Iron Flats Justice: Shifter Realms

by Elle Thorne

  He paused. Was it a good sign that it opened? Normally, he’d have thought, sure, because it meant someone was coming home and things weren’t atypical, as far as most families went. But the fact not a soul had entered or departed the home in at least twenty-four hours did not bode well for the family. Especially when coupled with the rank odor of stale blood that smacked him in the face the second he’d cracked the door open.

  He was not looking forward to what he was going to find. With that thought in mind, he entered the humble home.

  Sure enough. It was a blood bath. Dink was dead, TV remote still in hand, one round to the forehead. Angie was dead, too, in the back bedroom, lying in bed, her throat slashed. And he had seen enough shifter-caused deaths to know a set of razor-sharp claws had done that.

  The kids were each in their rooms, cell phones in hands, earbuds still on. They never heard their father being shot—probably used a silencer—or their mother’s throat slashed. Given they’d been dead for more than a day, he was pretty sure someone was going to come checking on them. He figured he’d better do some quick reconnaissance and git. Back to the kitchen and living area he went.

  Then he noticed it. A bouncing thing you put babies in. And these people didn’t have a baby. But they’d emailed Paul and said they knew the woman who had the baby. Was that for him? Judd leaned in and took a long whiff.

  Oh, yeah. Definitely wolf shifter baby.

  He’d been around enough of them at Crooked Arrow Ranch to know. So, where you at, little wolf? Where you at?

  Though he didn’t hear cop sirens, he knew damned well they’d be running silent for something like this. He needed to get out. He started for the door, moving shifter-fast. He picked up a couple of cell phones on the kitchen table. Had to be Dink and Angie’s. Dink’s was black, Angie’s had a hot pink cover on it that actually matched the fingernail polish she’d been wearing. Certain Angie was the link, based on the email, he left Dink’s phone behind. Authorities might not look for one missing cell, but for certain, they’d search for a second one. And he needed to get the information off of it and then ditch it ASAP before it could get traced.

  He made for the back door until—

  Something caught his eye. He turned back and glanced at the fridge. On the door, a picture printed on regular copier paper of a baby boy. A boy with wolf shifter silver in his eyes.

  Oh, yeah, come to Papa.

  Or, in this case, Grandpapa.

  He snagged the picture, gave it a quick quarter-fold, then shoved it in his pocket and left lickety-split, heading for his borrowed truck. Didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to bring his own Ford out here, with his license plates on it, while he practically camped out, surveying the scene. Nah, he borrowed one from Gabe, his friend that had a junkyard full of operational vehicles that didn’t have papers on them. At least, not legal papers.

  Into the Dodge he jumped, started it, and nosed the vehicle out of the trailer park’s gate, with its dual-mounted longhorn skulls, complete with horns, on each side of the entrance.

  Judd ordered two breakfasts at the local Waffle House, garnering a look of appreciation from the woman who took his order. She’d been flirting hard, from the moment he perused the greasy, fingerprint-peppered, laminate-peeling menu and ordered a cup of coffee, to right now. He took the photo from his pocket and smoothed it out on the cigarette-burn-scarred Formica table. He flipped it over.

  Cash Malone.

  Nine months.

  He flipped it back over. Studied the image. Cute little boy. Taken in a kitchen that looked a little like Angie’s. Another mobile home. Huh. Bet she lived in the same park? What were the odds of that?

  There was a digital date in the corner from only three months ago.

  Chapter Eight

  Two days now, Cash had been Cash-wolf-pup.

  Maisie had held him, cajoled him, played with him, been shocked he didn’t pee and crap all over the place, going to the door with that cute little puppy dog way of his, and waiting for her to take him out to her poor excuse for a backyard, which was just bare dirt under an elm tree. That was the size of her yard. She had no yard, to speak of, really.

  And she’d waited and prayed and wished she could go see Angie and ask her what she thought. Could she research the lore behind people turning into animals like she’d seen movies and such, okay? But this was different. The movies had grownups turning into full-grown, scary-ass, hairy-ass beasts.

  This was a baby. A baby that was currently a wolf pup. A cute and cuddly one. Except when he took it in mind to play rough with her. Those little teeth were all kinds of sharp.

  She also wished she had a computer. And internet. And a better phone plan so she could use her phone for research. It didn’t get past her that she’d missed work three days. She was certain she didn’t have a job to go back to. What did she have? No money. No car, because Dink hadn’t come by yet to look at it. Not that she’d go anywhere. What if Cash-wolf-pup decided to be a human again while she was out? Then what authorities would be called in on them? CPS? Animal Control? They’d collect him and take him to a lab to study? To Poke, prod, kill, dissect? He was just a baby boy.

  That thought exhausted her. No, it terrified her. And the fear led to exhaustion. She fell asleep again, her arm flung over the warm furry body.

  Maisie jerked awake. She reached out instinctively for Cash, only to find furriness there. Her eyes flew open.

  Cash-wolf-pup. That was right. God. Had she managed to get more than five minutes of sleep?

  Then she heard it again and realized what had awakened her. Knuckles on her front door. And if it was on her front door, it wasn’t Angie or Jimbo or Dink because they didn’t use the front door. In fact, no one did. No one she wanted to talk to, that is.

  More knocking.

  Then, “Ms. Malone. Open this door immediately. Child Protective Services.”

  “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” She covered Cash-wolf-pup’s ears. “Sorry, little fella.” Not the mother of the year today, am I? Today? Try this week. Or this month.

  And now, to deal with this. She shoved her hair out of her face, realized she’d been wearing the same clothes for two days—ugh!—and hustled to the door, Cash-wolf-pup under one arm. Flinging it open, she stared at the guy on the other side of the threshold.

  He looked nothing—nothing!—like how she’d expect someone from CPS to look. He wore jeans and a white shirt rolled to the elbows. At least two days scruff on his face, and hair that was shorter on the sides, a little longer on top. But that wasn’t it. Not by a long shot. It was the muscles. Holy hell, this man’s muscles had muscles. Not the bulky, meathead kind, not at all. No, this man was lean and muscular and had a face that was—and now she understood what the girls at the bar meant when they said—fuckable. Totally and completely fuckable.

  Shit. She was staring.

  He watched her coolly, and, for a second, she wondered if he was related to Bruiser because of his eyes—no, never mind. Must have been the shadows cast by the neighbor’s spruce tree as it caught the wind playing tricks on her mind.

  “Ms. Malone.” He raised a brow as he appraised Cash-wolf-pup. “I’m checking into a call about your son. Cash Malone? Regarding his wellbeing.”

  Are you blind? My son’s right here. Yeah, that wouldn’t go over very well. “Where’s your clipboard?” Did she really just say that? And where the hell had that thought come from?

  “Not all of us fit the stereotypical mold,” he said laconically.

  Fit the mold? He would barely fit through the door, she imagined. Though she didn’t plan to find out. He could wait out there.

  Cash-wolf-pup squirmed in her arms, so she reached behind her and put him on the floor, cautioning him, with a finger to the tip of his little black nose, he was to behave.

  “So, your son,” he persisted. “Where’s Cash?” His gaze was focused on Cash-wolf-pup.

  She moved to block his vision, partially closing the door so he didn’t check out C
ash-wolf-pup, and in particular, so he couldn’t see it if Cash-wolf-pup decided to switch back to being the gorgeous toddler she was heartily missing at the moment. “I already told you, he’s with his sitter, Angie. At her house.” She indicated wildly with a wave toward the trailer park in general, not wanting him to see exactly which trailer was Angie’s.

  “Would that be Angie Roberts?”

  A chill passed over her. How did he know Angie’s name? Who would have called—had he gone asking Angie questions? Had he talked to Angie? Had Angie said she didn’t have Cash?

  “Um, yeah. She…well, I….” She wanted to scream in a panic. What was she supposed to do? If he talked to Angie and she didn’t have Cash, and he knew Maisie didn’t have Cash, then they’d do some kind of missing child thing and put her in jail and where would Cash-wolf-pup go? Animal Control. Or he’d be put down for being a wolf. Or he’d shift back to a human and—

  Her legs felt weak suddenly. Her head was hot. Her pulse roared in her ears. She leaned against the doorjamb.

  “Ms. Malone?” His voice sounded so far away, so distant, like it was all a dream.

  “Hmmm?” She tried to focus on him, but all she saw was a mountain of a man in front of her. At her legs, Cash-wolf-pup was lunging for the door. Why was this happening?

  “Ms. Roberts isn’t home.”

  “Not home?” She heard her own voice, could see herself, like she was flying from above and watching the whole thing play out, talking with CPS McHottie about Angie while Cash-wolf-pup was trying to get around her legs.

  “No, ma’am. So—”

  “Angie doesn’t leave her house. Except to get groceries. And today’s not—” Was today’s Angie’s grocery day? “What day is this?”

  “Ms. Malone, can we talk inside?”

  “In-s-side?” Now her voice was breaking, and everything was getting all kinds of weirder than it was before. The world was closing in around her. She was at the bottom of a very deep pit, and someone was putting a lid on the hole.

  It was getting dark and—

  Chapter Nine

  Judd Walker knocked on Maisie Malone’s front door.

  And knocked.

  And knocked.

  His wolf could pick up two sets of heartbeats inside. And judging from the speed of hers, she was asleep, in a total state of relaxation. Until she wasn’t. He knew the second she woke up, in full-on panic, freaking out. About someone knocking on the door? Why would her pulse race over that?

  He heard her padding to the doorway then opening it.

  First thought, Maisie Malone was hot as fuck. Even with bedhead and clothes that—his sensitive shifter nose wrinkled—might have been worn for a few days in a row. Her golden hair was sticking out all over the place. Her blue eyes reminded him of the Nevada sky in the mornings when he was tossing a line in the water. He wasn’t even going to discuss those tits, but hot damn! And her shape. A perfect 8. Not a ten, nope. An eight. Full on top, full in the hips, and all of that meeting in the middle at a waist where she held a bundle of fur.

  Wait. What?

  Second thought, bundle of fur? She had a puppy?

  Nope, not after that pup looked at him. That was no regular pup. Those eyes. That was little Cash Malone, but he was in his wolf form.

  Judd did his best to plaster a very formal, friendly, bureaucrat smile on his face, though in his mind, his wolf was reacting to her and to the pup. His wolf howled, the sound filling his mind.

  The pup took one glance at Judd, and its inner wolf clearly knew what was up. It snarled at him real low. A sound her human ears wouldn’t even pick up.

  Judd let his wolf rumble a greeting back in his chest, letting the little wolf know he wasn’t in danger. At least, not from him.

  He’d tried to question her, saying things he figured a CPS agent—representative? Hell, he didn’t know what one would be called. Then suddenly, she leaned against the doorjamb. Her pulse sounded weaker, distant.

  And then—poof. She was down!

  He grabbed her swiftly, swooping her up, then closed the door with his knee, while at the same time, body blocking—erm, leg blocking, because the little tyke was so small—the wolf pup from slipping out.

  Once inside, he checked out the place. There was barely any furniture, and what there was, well, it was threadbare. He looked down at her. Life didn’t seem like it was easy on her, but she didn’t appear any worse the wear for it, except for the unconscious thing.

  Had he brought that on, what with his showing up? He placed her on a loveseat, laying her on cushions that had vomited their stuffing, then he turned to the little wolf.

  “Come here, young un.”

  The tiny critter eyed him warily from the floor, next to the couch enveloping his momma.

  “Son, if I was going to hurt you, I wouldn’t need to ask you to come to me. I’d have already wrapped my fangs around your tender little throat.” He let his wolf show in his growl but kept the sound from being menacing.

  The pup studied him. His eyes went fully silver, then blueish gray with swirling silver patterns. He took a step closer to Judd.

  Judd swooped down and picked him up. The wolf pup squirmed, snarling in a too-cute-for-words way, acting like he was a tough wolf.

  He held him up in front of his face and leveled him a stern gaze. “Knock that crap off, Cash Malone. I’m not going to hurt you or your momma.”

  The wolf pup went still, but his gaze remained wary.

  “Listen here. I’m talking to your wolf, now, not you, okay? I need to get your wolf to understand something.”

  The pup stayed stock-still, not even blinking.

  Judd let his wolf come out in a series of snarls and growls. Then he said, “Let that boy go back to being a baby. It’s too early for you to be doing this. And he’s the dominant one. Don’t take advantage of this situation, or I’ll bring my wolf out to teach you a lesson.” He brought his face close to the pup’s and bared his teeth. He’d allowed his wolf to slip out, just enough to show him the fangs the wolf could use on him, if forced to.

  The pup yipped once.

  Then the change happened. Some bones creaking, sinew stretching, whimpering from the little one, and the wolf pup shifted into a little baby boy with eyes the color of his momma’s. Nevada sky, except the boy’s had that wolf shifter silver running throughout.

  On the topic of eyes, Judd felt a pair on him. He glanced at the loveseat. She was conscious. And staring at him.

  There was one moment of calm before the shit hit the fan.

  Screeching. Shouting. Flailing. All her. Just her, losing her shit.

  Jumping up from the couch, she snatched the baby from his arms. “What— Get out of my house. You can see I have him. He’s here. He’s fine. Get out of my house.”

  “Ms. Malone.”

  “Get the hell out!”

  Chapter Ten

  Maisie opened her eyes. She couldn’t believe her sight.

  Cash was back.

  Cash-wolf-pup was gone. And who was the guy holding—oh, yeah, the CPS guy—

  That set her off. She had no clue what had happened. She passed out and came to, and CPS McHottie was holding Cash, and he’d clearly seen him turn into a human baby boy again.

  And her worries clawed at her like a cat held too tightly. Worries like, they’d take Cash. They’d do experiments on him. They’d put him in a cage. They’d kill him…

  All the thoughts started again and went through her mind in the few seconds it took her to process what was going on and jump up and grab Cash. “You can’t take my baby. I won’t let you. I don’t care what you say you saw. You can’t prove it. Get out. I’m fine. He’s fine. Go away.”

  CPS McHottie scowled—which only made his handsome face more handsome—handing her the baby. “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, I understand perfectly. You want to take my baby away. Someone called you. Someone sent you. Someone—” Her head was spinning, but not from getting ready to pass out. No, i
t was spinning in confusion. “Who the fuck called CPS on me? Who would do that?”

  “We got an email. From Ms. Roberts.”

  “What? No. There’s no way she’d turn on me. She loves me. She’s like a big sister to me. I don’t believe you!” She was verging on the state of hysteria, but she’d been through too much, and sleep deprivation was taking its toll on her. Three nights of constant on-and-off vigil over her baby that had turned into a wolf pup. She took a deep breath. “What do you plan to do?”

  Her mind flew to the old pistol she’d tucked under her mattress. God knew when the last time the thing was fired. God knew if it would misfire and kill her. Or kill Cash. She couldn’t afford to shoot it, but she certainly could brandish it and scare the hell out of this CPS bastard. She could use it to get him the hell out of her house. She crouched, ready to run to the back of the trailer for the weapon.

  “Ms. Roberts didn’t turn you in, Ms. Malone.”

  “What? Then why are you here?”

  “Ms. Roberts reached out to the baby’s grandfather, Paul MacIntosh.”

  “What?” Maisie ran through her conversation with Angie. She’d told her no. But clearly, she’d reached out to Paul MacIntosh. “I’m going to kill her.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud. Then she noticed his expression. Something was very wrong. Why did he look like that? “I’m kidding,” she amended. “You know. It’s an expression.” She was babbling. She sure as hell was.

  “So, why are you here? Are you not with the CPS? Because why would they send CPS out here for something like that? Did Paul MacIntosh send you? Did he say I’m not doing a good job? Because I’ll have you know—” She jabbed a finger at his chest. His unmoving, muscular, stone wall chest. Her finger didn’t even sink in. Nothing. It was like she was poking granite. She collected herself.

  Quit acting as though he’s the only fine body you’ve ever seen. Bruiser was built like this.