Not My Shifter/ Sinfully Cursed (Shifter Paradise) (Volume 1)

by Kate Allenton

  Amber shrugged a shoulder. “Men will do anything for sex.”

  “Are you willing to testify that Angela Phelps was responsible for both murders?” Devlin asked.

  “What do I get if I do?”

  “How about your life? If you don’t help us out, you’re going to get the death penalty for sure. But testify against Angela and maybe we can work something out. You’re an accomplice to three murders. You can get the death penalty for all of them. Or maybe we can work it out so that you get life in prison instead.”

  “Locked up, unable to run under the full moon?” Amber looked terrified for a moment, her eyes wide, her face pale.

  “You’re going to jail one way or another,” Jameson told her. “It’s up to you whether or not you stay alive.”

  Amber hung her head and finally nodded. “I’ll testify.”

  Devlin unclipped the cuffs from the table and escorted Amber from the room. Stopping at a small window down the hall, she tapped on the glass.

  “Somers, I have one that needs to be processed.”

  Abigail Somers smiled at her. “Sure thing, Devlin. Just put her in one of the holding cells, and I’ll get her in a few minutes.”

  Devlin marched her prisoner farther down the hall and opened one of the six doors to the holding cells and practically shoved the Were inside. There was no way those cuffs were coming off until she was processed, so Devlin left them on and slammed the door shut, making sure it locked. When she turned, she nearly ran into Jameson. The damn wolf was so quiet she hadn’t realized he’d followed her.

  “Ready to go get Angela?” he asked.

  “No time like the present.”

  He looked at his watch. “It’s nearly twelve. If we don’t hurry, she’ll be at lunch.”

  “Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”

  Abigail stopped Devlin on her way past the small window once more.

  “Devlin, wait. You might not want to go in there just yet.”

  “Why not?” she asked with a frown.

  “We just released Alejandro Garza. From what I hear, he isn’t too fond of Mr. Starke.”

  Devlin looked up at Jameson. “Can you play nice if we walk through the main area?”

  He smirked at her. “You’re mine and not his, right? As long as he remembers that, there won’t be a problem.”

  Devlin rolled her eyes and grumbled under her breath about possessive men.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Abigail called out as they walked down the hall.

  When they entered the main area, Devlin spotted Alejandro immediately and did her best to avoid him. She looked across the room where Rachel was reading him the riot act, and their eyes met. Even at this distance, she could see the sadness in his gaze, and she was sorry she was the one who’d put it there. He’d always been a nice guy. He just wasn’t the right one for her. Until Jameson, she hadn’t realized such a thing even existed. Maybe she could set him up with someone.

  Jameson steered her through the room and out the front door.

  ***

  At Bigstone Industries, Devlin and Jameson stood outside the doors to Angela’s office. They weren’t sure what would happen, but neither thought the woman would come along willingly. No, there was probably going to be a fight. Devlin had hoped not to garner too much attention, but she doubted that was going to be possible. She knew if the tables were reversed, she’d go kicking and screaming. No way would she go down without a fight, and since this woman had already killed three people, chances were she’d be the same way.

  For once, Devlin was happy to have a Were on her side. Angela wasn’t just tall. She was homicidal and calculating. It was one thing to take down a Were who was running on rage, but it was another to come up against one who thought things through, calculated each move, and had a plan of action. Devlin’s heart thrummed in her chest, and she wasn’t sure if it was from anticipation, like it normally would be, or if it was something else.

  Nodding at Jameson, she turned the knob and pushed the door open. A statuesque woman stood behind an oak desk that looked like it weighed more than three Weres combined. A sea of windows let in the afternoon light. Something glinted in Angela’s hand, and Devlin drew her weapon, unsure what to expect.

  “Angela Phelps, you’re under arrest for the murders of Peter Samuels and Marcus Bender,” Devlin said as she moved farther into the room.

  The woman threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, I somehow don’t think so.”

  Devlin cocked her weapon. “I do.”

  With a smirk, the woman hurled the shiny object at Devlin’s feet. The gun went off, but Devlin was so surprised by the dark crystal flying toward her that her aim was off, and she merely clipped the woman in the shoulder. A dark swirling mist rose from the stone, wrapping around her legs, holding her immobile. Her body felt as though it was growing heavy, her vision darkening. She held out a hand when Jameson moved to come to her aid. Whatever this was, she didn’t want it touching him. She tossed her cuffs to him and hoped he knew what to do. There was no way that bitch was going to get away, no matter what she’d just done.

  Devlin felt her muscles stiffening, her heart slowing. With a gasp, she collapsed to the floor just as she heard the cuffs click into place on her suspect. Good. She might not make it out of this, but at least she’d caught the bad guy. Woman. Whatever. If this was going to be her last mission, she wanted it to be a success.

  It felt as though something was suffocating her, the smoke working its way into her lungs. She couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or shut, but everything was dark now, pitch-black. Sound had faded away until she couldn’t even hear herself breathing, couldn’t hear her heart beating, however faint it might be. Locked in her own personal hell, she wondered how long she would remain this way. How long would it take for this curse, or whatever it was, to kill her? What would Jameson do? They’d just found each other, but something told her he would take her death hard. And poor Parker. She wished she’d had a chance to tell her friend bye.

  Lost in the dark, she wondered if perhaps she was already dead. She’d always thought hell would be all brimstone and fire like the Bible said, but what if this was what hell was really like? She had no doubt that was where she’d end up. No way was she going to heaven with all of her drinking, fighting, and fornicating. Not that she regretted a moment of her life. She’d had some good times, some great memories.

  ***

  Devlin had no idea how long she’d been in the black void, but gradually things started coming through. The first was flickers of light and then a bit of sound. She could be mistaken, but she thought she heard Jameson’s voice. How could she be in hell if her wolf was here? A few more flashes and she realized she was blinking. Did corpses blink?

  Her vision was fuzzy, but she could make out the outline of Jameson and another, a woman. Her fingers flexed, and she gasped, taking in huge gulps of air. As feeling returned to her body, she realized she was cradled in Jameson’s arms. She tried to move her arms to wrap them around his neck, but they wouldn’t cooperate.

  “Easy, sweetheart. Don’t try to move too soon.” Jameson pressed his lips to her forehead.

  “Wh-where…” she croaked.

  “The Crystal Ball. You scared your wolf half to death,” said Carrie, the owner of the establishment. “That was one nasty curse the Were put on you. She didn’t get it from me, but that isn’t to say she couldn’t have gotten it from one of my customers. I have a few witches who don’t care if their spells are used for the wrong reasons.”

  “Curse?”

  “If Jameson hadn’t gotten you here when he did, you’d have died. It was a killing curse of sorts, but thankfully, it’s slow to work. It starts by paralyzing you and cutting off all of your senses. While you’re in that state, it begins attacking your organs and shutting them down one at a time until it finally stops your heart. Jameson was quick though and got you to me before that part started.”

  Devlin nodded. She’d heard of su
ch curses, of course, but had never thought she’d experience one. She couldn’t say it was something she ever wanted to try again either. More and more feeling began to return to her body and, with it, the ability to move and talk.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I cuffed Angela to her desk and called it in to the P.I.T.S. office, and they sent someone to pick her up. Your friend Parker responded to the call. While she hauled off your murderer, I brought you here to see if Carrie could help you. I didn’t know what the hell else to do. I knew there was no way a hospital could cure you.”

  She placed a hand on his cheek. “Thank you.”

  He pressed his lips to hers. “Don’t ever do that again. You scared the shit out of me.”

  She smiled. “I’ll try. Hazards of the job though.”

  “You either need a better job or…”

  “Or what?”

  “We’ll discuss it later.”

  Her brow furrowed. “No, not later. What were you going to say?”

  “The chief came by to check on you while you were out. He liked the way I handled the situation. The thing is he kind of offered me a job. I’d have to go through training, but… Well, the idea is tempting. I told him I’d only consider it if we got to work together.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “That I couldn’t glue myself to your side because you had a job to do.”

  She snickered. “Sounds like Needles.”

  “Why do you call him that? Isn’t his name Littlefinger?”

  “Yeah, well, that’s a story for another day. It’s sort of an inside joke between me and Parker.”

  “So what do you think?”

  “About you becoming an operative?”

  He nodded.

  She trailed her fingers down his throat, across his chest, and squeezed his bicep. “I think you’d make one sexy Were with a gun strapped to you. Not that you’d need one.”

  He gave her a wolfish smile and leaned down to kiss her.

  A throat cleared. “You might want to wait another hour before you get too amorous.”

  Devlin felt herself flush. Busted. But what did the woman expect? Her honey had not only saved her life, but he was going to come work with her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard such good news.

  “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get you home.”

  “But I have a report to write, and—”

  “No. You have resting to do. Parker and the others can handle your case until the morning. Until then, I think I need to inspect every inch of you, just to make sure we didn’t miss anything when you were cured.”

  Her lips tipped up on one side. “You do, huh?”

  Jameson lifted her into his arms and began striding out the door.

  “One hour!” Carrie called after them.

  “So, how long does it take to get home from here?” Jameson asked.

  “Maybe twenty minutes.”

  “Close enough.”

  Sinfully Cursed

  Kate Allenton

  Table of Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Parker McKenna squatted behind the cover of a red brick wall and peered through the binoculars. She’d positioned herself across the street from the targeted brownstone where the reported heist was to take place. The muscles in her legs ached, protesting the uncomfortable position. She glanced at her watch. Thirty minutes she’d waited, thirty long, agonizing minutes she’d never get back. She could have had a manicure, slept in, had a quickie with a shifter, or even taken the time to stop for extra coffee. All of that extra time had been stolen from her, wasted, with no sighting of the scumbag and no robbery in progress. Her reason for hiding was dwindling with each passing minute.

  She shifted her weight from one leg to the other in an attempt to ease the forming cramps and stifled her curse. The foul stench from the dumpster farther down the alley stank of rotting food and dirty diapers. Of all the potential talents, why had she ended up with the mutated super-sniffer? She wasn’t a shifter who needed the enhanced olfactory perception to ensure a meal or warn of danger. She was a fairy, for god’s sake, but unlike her shorter, winged friends; she towered over them and longed for the soft fluttering of wings at her back. It was the other fairies that mattered today, the other fairies that she’d die to protect.

  Where the heck was the scumbag? Her patience, held together by a thin strand, threatened to snap. Someone was being tortured today, the scumbag, or the informant…she didn’t care which. Either way she’d mete out her own brand of pain and justice for the soul-searing, throbbing cramps gripping tight in her calves.

  A slow torture with immense pain.

  Her mind started sorting through the charms she’d use to exact her revenge. Turning the snitch into a green blob of goo with three heads would go a long way in helping to ease her frustrations.

  Her idea of a typical stakeout included sitting in the luxury of her heated car watching the building across the street and sipping coffee while waiting on the perp to strike. Nothing was typical about today or this particular heist. The sounds of blaring trumpets and drums drifted to her ears from the end of the blocked-off road. Yes, blocked off, as in no traffic, as in no comfortable car. She growled again. High school bands and decorated floats brought cheers from the bystanders watching the latest parade as it passed. They were all oblivious to her potentially deadly drama. Well, currently it was a boring-ass wait. But if things looked up and the thug showed up, there was still potential. Only in Paradise Falls, Texas, could you find a whole town shut down to celebrate National Nut Day, an actual holiday where nuts of all types and sizes were celebrated. Nut cookies, salted, boiled, roasted and let’s not forget the nut fanatics, it didn’t matter. Everything nut-related was celebrated. The town celebrated every miniscule holiday, even if it wasn’t recognized by the feds.

  Big fat raindrops landed on her head from the darkening sky above. A clap of thunder and white streaks flashed, lighting up her hiding place.

  “Just great,” she grumbled beneath her breath, shifting her weight to the other foot again. Not only was she going to be stiff while trying to chase down the thief, she was going to be wet while doing it. She glanced up at the sky and gritted her teeth.

  The comm in her ear clicked to life. The gruff voice of her commander and chief stifled her whining. “Keep your eyes peeled, people.”

  The line went silent. Parker sniffed the air. The familiar smells of her coworkers drifted on the wind. They were nearby, as was the ever-present stink from the dumpster downwind.

  “Put your hands up where I can see them,” a deep male voice rumbled from behind her.

  Parker rolled her eyes and let the binoculars fall against her chest as she clicked the comm in her ear and whispered, “I have company.”

  The chief cursed even as she stood, stretching the tightened muscles in her legs. She held in her groan. Raising her hands in the air, she turned slowly in place and came face to face with the intruder.

  She sniffed the air and grinned. Human.

  Tall, dark, and yummy didn’t do this man justice. He stood roughly six feet tall and sported semi-mused brown hair, the kind her fingers itched to get tangled in. Sun-kissed muscles flexed below his sleeves giving her a glimpse of a tattoo beneath. She licked her lips and ignored the revolver pointed at her chest. She could have him disarmed and on his back in three seconds flat, and had they not been in an alley, that might have had potential. Her grin grew bigger. She let her gaze travel down his body and back up, stopping on the police badge strapped to the waistband of his jeans. Her gaze flew to his face.

  He gave her a
knowing smirk and winked.

  Bastard. No red-blooded woman breathing would have passed up an opportunity to appreciate a stud of his caliber. Celebrating Nut Day didn’t seem so crazy now that he’d shown up.

  She sighed, pulling her mind out of the gutter. “Can I help you, Officer?”

  He tightened the grip on his gun. “Got a call on a Peeping Tom and you fit the bill.” He gestured to her chest. “What were you doing with those?”

  She lifted the binoculars. “Would you believe bird watching?”

  The comm in her ear clicked. “McKenna, the target is at your six, passing your alley. We’ve been made. He’s making a run for it. Ditch the cop and get back to work.”

  Parker glanced over her shoulder and caught a partial glimpse of a tall, scrawny man with pitch-black hair as he ran by the entrance of the alley. “Sorry, Officer, but I’ve got to go. The bad guy is getting away.”

  The officer cocked the hammer of the gun. Her unspoken fantasies of the officer fled like the perp getting away.

  “You aren’t going anywhere until you answer me.”

  No time like the present. Parker spun on her heel and took off, her feet pounding against the concrete. Mr. Scrumptious wouldn’t shoot an unarmed woman. She’d bet money on it.

  The new boots squeezed her feet tighter with every pressing step. She cursed, trying as she might to block out the pain from her strained calf muscles and protesting toes. Served her right for wanting to look stylish while on a stakeout. She was faster than most thanks to her fairy blood, but the skinny man had a good head start. Parker quickened her pace, and the thrill and excitement quickly pushed the adrenaline through her veins. She reached to grab the thief and came up empty as he skidded, turning down another alleyway. She tried to bank the corner and came up short, bouncing off the red brick building. Ignoring the new pain in her shoulder, she stepped into the alley, grabbed the gun from beneath her coat, and aimed. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”

  The man glanced over his shoulder and slowed to a stop before turning to face her head-on. She advanced with caution, scanning the man and the sparkling object clutched in his hand. The Devic Crystal.