by E A Price
The huge male grunted, dominance filling the room. No one looked at him, no one wanting to meet his awful gaze. He cracked his shoulders and walked to the back of the bar, everyone quickly moving out of his way.
Blake served a few more customers, relaxing as chatter started again and everything returned to normal. He frowned as he noticed the guy with the scar had gone too. Unlike the huge one, he’d paid upfront, but he’d disappeared without even touching his beer. One of Blake’s regular drunks was already eyeing the drink. Thirty more seconds and it would be gone. Can’t leave drinks unattended in that place – they get drunk or drugged.
Business was steady, and half an hour passed before Blake realized the huge guy still hadn’t returned. Jackass owed him for four beers. The twenty he’d slapped down when he first came in ran out over an hour ago.
His bear growled as he followed the huge guy’s scent out into the alley. If the fucker ran off without paying… Blake stopped short at the scent of blood – fresh blood and more than one shifter’s blood. He scented a tiger and a bull shifter. And there were dents in the walls and trash cans.
Shit.
There’d been some kind of fight. Looks like the huge guy was jumped. His scent ended in the alley so he must have left in some kind of vehicle.
Who the fuck could take a male like that?
*
Los Lobos
“What do you think?”
Zane pulled away the sticker, leaving the gold colored lettering intact. Thank. Fuck. This was his third attempt, and he was running out of lamps to smash when he messed it up.
Yeah – anger management wasn’t working. At least not for him. Sitting around with a bunch of equally angry shifters while they all complained about what made them angry just riled him up more. He’d been to five sessions, and at each, he’d either been challenged or challenged others to fights in the parking lot after the sessions ended. He wasn’t certain, but he thought he saw the therapist crying at the end of session four. Probably why the wildebeest shifter had been so intent on pounding his head into the ground that day – idiot has an obvious crush on her. Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. No, I’ll never try to beat someone to death with a folding chair again. His bear snorted. Whipped.
In session five, she suggested in a roundabout sort of way that Zane seek help elsewhere. She admitted therapy wasn’t for everyone.
He was looking for alternatives. Stupid SEA. He wouldn’t have to go through with any of this if they’d just give in and let him go back to work. But no, they think he has issues. Ridiculous. He wasn’t any angrier than the next person.
He shot a glare at his secretary. Okay, maybe not. Mercy pouted and continued filing her nails. He yelled at her to stop being a cliché and get her ass over to the door. She gave him her middle finger, but she did it with a smile and got up to see what he was fussing over anyway. Mercy could be a complete pain in the ass, but she was a pain in the ass that didn’t take offense when he blew up. Which generally happened between ten and twenty times a day.
“Very nice,” she said patronizingly.
“Yes, it is,” he agreed, smiling at her.
Zane Matthews. Private Investigator.
Yep, nobody, could stop him from doing his job – plus now he wasn’t constricted by all those dumb laws like not entering houses without permission. Well… okay, technically he was – but if no one found out, he was golden.
Course, most of the cases he had investigated so far were hardly interesting. Missing pets – most of which end up at the shelters. Cheating spouses – all of which are cheating. And one missing grandma – found in a neighbor’s house. She just got turned around, and all those stupid suburban houses look the same.
One of his more interesting cases was when the owner of a strip club asked him to investigate some missing money. It was easy. A bouncer and one of the strippers were trying to rip the guy off. It had taken Zane all of thirty minutes to sense their guilt and another twenty minutes to catch them trying to flee. Easy – career criminals they weren’t. But it gave him a paycheck; he was now always welcome at The Magic Room (not to be mistaken for The Magic Box which really did have magicians), and that was where he met Mercy.
Mercy wandered back to her desk, unflappable as always. Par for the course with dove shifters – they were so peaceful about everything. She didn’t even freak out when her paycheck was a little short. The first secretary he’d hired almost scratched his eyes out when he dismissed her screams. Damn cougar. But no, Mercy just shrugged it off and told him she could work a shift at her old job until business picked up.
He hoped it did. He was about ten dollars away from actually living in the office. He was behind on his rent and living off the goodwill of his neighbor next door – an elderly beaver shifter who despite evidence to the contrary, was convinced he was too far too thin and was systematically trying to fatten him up.
Although, he didn’t want to pay too much back rent as he was considering moving. He didn’t like the way his elderly landlady fluttered her eyelashes when she suggested there were indeed other ways he could pay. His bear shuddered. Giant brown bears should not be scared by bunny shifters, but the memory of her licking her lips and shaking her bosom at him was hard to forget.
“Okay, any calls?”
Mercy shook her head. “Nope.”
“Any messages?”
“Nope.”
“Any cases?”
“Nope.”
Great. He retreated into his office and grabbed his phone, pausing while considering whom he was actually going to call.
Well, he could call one of his friends – all of which still worked at the SEA. Most were trying to distance themselves from him. The others were sympathetic but clear that they didn’t want to hear his ranting about how unfair his treatment was. Plus he had kind of pissed of Gunner Christiansen – his ex-boss. The polar bear shifter had tried to persuade the powers that be to reinstate Zane, but they hadn’t budged. Something that Zane hadn’t appreciated when he ripped into the person they hired to replace him on Gunner’s team. Zane hadn’t realized that Gunner was actually dating the psychic woman and when a look of hurt entered her eyes… well, Zane was lucky he still had all his limbs. Gunner was generally pretty low on the Richter scale – in comparison to Zane - but insult his female and all bets are off.
He could try Juliet or even Gerry – a director of the SEA and the guy Gunner reported to – but he doubted he’d listen anymore than Juliet. Cold bastardy snake shifter.
His bear grumbled as he briefly thought about calling home. His mother would cry and try to blackmail him emotionally into coming home to live with them. His father would yell at him for making her cry and would demand he come home and get a decent job at the local paperweight factory. Jeez – who even bought paperweights anymore? Anyway, his mom would cry, his dad would demand and Zane would lose his temper. The call would end with the two males roaring at each other and destroying anything within reaching distance. Altogether not an appetizing proposition. His bear and his dad’s bear… yeah, they were both too alpha to even talk to each other for longer than a few minutes. There was a reason he tried to avoid ever going home.
Nope, he hung up the phone and leaned back on in his chair. What a cluster fuck.
He could call Melissa. His bear harrumphed. The woman who got him into this mess. No, our temper did. Zane was quick to remind him of that.
But yes, hearing her voice would definitely help. He dialed and listened as her answering message came over the line. Her musical voice taunting him with the fact that she was far too busy to answer the phone for him. Goddamnit! He picked up the phone and hurled it across the room. It smashed against the wall, and he sighed.
“Mercy!” he yelled. “Can you bring in one of the replacement phones? It kind of… broke again.”
Yep, not the first phone casualty in that office. They kept a few spares in supply. He really needed to find some new therapy for his anger issues.
Chapt
er Two
Santa Leon, outside a nice house – private driveway, very swish
The man with the scar – Booker – scratched his arm. His flesh was still knitting together from his wounds the big bastard in Ursa inflicted. They itched like hell but at least they wouldn’t leave a permanent mark.
“Let’s not take any chances with this one,” he rumbled into his radio. His inner gorilla grunted in agreement.
They had with the Ursa guy, not wanting to damage him, but it had cost him. None of his team walked away without wounds, and two didn’t walk away at all. Booker had never met a more aggressive shifter, and he once dated a high profile wedding planner. Scary brides had nothing on the big guy. No, he really was a primitive beast.
They were hiding in their new target’s garden, hoping to tag him as soon as he returned home and got out his car.
“Take him by surprise and for hell’s sake don’t let the guy shift. Else it might be even worse than Ursa.”
Booker looked at his men – at the ones he could still spot from his hiding place anyway. His second in command Vargas wasn’t even paying attention. He was too busy trying to look down the top of Dr. James, their irritating human helper. The term help was in use in the broadest way possible. The bitch was a waste of time and money.
“Tranq him with everything you’ve got,” he snapped at his men.
“But we don’t want to kill him,” simpered the doctor as she pushed her glasses up her nose.
“And I don’t want any more of my men to die,” he hissed giving her an accusing glare. “You told us that asshole in Ursa would be smaller than a lion.”
“Well, judging from skeletons we’ve found of sabre-tooths he should have been… but I have also heard that there was a leg bone found that would indicate the tiger it belonged to was as big as a pony when it was alive. But that must have been a freak. It’s fascinating really.”
Booker scowled at her. Not a word he’d use. Annoying. Irritating. Fucking awful. They were words that sprang to mind. “Well, our living freak killed two of my men.”
“You said they were professionals. You said they could handle anything.”
His gorilla banged his knuckles on the ground. “You said…”
“Sshhh,” murmured Vargas, “here he comes.”
The doctor gave Vargas a grateful look, fluttering her eyelashes in her chipmunk-like face. He leered in return.
Booker rolled his eyes and focused as the electric car rolled to a stop outside the house. The guy who got out the car was enormous – but somehow didn’t seem as intimidating as expected for his size. It was probably the briefcase. Or the sweater vest. Maybe the glasses. Definitely he bow tie. Lord, the guy almost looked like a harmless nerd. Almost. His muscles still bulged ridiculously thick. The guy could easily pull the car door off its hinges and crush it into a ball. Hell, he could probably do it to the whole car, and yet, consciously he seemed to be making himself look smaller and less dangerous.
Good. Meant he wasn’t interested in fighting. Meant he wouldn’t be quick to shift and they definitely wanted this one bagged and tagged before he shifted.
Booker nodded at the doctor to stay back. She opened her mouth to argue – as per fucking usual – and he cocked his head at Vargas, who bodily lifted the small doctor away. He motioned to his other men to prepare to advance.
They all held tranq rifles, and they had orders to give the man everything they had. There was always the possibility it might kill him, but that was a risk he was willing to take. If he died, they could stuff his body and sell him – they’d still get money for that.
A twig broke to his left, and the target looked up, eyes narrowing in that direction
Fuck it. Booker whistled, and they emerged, shooting the man as he let out a horrific roar. Time to go catch a mammoth shifter.
*
Los Lobos
“Hello Zane,” sighed Juliet.
The bear shifter grumbled as he ducked out from his spot behind the ficus. She gave him a patient smile and sipped some more champagne. She didn’t care for the bubbles. If she couldn’t have blood, she preferred drinking chocolate. But this was a swanky party, and she doubted anyone would be willing to donate a few pints to her, or that they had any Swiss Miss on hand.
“Hey fangs, looking good.” He smirked insouciantly.
Juliet preened at the comment, smoothing down her evening dress. The compliment made up for the fact that the dress had to be let out at the hips and bust while a foot had to be removed from the hem. The current style was to be tall and curveless, while Juliet was small and rounded. So small she sometimes had to shop in the junior miss section. Course she always strained the bust, but that had never been an issue.
“How did you get in?”
Zane shrugged, and the smirk never left him. “Pretended to be escorting an old lady.” He waved at Mrs. Astor – ninety if she was a day - who giggled girlishly and waved in return. She was dripping diamonds and clothed in a dress that cost the same amount of money to feed a family of six for forty years. “Security didn’t dare say anything to her, and she liked the attention.”
Juliet laughed. “I’ll bet, make sure you leave before she wants an escort home. I hear she has tentacle-like hands.”
His amusement dipped a little on hearing that, making her laugh louder.
The event was a fundraiser hosted by Christian Hawk – one of Los Lobos’ most eligible and wealthiest bachelors and who fancied himself as a philanthropist. Well, he certainly didn’t seem to do any work – so she guessed philanthropy could be considered a job. The party was in aid of raising money to save the rainforest and the endangered species within. Last month it was for battered women. The month before, save the whales. His interests were varied. He came across a great man, handsome, charming, generous – which is why Juliet couldn’t help but distrust him. You don’t get to be as old as she was without a healthy dose of cynicism. But she had been invited. Nay, he had personally called her and insisted she attend. They had met at last month's fundraiser. She was a board member for the charity to help women in abusive relationships – something close to her heart – and he had taken a shine to her.
“What exactly are you doing here?” she asked Zane. The wealthy snobs hardly seemed like Zane’s sort of people – they certainly weren’t hers.
“I started my own detective agency.”
“I heard, congratulations.”
“I’m supposed to be tailing that guy over there for his wife.” He nodded to a portly, youngish man in a tuxedo eyeing the appetizers while trying not to drool.
“His wife suspects him of cheating?” Indeed, the fact that he had a wife in the first place seemed miraculous. The idea of him attracting a mistress as well seemed unlikely. She’d heard that lightning could strike twice, but come on!
“Cheating on his diet. I need to get pictures of him stuffing his face.”
“Ah.” She looked at him again, seeing the need in his eyes as a waitress with egg rolls strolled past him. “I doubt you’ll be waiting long.”
“Plus, I figured I could always ask you for my job back.” He grinned, showing an alarming amount of teeth, trying to mask his hopefulness.
Juliet gave him a long but not unkind look. “Have you been attending anger management classes?”
He scowled, and she could guess the answer.
“Zane, I know it’s hard, but try to be patient. You need to relax more. Learn how to deal with things that irritate you. I had to,” she added quietly. Yep, she’d held a lot of anger in her younger days. Being turned against her will and forced into servitude by a violent vampire master would do that to a girl.
She could see the anger rising in him; his eyes shifted to black, but thankfully, they were interrupted. It was probably the first and last time she’d be grateful for Christian Hawk’s presence.
“Ah, Juliet.”
He strode toward her, confident as always, not ignorant but uncaring of the appreciative glances of the si
mpering women he left in his wake. Juliet withheld a sneer. Chop her head off and stuff her neck with garlic if she ever looked at a man like that.
“Christian,” she said politely. She turned back to Zane, “I believe your quarry is on the move.”
Juliet nodded in the direction of the portly man as he headed towards the kitchen. Zane let out a soft expletive and stormed away.
“Friend of yours?” asked Christian, his eyes roaming up and down her small body. A lusty smile adorned his face.
Her smile widened as the word creep sprang to mind. “Former colleague.” She slipped her hand into his arm. “Escort me to the dining room?”
His face lit up like the fourth of July. She was very adept at dealing with creeps. She’d had decades of practice.
Chapter Three
Serpens City, a small bookshop – a cute one that doesn’t have a chain coffee shop and actually sells more books than greeting cards
Georgie tidied the counter once again. It was so perfectly organized that everything was now at right angles. It had been a long day and her feet were killing her. The long hours were one of the many perils of owning your own business, but she did love it.
Sadly, she didn’t love it when customers came into the store five minutes before closing time and then refused to get the hell out. By the unwritten laws of bookshops, every freaking night the place was dead for the final hour, and then someone decided to come in at the last minute.
Her inner bird squawked hungrily. The tuna panini she’d eaten for second dinner had been almost an hour ago, and she was hungry and desperate for supper. Her bird was a large beast with a bottomless stomach. She ate approximately nine small meals a day. Not including snacks – because there is always room for snacks.
She watched with ill-concealed irritation as her last customer flicked through a book called The Joy of Cooking with a Wok. Seriously? It was 10 pm – who needed to learn about the limited joys of cooking with a wok at that time of night?
Georgie, stomach rumbling almost menacingly, approached. In spite of her size, she wasn’t a dominant shifter, and she didn’t really like confrontations. It was why she hired a wolf shifter to work in the shop - the obnoxious wolf shouted at her suppliers whenever they were late and dealt with their pervy landlord. But, spurred by hunger, she was not going to sit back while this guy delayed her meal and treated her store as a library.
