by A. C. Arthur
“Your father? What?”
On the small table by the door the phone rang. Baxter stood quietly and answered in a hushed tone. “Mr. Roman. It is Ezra, sir.”
Ezra?
Kalina?
Rome rushed to the phone. With all eyes on him, questions looming in the minds of his two best friends, he answered. “What is it?”
“Some guy just went into her apartment. He stinks like a shifter but I’m sure he’s human. I’ve seen him before hanging around outside, but he just went in about five minutes ago. She’s in there with him alone.”
Not for long, Rome thought as he headed out of the room.
Chapter 20
Today was a day for revelations, Kalina thought as she slipped into black slacks. The gray silk blouse she wore fit her bodice like an alluring glove. The outfit was complete with three-and-a-half-inch black mules that gave just the amount of casual she aimed for tonight.
Technically, this was her first date with Roman Reynolds. Most likely the reason for the dancing butterflies in the pit of her stomach. All day long she’d managed not to think about the seriousness of this next step she was taking. The other things she was doing were good at keeping her mind off the man.
Dorian Wilson was the DEA agent in charge of this case. Kalina had called him twice today from her desk. When she hadn’t reached him, she’d taken a chance and sent him an email. It was imperative she speak to him about this case, and she wanted to do so in person. That would be the only way she could get a true sense for what was going through the man’s mind. She was willing to bet every penny she had in her savings that this case wasn’t what they’d represented to her three weeks ago.
Ferrell had been texting her all day but she’d ignored him. He was an asshole and talking to him wasn’t going to garner the information she wanted. She suspected he was just a cover for what was really going on and she was going to find out whether the MPD or the DEA wanted her to or not.
As a last-ditch effort that in her gut she knew was going to prove futile, she’d scanned all the financial records on the firm’s database for the name Raul Cortez. Nothing. None of the wire transfers sent to Brazil had gone to the known cartel boss. Relief had washed through her at that knowledge while in the back of her mind the thought that the information could be on Rome’s home computer nagged.
He wasn’t a drug dealer, she told herself. He was just a man. A man with an enigmatic personality that had drawn her in instantly. A man with just the barest hint of sadness in his dark eyes. He had a past, just as she did. His life had been rough, just like hers. That was their connection, the link that had unwittingly drawn them together.
It wasn’t this case. Kalina had to believe that. She had to believe that there was more between her and Rome than a case that was going to fall apart any minute now. Wanted desperately to believe there was more.
Did that make her an idiot? Probably. Did she care? Hell no. She’d waited a lifetime to feel what she did when she was with him. The intensity of their … what? Was it love? He hadn’t said the word and neither had she. Could that be what she was feeling as her mind wrapped around thoughts of him and her body trembled in anticipation of his touch?
Insistent knocking at her door interrupted her thoughts. She looked down at her watch: It was half an hour before she expected Rome. Maybe he was as anxious as she was to get this date started. With one last look in the mirror she smoothed the sides of her hair, toyed with the longer tendrils at the top, and wondered briefly about letting it grow out to a softer, more feminine style.
As she made it through the threshold of her bedroom into the tiny hallway leading to the living room, an uneasy feeling replaced the happy little butterflies that had been mingling in the pit of her stomach a moment ago. Dread and apprehension swamped her with each step she took. The knocking at the door was loud thumping that almost sounded like it would splinter the wood.
It wasn’t Rome.
The feeling she had was different. Whoever was on the other side of the door was bringing a shitload of tension and anger with him. Pausing at the table where her keys and her purse rested, Kalina slid the small drawer open and retrieved her gun, slipping it into the back band of her pants before approaching the door. She thought about asking who it was but figured the odds were slim she’d get the truth. Her gut said whoever this was wasn’t here to wish her a happy evening.
So when she pulled the door open and saw Ferrell standing there she wasn’t as surprised as she probably should have been. He pushed past her, moving quickly into her apartment.
“We need to talk,” he said, moving to the window and looking out before turning to face her.
“Well, hello to you, too,” she snapped, closing the door and turning to face him with all the agitation she was feeling at the way he’d knocked on her door and the fact that he was here at her home at all.
“Where are you with Reynolds? Did you get anything from his place last night?”
Kalina was about to answer him, about to share the information about the Cortez Cartel, when she paused, tilted her head, and stared at Ferrell a little closer. He wore wrinkled khakis and an even more wrinkled white buttondown shirt with huge sweat rings beneath his arms. His forehead was beaded with moisture, his lips still so cracked she thought she could feel their pain.
“What the hell is wrong with you? And how did you know where I was last night?” she asked.
“You!” he yelled pointing a shaking finger in her direction. “You do not question me! I’m your superior! You answer my questions! Now, what did you find out?”
He was out of his damn mind, that’s what he was. As much as Kalina wanted a promotion, she was sick and tired of his verbal abuse. She’d been taught, even if it was by her temporary parents, that to get respect you had to give it. Ferrell hadn’t respected her from day one. And if she had to file a complaint against him she would, but she’d be damned if he was going to come into her home yelling like he’d lost the last bit of mind he had.
“You’ll have my report soon,” she said, keeping her eyes on the man because there was something about him that just wasn’t right. Uneasiness swamped her and even though she stood perfectly still, inside she felt like she was pacing, watching, waiting for the right moment to …
“I want your report now! You tell me what you know about that animal before I…” His voice trailed off as he looked back, out the window again.
Kalina tried to look over his shoulder but all she could see was the crimson coloring of the fading afternoon. She could hear cars going by, but she wasn’t close enough to the window to see if one had stopped outside, or was waiting for him, or what.
“Maybe we should call Wilson,” she suggested, already reaching into her purse for her cell phone. This was the last straw; she had no intention of dealing with Ferrell and his unstable ass anymore. If that meant she was off the case, then so be it.
Kalina would have never given Ferrell credit for being alert enough to move so fast, but as her back slammed against the wall, his fingers gripping her wrist so tight she dropped her cell phone to the floor, she’d had second thoughts.
“You tell me what’s going on right now! You fucked him, I know that much,” he said before doing the most disgusting thing she could ever imagine: He lowered his head, sniffing down her neck, to the rim of her blouse just above her breasts. “Yeah, you fucked that animal. You let him touch you all over so now you stink just like him! Like them!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” The words came from her trembling lips because as Ferrell held her in his tight grasp Kalina battled with flashbacks of a night long ago. A night when she’d been grabbed just like this and thrown to the ground. When her clothes had been ripped from her and her body touched by vicious, vile hands she wished now she could cut off with a blunt-edged knife.
“Don’t you lie to me, bitch! Don’t you dare lie to me!”
His eyes were glazed as more sweat poured from his brow. He smelled awfu
l and he was the one sniffing her. Her stomach roiled and she thought she was going to be sick. But the roiling continued, pushing at her as if begging her to do something, anything.
Ferrell’s hands went to her neck. Instinctively she grabbed at his wrists, hoping to stop him before he could tighten his grip, but it was too late. He’d started choking her, all the while yelling in her face.
Her vision was getting blurry as she tried to lift a knee to his groin. The gun was at her back, she could reach for it, but her hands fought frantically at the hands squeezing the breath from her. He moved and yelled louder, choked her harder. She wanted to claw at him, to smack his hands away from her throat, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t think past wanting to breathe.
But she could see.
And it was familiar eyes that appeared in her line of sight.
It was the eyes of the beast that had been in the alley with her that night.
* * *
Rome had been furious when he’d left his house. Angry at himself for blowing up at the three men who were the closest to him, who had stuck by him all his life. He felt trapped in a situation he didn’t know everything about yet and struggled to control. Panic gripped him as he drove through the city. He hadn’t waited to see if Nick or X had followed him but he suspected one or both probably had.
Ezra had gone upstairs the moment he hung up with Rome and only heard voices as if they were simply talking, so he didn’t go in. Instead he stood guard at the end of the hallway waiting until Rome arrived.
Kalina.
Her name was a litany in Rome’s mind.
Who was she? What did she really want from him? And could he really handle the answers to those questions?
A cop. He would have never imagined it, but that was probably because he couldn’t see past the woman. The female who had enamored him from the first night he’d seen her. It wasn’t a mistake, he knew instinctively. Meeting her two years ago wasn’t a mistake and even though he hated to lend credence to it, he feared it was the destiny his mother had spoken of so frequently.
But if Kalina was his destiny, how would he deal with her connection to law enforcement, to the reason she was at his law firm in the first place?
Wasn’t one traitor in his heart enough?
Jumping out of his car after he’d barely parked it in front of her house, he gave Ezra the signal to move in slowly, giving him a few minutes to get inside first. Then he took the steps to her apartment two at a time, trying to calm the rage simmering inside, the cat stalking just below the surface.
Who was she in there with? What were they doing? He’d kill any man who touched her, the thought casting darkness over his mind as his fingers flexed at his sides, willing his claws not to emerge. The cat wanted to break free, to burst through that door and …
She screamed and the sound pierced through the closed door, vibrating down the halls to echo in Rome’s ears. His claws broke free at that moment, his cat roaring even as he lifted his foot and kicked down the door of her apartment. Through the mere slits of his eyes he saw the man with his hands on her, heard her screams and smelled her fear.
Just like before.
The animal in him strained to rip free, to clamp down on the man’s neck until the cracking of his vertebrae signaled his death. Instead the warring human half of him reached out with clawed fingers, grabbing the man by his shoulder and lifting him off the ground with his animalistic strength.
Kalina fell to the floor gasping for breath as Rome stared down the man stupid enough to put his hands on her.
“Who…,” the man stammered then stared at Rome. “Fuck me! You’re one of them. I knew it. I fucking knew it!” He was scrambling for the door, falling over something on the floor.
Rome hurried over, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt until his feet dangled in the air.
“You come near her again and I … will … kill … you.”
“Get off me, you freak! Get the hell off me!”
“Gladly,” Rome growled, tossing him the rest of the way to the door, knocking over a sofa table and all its contents at the same time.
The man hurriedly picked himself up off the floor this time, not daring to look back before running out the door.
Rome turned to Kalina then, fell to his knees, and reached out to touch her. He saw his claws and was about to pull them back when she reached out and grabbed his hands.
“What … who…,” she stuttered then dropped his hands and looked right into his eyes. “It’s you.” Her breaths were coming fast, her chest heaving as she looked from his hands to his face, her gaze imploring, questioning, knowing.
“From my dreams,” she whispered. “You’re the beast.”
Chapter 21
If she’d said she had a contagious disease he probably wouldn’t have jumped up as fast, turning his back on her.
Kalina’s hands were shaking as she planted her palms on the floor then heaved herself up. Her place was a wreck but she really wasn’t caring too much about that at the moment. With slow steps, keeping her eyes on his back, she reached behind her, slipping the gun from her pants. Removing the safety, she lifted it to him.
“Turn around,” she said slowly.
His broad shoulders looked somehow broader. He seemed larger, like he was too big to be in this apartment with all this furniture, and her. He breathed in and out, slowly. Other than that he didn’t move.
“I said turn around,” she said in her best cop voice while trying to keep her hands from shaking.
“Now is not the time.” He spoke in a low gruff voice.
It didn’t sound like him. Like Rome. But then was he really Roman Reynolds or someone … something else?
“Now’s the only time. Turn around so I can see you.” She swallowed hard. “So I can see what you really are. Because I know it’s not—”
He turned slowly and her words died in her throat. He looked … looked like Rome. His forehead was furrowed like he was extremely pissed off. But outside of that everything else looked—normal. He still wore the dark slacks and white dress shirt she’d seen him in earlier.
Her gaze instantly focused on his hands. She’d seen them, claws that ripped through the skin of his fingers. But they were gone. His hands looked normal with blunt-tipped nails and a gold watch at his wrist. Nothing abnormal, strange, unnatural.
But his eyes.
They weren’t right. Not the color and not the shape.
“You were there, weren’t you? Two years ago, it was you.” The accusation sounded damn crazy to her own ears, but deep inside she felt there was some truth to it. There had to be. Part of her trembled but another part pushed to stand tall, to stay focused.
“Tell me the truth,” she said, lifting the gun a little higher to aim right between his eyes. “Open your mouth and tell me who and what the hell you are or I swear I’m shooting your ass where you stand.”
He didn’t flinch or falter, but spoke in a calm rugged voice. “Grab some things and let’s go. You can’t stay here anymore.”
She blinked. Had she heard him correctly? She was the one holding the gun but he was giving the orders.
“This is the last chance for questions and answers. In a minute I’m shooting and I shoot to kill.”
He took a step toward her. “You won’t kill me.”
Kalina widened her stance, flexed her finger on the trigger. “You wanna bet?”
He continued walking toward her, lifting a hand to grab her wrist. “You. Won’t. Shoot. Me.”
His grip wasn’t tight, even though she was positive he had the strength to squeeze the blood through her fingertips. But he didn’t; his fingers just barely grazed her skin. She should have pulled the trigger, should have shot a hole right through his chest. But she couldn’t. It was the unknown that held her still. The unknown that should be scaring the hell out of her, but had her dangerously curious instead.
“Put the gun down and pack some things. I’ll answer your questions but we have to get ou
t of here.”
“I’m not leaving my apartment,” she said, lowering the gun, taking her hand off the trigger, but leaving the safety off. Just in case.
“You don’t have a choice. It’s not safe.”
“You don’t tell me what to do.” It didn’t sound too convincing, but that could have been because she was still entranced by his eyes. They weren’t Rome’s normal brown color, but a vibrant green, like a slice in the center of dark orbs. He blinked and they didn’t change. Something inside her moved—it was as if it turned over and stretched—and she wanted to touch him. At her sides her fingers wiggled with the urge.
“What are you?” she asked again.
“Here’s the deal,” he said, stepping closer, so close that when she inhaled his scent filled her nostrils. Not a cologne scent but something wild, untamed, enticing.
“I’ll answer that question if you agree to get your things and come with me.” He closed his eyes and looked as if he was enduring something immensely painful. She did lift her hand then, touched her fingertips to the line of his jaw.
It was hard, strong. She touched his chin, his nose, brushed her fingers softly over his closed lids. It all felt normal, but not. Heat speared through her body, starting at the pad of her fingers where she touched him, spinning a wicked web throughout her veins until she felt nothing but hunger. Need.
She pulled her hand away and swallowed again. “Answer me.”
“They call us Shadow Shifters.”
She’d turned her head from him and was staring down at the floor, because she was trying to decipher what was going on in her own body.
It was his turn to touch. His fingers lifting her chin, turning her back to face him.
“I am a shape shifter, Kalina. I can shift into—”
She backed out of his grasp, her breath coming in heavy pants. “A cat? You turn into a big black cat with weird green eyes.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. He nodded in agreement.
“Shit!” She looked down to see where she’d dropped her gun. “Oh my, shit … dammit, dammit.” When she bent down to get it he was there, his hands encircling her wrists.
