my gentle grasp.