by Dana Archer
“That’s what I’m guessing.” The human nods. “The promise of drugs is too good for some users to pass up.”
“Or dealers.” Lyla’s voice comes from behind me. She rests her palm on my lower back and leans around me, poking her head between my chest and Rick’s. “Or, really, anyone who wants to make a quick buck.”
“Exactly, Lyla.” The older human nods. “People don’t necessarily care or need to know what’s in those syringes. Somebody out there will inject themselves with it if they think they’ll get high.”
Lyla wedges between our bodies while Rick backs away as if Lyla harbors some contagious disease. She shoots him a confused glower, likely over his abrupt retreat, then turns her attention to the human. “And when they do, they’ll die. I guarantee it.”
“You don’t necessarily know that.” I risk another report for harassment and settle my hand on Lyla’s waist, moving her in front of me so Rick can close the hole in the small circle of bodies we’ve made without brushing up against Lyla and disrespecting his mate by bringing home another woman’s scent on his clothes.
Rick steps into the open space, once again securing our conversation. Or at least keeping it as private as a conversation in the middle of a city street can be.
Lyla tips her head back to look at me. “If it’s the same drug that killed the man back at my office, I absolutely guarantee it’ll kill an ordinary user.”
Respect for Lyla builds within me. Even though we’re doing our best to keep this conversation private, Lyla chooses her words carefully so as not to give away the fact we’re talking about shifters.
I bend my head to Lyla’s. “That’s why you were in an area frequented by the homeless tonight. You wanted to get information from those who are familiar with the background of this other victim. Am I right?”
“Well, yes.”
Another low snarl reverberates in my bones. I share my felines’ displeasure. “Alone? You went out there alone?”
Lyla casts her gaze to the ground and shrugs. “Of course.”
Sliding my hand to Lyla’s stomach, I pull her body closer, sheltering her in my embrace. “Why would you take such a risk?”
Lyla rests her head against my chest and glances into my face. “Because if I didn’t, I’d have to close his case tomorrow. I didn’t want to do that. I knew his killer would strike again. And I was right.”
“But putting your life—”
“Uri.”
Rick’s warning tone draws my attention from the foolish woman in my arms to where Rick’s blatantly focusing on my hand splayed over Lyla’s lower belly. Jerking back as quickly as Rick had moments ago, I curse but don’t get the chance to apologize again. Rick captures Lyla’s gaze. “And what did you find out?”
Lyla worries her bottom lip, then looks from Rick to me and then to the older human watching us intently. “Nothing. I didn’t find out a darn thing.”
The older human glances over his shoulder at the dumpster, where several shifter agents, aka the cleanup crew, are gathered around a pop-up tent, waiting for the command to act, before turning to Lyla. “Then you better make sure they bag that body up and ship it out to your lab. I heard them talking about cremating it tonight.”
“What?” Lyla’s voice goes up a notch. “Standard practice—”
“Doesn’t apply here.” The older human cuts Lyla off. “This is a Category 3 scene.”
Which means this murder has the potential of exposing shifters’ existence to the human world.
The same vulgar curse rolls off both Rick’s tongue and mine. Had the situation been different, I might’ve been amused by the fact we used the same curse word. Not tonight.
“Let’s take a look.” Lyla motions the older human forward as if she’s running this investigation.
The cleanup crew forming a living wall around the ratty tent moves enough to allow Lyla closer to the partially open flaps. A pair of wet, grungy sneakers sticks out the front.
Lyla grabs the flap, then looks to the tall male shifter on her right. “May I?”
“Absolutely, Lyla. You know the drill.”
The familiarity of the men on the scene with Lyla reminds me she’s not as innocent as she seems. Lyla’s been dealing with shifter-related crimes for years. Somehow, she’s retained her goodness too. It’s no wonder I can’t stop thinking about this woman. She’s the epitome of feminine strength—smart, brave, and dedicated. Not to mention gorgeous. Lyla’s the kind of woman any man would be grateful to have at his side.
She lifts the flap and leans into the tent, then gasps a moment later. I drop to my knees next to her and raise the other flap so I too can see inside. Lyla’s holding up a blood-soaked blanket, exposing the gaping, bloody hole in his chest, right over where his heart should’ve been.
Only after she drops the blanket do I notice the wide gash across the shifter’s throat.
“That’s what the hooker reported seeing.” The older human is crouched next to me. He points at the blanket. “The blanket was folded nicely over the victim’s body when the arriving officer got his first look at him.”
“Did he lift the blanket?” Rick asks before I can.
The older human shakes his head. “The cause of death appeared obvious. My officer did what he was trained to do. He reported the death. I happened to be in the office when the call came in and took the necessary steps to contain this.”
“You knew the background of this particular victim?” He had to have. There’s no other explanation for the quick response.
“Yes.” The older human nods. “I make it a point to keep tabs on the homeless in this city.”
“Have you met the new residents, Eddie?” Lyla gives the older human a name, probably something I should’ve found out at the beginning of this conversation.
Eddie shakes his head. “No. They’re laying low. Nobody will talk about them either. But I’m not convinced they actually live here. More likely they have their hands in some of the shady business that goes on in this city. Coming and going. You know what I mean?”
Lyla makes an annoyed sound as she eases out of the tent. “It was so much easier before the tent city was dismantled. We knew where everyone was staying, and the homeless were more comfortable talking then. They had their own support network.”
“You’re partially to blame for that. You do realize that, right?” Eddie laughs while Rick and I exchange similar glances. At least I’m not the only one who feels like the outsider here tonight.
“Eh…” Lyla waves off Eddie’s words. “They would’ve found some reason to shut it down. I was just a convenient excuse.”
“What did you do?” Probably risked her life in some way. Lyla’s brave. Too brave for her own good. She needs someone at her back at all times.
Lyla glances at me with another coy smile. “Nothing really. I brought them food, medicine, and other things that endeared me to many of the residents. I treat the homeless as human beings, not some blight on society. Certain individuals in power didn’t like that.”
“Things that endeared you to the homeless?” Laughing, Eddie shoots her a chastising look that doesn’t match the amusement in his voice. “You mean you gave them booze and cigarettes. Then made them work for their fix.”
“I didn’t make them work.” Lyla focuses on me with a pleading look. “I merely suggested I’d reward them if they helped me keep the city clean, but I worked alongside them, picking up trash or whatever along the sidewalks and alleys. It was volunteer work, and it gave many of them a sense of pride, as if they had some purpose. We used to have fun on cleanup days, dancing in the streets and being silly. It wasn’t work at all.”
I have no problem visualizing Lyla dancing in the streets either. Somehow, it fits her, and I’ve only talked to her a handful of times.
“And the business association worried they’d be sued if a homeless person got hurt dancing or being silly while helping Lyla clean around their properties.” Eddie offers the details that explain why
her attempts at giving the homeless some purpose ended.
Lyla’s heavy sigh slumps her shoulders. “Like I said, they would’ve found some reason to justify taking the tent city down. It was hard to ignore the magnitude of homelessness here when it grew into a city unto itself.”
Eddie shakes his head. “Not to mention the increase in crime. Something needed to be done.”
“Are these newcomers responsible for that increase in crime?” Rick asks the question on my mind.
“We’re assuming so.” Another sigh accompanies Lyla’s response. “The homeless were reporting thefts, harassment, rapes, and assaults. They wanted the city to protect them by assigning more officers to their section of the city.”
“And we’re staffed at the bare minimum. Oftentimes, less than the bare minimum. Budget restraints, you understand?” Eddie’s displeasure over the fact his department is suffering from similar constraints as Shifter Affairs is clear from the scowl on his aged and saggy features. “The business association offered a solution that worked in the budget’s favor.”
“By dispersing the homeless throughout the city.” Just as most cities handle homelessness. They ignore it.
“Yes, where officers are already patrolling.” Eddie nods, then glowers. “At the bare minimum.”
“And let me guess.” My focus strays to the feet sticking out of the pop-up tent. “Crime hasn’t decreased at all.”
“No, it hasn’t.” Eddie adjusts the flaps, ensuring they’re closed around the feet sticking out, then stands and crosses his arms. “Crimes are growing more violent.”
“With fewer witnesses.” While the streets have eyes, not everyone is willing to share what they see.
Rick turns and scans the buildings lining this alley. “Any cameras?”
Eddie laughs, but the sound holds no humor. “You can conduct interviews and ask, but I doubt it. Too many illegal transactions happen here. Hooker’s Lane is only a few blocks away.”
Lyla stands on her tiptoes as if trying to see over the taller men surrounding her and sweeps her gaze over the alley. “Is our reporting witness around?”
“No. We took her statement and released her. She’s a local. I know her and can vouch for her. Her word’s good. You don’t need to bother her.” Eddie motions us forward. “Now let’s wrap this up. Category 3 crimes need to be contained within two hours of arrival on the scene, and I don’t want this wonderfully dedicated crew rushing to meet that deadline. I’d rather they record everything there is to detail.”
“Agreed.” Lyla focuses on the member of the cleanup crew who spoke to her moments ago, a jaguar single shifter from the Lynch family who I’ve seen a few times but have never spoken to. “And the body better be waiting for me in the morning.”
The shifter lowers his chin. “As long as the paperwork is ready when we drop it off. At eight a.m. sharp. Not filled out later.”
While his posture comes off as challenging, the other male’s words make Lyla smile. “You got it, Doyle. I’m hitting the gym at six with your big brother and Sam. I should be back in time to meet you at eight, but I’ll fill the form out tonight and leave it on the desk just in case.”
The jaguar shifter—Doyle—narrows his eyes. “And if it isn’t, I’m not—”
Lyla cuts him off. “It will be. Promise.”
“I’m holding you to that.” Doyle grins, and Lyla laughs.
“Will you punish me if I don’t?”
Lyla’s teasing stirs the darkness I hold, the primitive rage bottled inside me. I have to keep it in check. I’m too dangerous when I let it out. Actions have consequences, some you can never prepare for. It’s best to avoid those situations. Except, the suggestive smile spreading over this other male’s face is an invitation I don’t want to resist.
“Nah.” The jaguar shifter’s gaze slips to Lyla’s lips. “You’d like that too much. I might cut you out of poker night for a while, though.”
Lyla’s chuckle is the teasing kind. “Now, that is a serious threat. I do enjoy beating you.”
The demand I yank Lyla away from this other male, even if he’s keeping a respectable distance between them, is strong. No one should look at Lyla with such familiarity or talk to her as if they share some form of intimacy.
She’s mine.
The thought settles over me, but I shake my head, dismissing it and the consequences of such an idea. I have no room in my life for a female. My twin, who I damned to an eternity of darkness, takes up my every free moment.
I snatch Lyla’s hand and draw her away from Doyle. “If you plan to be in the gym at six, let’s get you out of here.”
Before I give Lyla any other reason to file a harassment claim against me.
Three
Lyla
“The man is a walking sex god.” That’s the only way I can describe a sweaty and shirtless Uri. The massive Royal shifter chosen to be my mentor, even if he hasn’t acted as one in the few weeks I’ve been on the Shifter Affairs payroll, is the epitome of perfection. Of course, he is the flesh-and-blood descendent of a goddess, not a human drug addict like my mom.
“He’s probably also a male whore who takes advantage of women like you.”
My sister’s disparaging comment pulls a sigh from my lips. I grab a towel from the rack outside the Shifter Affairs gym, then glare at Sam. “You’re stereotyping again. That’s not the type of behavior a Shifter Affairs agent should indulge in.”
“I’m only sharing my experience with you.” Sam slips out of her shorts and tugs off her T-shirt, revealing a black one-piece swimsuit and the raised brand seared into her thigh. She shoves her clothes into her tote bag and stashes it in one of the cubbies outside the open shower room. No need for separate changing areas when most of the people using this gym have zero issues with nudity. “I know what I’m talking about. Don’t forget, I’ve been working alongside shifters a lot longer than you.”
Ever since Colin saved Sam from the shifter who kept her as a sex slave. While I don’t want to bring up painful memories, this view of shifters she harbors isn’t healthy. “You’ve been working exclusively with Colin since you joined. That’s not exactly a wide sampling of specimens to base your opinion on.”
Sam cocks her head and looks at me from under her nearly translucent lashes. If that expression isn’t enough to betray her amusement, the smile tugging at her lips does. “Sorry if I didn’t conduct a suitable experiment you’d approve of, but I know how they think, and I know how they view women. We’re dispensable. Something to play with while they’re waiting for their true mate to walk through the door. Simple as that.”
“Basing your views on Colin’s behavior isn’t enough to form that opinion.” No way will I mention the shifter who kept her naked in a cage in his bedroom. The depraved don’t count toward the rest of society. Her owner was sick. Sam knows it. I know it. We both hate Cedric. We just don’t mention it anymore. We accept that what Sam went through defined both our lives.
“I don’t live in a bubble, Lyla. I’m around male shifters more often than human men. They’re all highly sexual. It’s their nature. They do carry the soul of an animal inside them.” Sam motions to the glass wall where Uri’s tight backside is visible. His long, steady strides shake the treadmill he’s running on. “And Royals like Agent Alexander are worse. They have to deal with the primal drives of three animals. Plus, he’s feline. Out of all the shifter varieties, they’re the ultimate hornballs.”
“Hornballs?” I cover my smile and turn away from the glass door in case Uri’s watching me in the mirrored wall. “How do you figure?”
Sam tips her head back. Her mouth moves as if she’s counting to ten. Finally, she focuses on me with exasperation tightening her features and her voice. “They just are. They’re all sensual and graceful like the cats they carry. Their rolling gait and that touch of exoticness they all share is enough to get any breathing woman’s juices flowing. And once they have you all hot and bothered, they just curl their little finger and�
�bam. They got their latest conquest on her knees in front of them.”
“Still talking from personal experience?”
“What exactly are you implying?”
“Well… You do spend a lot of time with Colin, and he’s feline.”
Hands balled at her sides, Sam glares at me. “I don’t view Colin like that. I told you this! Why do you have to bring him up! We. Are. Not. Involved. Have never been involved. Will never be involved!”
The thumping from inside the gym stops. I look over my shoulder and meet Uri’s eyes. I offer him a small nod, hoping to convey that my sister’s shrieking is not something to worry about, then I turn to Sam. “And this is why I keep bringing it up. You are too defensive about him. I can’t help thinking your feelings for him are not as platonic as you keep on insisting, and I’m worried about what working with him is doing to you. Maybe you should put some distance between you and him. Move on, you know?”
“Yeah. Maybe I should.” Sam snags the towel from my hand, then heads toward the indoor pool where Colin was already swimming laps when we arrived. “When you’re ready to cut out, grab me.”
The scent of chlorine hits me, then fades. I stand there a moment more, debating whether I should go after my sister or leave her alone. Knowing she hates talking about personal stuff, I face the training room to deal with my issues. Or, more specifically, the man who gets my juices flowing. He doesn’t even have to look at me either. Breathing in Uri’s scent does it just fine. If he could mimic and bottle that warm savanna fragrance that clings to him, he’d make a fortune.
Shaking my hands out, I push those thoughts aside before they drift to sex. Shifters have an excellent sense of smell. No need to let Uri know what he does to me. Or how I wouldn’t mind dropping to my knees in front of him.
A shaky breath escapes me. I lick my lips. Nope, I wouldn’t mind that one little bit. At the moment, however, I don’t think I’ll ever have to deal with the consequences of giving in to my fantasy. Uri’s not even paying any attention to me. His ground-eating strides are once again shaking the treadmill.