by Michelle Fox
“Thanks, deputy.” Talon scrawled his signature in the required places and then dropped his pen with a sigh of relief. “There. Done.”
“What’s happening? Where am I going?” Mitch asked. His eyes were so wide he looked more like an owl than an eagle. Typical. Strays like Mitch were all false bravado. The second they hit any consequences, they were scared little cubs looking for a handout.
Talon picked up his coffee mug, soaking up its heat. It was early spring yet and the nights ran cool, making a warm drink a welcome comfort. Leaning back in his chair, he propped his feet up on his desk. “You, sir, are headed for Alaska. There’s a bear community there that needs labor for various logging and mining operations. You’ll be working for them and once you work off the costs of transporting and training your sorry ass, they’ll not only pay you, but you might even earn some free time to call your ma.”
“Alaska?” Mitch blinked at the sheriff, flummoxed. “I don’t want to go to Alaska. I hate being cold.” The stray visibly shivered.
“It’s too late for regrets, my friend.” Talon slurped down his coffee, telling himself the hot liquid didn’t hurt...much.
“But the drugs weren’t mine,” Mitch said, making one last ditch effort to duck out from under the trouble he’d made for himself. Unfortunately, that meant he fell back on lying. They always did.
Talon just sighed as he stood up and grabbed the syringe. Keira had already measured out the dose so all he had to do was squirt out any air bubbles. Stepping around his desk, he quickly jabbed Mitch in the bicep.
The hawk shifter shrieked and thrashed in his chains, but he couldn’t stop what had already been set in motion.
Talon patted the man on the back and leaned down to look him in the eyes. “Nighty night. Your dreams are probably going to be the only good thing you’ll have for a while. Try to enjoy them.”
“Fuck you,” Mitch screeched, fury shining bright gold in his eyes.
Talon ignored him and gathered up the paperwork the pilot would need, putting it into a folder to keep it neat. By the time he was done, Mitch was out cold and ready for his transfer.
“Keira? You all set?” Talon hollered.
“Right here, sheriff.” She gave him a little salute as she came into his office. “Just seeing off the last of the team.”
“Everyone good?” There’d been a bit of a bar fight when he’d called out Mitch.
“Yeah. Any injuries are on the other side of our fists.” She jabbed the air for emphasis.
“Good. Carry this guy out and load him up in the van, will you?”
She nodded and went to do as he asked, unwinding the silver chain and then draping the stray over her shoulders. Shifters ran strong, but Keira was an unusually strong woman even by shifter standards. That probably hadn’t helped her case with her pack, Talon mused as he watched her stroll out of his office, her back straight as if nothing could ever bring her down.
He locked up and followed her outside. Time to wrap up this drug case and see about visiting the inside of his eyelids for a while.
Chapter Five
~Talon~
Talon heard her before he smelled her. The shrill voice laced with desperation and anger. The clack of her heels on the bar’s worn linoleum floor. She was insisting on seeing the sheriff, and Keira was doing her best to keep whoever it was from disturbing his one, inviolate morning ritual: Donuts and coffee.
Thanks to Mitch, he’d pulled an all-nighter and all Talon wanted was a moment’s peace to artificially prop himself up with sugar and caffeine. He started every workday with a baker’s dozen of cinnamon donuts from Mama Mia’s Bakery just down the street from the bar. Hazelnut coffee with a splash of cream made it all go down that much better.
Everyone knew not to speak to him until after he’d eaten his fill. Especially after nights like the one he’d just had. At least he had something to show for his sleep deprivation, the drug ring was effectively shut down…until the next one sprung up anyway.
Talon slipped another donut in his mouth and closed his eyes as the sugar hit his taste buds. It was heaven on his tongue.
Perfect, save for the bitch whining outside his office.
Cramming one more donut in his mouth and washing it down with the last of his coffee, he stood up and flung open the door of his office. His hackles prickled up and down his neck as he looked for the woman who was making such a racket, a man couldn’t eat in peace.
The place was empty except for his motley crew of stray shifters. A good number of them sat in the back booth playing cards, while the few that had been assigned a turn at bar duty were in the process of mopping the floor and wiping down the tables. Or that’s how things usually went at The Crescent. At the moment, however, everyone was watching the woman.
He narrowed his eyes and fixed them on her as well. Pretty strawberry red hair swirled over her shoulders to frame a heart shaped face that held bright blue eyes. Her figure ran in rounded curves with full hips and a generous bosom that her shirt strained to cover. She smelled good, too, a captivatingly feminine mix of honeysuckle, fresh grass and sweetness that made Talon’s nose snap to attention. His wolf jumped to his feet in his mind’s eye and stared at her, too, giving a soft yip of approval.
Down, you old horn dog. Not on the agenda today. His wolf looked disappointed but didn’t fight him.
To the woman, he said, “What is it?” His question was accompanied by a deep growl. Pretty wasn’t sleep, and it sure as hell wasn’t food, so he refused to be swayed even if he did keep taking quick sniffs of her scent.
Everyone submissively dropped their eyes at the sound of his voice. They knew better than to provoke him, but the woman didn’t and barreled onward, oblivious.
“Morning, sherriff,” she said, her gaze direct.
Talon met her eyes without blinking, wondering who this woman was. She didn’t look familiar. He would’ve remembered the feel of those hips pushing back as he took her from behind. He clenched his jaw. Damn. Where did that come from?
More practically, there should’ve been a heads-up from one of the pack sheriffs if they were sending someone in. The woman wasn’t a stray, that much he could tell. She carried herself like she had nothing to fear, like she had a home pack to guard her back.
“Sheriff? Are you listening to me?” She looked at him, her brow furrowed,
He blinked, scattering the images of her naked and begging for release from his brain. Time to focus on the job, champ. He waved to his office. “Why don’t you come in and tell me all about it?” The words were pleasant enough, but the gruffness of his voice belied his irritation. One of the newer strays he’d recruited visibly flinched, but the woman didn’t even seem to notice.
She brushed past him on her way inside his office and that was when the full force of her scent hit him. Like flowers mixed with deer musk. Best smelling woman he’d ever met in his life.
Pointing a finger at his deputy, he glared at her, hoping it hid how hard the woman’s scent was hitting him. “No one else comes back here, Keira. If you have to beat them into unconsciousness, then do it. Got it?”
Keira blanched and nodded. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
Talon turned his back on her and focused on the stranger who’d disturbed his morning’s peace.
Who is she?
Why does she smell so damn good?
Talon prided himself on being thorough in his job. He knew every stray in the area. Knew most of the pack shifters, too, and he never forgot a face. But this woman? He’d missed her somehow. He didn’t like missing things.
He returned to his seat and watched as she settled into the chair on the opposite side of his desk. God, that smell. It just kept coming.
She leaned forward in her seat, earnest and intense. “You have to do something. Immediately.”
Talon peered into the donut box and picked up the last one, purposely inhaling the air around the donut to obscure the woman’s scent with its sweetness. “I do?” He ate half of the
pastry in one bite, and hearing the way her stomach growled, he offered her the rest. It wasn’t in his nature to share, but every so often he had a rare weak moment. It was probably because she smelled so good. Her scent messed with his head, made him think about nuzzling her neck and sucking that sweet aroma right off her skin as he buried himself inside her.
Talon shook his head, forcing those thoughts to scatter. He was the sheriff, not a horn dog looking for a bitch in heat.
“If you don’t mind,” she said, her voice tentative. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
Their fingers brushed as he passed the donut over to her and they both paused for a second, shocked at the sensation. He thought he had imagined it, but the small gasp she gave as they touched told him she’d felt it, too.
Talon narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s your name?”
“Gretchen,” she said. “Gretchen Halbmond.” With that, she shoved the donut into her mouth.
He relaxed a fraction of an inch. “You’re Hank’s daughter?” He didn’t know the Halbmond family well, but he’d seen old Hank around. The man had always been friendly and upright. Talon would’ve never expected trouble from him, and his pack, Huntsville, was a stand up group of shifters. They had one of the best alphas Talon had ever met; wise but not afraid to show his strength.
Still chewing, she nodded. “You got anything to drink, sheriff?”
He handed her a bottle of water from the stash he kept in his desk. “So, Gretchen, what brings you to my door at such an early hour?”
“My father, Hank.” She twisted open the water bottle and took a quick swig. “He was attacked. I’ve been taking care of him all night.”
Talon straightened in his chair, instantly on alert. “What happened?”
“I-I don’t know exactly. I got a text yesterday from someone I don’t know threatening my father.” Gretchen took a moment to drink more water, her plump lips closing around the bottle in a way Talon found most fascinating.
To distract himself, he got his own bottle of water and chugged it while looking to the side, trying to cut her out of his line of sight. However, it was too late for his imagination, which had gone wild. Damn. What was wrong with him? She smelled awesome, so what? She had curves that he would pay money to lick…his thought process derailed at that point, too fixated on the idea of Gretchen naked.
“Sheriff?” Gretchen’s soft voice beckoned him.
Talon turned and was so flustered at having to face her given the pictures in his head that he sucked on the now empty water bottle until the plastic collapsed with an audible crackling sound. Quickly throwing the bottle into the garbage, he said, “Sorry, bad habit. Go on.”
She nodded. “I called my dad to find out what was going on, but there was no answer. I’ve been finishing up culinary school and live out by Nashville right now, so I couldn’t check on him. I asked my pack to see if he was all right and they found him…” Her voice cracked and she took a second to compose herself. “Lying in the driveway, beaten to a pulp.”
“Is your dad all right?” A pang of pity lanced Talon’s heart. His emotions usually had more in common with stones than anything else, but the anguish in her blue eyes got to him.
Gretchen shrugged. “He’s getting old now and doesn’t heal as fast anymore. He’ll live, but I’m not sure his shoulder will ever be the same.”
“So how is this my problem?” He waved a hand, indicating his office and the bar in general. “In case you didn’t know, I don’t deal with pack problems. I manage the strays.”
“Yes, I understand that. I spoke to my pack’s police chief and he said this would fall under your jurisdiction. He was supposed to do a report and talk to my alpha. Have you heard from either of them?”
“Funnily enough, no, I did not.” He made a show of checking his phone and then leaned forward, stabbing his desk with a finger to punctuate his words. “Nope. No calls. Not one single text or email. They always let me know. Always.”
“Are you saying I’m lying?” Her cheeks flushed and her eyes glittered like sapphires as she drew herself upright.
He held up his hands, palms first. “You could be. It wouldn’t be the first time someone thought I could be used for their own ends.” Being a sheriff without a pack sometimes meant he was the target of various plots intent on manipulating internal pack politics. That’s why the protocol was for the alpha or pack law enforcement to notify him if one of the strays was out of line. Otherwise, anyone could make a claim and kick off a wild goose chase.
Brow furrowed, she just stared at him as if he was speaking a language she couldn’t understand. Then reaching into her purse and pulling out a stack of papers she tossed them on his desk. “I started going through my father’s things last night and found these.”
Talon picked up the papers and frowned at them. “These receipts are for a lot of money.”
“Yeah. Look whose name is on them.” She pointed to the signature line. “See that name there? Axel Sharpe is a stray, isn’t he? At least that’s what Chief Mueller told me. That makes this your problem, right?”
Talon reviewed the document carefully, noting Axel’s signature. “Your dad gave Axel fifty grand?”
“Not yet, which is, apparently, the problem. Dad doesn’t have the money to pay him either.” She took a deep breath. “Something isn’t right. It seems my dad’s mind isn’t so good anymore. He’s a hundred and one years old and things start to go, you know? He has no memory of Axel. Nothing.”
Talon frowned and looked Gretchen up and down. “Wait a second, how old are you?” Shifters lived long lives, but typically bred young.
“Twenty-eight,” she said, her voice short. “Yeah, he was an older father. It happens. Deal with it. Anyway, the point is, if Dad can’t remember Axel or why he owes him money, then he’s not mentally competent. If I have to, I’ll file the paperwork to declare him legally incompetent.” She looked at Talon, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t know why my dad would owe anyone fifty grand and he has no idea either.”
“If Axel’s involved, it’s probably gambling,” Talon said. “My guess is your dad has a gambling habit that’s caught up with him, which, memory or no memory, isn’t my problem.” Talon tossed the paperwork onto his desk. “Shifters don’t have a gambling commission. You’re on your own with this one, sweetheart.”
“My father has never gambled a day in his life, sheriff. Not even a lottery ticket.” Her eyes, although still bright with tears, were steady as she met his gaze. “Once the legal papers are filed, Dad’s not accountable for his decisions. And in my pack, that’s retroactive.”
“Well, problem solved then. Why are you here again?” Any pity he’d felt earlier evaporated. This chick, no matter how nice she smelled, was wasting his time.
“Because I’m pretty sure Axel Sharpe is the one who beat my dad up. And,” she reached into her purse again slapping down another piece of paper on his desk. “Now he’s threatening me.”
Talon reviewed the latest document which was a print out of text messages to Gretchen.
Get me that money tonight or I’m coming for you next, bitch. Only way to stop me is to pay me the money your old man owes me.
Further down the page it read:
Midnight. Intersection of 88 and 122.
There wasn’t anything identifying the text as coming from Axel, but it was reasonable to suspect the stray was the one threatening Gretchen. Talon sighed. He always had high hopes for his strays. If they bettered themselves and made amends for whatever they’d done to get cast out of their packs then, in theory, they could go back. They could have a home again, but only if they worked for it. Except Axel Sharpe had never worked for a damned thing in his life. The shifter seemed intent on finding out how far he could go before someone shoved him into an early grave.
“He doesn’t care about the law, sheriff, or that my dad can’t make coherent financial decisions.” She tapped her finger on the paperwork. “Axel wants his m
oney by midnight tonight, and if he can’t have that he’ll make us both bleed. You have to stop him.”
Talon ran a hand through his hair, trying to ease the tension creeping up his neck and into his scalp. Crap. She was right. He did need to step in. Gambling was one thing, beating up other shifters and threatening their relatives was another. Still, it didn’t sit right with him the way Gretchen came in. Someone should have called him from her pack.
Talon stood and Gretchen matched him, grabbing her papers off his desk and stuffing them back into her purse. While she was busy with that, he stepped out from behind his desk and moved in close, boxing her into the corner. His wolf, who’d been watching silently until then, gave an encouraging woof.
She stumbled back as he crowded her, looking up with an expression of wide-eyed surprise. “E-excuse me, sheriff?”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” He sniffed, inhaling her heavenly scent, which just made him more suspicious. “Are you using pheromones?” It was hard to mess with a shifter’s senses, but it could be done.
“What?” She pressed herself into the wall behind her, purse clutched across her chest.
He invaded her personal space until he felt the softness of her curves against him. They were nice, very nice and his wolf started yipping with excitement. Damn woman has my beast dancing like a puppet. What the hell? Leaning down, he growled in her ear. “Do you think I’m so easy to control?”
“I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice breathless. “I’m not trying to trick you, sheriff, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m telling the truth.”
“Hmm,” he murmured, lost in her scent. He leaned in closer, inhaling deeply. Before he knew it, his lips had found hers and the contact struck him like a thunderbolt.
Caught up in his wolf’s instincts to possess Gretchen, Talon pressed in closer, capturing her wrists and forcing her to drop her purse. Pinning her arms over her head with one large hand, he plunged his tongue into her mouth, reveling in the taste of her and the way the heat of her body melted into him.
