03 - You Only Live Nine Times

by E A Price

  She nodded without paying attention. It was one of the things that put Raf off immediately about her. Sure she was pretty – gorgeous even – and he had been kind of interested based on looks alone, but a short conversation with her was enough to wilt his dick. For one thing, she didn’t listen, merely nodded like a bobble-head until she found a chance to change the subject and talk about what she had been thinking about the whole time. For another, she hated non-humans about as much as the captain. Bigotry really wasn’t an attractive quality.

  “So what time does your shift end?”

  “Actually, it already has. I was about to head out.” His bed was beckoning him.

  Georgia brightened. “Me, too. You wanna go grab a drink?”

  He held back the groan. She was persistent if nothing else. “Actually I’m pretty beat. I’m gonna go home and get some shut-eye.”

  “Well, I live in the same area as you, perhaps you could give me a ride home – since you’re going in that direction anyway.”

  Fuck. Think of an excuse, think of an excuse… The last time he gave her a ride it had been nearly impossible to dislodge her from his car. She wouldn’t get out until he agreed to go on a date with her. Thank heavens for that call from dispatch. Otherwise, he’d probably still be there arguing with her. He’d never been happier to get a call out to a double homicide. Even Georgia couldn’t hold out against that.

  “Shit!” Detective Barnes slammed his phone down, making everyone in the office look round.

  Raf gratefully took that diversion to slip away from Georgia’s tentacle-like grasp. “What’s up?”

  “I just got a call from patrol; they want me to go and investigate some weird shit at a cemetery.”

  “Some weird shit?” repeated Raf, as a scowling Georgia walked over to join them.

  “Yeah, they were sketchy with the details. I’m on call, but I got a date with the weather girl from Channel Ocho y Ocho.”

  Johnson looked up with interest; chocolate smeared all over his pudgy chin. “Holy fuck, you got a date with Lola Sanchez? No wonder you’re pissed. That woman’s fucking hot. Whenever it’s going to be above eighty, she does the weather in a gold bikini.”

  “Don’t remind me,” grunted Barnes.

  “If it’s weird just call the SEA,” suggested Georgia, tired of listening to a conversation about how a woman other than her was hot. “Let those freaks deal with it.”

  Barnes chewed on his cheek. He was a pretty conscientious guy, except when it came to work interfering with his love life. Raf could tell that he was torn so he knew what he had to do. “I’ll handle it, you go on your date.”

  The detective looked like he’d just been told Santa was real. “Really?”

  “Sure, I got no plans.” And it was better than the alternative, he thought, glancing at Georgia’s unhappy face. “But you gotta give Georgia a ride home.”

  Georgia’s tried to object. “That’s not necessary…”

  “My pleasure,” said Barnes with a wink.

  Raf gave her a triumphant smile. “There you go, problem solved.”

  Georgia forced a ‘thanks’ through her tightened lips and stalked away to grab her purse. Whew, close call. “So where am I going?”

  *

  “Igor! Hurry, I hear people coming.”

  “Doctor… the body…”

  “We don’t have time for the whole thing, grab the other arm, we need to go.”

  “But the grave…”

  “We don’t have time! Hurry!”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  *

  Raf shivered as he tried to concentrate on the groundskeeper. He wasn’t so sure this was a good plan after all. Sure he’d escaped Georgia’s clutches, but hanging around a cemetery at night, getting wet and trying to get the details about a grave robber out of a surly, old mole shifter? Yeah, he wasn’t so sure it was a good trade.

  The groundskeeper, who insisted his name was Shep, lived in a hut on the edge of the cemetery. He had been performing a routine check of the gates when he found that one of the chains had been cut with bolt cutters.

  “And then what did you do, Mr. ah Shep?”

  Shep gave him an incredulous look. “Then I called you guys. What the fuck did you think I would do? I only maintain the grounds – if anyone tries to steal any of the bodies, that’s your fucking department.”

  “Alright, Mr. ah Shep, there’s no need to get testy.”

  “I’ve already been through this with those idiot patrol officers; they seemed to think I should have just run off into the cemetery playing G. I. fucking Joe. I told them, I sure did tell them, that catching bad guys was their department. They think that just because I’m a shifter that I should be pumped up and ready to take down thugs like a fucking MMA fighter.” Shep looked down on his short yet rotund figure. “I’m a fucking eighty-two-year-old, gardening, mole shifter for goddess’ sake!”

  “I’m sorry, Shep, you’re right,” said Raf as soothingly as possible. And he was right. Patrol officers had a tendency not to take shifters complaints as seriously as humans. There was an attitude that shifters should take care of any problems they encounter themselves. Which didn’t bode well last month when three huge, human thugs were robbing a weasel shifter’s antique store. The weasel shifter was currently suing the department for their lack of action, and although he hated to feel disloyal, Raf couldn’t blame her.

  Shep relaxed slightly, perhaps surprised by Raf’s admission. “Well, the other cops went this way, follow me.”

  The mole shifter set off at a startlingly fast rate; Raf puffed and panted to keep up with him. Not to mention how easily Shep navigated the many headstones and monuments. Raf almost cracked his jaw on a low flying angel statue.

  Shep chuckled. “Sorry, my eyesight’s poor so I have this whole cemetery mapped out in my head.”

  “No problem,” grunted Raf, rubbing his shin that had caught the edge of a cat statue. Apparently the deceased was a beloved father, husband and puma shifter, and worthy of his own statue.

  The mole stopped and sniffed the air. “They’re over here.”

  Raf followed him, trusting he knew what he was doing. Finally, they came upon the two bored patrol officers. They were standing at the side of a couple of freshly dug graves.

  Shep frowned. “These two were only filled in earlier today.”

  One of the patrol officers, Collins he thought, looked like he wanted to gag. “You mean, someone has come here tonight and dug up the graves of people who have only just died?”

  Raf forced himself not to tell the mole to be careful as the old shifter nimbly stepped around the now open graves. For someone so large and blind, he moved like an agile ballerina.

  “Not just that, have either of you boys actually looked into the graves?”

  The patrol officers gave each other sheepish looks and made noises about needing to wait for a detective. Raf rolled his eyes and shone his torch into the first grave. “Holy fuck!” He did the same on the next grave. “Double fuck!”

  “First time seeing a defiled corpse?” asked Shep, jovially.

  “First time seeing one actually in their own grave.” Usually, they were neatly laid out on the slab in the morgue, not still in the suits they were buried in.

  “See, we told Detective Barnes that this was weird,” said the other patrol officer, Leaky. “Were we right, or what?”

  “You were right,” muttered Raf, shining his torch around the graves, lamenting the rain ruining any footprints. Not to mention the clumsy patrol officers. “Shame you didn’t actually look into the graves before you called it in, though.”

  The first officer shrugged. “It’s not like it’s our problem now though, right?”

  Raf directed the torch to his face and the officer. “Why wouldn’t it be our problem?”

  “Well, we’re handing it over to the SEA, right?”

  “You know something about this that I don’t?”

  The officer hunched his shoulders.
“Well, it’s weird.”

  “And?” demanded Raf, his patience slowly dwindling.

  “Well, it’s bound to involve shifters. No human would do something this creepy.”

  Both patrol officers agreed with one another while completely oblivious to the look of disgust on Shep’s face. If this was a typical attitude of the LLPD, no wonder people like Shep were so hostile.

  Raf opened his mouth to lambast the young officer, but Shep interrupted. “I don’t know who did this, but one of the dead men is a shifter. Wouldn’t surprise me if humans were going around defiling shifters’ graves. Happens every couple of years, some don’t think they deserve to be buried alongside humans.” Shep directed a small growl in the patrol officers’ direction, and they had the sense to cringe and back away. “Although, it doesn’t explain why they dug up this other guy. He’s as human as sure as birds of a feather flock together and then crap on your damn car.”

  Raf ignored him. “Given that one of our… victims is supernatural, I’ll give them a call, but we’re not making any assumptions about the perp, got it?” He looked at the officers in turn who both nodded, still cowering under Shep’s glare. Raf was sure that neither officer had any idea how dangerous an octogenarian mole shifters could be, but neither seemed to want to find out. He nabbed his phone and started dialing. He would call in the SEA to consult – not to take over, to consult. He was sure that whoever they sent, they would get along like a house on fire.

  Chapter Three

  Presently…

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” he asked again as he wrapped his thick hands around her itty-bitty waist. Oh, those hours at the gym perfecting her physique were well spent.

  “Peachy,” Isis cooed, and not at all in the sarcastic voice she was going for. Uh-uh, that came out as totally sincere and dare she even think it – flirtatious. Well, who could blame her? Like a freaking damsel in distress, she’d just been rescued by a six-foot god of a man. From his dimpled cheeks, strong jaw, tousled black hair, tanned skin to his deep chocolate brown eyes, he was yummy from head to foot. Okay, so he was a little shorter than she usually liked her men; she usually worked on the basis of six-foot-two and up to allow for her heels but she could settle into only wearing two-inch heels when they went out. When they went out?! Isis shocked herself with a hard mental slap. What the fuck was she thinking? A honey-drenched voice and strong arms and she was actually considering stripping off her panties and waving them around saying, ‘come mate me, big boy’. Pull it together, woman!

  He gave her a crooked smile, and if his strong hands weren’t holding her, she might have sunk to the ground. She pressed her body closer to his chest and almost groaned at the hard muscles she felt there. Humans should not be so ripped. But damn, this guy was a fine specimen – a credit to his species. A gorgeous hunk she just wanted to strip out of his pants and gobble him up… Freaking hell! Thank the stars it was dark. Otherwise, her blush might have been seen all the way to Playa Lunar. Her tiger should be ashamed of her… wait a second, why hadn’t her beast weighed in on this? Whenever Isis met a guy who interested her, her pussy was always there to weigh in with her opinion. Usually, it was either a huff or a shrug, but the cat always had something to say on the matter. But oh no, suddenly her feline side was quiet. Suddenly she was tongue-tied and pawing the ground like a cub. Suddenly, she was shy.

  “I’m Detective Rafael Silva, LLPD,” he told her in a toe curling voice that definitely didn’t have her sex quivering. Nuh-uh, no way.

  “Isis Martin, SEA,” she replied in a voice that didn’t quaver too much.

  His eyebrows raised, and he seemed to stiffen a little. Her tiger whined. Please don’t say he was one of the many LLPD officers who had problems with shifters. She’d had more than enough encounters with incompetent speciesist detectives in her time. And while she could joke about how LLPD detectives couldn’t solve their way out of paper bag, and how they were all incompetent asswipes, she didn’t really mean it. Well, mostly anyway. Look, she was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt based on the caramel skinned hunk currently making her insides do the cha-cha. Or at least she would be if she were sure he wasn’t one of the asswipes. She gave him a tentative sniff, and while her southern belle of a tiger almost swooned at the rich, earthy, fresh rain scent, Isis was rather more intrigued by the tinge of arousal. She wiggled her hips a little closer to him and felt a growing bulge in reply. Well, that definitely wasn’t a spare flashlight in his pants. Her tiger preened smugly. He wasn’t repulsed by her - that was for darn sure.

  Rafael released her from his grasp and took a step back while rubbing the back of his head. He had an embarrassed look on his face that Isis found downright intriguing. “I’m sorry, Ms. Martin, I didn’t mean to grab you like that.”

  “No apologies necessary. If I wasn’t okay with it, you’d be the first to know. And please, call me Isis.”

  He grinned boyishly, making those oh-so-cute dimples deepen. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Isis. I’m sorry to drag you out here on a night like this.”

  “Not at all, Detective Silva,” she purred.

  “Please, call me Raf.” Hmmm, good looks – check. Sexy voice – check. Manners – check. Should she ask for her belly to be rubbed now, or was it too soon?

  “Raf,” she repeated softly, letting his name linger on her lips. He swallowed before shaking his head. Nice to know she wasn’t the only one having trouble functioning properly.

  He cleared his throat. “Anyway, the reason I asked for someone to come out here…”

  “Let me guess, you caught a shifter doing something they shouldn’t be doing and want us to take them off your hands.” The LLPD only ever called them in when they wanted to offload cases. Sigh, down to business.

  Raf cocked his head on one side. “Actually no, as I’m sure you noticed, the corpse in that grave is missing his arms. As is the corpse in the grave next to him.”

  “Ah yes, I didn’t fail to notice that my dead guy was armless.” Particularly as she was writhing around on top of him.

  “He was a shifter…”

  “Leopard,” she added as her tiger sniffed.

  Raf’s eyes widened. “No kidding?”

  “You don’t meet many shifters I take it?” she asked teasingly. Her tiger yowled, he didn’t need to meet any other shifters – he’d already met her, hadn’t he? Isis was enough for any man. Isis was certainly enough for this man. No other shifter bitches need apply.

  He laughed a little hesitantly. “Not really. Are you a shifter?” His eyes sparkled with interest.

  Isis gauged his reaction, wary of his reason for asking. There were some humans known as shifter groupies, who loved nothing more than bedding different shifters – the more exotic, the better. The guys just got hard-ons from talking about shifters; most of them explode in their pants after seeing the actual shift. So sue her - she might have flirted with a couple of them when her ego needed a boost. Being told you’re the sexiest pussy in Los Lobos was not a bad thing. But she wasn’t getting that kind of vibe from Raf. He seemed interested, yet it was more of an interest in the unknown rather than of the horny persuasion.

  Still, she decided to tease him about it. She placed a hand on her heart and gasped in mock outrage. “Why Raf, what a personal question to ask.”

  The poor detective looked mortified, and while Isis derived a little pleasure out of seeing him squirm, her tiger was clawing at her to set him at ease. Raf spread out his hands in front of him. “Isis, I’m sorry,” he told her sincerely, “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  Isis smiled naughtily and took a step closer to him. She was a couple of inches taller in her heels, and her mouth was just at the perfect height to whisper in his ear, or nibble on it if that took her fancy. “I’m a tiger,” she murmured, “rawr.”

  She moved away from him, gratified at the grin on his face, and the fact that her nearness appeared to have sent his arousal into overdrive. Her kitty was almost rolling around at the d
elicious scent. She was almost tempted to rub herself against him, to mingle his scent with hers…

  “Ahem!”

  Isis snarled, fangs dropping and eyes flashing yellow as she rounded on the person who dared interrupt them. The young police office gurgled and dropped his flashlight.

  Raf stepped forward and placed a hand on her arm. While his touch was pleasantly tingly and gave her visions of many naughty things she shouldn’t be thinking about, his skin was cool to the touch. Her tiger chuffed at Isis to do something about that. Shifters ran hot and thought nothing of running around in the wet and cold. But humans were different. They could easily catch a cold, or a bug, or pneumonia – Raf could already be dying as they spoke! No, that was intolerable! She had to make sure he was alright. The urge to ensure her mate’s safety was paramount, it was… Wait a frigging second, mate? Her tiger nodded her head and rolled her eyes with an expression that said, ‘keep up dumbass’. No, no, no, no – this was not her mate. She didn’t have a mate. She wasn’t into the whole mating thing. Yet, here he is purred her kitty.

  Isis snarled again at the surprised vehemence of her beast. The patrol officer whimpered and almost wet his pants. Raf stepped forwards to the trembling young man. “Officer Collins, right?”

  The young man nodded, and Raf gave him a calm smile. “Have the crime scene techs arrived yet?”

  “Y… y… yes.”

  “Good, show them over will you. By the way, this is Isis Martin from the SEA. You’ll have to excuse her, she’s horrified by what has happened to this shifter’s body. I told her we all felt the same way, right?”

  Collins nodded dumbly while looking at Isis’ flashing eyes. “Yes, horrified.”

  “Good man, now go and wrangle the crime scene techs.”

  “Yes,” he agreed eagerly before turning and running as fast as his feet could carry him. They heard an ouch and a thump a few seconds later, but he just got right on back up and kept running.

  “Sorry about scaring your little officer,” she pouted.