At work, everyone was on their best behavior thanks to our plain clothes officer audience. I’d not heard a single expletive or curse to a higher power all morning. Somehow that change made the office a worse place.
Our visitor was Brian, the cop formerly known as the rookie. He didn’t know about the subtitle I’d given him, and I intended to keep it that way. Brian had accepted an extra chair from Linda—the office suck-up—and stationed himself at the corner near our elevator doors. Linda was happy because she could see him from her office. More than once she’d “dropped” an office supply and bent to fetch it, showing off more cleavage than a woman in her prime ought to. More than once Brian hadn’t noticed.
My co-worker, Greg had let me borrow his phone charger. My device was almost back to full strength. But there’d been no text messages or voice mails. I hadn’t missed a damn thing.
By ten o’clock, the office settled into our usual flow sans cursing. That vibe changed at a quarter after ten when the elevator dinged and spit out the oily, would-be mayor. I couldn’t remember his name and decided his subtitle would work for now.
Linda popped upright from her latest office supply loss and clacked out to meet the guy. Her smile matched his neon expression. “Eugene! It’s so good to see you again.”
I supposed I’d have to call him Eugene now even though oily, would-be mayor was so much more accurate. Sometimes knowing wasn’t half the battle.
“Linda.” Eugene let her give him a continental kiss on both cheeks. He froze, gaze going flinty as he caught sight of the guy perched in the corner.
Linda glanced between them. A nervous chuckle sounded at the stone-like set of his shoulders. “That’s Shelby’s babysitter.”
What. A. Bitch.
Eugene lifted an eyebrow and faced me. “Why does Shelby need a babysitter?”
“Someone might be trying to kill her.”
I wanted to do a face palm or a face desk. Instead I maintained a stilted expression and waited for something worse to happen.
“Ma’am,” Brian the rookie said, voice equal parts dull and authoritative. “Please don’t give out details of this ongoing investigation.”
Eugene’s other eyebrow lifted to join the first.
Linda laughed again. “Sorry. I thought it was public knowledge considering her name was in the newspaper and everything.”
“The police officers who were shot,” Eugene said. “That was you?”
Brian got to his feet and crossed the room, placing himself between the would-be mayor and me. “The investigation is ongoing.”
My head burned in embarrassment. I wanted to defend myself and say I hadn’t shot anyone—that I was only a witness. But that wasn’t true. Not considering I’d helped Nick hide a body and I hadn’t told the truth about the fate of the cop killer. I was an accessory to murder. I was a criminal.
“Undercover officer,” Eugene said. “Not a babysitter.”
Linda flushed as if he’d directed the words at her, and perhaps he had. “I was just trying to bring a little humor to the situation.”
“Humor.” Eugene’s demeanor went deadpan as he stared at me. “To a situation in which four police officers lost their lives and this young woman is in danger from a killer still at large.”
“I’m…sorry.” Linda whispered the final word before shuffling quietly to her office.
Eugene strode across the carpet, heedless to the officer in his way. He reached for my hand and lifted it to his chest. I blinked back surprise. His lives-in-a-barbershop scent attacked my nostrils.
“If there’s anything I can do, Shelby,” he grazed his finger along the edge of my palm, sparking strange shivers, “you let me know.”
“Thank you.” I barely contained a stutter. “Raymond is in his office. I can let him know you’re here.” I wasn’t Raymond’s assistant but Linda looked as if she’d break down in tears at any second.
“I mean it, Shelby.” Eugene stroked my hand and then let it go. “I’ll be keeping an eye out for you.”
This time the shivers were cold rather than strange. I managed a smile and sat, hoping he got the idea I was done talking as I reached for my computer mouse. A door creaked opened behind me and Raymond walked out, greeting our guest. I breathed in relief as they disappeared together.
We passed a half hour in near silence. Rustling from Raymond’s office had me skittering off to the restroom. I stayed there with Brian stationed outside the door for fifteen minutes. Red-faced, I returned to my desk to discover Raymond’s office empty and an upside down business card on my desk. A seven-digit number was written in black on the back—a phone number. I flipped it over.
Eugene Genovese, esq.
Attorney at Law
His phone number, mailing and email addresses were included. What the card lacked was a line asking to vote for him. Maybe the phone number led to an answering service that asked for support. Or maybe it led to him.
I shivered again and tried not to recall his brighter than bright smile.
Could a mayor pardon murderers or was that strictly a gubernatorial task? I doubted his pardoning abilities, but tossed the beige rectangle in my purse in case knowing the would-be mayor could prove useful in the future.
Time to ready myself for a boring lunch indoors since my police escort wouldn’t let me leave the building until close of business. If I could make it to the safe house tonight without maiming anyone, I’d count them all lucky. As for me? Well, I’d had my share of luck lately and was certain it would run out sooner or later. Good thing I had big bad bears on my side.
Detective Davis—or was it Lieutenant Davis—opened the steel security door to my very first safe house—a squat bungalow forty minutes north of work. The place looked like the last owner had filled it with cats and ceramic versions of their living counterparts. Fortunately, the brown shag carpet and nearly matching furniture didn’t smell of feline. I walked past Davis and stepped inside, making room for my babysitter Brian.
“We got pizza.”
I faced Davis, lifting an eyebrow. His already dark cheeks went darker, and he shifted onto one foot, scratching at his ear.
“Okay.” I smothered a laugh at his expense.
“It’s pepperoni. You said that was fine before.”
“Okay.” I’d had pizza overload recently, but I was good with that.
“And there’s coke, and…um…beer if you want.”
Was the beer for me or them? I glanced at Brian, noting he bounced from leg to leg, shooting looks at the now closed door. His shift must be over. He had been with me for more than nine hours.
So then who was on duty tonight?
A scan around what I could see of the house didn’t answer the question. The only person visible—and I could see inside most rooms from my vantage point—was Davis. Maybe my new babysitter was doing a perimeter check around the…um, perimeter.
“If pizza isn’t good, there’s a stack of delivery menus in the kitchen. Just order something, and I’ll have someone pick it up.”
I met Davis’ gaze, realization dawning on me. Oh no. He was my babysitter. A night of horror flashed through my mind, ending with me locked behind bars in between two gangly street walkers. Could I spend the next nine or so hours keeping Nick’s secrets if Davis hung on my every word?
His chin pulled forward and eyes crinkled. Brian’s bouncing increased in frequency. I glanced between them, trying to figure out what was up. They were waiting for something. What?
Oh, right. “Pizza is good,” I said.
Davis relaxed onto his heels. “Thank you, Brian. I’ll see you tomorrow. Grab some pizza on your way out.”
Did that mean Davis intended to be here all night ? I forced my hand to remain at my side though it itched to smack my forehead.
“Nah, I’m good.” Brian gave me a little wave, and then darted out of the house so fast I almost saw a tiny dust cloud in his wake.
The door thudded closed. I was left alone with Davis, in a strange place, and far out of my element.
“I’m going to need take-out drugs.” Too late I realized how that statement could have a bad connotation. I coughed and hid my face as I bent to set my purse on the floor. “Um…I mean like drugs to help me sleep. That not-NyQuil stuff just for sleeping would work. Or the PM pain reliever. Or both. Yeah, both sounds good.”
“I’m sure there’s some in the medicine cabinet.”
I froze in a crouch that would have my thighs protesting in the morning. I discreetly took another look around the place. Photographs of three generations of handsome dark-skinned men in uniform and the same men holding big fish were scattered around the walls and flat surfaces. Several pictures included a younger version of Davis with a slightly older lookalike and a pretty young woman who could have been a twin. And still more included the trio with an older couple in their Sunday best. Knitting accessories served as clutter or decoration in between.
The brown shag carpet and almost matching furniture didn’t belong to some random cat lady. This place belonged to his family. Texas had to be hurting for cash if this is what they did with their witnesses. Because bringing me to the lead detective’s grandparent’s house couldn’t be terribly secure. Or could it?
“Pizza is in the kitchen. Right that way.” Davis pointed toward the warm glow behind him. “Drinks are chilling in the ice box.”
No way in fresh Texan hell would I be drinking a beer from Davis’ grandma’s ice box in Davis’ grandma’s house while Davis tried to work me over for the truth. No way, no how.
“I’ll take a coke,” I said.
As I’d hoped, Davis disappeared into the warm glow. I made myself rise from my crouch and tried to choose the least offensive spot to sit. A worn easy chair faced the wide screen television at an optimal viewing angle. As much as I wanted to ensure no one else could sit with me, I suspected that was someone’s favorite chair. I picked the end of the faded brown sofa with the worst view of the television.
Davis hurried in with red cans balanced on one arm and plates of greasy pizza on the other. I accepted one of each, cracking open the can. Caffeine was the second worst idea right now, but I needed something to drink…and to do.
I’d chewed two bites when Davis dropped his plate onto the easy chair’s arm and grabbed his phone. “So, can you explain this?” He held up the device, displaying a picture I could barely make out from my spot across the living room.
Based on the colors and shapes, my best guess was that I was looking at furniture in a room. “I can’t really see it. So no?”
Davis tossed the device toward me. I ducked to avoid getting beaned in the head. The phone cracked into the wall behind me.
“Shit,” we both said.
He was up and across before I could put my dinner aside. Davis knelt on the cushion beside me and leaned over the back. He retrieved his prize, rubbing at the screen with his thumb. Everything looked in one unmolested piece. I didn’t dare let out a relieved breath.
Holding the phone out, he winced when he saw the message that popped up on the screen. Ed, I need more lube.
I swallowed a chortle and tried to look angelic.
This time his blush was as obvious as the scowl chasing it away. “Car lube,” he said. “My sister thinks she’s hilarious.”
I let out my chortle. “That’s kind of messed up.” As was Davis’ name being Ed. I never would have guessed that.
He swiped the screen and rage-typed a reply to her. Too soon he had his picture back and shoved his phone’s screen in front of me. I’d been correct. The photograph was of furniture in a room. If I wasn’t mistaken it was my furniture.
I squinted and pushed my face as close to the screen as I could without hitting it with my nose. Yes, that was my stained mocha coffee table, torn purple sofa, and black and white rug. The weirdest thing? It was all in my apartment.
I tried to remember what he’d asked. He’d wanted me to explain, hadn’t he? I lifted my head, still squinting. “Can I explain what?”
He pushed out an annoyed puff of air. “Why is all of your furniture back in your apartment?”
“Wait…what?”
Davis pointed a finger at the screen. “Look at the time stamp.”
I had no idea how to do that so I stared at him blankly. He rage clicked again, this time showing image information that hadn’t appeared before. The time stamp, as he’d called it, was this afternoon at four o’clock.
“You’re saying that picture was taken today?” I shook my head, unsure how to feel about this. “Then no, I can’t explain why my furniture is back. The ro—Brian was with me all day. He knows that after I left the apartment this morning, I didn’t go anywhere until here. So how would I know anything had happened?”
Davis pocketed the phone and sunk onto the sofa beside me. His scowl hardened. “No one called you at work to tell you they’d found your things?”
“No.”
He gave a soft laugh. “Someone broke into your place, stole everything, and then broke back in and put it all back?”
I tossed up my hands. “I guess? I don’t know.” But I really wanted to talk to Nick. Where was he? I assumed he and the pack had found the people responsible and then fixed it. Did that mean I was safe now? And did that mean whoever had stolen my stuff was a whole hell of a lot less safe now?
I felt Davis assessing me. I tried for an innocent expression despite the guilt pricking at my conscience, letting my eyes go wide and helpless. Considering he’d met me when I’d been wearing a sexy fairy outfit, I doubted he’d buy my pathetic excuse for an act. I did the only thing I could, I told the truth.
“I really, truly don’t know what happened, Davis.”
His hard-edged stare softened. “Ed.”
I blinked, not wanting to believe he’d just put us on a first-name basis.
“I think after that lube text from my sister, we can be a little less formal.”
“Okay, Detective Ed.”
He snorted. “More pizza?”
I hadn’t really touched the first piece, but now that he seemed to have let me off the hook and decided we didn’t have to be formal, I was a whole lot hungrier. “Yes. Please. And I’ll take a beer.”
Let’s just hope alcohol wasn’t as bad idea as I’d feared.
One sitcom and a movie later, I excused myself to the Davis family guest room. My phone vibrated four seconds after I’d sent a text message to Nick asking about my returned sofa. My heart did a flutter…tank. Him calling likely meant he wasn’t responsible for my furniture’s reappearance.
Then who was? Could I hope the pack had tracked down the bad guys and Nick had yet to check with them? Only one way to find out.
I swiped my finger over the flashing message, bent my head closer to the borrowed bed, and answered. “Hello?”
“Shelby?” As Nick’s lovely voice floated through my ear, I closed my eyes and held in a dreamy sigh. Ah, the man was fine, even if he’d left me high and dry last night.
“Yeah?”
“Why the fuck are you whispering?”
I glanced at the closed guest room door, and then at the walls around me. Could Davis…er, Ed hear me through them? Probably. But I needed to talk to Nick all the same.
“I’m at the safe house,” I said.
“Safe house? What safe house? You mean Haiden’s place?”
I stared at the green, shadow-striped pillow case, trying to work out who Haiden was. The three beers I’d guzzled had me sluggish and my memory fuzzy. Haiden…the Aggie fanatic and…Alpha werebear, right?
“No,” I said. “A police safe house. Davis’ grandparent’s house to be exact.”
My breath harshed out of my mouth three times before I heard any response from Nick. Even then he failed to speak, snorting instead.
“You are at Detective Eduardo Davis’ grandparent’s house?”
I wanted the bed to swallow me up so I wouldn’t have to answer.
“As in his grannie’s personal place of residence?” Nick’s pitch went low on the operative word. I imagined him turning red and sprouting fur.
If he knew the detective’s given name, did he also know his grandparent’s home address? Probably not.
I cleared my throat. “Yes?”
“Yes or no, Shelby? Answer the question.” Had I thought he sounded sexy before? Anger made him rumble with a bear-like gruffness.
“I didn’t ask,” I said, feeling twice as breathless as I thought I sounded, which meant what he heard was probably gurgling.
“And why are you at Eduardo Davis’ grandparent’s personal place of residence?”
The repetition had my hackles going up. “Because Eduardo discovered my apartment was empty and that I hadn’t been staying there for the past several nights. And since I’m a key witness in a cop killing case, he didn’t want to take any chances with my safety.”
“Are you implying I took chances with your safety?”
“Of course not. I know I’m safest with you. But you took off, Nick. You disappeared, and the only person who was around was Matty, and he couldn’t exactly fight the police on my behalf.”
The silence on the other end made me bold. Or rather bolder. Beer had been the other catalyst in this little emotion soup chemical reaction. “Where did you go? Why did you leave me in a strange place with strange, scary people?”
“I didn’t get your furniture back.”
I pulled the phone away, staring at the name on the screen. Yes, that still said Nick Kang. He was back to being his dick self. Maybe beer had been involved on his side of the call, too.
Setting the phone back to my ear, I said, “Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
A tear in Grandma Davis’ coverlet gave me something to stick my finger into but not something to keep my mind from pondering. If Nick wasn’t responsible for getting back my things and the police hadn’t done it, then who? Surely someone hadn’t broken in, stolen everything and then returned it. But what other explanation was there?
“Send me your location,” Nick said.
I barely held back a gasp.
“I’ll make sure someone is watching out for you.”
My insides deflated to half their sizes. No doubt he’d send Matty again or someone lower on the bear totem pole.
“You’ll be safe, Shelby. Even if I’m not there myself. I promised it would be okay, and it will be. Just give me some time.”
“Oh—” The hollow sound that met my reply told me he’d already hung up. I checked the phone to be sure and found it flashing the disconnect screen.
Well, that had been abrupt.
He hadn’t answered me on why he’d disappeared. But I knew. Didn’t I? He wanted more than animal urges. And I…I wanted him. I just didn’t know how much of him I wanted. If I couldn’t accept all, then I’d have to let go of the few parts I wanted.
Was I ready to do that?
My head pounded, and my shriveled insides ached. All I was ready to do right now was sleep off my buzz and hope the morning brought answers. But the one thing the morning wouldn’t bring was another werebear. I’d keep Grandma Davis’ address a secret.