Shifter Starter Set

by Candace Ayers

  “Nilch isn’t a word, and you better not be texting Maxim.”

  I scoffed. “Maxim? Why on earth would I be texting Maxim?” Hey, two could play the totally-denyin’-and-flat-out-lyin’ game. You say you’re not, so I’ll take your words at face value.”

  Mimi leaned over toward us again—those double D’s precariously close to spilling out all over the stack of bar napkins. “Parker, did that guy behind you just slip? Is there a spill back there?”

  I glanced back and saw the guy looking down at the puddle under Parker’s stool. Feeling my eyebrows disappear into my hairline, I looked back at Mimi with wide eyes. “Her water broke!”

  Parker sat frozen, the fear on her features clearly evident.

  Mimi grabbed the bar phone. “Oh no. No, no, no. You are not having a baby in this bar. No way, no how. I’m calling an ambulance.”

  “I’m not having a baby. I’m not having a baby. I’m not having a baby.” Parker was staring straight ahead softly saying the same thing over and over like a chant. “I’m not having a baby.” My friend was losing it. Seriously.

  I glanced down at my phone to make sure my last text to Maxim had gone through. “Don’t worry about an ambulance. Maxim will be here way before them.” That snapped Parker out of her trance.

  “You did text him! You traitor!”

  “Jesus, Parker. Not in front of the baby.”

  “She can’t hear yet… Ouch! She can’t be coming already… Oww! I’m not prepared—HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!” Evidently the labor pains were getting more intense. Parker sucked in a big breath and shook her head. “No. No, this isn’t happening yet. It’s just not.”

  I whistled out a disbelieving sound. “Parker, the contractions beg to differ.”

  Face red, eyes bulging as she glared at me, Parker looked more like a troll than a sweet little bunny rabbit shifter. Not that she’d ever been described as sweet. “Just…give me some water. I just need some water to sip. I’m fine.”

  The atmosphere in the bar was tense. The music playing was too upbeat in tempo—far too jarring for a woman going through labor. We needed to keep Parker as calm and relaxed as possible. Mimi signaled to Sarah, who pulled the plug on the juke box and killed the music. With the whole place suddenly quiet, Parker’s face turned even redder.

  “I’m not ready to be a mom yet. I need a couple more weeks. I’m just not ready!” she grunted through a contraction.

  I grinned and chanced losing a hand by reaching over and rubbing her back. “Yeah, you are.”

  The sound of wood splintering echoed through the bar as pieces of the door exploded into the room. “Where is she?!”

  “Aw, Jesus, he totaled my door!” Mimi rolled her eyes and scowled at Maxim, who took no notice of her whatsoever.

  Parker glared at me. “I knew you were a lying traitor.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, yeah. You’ll thank me later.”

  “No. No, I won’t. I’m not ready to be a mom. I have so much to do, Laila. It’s too soon. What if I screw it up?”

  “Parker, honey, you don’t have a choice in the matter. That little bambino is coming whether you’re ready or not. Besides, you’ve been preparing for this for nine months. You’re gonna be a great mom. A perfect mom. I promise.”

  “I haven’t even finished the nursery!”

  Mimi winced. “I don’t think that little one cares.”

  “I’m not ready! See?! Oh, god.” She swatted at Maxim when he tried to scoop her up. “No, no! I haven’t finished the nursery. I haven’t finished setting up Cybermates! I’m not prepared for her arrival.”

  To calm her down, and to avoid having to listen to any more of her protests, I threw myself on the blade. “I’ll finish the nursery.”

  “Put me down, Max!” She hesitated. “Wait. You will?”

  I nodded. “Uh-huh. I’ll do it tomorrow. It’ll be all ready for baby Stella when she comes home.”

  “What about Cybermates? You’ll finish getting the site up and running, too?”

  I wrinkled my nose. Mimi snorted. “Um, yeah, sure. Of course. Whatever. I’ll do whatever needs doing.”

  “And you’ll go by Gray Lowe’s and make him finish his questionnaire?”

  I sighed. “Gray… Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

  “And you’ll meet with Dylan? He’s the tech guy coming down from Miami to help with the website.”

  “Yes, Parker.”

  “And make sure Gray fills it out completely. I mean, don’t leave until he does. He’s been avoiding me.”

  “I will.”

  “Okay, great.” She turned to Maxim. “I’m ready, babe.”

  Maxim scooped her up into his arms. His face was a sheet of pure panic, but he moved slowly and carefully, as though he was carrying the most precious thing in the world to him—because, well, he was. “Okay, to the hospital we go.”

  “Oh, wait!” She turned to me. “The appointment with Dylan is tomorrow at Latte Love. And I’m serious about Gray. You may have to lean on him a bit. I need a catch like him to draw in the ladies, even if he doesn’t want a mate.”

  I just waved her off as Mimi slid me a shot of whiskey. “She just hoodwinked you.”

  I shook my head as I watched my best friend and her mate leave and head off to the hospital. “You didn’t happen to write all that down, did you, Mimi?”

  Mimi’s snicker wasn’t appreciated, but she refilled my glass as soon as I threw back the shot, so I forgave her. She even left the bottle between us. “I remember the part about you getting to lean on Gray. Which makes you one lucky lady. Every single woman on this island has been trying to lean on something of his—anything of his. That man is fine.”

  I leaned my elbow against the bar and rested my chin on my fist. “I also get finish a nursery, set up a mate matching website, and be Parker’s junior assistant.”

  “What a con artist.” Mimi motioned for the music to be turned back on as Sarah mopped up the “spill” under Parker’s chair. In seconds, Mimi’s Cabana was back to normal as though nothing had ever happened.

  Only, I was suddenly shouldering a huge chore list. I took the liberty of pouring myself another shot before pulling money out of my pocket purse.

  “Leaving already?”

  “There’s no way I’m missing that baby being born. I just let them leave first so I didn’t have to hear Maxim and Parker bicker in the delivery room. He’s convinced that even the doctor shouldn’t be allowed to see Parker’s vagina. I hope they have it all sorted out by the time I get there.”

  “Trust me, no one watching a baby coming out of a hoo-hah is finding anything sexy about it.”

  I shrugged. “I have no intention of being on that end. I’ll be on the hand-holding end.”

  “Let me know what room they end up in. I want to send flowers.”

  “Will do.”

  I strolled out of the bar, feeling excited about the baby, but not so much about any of the other chores on Parker’s to-do list. I’d never met Gray Lowe, but I’d heard plenty about Grace’s somewhat mysterious, reportedly quite handsome, big brother. He was highly sought after by the single women of the island who considered him Sunkissed Key’s most eligible bachelor.

  He was also a wolf shifter—like me.

  Well, not like me. I sighed. No one was like me.

  2

  Gray

  I drove to the south end of Main Street, all the way down to the southernmost tip of the island, and pulled my truck into the parking lot of the storefront space formerly known as the P.O.L.A.R. office. The Sunkissed Key branch of the shifter private ops organization was now defunct—disbanded in an act of retaliation when my brother-in-law had the audacity to choose my sister as his mate rather than go through with the marriage that had been prearranged for him at birth.

  Since I was also out of a job after having been screwed by the government agency I had been working for, the ex-P.O.L.A.R. team and I were setting up a new business venture together. We were still deciding on a name,
but seeing as how I was not a polar bear shifter, the acronym P.O.L.A.R. was a no-go.

  “About fucking time.” Serge was waiting for me out front holding two coffees from Latte Love, the island’s best coffee shop. He handed me one.

  “I’m on time, asshole.” I glanced at my watch to be sure before taking the coffee. “Early, actually.”

  He turned and led the way into the office. “Do you know how much time I’ve been missing with my mate, dealing with all of this?”

  “Hey, a startup is always a lot of work. It won’t ease up until we get it off the ground and iron out any kinks either.”

  The “all of this” Serge was referring to was the work that had to go into removing P.O.L.A.R.’s presence from the building. The organization had long-reaching arms and anything put in by them needed to be torn back out. Maybe it was my years with the CIA, maybe it was my upbringing, probably it was a combination of both, but I didn’t trust anyone or anything—especially not a government agency.

  “I doled out thousands of dollars in tech fees and spent days in here going over every inch of this place, making sure there was nothing left behind. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more bored in my life.”

  Grinning, I just shrugged. “You’re talking to the man shot full of holes who stowed away on a Cuban fishing vessel for over a month to keep a low profile. The same man who’s been forcibly put on medical leave by his sister. I can promise you that I’ve been more bored than you have.”

  “What a sob story. Boo-hoo.” He gestured around the completely bare office. “It’s empty.”

  “The wiring?”

  “Redone.”

  “Walls?”

  With a mighty sigh, he put his hands on his hips and turned to face me. “You think I’m an amateur? Redone. Everything’s been redone.”

  Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a small gadget I usually kept on me, unfolded it, extended the scanner, and started the tedious process of running it over the floor and walls, looking for any type of hidden cameras, listening devices, GPS trackers, and other “spy tools.”

  Serge raised a brow, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched me until I was finished. “Neurotic, much?”

  “You do remember where I worked, right? Neurosis can save asses.”

  “I’ll use that for my next tattoo.”

  “There’s a reason I am the way I am. Nothing wrong with double-checking things to ensure our plans don’t crash and burn before we even get them off the ground.”

  “Are there still people from your past that we can expect to show up?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know.” I folded the tool back up and put it away. “I don’t think so. They burned me and left me to rot. They’ve washed their hands clean of me. I don’t expect trouble, but there’s a long line of shady characters that I’ve managed to piss off through the years.”

  “Another reason your name will be left off any and all paperwork. If we can avoid drawing unwanted attention, I’d like to do just that.” Serge grunted. “So, what’s the prognosis, doc? All clear to start bringing in our own equipment, now? We’ve got an entire office to put back together.”

  I nodded. “I’ll write a check for my part of the costs.”

  “Damn straight, you will. We had a perfectly functioning office before you came in with all your talk about espionage.”

  “Dude, go home to your mate. You need to get laid, man. You’re turning into a whiny bitch.”

  He growled. “Hannah hasn’t left Parker’s side since she went into labor. By the way, I’ve gotten a few texts from Hannah about how worried Grace is that I’m going to, ahem, allow you to be put in the path of danger.”

  Groaning, I shook my head and started toward the door. “My sister…”

  “Yeah, she was pretty traumatized when she found out you’d been shot. She’s pushing hard for you to get a nice desk job, like in a quiet museum somewhere.”

  “Ironically, a boring desk job would kill me faster and inflict far more pain than a bullet.”

  Serge took a gulp of coffee. “She’s pretty protective.”

  “I’ll have a talk with her. She’s not the same after she came to Sunkissed Key to find me. She’s so worried that I’m going to end up dead that she’s practically killing me herself—by suffocation.”

  “There are dangers to what we do, sure.” Serge shrugged. “We’re not humans, though. Chances are slim that any of us are going to die from a little gunshot wound.”

  The ache in my chest could attest to that. Grace didn’t know the full story—I’d been shot multiple times, bullets piercing vital organs, and barely came away with my life. “Our private security firm isn’t going to be anywhere near as dangerous as what either of us used to do.”

  “That’s the plan, anyway. I promised Hannah.”

  His mate would be safe, as far as I was concerned. Everyone would be. Nothing about our new business venture was anywhere near as risky as the work we’d done before. Our new company would provide private security—consulting, risk assessment, checking for potential vulnerabilities at businesses or residences, installing security systems, and one-on-one bodyguard services. Okay, there was still a minor risk when playing bodyguard to a VIP, but most of the time, just carrying an air of menace and a tough, no-nonsense demeanor was deterrent enough. Plus, for the first time, we had full veto power over cases—we chose which to accept and which to turn down.

  “So, let’s get this place set up.” I slapped him on the back and we headed out the back door. “What the hell have you been waiting on, slacker?”

  I heard the massive growl a half second before I felt his body slam into my back. I rolled and jabbed an elbow into the side of his rib cage just as he landed an uppercut to my chin.

  “Fuck, I get why the guys used to beat the shit out of me when they were frustrated with their mates, now.” Serge, grunting, tried to land another blow and, instead, got a fist in the gut.

  I got out from under him, laughing but hurting. I was healed on the outside, but my body was still too tender on the inside for fighting. “I deserved that, I guess.” As shifters, both with large, dominant animals inside, it was natural for us to have a go at one another once in a while. Brawling kept our animals steady and grounded.

  Serge swiped some sand at me and growled. “If our mates abandon us every time one of them gets pregnant or goes into labor, we’re going to fucking tear each other up.”

  “I don’t have a dog in that fight, brother.”

  “Give it time.”

  I scoffed at the thought. I was in no shape for a mate. I didn’t even date, despite the fact that the island seemed to be crawling with ready and willing women. I didn’t need that complication. Not only was I not completely healed physically, there were still mental blocks I had to work through, as well.

  “By the way, did Parker get to you before she went into labor?”

  I brushed sand off of my clothes and shook my head. “No thank god, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. That woman is like a bloodhound. Fortunately, I was able to dodge her. Hopefully she’ll be too busy with the baby in the coming months to follow me around waving her little forms in my face.”

  He laughed and shoved off the ground. Standing tall, he held out his fist and I bumped mine against his. “No hard feelings?”

  “Hey, no worries. You need my help setting anything up?”

  He shook his head. “Nah. Alexei and Dmitry are taking charge of that. Actually, I think I’ll stick around and help. I need something to do to distract me from the fact that I’ve been abandoned by my mate until Parker gives birth.”

  3

  Laila

  Jammie’s Salon was owned and run by Jammie herself. Seventy-something, wrinkle-free, and boasting a head full of hot pink hair, the woman was a force to be reckoned with. No one knew her real name, but the story was that she’d been nicknamed as a youngster by a babysitter for her love of strawberry jam. Even her salon reflected her bubbly, bright, and upbeat pe
rsonality, a trait that ensured repeat clients and low staff turnover. I could personally vouch for the fact that Jammie was a great employer.

  I’d worked as a stylist at Jammie’s since I’d graduated from Sunshine School of Cosmetology at the age of twenty-two, so for almost eight years. Even though I was pushing thirty, I was one of the youngest here. Besides Jammie, there were a few other seventy-somethings, still kicking ass and learning new tricks daily. Margie, a senior citizen with a blue streak through her spiked snow-white locks, was the colorist. She was known for doing the best dye jobs on the island. Kitty, also a senior, had ebony skin and short copper curls. Kitty had magic fingers when it came to intricate styling like updos and braiding. Prom hair? Go to Kitty. New color? See Margie. And for a cut—whether you wanted a trendy, cutting edge ‘do or a classic, timeless style—I was your girl.

  October worked next to me—she was the baby. Fresh out of high school with poker straight black hair, she was still finding her groove and learning what she was best at. I’d seen a few styles that she’d done. They were amazing. The girl had true talent. Her black, stiletto nails, black lipstick, and dark eyeshadow were alarming to some clients who came in, like Mary Beth Jones, a local preacher’s wife.

  I kept having to remind Mary Beth, who was currently sitting in my chair, to keep her head straight. She couldn’t stop glancing at October, whose name I wasn’t sure was given at birth or at puberty. I was almost at my wit’s end and ready to smack her upside the head with a round brush when she finally spoke up.

  “I think I’d like my hair like hers.”

  October looked up from her client’s head and raised her eyebrows. Okay, that took the room by surprise. Mary Beth had light-brown curls that were so tightly wound they resembled mattress springs.

  “That color, you mean?” I prayed she meant the color, not the style. I’d be happy to see her go jet black. She’d look a little edgier than was her norm, but the contrast would be striking.