The problem with establishing a Shifter Affairs agency in a new area isn’t identifying a shifter group willing to donate land or finding the money to fund the high security building. It’s staffing it with the right agents and assistants. At the moment, West Virginia Shifter Affairs is operating on a skeleton crew. That fact makes planning a drug raid with a handful of agents a failure waiting to happen. We need help.

Ella promised we’d get it.

I maneuver my rental car into the tight spot along the road a couple of blocks from Harper’s Diner. The moment I cut the engine, the rear passenger door opens. A blonde human female who’s drowning in her uniform climbs in.

“Officer Rodrick, thank you for meeting us.” Uri turns in his seat and motions to me. “This is Agent Rick Lyall, and I’m—”

“Agent Uriel Alexander.” The female peels gloves off her hands that are even more slender than Mya’s. “Yes, I know who you both are and what you are. I got the call minutes ago from Agent Montgomery, and I must admit, I’m not happy. Not happy at all.”

“Why is that?” Because I can’t imagine the circumstances where any officer wouldn’t be happy to take out a major threat to the community she was sworn to serve and protect.

“Because I hate being the last to find out about new shifters in my town.” The human’s hazel eyes pierce me. “Each one of you—”

“If you have a problem with shifters, this is not the right assignment for you, Officer Rodrick.” Dammit! I don’t need to deal with this woman’s discriminating attitude. Ella assured me her source at the local police station was sympathetic to shifters. Discovering she’s not puts me in a tough spot. I’ll have to report Officer Rodrick.

“Please, call me Bree.”

She drops her gloves on the seat next to her and leans forward. The scent of something spicy and sweet clings to her. It’s the kind of tempting smell that makes a man want to pull a woman’s body against his and bury his nose in her hair. I have no intentions of doing so. Her beauty means nothing to me, but if she gets any closer, I will have a problem. I won’t take Bree’s scent home with me, even if there’s an innocent reason for carrying it. Mya won’t appreciate smelling another woman on me.

“I don’t have a problem with shifters. In fact, my cousin, Josh, is married to a shifter.” Bree props her elbows on the corners of the front seats and rests her chin on her linked hands, inches from my face. I lean back. So does Uri. Bree smirks but doesn’t move back. “What I was trying to say before you so rudely interrupted me is that each shifter in this area threatens the deep-rooted distrust of outsiders this area is known for.”

“I haven’t gotten that impression. Many of the locals I’ve talked to seem interested in the new federal SA building in their county.” Uri counters Bree’s claim with the same experience I’ve had over the past few days.

Bree rolls her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “That’s because they see money and the potential of jobs.” Bree turns to Uri. “Just look at your cousin Kade’s freakin’ mansion he’s having built, and his twin is slated to have his house remodeled and expanded next spring. Not to mention the other new homes going up in surrounding areas. Those are sweet jobs for a construction area that’s been struggling to stay afloat.”

“When you’ve lived for centuries, you tend to amass money, and Kade likes to surround himself with elegant and dignified things.”

Bree waves off Uri’s words. “I couldn’t care less why Kade is building his mansion.”

“It’s not a mansion. He’s expected to have a home large enough for distant pride members or dignitaries from other shifter groups when they visit,” Uri explains in a voice that suggests he’s had to defend his pride leader’s lavish lifestyle before.

I turn in my seat to face Bree. An ache spreads through my chest, tightening it. I frown at the odd sensation. The claw mark Mya branded me with healed last night. Only the slightly raised edges of the marred skin remain. It shouldn’t ache. But it does.

Ignoring the twinge, I redirect this conversation back to what’s important. “If you don’t have a problem with shifters, we need your assistance today.”

“First, she needs to explain her attitude.” Uri studies her. “There are too many people in this area I need to protect. Those with half-hearted loyalties are a threat to them.”

Bree gnashes her teeth. The sound reverberates within me, unleashing a thump behind my eyes reminiscent of a headache I once woke with after an attempt to drink myself to death.

“You know what’s also a threat to them?” Bree’s raised voice adds to the pressure building behind my eyes. “Having human hunters accidentally shooting your loved ones because they’re hunting on shifter property or the busybodies who stick their noses in everyone’s business and discover something they shouldn’t. Those are threats I can protect you from, but I can’t do that if I don’t know who is human and who isn’t. You all look normal to me.”

“You’re going to protect us from the locals? By yourself?” Uri’s raised brows match his condescending tone.

Hasn’t he learned not to piss off women yet? You would think after his little confrontation with Ella this morning he would think before he speaks. Apparently not. I press the heel of my hand to my temple to counter the pounding in my head.

My mind is too distracted with this impending raid. My future rests on whether I can prove Todd’s dirty and deserving of jail time or death. It’s no wonder I have a headache and an ache in my chest. Being a shifter doesn’t erase the effects of stress.

“I can subtly influence them, steering them away from focusing on your family and friends.” Bree smiles, but it’s not the pleasant kind of grin. If she had fangs, she’d be baring them at Uri. “I make it my business to know my neighbor, Agent Alexander, and I know how to manipulate them.”

“But you didn’t know your neighbors were buying Ambrosia out of a vending machine at the local diner.” Uri voices the thought I had while Bree was boasting about having her finger on the pulse of this area.

“Unlike the two of you, I’m a plain old, ordinary human. I don’t have an animal’s instincts to guide me.” Bree turns and snatches her gloves. Her voice rises another notch. The thump behind my eyes turns into a shooting pain. “But I grew up in this town. I know these people better than anyone, and I’m warning you that if you dismiss the locals as ignorant rednecks and don’t work at involving yourselves in the community, they’re going to turn on you.”

“That I agree with,” Uri announces.

“Wonderful.” I rest my aching head against my seat. “So let’s plan this raid. There are two of us. How many police officers do you have ready to back us?”

“Besides me, you mean?” Bree asks.

“Yes,” I snap.

“One. My partner. He’s in plain clothes at the diner having coffee. Maybe two, if Deputy Rodgers can rescue Mrs. Maples’s cat that’s stuck in a tree. Otherwise, the volunteer firefighters will have to be called and—”

“Two?” How are we supposed to pull this off without compromising evidence or guaranteeing innocents aren’t hurt? I have no idea how Wyatt will react to our visit.

“Yeah.” Bree looks at me as if my reaction is absurd. “What do you expect? This isn’t exactly an area known as a hotbed of crime.”

“Is your partner ready to move once we get there?” There’s no use arguing or debating our actions. We need to act on this today.

“Yes, and I’ll go in the front door with you.” Bree faces Uri. “Can you handle the employee entrance by yourself?”

“Of course.” Haughtiness drips from Uri’s voice. I’m not surprised by it. Heck, it amuses me. Uri’s turning out to be one of the best partners I’ve ever had.

“Good.” I start the car and pull out. My vision blurs. I focus on the road in front of me, driving slower than I normally would.

At the intersection, I lift my foot off the gas. Two streetlights sway in front of me instead of one. I shake my head to clear it. The double streetlights merge. The red light registers. I slam the brakes. The car lurches hard, but we avoid the van going in the opposite direction. I barely missed it. Dammit. I need to be off this road before I hit something. Or someone.

“Shit.” I close my eyes against the realization that I almost caused an accident. The moment I do, the echo of my racing pulse compounds the pounding in my head. I drop it to the steering wheel. The cool leather feels good against my heated skin.

“What’s wrong, Rick?” Uri’s low voice near my ear registers through the thumping in my head.

“I don’t know.” I wish I did. Anxiety is not something I deal well with. “But you need to drive.”

Bree’s radio goes off. The dispatcher relays a series of codes and mentions Mya’s apartment building. I jerk upright in my seat. “What do those codes mean?”

“Domestic dispute and possible kidnapping,” Bree answers.

“Mya.” The regret lands hard in my gut. I should’ve known the odd sensations assaulting me weren’t mine. I recognized them as unusual. Why didn’t I react? “How long ago?”

“In progress. Dispatcher said that.” Uri roughly turns my face to look at him. “Your eyes are dilated, and you’re burning up.”

“Mya. It’s Mya. She’s hurt.” My voice sounds sloshy, as if I drank a full bottle of bourbon.

“What do you mean, she’s been hurt?” Bree shoves Uri’s hands out of the way and tips my head toward her.

Bree is standing in the road next to the car. Has the door open. I didn’t see her get out. “Mya’s a part of me. The best of me. She’s hurt… Todd hurt her. That’s what I’m feeling.”

Uri unleashes a string of vulgar curses. He jumps from the car. In the next instant, he’s at the driver’s door, pushing Bree out of his way. “Climb over, dammit. I can’t drive with your ass in the way.”

“Where are you going?” Bree grabs on to the driver’s door, stopping Uri from closing it.

“Change in plans. We’re responding to the domestic dispute and possible kidnapping.”

“Deputy Rodgers will respond. He’s been out there several times already this year, and—”

“Mya Ammon is Rick’s true mate.” Uri yanks the door, forcing Bree to release it or risk getting her fingers smashed. “We’ll have to come back here later.”

“Go. Go!” Bree steps back. “I got this.”

Uri doesn’t respond. He throws the car in drive, then peels out. “She better not fuck up our investigation.”

Dots dance across my vision. I close my eyes. She’s got to be in agony for me to feel the echo of it. We’re miles apart. Everything I’ve learned from those who carry a piece of their partner’s soul say that distance is a huge factor in how accurate and intense the response to the other person’s mood and pain. So is time. The longer people are bonded, the easier it becomes to distinguish your emotions from theirs.

Mya and I haven’t shared this bond long. I don’t want to lose it. Or her.

My heartbeat stutters. White-hot pain spreads through my cheekbones. I hold my head in my hands.

“Drive faster.” It’s all I can say or do at the moment while I work on compartmentalizing the agony. I can’t allow it to rule me. Mya needs me.

I won’t fail her. Or us. If I do… I don’t deserve to live or love again. Ever.