Running Free

by K. Webster

  “Don’t get his hopes up.” I sigh and sidestep out of his confusing closeness. Everything about him — his scent, his natural body heat, his beautiful stature — muddies the water in my head. I need to think.

  Scanning the cages, I inspect each puppy and dog. I’ve managed to do a pass through the whole kennel area, ignoring Gunnar all the while, until I lock eyes with two frightened brown ones. A toy poodle, with the blackest of curly hair whimpers and cries, begging me with words only another dog would understand.

  She’s a shifter.

  “Oh, honey,” I coo as I approach, “Everything’s going to be okay. You’ll see.”

  But just as I near her cage, Gunnar steps in front of me and pops the latch on it. “Frankie, check this one out. Her eyes. Shit, it’s like she knows what we’re saying!”

  His excitement unnerves me and I try to shoulder past him to reach her but he’s already tugging her out of the cage and into his arms.

  “Give her to me. I saw her first,” I snap.

  He turns to me and his eyes are wide with shock but he quickly schools it away, a scowl taking over. “Says who. She likes me,” he states and the little thing sets to licking his face as if to help him prove his point.

  “I don’t care,” I growl. “I was here first, so she’s mine.”

  “Where were you between the hours of seven and nine last night?” he blurts out, his arms still firm around the puppy.

  My anger explodes from me. “What? We’re talking about a damn dog not an alibi here. Hand me the dog and I’ll tell you where I was.”

  Concern for the little thing paints his features and guilt washes over me. She seems quite happy to have him as her savior but she needs me. I can help her better than some lonely human ever could.

  Lonely.

  The guilt digs a little hole in my heart and decides to live there.

  If she were to go home with him, he’d have a sweet little companion and she’d have a protector — a cop no less. All would be well in the world.

  Until…

  Until one day he’s petting her in his lap and she shifts before his eyes into a naked pre-teen girl.

  Then what?

  Fucking chaos, that’s what.

  She needs me. End of story.

  Gunnar

  I’m curious as to why she’s so damn adamant about adopting this puppy. It’s like they’re connected and it’s apparent she’s not about to budge.

  “Tell me where you were and she’s yours,” I promise.

  She lets out a relieved breath and blurts out her response. “The bar.”

  I roll my eyes at her and shake my head. “Not good enough, Frankie. Do you have any witnesses to corroborate your whereabouts?”

  Her glare is wicked but I don’t back down from it. She needs to answer the damn question.

  “You’re annoying, Gunnar. Jesus. Ask anyone. All the regulars. Gordon Lightfoot was there all night — he’ll back me up. Now give her to me.”

  I’m thankful to know she has an alibi. I didn’t want to think she was the murderer but I’m a cop and we don’t discount anything. Even the really fucking hot ones.

  With a groan, I pass the puppy to her. Frankie seems relieved to finally have the dog in her arms and her protective nature comforts me.

  “What are you going to name her?”

  Her eyes fly to mine in confusion before she plasters on a fake smile. “Um, Curly Sue.”

  “Okay then. Curly Sue it is. I was thinking something a little fiercer like Blacky or Killer or Ankle Biter, but Curly Sue works too.” I grin at her.

  Her lips twitch as she tries to keep from smiling. God, those supple pink lips. My mind takes a nosedive into the gutter and I clear my throat in hopes to squash the semi hard-on I was getting at imagining those lips all over me.

  “Curly Sue seems vicious to me. I bet she runs this kennel when nobody’s watching,” she muses and strokes the little pup behind the ears.

  I chuckle. “Right. I’ll get her an application for the K9 academy. In the meantime, why don’t you and Killer, er, Curly Sue help me pick out a pup.”

  Frankie smiles, this one genuine, and I decide right then that I’ll do more of whatever it takes to see those smiles more often.

  “I saw a cute white dog over there,” she says and points in the direction of another group of dog crates.

  But a yelp in the other direction grabs my attention. The little guy I first saw sends me the saddest pick me expression a dog can give and I cave. Stalking back over to him, I ignore all the rest so I don’t take home the whole damn animal shelter.

  “Hey there little guy,” I say and pull the frail dog from the cage. His tail thumps wildly and he attacks my face. With kisses, that is. “You’re a cute little thing.”

  I turn to cast a glance at Frankie who watches me with a serene smile. Her serene smiles are beautiful too. Hell, even when she’s pissed and frowning, she’s gorgeous.

  “Are you blind?” she teases. “He’s not cute. Quite pitiful looking if you ask me.”

  Scoffing, I shake my head. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking you. Me and Cutie Pie were meant to find one another. He’ll make for a great guard dog, I’m sure. Isn’t that right?”

  He licks my face like mad and I chuckle. I hadn’t meant to show up and adopt a dog today but when I learned the make and model of her truck last night and then saw it here today, I knew I had to talk to her. The lie fell from my lips easily but when I saw her ferocity to find her puppy, I knew my lie would soon become truth.

  “Cutie Pie?” she squawks. “Seriously?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I meet her astonished gaze. “Yep. So when can Cutie Pie and Curly Sue have a play date?” I waggle my eyebrows and earn myself the cutest fucking giggle in the whole world.

  She thinks I’m kidding.

  I’m so not kidding.

  Curly Sue is no longer the frightened pup she was hours ago. She runs wild and free with Cutie Pie in my backyard. I was glad when I was able to talk Frankie into bringing them back to my place for a playdate. After a messy bath to clean the pups up, we let them loose out back to run off some energy.

  Frankie is one of the most guarded women I have ever met. She hides behind her fierce outer exterior but something innocent and sweet is what she protects. I know this because she’s let it peek out a few times.

  Her laugh is one of those sneak peeks.

  And I do what I can to make it happen as often as I can.

  “Stay for dinner. I don’t have to be at work until nine,” I tell her.

  She sits forward in the patio chair and pokes at the fire pit I made. “My shift starts in a couple of hours. Maybe another day.”

  Another day my ass. I want to keep her here as long as I can. Each time the wind picks up and blows her hair around, I find myself itching to stroke the strands out of her face. Or when she talks, I find myself staring at her perfect mouth.

  Jesus, I haven’t been laid in so long.

  And Frankie.

  I have to have her.

  “I have an idea,” I blurt out and stand suddenly.

  Her dark brows are lifted in question but she nods, gracing me with a smile.

  I leave her to watch over the dogs while I gather some supplies. A short while later, I come out with a package of hotdogs and two coat hangers I shaped into sticks.

  “Dinner,” I smirk, handing her a stick.

  A grin tugs at her lips. “You’re a pushy one, aren’t you? Just don’t take no for an answer.”

  Chuckling, I sit down beside her and open the package. “I’m just a very motivated man. When I see something I want, I go for it.”

  Her eyes drift to the yard where the dogs play and she frowns. “A cop going for a bad girl. Hmmm.”

  I don’t satisfy her with an answer and instead push the hotdogs onto each of our sticks. Once I have mine in the fire, I look over at her.

  “You’re not a bad girl, Frankie. In fact, so far, I like everything I se
e.”

  She snaps her head to mine and furrows her brows. “Yeah? Well, there’s more to me than meets the eye.”

  I stew on her words but don’t have a comment. She’s the type of woman who won’t settle for words. Actions are what mean more to a woman like her.

  “And I’m not some pretty face either. I have layers,” I tease. “Look, Frankie, I like you and I want to get to know you more.”

  She doesn’t reply and sets to eating her hotdog once it’s cooked. Truth is, I’m comfortable sitting here in silence with her. It feels right. For the first time in several months, I’m beginning to feel like myself again. Carla did a number on my heart and right here… tonight, it’s starting to show signs of life again thanks to Frankie.

  “Gunnar?”

  I blink open my eyes and realize I must have drifted off in my chair. “Mmm?”

  “Are you okay? You fell asleep. If you work the nightshift, when do you sleep? You spent the day with me,” she murmurs, taking the coat hanger from me.

  I frown to see my hotdog charred to bits. She pulls it off and tosses it into the fire before putting a new one on the stick.

  “I don’t sleep much,” I say, honesty dripping from my words.

  Her concerned eyes meet mine as she cooks another hotdog. “Curly Sue and I will leave. You need some rest. I wish you would have told me.”

  Shaking my head at her, I accept the stick with the now cooked hotdog on it. “Thanks. And, I don’t require much sleep.”

  She watches me while I eat, our eyes never leaving the other. When I finish, I tease her to lighten the mood.

  “You could always nap with me.” I flash her a naughty grin and her eyes widen. For a moment, I see it. Her mind took the dirty path mine did hours ago at the animal shelter. We’d be stupid not to acknowledge the mutual attraction between us.

  Eventually she sighs and looks up at the darkening sky. The rain has held out but it won’t be long.

  “Gunnar—”

  “Call me Gun.”

  Her smile is back. “Of course that’d be your nickname.”

  “I’m a cop. Seems fitting.”

  She giggles but it fades out when the wind picks up. “Gun, I can’t date you. We’re too different. You’re hot, I’ll give you that. But I’d just want to have sex with you and then move on. You seem like a relationship kind of guy. I absolutely don’t do relationships.”

  Reaching over, I cover her hand that rests on the arm of the patio chair with mine. “Fine, let’s just go have sex then.”

  She gapes at me and I chuckle. “Frankie, I’m kidding. But seriously though. I just went through a crushing divorce. Not a moment goes by where I don’t think about the betrayal of my ex-wife. I can assure you, I’m not eager to jump into a new relationship.”

  Her frown is immediate and I wonder what upsets her. The fact that I was married before? That I don’t want a relationship with her?

  “But listen,” I quickly add. “Just because I don’t want a relationship, doesn’t mean I’m okay with a one night stand. There’s a connection here. Don’t you feel it? It feels right being around you. For the first time in months, I’m smiling again. My body has woken up and I’m craving someone again. That someone is you. I think we’d be idiots not to see where this goes. Take it slow, I don’t care. I just want to have more puppy and hotdog playdates with you.”

  Her lips twitch and she attempts to hold back a smile. “Gun, it won’t work,” she says with a sigh.

  “Come here,” I mutter. “I need to show you something.”

  With her lips pressed into a firm line, she nods and leans for me. I slide my fingers into her soft, messy hair and draw her to me. Her lips part and her eyes flutter closed giving me all the permission I need. Pressing my lips to hers, I take a moment to revel in the softness of the kiss. But as soon as our lips meet, a hunger that has nothing to do with food takes over and our mouths open, our tongues taking over.

  The kiss is smoky, a hint of smoked hotdog in her taste, but it’s also electric. I devour every moan that spills from her. My God, it’s heaven kissing this woman. One of her palms finds my cheek and her fingers flutter over the unshaved shadow there. I want her hands all over me.

  As we kiss, both of us barely stopping to breathe, my dick thickens with every brush of our lips and tangle of our tongues. Visions of carrying her into my bedroom and fucking her into tomorrow are on the forefront of my mind. But, despite having not been laid in a while, I’d also be happy sprawled out on the bed doing just this like a couple of horny teenagers.

  A crack of lightening nearby jerks us both from our kiss and Frankie blushes. Does a girl like her even blush? The pink on her cheeks is hot as fuck and I’ve convinced myself now that if she goes to my room there’ll be more fucking than kissing.

  “I should go. My tires are old and don’t do well in the rain. Plus,” she exhales, “you need sleep.”

  I’m not eager to let her go but she’s right. My dick aches for relief but I ignore it and press a soft kiss on her cheek near her ear. “Fine, you win. But we’re doing this again. And soon.”

  A crack of thunder rattles the windows in the house causing Cutie Pie to yelp and jerk me from my sleep.

  “It’s okay, little guy,” I murmur, letting him snuggle up under my arm.

  Absently, I stroke him while I think about Frankie. The woman intrigues me to no end. I’ve lived my life for the better part of a decade interrogating people. And, even though I refrain from laying the questions on her, I can see she hides so much of herself from everyone.

  At some point, I will peel away those layers.

  I’ll discover the woman beneath the armor.

  I will make love to her and make her mine.

  That, I can feel in my gut.

  With a groan, I roll over and pick up my phone that’s plugged into the nightstand. My shift doesn’t start for another hour but I’ve missed several calls from Fitz.

  “Shit,” I hiss out as I sit up and dial him back.

  “About damn time.” His annoyance in me has my hackles rising because give me a fucking break, my shift hasn’t even started.

  “What?” I bite out, delivering back just as much attitude.

  He shuffles some papers and grumbles. “Gun, the coroner found something on both the bodies.”

  My brows furrow with wonder and I climb out of bed on a hunt for clothes. “And this couldn’t have waited?” I complain. “Well, stop beating around the damn bush. What’d he find, Fitz?”

  “By the way they were cut open and disemboweled, I had him search not only weapons but also other possibilities.”

  I saunter into the bathroom and catch a peek at my reflection in the mirror. Shadowed cheeks a little sunken in are proof of a lacking appetite since the divorce. Dark bags under bloodshot eyes are proof of one too many days with little to no sleep. I’m falling apart here.

  “What possibilities?”

  He sighs. “The lacerations are consistent with the claws of a bear.”

  I snap to attention. “Bear? You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

  “Nope.”

  “So we’re on the lookout for a homicidal wild animal?”

  “Yep.”

  “Jesus, Fitz. Call the goddamned animal control or the forest ranger. Why are we even still talking about this case?”

  I turn on the water for the shower and slam my eyes shut. This town is so different from Chicago. There’re many times I consider moving back. And this is one of them.

  “Gun, meet me at Woodland Pond. We got a call about another teenage body.”

  Well, shit.

  “I’m on my way.”

  Frankie

  I’m fucking exhausted.

  After a late night last night running the woods looking for answers about Acey’s death, I didn’t get much sleep. When Gun suggested I nap with him, I seriously considered it.

  What would it have felt like to simply sleep with his massive arms curled around me?
<
br />   The image rattles my chest and the tight sensation within is a foreign one. A part of me is pissed at the fact I’m a fucking shifter and can’t have normal relationships. If I were a normal woman, I’d have jumped on that man already and given my body to him a thousand times by now.

  He’s sexy and confident.

  Strong and sure.

  Intelligent and funny.

  Protective and sweet.

  Everything I didn’t know that attracted me to a man.

  But a shifter and a human together is unheard of. Against some unspoken code. Simply wrong.

  Besides, I couldn’t have stayed with him anyway. I had something bigger to deal with. Curly Sue was not some puppy who needed adopting. The toy poodle was not a poodle at all. She was a Poodle shifter and scared out of her wits.

  As I swipe a rag over the bar, cleaning up some spilled beer, I glance in her direction. She sits perched at one of the tables devouring a cheeseburger and drawing. Her black, curly hair is wild on top of her head and the clothes I let her wear hang on her small frame. I asked her what her real name was, and she had burst into tears.

  “I’m no longer that girl.”

  Twelve. Just like I was.

  “I want to be Curly Sue.”

  Knowing that that wouldn’t work, especially with Gun sniffing around, we’d agreed on Suzie. As if cued into my thoughts, she lifts her chin and her chocolate eyes meet mine. A sweet smile, so innocent, graces her lips and I find myself reciprocating.

  She goes back to drawing, the tiny muscles under her brown skin flexing with each movement, and I sigh. Otis was nowhere to be seen when I brought her home with me earlier so it was up to me to explain who she was. Together we shifted and ran the woods for hours. Then, I explained how to control her feelings and thoughts — how to let it all go black and then we shifted back.

  I’d fed her. Bathed her again, this time in human form. And clothed her.

  And I’ll be damned if I let anyone hurt her.

  The door opens and three soaking men enter. Grey eyes meet mine and I smile. Luca loves riding his bike and when it rains, it doesn’t stop him or his buds. His dark hair is dripping and plastered to his face. The animal in me scratches and claws to copulate with him.