by C. D. Gorri
Damn, she brought out the beast in him. He bit his tongue to keep the groan from escaping. Too late. The odd looks he received from the shifters milling about WANC—the Working and Administration Networking Core, FUCN’A’s main building—told him he’d been a little too vocal on his trip down memory lane. But what to do now?
Yes, he’d seen the satisfied gleam in her eye, which existed only in females who knew they were driving some poor guy wild. Her plump lips reminded him of ripe cherry tomatoes. Sweet, juicy, and just a touch tart.
Yum. Those were the best kind, in his opinion. The kind he wanted to savor after a long, hard day. He should’ve given in to temptation and whisked her away from it all, but alas, he was bull-headed to the core.
The moment she’d said her name, all his dreams of tomatoes and long afternoons in grassy meadows had vanished.
Fucking hell.
“Samantha Andrews.” He’d repeated it twice, just to be sure. “You’re under arrest.”
The agony he’d felt was incomparable to any other disappointment he’d ever experienced. The shame! Even after all his grandfather had done to make the family legit, the object of Sergio’s newfound affection was a criminal.
Sad moo.
Sergio flashed his identification to the guard outside the door where he’d deposited his prisoner before going to see the director.
“This is a mistake,” Red said as soon as he opened the door.
“No mistake, Red. Let’s go.” He unhooked the cuffs from the bar in the interrogation room on the ground floor of WANC and led her to Tony’s car—turned out he did not exactly fit in the Jersey Devil’s mate tiny sedan.
Once back at the townhouse, he escorted her out and led her inside. Tony’s mouth had dropped, seemingly shocked, when he saw Red in Sergio’s custody.
“What is she doing here? In cuffs?”
“Help! This crazy bull has kidnapped me.” Red tried to run, but Sergio had a firm grip on her elbow.
“Be back in a sec, Ton.”
The man nodded, keeping the rest of his opinions to himself. He dropped the hose he was using to water what looked like a tiny herb garden and went inside his own abode.
Good neighbor, mused Sergio. Minding his business like that. He wished his bull would do the same, but the animal was royally pissed.
Snort. Stomp. Grrrrr.
Sergio couldn’t catch a break, could he? The first female he’d been honestly attracted to in months, and she was a crook. Go figure.
Grrrr. Mine.
Shit.
Evading the stares of the FUC agents on campus had been easy enough, but he assumed he’d take some flak for it later.
“I am telling you this is a mistake,” Red repeated for the tenth time.
“No mistake.” He shook his head, ignoring his bull’s assertion that the female was his and he was, in fact, mistaken. “You are claiming your name is Samantha Andrews, yes?”
“Claiming? No, I am not claiming anything, hay-breath,” she snarled at him, and he was happy to see she’d changed attitudes from frightened to angry. “That is my name! Who the heck are you? And what the heck is going on?”
“Please sit down.”
Saddened by the fact Red was no longer gazing happily at him, Sergio shut the front door and moved to turn on the air conditioning. What he lacked in charm, he made up for in efficiency and dedication to his job.
All evidence pointed to this female being an imposter. If she had any part in the identity theft of one or more shifters, he was going to find out about it.
“Okay, Red, I will explain everything in just a minute.”
“You better! Or I’m gonna have your balls hanging from the back of my daddy’s truck.”
As far as threats went, it was a damn good one. Sergio’s eyebrows raised as he glimpsed the now thoroughly annoyed female from her perch on one of the kitchen stools.
Maybe he should take off the handcuffs? He took one step in her direction, and those amber-hued beauties caught his. Then his little Red snarled, mashing her teeth angrily.
Gulp. Better keep them on, he affirmed. But she sure was cute when she was pissed.
Hubba hubba, agreed his bull.
16
“I can’t believe this!” Sammi stomped her feet, which was extremely unsatisfying considering she was handcuffed to a stupid chair with a foam kitchen mat beneath it.
Sniff.
Hardly satisfying, despite her nice, hard-soled loafers. She’d panicked when getting dressed that morning, business attire not exactly her forte, but her shoes were comfy.
Generally, the hedgehog shifter preferred yoga pants and cotton tees. Trying for casually comfortable, she’d donned a pair of cargo pants and a semi-hideous blouse her cousin gave her last Christmas. It had worked for the office, but after sitting in the same chair for over an hour, the seams and Velcro flaps from all the extra pockets in her pants were digging into her butt and thighs.
Bloody hell.
“Hello! Anyone here?” she yelled, but she was still alone.
The studly bull had upped and left her alone after she’d refused to speak to him. Just plain rude, in her not-so-humble opinion.
To think she’s been attracted to the robotic brute. Hmmpf.
She shivered involuntarily. The AC was on full blast, and while it had been nice at first, she was starting to feel the cold. That only reminded her she’d somehow misplaced her blazer. Just another gift the day had brought her.
Ugh. She looked around, but there was nothing she could use as a blanket in the sterile kitchen. She just had to grin and somehow bear it.
“This is just great,” she muttered to herself.
To top off the total humiliation of being marched out of her new job in handcuffs, Sammi’s blazer had disappeared, and she was stuck in handcuffs waiting for Mr. Personality to come back. The universe obviously is not done messing with me today, she thought, and sighed. How was she ever going to get through this?
So bored. She sighed. The tall, dark, and annoying detective had un-thoughtfully left her in the ice-cold room with nothing to do. She was freezing her chubby butt off in the stupid townhouse.
“Hello!” she yelled again.
Sniff.
Alone. All alone and accused of nefarious activities. What would her mom and dad say? And Aunt Suzi? The possibility that this could spiral into another one of her aunt’s episodes did not bear thinking about.
Embarrassment flooded her, turning her cheeks a bright pink, which though she could not see, she could certainly feel.
But the worst thing of all was the fact her hedgie was convinced the bull was hers. As in hers. Her one and only fated mate.
No. We are not going down that road.
Mine.
No.
Sniff.
Her hedgie could be a real PITA when she got in one of her moods. The minutes ticked by, and nothing. No sign of the great detective’s return.
Sigh. Uh-oh. Great. Now she had to pee.
“Hellllllllllloooooooooooooooooooo!”
The sounds of footsteps moving closer had her head swiveling around as fast as she could move it. Eyes narrowing at the hulking figure she recognized as the thorn in her side, she quieted her beastie, who let out a happy chitter at his return.
Have some self-respect, she scolded her inner animal.
“Are you injured?” he asked.
“No. I am not injured,” she huffed, trying to turn around in the chair but unable to do so because of the cuffs.
“I was only gone for twenty-minutes.”
“You left me alone in this freezing room,” she pointed out.
“Sorry. Ms. Cooper called. It seems FUC was unaware of some of your criminal activities, but after I filled her in, she did some digging.”
“What? Are you insane? This is my career, buddy!”
“Please stop yelling, Red. I can’t think when you scream like that.”
“You would scream, too, if some lunatic kidnappe
d you and handcuffed you. Where is Tony? That was his car, wasn’t it? And his place with Sofia across the way.”
“First off, I am not a lunatic, Red. My name is Sergio Gravino. I’m the DIC in charge of this investigation.”
“Yeah, buddy, I know you’re a dick. Uncuff me, please, I have to pee.”
“Not that kind.” He gritted his teeth in a way that was absolutely adorable, but she let him off the hook that easy. “DIC is short for Detective in Charge. As in me. I am in charge of the joint task force investigation into several identity thefts involving shifters. One of whom has been missing for the better part of a year.” Sergio unlocked her cuffs but refused to let go of her elbow as he walked her to the hall bathroom.
She pretended his warm fingers had no effect as his hold became caressing on her upper arm. Stupid bull. She would not be swayed by his ridiculous sexiness.
Besides, he wasn’t exactly whispering sweet nothings. He was accusing her of something. Of what exactly, she was not so sure.
“After you.” He gestured inside the tiny bathroom.
“Uh, we can’t both go in there.”
“I’m not supposed to let you out of my sight,” he insisted.
“Too bad. I have to pee, and you are staying out here.”
“How do I know you won’t try to run?”
“Where am I going to go? The window is too high for me to reach, and my ass would never fit anyway.” She shrugged.
Being short and curvy was a cross she’d learned to bear ever since she’d grown boobs. She huffed out a breath and bent down, oblivious to the way his eyes bulged out of his head at the sudden glimpse of cleavage her new position gave him.
“Here,” she grunted, pulling off her shoes and handing them to him. “I can’t get far without these.”
“Fine.” He nodded and allowed her to shut the door.
“So,” she called out, turning the faucet on low, “who is this missing shifter?”
Urinating while holding a conversation was one of Sammi’s many talents. Came from all those camping trips her family used to take when she was a hoglet. Sharing a cabin with her cousins had been fantastic fun, but privacy was not exactly easy to find.
“A young gopher shifter named Samantha Andrews.” Sergio’s deep baritone sounded through the door perfectly, and she closed her eyes, the better to enjoy the richness of his voice.
The man was just so gorgeous. But she was still wary. He was different from the type of man she was used to. An American, and a PRIC on top of that. The more time she spent with him, the more dangerous it was to her heart.
“Wait, you just said she was a gopher. But I’m a hedgehog shifter.”
“Exactly my point, Red. You’re an imposter.”
That’s it, she thought with a menacing growl. He might be cute enough to send her hedgie in a tailspin with those big, dark calf eyes, but what gives?
First off, she was not an identity thief. The very idea would send her great-granny, who she was named after, on a vengeful bender against her would-be-mate.
The senior center was aware of Granny’s predilection for revenge and had an extra-large supply of pencil toppers, those little neon erasers, to cover her quills when she was angry.
Sammi might be halfway infatuated with the big bull, but she was not mated yet. Maybe she should let her granny have at him?
Grrr.
Sniff.
Second, why was he calling her Red? That was not her name. Also, she wasn’t a redhead. Well, except for that time in college when she’d woken up to a mass of bright red streaks in her short, spiked hair.
That was on account of her cousin Lola, who’d always dreamed of being a cosmetologist and experimented on Sammi after they’d polished off two bottles of real Mexican tequila.
Sigh. Good times.
Whatever. Sergio didn’t know about that. Not yet. She figured she’d wait for the honeymoon before she sprang any Andrews family insanity on him.
Anyway… The point was this was all a big, fat misunderstanding.
“Look, Serge—”
“It’s Sergio.”
She rolled her eyes, slightly grateful he couldn’t see through doors as she fixed her boobs and picked something out of her teeth.
“My name really is Samantha Andrews, but I prefer Sammi.”
“You have to stop it with the lies, Red. You are only hurting yourself.”
Sigh. The man is thick as a brick. And not in the fun, good times, sex-me-till-I-can’t-stand way. Bloody fucking hell.
Sammi closed her eyes and counted to seven. Five seemed too short, and she never had the patience to make it to ten. That was how seven became her lucky number.
One gaze toward the bathroom window told her she was right the first time. There was no way in hell she could shimmy through it. So Sammi did the only thing she could think of.
She screamed.
17
Multiple pairs of footsteps pounded across the courtyard as Sergio knocked on the bathroom door.
His Red was in there, and for some reason, the gorgeous female was screaming her head off. He didn’t think; he just reacted. One shove with his shoulder and the door gave way under his might.
Take that! His bull snorted. The beast was ready to pummel any foe who thought to terrorize his mate. Only there wasn’t anyone there. Just Red. And she was still hollering like a banshee in some old Irish folktale.
What lungs! Oooh, the possibilities.
He cleared his throat, forcing himself to get his mind out of the gutter. Sexy criminals still got charged with their crimes. They had to pay, just like everyone else. And if she was gone a year or ten, well, he could wait. His bull was that serious about her being the one.
I’ve never been a patient man, but people can change.
Especially when long-term happiness was involved. Problem solved. Sergio agreed waiting was warranted in this situation. For his Red, he would wait a lifetime.
“What the shit?” Sofia squeaked as she ran into the townhouse. “Sergio! Is that Sammi?”
Tony followed soon after. “Doll, you can’t bust in here when he’s questioning her. I told you, he has evidence.”
The Jersey Devil tried reasoning with his wife, but Sergio could tell by her demeanor that the curly-haired female was not having any of that. She was one angry chinchilla.
Yikes.
“I don’t care if he has proof, Tony. Tell him to release her. Now!” she snapped at her mate.
“Sofia! Thank the gods, please help me.” Red sniffed adorably and pushed past him to run to the woman’s open arms.
Sergio had to admit she was good.
Look at her standing there, big eyes all watery, lips trembling. Hell. She was very sympathetic. Sure as heck appeared all kinds of innocent. But he’d been a PRIC for a long time, and an honest face did not always equal an honest person.
Unfortunately for her.
Doesn’t matter. I will wait for her.
His bull lowed mournfully. The silly beast was practically heartbroken. But he was a professional, and he knew shifter law. Best he be the one to bring her in to negotiate her punishment.
“Sergio, what did you do?” Tony’s mate snarled at him, and he winced, noting the sudden change in her natural hue to a more crimson pigment.
Gulp.
He’d forgotten that little result of her mating with a Jersey Devil. Figured now would be the time to do as his Grandpa Sal always taught him when confronted by an angry female. Just stand still and try to go unnoticed.
“Easy now, Sammi, let’s sit down,” Sofia held the still sniffling female close and lead her to the living room.
“It was horrible, Sof. He cuffed me! In public, Sof. You know how I hate it when everyone stares at me,” she said, and he noticed her hair starting to point and curl upwards. “Everyone in the Conflict Resolution & Situation De-escalation Department saw.”
“Don’t worry about that now, Sammi. Now, the good news is Tony tells me Sergio is a DI
C—”
“Yeah.” Red sniffed. “I kind of figured that out for myself.”
Ouch. Cheap shot, Red. He kept the thought to himself, but he had to admire her spunk. She had nerve and grit, and every second he spent with her seemed to tease his senses. Sergio wanted to know everything about the sexy little hedgie. But he had to do his job first. He’d get this thing settled, and then he could see where they landed.
Grrr.
“No, uh, Sammi, not that kind of dick.” Sofia cleared her throat, and Tony chuckled, but Sergio was used to this crowd’s shenanigans and simply took it in stride. “It means Detective in Charge. Anyway, he is here with legitimate cause.”
“What cause? I never stole anyone’s identity, Sof! I mean, why would I intentionally set myself up as me? The wedgie hedgie, for fuck’s sake! I don’t even want to be me half the time,” she cried out loud.
“I don’t know who’s been fillin’ your head with that nonsense, Red.” Sergio spoke up, silencing the other three. “I mean, you may not have been born Samantha Andrews, but we will get to that in a minute. The important thing here is that you, whoever you are, know that there ain’t a damn thing wrong with you.”
When he finished his speech, the room fell into silence. Entirely too quiet for his liking, but it needed to be said. Tony and Sofia exchanged glances, but Sergio’s eyes were locked on Red’s. The female gasped, licking her plump upper lip with that tiny pink tongue of hers until she couldn’t hold his gaze any longer. Sergio breathed out and pushed off of the wall, walking to the window.
Shit. I should not have said all that.
“Uh, okay. Look, we are gonna let Sergio explain the charges,” Sofia continued, and then her stomach grumbled.
“Over dinner,” Tony inserted.
“Then, we will all come up with a solution.”
Two hours later…
“Those were the best tofu tacos I have ever had.” Sergio sighed and patted his finally full tummy.
The other three shifters stared at him, mouths hanging open. What could he say? He could really pack it away for a vegetarian. He was a bull, not a bird.