03 - You Only Live Nine Times (2 page)

“I think you’d be flattered that I’d offer my services.  No need to be a bitch about it,” he snapped.

“There’s every need,” she hissed.  He was insinuating that she was slutty and then was surprised that she wasn’t falling over him and begging him to take her. 
The nerve!

He leaned close to her – too close.  Her instincts and her nose told her to step back from the large male invading her space, but she stood her ground.  Start letting male cats boss you around and the next thing you know you’re a housecat with a litter of five kittens to run after. 
Not happening
.

Smith smirked at her and took a leisurely sniff.  “I can scent you.  Your heat’s coming.  You need someone like me to keep up with you.  Other shifters don’t get heats – you’ll be lucky if they last through the night.”

If her tiger could, she would vomit.  Instead, she would just have to go with telling him to fuck off.  “Don’t worry, stud, I just bought three new vibrators and a thirty-two pack of batteries.  When my heat finally arrives, I’m all set.”

“You really think a vibrator can get the job done?”

Always has in the past – and although the experience didn’t exactly leave her glowing with happiness, she wasn’t about to buck her ritual and try it with a real guy. 
And she wasn’t about to admit that to this jackass.

“Oh yes.  A penis that doesn’t get tired and no awkward small talk after – what’s not to like?  I get all the satisfaction I need without having to put up with a sweaty, heaving asshole grinding on me and not even getting me close to where I need to be.”

The left side of his mouth curled up, giving her a disturbingly crooked smile.  If she couldn’t scent his arousal – and see the evidence of his lust pressing against his trousers – she’d swear he was a serial killer who was about to kill her.  “Sounds like you need some convincing.”  No, not kill her – he wanted to hump her.

Smith pushed her against the wall of the elevator and aimed his wet mouth at hers.  She turned her head to the side, and he pressed sloppy kisses against her cheek as his hands slid down to her hips.  Her tiger roared at her, pushed at Isis to let her free and claw the crap out of this ardent fuckwit.  Isis gritted her teeth and held back.  Did she think that he was an asshole who needed teaching a lesson? 
Definitely
.  But did she think he was worth destroying a new pair of jeans to shift into her stripy companion? 
No, hell no.

She allowed his slobbering mouth to reach her neck, and she unleashed her signature move.  It started with a knee to the crotch, morphed into a head butt when he reared back in surprise and then ended with a roundhouse kick that knocked the perv right on his ass.  Her tiger roared in success. 
Take that asshole!
  Smith slumped to the bottom of the elevator, cupping his junk and whining pathetically.

Signature move – worked every time.  Just in time, too.  They arrived at her floor.  Isis rubbed her neck, trying to de-slime herself.  “If you try to do this to any other female in the building, I will do a lot worse than just bruise your balls.  I’ll leave it up to your limited imagination to think about what that might entail.  Got it?”  Smith whimpered.  “Got it?!”  Her tiger snarled.

“Yes,” he muttered stumbling to his feet.  One hand remained protectively over his man parts.  Probably in case she got the urge to give them another seeing to.

For the first time since Smith stepped into the elevator, Isis smiled genuinely.  “Good kitty, and by the way, welcome to Los Lobos.”

Isis almost skipped out of the elevator.  If her tiger could grin, she would be grinning.  Was it wrong to enjoy putting dickheads in their place?  Not in her book.  No, in her book it was fun.

She found Jessie hovering outside the elevators.  Her naturally dark red hair had been dyed black and sported lightning-like streaks of purple.  Her nose was twitching, making her glasses bounce up and down.

“What’s up, nutsy?”

Jessie opened her mouth to answer but snapped it shut and frowned as Smith staggered out of the elevator, crying quietly.  “What’s wrong with him?”

Her tiger was almost giggling.  “I don’t know, I think he kicked himself in the nuts while shaving.”

The little squirrel shifter raised an eyebrow, skeptically before amusement played on her lips.  “He should be careful, I heard those groinal shaving injuries can be fatal.”

Jessie sobered as she heard the tinkling sound of laughter.  Isis followed her gaze to an ice-cold, skinny blonde woman dazzling their uber boss, Director Lovell, with an obviously fake smile.  After their team leader, Gunner, their boss was their director, a python shifter called Gerry Sanders.  He oversaw all the investigative teams and was technically a deputy director to Director Juliet Lovell – the head of the Los Lobos branch of the SEA.  She was one of the few vampires in the Los Lobos division, most shied away from the California branches due to the sunny weather, but Juliet was old enough and strong enough to withstand just about anything.  She was also rumored to have been romantically involved with Shakespeare and provided inspiration for a certain play that shall rename nameless. 
Psst – it was Romeo and Juliet.

“Who’s blondie?” asked Isis.  Her tiger yawned in disinterest.

Jessie sighed.  “That’s Edith Sanders, the director’s – our director’s – wife.”

Isis and her beast perked up in interest.  “No shit.  Huh, what do you know?  I heard a rumor he was married, but I thought it was bullshit.  I assumed he just went home and plugged himself in for the night to update his software.”  If she could, her tigress would give her a high five.

On the other hand, her squirrel companion was not amused.  “He’s not that bad.”

“He’s a freaking robot.”

Jessie’s cheeks heated in indignation.  “No, he’s professional.  You wouldn’t catch him doing something stupid like kneeing people in elevators.”

“You would if they slobbered on
his
neck and threatened to show
him
a good time,” retorted Isis, not in the least offended.  It was one of her better qualities – at least in her opinion.  While people might find her rude and brusque, she rarely took offense over anything (except perhaps when it came to her mother – but that ghoul didn’t count).  She could dish it out and take it.

“Besides you should see him when he’s shouting at Cutter.  He’s pretty, ah, passionate about that.”

Isis chuckled.  Yeah, she could believe that.  The aggravating wolf shifter could drive a saint to murder.  “The director has my condolences; she looks about as welcoming and appealing as a lemon tree.”

“She is kind of skinny, isn’t she?”  Jessie looked up at Isis through her eyelashes before her eyes dipped to her own curvy form.

“Skinny?  Nutsy, I’m skinny, she looks like she operates on a liquid diet.  She looks like a grape would be too much for her.” 

The blonde caught sight of Isis and Jessie, and her face took on a moue of distaste that twisted her usually beautiful features.  She looped her arm through Juliet’s; with a flick of her platinum blonde hair, she led the vampire away. 
What the fuck was that about?
  Her tiger clacked her magnificent jaws together.  Uptight bitch.  “No wonder the director works long hours if the alternative is going home to that.”

“Yeah,” agreed Jessie, half-heartedly.

Isis bumped her shoulder.  “You going to the bar tonight?”

“I don’t know; I kind of have a lot of work to do.”  The tigress pouted and batted her eyelashes, but Jessie wasn’t moved.  “That only works on men.”

“Wrong again, ye of the bushy tail.  I’ve had a lot of luck using this expression on women.”

“I’ll bet.  Let me rephrase, that won’t work on
this
woman.”

“Never say never,” Isis purred with a wink.  “Anyway, if I see you, I see you.”  She strolled away, leaving Jessie shaking her head.

Her tiger stretched out and nudged Isis.  She breathed in and out a few times.  Yes, she could feel it, too.  A tingling in her sex, a warming in her womb and a pull towards anything with a Y chromosome. 
Easy girl.
  They’d been through plenty of heats before, and this one would be no different, and this was just the warm-up to the main event.

After her encounter with Smith she wasn’t exactly psyched at the thought of trying to meet someone new, and as for calling up an ex…  The only ones who weren’t now mated either tried to hassle her into starting a –
shudder
– relationship or didn’t exactly make her toes curl.  Maybe she should grab a drink at the bar and then go home and relieve herself in a nice warm bubble bath.  Her tiger shrugged.  Yes, that sounded like a plan.

Chapter Two

Detective Rafael Silva frowned at the empty cell.  There was definitely a perp in there before he left for a break.  “Hey, Del,” he called to the sergeant.  “What happened to my guy?”

Del snorted fiercely, making his double chin shake.  “Fucking SEA took him.”

Raf cocked his head on one side.  “SEA?  Why did they want him?”

“One of the techs did a species check on your perp, and he wasn’t human.  So the captain called the SEA, and a couple of their high-and-mighty agents came in and took him.  Fuckers.”

“Great,” muttered Raf as he strode back to the pen.  He found his desk disturbingly void of all the case files that had been spread over them before he’d stepped out for a drink of coffee.  “Just great.”  He slammed the coffee down on his desk, ignoring the sting of pain as it slopped over the side of the cup onto his hand.

He pushed his way into his captain’s office, not bothering to knock.  His captain was mid-conversation with one of his fellow detectives, but neither one looked annoyed or affronted by his entrance.  They shouldn’t really; he did it about a couple of times per month on average.

“You know the drill, Raf,” rumbled his captain as he leaned back in his plush office chair and allowed the heated rollers to massage his overly large buttocks.

“Captain was just doing his job,” chimed in Detective Ethan Miller. 
Ass kisser extraordinaire.

Raf folded his arms and tried to rein in his anger.  “I spent a month working that case and I step out for a few minutes for a break before the interrogation and you hand him over to the SEA.  Just because the perp doesn’t happen to be human…”

“Yes,” interrupted his captain.  “I’m sorry that you’re pissed about not getting the credit, but if you’re looking for glory then you’re in the wrong job.”

He almost snorted at that.  The only thing that got the captain out of his chair was the thought of being able to take the credit for a solved case.  If Raf was looking for glory, then he sure as hell was in the wrong precinct, never mind the wrong job.

“It’s not about the glory.  I put in all the work, I should be the one to question him and get his confession.  I should arrest him.  If the SEA want to take him off my hands after that then fine.  I don’t see why we can’t…”

“Shifters are dangerous,” piped up Ethan.  He looked to the captain for reassurance, and he nodded sagely.  Ethan looked mightily relieved, and Raf almost gagged.  He really was getting up inside the captains oversized rear end.  “We can’t risk our staff for the sake of your pride.”

Raf bristled.  They really did think it was all about his ego and his own arrest numbers.  “What kind of shifter was he anyway?”  He had a hard time imagining the five-foot-three, timorous young man suddenly turning into a jaguar.

Ethan looked through some papers he had perched on his lap.  “The tech seemed to think something from the Leporidae family.”

Was Ethan smugly trying to confuse him with long words?  Because Raf took high school biology – he knew exactly what he was referring to.  “A bunny?  Seriously?  You’re telling me that you immediately called the SEA in to take him away because you were in fear of your life from the goddamn Easter bunny?”  Raf chuckled in manic disbelief and ran his hands through his hair.

“The type of shifter is irrelevant,” said Ethan, hotly.  “Rules are rules, and the rules say that when a crime involves anyone of the, ah, supernatural persuasion, that we have to hand them over immediately.”

“No, actually the procedure is that we inform the SEA and depending on the circumstances they then decide whether or not to intervene or assist.”  Yeah, he’d had the rules thrown at him one too many times so he’d taken the time actually to see what all the fuss was about.  He looked to his captain.  “Did you even ask whether I could keep the case?”

The captain’s face turned stony.  Raf knew the answer. 
Of course, he didn’t.
  No, the captain didn’t want any stinking shifters dirtying up his precinct.  Creatures like them were better out of sight and out of mind.

Raf didn’t have a problem with supernatural creatures.  Hey, the skunk family who lived in the apartment next door were about the nicest people he ever met and happily took in his mail when he went on vacation.  But he was about the only person in his precinct who didn’t have a problem with non-humans, mostly thanks to the anti-shifter atmosphere encouraged by the captain.  The captain had a bad experience with a shifter who tried to kill him when he was a young detective and had hated them ever since.  It didn’t seem to bother him that during his long career as a law enforcement officer that he had been stabbed twice, shot once and ran over by humans.  He bore them no ill for any of the harms they had done him, but he couldn’t get over his hatred of non-humans. 

Still, the captain was due to retire in a couple of years and was just coasting for his remaining months from his massage chair he managed to obtain using the precinct budget.  No, it was fine, they really didn’t need a new coffee machine.  The sludge they had was fine.  It did mean that Raf only had to hang on for a little while before hopefully whoever was appointed as the new captain would be a bit more enlightened.

The captain leaned his elbows on his desk.  “Raf, you’re a good detective.  Hell, you’re probably my best.”  Ethan fidgeted in his chair at that.  “But you have got to get over this non-human thing.  If a non-human is involved, we give it to the SEA.  End of story.”

“But couldn’t we just try working together…”

“There is more than enough human crime to keep us occupied without having to resort to that.”

Ethan nodded in agreement –
big surprise
.

Raf clenched his fists.  “Fine.”  He nodded at the captain and walked out the office; the old bastard looked mightily pleased with himself.  There was no point in arguing.  Calling his captain a prejudiced idiot, even if it was the truth, wasn’t going to shake any sense into him.  No, if he wanted to hang onto his cases he was going to have to get a little more creative.

*

Raf sighed as he eyed the empty donut box.  Not even a freaking crumb.  His eyes wandered over to Detective Johnson’s desk.  The greedy lump was licking his fingers from eating a rainbow sprinkles and had three more piled on his desk.  No wonder his arrest numbers were going down while his pants size went up.

He scrubbed a hand over his face.  His shift ended an hour ago but with nothing better to do he had stuck around to finish up some of his paperwork.  He was about ready to call it a day, go home and catch a rerun of Futurama.

“Hey, Raffy,” cooed a chirpy voice.

He cringed.  He hated being called Raffy.  Made him sound like a damn duck.  “Hi, Georgia, I prefer Raf.”  He’d only told her that about fifteen times since she started three weeks ago but who knows, maybe this was the time it would stick.  Georgia was the captain’s neighbor’s niece or something, and she was his new secretary.  She couldn’t type very quickly, mislaid phone messages, misfiled everything she was given and frequently cut people off when trying to transfer them.  But, the captain liked how well she filled out a sweater and the fact that she wasn’t shy about bending over in her miniskirt.  Unfortunately, she was also single, and in spite of some of the other Detectives seduction attempts, she seemed to have set her sights on Raf. 
Lucky him
.

“Sorry to hear about the SEA stealing your case.”

“I wouldn’t say they stole it, exactly.”  They had it handed to them virtually on a silver platter.

She nodded without paying attention.  It was one of the things that put Raf off immediately about her.  Sure she was pretty – gorgeous even – and he had been kind of interested based on looks alone, but a short conversation with her was enough to wilt his dick.  For one thing, she didn’t listen, merely nodded like a bobble-head until she found a chance to change the subject and talk about what she had been thinking about the whole time.  For another, she hated non-humans about as much as the captain. 
Bigotry really wasn’t an attractive quality.

“So what time does your shift end?”

“Actually, it already has.  I was about to head out.”  His bed was beckoning him.

Georgia brightened.  “Me, too.  You wanna go grab a drink?”

He held back the groan.  She was persistent if nothing else.  “Actually I’m pretty beat.  I’m gonna go home and get some shut-eye.”

“Well, I live in the same area as you, perhaps you could give me a ride home – since you’re going in that direction anyway.”

Fuck. 
Think of an excuse, think of an excuse…
  The last time he gave her a ride it had been nearly impossible to dislodge her from his car.  She wouldn’t get out until he agreed to go on a date with her.  Thank heavens for that call from dispatch. Otherwise, he’d probably still be there arguing with her.  He’d never been happier to get a call out to a double homicide.  Even Georgia couldn’t hold out against that.

“Shit!”  Detective Barnes slammed his phone down, making everyone in the office look round.

Raf gratefully took that diversion to slip away from Georgia’s tentacle-like grasp.  “What’s up?”

“I just got a call from patrol; they want me to go and investigate some weird shit at a cemetery.”

“Some weird shit?” repeated Raf, as a scowling Georgia walked over to join them.

“Yeah, they were sketchy with the details.  I’m on call, but I got a date with the weather girl from Channel Ocho y Ocho.”

Johnson looked up with interest; chocolate smeared all over his pudgy chin.  “Holy fuck, you got a date with Lola Sanchez?  No wonder you’re pissed.  That woman’s fucking hot.  Whenever it’s going to be above eighty, she does the weather in a gold bikini.”

“Don’t remind me,” grunted Barnes.

“If it’s weird just call the SEA,” suggested Georgia, tired of listening to a conversation about how a woman other than her was hot.  “Let those freaks deal with it.”

Barnes chewed on his cheek.  He was a pretty conscientious guy, except when it came to work interfering with his love life.  Raf could tell that he was torn so he knew what he had to do.  “I’ll handle it, you go on your date.”

The detective looked like he’d just been told Santa was real.  “Really?”

“Sure, I got no plans.”  And it was better than the alternative, he thought, glancing at Georgia’s unhappy face.  “But you gotta give Georgia a ride home.”

Georgia’s tried to object.  “That’s not necessary…”

“My pleasure,” said Barnes with a wink.

Raf gave her a triumphant smile.  “There you go, problem solved.”

Georgia forced a ‘thanks’ through her tightened lips and stalked away to grab her purse. 
Whew, close call.
  “So where am I going?”

*

“Igor!  Hurry, I hear people coming.”

“Doctor… the body…”

“We don’t have time for the whole thing, grab the other arm, we need to go.”

“But the grave…”

“We don’t have time!  Hurry!”

“Yes, Doctor.”

*

Raf shivered as he tried to concentrate on the groundskeeper.  He wasn’t so sure this was a good plan after all.  Sure he’d escaped Georgia’s clutches, but hanging around a cemetery at night, getting wet and trying to get the details about a grave robber out of a surly, old mole shifter?  Yeah, he wasn’t so sure it was a good trade.

The groundskeeper, who insisted his name was Shep, lived in a hut on the edge of the cemetery.  He had been performing a routine check of the gates when he found that one of the chains had been cut with bolt cutters.

“And then what did you do, Mr. ah Shep?”

Shep gave him an incredulous look.  “Then I called you guys.  What the fuck did you think I would do?  I only maintain the grounds – if anyone tries to steal any of the bodies, that’s your fucking department.”

“Alright, Mr. ah Shep, there’s no need to get testy.”

“I’ve already been through this with those idiot patrol officers; they seemed to think I should have just run off into the cemetery playing G. I. fucking Joe.  I told them, I sure did tell them, that catching bad guys was their department.  They think that just because I’m a shifter that I should be pumped up and ready to take down thugs like a fucking MMA fighter.”  Shep looked down on his short yet rotund figure.  “I’m a fucking eighty-two-year-old, gardening, mole shifter for goddess’ sake!”

“I’m sorry, Shep, you’re right,” said Raf as soothingly as possible.  And he was right.  Patrol officers had a tendency not to take shifters complaints as seriously as humans.  There was an attitude that shifters should take care of any problems they encounter themselves.  Which didn’t bode well last month when three huge, human thugs were robbing a weasel shifter’s antique store.  The weasel shifter was currently suing the department for their lack of action, and although he hated to feel disloyal, Raf couldn’t blame her.

Shep relaxed slightly, perhaps surprised by Raf’s admission.  “Well, the other cops went this way, follow me.”

The mole shifter set off at a startlingly fast rate; Raf puffed and panted to keep up with him.  Not to mention how easily Shep navigated the many headstones and monuments.  Raf almost cracked his jaw on a low flying angel statue.