Chapter Two
Rafael grinned as he watched his former squad mate try to get comfortable in a red vinyl chair about two sizes too small to fit his massive, bear shifter frame. Not that Rafael was much smaller than the other man but being a panther shifter gave him an uncanny knack for settling comfortably no matter where he sat. Something he delighted in making obvious as Connor glared at him across the Formica table.
"You know, we could've gone to a steakhouse," Connor grumbled.
Rafael shrugged, a graceful movement of his shoulder as he picked up his coffee mug. "I like the coffee here. Besides, you're the one trying to woo me. Shouldn't I pick the location?"
A faint blush crept across Connor's face, clashing with the man's bright orange hair. "Dammit, I'm not wooing you. I'm offering you a job."
Rafael waved a hand. "Semantics. Come on then, convince me that I want to give up a fantastic career as a vagrant stuntman and become a mall cop instead."
Connor ignored the attempts to provoke him—which Rafael found rude—and pulled a packet of papers from the inner pocket of his suit coat. He tossed the papers on the table and they slid to a stop in front of Rafael. A low whistle escaped his lips when he saw the numbers printed there.
In the five years since they finished their tour of duty, while Rafael spent his time traveling and burning through his hazard pay, Connor had been busy building a private security firm from the ground up. Day One he'd tried to recruit Rafael, but the panther had needed some processing time and he'd turned him down through the years. It had been slow going for Connor's firm, but eventually, Animus Security gained a solidly reliable reputation. Connor had assembled an impressive team—all shifters—including another of their old military squad. Every year, Connor made Rafael an offer that the man refused.
This was the first time the number on the offer letter gave him pause. His gaze flicked to Connor's face to find the man grinning at him.
"It's been a very good year." Connor's voice rumbled deep in his chest.
"Apparently." Trouble was, it had never been about the money. Rafael was proud of what his friend had accomplished and knew that Animus Security was a company a lot of people like him, shifters and humans, would kill for the chance to work for. It would be exciting work with plenty of chances to let his panther run free. And he'd be part of a team again. A pack.
And they'd rely on him.
Rafael suppressed a shiver at the thought. No, it was better to go on adventures on his own, taking odd jobs where he could find them on oil rigs and fishing boats or a movie set when he missed city living. Alone. That was what he deserved.
His panther growled at him, tail twitching in displeasure. The big cat didn't like being alone and didn't approve of the solitary life they'd led. Except for the fishing vessels when he could sneak as much fish as he liked.
Lately, his panther had been more and more restless. He hadn't been able to stick with a six-week contract without the undeniable need to go...somewhere. The trouble with having a giant cat living in your head was they were about as helpful communicating as any other cat. Which was to say, not very. He didn't know what the panther wanted except not what they'd been doing.
Maybe he should give Connor's offer some thought this time. After all, it wasn't like there'd be too many team assignments with the security firm. He could make sure he only took assignments he was comfortable with. Which would prompt Connor to ask why he didn't take any of the team jobs and Rafael would have to sit through another round of hearing how the botched mission wasn't his fault.
That's the truth. You should listen to our bear friend. His panther grumbled, still annoyed with him.
Rafael placed the offer packet back on the table, indecision warring inside him. He was saved the need to answer when a low buzz sounded from Connor's jacket. The man frowned and tugged his cell from his pocket. Glancing at the screen his eyebrows shot up.
"Sorry. Got to take this. Take a minute and think, though, yeah?" Connor tapped his phone screen and lifted it to his ear. "Mickey? What's going on?"
He stepped away from the table, not that it really mattered with shifter hearing. Out of nowhere, his panther leaped to its feet and began an anxious prowl in the liminal space it lived. Rafael's heart raced at his animal's low growl, rumbling at a constant rate, its tail lashing around as it stalked. Rafael was overcome by a sudden anxiety, a fierce need to take action. To protect. There was danger and he needed to do something about it, or else...or else what?
He scanned the cafe but nothing had changed. The bored college kid behind the counter thumbed idly through her phone. A businesswoman scarfed her sandwich, looking through a file folder. A dad walked up to the counter with two kids in tow that loudly demanded ice cream. Nothing seemed off.
So why was his panther freaking out?
"Alright," Connor said, bringing him back to the moment. "I'll take a look and tell you what I think. What's the address?"
Rafael took a few deep breaths, but they didn't do him any good. His panther was wound tight, ready to spring into action.
"Got it. I'm not too far. I'll call as soon as I've got an update." Connor ended the call and tucked his phone back into his pocket. He returned to the table but didn't sit back down. "Sorry about that. Old family friend needs a favor."
"Anything serious?" Rafael asked, hoping he managed to keep his expression neutral.
Connor raised an eyebrow at him but didn't comment. Successful enough. "Apparently a couple of thugs were hanging around the dance studio his senior center takes classes at. He's worried about the instructor."
"And that's worth the director of an influential security firm going to take a look at personally?"
His panther growled at him for saying that and Rafael blinked. What the hell was wrong with the cat?
Connor grinned in that easy going way he had. "Like I said, friend of the family. And I'm nearby. Sorry to cut our meeting short, but I hope you'll—"
"I'll go with you." The words were out of his mouth before he could think too hard about them. As soon as he said it, though, his panther calmed down a bit. At least one of them knew what the hell was going on.
"Really? Why the change of heart?" Connor looked as surprised as Rafael felt.
He shrugged as he stood, gathering the offer letter. "Number was finally worth considering. No guarantees. But let's see what sort of work I'd be getting myself into."
He motioned for Connor to lead the way. Connor still looked surprised, but it would have to do. What was he supposed to tell him? That his panther was in the middle of a panic attack? That wouldn't do either of them any good. Better to find out what was going on, then decide what to do.
A constant growl of Hurry pushed him forward.
They took Connor's vehicle—an enormous SUV dipping more into military than a civilian machine had any right to—since he knew where they were headed. The bear seemed content to travel in silence, but an anxiety he couldn't explain kept Rafael uncomfortable in his seat, drumming his fingers against his knee and overall unable to sit still. That alone would drive the normally calm Rafael crazy. Add in his panther's frantic pacing and he was ready to lose it.
Was this sort of thing normal for shifters? Panthers didn't stick with packs as much as other shifters. His parents raised him well, taught him to shift, to hunt, to blend in like a human. But they'd been private and proud people who didn't much care to hear questions they didn't already know the answers to. After a while, he stopped asking. And it wasn't like there was a college course to teach him the basics. Inner Animal 101 at Shifter University. Would their mascot be a human?
He grinned, but the sense of unease persisted.
"I take it jobs don't typically roll in this way?" Rafael asked, as much for a distraction as he was curious.
Connor chuckled. "Ah, no. Not the sort of thing that falls into my lap. Standard procedure would have a job coming through with a contract and an agreed upon cost. Mickey, well, he's been a friend of the family since long before I came around. He was good to my parents when they needed it. Plus, the guy's pushing eighty, but I wouldn't put it past him to try and step into a fight if he wanted to defend someone."
Rafael shook his head. "So this one is pro bono?"
Connor grinned and shrugged.
"Hope you're not the one managing the finances at Animus. Anyone with a good enough sob story would get free work out of you."
Connor laughed, easing them through heavy midday traffic. "You won't find anyone on my team that would disagree with that. Don't worry. I've got a crack accountant that makes sure we all get paid. She's smart. And cute. An eagle shifter. You'd like her."
"Not another one," he grumbled and stared out the window.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Connor said, trying to sound offended.
"Only by now that you've tried to set me up with every shifter in the city. Let it rest, man. I'm not in the market for anything right now. Besides, it's Simon you should be worried about. Fiancee dumped him."
Connor's face fell. "Another one? Damn. I hadn't even heard he'd found a new girlfriend. What was it this time?"
"Turned out she liked women more than she liked Simon."
Connor sighed. "Poor guy."
Simon was another member of their military shifter squad, the closest thing to a pack that Rafael had ever known. They'd been inseparable. Until Rafael had gone and screwed it up, betraying their trust. It was easy enough to let life pull them apart by the cracks he'd made. Simon fell in love a few times and ended up chasing a girl across the world so he could get his heart broken in London. Connor threw himself into his career, building up Animus. Neither of them had much room for friendship. That was just how life went. Packs weren't meant to stick together as much as everyone thought.
His panther growled.
"Fuck," Connor muttered.
Rafael looked up and a spike of adrenaline shot through him. They'd turned a corner to find half the street blocked by a police barricade. Half a dozen squad cars parked at all angles, lights flashing, outside of a place called Donnell's Dance Studio. An ambulance parked close enough to the door that it was mostly on the sidewalk, its rear doors closed. A chill ran through Rafael. Either no one needed help or they were beyond it.
"Guess Mickey's gut feeling was right," Connor said in a grim voice, pulling to a stop behind one of the squad cars. "Come on. Let's see if we can find any good news to give him."
They got out of the car and his panther was in full scale panic, leaping around invisible walls in his mind. They reached the police tape and a young officer held up a hand to stop them.
"Sorry, sirs. No entry. Once we have an update the Chief will make a statement."
Chief? That was a bit unusual.
Connor pulled a wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open to show the officer his ID. "Molly Torelli is my client." Connor's voice was hard with no hint that he spoke anything but the truth and left no room for argument. "I need inside that building."
Molly must be the dance instructor Connor's friend told him about. His panther's anxiety built to a painful pressure and it was all he could do to keep from shoving the young officer to the side and running for the studio.
The officer studied the ID before his eyes flicked to Connor's face in surprise. He nodded, lifting the tape to let them pass. Rafael nodded to him like he did this every day, aware that his casual jeans and t-shirt wouldn't blend as well as Connor's tailored suit. As soon as they'd passed the officer, he turned toward Connor.
"What the hell was that?"
Connor grimaced and didn't meet his eyes. "I've secured a few government contracts that'll get me into the places I need to be. Let's just say there might be a few hefty NDAs in your future if you take me up on the offer. You have a lawyer? I can get you one, as long as you're not concerned about a conflict...of interest."
His voice trailed off as they finally got a look at the front of the building. The exterior glass wall of the studio had been reduced to shattered pieces of what it had once been. Jagged bits of the front windows clung to their frames like ragged teeth. A stray bullet had hit the glass at enough of an angle to stay lodged in the window and shattered it like a spider web. Pock marks lined the walls on either side of the studio and most of the broken glass had fallen into the interior.
"Drive by," Rafael muttered, expression dark. "I thought your friend said the thugs were inside."
He sighed. "I should've known Mickey wouldn't call me about something simple. Come on. Let's see who's alive."
Since Connor had the clearance, Rafael let him take point. Even though his panther wanted him to pounce through the busted out window and take on whatever threat was making it crazy. Whatever was in the studio better calm the animal down or he was going to lose his mind.
The place looked even worse inside. Broken glass spattered across the polished floor like stars. The bank of mirrors along the back wall had mostly survived, though one had a massive crack bisecting it and another joined the glass on the floor. Light scattered and danced around the room with every flash from a crime scene tech's camera. Near the cracked mirror, with a tiny evidence marker was a spatter and pool of blood.
"Ow!" cried a male voice.
Rafael glanced over, grateful for the distraction from what the combination of bullets and blood could mean. Off to the side of the dance floor sat a collection of mismatched office furniture. A huge man dwarfed a metal folding chair. Even seated he nearly came to the same height as the paramedic examining a gash on his forehead. Next to him a man in a dark suit paced.
"Knock it off," said the pacing man, arms crossed across his chest, straining the shoulders of his navy suit, tension radiating from him. "It's a scratch."
"I got shot!" The big guy grumbled.
With the men were two paramedics and a handful of officers. At least one of them was a detective in a slightly rumpled trench coat and the one closest to them had to be the chief. She stood nearly six feet tall, her stocky build pure muscle and her black hair cut close to dark skin. Based on the fists at her side, she wasn't happy with what she was hearing. They approached and her frown turned on them. If she was surprised to see Connor and a stranger at her crime scene, she didn't show it.
"Sullivan," she said to Connor, addressing him by his last name. "Do I want to know why you're here?"
Another paramedic crouched next to a woman seated in a chair, taping a bandage along the shapely curve of a leg. Unable to help himself, Rafael's eyes traced the line of her calf as it disappeared under the hem of a vibrant purple dress.
The curves continued, dipping in at a dimpled knee and flaring along full thighs and magnificent breasts, straining the fabric that covered them. A shiver ran through him and if his fur had been out it would be standing on end. A bandage on her arm caught his attention, red staining the cloth. She'd been hurt. Rage flared through him at the idea of someone causing distress to this perfect woman. His eyes flicked to her face and the promise to kill the bastards that did this died on his lips.
Because at that moment, wide brown eyes met his and Rafael's life changed forever.
His panther finally settled, sitting demurely with its tail wrapped around its legs as it purred.
Mine. My mate.
"Oh," he breathed. "Fuck me."