Westmore Wolves Series: Shapesifter Collection Bks 1-5

by Erzabet Bishop

  Chapter Two

  “Damn it.” Detective Natalia Adams sat in the driver’s seat of her car and watched the circus play out in front of her. Uniformed officers blocked off the parking lot from curious onlookers and white suited crime scene analysts combed the grounds.

  She was still shaken from the day before. How had she not known Cage was at Inferno, even after all these years? Her jaw tight, she berated herself for thinking he would have gone anywhere else. After pulling up some information on the current owners, it didn’t take much digging to find out he’d ousted the moron who’d owned it before, laying full claim to the place.

  Good.

  While it seemed professional, it was nice to know the inner workings of the club were being handled by someone like Cage. His expression when he scooped her up after the attack had never left her. The anguish and pity were too much to bear.

  She hadn’t been to a BDSM club without her persona in place in the seven years since she’d been carted out by ambulance. And being in this dump didn’t excite her in the least. Red hair or not, being without a mask made her nervous as hell. Even with a gun. Her cat paced within her, ears laid back against her head, tail swishing.

  Natalia clutched her Styrofoam cup of cold coffee like it was a lifeline, staring out at the scene in front of her. She took a sip and winced, shifting in her seat.

  “What?” Her partner Abel Holt cocked an eyebrow. “Are we getting out, or would you prefer to detect whatever needs detecting from the car?”

  She barked out a laugh, despite the nerves twisting her stomach. “God, Holt.”

  Her partner for the last year since she’d joined the sex crimes unit, he understood when to prod her and when to keep his mouth shut. His eyes narrowed, and he rubbed a hand over his chin. “That’s what I thought.”

  The latest in a string of murders that made her blood run cold, she didn’t want to see what the asshole had come up with this time. His face had been burned into her brain. Her cat growled low inside of her, pacing.

  I know, girl.

  She was going to have to go for a run after this. Feel the cool earth under the pads of her feet and just forget what it was to be human. If anything good had come out of this at all, it was the fact that she was never alone. Her animal was always with her, even if she was sassy and opinionated as hell.

  Each of the victims had been a woman in the BDSM scene, and she’d been hoping to stay as far from the situation as possible. She’d been on a surveillance detail for her current sex crimes case, involving a human trafficking ring rumored to be operating out of a massage parlor downtown. After working the surrounding area for a week, it was more than a huge pain in the ass when her phone rang and she got invited into the Captain’s office for a sit down. Not invited. Ordered.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity fuck.

  “I think you know why I’ve called you in here, Adams.” Captain Dakin stared across a desk filled with paperwork and crime scene photos.

  “No, sir. I really don’t.”

  He arched an eyebrow at her comment but continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “You have a high arrest record, and I’ve been watching your work with the unit. It’s impressive.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  She couldn’t abide sexual predators and she never let go once she was on a case. Not until the suspect was in her proverbial jaws and she got to shake him by the neck like the cowardly vermin he was.

  “I’ve also read your file, and I know you’ve seen one of the local shrinks for PTSD. I also know you were a victim of an assault yourself.”

  Well. Here we go.

  Her fingers dug into the faux leather. She tried to focus on what he was saying, but her gaze kept turning toward the whiteboard. Seven women’s pictures hung there with a blank eighth space labeled Jane Doe and a date that resonated in her mind like a sonic boom. It was the day she was attacked seven years ago. All of them were. Except for today.

  Shock snapped her attention back to the Captain. “That’s confidential.”

  “Nothing’s confidential when it comes to my officers, Detective.”

  Natalia crossed her arms and slid her gaze away. It was none of his business. Her personal life was just that. Personal. In a world full of double standards and old boy networks, a girl had to have boundaries or they just walked all over you. Especially with this. It was her darkest hour, and that’s where it needed to stay. Let her anger fuel her cases. It worked. And after hours? Well, that’s what Mistress Elle was for. Everything neat and tidy. Compartments.

  Mucking around in her inner psyche just made trouble. Shine a flashlight too far into the shadows, and you got a girl who couldn’t function. She would never be that again. She’d worked too damn hard. Her cat wouldn’t let her.

  “Look at me, detective.”

  Natalia swiveled her eyes toward her boss, helplessness and rage simmering into a boil. Her lips pressed into a fine line. She’d been with the unit for a year now and kept to herself. She did her job and a damned fine one at that. Now he was looking into her file? Why?

  “I need you and Holt to go in there and check out the new crime scene on the Bondage Ripper case. Wyatt and Carling don’t know a thing about what it is...” He glanced down at his notes and waved his hand. “This BDSM lifestyle or whatever.”

  No shit.

  “What is it you’d like me to do?” Her cool response spoke of years of putting her emotions on hold but the turbulence in her belly wasn’t cooperating quite as well.

  The Captain sat forward in his chair and considered her. “I want you to find out who’s doing this and nail the fucker to the wall.” He reached down on the desk and held up a glossy picture.

  Natalia gazed in horror at the photograph dangling from the Captain’s grip. The woman hung from a St. Andrew’s cross, bloody welts and cuts covering her back, buttocks, and legs. Her head lolled to the side, the once beautiful, brown hair dark and congealed with blood. She took the picture, hands shaking. She might have been looking at herself seven years ago.

  “Hold still, bitch. I’m not done with you yet…”

  His voice whispered to her through the past, and she wrapped her arms around herself to stave off the chill. The mantra her therapist had drummed into her raced through her mind. She latched on, repeating it over and over until her breathing returned to normal. For her to black out or lose control in the Captain’s office—hmmm. Not a good plan. It was hard enough that she was one of the only shifters on the force. She couldn’t afford to show weakness and succumbing to this asshole’s legacy was number one on her list.

  I am a tree and my roots grow deep into the earth

  Nothing can shake me

  My feet hold me firm and I take my energy from the earth

  Nothing can harm me.

  “You know.” Her voice was thick. She heard it, and she didn’t care.

  “I do.”

  “How?”

  His eyes were kind when she glanced up. “I told you, Detective. There are no secrets here. It came up when I did a search for related crimes searching the back database.”

  “Who else?” A spike of adrenaline shot through her. God. That was all she needed. Tampon jokes were bad enough. Now she’d have to deal with even worse if this got out.

  “No one else knows. I redacted the file and replaced it.”

  “You can do that?”

  “No,” he cleared his throat and looked away. “I can’t, but I did. There were some awful things done to you but I also know this: you don’t stop when you start a case. If this one feels personal, it is.”

  Natalia shivered. So personal she couldn’t believe it. “I’ve been following it a little. How many now?”

  “This would be number seven. All of them submissives. All of them brown hair, brown eyes.”

  “Like me.” Correction. Like she had been.

  They’d never found the bastard. He’d apparently been thrown out on his ass and that was it. Until the police report they took at the hospi
tal when they did the rape kit. The people at the club didn’t even get his real name. He might as well have been a ghost. She eyed the scars on her wrists from where the straps cut into her flesh. The rest of her body bore similar flaws. But the worst thing? He’d taken something from her that she could never replace.

  Cage.

  When she’d woken up in the hospital, she didn’t want him to see her. At first, it was because she blamed him for letting her fall prey to her nameless attacker. Then, as the years went on and she went through therapy, she understood what it really was. She didn’t want him to witness her ruined body. She was scarred inside and out, and she couldn’t bear to see the pity in his eyes. He was there in her dreams. It would have to be enough. She didn’t need that part of her life anymore. At least, that’s what she told herself. But she’d always regretted running away and not speaking with Cage.

  She’d always heard the myth that being a shifter would smooth away scars and she’d be able to heal the brands he’d left in her flesh. That had been the biggest lie of all.

  So, she’d made up her mind never to be weak again. To take back control of her life one piece at a time. Therapy led to an awakening that she wanted to be a cop. She could catch bastards like the one who had hurt her. The Sex Crimes unit was the logical choice. Now, here she was, the case she’d been dreaming of staring her in the face.

  It had to be him. God.

  Captain Dakin met her gaze. “Are you up for it? ’Cause if you’re not, I’ll let Wyatt and Carling keep tripping down the rabbit hole. They don’t know what they’re doing, and I need someone who understands the ins and outs of this world to make a difference.”

  “What if it’s him?” She let the photograph flutter back onto the desk where it joined other images so profane it hurt to look for long.

  “What do you remember?”

  Natalia swallowed. “Everything.”

  Chapter Three

  “Hello? Earth to Natalia…” Holt tapped the glass of the driver’s side door, and she almost wet her pants. Coming back to the present from her thoughts was more than a little jarring and she had to struggle to keep her cat in check.

  Shifting on the job was the last thing she needed right about now.

  “Dammit, Holt! You’re going to give me a heart attack.” The panicked beating of her heart slowly subsided to a more natural rhythm, and she flung open the car door. As she did, the Texas air sucked out the air conditioning and replaced it with a swampy humid mess. Lost in her memories, she didn’t even hear him get out of the car.

  “Missed.”

  “I won’t next time.”

  “Got you off your butt, didn’t I?”

  Natalia blinked. He did. She’d forgotten her discomfort in her moment of anger. “Yeah. Wow.”

  She thought she’d learned more control than that, but apparently this case was already pressing some of her buttons. Hell, she hadn’t even gotten inside the building yet.

  “God, you’re easy. Come on. Let’s go see what has the captain’s knickers in a twist, shall we?” He gave her a wink, his hazel eyes sparkling in the mid-afternoon sun. His bald head and café au lait complexion were no nonsense until you looked down. Her partner had a penchant for loud Hawaiian shirts that always made her grin.

  Her phone went off, a text flashing across her screen.

  There will be a psychologist on site. Dr. Ryder Jamison. I want you to liaison with him.

  “He sent a shrink?”

  Was it for the scene or for her? Bastard.

  “What?” Holt stopped, his look searching.

  She wasn’t going to give him anything either. “Cap is up to no good again.”

  “Let me see.” Holt took the phone and whistled. “Are you going to tell me why?”

  “No.” Natalia snatched the phone from his hands and stuffed it into the holster at her waist. Right next to her gun. Two seconds in and she’d already forgotten she was the one on the other side of the fence this time. The one with the power. Natalia took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Let’s go.”

  The gravel in the parking lot crunched underneath her boots, and Natalia smoothed her hands down her jeans. Tugging the suit jacket down, she felt the familiar weight of her gun beneath it and kept walking.

  Holt held the tape up for her, and she ducked beneath it, swinging right into the middle of the fray. Uniformed cops walked the club floor, poking fun at the accoutrements hanging on the wall. Wyatt and Carling were up ahead talking to some of what looked like regular club-goers. The man wore leathers and the woman a corset and a barely-there thong with heels. No doubt their adventuresome evening had ended much differently from what they’d originally planned.

  In the light of day, the club looked tired and worn. She glanced up at the moniker on the wall and clucked her tongue on the upper roof of her mouth. Shambles. Not even the name of the club sounded appealing. Her nerves were on edge, and she pressed them down. With every step, she came closer and closer to confronting a demon seven years in the making.

  “Excuse me. Are you Detective Adams?” A man stepped into her path, and Natalia nearly ran into him. Longish, dark hair swept around his chiseled features and full lips. A white, button-down, long-sleeved shirt strained against the muscular form beneath and was tucked into a very docile looking pair of khaki slacks. Brown shoes completed the outfit, and Natalia had to smile for the contrast of his attire and the environment they were in.

  “I am.”

  “Oh. You must be the shrink.” Holt eyed the newcomer with thinly veiled distain. “Are you here for the crime scene or my partner?”

  “Holt!” Natalia’s eyes opened wide, and her teeth ground together. “Why don’t you go talk to Wyatt and Carling. I’ll be over in a second.”

  “You sure?” The question seemed casual, but she could read the concern brewing behind his gaze.

  “Yes. Go ahead. I’ll be fine.” She sucked in a breath and turned back to the stranger. “I’m sorry. My captain just informed me you would be here.”

  “Dr. Ryder Jamison. I hope I can help.” His warm brown eyes simmered with kindness, and she wanted to fall inside of their somehow familiar depths.

  Why did it seem like she’d met him before?

  His gaze trailed over her, and a warm sensation pooled low in her stomach. God. Of all the times for her to go all girly, this was not it.

  “Have we met?”

  “I think I’d remember you, Detective. So no. I don’t believe we have.” But even as he said it, she could see the lie in his words. He was hiding something. For a moment, she considered responding but decided against it. She would confront him later when they weren’t surrounded by death and about a thousand cops of all flavors.

  “What exactly are you here to help with?”

  He cleared his throat. “Your captain informed me that you might require some assistance on the case. I’m considered an expert in these types of crimes.”

  “So, you’ve helped with the previous crime scenes?”

  “Yes.” His answer was clipped, and his gaze traveled somewhere else for a moment, no doubt revisiting the horrors she’d only glanced at in photographs. “Seven years. We’ve been trying to find the murderer, and finally it seems we have a common denominator.”

  “What?”

  “You.”

  She swallowed.

  “Are you part of the community, Doctor?”

  He met her eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yes, Detective. I am.”

  She nodded, unsure how to respond. “So, he didn’t tell you exactly why I’ve been called to the scene then?” Natalia didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed at her boss but at the moment she didn’t care. Like it or not, Jamison had hit the nail on the head. She was the common denominator, and it made her sick.

  “Only that you had experience in this area as well but would need my particular type of assistance.” His gaze slid away, focusing instead on the spanking bench in the distance. />
  Another lie. She could smell it on him. Well. Now, that was interesting.

  “Let’s walk.”

  “As you wish.” He held out his arm and she passed him, winding her way through the landscape of tables and chairs and finally into the more intimate areas. She made her way forward but couldn’t shake the sensation of his gaze moving over her body. It should have creeped her out, but strangely enough she felt comfortable for the first time since she’d entered the club.

  The floor was much like other clubs: a spanking bench, then a space for exhibition. A series of hallways branched off, and techs lingered at the entrance to one cluster fuck of a crime scene.

  “We go in here.” She snagged a pair of booties and handed him a set.

  They’d taken two steps and were stopped by a uniformed officer. Natalia flashed her badge and was allowed clearance, but Dr. Jamison was stopped.

  “He’s with me.”

  “It’s not authorized.”

  “It is now. Unless you want to argue about it with Dakin, I’d let the man pass.” Her eyes narrowed, the lynx sharing a glimpse of her beast, and she raised her chin, daring him to continue to challenge her.

  “Fine. Don’t puke on the corpse.” He turned his back and resumed the conversation he was having with another uniformed officer.

  “That’s weird, he didn’t put you on the list.”

  “I agree, Detective. But he didn’t realize our murderer would be ahead of schedule by two days.” He tugged on the booties and was ready in moments.

  “Okay then. Don’t step in any blood.” She had no idea what to say to that. Natalia turned from him and proceeded into the room but stopped dead when she came face to face with the crime scene. The head crime scene tech approached them and gave a nod.

  Her cat hissed when the smell reached her very sensitive nose, but she muffled the hiss before it slipped from her lips.

  “Detective Adams. I’m glad you’re here.” The tall, Asian man brushed an unruly strand of bangs out of his eyes. He felt around in his white coat for something and pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. “Dr. Jamison. Good to see you as well. It’s been awhile.”