Suave as Shift

by Keira Blackwood

  He tilted his chin down, and looked at me with that way-too-fucking alluring gaze. My breath caught.

  “The world is twice as exciting after the sun goes down.”

  His voice promised things that he didn’t say, that he was very practiced in excitement, that he could show me. Probably he was practiced in one-night stands with super models and actresses too. What the hell was this guy doing in Barbetta? Standing here, with me?

  Maybe he was some movie star I didn’t recognize, in town to record a scene set in the middle of nowhere. Studios blew shit up in the middle of nowhere, right?

  “Not in Barbetta.” I took a step back and cleared my throat. I needed space to defog my head. “So are you here for a room?”

  “This is the only place in town to get a bed, right?” he asked.

  My first thought was hell no, I have a bed. Roll around in it with me, and show me just how skilled those full lips are. Let me run my fingers through your hair, show me everything in life that I’ve been missing.

  I pushed down the thought. “Yes, yes it is.”

  “All right then,” he said. “Give me your best room.” He pulled a pile of cash from his pocket and set it on the counter. Ones and zeros peeked out from each layer in the thick stack. They were hundreds. Lots of them. It was more than I’d make in a year at this shitty job, enough to start my travels.

  Again, I knew I needed to speak, but my throat was dry. Eventually I managed. “There are no good rooms. The best I can do is—”

  Five-oh-two in progress.

  The noise caught me by surprise. Everything but the police scanner fell into the background. There was finally something happening. Maybe it had something to do with Emily.

  What’s that number mean again, Sheriff?

  Missing person, dummy. Get your ass down to Gas-N-Go right away.

  Right.

  Missing person. My money was on a young woman, just like the other two.

  I had to go. I looked up to finish what I’d been doing. Only then did I realize I was supposed to be giving Mr. Way-too-sexy-for-that-suit a room key so I could get the hell out of here and find out what was happening.

  But there was no one there. The suitcase was on the floor, the stack of cash on the counter, but Mr. Sexybritches—yeah, that was better—either way, he was gone.

  “Hello?” I called. Nothing.

  The bell on the door hadn’t rang, so he still should have been in the lobby with me. Or maybe it had, and I just hadn’t noticed. Where the hell could he have gone?

  I drummed my fingers on the countertop, struggling to stay still.

  I couldn’t miss this lead. This could be it. This could be the way I helped Em.

  I had to get to Gas-N-Go before Sheriff Numbnuts and friends ruined the only chance I had to find out the truth.

  I took the required cash from the stack on the counter and shoved it in the register. Then I held the rest for a hot minute, imagining the possibilities—escape from this job, escape from Barbetta—before doing the right thing and shoving the money in the suitcase.

  Then I dropped off Sexybritches’s bag in room two. I figured I’d give him the keys later, after I found out what was going on. After the dude reappeared.

  When the door shut behind me, and I stepped out into the cool summer night, I was already feeling a little better than I had a few hours before. Absolutely no way did it have anything to do with that smile, or that swagger.

  I had purpose. I had a lead. Letting go of all thoughts of the actor billionaire, or whatever he was, I settled on the truth of the matter. He’d show back up later, and I’d give him the key, but he didn’t matter. He couldn’t help me wake my sister from her coma.

  That was what mattered. First I had to make sure Emily was okay, then I was going to get out of Barbetta. Neither goal had anything to do with Sexybritches or the feeling he gave me with just one hot-ass smile.

  Chapter Three

  Lincoln

  Wind whipped through the open window of my rented ride as I flew down the main drag of the tiny town. Red and blues flashed up ahead, muted by the harsh spotlight over the only gas pump.

  The rental place had only a pink minivan, so I’d taken it. And rocked it with style. With the pedal to the floor, I threw up the e-brake and spun the wheel. The minivan squealed and slid across the ground, coming to a halt just outside the crime scene tape. Like a boss.

  I climbed from the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut behind me. One click of the key fob and...the sliding side doors opened. Two clicks of the key fob, and the fuchsia beast beeped.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” the sheriff asked. Local PD. He was dressed entirely in tan, but his frown wore him. His face was wrinkled with agitation, and his gray eyes seared, but it was the stink of alcohol that struck me first. Then it was the palm of his hand, striking flat against my shoulder.

  I gave him an easy smile and pulled the ID from my pocket. I flashed whatever badge it was with confidence, knowing Leonard had sent exactly the right qualifications for whatever this job was about.

  With a quick glance, I checked my name.

  “Agent Lollygag, CDC.” I said with confidence, before slipping the badge back in my jacket pocket.

  The anger melted from the sheriff’s face, replaced by something else. A squint of skepticism.

  “Whole line of assholes on my dad’s side, way back from the old country earned us the family name,” I said. “I didn’t choose it, but I do bring an air of sophistication. I’m taking it back.” Bullshitting came with the job, and like everything else required in enforcer duties, I was the fucking master.

  “Sure.” He leaned in a little closer than I liked guys to lean.

  With an inhale, I knew exactly what the sheriff was feeling. Although I’d totally understand if it was arousal, because I was fly as fuck, it wasn’t. He had that sweaty smell—not the good kind, the fear kind.

  The sheriff leaned forward again, and I considered taking a step back. His eyes were wide and his voice was a strained whisper. “CDC?”

  “That’s what it says on the ID,” I replied.

  “What does a missing girl have to do with the Center for Disease Control?”

  This time I did take a step back, but just one. Personal space was personal space, and the whiskey on his breath burned the hair right off my sensitive nose.

  I lowered the pitch of my voice to Batman level for bonus authority. Locals ate that shit up. Every time. “That’s for me to determine.” I lifted the tape barrier and stepped inside the lot.

  The sheriff frowned. “You don’t think…”

  I left him to his reflection and took in the scene. It was a tiny gas station with a single pump that looked like it was installed back in the 1800s, or whenever the first gas pumps were actually installed. The paint was chipped, some of the metal rusted, and there wasn’t even a card reader. Barbaric.

  A small patch of concrete graced the lot, but not far past was dirt and stone. I took in a deep breath—country smells, through and through. Swamp and manure were abundant in the already heavy, humid air. A little oil was present, too, and plants. Missing was the scent of blood—without that, I’d say no one was killed here, well, at least no blood was spilled. There was also no disturbance in the stone. No sign of a struggle.

  A small convenience store stood by the edge of the concrete, likely where the missing girl had gone missing from. I went inside.

  There was a large one-way window overlooking the lot, a counter and register, and a few stands of junk food. Little else.

  With a tug, I pulled open the drawer to the register. There was money inside, so not a robbery.

  It was looking more and more like this chick just walked away. Nothing sinister or paranormal about that. Did she work here? Was she shopping? Was she a small child or a grown woman? Hard to say what the story was with just the word “girl.”

  I needed answers to figure out what happened next.

  When I stepped back
outside, I caught the most wonderful scent. Sweet grape soda and vanilla cream—grapecicle. I knew right away who it belonged to.

  And I couldn’t wait to see her again.

  Red and blue lights strobed across the darkness, dulled in the harsh glow of fluorescent overhead lights. And there, behind my van, was the woman from the motel.

  The goddess of my dreams.

  Her thick dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, while her sharp blue eyes shot through me like pins. Light brown skin, playful freckles, legs for days, full lips, and fuller hips—she was exactly my type, save for the fact that she was human.

  To be honest, I had lots of types. Drop-dead gorgeous was my type. But shifters were easy; humans were complicated.

  Being with a human meant trying to hide half of who I was. Caution was not one of my strengths.

  She’d followed the tip from her police scanner, or she’d followed me. The latter stroked my ego, so that’s the one I chose to believe.

  I strolled toward her, but the sheriff reached her first.

  “What the hell are you doing here, Hammond?” he asked.

  Too bad she, too, didn’t have a fake badge to flash. But that’s what heroes are built for, swooping in and saving damsels in distress.

  “I’m standing outside the tape.” Her tone was cold, and she crossed her arms and stood her ground. “There’s no law against that.”

  “There’s nothing spooky going on here,” the sheriff said. “This has nothing to do with you or yours.”

  It was personal, the way he talked to her. What did he have against this woman? Whatever it was, I didn’t care for the way he was treating her.

  I swooped in and stepped between the two, putting my back to the sheriff, and my face to gorgeous.

  “Get out of my—” The sheriff wiggled around behind me.

  “Well hello again, gorgeous.” I put on my most charming smile and gifted her a wink.

  She looked defensive and kept her eyes on the sheriff.

  “There’s something interesting in this dynamic you two have going on,” I said.

  The woman’s gaze shot up to meet mine. Her lips parted as if she were going to respond.

  “Here! Over here!” It wasn’t the sheriff or the beauty who spoke, but another dude that I couldn’t see. His voice was panicked, and cut through the night.

  “Sheriff!” A second voice, also male, came from the same direction.

  The sounds that followed were that of frenzied footfalls and the movement of tall grass.

  I turned.

  They were off behind the building, the two men who’d spoken. Likely they’d found a clue, or the missing child or woman.

  The sheriff took off toward the commotion.

  I looked back to the woman the sheriff had called Hammond, the one whose scent teased sweetness while her sharp gaze promised ferocity, and raised the crime scene tape for her. A tiger was always drawn to the fiercest of women, the fiercest of situations, and the fiercest of fun.

  “After you,” I said, and bowed my head.

  She scowled at me and remained in place. I took it as a challenge I needed to conquer. I loved a good challenge.

  “Who are you?”

  “Agent Lincoln Lollygag, CDC,” I replied.

  She sucked her lips between her teeth, amusement playing in her sparkling blue eyes. “Sounds like a stripper name.”

  Ooh, she had fire, and she wasn’t afraid to show it. After the rapport we’d shared at the motel, I knew I wasn’t done with her. And here she was showing she wasn’t done with me, either. “Not in public, and not for money.”

  A pleasant pink touched her cheeks, a beautiful blush. I wanted to make that happen to her again, over and over. Beautiful and gorgeous didn’t cut it. She was stunning, a diamond in a coal mine. Sharp as glass, hot as the sun.

  “And you are?” I asked.

  “Juliana. Juliana Hammond.” Juliana—I repeated her name in my head. It rolled off the tongue, or it would have, had I said it out loud.

  “A pleasure to officially meet you, Juliana,” I said with a smile. “Shall we?”

  She looked off into the distance, to the field beyond the gas station, before responding. “Yeah, let’s go.”

  Her strides were long but measured as she chased after the sheriff. She had purpose, she had drive. She was a dazzling mystery, and I kept pace.

  “So you followed me from the motel,” I said. “Not ready to say goodbye?”

  Eyes trained ahead, she pulled something from her pocket and offered it out to me in her open palm.

  “You forgot your key.”

  “Of course,” I said, accepting it. “How thoughtful of you.” Her fingers brushed mine and sent a shot of excitement through me. What was it about her that made my heart thunder and my nerves electrify? I didn’t know, but I liked it.

  I was willing to admit it could have been both me and something else that had brought her here. We both knew that she was focused on the commotion, that she had the police scanner for a reason. She’d been waiting for this, whatever this was.

  Maybe she chased excitement for kicks, following the sheriff for fun. I considered asking her, but instead, other words came out of my mouth. Ones I didn’t expect.

  “Let’s work together.”

  “What?”

  That was stupid, and I was on thin ice with the Tribunal for stupid. What could Juliana offer that would help me with my case? Having a human hanging around was a liability. She could get hurt, or she could see me shift. Neither was worth the risk. Still, I’d said the words.

  And I didn’t regret them.

  We reached the sheriff, another cop dressed in tan, and a man in jeans and a t-shirt before the conversation went any further. Maybe that was for the best.

  The men kneeled around a young woman in the grass. Orange hair fanned out around her head, her palms lay on her stomach, and her eyes were closed. She appeared to be asleep.

  Not a child—the missing woman looked to be in her early twenties.

  Looking over the woman, Juliana lit up. Her blue eyes beamed, and her lips stayed straight, but I knew there was a smile inside. Her heart beat a little faster than it had before, and I enjoyed the sound. It was clear that this was what she’d hoped to find. Whatever this was.

  “Lana was just stocking the shelf, like she always does. I was right there, in the shop, just behind the counter.” The guy in the t-shirt ran his dirt-coated hand through his messy yellow hair. “Everything was fine. Normal.”

  “Clearly something was wrong with her, Vince,” the sheriff said. “There had to be something.”

  “But there wasn’t,” the man replied. “She was...we were talking. And I looked out the window and then she just wasn’t talking. Mid-sentence, she stopped. And she was gone.”

  “Well looks like she walked outside,” the sheriff said. “Trauma can screw with memory.”

  “I’m sure of what I saw. What I heard.” Vince’s hands were shaking. “The bell didn’t ring. And there was...she screamed.”

  “I knew it,” Juliana said. She crossed her arms and glowered at the sheriff.

  Knew what? This wasn’t a thrill for the sake of chasing ambulances. There was something more here. She knew something about my case.

  Ha, getting close and inviting her in was the right move. I’d known best all along.

  Juliana was a puzzle I was compelled to figure out. A challenge and the key to my case. I just knew that she would help me solve it. It was a feeling, an instinct that drew me to her. It also didn’t hurt that she could bring a man to his knees with her wit or with a sway of her hips—a dangerous combination.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” The sheriff stood and took a step toward Juliana. I held out an arm, blocking his path.

  “What did you know?” I asked her, keeping my eyes locked with the sheriff’s.

  “This is why the CDC’s here, right?” Juliana asked. “The comas. Three women disappearing and showing up unconscious. This
isn’t a coincidence. It’s something else.”

  “We get it,” the deputy said. “Ghosts, right?”

  “No.” Her shoulders fell, her frustration clear. “That’s stupid.”

  Not as stupid as one may think. There were all kinds of creatures out there hiding in the darkness. I knew. It was my job to hunt them down—defender of humanity, monster hunter extraordinaire, all-around superhero.

  “Three makes a pattern,” I said. “I’m going to need everything you have on the victims.”

  “Victims?” The sheriff scoffed. “Come on now, that’s a stretch if I ever—”

  “Have the files delivered to my room. You can find me at the—”

  “The only motel in Barbetta,” the sheriff said. “I get it.”

  “The CDC appreciates your cooperation in this matter,” I said, then I turned to go.

  I held out an arm for my lovely lady companion, but Juliana was already gone.

  A pang of disappointment washed over me, and just as quickly I dismissed it.

  Either at the motel, or while pursuing the case, I knew I’d see her again soon.

  Chapter Four

  Juliana

  Too familiar. Too much like Emily. Whatever had happened to Lana, it was just like what happened to my sister. The thought was both encouraging and disturbing.

  After seeing Lana laying in that field, I’d gone straight home and attempted sleep. Every time my eyes slid shut, I saw my sister’s face. It was not the peaceful look she’d had while lying unconscious in the street. No, it was the look from before. It was the sound of her scream, her wide and wild eyes. It was her fear, and I couldn’t shake it.

  She wouldn’t just walk away like the sheriff had suggested. She couldn’t have gone that far, that fast. Someone or something had pulled her down, dragged her away, and it hadn’t been an alligator. I couldn’t explain it, but I was sure the truth was out there, just beyond my reach.

  The shoulder I was laying on started getting sore, so I rolled over, chasing the wild dream of a comfortable position, the elusive phenomenon that was an actual night of real rest.