Chapter Eight
Grisham forced the barista’s right arm behind his back, yanking upward and putting a strain on his shoulder. Using his hold, he spun the man face-first toward the break room wall. The man cried out, barely catching himself with his left forearm before his face slammed into the plaster.
Leaning close, Grisham barely contained his rage. “Tell me why you did it,” he demanded. “Why’d you poison my coffee?”
According to Emmanuel’s tests, the coffee meant for Grisham had been dosed with a nearly lethal amount of arsenic. Even drinking half of it would have put him in the hospital for quite a while. As it was, Graham had been lucky he’d only had a sip, ending up just staying a day so the hospital staff could pump his stomach, run an IV, and stabilize him.
Grisham was beyond incensed.
“This is police brutality, man,” the wiry, blond-haired barista whined. “You’re witnessin’ this, right?”
The employee of the café—Karl Esterson—peered to the left toward Eban, who’d shown up at the hospital and had given Grisham the report. After discovering that his coffee had been dosed, Grisham had wasted no time in returning to the scene of the crime and confirming with the manager who had been making drinks at that time. A quick background check had told Grisham all he’d needed to know—Karl had a gambling problem, and he was deep in debt.
A perfect guy to be bought by someone... the only question was who.
Grisham intended to find out.
Eban leaned against the wall, acting as a guard for the door. Peering at his fingers, he pulled out a nail file. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Karl,” he stated, cleaning under his fingernails. “You should probably tell the good detective what he wants to know. Maybe then he’ll go easy on you.”
Gripping Karl’s left shoulder with his free hand, Grisham pulled upward on his right arm, knowing it put more strain—and caused more pain—on him. “I’m waiting for an answer, Karl,” Grisham snarled. “I have footage of you putting that shit in my cup, and my brother is in the hospital. Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll make sure you’re drawn up on a lesser charge than attempted murder.”
A whimper escaped the lean man, then Karl finally nodded. “My bookie caught pressure from the cop he bribes. The guy wanted you out of the picture, and since you come here often, they picked me to spike your drink.”
A chill swept down Grisham’s spine. What the fuck? “What cop? Bribes for what? Underground gambling?” He tried to reason it out, since that was what Karl was into.
“Y-Yeah. I’ve had a string of bad luck, so I owe a lot of money. My bookie was gonna wipe my slate clean.” Karl glanced over his shoulder at him. “It wasn’t personal. I don’t have a problem with fags, but the cop, man, he does.”
“I want the guy’s name,” Grisham demanded, leaning closer. “What cop? And who’s the bookie? You tell me, and I’ll make sure you get a good deal from the DA.”
Hell, if Grisham took down an illegal gambling ring that no one knew about except a crooked cop, then it would definitely look good on his resume. He glanced toward Eban, who didn’t appear to be paying any attention to them. It suddenly hit Grisham exactly how useful help from a secretive group could be.
As long as they’re always on the up and up. But I can impress that to them.
So far, Grisham hadn’t seen them do anything totally illegal.
Sure, they talked about it. Just gotta keep it all talk. Right?
Grisham felt he could do that... or at least, close enough to it.
“I know the bookie as Ronald Burchuon. I heard the rumor somewhere that he’s funded by that billionaire... uh, Armando something, but don’t know if it’s true,” Karl babbled, obviously spilling his guts. “And I only heard the cop’s last name. Some guy named Bronson. He’s a homophobe. That’s why he wanted you dead”—Karl glanced over his shoulder, fear in his eyes, as he added—”at least that’s what Burchuon was grumbling about when he gave me the arsenic.”
“Fuck,” Grisham muttered angrily.
“You know who he’s talking about?” Eban asked. Evidently, he’d been listening after all.
Grisham eased his hold, pushing Karl’s arm lower and clapping his cuffs on his wrist. Grabbing his second arm, he swiftly did the same with that one. He gripped the man’s wrist and upper arm, pulling him away from the wall and turning him.
Meeting Eban’s gaze, Grisham nodded. “I have a fair idea. I didn’t know he was crooked, but it makes sense to me.” Scowling, he shook his head. “When the captain put a reprimand in his file when he overheard him bullying me, it must have been the catalyst for him going off the deep end.”
“Do you know who this bookie is?” Eban asked, pulling out his phone. “I’ll put eyes on him until you can organize your people.” His lips curved a little, and his eyes gleamed with a cold light. “Don’t want him finding out about Karl’s arrest and spooking him.”
“Where does Burchuon take bets out of?” Grisham asked Karl.
When Karl answered, Eban placed a call. In seconds, he had a couple of guys headed out to keep an eye on the man. Grisham placed his own call, asking Lawson Maunder—a researcher for the department that he trusted—to start compiling information.
Grisham led Karl out the back door as discreetly as possible.
* * * *
Cuzco scuttled along the bottom of the ocean floor, weaving between rocks and skirting along coral patches. His reddish body skimmed along the sand. The pale-blue suckers of two of his arms wrapped around a clam.
Patiently, Cuzco pried open the shell, bit by tiny bit. Once wide enough, he oozed inside and ate the muscle. If the octopus could have vocalized, he would have as he enjoyed his tasty treat.
While Cuzco technically didn’t need to eat while in octopus form, his cephalopod enjoyed it. Plus, it was a simple matter to fill his tiny belly as opposed to his larger human one. Along with that, things were easier in animal form... time passing steadily without dealing with the fear and tension of human emotions.
Cuzco had just finished his treat and was easing out of the shell when the back of a long, dark-green tentacle skimmed across his body. Instinctively, he folded in on himself even as he turned to peer toward the appendage. Relief filled him when he recognized the fellow shifter in squid form.
William.
The massive giant squid floated along the ocean floor, dwarfing Cuzco’s tiny octopus. The creature’s eight legs held it in place, a few of them wrapped around rocks embedded in the sand. One huge eye focused on Cuzco’s small form, and he used his pair of longer tentacles to herd Cuzco toward shore.
Cuzco went willingly, figuring the beta needed something. While normal coconut octopuses were solitary creatures, as a shifter, he enjoyed the petting. He returned the favor by using his own legs to caress William’s appendages, returning the affection.
When they reached a depth of about thirty feet, William drew away. Cuzco peered at him, watching, then realized the pod beta was shifting. Deciding he’d need to form words, Cuzco continued up toward the beach until he swam in water about ten feet deep, then he shifted, too.
By the time Cuzco had resumed his human form and was treading water, William swam beside him. “Hey, William,” Cuzco greeted, bobbing in the ocean. “What’s up?”
“You’ve been swimming longer than you thought,” William told him while pointing toward shore. “Your mate is waiting.”
Surprise filled Cuzco. Spotting the setting sun on the horizon, the rays causing the water to gleam, he realized William was right. He peered toward shore and swept his gaze over the beach.
A figure sat on a blanket, and Cuzco started toward him. “Thanks,” he called over his shoulder as he swam swiftly.
“Of course. I’ll be around if you need anything, keeping this section of the beach clear.” William laughed behind him, shouting, “Go get ‘em, tiger!”
Cuzco felt his cheeks flush, knowing he blushed but unable to do anything about it. Over the past few days, Grisham had been scarce, putting in loads of extra hours to close the case of not only the attempted murder which put Graham in the hospital—thank the gods Graham was home again and feeling better—but also putting together all the evidence needed to take down the illegal gambling ring. That also meant putting away Detective Bronson.
Through phone calls with his tired-sounding mate, Cuzco had learned the detective had actually been under surveillance from Internal Affairs. It had certainly helped speed things up, which Cuzco appreciated.
As Cuzco drew closer to shore, his breath caught in his throat. He felt his blood heat as he admired his mate. Grisham had his knees bent, and he leaned back on his elbows. He wore only a pair of form-fitting, navy-green speedos. His legs were slightly splayed, and the setting sun caused his tanned skin to appear to glow.
Finding his feet, Cuzco waded toward his lover, meeting his twinkling gaze. “Wow,” he murmured, exiting the water. “You look amazing.” Cuzco swallowed hard. “So gorgeous.”
Grisham grinned up at him from where he sprawled on the blanket. “Oh, I think that’s my line,” he rumbled, sweeping a hungry gaze up and down Cuzco’s nude body. “You’re stunning, baby.”
Cuzco’s skin warmed under Grisham’s blatant regard. His blood flowed south, swiftly filling his prick. Swallowing hard, he struggled to keep his breathing steady as he stopped before his mate. He hesitated just an instant before kneeling between his human’s spread thighs.
“So glad you think so,” Cuzco murmured, peering at Grisham from beneath his lashes as he sat back on his heels. He rested his hands on Grisham’s calves just below his knees, squeezing lightly. “I missed you.”
A few days were too damn long.
Grisham growled softly, his eyes becoming heavy-lidded as he spread his legs wider. “I completely agree, Cuzco. That’s why, now that I’ve closed these cases, I’m taking a much-needed vacation.” Rocking forward, Grisham grabbed Cuzco’s upper arms. He used the momentum to swing Cuzco to the right, tumbling him onto his back while Grisham rolled with him to sprawl over him. “For two weeks, I’m all yours.”
Cuzco’s pulse thrummed through his veins as he peered up at Grisham. Excitement pulsed through him. “Really?”
Nodding, Grisham bracketed Cuzco’s head with his arms and grinned down at him. “Yep. I figure that’s plenty of time to move my shit into your condo, fuck until we pass out”—he pecked a kiss to Cuzco’s lips—”and finish our bond.” Grisham winked before lowering his head and whispering into Cuzco’s ear, “Plus, I totally want to meet your octopus. I hear you’re so fucking cute.”
Even being called cute, Cuzco couldn’t drum up any indignation. His body felt on fire from all Grisham’s suggestions. He struggled to catch his breath as he gaped up at his grinning human.
“Y-You’re gonna move in with me?”
Grisham sobered for an instant, his eyebrows drawing together. “I know you didn’t technically ask, but that is kinda the message I got from your fellow shifters. You find your mate, bond with him or her, and then you move in together”—dipping his head, his expression grew serious—”unless I misinterpreted something.”
A giddy excitement surged through Cuzco. “No,” he murmured breathily. “You didn’t misinterpret anything. I just”—he nibbled his lip a second as he stared shyly at Grisham—”um, just didn’t think you were open to that much change, yet.”
Humming gruffly in the back of his throat, Grisham grinned at him. “Well, I’m not a detective for nothing,” he stated, waggling his brows. “I know a damn good thing when I see one.” Lowering his head, Grisham landed several slow sipping kisses to Cuzco’s lips. “And I happen to think you’re the best damn thing I’ve experienced in a long time, Cuzco.”
Whining softly, Cuzco tightened his hold on Grisham’s shoulders before sliding his hands over his smooth flesh. “Never gonna let you go,” he panted out between kisses.
“Good,” Grisham said with a grunt.
Then to Cuzco’s surprise, Grisham pulled away. He rolled back to the left, landing on his back. After shoving down his speedos and kicking them away, revealing his thick, engorged shaft, Grisham leaned further to the left. Grisham slid his hand between the folds of a towel and came away with something.
Grisham grinned broadly as he held up the item.
Lube.
Spreading his legs wider, Grisham beckoned with his free hand. “Come here, baby. Let’s get this party started.”
For a few seconds, Cuzco just stared. When Grisham wiggled the lubricant again, he scrambled to obey. Rolling over, he settled between his mate’s spread thighs, flushing their groins together.
The deep moan that erupted from Grisham’s throat was sweet music to Cuzco’s ears. His blood fired through his veins as he rutted slowly, gliding his erection against his human’s. Reaching out, he grabbed the tube of slick.
Cuzco paused, taking in Grisham’s hungry, heavy-lidded gaze. “Once I claim you, there’s no going back,” he said, knowing he needed to offer at least one more warning.
Grisham rubbed his hands up and down Cuzco’s sides. “Oh, my handsome lover, there was no going back the day I sought you out.” His eyes filled with warmth as he held his gaze. “And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Me, either,” Cuzco whispered.
“Good,” Grisham crooned. “Then fuck and claim me, my mate.” He glided the fingers of one hand up Cuzco’s neck, tracing the knobs at his nape. At the same time, Grisham teased the top of his crease. “Then I’m going to do the same to you.”
Moaning and trembling in Grisham’s hold, Cuzco nodded eagerly. “Hell, yeah.”
Then, Cuzco did as his mate demanded. Relishing every grunt, hiss, and moan that escaped his lover, Cuzco knew that the rest of his life had never sounded so sweet.