Catching the Cat Burglar: (BBW Paranormal Shape Shifter Romance) (Honeycomb Falls Book 3)

by Cassie Wright

  I stir. Should I strike? Swoop down and scoop her up? I could. I could take her where I will. She might even let me. Be eager. I take a deep breath, and then relax. No, she wouldn't go. Even if she wanted to be with me, she wouldn't let herself. She'd complicate things with her sense of moral duty. Her principles. She'd fight me, and that would ruin everything. I want willing prey. I want her as hungry for me as I am for her.

  Then, to my surprise, she looks up. Straight at me. I fight the urge to draw back. Movement draws attention. Instead, I freeze, crouched on the corner, eyes narrowing. She stares up at me, her face a pale smudge below, and then turns to scan the other rooftops, before finally sighing and sinking her hands into her coat pockets and turning to cross the bridge back to the police station.

  I relax, yet my esteem for her rises. She looked up. Nobody does that. She really does have good instincts. She'll have what it takes to be a good police officer.

  When she's gone, I rise to my feet and consider the honey. I don't have any use for it. Perhaps I could find a way to sell it, but I don't need the money, nor can I be bothered with the effort. I could just throw it away, perhaps. Or return it. That would confuse them. In the end, I slip it into my black nylon bag. I'll keep it for now, a memento of the night's adventure.

  I crouch, then leap down onto the roof of the bakery, landing as light as a whisper. Without hesitating, I bound down to the road, and when I step forth from the shadows, I'm in my human form. I open my bag and pull out my clothing, dress quickly, and set off toward my apartment.

  Joanna. Dinner tonight was wonderful. Tantalizing. Teasing. She has such an amazing blend of wit and vulnerability: at one moment so shy she'd blush bright red, the next moment leading me on with a knowing glint in her eye. What a woman. And her bare shoulder, how it tormented me all night, speckled with freckles and begging to be kissed. I should have ordered another bottle, or invited her back to my place. To continue the conversation. We could have spoken of books. I could have shown her some of my first editions. Asked her to read me some of my favorite poems...

  I frown. How is this going to work out? I'm a thief masquerading as a librarian. At some point people always notice my masquerade, or the chase gets too hot and I have to skip town. When that time comes, would Joanna agree to leave with me?

  I pause and blow out a cloud of condensation, staring up at the stars. I try to imagine it. Joanna on the road with me. Finding a new town. A new identity. Looking for a temporary lair from which to strike.

  I smile ruefully. No. Never. That's not who she is. The opposite, in fact. So why am I so attracted to her? Why do I want a woman who is my polar opposite? There can be no future between us. So why persist?

  Because I want her, growls my jaguar from deep within my soul. I need her. I need her lips, her body, her gasps, her legs around my waist. It's more than just her luscious body. It's her mind that takes her from gorgeous to irresistible. Her wit and intelligence, her caring and passion. I want her to love me, to need me, to care for me.

  Again I stop walking. What does that mean? I'm confused by my new feelings. Would it not be enough to seduce her as Chase Xavier, head librarian of the Honeycomb Falls library? No. It wouldn't. That would be a lie, a distance between us that would prevent me from really connecting. I want her to love the real me, Chase the cat burglar, the thief, the liar and imposter.

  Which... isn't going to happen. My upbeat mood crashes, and I scowl and start walking again, scuffing at the icy pavement with the toes of my shoes. If she knew the real me, she'd never come close. Even if she wanted to, she'd be obligated to arrest me.

  I sigh. What a mess. Life after Sam seemed so simple. Hollow, yes, and unsatisfying, but I could always move to a new location when my boredom or depression grew too strong. Reinvent myself. Free, ghosting along with the breeze, moving where my fancy took me. But now? Now this woman has sunk her claws into me. I don't want to leave. I don't want to disappear, and put her behind me. I want to get to know her better. Court her. Seduce her. Spend time with her. But how can that ever be?

  Instinct causes me to freeze. I snap my gaze to the left and see a huge wolf emerging from the mouth of a narrow alley. It's a monster. Broad across the shoulders, deep in the chest, with jaws like a primordial dire wolf and a pelt so shaggy and scarred it looks like its life has been one long war. Evil yellow eyes are locked on me.

  I move. No hesitation. It may be a killer, but so am I. I shift into my humanoid werejaguar form without hesitation even as it explodes into a spring, lunging across the street at me. For all its size it's terribly fast. I leap straight up, my powerful legs sending me shooting up just as the wolf passes through the space I was standing in.

  I land lightly on an iron fire escape, which groans and squeals under my weight. The wolf below crashes into the brick wall, and then gathers itself without hesitating and launches itself right up after me, shifting into its wolfman form. Huge claws latch onto the edge of the fire escape, and the whole iron platform shrieks and begins to tear free of the wall.

  I curse and leap up again, climbing with all my strength and skill and speed. At the last moment the killer below props itself against the wall and heaves, and the whole fire escape tears free from the bricks. I roar in anger and surprise, and throw myself up, a desperate gamble that pays off. I grab the edge of the roof and haul myself up. The wrecked fire escape crashes to the pavement, but I'm free.

  I crouch and peer down at the wolf, which growls impotently at me. It's so freaking huge. I hiss down at it, and then turn and run. I'm not going to give it time to find another way to attack me. I race across the rooftops, leaping over retaining walls, circling around chimneys, leaping over solar panels. I dart over alleys, and finally speed up, sprint with all my strength, and launch myself across the road to land on the ledge outside my window. I lift it open, slip inside, and then press it shut.

  I prop myself against the wall, taking deep, shuddering breaths. That was close. It almost got me. I shift down to my human form, and wipe my hand across my sweaty brow. I dump the bag with the honey on my bed, and head straight into the shower. What the hell? The idea of Joanna patrolling the streets at night while that thing is out there chills me to the bone. But what can I do?

  I turn the water on scalding and step into the steaming shower. Close my eyes and stand, hands curled into fists, allowing the delicious heat to wash away the tension and fear. Too many problems. Too many questions, and not enough answers. For once, the thrill of crossing lines and taking what I want has failed to cheer me. I feel conflicted, torn, angry.

  Damn that Joanna. Damn her and her seductive, insanely alluring body and mind.

  Chapter 8

  I wake up feeling glum. My shot at glory last night turned into a thirty-minute lecture from the chief, who all but changed his mind about giving me a chance to make the force. It took my most strenuous apologies to calm him down, and when he finally walked away I felt like a sixth grader leaving the principal's office.

  Still, I wasn't deterred. Growing up, I always had this stubborn streak. Whenever somebody told me I couldn't do something, I'd fight twice as hard to prove them wrong. My parents raised me to believe I could achieve whatever goals I desired, and I still believe that to this day. I'm a smart, passionate, strong woman, and nobody is going to tell me what I can or cannot do. If the chief thinks I'm going to give up on catching this shifter thief after one rough night, he's very, very mistaken.

  So I get up, shower, make myself a pot of strong coffee, and head into Honeycomb Falls. I want to check in on Anita and make sure she's doing all right, as well as catch up with the news at the Gypsy Cafe, and maybe buy a grilled cheese sandwich at Mindy's General Store which I'll eat by the waterfall.

  However, driving into town I see a commotion going on outside the police station. People are standing around in sparse crowds, and a large tow truck is backed up to a mess of tangled metal. I park and get out, curious and worried, hoping no one was hurt. Stepping up to the crowd,
I see Mindy standing with some of her deli workers, arms crossed.

  "What happened?" I step up next to her.

  "The fire escape fell down last night." Mindy's mouth is pinched with disapproval . "Though how that's possible I don't know. Jacob pointed out that the brick up there in the wall looks all torn out."

  I follow her pointed finger and see puckered holes where the fire escape was bolted into the wall. It really does look like it was torn out. Moving through the crowd, I walk up to Bardwell, who is scowling at the tow truck driver.

  "I don't care where you take it, just take it off Bridge Street."

  The pudgy little truck driver scratches his thinning white hair. "How 'bout down by the quarry?"

  "That's fine," growls Bardwell.

  "Or I could drag it up over to the -"

  "The quarry's fine. Get a move on, Hank." Bardwell turns away, ending the conversation, and sees me. I can tell he's not thrilled.

  "Morning, Bardwell. What happened here?"

  "What happened?" He puts his hands on his hips and stares at the wreckage. "Something tore the fire escape clean off the wall, is what happened. No witnesses, though. Excuse me." He steps away.

  I sigh. I'm clearly not that popular right now, after last night's antics. I look around and catch sight of Groofy out of the corner of my eye. He's standing around the corner of the station in the mouth of the alley. He sees me and wags his tail, happy to be noticed.

  I make my way over. "Hey, Groofy. What do you make of all this?"

  For the first time, I hear him whine. "Bad. Smells very bad. Smells of werewolf."

  "Oh?" I feel a wash of ice water run through my veins. "Here? In the middle of town?"

  Groofy nods, and actually takes a step back into the alley. "Look for bite marks on the metal. You'll see."

  "Hang on." I step over to the wreckage and inspect the twisted metal. And sure enough, there are several areas that are just plain mangled. Like something used the metal bars as a chew toy. "Hey, Bardwell. Come over here."

  He won't like being summoned like that, but I'm not going to keep apologizing. If I want them to take me seriously, I have to act like I'm one of them. Bardwell sighs, flips shut his notebook and steps over. "What is it, Kilmarten?"

  "Here," I say, pointing. "And there, and there. Those look like bite marks to you?"

  "Bite marks?" He frowns, then fingers the tortured metal. "What, you thinking a great white shark flew through town last night?"

  I nod. "Yes. A flying great white shark. That's my first hypothesis. The second is the killer werewolf. In his dire wolf form, he could have done this. He was large enough."

  "Huh," says Bardwell, scratching the back of his neck. "You could be right."

  "Get some shifters down here to take the scent. Maybe Blake over at Rachel's in Honeycomb Hall. They'll be able to confirm it."

  "That's... a good idea." Bardwell is clearly reluctant to admit it. He taps his pencil against his pad, and then walks off.

  I grin, and then see Chase at the edge of the crowd, holding a cup of coffee. He catches my eye and raises a hand, and I walk over to him. "Heya."

  "Morning." He's dressed in a white polo shirt and grey slacks, freshly showered and looking as delicious as one of Anita's bear claws. I have a moment where I imagine having awakened with him, showered together, debated where to get coffee, and walked through town hand in hand like a normal couple. "Quite the night last night."

  I smile. "Don't get too cocky. I'll admit the wine was delicious, but the company was only so-so."

  He snorts and points at the fallen fire escape. "I was referring to that."

  "Oh!" I turn as if I'm seeing the wreckage for the first time. "Right!" I fight the blush. It's far too early in the morning to be starting in on that already. "So you're saying you didn't enjoy dinner?"

  Chase smiles at me over the top of his coffee as he lifts it for a sip. "Oh, no. I'm not saying that at all."

  His smile sends goose bumps all over my skin. It's an intimate smile, complicit, as if last night we did far more than just talk and dine.

  "Bark," says a voice by my knee. Groofy is staring insistently at me.

  "Not now," I say, forcing a smile as I push him away with my leg. "Busy."

  "Arf. Bark bark woof!" He sounds very determined.

  "Your dog?" Chase gazes down at him bemusedly.

  "No. Though he seems to think he is. Hold on, let me get him, um, some water. I'll be right back."

  "Sure," says Chase, smiling.

  I follow Groofy back to the alley, where he hops around like a bunny rabbit for a little bit, and then finally settles down and sits. "It's him!"

  "Who is? What?"

  "The werejaguar! It's him! The guy you were talking to!"

  "Chase?" I look back at where he stands, one hand in a pocket, sipping demurely from his coffee. "No."

  "Yes!" Groofy rolls onto his back, wiggling and kicking his legs. "Steak!"

  My mind isn't working. I'm downshifting so hard I can almost hear the gears grinding. "Wait. You're saying that Chase, the guy I was talking to just now, is the thief we're hunting?"

  "Steak! So much steak! A mountain of meat! And me standing at the top, steak as far as the eye can see!"

  I feel a moment of vertigo. I blink rapidly and press my palm to my forehead. Chase is the werejaguar? No. But then again... yes. That could be the mystery I see in his eyes. That layer of reserve he refused to break through last night. That secret I've sensed from the beginning. Chase is the cat burglar.

  Groofy is still celebrating. "Filet mignon! T-Bone! Skirt -"

  "Groofy. Stop."

  He flips onto his feet adroitly and stares up at me. "What? We've done it."

  "Does he look arrested to you? Hmm? To me, it looks like he's enjoying a coffee, completely free to go where he wants."

  Groofy frowns and stares at Chase. "Well. Go arrest him."

  "On what grounds? That my little dog claims his scent marks him as the thief?"

  "Well, yeah," says Groofy, as if I'm revealing myself to be a particularly slow person.

  "It doesn't work that way," I say. "That wouldn't stand in a court of law."

  "Well," says Groofy with sophisticated disdain, "that means your courts of law are stupid."

  "That may be true. But regardless. I need proof."

  "Well, break into his house. You'll see the stolen things in there."

  I sigh. "I have to gain access to them lawfully. Breaking in and seizing them illegally would make them inadmissible in a court of law."

  Groofy frowns up at me. "Hold on. Maybe we're having a communication problem here. After all, I am only a very little dog of limited intelligence. What are your courts of law for? Protecting thieves?"

  I snort. "I'll give you the history of our legal system another time." I bite my thumbnail. "For now I need to figure out what to do."

  "Well, I'd keep giving you advice, but apparently everything that makes sense is offensive to your courts."

  "Yeah, yeah." I stare at Chase. He catches my eye across the crowd and lifts his coffee in a mock salute, smiling his devilish smile. "Yeah, smile you handsome bastard. I'll get you yet." But inside, I'm feeling a storm of emotion. Shock. Confusion. And... anger. It's so easy to imagine Chase climbing across rooftops, his athletic body handling the jumps and drops with ease. So easy to imagine him in black, opening windows silently, entering smoothly, taking what he wants.

  Breaking the rules. Lying to people. Pretending to be someone he's not. Lying to me.

  He isn't a librarian. He's a thief. And no matter how attractive, courteous, mysterious, alluring, and devastatingly hot he might be, I'm not a librarian either. I'm a cop. And it's my job to arrest him.

  But I need proof. I need evidence. I can't go to Bardwell and the chief with this. Groofy's testimony would only make them laugh. What can I do? I could try to get Chase to invite me back to his place, and then find an opportunity to find evidence there... but no. He's too smart to le
ave stolen goods lying around. And snooping would invalidate my finds.

  I frown. I want to stride up to him and slap him. I realize that I'm furious. Why? I feel betrayed. I was falling for Chase the librarian. Now what do I feel? Who is he? Was he laughing at me all this time?

  Then it hits me. Last night. In Anita's bakery. That was Chase. It was him taking hold of my shoulder, growling in my ear, telling me that he wanted to kiss me and lick me and make me scream. I blush furiously. My heart skips a beat, and my legs go weak. Which only makes me more furious. Does he think he can toy with me? Oh no. I'll show him.

  "What are you going to do?" Groofy is watching my face carefully. "That's a scary smile."

  "Oh, I have an idea." And I do. It comes to me in a flash. "Wait here."

  I stride over to Chase, feeling dangerous and powerful and vengeful.

  "Hey," he says. "I know we just had dinner, and I should play it cool and wait a couple of days, but do you want to grab a bite to eat? I was heading down to Anita's to grab breakfast."

  "Oh, really?" My smile grows wider. "Anita's? Have you been there before?"

  He raises an eyebrow, taken aback by my animated tone. "Not yet. But I've heard good things."

  "I'm sure you have." I want to shake him. "And while I'd love to join you, I can't. I'm sorry. I have a prior commitment."

  "At this hour?" He almost goes to check his watch. "What are you up to?"

  "Guard duty." I shrug as if to say, Them's the breaks.

  "Guard duty, hmm?" He sips his coffee again, watching me speculatively. "What's so important they need to pull their cutest officer off the streets?"

  "That's sweet." Compliments only fuel my fire. "There's a valuable diamond that we have to protect till it's picked up tomorrow. The Countess Diamond. It's as big as my fist!"

  "The Countess Diamond?" Chase frowns. "Are you serious?"

  I nod enthusiastically. "Oh, yes. It's normally kept at the mayor's house, but with this cat burglar on the prowl, he doesn't think he can keep it safe. So he's asked us to watch over it till he can have a security team take it to Boston for safekeeping."