by Abby Niles
Chapter Two
Britton strolled into the PD and approached the front desk, putting on a wicked smile for the older female desk officer with graying brown hair. “Hey, Rhonda. Lovely as always. Still in love with that old fool, or do I finally have a chance of sweeping you off your feet?”
Though she swatted at him, her soft laugh told him she was as entertained as ever with his antics. “I’m too much for you to handle.”
Propping his elbow on the high desk, he leaned forward, whispering in a seductive purr, “Really? I bet you could teach me a thing or two, then.”
“Oh, that’s a guarantee.”
He laughed, but it died as seriousness stole over her expression.
“Who called me in?” he asked.
An hour ago, dispatch had called him back to the station. She gave him a why-don’t-you-look-for-yourself nod behind him.
As he glanced over his shoulder, his smile vanished and dark ugliness stormed through him, making his body stiffen. Val leaned against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest, nary an emotion flickering across her stony face.
He wasn’t ready for her. It was too soon.
Fighting back the rising tide of vile emotions she stirred in him, he plastered on a fake smile. Everything in him wanted to put distance between them, but he forced his feet forward, forced himself to speak. “Well, hello, Princess. How can I help you?”
A snarl twisted her lips and she all but ground out, “Harwood wants to see you.”
He frowned. The summons by the elder was unexpected. The High Council hadn’t had anything to do with Britton in over four years. Not since they had sentenced him to living for twenty years as a human, with none of his shifter abilities, and stripped him of his job as head of SPAC. All because of their black-and-white laws that had no room for the gray areas in between. Yeah, so he’d almost exposed the shifter race. “Almost” wasn’t the same as “had.” Didn’t matter, though. He’d still broken a sacred law and now he was paying the price.
“The elder? In regard to?” he asked, feeling the familiar burn of bitterness churn his stomach. It didn’t help that they’d sent her to tell him. He didn’t need any reminders the bitch had his job. She did that well enough on her own.
“I’m not at liberty to say. I’m just to bring you in.”
“You?”
If anything, that snarl became even fiercer. “Yes. Me.” She shoved off the wall and stalked to the exit. “Now come on.”
The immediate desire to rebel against her command kept him planted in place.
But as she disappeared out the front exit, curiosity got the better of him and he begrudgingly followed her into the parking lot. When she opened the driver’s side of her car, she sent an accusatory look at him and said, “Get in. I’ve already had to wait for over an hour for your slow ass.”
What the fuck was her problem? She was acting like he’d done her some disservice. It wasn’t his damn fault the council sent her out to do its bidding. It was part of the job. He should know. “I had shit to do. I am a cop.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that expired tag ticket was a real high priority.”
At her superior tone, he clenched his fists, especially since that was exactly what he’d been doing. “Go to hell, Val. I know where the council building is. I can drive myself.”
Her jaw tightened. “I’m under orders to bring you in myself. Get. In.”
“Only if you ask nicely.”
He was pushing it, and if the way her pupils dilated and her lips tightened in rage meant anything, she was plotting his certain death. But he didn’t care. He had her exactly where he wanted her, under the High Council’s thumb, and she would be nice to him for a change.
“Please.” Her lips didn’t even move around the one word, but he’d gotten her to beg, so he opened the passenger door and slid inside.
Val seemed very put out by the High Council’s demand, which gave him an even greater sense of victory. It was about time she got a taste of her own medicine.
But what could they want with him? Whatever it was, she wasn’t happy about it. As she settled in the driver’s seat, her hands gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles were white, her jaw set so tight she had to be grinding her teeth.
Britton smiled, the roiling distaste easing its hold on his gut, and he relaxed back against the seat.
Whatever they wanted, he should thank them for knocking her down a peg or two. She didn’t seem so high and mighty now.
…
They made the ten-minute drive in silence. Britton didn’t mind; he had no desire to exchange words with Val, anyway. As soon as she parked, she snatched the keys out of the ignition, flung the door open, and hopped out. He got out more calmly, slowly, which increased her agitation as she raked a hand through her hair and bared her teeth at him. He lifted a brow, the image of cool, deliberately provoking her.
She released a breath full of anger. “Get your jollies now, Townsend, because it won’t last for long.”
Yanking open the door to the council building, she disappeared inside.
What did she mean by that?
He followed and joined her in front of the elevator, where she punched the button harder than she needed to, then crossed her arms and tapped her foot. The doors dinged, and she flounced inside, refusing to look at him as she sorted through a key ring until she found a small key and inserted it in a keyhole on the panel.
Turning it, she opened another panel and punched a button that read MAINTENANCE.
The elevator whooshed downward, and a few seconds later opened up to long hallway lined with ornate cherrywood walls and glossy, beige marble tile. A woman in her early forties with curly red hair sat behind the reception desk, typing away at a computer.
He grinned. “Maddy! How have you been?”
The smile she gave him was genuine. “Britton Townsend! I’ve missed your face down here.”
Maddy Solamire had worked the front desk at the High Council for as long as Britton could remember. She’d always been the bright spot in what was usually a solemn occasion of appearing for a trial or escorting a prisoner to Kerker—the shifter’s secret prison. Located in a remote area an hour west of Carnal Ridge, the prison was nestled far away from civilization. The most human contact that had come across the place was an occasional moonshiner scouting prospective locations for an illegal still.
“The council is expecting you. You can go right in.” Maddy glanced at Val. “Detective Calhoun, the council has requested that you wait here until after they speak with Britton.” She motioned to a row of uncomfortable-looking seats.
Detective Calhoun? After almost four years, she and Maddy should’ve been on a first-name basis. It was a relief to know he wasn’t the only one who had a bee up his ass when it came to Val. What was her deal, anyway? Did she believe she had to be cold and aloof to get ahead?
Britton took the exact opposite approach. He knew everyone’s name, smiled, chitchatted, asked about their life. Which built trust, familiarity…loyalty.
As Val went to sit, Maddy turned another warm smile on him. “You can go on back. You know the way.”
After rounding the corner, he headed down the hall toward a pair of overly large arched wooden doors. A sense of déjà vu seized him. How many times in his seven years as head of SPAC had he entered this room? Many. But only one time played in his mind now.
The last one. A little over four years ago.
When his life had changed forever…or at least for next twenty years.
Four down. Sixteen more to go.
He remembered the questions, the worry, going through his head as he’d walked this very path, knowing the High Council was furious at what he’d done. But he’d had the conviction that he’d done what was needed even if he had broken shifter law, firmly believing that right was on his side.
That may have been true, but the law was the law. And the law seemed to be blind to true justice.
The last time he’d exited t
he council room, he’d left broken, lost, unsure of what life would be like going forward. No longer a shifter but unable to forget who he’d once been, and just be a human, he’d been caught between worlds. It had taken him months to find his feet again, to find his place. Sometimes he still struggled with it.
As he stopped in front of the doors now, he rolled his shoulders, calming the nerves that twisted his insides. He hadn’t done anything wrong. No reason to worry. Not this time.
With that assurance, he slipped inside.
Nothing had changed. The room was paneled in the same deep cherry as the hallway. The council members sat behind a long, polished wood table. As always, their expressions remained impassive. He took a seat in the single chair before them, avoiding the steel shackles attached to the arms and legs.
They’d used them on him last time he was in here. Not for fear of him retaliating, but because of the pain they were about to invoke.
Shoving away the memory, he kept his arms folded over his stomach, well away from the metal cuffs.
He scanned the stony faces before him. They always did things as a team. Unified was their motto. Never show a chink in the armor.
And damn it, they never did.
“Detective Calhoun said you wished to speak with me.”
Nine members turned their heads to look at one man—Harwood.
Elder Harwood cleared his throat. Britton noticed he’d aged since he’d last seen him, his gray hair a little thinner, rotund physique a little slimmer, and wrinkles more noticeable around his eyes and mouth.
“We need your help, Officer Townsend.”
Britton blinked. He’d never believed the council would request help from him again. “Excuse me? I’m not following.”
A strained smile came to the elder’s lips. “There’s been an unfortunate occurrence that we need to have contained before things…escalate.”
Since they were coming to him, it had to be one hell of an escalation they were worried about. He didn’t bother keeping up-to-date on the everyday happenings in the shifter world anymore, since his focus was now on human safety and not shifter. However, there had been one event even he hadn’t been able to overlook. “This is about Samantha Mills, isn’t it?”
The councilman shook his head, an astounded sigh shooting past his lips. “You were always extremely intuitive. Such a shame things ended the way they did. Be that as it may, we are offering you temporary clemency in exchange for your help.”
“Temporary? Why not permanent?”
The glower Harwood sent him would’ve instantly frozen a boiling pot of water. Oh well, it had been worth a shot. It wasn’t as if he had anything to lose.
“Our job as the High Council is to enforce the laws our forefathers put in place to protect the shifter community. You broke one of the sacred laws of our people, Officer Townsend. Because of your dedicated service to SPAC, we showed you leniency by giving you the serum instead of the required twenty years in Kerker. You have been able to live your life in freedom and continue on with the Carnal Ridge PD as an esteemed law enforcement official.”
Esteemed? Yeah, right.
Handing in his resignation to the homicide department had been humiliating, even if his commanding officer hadn’t known why. He still believed it was because Britton had gotten burned out and wanted to return to beating the street.
“Don’t take our mercy lightly,” Harwood continued. “If warranted, we can and will review your case.”
He stared at the councilman in disbelief. The High Council never resorted to threats. But he heard Harwood’s warning clearly. If he didn’t cooperate, he’d find himself on an extended vacation in Kerker.
“What’s wrong with Detective Calhoun?” Britton asked. “She was hired to take my place. Why do you need my help when you have her?”
“Her abilities are secondary to yours. You are, and most likely will always be, the best nose in the country. Detective Calhoun has already proven that this case is beyond her expertise, and to get the situation under control as quickly as possible, we’ve been required to demote her. She will work under you and assist where needed.”
For a second he froze. And almost smiled. Not that he ever wanted Val under him, in any form, but in this instance he’d make an exception.
No wonder she’d been livid. Miss High and Mighty had fallen from her throne. And he was being offered her job. Just as she had been offered his when he’d fallen.
Well, well, well. How the tables had turned.
That alone was enough for him to agree to do this. Not that he had a choice. He sure as hell wasn’t going to Kerker.
“Exactly what is the situation?” he asked.
“Samantha Mills’s son was taken from World Shifters by an unknown group of radicals. If we do not reform the ancient laws and release Samantha, they are going to tell the world of our existence. They are holding the boy hostage up in the mountains. You will find them and get him back. We need this resolved.”
Wow. No wonder the council was willing to work with a criminal they’d convicted themselves. “Is a team being assembled?”
“No. With you on the case, there will be no need for a task force. Detective Calhoun will lend help as needed, but we are relying on you to get this settled as quickly as possible.”
Only the most confidential, complex cases were given to the head of SPAC because they had the rarest abilities. “So you have nothing to go on?”
A muscle twitched in Harwood’s cheek. “No.”
So it was just him…and Val.
Dea. How was he going to handle being alone with her again?
He’d done it a couple of months ago when they’d searched for Liam after he’d been abducted by a wack job bent on revenge. Britton hadn’t gone completely mad being around her. Maybe the south side of crazy, but not stark-raving mad. He could do it again.
Harwood nodded to one of the council members at the end of the table, who stood holding a hard plastic case. As Councilman Ryker approached Britton, he opened it and withdrew a syringe filled with a pale purple serum.
Ryker looked at him. “Lift your shirt.”
He hesitated, remembering what it had felt like the last time they’d stuck that long needle under his ribs. Agony would’ve been welcomed. But what he’d felt that day had far surpassed agony.
As the serum had emptied into his body, his beast had raged, ravaged his insides, tearing at him until he was sure the animal would claw its way out of his skin and emerge from a mangled hole in his torso, a rabid beast before him…not a part of him. Then the convulsions had started, his beast trembling, bucking, making it difficult for him to draw breath, suffocating him.
He had gasped for air, yanked at the shackles, believing it wasn’t just his beast they were taking away from him, but also his life.
Then his beast had gone silent, and he hadn’t felt it or his abilities ever since.
What would happen this time?
“The shirt, Officer Townsend.”
“Don’t we need the shackles?” He somehow produced a smile, trying to come off nonchalant, but he was held captive by the sight of the syringe.
“Not this time.”
Swallowing, he gathered his shirt up over his pecs. Ryker tapped his right side with two fingers until he found a spot between the ribs. Slowly, the needle went in, deep under Britton’s skin. As the serum emptied, his side warmed, as though a flush of heated water was being injected into him.
No pain. No movement. No snarling.
Nothing.
Ryker straightened, and Britton studied the man’s impassive expression. “It didn’t work.”
“Your beast and shifter DNA have been dormant for over four years. It will take a few days for your beast to fully awaken from its slumber.”
“How am I supposed to get this done quickly if it takes that long?”
“Your abilities should start returning within the hour. Reconnecting completely with your beast is what will take time.”
> So the process would be slow this go-round. Seemed unfair, since it’d taken nothing more than a minute for them to silence his beast. Maybe it was better this way. He’d gotten used to living as a human. If he could solve this case before the full reconnection took effect, maybe he wouldn’t have to relive losing it again.
The months following the injection had been awful.
He hadn’t realized all the little things that had made him a shifter. Endurance, extra strength, extra energy…all gone. Running had become difficult when it had been effortless before. He’d spent hours in the gym retraining his muscles, and still could only lift half of what he’d easily handled as a shifter.
Learning to adjust had taken a long time, but he’d found a way. And after watching Liam and Aidan deal with the Drall, he’d become thankful for his punishment. Who in their right mind wanted to be controlled by an all-consuming instinct to mate? Or have to face the repercussions of the so-called “gift” from their Dea?
A gift that allowed a shifter and his mate to fewse their souls together so they would never be parted. Even death couldn’t separate them, but kept them spiritually connected until the other passed on, as well, and brought them together to live happily ever after in the sacred shifter hereafter known as Anavrin.
Eternity with one woman. Blech.
He never, ever wanted to deal with that shit.
Now he was susceptible to it again, or would be in a few days. He needed to be careful—keep away from anyone who might awaken the instinct.
As Ryker walked away, he lowered his shirt.
Harwood looked at him. “An arrangement will be made with the police force. As of right now, you are on medical leave due to a back injury from some home repairs. You will be with Detective Calhoun 24-7. Both of you will live and breathe this case until it is closed. We’ve made reservations for a small cabin up near where World Shifters is located.”
So he was locked away with his enemy for the foreseeable future.
A shudder of disgust went through Brit.
Well. There was some good news, anyway.
At least now he wouldn’t have to worry about the Drall.
