by C. D. Gorri
The students who’d been firing on her all seemed to suffer from some kind of mishap or other. Their weapons had developed a malfunction or ten after firing on Sammi. It seemed some guns jammed. One bow was strung too tight, and the arrow wound up going backward, impaling the archer. Other guns backfired, and one grenade imploded before the tosser tossed it.
Gulp.
Ironically, after a few days, Sammi got some good news. She passed the course. Not with an A, but a pass was a pass in her book.
No one could blame Sammi for what had happened. At least not directly. So, what if she had a little allergy to violence? Everyone had their own strengths and weaknesses. She was eligible for full FUC duty.
But after waiting several weeks with no placement offers under any Furry United Coalition mentor agents, Sammi had no choice but to accept she’d blown it. She tried not to feel disappointed. But how could she not?
Sammi had made a mess of things.
Present-day at the Academy…
“Well?”
“Well, what?” Sammi was looking over online job listings. If she wasn’t going to be able to fulfill her two-year commitment to FUC, she’d have to get a job fast to pay back her training.
“Earth to Samantha! I mean, hello, I am trying to talk to you,” Sofia Leeds, formerly Pelosi, dropped her biodegradable fork in exasperation.
Uhoh.
Sammi must have missed something important. The chinchilla shifter would never voluntarily put down her fork when she had a plate of Maude’s meatless meatballs sitting in front of her. Sweet marinara sauce on the side, the delectable vegetarian delights were tempting even to an omnivore like Sammi.
Technically, it was Tofu Taco Tuesday, but Maude always seemed to keep a stash of the little fried goodies on hand whenever Sofia was there. Her chinchilla friend got special treatment from the hare shifter whenever she was on campus and in the cafeteria. Which was often these days.
Come to think of it, Sofia looked a little bit rounder and softer these days. Sammi scratched her head, sighing aloud when she came across a lock of her thick hair sticking up in wild disarray. Her dark locks tended to mimic her spiny beastie’s quills, and though she tried extra hard to tame them, it was a losing battle.
“Um, Sof, why all the meatballs?” she asked gently.
“Duh, Sammi. I am pregnant. Which brings me to the point of this lunch.”
“Really? Congrats,” she screeched then faked a frown. “So, wait a minute. You didn’t just wanna hang out and see if I could scarf down ten of Maude’s tofu tacos without puking?”
“OMFG, shut up. You will so puke.” Sofia laughed. “Seriously, Tony wants me to really take care of myself during this pregnancy, so I am thinking of taking a leave of absence. Well? What do you think?” Sofia asked, and it was obvious her bestie was repeating herself.
Oops. Sniff.
Hedgehogs were well known for their tendency to pick up emotions in the scents of others. Her own sow was ciphering through the myriad of flavors to gauge Sofia’s emotions. Judging from the citrusy tang in her usually sweet smell, Sofia was annoyed.
“Uh, did I already say congrats?”
“Yes, Samantha.” Sofia tsked. “You know, ever since the first day you walked into my office as a young cadet needing my guidance, I knew there was something special about you,” she said, but her eyes kept straying to the top of Samantha’s head.
“It’s my hair, isn’t it?”
“No, no. Um, okay. Yes, but just a little bit. Here.” Sofia blushed. “Uh, sorry. You just got a little…” The chinchilla shifter leaned forward as far as her gently protruding belly would allow, and to Samantha’s horror, Sofia licked her hand, using the flat of it to try to pat down Sammi’s spikes. “Uh, okay, well, that is a bit better.”
“Did you just mom-lick me?” Sammi whispered, shocked by the occurrence.
“Um, yes?”
“First, I get denied a car loan for some secondhand sedan that wasn’t even anywhere near my dream car, but I thought I could afford it, and now this? A mom-lick? In public, Sof? Ugh.” Sammi’s eyes widened at her friend’s actions.
Sniff. Oh, the humiliation!
She’d just been treated to a quick spit-fix from her bestie. Is this what her life had become? Her inner hedgie shivered at the thought. It was unimaginable. Her beautiful spines were meant to poke and defy gravity.
True. But she would rather her hair not mimic the deadly little pointies. An unfortunate side effect of being a hedgehog shifter with a short fuse to full-on panic mode.
Sigh.
“Um, yeah, okay. I think I overstepped. I apologize.” Sofia blushed a furious shade of pink before clearing her throat. “Anyway, Sammi, the point is I think you would be great.”
“At what?”
“At my job. I am going to recommend you as my temporary fill-in.”
“Wait, what?”
“Look, you said yourself being a FUC agent isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Sofia said with kindness shining in her eyes. “Maybe helping cadets be all they can be is more your speed.” She nodded.
“Oh, I never considered—”
“Well, then start,” Sofia said sternly. “This way, you’re still working for FUC, so you don’t have to pay back your training and allowance. Besides, I know you are going to be the best Conflict Resolution & Situation De-escalation Counselor FUCN’A has ever seen!”
“I am?” Sniff. “Yes, I am!”
5
PRIC Headquarters, New Jersey
* * *
Twenty-four hours after the explosion where Julietta DiCarlo was rescued…
Sergio was still at his desk at PRIC headquarters, filling out forms and updating the inter-agency task force on what went down at the warehouse that day.
For shits and giggles, he also added in his current progress on the identity thief and how he believed it might tie into their other case. They had to be connected. He felt it in his gut.
He was in the process of plotting out the timeline of events, as far as he knew them, when he was interrupted. The sound of Italian leather loafers and the scent of fresh cannoli cream reached him.
Holy mother of cheesy pastry goodness.
Sergio sniffed the air, and his stomach growled. Damn, that smelled good.
“What’s doin’, Serg?” Tony Leeds approached with a white pastry box that looked suspiciously like it came from Bear Claw Bakery.
The man wore his usual black-on-black getup with a shit-eating grin that told of his recently found happiness.
Looks good on him, Sergio admitted to himself and wondered what brought on such a positive change in his coworker’s demeanor. His interest was fleeting, however, in favor of more important things. Like his growling stomach.
Far as he knew, the world-famous bakery did not make Italian pastries, and yet… He was definitely not mistaken. The subtle scent of sweetened impastata ricotta perfumed with the zests of fresh lemons and oranges, mixed with miniature chocolate chips was indisputable.
Sweet heaven. He was practically drooling on his paperwork. A bull his size needed to eat regularly to keep his energy up, and he’d run out of carrots hours ago.
Grrr. This time the growling noise was from his stomach, not his bull.
Sigh. How embarrassing.
“Tony.” He nodded, eyes on the box that he now knew bore the Bear Claw Bakery’s world-famous logo.
Gulp. The goodies were so close. And yet, just out of reach.
“I came to see you personally, my friend, to bring you a token of my thanks.” Tony placed the box on Sergio’s desk.
Sergio’s bull growled happily. Or was that his stomach again? Either way, he was two seconds away from ripping into the cardboard, or maybe just chewing through it. But manners, which had been beaten into his thick head by Grandpa Sal with many a wooden spoon, dictated he say thank you first.
Sad moo.
“No need to thank me,” Sergio said, though he accepted Tony’s hand, shaki
ng it briefly, before turning his attention to the delectable goodies.
Damn. He was starved. Patience gone, he ripped open the box and groaned aloud. Six of the hefty-sized delicacies sat inside.
“Holy shit, they’re cannoli-cream-filled bear claws!”
His voice was laced with awe. But how could it not be? Such culinary delights as this deserved to be applauded.
Happy moo.
He sighed, and yeah, a little bit of drool might have actually escaped his lips this time around.
“Yeah.” Tony grinned. “They’re doing them up now after I made a little request for the reception Grandmother Leeds gave us last month. Calling them Tony’s Special,” he added proudly. “I missed seeing you there.”
“Oh.” Sergio grimaced, stopping with the first bear claw halfway to his mouth, to the infinite sorrow of his stomach. “Sorry, man. I was on a case.”
“Figured as much. No worries.” Tony exhaled. “You found my sister, and for that, I am eternally grateful. By the way, this is my wife and mate, Sofia,” he said, introducing the small female who joined them.
The curly-haired woman walked directly to his side with a contented smile on her face.
Sergio grimaced. He loathed having to pause in his attempt to scarf down the pastry once again, but it was necessary. Polite smile in place, he wiped his hand hastily on his shirt before shaking hers.
“Ma’am.” He tried to hold on to his smile, but he really, really wanted to eat the sweet-smelling, drool-worthy pastry. Like now.
“Sergio, right? It is so nice to meet you.” She nodded. “Thank you so much for rescuing my sister-in-law. I was just on the phone with her, and she was asking for you.”
“Oh. Nice kid. I’m glad she’s okay,” he murmured halfheartedly.
Was the entire world conspiring to stop him from indulging in the sweet treat? But he knew better than to express his grief. Sergio just nodded again and complimented the couple.
Yes, he had manners. Contrary to popular belief, growing up on a farm did not mean you were an animal.
Snort.
“You can’t imagine how worried we’ve been.” Tony sucked in a breath to hide the depth of his feelings. “We were so relieved when news came that you found her. This is personal for me, bruthah,” he added, Tony’s Jersey accent changing the word brother as only natives of the Garden State could, to Sergio’s utter amusement.
“SCARAB is responsible for a lot of harm.”
“Indeed, bruthah,” Sergio agreed.
His lips quirked at their exchange. It never ceased to amaze him how thick his accent got when talking to a fellow Jersey boy. They tended to drop the r at the end of words, while adding an ah kinda sound.
So, brother became bruthah, water became wawtah, and so on. Sergio himself was guilty of similar verbal intonations. And he was even known to favor colloquialisms.
6
There was only one stereotype he hated, and that was the notion that people from New Jersey called it New Joizy. No Garden State native said that. Not ever. And if someone tried to claim they did, well then, his bull was more than happy to set them straight.
Grrr. This is one proud Jersey bull, bitches.
“I am sorry for that, Tony. I’m real glad she’s safe now,” Sergio added.
“Sofia and I were still in Vegas. You know, honeymoonin’. The ink wasn’t even dry on our marriage license when we got the news. Fuckers nabbed Julietta right in a public parking lot.” He shook his head, and anger turned his face red.
For a moment, Sergio worried that shit was about to hit the fan. Then Tony’s wife pressed closer to his side, and the man’s beast seemed to ebb with the pressure.
“Tony, it’s not your fault,” she whispered.
Sergio dropped the pastry back into the box. He could eat later. Besides, he fully empathized with the relief etched on Tony’s face now that his sister was safe and sound. But more curious to the bull was the way his peer held the small, curly-haired woman close to him.
They looked complete in a way his bullish heart had never expected to witness. As if she were born to be at the man’s side. Two halves of a whole. Sergio nodded, but his heart squeezed enviously. That shared look on their faces told him everything he needed to know about the situation.
The rumors were true. Tony Leeds had found his fated mate while visiting the Furry United Coalition Academy, or FUCN’A as it was known—the N being for newbies.
Even Tony Leeds, Jersey Devil, and womanizer extraordinaire, has a fated mate, thought Sergio, with no negligible amount of astonishment.
She was so much tinier than the broad-shouldered, dark-haired man. Her head barely touched his chin. But she seemed neither afraid nor reluctant. Astonishing. Was that truly how these things worked?
Opposites attract. That was what people said. Looking down at his own incredible size, Sergio shook his head. He sure as fuck hoped that saying was true. Otherwise, he’d be mated to a Mack truck.
Snort.
Didn’t matter. Not really. As long as his mate was someone who loved him, Sergio didn’t care what she looked like. He’d just recently started feeling his years and the loneliness that accompanied being a PRIC.
Sad moo.
“I know, doll face, but she’s my kid sistah. I feel responsible. Don’t matter now though, huh? This big lug found her. She’s safe now, ain’t she?” Tony said, interrupting Sergio’s thoughts.
He watched the man lean down to nuzzle his mate’s cheek, dropping a soft, gentle kiss on her lips. Lucky SOB.
Sergio felt his face heat. He turned away to give them a little privacy. He was starting to feel like a creep for spying on the couple. Looking down instead, he exhaled.
The breathing courses did come in handy now and then, he assured himself. Waiting a beat before facing the newlyweds once again, he immediately noticed something odd in the way Sofia kept a protective hand over her stomach.
Holy crap.
Realization dawned, and his bull snorted once more. He didn’t need to be a detective to realize she was expecting. Shifter pregnancies were always a cause for celebration, but Sergio would keep that to himself until they offered to share their news.
Farm needs young to keep it going. Someday, he thought to himself. Maybe someday soon, his bull hoped.
Being near the two of them, so happy and in love, only seemed to make his own solitary state that much more glaring.
Shit.
He wasn’t thinking about finding his own mate. Not for years yet. Right? No way. He had too much on his plate to worry about that.
Grrrr.
Unfortunately for Sergio, his bull did not quite agree. His inner animal was tired of his self-proclaimed grazing habits. He wanted a mate of his own.
Double shit.
“Well, uh, thanks for dropping by. And like I said, this was all completely unnecessary, but appreciated.” He stood up, ready to escort the happy couple right out the door.
The two lovebirds were contagious insofar as making his usually peaceful inner bull a raging maniac looking for love. Sergio was not interested. Period.
Best he stayed far away from mated couples for a while. At least until this sudden surge of hormones was over.
“Nah, Sergio,” Tony said, gripping his shoulder with a surprisingly strong hand. “Of course, I need to thank you. You saved my sister, and now you’re family.”
“Uh, yeah, okay. I appreciate that, Tony, but I am sure you and the missus have better things to do—”
“Yeah, we were on our way back to visit Julietta.”
“She still in the HOLE?”
“Yeah. This Dr. Finn says he needs to do more cognitive tests.”
“I see. Well, good luck with that.”
“Say, did you ever figure out how your identity theft was related to this kidnapping? I mean I’m sure this is SCARAB. Crime scene photos showed the same beetle etched into the cornerstone outside the warehouse.”
Tony’s devil peeked through his red
dening eyes, and Sergio figured he could share some of what he knew with his fellow PRIC.
“You know, I can’t divulge what I’ve learned in an ongoing investigation.” Sergio shook his head. “But I will say this. I have an idea brewing. Soon as I follow up on some solid leads, it will only be a matter of time.”
“Fair enough.” Tony squinted.
“Sorry I have no more info for you, Tony,” he said.
“Nah, I get it. You’re a good PRIC to have around, Serg.”
7
One thing Sergio didn’t fuck around with, and that was the rules. No detective working for PRIC ever got away with bending the regulations and directives.
Except for Tony. But now everyone knew he was the boss’ grandson. Some griped, but not Sergio. He didn’t have two shits to give either way. Tony could do whatever Tony liked, and Sergio would keep doing what he liked. Long as he toed the line and got results.
He always did like rules. They were neat and tidy.
“Tell you what, Sergio.” Tony turned back to face him. “I’m not sure if you heard, but I opened a field office up in Canada. Just a little PRIC headquarters up north. If you ever need a change of scenery, make sure you come see me. Anytime you want, bruthah.”
“Sweet,” Sergio replied. “Thank you for the offer, Tony. I might take you up on that.”
After the happy couple left, and his bull settled down, Sergio looked over his completed timeline and grabbed the pastry that had been evading consumption.
Mmmm. The first bite was pure bliss. Now, where was I? Oh yeah.
He’d been called in to investigate the misuse of Bernadine Spirito’s granddaughter’s identity a couple of months ago. Through that investigation, he’d discovered the five other cases that resemble the Spirito identity theft—including the one involving the missing gopher shifter, Samantha Andrews, and her grandmother.
Julietta DiCarlo, mouse shifter, had been abducted roughly twenty-eight days after he’d started working the case. Nothing new or striking there.