Shift Work (Carus #4) (4 page)

The person behind the door hesitated before opening it. The hinges creaked a little before revealing a large male Wereleopard with deeply tanned skin and a body that rippled with muscle. Despite his strong appearance, he held himself in a slightly diminutive posture. A sub. And not any sub, the same one I’d met in the torture room of a sadistic Werehyena.

“You.” His large brown eyes widened.

“You,” I said.

We stood in silence. I enjoyed the smells emitting from the house; pumpkin spice, vanilla and cinnamon mixed in with Wereleopard. Someone had baked. My mouth watered.

“Uh, can I help you?” the sub asked. He ran his hand through thick brown hair.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Andy.” I put my hand forward. The Wereleopard stared at it and then frowned. Had he not heard of me? Surely, Tristan would’ve mentioned my name. Even if he hadn’t, his pride would sense his…well, his feelings for me.

Unless a pride’s bond with their Alpha didn’t work like a pack’s. I operated under that assumption, and now, staring at an uncomfortable, if not bewildered sub, I kicked myself for my ignorance.

“I’m dating Tristan…” My voice trailed off, and I took a deep breath. What the heck? I distinctly remember pulling on my big-girl-panties. Where did they go? I straightened my shoulders and met the sub’s eyes. “Is he here?”

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “That Andy! I’m so sorry. I didn’t make the connection. I just…well. You remind me of a time and place I hoped to forget.” He bowed his head and started mumbling at his feet. His fear and turmoil swirled around me. Of course he’d recognize my scent, but he had more tact to comment directly on the incident.

My shoulders dropped a little, and I instinctively reached out. “I’m sorry you had to see me on Mark’s operating table, but I can’t thank you enough for your interruption.”

The sub’s head snapped up.

“I escaped because of you and Angie. Thank you.”

His eyebrows turned up in the middle, and his lips trembled.

“Nelson!” A familiar voice yelled out. “Who is it?”

At the sound of Angie’s voice, ice flowed through my veins to wipe out the warmth from my moment with the sub. The mountain lion inside clawed to get out, wanting to attack Angie and claim her territory. Dang it. She beat me here.

Nelson jumped back. “I’m so sorry!” he said to me. “Please come in.”

I flashed him a quick smile and stepped inside the house with heavenly smells and two Wereleopards, one sweet, one bitchy.

When I rounded the corner of the foyer, the house opened up into a large living room. Angie lay on one of the couches with her feet up. She wore spandex pants that showcased her toned, albeit short, legs and curvy waist. The fuchsia work-out top squeezed her magically enhanced boobs to the point they looked like they’d pop out if she completed a burpee.

“Angie.” I nodded and squashed the urge to take the final steps necessary to punch her.

My mountain lion hissed in my head, and my fingernails stung to elongate.

“Andrea.” She flicked two fingers up in some sort of salute, but all I got from the gesture was attitude and derision.

I took a deep breath. Angie tried to bait me. Why else would she remain sprawled on Tristan’s couch as if I posed no danger, as if she owned this home, not Tristan?

How angry would Tristan be if I beat her up? I could do it, too, but she hadn’t crossed the line…yet. I could always hope.

“Why are you trying to piss me off?” I cocked a hip.

Nelson swayed from foot to foot behind me, and a gust of his nervous energy hit my back. If things came to blows, he’d be stuck between a dominant pride-mate and his alpha’s mate. I didn’t envy his choices. Technically, he should choose my side, if I’d formally been welcomed, finalized the mate bond, and joined the pride, but he’d just officially met me. My stomach lurched. His lack of attachment was entirely my fault.

Angie smirked and wiggled into the couch. “We could always sort our differences out.”

“I think you spend way too much on your magical enhancements to risk a confrontation with me.”

“I don’t plan on losing.” She yawned.

“That’s your first mistake.”

Her attention snagged on my face and a finely plucked brow arched. My mountain lion hissed to swipe the smug expression off her face. “You might have an advantage with your gangly limbs in human form,” she said. “But a mountain lion is no match for a Wereleopard.”

She stood and stretched, making a point to look away as she bared the soft tissue of her stomach. She didn’t act in a submissive way, but in a you’re-beneath-my-concern way.

I snorted. “Who said I’d pit my feline against yours?”

Angie laughed; a trill sound that raked my nerves like fingernails on chalkboard. “Your wolf?” She scoffed. “Like it would have a better chance. I gave your intelligence too much credit, it seems.”

“You gave your own too much.” Maybe I should shut up and let her continue to underestimate me. Maybe I should stick to my best behaviour? My fists clenched. My knuckles popped, and my canines elongated to puncture my bottom lip.

No.
First time in Tristan’s house, confronted with another dominant female, challenged, even if a bit passive aggressively? No. I had to throw down or be thrown down. No other option. I’d turn this into a bitch fight if needed to assert my dominance and my position above Angie in her own pride. She’d peck at me like carrion until she reached bone, otherwise.

Angie blinked.

“Do you honestly think I’m limited to only three forms?” I took another step forward so only a foot separated us.

Angie’s eyes widened. “You have more? If the SRD found—”

“The SRD will never find out. Not from you. You’ve already sworn to your alpha not to reveal my nature, either directly or indirectly.” And thank Feradea for that. Angie chewed her lip in a thoughtful way, entirely too calculating. It made my skin itch.

Angie lifted her chin. “What would you use then?”

My smile widened.

“Well?”

Her nervousness wound around me, and I inhaled the sweet smell deeply. I leaned in. “I want it to be a surprise.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide the relaxing of her shoulders or slowly released breath.

Go in
, my cougar hissed.
Go in for the kill.

Shush, you!

“Tristan’s not here,” Angie said. “He got called to work.” She folded her arms across her chest, and looked out the large window with the view of Burrard Inlet.

“So I see. I’ll text him.” I plastered on a fake smile. Maybe I’ll insist he kick Angie out to live in her old place. “Thanks for your hospitality.” I didn’t mean it.

“Anytime,” she said, not meaning it, either.

Chapter Five

“I put the ‘pro’ in ‘professional’.”

~Andrea “Andy” McNeilly

Dear Ms. Andrea McNeilly, code name: Serendipity,

We regret to inform you that your employment with the Supernatural Regulatory Division has been terminated effective immediately.

Termination was based on a combination of two factors: 1) The untimely true death of Lucien Delgatto, the Master Vampire with whom you shared a blood bond; and 2) The refusal of the current Master Vampire, Allan Akihiko, to renew the horde’s ties with the SRD.

Considering these two factors, your position as liaison between the Vampires of the Lower Mainland and the SRD has been made redundant.

As no contract was signed for the ambassador position, we must fall back on your previous agreement with the SRD, which stipulates no severance package or notice of termination is required by the employer (Section 10.1 d).

A record of employment has been issued, and you may apply for Employment Insurance through the government at your earliest convenience.

Thank you for your service. We wish you much success in your future endeavours.

Sincerely,

Randall Tucker,

Executive Director,

Supernatural Regulatory Division

I crumpled up the letter signed by Agent Tucker’s father. Tucker probably wet his pink panties drafting this piece of crap letter. He didn’t have the gonads to sign it, though. Got daddy-dearest to scribe his fancy-dancy signature on the termination notice instead. What a lovely reminder of his family’s importance and power.

Like that would stop me from gutting him.

I shot the wad of paper at my office’s recycling bin, my form perfect, like a professional basketball player. I put the “pro” in “professional.”

The crumpled paper bounced off the rim, and the wall, finally settling on the floor beside the waste bin.

ATF!

Somehow this was his fault as well.

****

When I slowly applied the brakes, my early model canary-yellow Poo-lude lurched to a stop in front of the Vancouver Police Department downtown headquarters. I’d spent a pretty penny from my savings getting this hunk-of-junk repainted to cover the bright red cock and balls some wannabe thug had emblazoned on the side with spray paint. Ben had laughed and asked why I went with the same colour. For some reason, I’d grown attached to the effervescent shade of radioactive urine.

I pulled the handbrake, grabbed my keys and hopped out of the car. Officer Stan Stevens had left a cryptic message for me to stop by during his shift. He wanted to discuss something. Or at least I assumed he did when he said, “Get your scrawny ass down here.” With curiosity worthy of my feline nature, and having a wide open schedule due to my current unemployment, I found myself walking into the precinct with a bounce in my step.

The desk clerk admitted me to the secured area after I signed in. I wove through the cookie-cutter cubicles and work stations while lingering emotional scents washed over me. Grief, heartache, anger, guilt, and a slew of other unpleasant smells assaulted my nose, but more pleasant scents made it bearable—relief, happiness, determination and gratitude. Cops often got a bad rap. People forgot too easily all the good they did within the community.

When I approached Stan’s desk, he looked up and beamed at me. Middle-aged and sarcastic, he held nothing back when it came to his opinion. His uneven teeth pointed in various directions as if they were sunflowers trying to find the light at a disco party. In the last month, we’d met a few times for beer to bitch about…well, whatever we wanted to bitch about. I called them my “B&B” sessions and found them almost as therapeutic as belting 80s songs karaoke-style with my Witch neighbours.

Stan leaned back and clasped his hands in front of his firm belly. “Andy, I’m glad you made it.”

“Well, your vague message left me in a state of wonder.” I pulled a chair back and sat across his desk from him. “What’s up?”

“Well, there’s been some drug activity.”

“Isn’t there always? It’s Vancouver, not the Vatican.”

Stan snorted. “No, this is different. There’s a new drug on the scene, and it’s deadly.”

“I think I heard of it on the news. What are they calling it? Special K?”

“That’s Ketamine. The new stuff is called King’s Krank, or KK. And, yeah, we’ve been trying to keep a tight lid on it, but somehow those damn reporters got a hold of the story.”

“So how does this involve me?” I had a feeling—an itch at the nape of my neck threatened to race down my spine. My finger beds ached as my nails pushed against the tender flesh to shift to claws.

“We need your help.”

“Could you elaborate?” I plucked a small five by seven inch frame off his desk and flipped it around. A wedding picture of Stan with thicker hair beside a pretty brunette with dark eyes. His wife, Loretta.

“I’ve discussed you at length with my serg—”

I glanced up from the photo. “Tony Lafleur?”

Stan nodded. “We’d like to bring you on to the force, as a direct transfer from the SRD or as a consultant. The way we figure it, we can do faster police work if we have a supe to collect evidence for supe-norm and norm-norm crimes. With this new drug, we could really use your nose to investigate.”

“I think that’s the longest I’ve ever heard you speak.”

“Fuck you.” He snatched the frame from my hands and gently repositioned it on his desk. He smiled. At the photo, not me. “What do you think?”

“I think you want to use me as a drug dog.”

He leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Well, you are a complete bitch most of the time.”

“Har de har har. Like I haven’t heard that before.”

Stan smirked.

“I don’t…” I studied my twisted hands on my lap. “I don’t have my wolf form anymore.”

“What?” Stan’s back straightened. “You can no longer shift?”

“Yeah, about that.” I took a deep breath. “This has to stay between us and your sergeant, okay?”

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” Stan waved his hand in the air as if it was no big deal.

“Seriously, Stan. No leaks.”

He leaned forward. “Shit, this has got to be good.”

“Good enough to land me in the SRD lab if you can’t keep your yap shut.”

Stan paused and pursed his lips. “I get it, Andy. You can trust me.”

“Like I could trust you to brief your fellow officers not to shoot me?”

Stan groaned and flopped back in his chair. “That wasn’t my fault. Dubin…er…the officer was a rookie and totally rattled. Those massacres were intense. He would’ve shot down a mosquito if one dared to fly near him.”

When the Demon, Bola, had found a loophole allowing him unrestricted use of a human form, he’d used his mortal realm “free time” to cause mass slaughter and mayhem. The VPD used me in wolf form to sniff out the massacre sites and when I’d shown up to one, an officer freaked out and shot me in the ass. My blood bond to Lucien at the time meant quick healing and only about thirty minutes of intense pain, but it still pissed me off. And Stan knew it.

Stan leaned forward in his seat again and clasped his hands together. “On my life, Andy, your secret is safe with me.”

The fragrance of his truthful statement flooded my senses and warmed my heart. I laced my fingers together. I whispered, “I have more than one form.”

“Huh?”

I glanced over my shoulder and leaned in. “I can take the shape of more than one animal.”