Dirty Deeds

by R. J. Blain

  “Let’s get down to business. Mr. Barnes, you have photographs of the culprits?” Rem asked, giving Wayne his attention. The other cops scattered, and they began investigating the ruins of the truck and my car.

  “I have more than their pictures. I have the names of two of them. They’re part of a lycanthrope-friendly mafia group based in New York. I can only presume they caught a whiff of her scent when we met for coffee earlier today and opted to follow us.” Wayne crouched for a better look at the ruins of my car. “They hit her car to force her to pull over earlier. She tossed the one over his truck into his friend before bailing. I called it in.”

  “Yes, I was notified you’d made such a call,” Rem replied. “Ma’am, do you have any former experience with either man?”

  I shrugged. “My virus doesn’t like the brute.”

  “The brute?”

  “He’s big, he’s burly, and he seems like a rather brutish character to me. Uncultured swine,” I growled. “That’s what he is. He’s an uncultured swine. But that’s too much to say all the time, so he’s just the brute.”

  “Is that the only occurrence?” Rem asked.

  “That I know of.”

  “Due to trauma-induced amnesia, it’s possible your virus could be remembering what you cannot. The virus is intelligent to a point. It definitely is aware of the same strains that created it—and it is definitely aware of the parent strain, or the virus responsible for your infection. While Mr. Barnes’s concern of a male lycanthrope smelling a single female is legitimate, it’s rare several males will gang up together to go after one female without more reason than a sniff or two on the street, especially when she’s keeping company with another male.” After a moment of hesitation, Rem scratched his head and regarded the crashed vehicles with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t add up.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Wayne agreed. “What’s the current probability they’re involved with Joyce’s attack?”

  Rem shrugged. “I wasn’t given information on that. I was only briefed on the circumstances.”

  “Exemptions?”

  Exemptions? Why would Wayne be asking about exemptions? I considered him, huffing my displeasure over the entire situation. When neither lycanthrope spoke, I growled, “What do you mean about exemptions?”

  “He wants to know if he has legal grounds to become violent with any rival males,” Rem replied with a rather wolfish grin. “The instant you established you were uninterested in the rival males, he would have become invested because you haven’t made it clear you’re uninterested in him specifically. That’s how this works. If you want time to think about it, tell him that. Despite our reputation, we can be reasonable, and if he doesn’t respect your space, make him respect your space.”

  I flattened my ears at that, as Wayne kept trying to make me leave my space so he could build his fortune. As nobody needed to hear me whine about that, I said, “Males fight over a single female all of the time. If males needed exemptions for that, we would all be in prison for a long time. Our race would be prison mutts.”

  Rem barked a laugh, coughed to cover his reaction, and shook his head. “Somebody didn’t do a good job with your education, Joyce. You have a set of rules the CDC makes you follow, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, males get rules, too, and they’re probably just as strict as yours. If Wayne wants to pick a fight with other males over you, he needs an exemption. Courting is serious business, and the exemption essentially clears him of wrongdoing if he gets aggressive because someone threatens you. Yes, Wayne, you’ll need an exemption, but it should be a few minutes on the phone with the CDC to obtain one. She hasn’t pushed you out of her turf, and she allowed you into the vehicle with her after she educated those fools. Since she’s not aggressive with you in her turf, they’ll want to keep you around, and they can’t really deny you an exemption under those circumstances. I’ll help you along, as my body cam has caught footage of her temper tantrum for sure.”

  I eyed the mangled truck, huffing over the amount of damage I’d done to it. “It’d be easier to move if it were in smaller pieces.”

  Wayne grunted and shook his head. “If you’ve worked the worst of your temper out on it, leave it alone so it can be evidence. I’ll get a rental for us, although you’ll have to accept me driving due to your claws.”

  “I can transform.”

  “It’s unnecessary. Enjoy stretching your legs. It’s good for your virus to be in your hybrid form for a while. Your virus needs to develop.” Wayne straightened, his eyes roaming from the top of my head to my clawed feet. “Twenty-four hours will probably be long enough to give your virus some room to grow.”

  Francine cleared her throat. “Don’t be an overprotective male.”

  “I’m a beta and helping the pack wolves strengthen their virus is my job.”

  “Oh, a beta. Whatever shall we do? Faint from awe?” Throwing her hand against her forehead, she slumped against her mate. “Spare me from male overprotectiveness, babe.”

  Rem ignored his mate’s antics. “Ignore them both, Joyce. Allowing your virus to develop isn’t necessarily a bad idea, and it’s good for you to have your natural weapons and defenses intact, especially if Wayne is being shy and refusing to show off his wolf.”

  “Wayne? Shy?” I blurted.

  With a soft laugh, Wayne shrugged. “I have my moments.”

  “Sure. I’ll believe that when I see it,” I muttered. While tempted to give the truck a kick, I stepped to the curb and gave myself a good shake. “What happens next?”

  “We investigate,” Rem said, crouching so he could get a better look at the ruins of my car. “You’ll want to get a hotel close by, as I expect we’ll have a lot of questions for you. This sort of aggression doesn’t just magically go away.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Wayne agreed. “It’s probable that any hotel we pick will be damaged as a result of this.”

  “Yes, we will need to notify the hotel of the situation and get their consent to stay in their building. We’ll also leave a plainclothes officer on duty, although that may not prevent violence. It’ll simplify them submitting their report to police, however.”

  Shaking his head, Wayne joined me on the sidewalk and checked his phone before wrinkling his nose and dialing a number. “Wayne Barnes. I need to get an exemption, as I’m a male hybrid lycanthrope, and some assholes have been threatening a woman I’m keeping company with. I have a police officer present and willing to confirm the situation.”

  “I could have called for you,” Rem replied.

  Without bothering to mute the phone or even pull it away from his ear, Wayne replied, “It’s faster if I call, I’d rather the CDC know I’m not in the mood for bureaucratic nonsense, and if I’m denied an exemption, I have an already mangled truck here I can take my temper out on. If I get my exemption, I won’t have to take my temper out on this defenseless truck.”

  “I really did mangle it, didn’t I?” I doubted even the world’s best mechanic could put the damned thing back together again. “If he hadn’t squished my car with his truck, I wouldn’t have had to mangle his truck. That seems fair.”

  “That’s right, Joyce. If he hadn’t crushed your car, you wouldn’t have had to mangle his truck. You did an excellent job with the mangling, too. Ah, yes. Sorry about that. I was praising the lady for her excessive use of force on a truck.”

  “That makes me sound like I’m a violent person,” I complained.

  “You were provoked,” he replied. “Sorry. Yes, I’d like an exemption only in situations where my companion is threatened. What do you mean I have to give you a duration? If someone threatens her, I’m going to retaliate. I would prefer to retaliate legally, but if you want the truth, I’ll do it even if you don’t grant me the exemption. It’d be a lot more pleasant for all of us if I’m granted the exemption. This duration nonsense is ridiculous. Fine. Set it for a year, and then I’ll complain when I have to get it renewed. What do you mean a y
ear is too long? No, not every single lycanthrope woman on this planet seduces her mate within thirty days. If you give me a year, she might not reject me for rushing her. Yes, I’m going to insist on a year, and you may as well renew it. Should we change status, I’ll call you. If I thought she would bite within thirty days, I wouldn’t have asked for a year. Also, you might want to give an exemption to Joyce Gray, too. She does not seem to be in the mood to allow anyone to trespass on what she perceives to be her territory. I seem to have become part of her territory in the past day. I would really appreciate if the CDC did not annoy her into changing her mind. I’m really going to need that year to convince her I’m worth keeping around. She absolutely does not like other lycanthropes.” Wayne scowled, listening to the person on the other end of the line. “Yes. Exactly. For those reasons. I think a year is reasonable, considering the unfortunate challenges I’m faced with.”

  My virus found him amusing, as did I. I could work with a year, especially when I’d been hired to keep him busy for a few days. I’d have to keep my virus contained, but as long as she could somewhat keep him clothed, I could work with her needs and my distrust of other lycanthropes.

  “Okay. Good. Thank you.” Wayne hung up. “Exemptions are acquired. You can call the CDC for the certification numbers.”

  I bet the person had pulled up my record, saw I’d claimed a bounty for Wayne, and opted to play along to make sure my job wasn’t botched. When the CDC dished out the controlled substances for a bounty, they meant business.

  A hit of pixie dust would’ve done me a lot of good, and I retrieved my purse from the store to make sure the precious vials had survived intact. They had. I slung it over my shoulder and gave it a loving pat.

  I’d never been in a situation where I needed violence while high on pixie dust. Would I try to cuddle the assholes into submission? Would I become even more violent if my cuddle session with my preferred target was interrupted?

  Fuck it. I wanted to find out.

  “You’re scheming something,” Wayne announced.

  “Why do you think I’m scheming something?”

  “You’re smiling, and honestly, I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  Huh. My smile scared him? I allowed myself my widest canine grin. “Good.”

  “You have a wicked side, Joyce, and I like it.”

  Of course he did. He was a single male lycanthrope. Nothing about single male lycanthropes counted as sane. I’d just have to do my best to avoid falling prey to his clutches and my virus’s insistence we should keep him.

  “Just find us a hotel, Wayne. One that won’t protest too loudly if I have to throw an idiot through a window.”

  Chapter Six

  To my surprise, the cheap hotels in the area wanted nothing to do with a potential pack of lycanthropes busting up their buildings, but the area’s sole luxury hotel welcomed us with open arms. They did request the presence of a cop on the property; they also printed and signed a waiver stating they understood we might be bringing trouble to their door, and promised we wouldn’t be responsible for any damages.

  Apparently, the hotel had no problem with idiots paying for their renovations, and they wanted to remodel one of their ground floor suites, which happened to boast a spa tub. While I had no idea what a spa tub was, Wayne did, and he practically skipped down the hall to our room.

  “You’re way too excited about this, Barnes.”

  “You will be excited about this once you see what it is.”

  “It’s a bathtub.”

  “No, Joyce. It’s not just a bathtub. It’s a very nice bathtub. If I’m particularly lucky, you’ll invite me to share it with you.”

  I narrowed my eyes, as I’d never been near a bathtub realistically big enough for two people to share. Without missing a beat, my virus perceived the various ways I might use a small tub to catch a single lycanthrope male, and she encouraged me to take advantage of the situation.

  The CDC did not play nicely, and if I figured out who had gotten the bright idea to want to partner me with Wayne, we’d have a long chat about their bad idea of a joke. We came from entirely different worlds, and I didn’t even like lycanthropes. I did like my virus, but only because she’d busted her furry ass to keep me alive.

  I also liked she did her best to warn me against the bad lycanthropes.

  Her interest in Wayne Barnes might be the end of me, though. Or at least the end of my status as a proud single woman.

  Wayne opened the door to our room, holding it for me and gesturing for me to go inside first. Since becoming a lycanthrope, I’d mostly dodged hotels, as we paid higher rates for them due to the high risk of leaving fur in the room, a tendency to destroy things, and then potential for late-night howling. The few times I’d left Long Island long enough to need to sleep somewhere, I’d pulled over at a rest stop to catch a few winks before going on my way.

  I’d never been in such a nice hotel room before. Hell, I’d never been in such a nice house before. From a leather sofa in the living room to a glass coffee table destined to break if I looked at it wrong, it took contemporary comfort to its limits, while offering an inviting atmosphere and excessive air conditioning.

  My virus loved air conditioning, even in winter. She had an easier time convincing me to wear my fur coat when the air had a brisk bite to it.

  Crisp winter air gave her ideas, and she liked our current situation.

  “Is this really a hotel room? I think it’s bigger than my apartment.”

  “It’s bigger than your apartment. Just wait until you see the bathroom.”

  With the choice of three doors, I poked my head into the nearest one to discover the bathroom, which was easily the same size as my apartment with room to spare. The so-called spa bathtub had jets, the faucet was a thin, narrow plate that would cascade into the tub, and the ledge left plenty of room for a full-course dinner and then some. Two could fit without touching each other, and my virus had a lot of ideas about what two could do in it while indulging in a lot of touching. The presence of two shower doors puzzled me, and I stepped inside to discover one was for a massive shower and the other led to a bathroom within the bathroom with a second sink and the toilet. “What the fuck is this?”

  “A luxury bathroom. Do you like it?”

  Under no circumstances would I cry because I could live in the bathroom without a single regret. “There’s a bathroom in the bathroom.”

  “Won’t it be nice if those idiots try something here and have to pay for this bathroom?”

  “Do I want to know how much a bathroom like this would cost?”

  “Probably thirty or forty thousand,” he admitted, stepping into the bathroom and gesturing to the tub. “I’ve put several tubs like this into some of the apartments I manage, and they’re at least five thousand a pop fully installed. They crank my insurance premiums up, too, because they can do a lot of damage if something leaks and nobody catches it. I actually install special sensors beneath all the tubs like this to detect excess moisture. I put a sensor near all common failure points. That saves somewhat on the insurance bills, as the insurance companies reward those who try to limit their claims as much as possible. It’s a lot cheaper to fix a minor drip than it is to fix a busted pipe.”

  I sighed at my furry self. “My fur will clog the whole thing up.”

  Wayne shook his head and gestured for me to join him at the tub. He pointed at the drain which had a mesh cup over the hole. “This model is made specifically for fuzzballs like us. The fur gets caught in that when it drains. If it gets full before it’s done draining, we engage the stopper, clean out the fur, and drain it again. The intakes for the jets also have fur catches, so we just have to clear those now and then and we’re good. A little extra work, but we can enjoy the tub, too. That’s part of why they’re more expensive.”

  “If they try anything, and they damage this room, I will beat them within an inch of their lives,” I growled.

  “I’m sure they’ll try som
ething, I’m sure the room will be damaged, and that’s fine. You can beat them within an inch of their lives. Try to avoid killing them, but should you, well, that’s fine.”

  “But why me?”

  “You’re a single hybrid lycanthrope. Being a single lady hybrid lycanthrope? You’re a treasure. Most packs have to wait decades before a mated woman develops the virus enough to transform. Lycanthrope ladies able to shift significantly strengthen a pack. As the men often outnumber the ladies, and most children of lycanthropes are boys, the ladies are in high demand.”

  I’d been warned single lycanthrope men lost their minds around single female lycanthropes, but seeing it was believing. Rather than tell Wayne he’d fallen completely off his rocker, I prowled through the rest of the suite, discovering it had an office and a single bedroom.

  Either one of us would be sleeping on the couch or we’d be sharing a bed.

  My virus knew which she preferred, and she wanted a hit of pixie dust so she could enjoy it even more. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at my virus’s less-than-subtle hints.

  “Don’t push your luck, Barnes.”

  “But I want to push my luck. If I push my luck, I might strike gold.”

  “Or you might get your ass kicked.”

  “But will you stick around if you kick my ass hard enough?”

  Lycanthropes. Glaring at him resulted in him smiling, another loss for me and a win for my uppity virus. “You’re something else.”

  With a grin plastered onto his face, he went into the sitting room, grabbed his briefcase, and set it on the coffee table. “Before you settle in for your bath, let’s take care of the leasing paperwork. With everything going on, I’d like to get these reviewed, signed, and sent over to the secretary in charge of tracking the leases. It was only good fortune you had your purse with you. It would have been a tragedy if you’d lost your pixie dust supply.”

  “Have you forgotten that grade of dust is high enough to make you my slave?”