by E A Price
“Yes, I’m about to leave.”
Olive gave her one last wave as she and her mate left together, their arms wrapped around one another and huge smiles on their faces. Sky envied them and wondered what it would be like to have a male look at her like she was the most important person on earth.
Course, Erik had to ruin her daydreams. He snorted – loudly and obnoxiously.
“Was that one of your students?”
“That’s Olive, and yes, she’s been taking my class for a couple of months now. She's toning up for her mating ceremony.”
Olive had tried to explain the intricacies of a beaver mating ceremony, which involved a lot of swimming and some damn building to prove the couple were ready to have kits, but she got lost around about the second damn building and why their families had to bring old pieces of furniture to the ceremony. They needed something to gnaw on maybe?
“She’s wasting your time,” sneered Erik.
“Excuse me?”
“Look at her – she’s a blob. Yoga’s not going to help that. She needs to get her stomach stapled.”
Her animal stomped furiously. Not worth it, she thought even as her beast chuffed at his rudeness. “I think she looks very well as she is.”
Erik gave her a scornful look. “Her ass is enormous.”
Sky pursed her lips as her animal scraped her hoof across the ground. “No, it’s round and curvy and suits her. Women come in all shapes and sizes and lots of men like curvy women.” Before Sky grew to accept her own body, she wouldn’t have minded a few more curves.
“Lots of men think it’s okay to step out of the house with thinning hair and beer guts. Lots of men are idiots.” Apparently, he was as brutal on his own sex as he was on females.
“I don’t think they can help the thinning hair.” Although his comment about the hair did give rise to a few speculative glances at his own golden mane. Could that be a wig? Or at least hair plugs?
Erik’s upper lip curled in disgust. “I just find it gross that ugly people are allowed to mix with the beautiful ones – like us.”
“Perhaps they should be rounded up, and we could live in different parts of town,” she suggested in irritation. What an idiot!
His perfectly sculpted brows met in the middle, and he nodded slowly. “If only it were that easy.”
No sense of humor either. He really was a prize.
Sky pulled her backpack on. She wasn’t going to waste any time getting changed. Her yoga pants and vest were perfectly suitable to get her home. Knowing her luck, Erik would accidentally-on-purpose follow her into the locker rooms anyway.
“Well, I…”
“Me and some of the other trainers are going out for a drink. Come with us,” he said, just a bit too bossily for it to be a question.
“No, I can’t.”
He frowned. “Why not?” he demanded petulantly.
“I already have plans, but thank you for the kind offer.” Hell, she’d call up her dentist and demand a root canal if it meant getting her out of spending time with Erik.
“Humph.” He frowned and grumbled with all the grace of a three-year-old little boy who wasn’t getting any ice cream after dinner. “Another time?”
“Ummm hmmm.” The first Thursday after hell freezes over.
Erik bid her good night, slightly mollified, and as he made his pecs dance for her, she ran out of there before she really did crack up.
Sky made her way to the bus stop and rubbed her forehead. Erik certainly was a strange one. Maybe she should actually start making plans for her evenings, so she didn’t have to lie to him. Could she help it if she preferred staying in, meditating and then curling up with a good book? She wasn’t a big drinker. None of her friends were. She was sure there were a lot more useful things she could do with her time than hanging around a crowded bar watching men like Erik get drunk and aggressively hit on women who wanted nothing to do with them.
She pulled out her iPod and popped in some earbuds, losing herself in some Cyndi Lauper. She loved eighties music.
Her inner unicorn had almost calmed from the run-in with Erik when a shiver of alarm pulsed through her. She wasn’t a predator – nope she was a veggie eater through and through, but her senses were enhanced enough to sense someone watching her.
Casually, she stretched out her arms and pretended to yawn while scanning the area. Nothing. It was already dark, and she couldn’t make out anything unusual. Perhaps it was just Erik watching her from the gym. Course, he’d have to get up on the roof to spy on her – but then that wasn’t completely out of the way for him. He had clambered up there with binoculars when the women from the salon across the street had been tanning topless on their roof. They stopped doing it after someone made an anonymous phone call to the cops. He he he.
She glanced in that direction and spotted a glint from the roof. Binoculars again. Must be Erik. In spite of being totally creeped out by his behavior, she was kind of relieved. Better the pervert you know and all that.
Her beast snorted, not sure that was true.
Thankfully her bus was coming up the street, so she didn’t bother to dwell on it. And tomorrow was Tuesday and Erik was usually out all day topping up on the tanning beds. She’d have a nice quiet day. Plus, she had a tofu casserole and a new mystery novel waiting for her at home. Bliss.
*
Booker lowered the binoculars. He scratched his forehead, his fingers tracing the scar over his eyebrow. A constant reminder to never underestimate your target. It bothered him at the time, the smell of blood fresh under his nostrils, and he had gladly ripped out the throat of the shifter who did it, but he didn’t mind it now. Chicks dig scars.
He grabbed his cell phone and called Jones. “She’s on her way home. You have ten minutes to get out.”
He hung up and gracefully made his way down to the ground with ease. Booker was bulky and muscled, but as a gorilla shifter, he was an adept climber when he needed to be. He walked to the van, his feet not making a sound.
“Anything?” he grunted at Vargas
The jaguar shifter shook his head and pulled his headphones off. “Fucktard elk shifter made a pass at her; that was pretty funny.”
“The one with the cute haircut?”
“Yep.”
“Sorry I missed it.”
“Nothing else, though. She doesn’t act like a mythical beast. She’s just… normal.”
Booker and his beast snorted. “She recycles, doesn’t own a car and eats tofu for pleasure – I wouldn’t call any of those things normal.”
Vargas chuckled and pulled the headphones back on. They’d bugged just about every room in the gym, hoping to get something on Sky Danvers – either from herself or one of her friends. Jones should be finishing bugging her house right about now. If they were right about her species, this one would be a piece of cake, and he wanted it done quickly.
Vargas pulled the headphones off and almost had to wipe tears of laughter away.
“What?” Booker snapped impatiently.
“That fucking elk is in there beating off and calling Sky a whore. You should hear him.” Vargas raised his voice in imitation. “Yeah, bitch, you like that…”
“Dumb dickhead.”
Vargas flashed his fangs as an evil smile crept over his face. “Let’s trash his car and watch him freak out.”
Booker was going to smash Vargas in the mouth and tell him to grow the fuck up. But his gorilla perked up at the idea. He’d been so intent on his mission that he hadn’t had fun in a long time. “Sure why not.” Watching the elk throw a hissy fight would definitely be fun.
Chapter Five
“Mercy!” howled Zane, stomping out of his office into the waiting area.
His secretary was propped up on her desk, leaning on one hand, her mouth wide open and a pair of sunglasses covering her eyes.
“What?” she mumbled.
“Am I keeping you up?” he hissed
“Yes.”
“What do I
…”
He was about to ask, what do I pay you for, and then realized, he would need to pay her before he got away with that. Mercy knew it, too - judging by the way her eyebrows lifted over her sunglasses.
“Late night?” he asked gruffly.
“I covered Cookie’s shift at The Magic Room. She had to take her boyfriend to the ER, and I needed the money.”
“What happened to her boyfriend?” Perhaps something he could help with?
“He got punched in the face and kicked in the groin – hard.”
“He need help tracking down who did it?”
“Nah – it was Cookie.”
“Oh.”
“Serves him right for fooling around with her sister.”
“Good of her to take him to the ER.” He thought of the six-foot-two Cookie – a black bear shifter with a fetish for knives – and considered her boyfriend was lucky he wasn’t in the morgue.
“That’s what I said. Did you need me?”
“Huh?”
“You bellowed my name.”
“Oh, ah…” He opened his fist over her desk, and the remnants of a set of coloring pencils cascaded over the empty files she kept there to make it look like they actually had clients.
Mercy sighed and opened the bottom drawer to her desk, pulled out a new set and tossed it at him. “Do you need a new book too?”
“Maybe,” he muttered. The new book was thrown at him as well. His bear sounded like he was snickering.
Mercy took off her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes. “I know adult coloring books are fashionable at the moment. But have you considered that maybe they aren’t for you?” She leaned to one side to see all the balled up pieces of paper littering the floor of his office.
“They’re supposed to help you relax,” he ground out through gritted teeth.
“Yes, they are supposed to help with stress – not cause it.”
Yep, he’d moved onto coloring books. The fish – as pretty as they were – were not helping. Although thankfully Mercy had taken it upon herself to look after them - he kept forgetting. Poor little suckers would be floating upside down already if it weren’t for her.
He huffed and went back to his office, slamming the door behind him. Not his fault if the stupid pencils would not stay in the lines. He remembered doing this as a kid, but he had to say, he didn’t remember it being this hard or tedious. Maybe he ought to try something else – this didn’t appear to be working. How about roaring at the pimple-faced coffee shop guy who was too busy flirting to get your order right suggested his bear. Little shit deserved a good scare.
Zane ignored him, and with his tongue clenched between his teeth, he managed to color a very intricate part of the butterfly picture before the buzzer on the intercom sounded, sending a smear of red across the page.
“Hell. Damn. Crap!” he snarled and tore the page out of the book, screwing it up and hurling it across the room.
“What?” he snapped into the intercom.
“Somebody’s here to see you,” hissed Mercy.
“Ah, show them in.”
Mercy with a look of disapproval led in an elderly wombat shifter, trembling slightly, probably from Zane’s roars. He snapped at his bear to calm the hell down and behave - they couldn’t afford to lose a potential client.
Zane cleared his throat and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. He introduced himself, and she told him, in a small voice, her name was Mrs. Dodi Demeter.
“Can we get you a drink?” He nodded at Mercy.
“How’s your coffee?” she asked, eyes perking up in interest.
Mercy smiled. “I get it from the coffee shop two doors down, so it’s pretty great.”
They had to - ever since Zane broke their machine. Hey, those tiny cups aren’t as easy to use as they look. Who knew the lever would snap off so easily? At the time he was shifted to his bear and the lever was in his jaws, but nonetheless, he was still intending on complaining to the company that makes them.
“A latte, if it’s no trouble,” said Mrs. Demeter.
“My usual,” rumbled Zane.
“Which is?” asked Mercy sweetly.
He tapped his finger on the desk. Every freaking time. “You know what that is.”
Mercy laughed musically, and Mrs. Demeter relaxed slightly.
Zane didn’t make people feel at ease. He held a tension within his own body that came from trying to control a bear that didn’t like being controlled. People – especially shifters – could sense his turmoil and it made them uneasy. But Mercy, without being touchy-feely – because she hated that crap – could always pacify people. Even through her teasing and sarcasm, she made people feel good - something to do with her being a dove no doubt. Bird of peace and all that. It was one of the reasons Mercy was worth her weight in gold.
Mercy swished out the office on her four-inch heels, and Zane tried to arrange his face into a bland look, which came across as more of a scowl. He was one of nature’s scowlers.
“How can I help?”
“I’m probably being silly…” she started and then chewed on her lip.
“Just tell me.”
“The SEA said it was low priority…” She paused, and Zane felt his foot tapping as he waited for her to continue. She didn’t, and his bear paced impatiently. Spill it he roared.
“Nothing is low priority around here,” said Zane encouragingly.
“They said they’d look into it but…”
“Just tell me!” snapped Zane, immediately followed by some placating apologies.
His outburst worked, though. Seconds later…
“My underwear keeps going missing from my clothes line,” she blurted and then blushed furiously.
Zane took a moment to compose himself as his bear bellowed with laughter.
He took out a pad and a pen. “So,” he said calmly and immensely proud of himself, “theft?”
A grateful look flashed over her features. “Yes.”
“And when did this start Mrs. Demeter?”
“Please call me Dodi. About a month ago. It’s not technically my underwear. Well, one piece was… I take in laundry for most of the people in the neighborhood – those who don’t have time to do it themselves. They don’t pay much – usually, they pay me with something they’ve cooked, or grown or they fix my husband’s car. We’re not exactly rich, but we get by. My husband works at the snowglobe factory. Here.”
She pulled a small globe out of her pocket and thrust it at him. It depicted a beach and numerous species of animals sunbathing. Around the edge it said, Los Lobos – Take a Sunbathe on the Wild Side.
“My husband thought up that slogan,” she told him proudly.
“Hmm.” He placed it on his desk. “So what happened?”
“I always put the more delicate items out on a line, rather than using a dryer. At first, it was just a thong. I thought I’d lost it, and I just apologized to Shira – she’s a tiger shifter and a bit of a nymphomaniac if you ask me, if all the men going in and out of her house are anything to go by. Shira said it was fine, that she has plenty others. Anyway, the next thing was this pretty turquoise bra that belongs to Hettie, who lives across from me. She’s got seven kids and two more on the way because her mate is horny all the time and she says he just won’t go to sleep at night, plus he doesn’t like condoms, and she doesn’t like other birth control. Lucky for Hettie he only has eyes for her, because he is one handsome devil and I bet dollars to donuts that Shira wouldn’t kick him out of bed. But then Shira wouldn’t kick anyone out of bed. You know she once…”
Zane held up his hand; a strange, angry buzz started sounding in his head. “Let’s stick to the facts.”
“It’s a fact that she once tied a pizza delivery boy to her bed and left him there for two hours while she went grocery shopping.” Dodi clucked her tongue.
The flimsy pen in his hand split in two, and he grabbed a spare – from his huge stash – out of his drawer. “About the thefts.”
“Turquoise bra?”
“Oh, yes, well Hettie was devastated. She can’t afford sexy underwear, and that was the only thing she had. She was really upset, although she did tell me that her mate prefers her naked so…” She coughed on seeing Zane’s irritated glare. “Right, okay, after that a few more things started going missing, and I knew it couldn’t be me making all these mistakes – someone is stealing them off my line. It might not seem like much, but people depend on me for their washing, and I depend on the favors they do me in return. It’s embarrassing – soon the whole neighborhood won’t have any underwear! The SEA won’t do anything about it – they don’t think it’s worth their time.”
Zane had to agree with them – with murderers and rapists running around the city, a few lost pairs of panties were nothing. But work was work – no matter what his haughty bear thought. However, there was the matter of payment.
“Mrs. Demeter… Dodi, I don’t work for free.”
She bit her lip and gave him a sad look. Unfortunately, it reminded him of his mother – the queen of emotional blackmail.
“I can’t exactly pay you money.”
“Exactly?”
“I can’t pay you money at all. But, I have a proposition for you…”
Lord, he hoped it didn’t involve sexual favors – he got enough of those offers from his landlady. Dodi seemed like a sweet enough old lady, but she was older than his mom, and he feared he would strangle her if she started gossiping at him again.
“My husband’s boss is looking for a private investigator for another matter, and I could ask him to recommend you. And I would do your laundry for a month and bake you two, no, three pies.”
He was all set to say no, but his bear halted at the word pies. Every bear had his weakness – and for just about every bear, it was pie. Baked or the female kind – they were both good. “What kind of pie?”
“What kind would you like?”
“Peach and raspberry.” No brainer. Sweet and tart.
“Done.”
“Deal. But – this is contingent on me getting a job from your husband’s boss.”
