“This does not look like a shack of weeds.”

Despite the dire nature of the situation, Ryan’s lips quirked at Tiberius’s observation. The man said the oddest things.

“I never said it was a shack of weeds.” She looked through the windshield at the small building and seethed. “But it is where Drew keeps the majority of his weed stash.” At Tiberius’s blank look, she added, “Weed. Dried hemp leaves? People smoke it to get high. Also known as Mary Jane, hash, reefer, herb, ganja, and cannabis. Now, we just have to see if he’s hiding his grassy butt in there.”

Reaching past Tiberius, she opened the glove box and took out the gun she had stored there. It wasn’t her department issued pistol, but her personal one. It was only fitting, since she wasn’t officially part of the investigation and because now things had become, well, personal.

Tiberius closed his hand over her wrist as she started to pull the gun from the glove box. “Allow me to approach first and assess the state of things.”

She looked directly into his eyes and said, “Listen closely, because I’m only going to say this once. If you want me to accept you as you are, then you’re going to have to accept me as I am. And what I am not is the kind of woman who sits back and lets her man do all the dirty work. If you can’t accept that, whatever it is we have here is not going to work.”

“It is not you I doubt, but my self-control if something should happen to you.”

Her heart melted a little. Had any man, had anyone, ever said anything so ... heart-melting to her?

His dark eyes swirled with emotion, and she could practically feel the connection between them. If only she could read him as easily as he could read her.

You could if you would just open yourself up to me, Ryan.

Her lips parted in surprise. Tiberius had just spoken to her in her mind! The words were faint, but she had heard them in her head nevertheless. Goosebumps covered her arms, and she felt a tingle of awareness spark deep inside her chest and begin to spread outward.

This was crazy. She was an officer of the law, trained to deal with facts and look at things logically, yet the more time she spent with Tiberius, the more she realized there were a lot of things her logic couldn’t cover. She wasn’t even sure if it mattered anymore. Tiberius had gotten under her skin. So what if he believed he was an alien? Who was she to say he wasn’t? If she was asking him to accept her at face value, shouldn’t she be willing to do the same?

The rational part of her brain kicked back in, reminding her of where they were. Now was not the time to delve into feelings or analyze extraterrestrial origins or fated mates. When this was all over, then she would sit down with a big bottle of wine, or maybe a fifth of bourbon, and sort through it. At that moment, they had more pressing concerns, like finding Quintus and putting the fear of God - and one seriously pissed off police detective - into a certain double-dealing informant.

Ryan gently extracted her wrist from Tiberius’s grasp then patted his hand. “What do you say, Tiberius? Are you with me or not? Because, the more time we waste, the longer it will take to find your friend.”

When a sense of grim determination washed over her, Ryan quickly realized it wasn’t hers. Oddly enough, it was his.

“I will accept that my mate is fierce, as long as she will accept my need to protect her in any way I can. Let us proceed. One day soon, you and I will discuss at length this predilection of yours toward badassery.”

“Did you just say badassery?”

“It is a term Quintus uses quite frequently. That and bamf. Though I have yet to fully comprehend the meaning of that one.”

Speechless, she stared at him as he opened his car door and exited the vehicle, leaving her to follow him. By the time she got out herself, he was already halfway to the secluded shack. How had he moved so fast?

She didn’t waste time trying to figure it out.

Picking up speed, she ran, closing the distance between them. When she caught up to him just outside the shack, Ryan placed her hand on his arm and put her finger to her lips. He nodded, indicating he understood.

They circled the dilapidated prefab out in the middle of nowhere. It was large enough to function as a tiny house, yet small enough to escape serious notice. The lights were off and all was quiet, but the sweet, distinctive scent emanating from within gave Drew away.

Ryan drew her weapon and stood to the right side of the door, while Tiberius took up a similar position on the left. She then knocked and called out loudly, “Police. Open up, Drew. I know you’re in there.”

There was no response.

Unwilling to play any more games, Ryan wrapped her hand around the doorknob and turned.

“It’s locked.”

In one smooth, swift move, Tiberius stepped in front of the door and pushed her to the side. A heartbeat later, he lifted his leg and gave one powerful kick.

Just as the wooden door started to swing inward, a shot rang out, splintering the wood and blasting a hole through the door, slamming it back shut.

“Shit!” Ryan cursed.

Tiberius was holding his arm, blood seeping out through his fingers. He looked furious.

Tiberius looked down at his injury then roared. The sound echoed throughout the area as he charged forward, leaving Ryan behind to follow in his wake.

She was terrified that another shot would ring out and Tiberius would be hit head-on by the next blast, but between one blink to the next, the situation had changed dramatically.

Inside the shack, she found Tiberius holding Drew by his neck, lifting him off the ground and shaking him like a rag doll with the very arm that was bleeding.

“WHERE IS MY BROTHER?” The words were guttural, almost unrecognizable in their fervor.

A chill went down Ryan’s spine. Tiberius was fierce, all traces of refined civility gone.

Drew was sputtering, trying to get words out, but Tiberius had his hand wrapped so tightly around his throat that it prevented Drew from drawing in enough air.

Ryan walked forward, stopped next to Tiberius, and then picked up the shotgun that Drew had dropped and pressed it against his manly bits. If possible, Drew’s eyes bugged out even more.

Fighting the nearly overwhelming urge to see to Tiberius’s wound, she concentrated on her former informant’s face as she stood to her full height next to Tiberius, presenting a united front. “Where did Nez take Quintus?”

“Yuuucnttdts,” Drew garbled out.

Tiberius shook him again. Ryan could feel his rage coursing through her, powerful, dark, and dangerous. She attempted to tap into his thoughts—hey, it had worked in the car—but all she got was a slew of words in a language she didn’t understand.

Placing a gentle hand on his uninjured arm, she said softly, “Loosen your grip so he can tell us what he knows.”

She watched as the opposite happened. Tiberius squeezed even harder, turning Drew’s face an unattractive shade of purple. Or indigo, maybe. It was hard to tell.

“Tiberius, please.”

With a snarl and a growl that made Drew wet his pants, Tiberius loosened it enough so Drew could speak.

“You can’t do this. You’re a cop,” Drew croaked out.

“I’m off the clock,” she sneered. “We know you’re working for Nez, you little weasel. Tell us where he took Quintus.”

“How the hell should I know?”

Lifting an eyebrow, Ryan never took her eyes off Drew as she told Tiberius, “Shake him again.”

Tiberius was only too happy to oblige. Once again, he tightened his grip and shook Drew like a rag doll.

“Okay, let’s try this again. Where did they take Quintus?”

When Tiberius loosened his grip once more, Drew wheezed a few barely recognizable words.

“Docks? Black Eagle’s at the docks?”

Drew nodded to the extent that he could.

Ryan frowned. The docks covered a large area along the waterfront. Searching there would be like looking for a needle in a watery haystack.

“Do you know what part?”

“N-No. I swear.”

Convinced they would get no more from him, Ryan looked to Tiberius and said, “Take him outside.” She handed him the shotgun. “If he tries to run away, shoot him in the kneecaps.”

Drew garbled a protest.

“And what of you?”

“I’ll be right there. There’s something I need to do.”

Tiberius dragged Drew outside, not seeming the least bit apologetic when Drew’s head hit the doorframe on the way. Meanwhile, Ryan took a quick look around the shack. Just as she had suspected, there were packages of weed stacked up everywhere, cut, bagged, and ready for sale.

Ryan no longer cared to hold it as leverage over the man. Drew was officially no longer her informant. And the old lines between right and wrong, good and bad, were no longer as clearly defined as they used to be.

Picking up one of the dozens of wrapped bricks of weed and an old Bic bearing a photo of Mork from Ork, she flicked the lighter and held it to the corner. Once it caught, she placed it near the bottom of the stack, and then lit another, and another. It didn’t take long before the plastic wrap melted away and the weed caught on fire.

As the flames started traveling up, igniting the other bricks stacked on top, Ryan pulled her shirt up over her mouth and nose as she moved quickly and methodically, doing the same to the other stacks stored around the shack. By the time she walked out, there wasn’t a pile left untouched.

Despite his blood-soaked shirt and the fact that she had seen Tiberius get shot, he continued to hold Drew off the ground as if he weighed nothing, a look of disgust on his face.

For his part, Drew was sniffling and sobbing, no longer actively struggling beyond a few ineffectual kicks.

“You better not be lying to us, Drew, or your inventory isn’t going to be the only thing that gets destroyed.”

“Not ... lying. Black ... Eagle ... Oh, God ... what ... did you ... do? You ... crazy ... bitch!”

Ryan exhaled. Her job here was done.

“Put him out of our misery, will you? Nothing permanent, just enough so that, when he wakes up, his precious shack is nothing but a smoldering pile of ash.”

Tiberius snarled, “I should kill him.”

Ryan shook her head. “Too easy. After losing his inventory, he’s going to have a lot of pissed off clients after him. And when word gets out that he’s a two-faced little weasel, playing both sides, he won’t be able to run far or fast enough. Let’s go find Quintus.”

In one smooth move, Tiberius adjusted his stance, pulling Drew into a sleeper hold. Drew tried to fight, but it was useless against Tiberius’s superior size and strength. In less than a minute, Drew was unconscious. They then ran to her car and jumped in.

As Ryan drove away, she gave one last look in the rearview mirror, watching Drew’s livelihood go up in THC-scented flames. She had crossed another line, and this time, there was no going back. If knowledge of this ever got back to the appropriate channels, her career would be just as over as Drew’s.

However, as she looked over at Tiberius, she started to wonder if her career was what mattered anymore. Perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps one large alien mate with super strength, speed, and a burgeoning psychic connection was where her true future lay.

Her life was changing faster than she could blink, but she didn’t care, because somewhere in the last couple days, her priorities had changed, too.