The Alpha Meets His Match

by Georgette St. Clair

  He swung to glare at Captain Thorne. “Why was I not informed of this briefing?”

  “My secretary did in fact inform your secretary of this briefing,” Captain Thorne said.

  The other police officers had stiffened visibly at the intrusion. They moved their chairs closer to Captain Thorne, subtly but noticeably. Clearly the chief wasn’t well loved by the men in this room. Bobbi had been told that he operated mostly as a figurehead, gladhanding with all of the politicians and wealthy business people, and never involving himself in investigations.

  “I doubt that, since I never received the information. I’d like to introduce you to State Representative Stanford Roosevelt.” The chief, a shorter man with gray hair and a mustache, swelled visibly as he spoke, as if merely saying Roosevelt’s name made him more important.

  “We all know who he is,” Bobbi said coolly.

  “Then you should know that my men are armed with silver coated bullets, in case any of you shifters attempt anything,” Stanford, a strikingly handsome man with a shock of silver hair, said. When he spoke to her, he didn’t meet her eyes; he spoke to a spot several inches above her head.

  She could feel the anger radiating from Jax, but he managed to hold himself together, barely.

  In a way, Bobbi wasn’t surprised that he wouldn’t meet her eyes. The eyes were what gave shifters away to humans. They were always the color of their animals species, and the pupils were shaped the same as their animal species as well. Many humans found it disconcerting to look in a shifters eyes.

  “You have no right to come in here and insult these people in such a fashion,” Thorne said angrily. “And I trust those bullets are properly registered.” Silver-coated bullets weren’t sold to the general public; a special license was required to buy them, and it was illegal to cheat by dipping regular bullets in silver.

  “You want to see our license?” One of Stanford’s hired musclemen sneered.

  “Yes, in fact, I do,” Captain Thorne said.

  “Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Chief Davis rushed in. Thorne’s eyes were blazing with anger, and he made a visible effort to restrain himself from speaking. The officers on either side of him stiffened at the insult to their boss’s authority, but said nothing.

  Stanford sat down at a seat across from Bobbi and Jax, with his men flanking him closely.

  “I expect to be filled in on every aspect of this investigation,” he said. He flicked a contemptuous glance at Jax and Bobbi. “And I expect that any shifters involved in this investigation will be accompanied by human minders at all times, and before they take any action or conduct any investigation, they will formally submit their intentions in writing to be approved by Chief Davis.”

  Human minders? As if they were dogs who might go rabid at any moment?

  Jax let out an audible growl of anger, and the men accompanying Roosevelt clutched at their guns. Thorne and his men jumped to their feet, their own hands on their guns.

  Bobbi needed to get Jax out of there before he leaped across the table and ripped Stanford’s face off. Quickly, she stood up, and Jax followed suit.

  She looked Stanford right in the eye.

  “We don’t work for you,” she informed him. “The Enforcers are a division of the National Shifter Council, which is an independent entity, and Jax is a licensed bodyguard and investigator. We do not require your approval. Furthermore, Mr. Roosevelt, you know quite well that the House of Representatives Security Committee has agreed that at this point, it would be dangerous to publicly speculate as to whether any other Shifter Rage incidents are connected to the incident with Judge Galbraith. You know this because you were specifically ordered not to reveal that information to the public.”

  Stanford was, in fact, a member of the Security Committee. He’d been outvoted so far in his outrageous demands on this investigation…but if this case wasn’t resolved quickly, he might be able to swing more members his way.

  “The public has a right to protect themselves,” Stanford snapped, again addressing the air several inches above her head.

  “If there are any leaks to the media, it will be very easy to identify where they came from, and the source of those leaks would be subject to charges of treason,” she said, struggling to maintain a calm demeanor.

  Jax was clenching his hands into fists, and she could see fur sprouting from them, and black claws curving from his fingers.

  “Are you threatening me?” Stanford demanded of the air above her head.

  Yes, Bobbi wanted to snarl. “If telling you to obey the law and the directions of the Security Committee is a threat, then yes,” she said coldly. “Jax, let’s go.”

  He followed her out of the room, walking stiffly, and she could feel the eyes of Stanford and his men burning holes in her back as they went.

  Thorne shot her a sympathetic look, but didn’t say anything. With the police chief on Stanford’s side, his hands were tied.

  Damn it to hell, she thought furiously as they walked outside. Damn, damn, damn. This made her mission her so much more complicated. Jax was shaking with anger when they reached the sidewalk.

  “Good job not tearing his throat open,” Bobbi said. “I know you wanted to.”

  “You have no idea how badly.”

  “All right. We’re going to go for a drink, and then regroup. It’s not too early for a beer, is it?”

  “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Jax said, managing a grim smile.

  Fifteen minutes later they were inside the Drunken Monkey, a shifter-friendly bar that Jax had suggested. It was dark and cool inside, and mostly empty at that time of day. Two shots of whiskey and a frosty mug of beer had taken the edge off Jax’s anger, although Bobbi suspected he was still brooding.

  “I’m going to go outside and make a call to Enforcer headquarters,” she said. “Drink up. Please.”

  He raised his mug to her in silent salute, and she walked outside to make the call.

  “What the hell are we going to do, Renee?” she asked her supervisor after briefing her on what had happened at the police station. “Do we have to put up with this? You know Stanford’s anti-shifter agenda; giving him access to the investigation is an invitation to disaster.”

  “Unfortunately, for now, we do have to put up with it. The minute he steps over the line, the minute he reveals confidential information to the public, we can file a complaint, but right now, we don’t have a choice. It’ll be all right; this is far from the first time that shifters have had to deal with prejudiced morons.”

  “Fine,” Bobbi said unhappily. She walked back inside, to find a considerably more mellowed-out Jax.

  She glanced around; there was nobody sitting near them, and the bartender was at the other end of the bar.

  “What’s our next move when it comes to Caged Heat?” she asked in a low voice.

  “The club doesn’t open until tomorrow night,” he told her. “They’re open Wednesday through Sunday. In the meantime…you and I need to go shopping. We’ll need to get you some appropriate clothes.”

  “What kind of clothes?” she looked a him suspiciously.

  “Listen, if you want to back out, I completely understand.” His tone was patronizing, his gaze challenging.

  “You wish,” she snapped.

  “Do I really, now? You think I don’t want to see you naked and chained to a St. Andrew’s Cross?” He flashed her an evil grin. He was definitely back to his normal self right now – his normal, dickhead self.

  She refused to ask him what a St. Andrew’s Cross was, but she’d definitely be hitting up Google later.

  “If we’re going to do this, we have to do it right. I’m completely serious here.” He stopped walking and looked her in the eye. “I can go to the club myself, if you don’t think you can handle it. But if you’re going to come with me, you can’t arouse any suspicion. You have to act like the women that I’ve brought there in the past.”

  Irrational, ugly jealously swirled in her stomach at the tho
ught of him and those other women.

  “Go on,” she said coolly.

  “You need to act submissive to me. When I give you orders, you have to obey without question. You can act a little sassy, but then I’ll punish you. You’ll have to accept my spanking you, maybe using a flogger. We have to put on a public display to convince people that we’re legit.”

  “I’m an Enforcer. I’m not afraid of pain.”

  “What about being naked in a room full of people?”

  She shrugged, and said defiantly “I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “You certainly don’t.”

  He looked down at her his taunting tone suddenly softened. “No one but me will touch you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  She swallowed hard and nodded. “If you give me your word on that, than I have no problem with it.”

  His eyes widened a little. “You’re sure.”

  “I said I have no problem with it.”

  He stood there for a minute, looking flustered. Clearly he hadn’t expected her to go through with this.

  Then he took a deep breath, and shrugged, smiling gamely. “Then let’s go shopping.”

  Chapter Six

  “My, she’s lovely. You always have such excellent taste,” the skinny male clerk at Liquid, a bondage emporium, simpered at Jax.

  Jax saw Bobbi flinch, and he glared at the clerk. There was no need to rub Bobbi’s nose in the fact that he’d bought numerous women here before.

  “Thanks for the discretion,” he said coldly, and the clerk flushed and started mumbling. “I just meant-”

  “I don’t need your help, thanks,” Jax said, and the clerk slunk away, chastened.

  There were racks and racks of clothing on display. Leather, vinyl, latex, in every conceivable color. There were costumes, shoes, and lingerie nestled in front of glass display cases of full of nipple clamps, vibrators,butt plugs and lubricants.

  Bobbi stared at the clothing, blinking, and clearly struggling to keep her cool.

  Jax could have sworn that Bobbi would refuse to go undercover with him to the club. He’d even given her an out, offering to go by himself. And yet – when she said that she’d go with him, he suddenly realized that he’d wanted her to go to the club with him, all along. Damn his cock, doing all of his thinking for him.

  Jax led Bobbi over to a rack of latex dresses, and scanned the offerings.

  “You’re a size six, right?” he said.

  “Good eye.” She nodded.

  He pulled a couple of dresses from the rack, and held them up appraisingly.

  “Interesting zipper arrangements,” she said, looking at the dresses askance.

  “That’s so I can gain access to the important areas whenever I want.” The dresses that he’d handed her would allow him to pretty much take her clothing apart inside the club.

  The thought of her restrained, her taut, muscular body stretched out and straining as he flogged her quivering buttocks…

  Heat sizzled through his nervous system, and he could feel all the blood in his body rushing to his groin. He prayed that Bobbi wouldn’t glance down and see, but she seemed to be looking anywhere but at him at the moment.

  He knew she was turned on too. She was breathing hard, and her pupils were dilated. He could see the hard nubs of her nipples through the silky fabric of her shirt. He wanted nothing more than to strip her clothing off and suck those nipples into his mouth. The scent of her arousal, rich and sweet and musky, tormented him. He could imagine exactly how she’d taste.

  “Go try those on,” he told her. “I’ll be waiting for you out here.”

  After a couple of minutes, he strolled to the dressing room area. She was inside one of the rooms. He knocked on the door.

  “Let me see,” he ordered her.

  “I don’t know…”

  He lowered his voice, his mouth inches from the door. “You need to obey me in here. The BDSM community is pretty tight; if it seems like we’re not really a couple, word could get back to people at the club.”

  There was a pause, and then the door yanked open. She stood there wearing a black lycra dress that fit her as if it had been poured onto her body. The hemline was so short that it made her muscular legs look miles long. The dress had a deep scoop neck which showed off the generous swell of her breasts, and zippers zig zagging across it front and back. He desperately wanted to grab the zippers and yank them open right there.

  “Nice,” he said approvingly. He held up several g-strings that he’d selected for her. “And you’ll wear one of these.”

  She nodded, breathing heavily. “Fine,” she said. Her face was flushed.

  The two of them stood there, staring into each other’s eyes. The sexual tension was so thick that it could have been sliced through with a knife. He wanted nothing more than to shove his way into that tiny changing room, push her up against a wall, and, the hell with the zippers, rip the dress right off her body. It was an expensive dress. It would be worth every penny.

  Finally she spoke. “If we show up and everyone is dressed in formal cocktail attire, I just want you to know that I will. Fucking. Kill. You.”

  The tension broke, and they both broke into gales of laughter before Jax finally regained control of himself. “You’ll fit right in,” he assured her. “I’ll be the envy of every man there.”

  The thought of all the men ogling her sent a swirl of mixed emotions through him. On the one hand, he would be proud to show her off, and he was fine with other men looking at her…from afar.

  But there was something about her that set off his animal instincts, and the thought of any man actually approaching her, especially dressed in that sinfully sexy outfit…he actually felt his fur bristling beneath the surface, and had to fight down an animal snarl.

  After they picked out shoes to complete the outfit, they went to the front counter. Jax insisted on paying for it. “It’s on Hammersmith,” he told her. “Business expense.”

  She laughed. “I wish I could be there when the accountants are approving that one.”

  He shrugged. “It’ll liven up their otherwise dull lives.”

  As they walked outside the store, he held open the door of his car for her. “You have plans for tonight?’

  “Working out, shower, early bedtime.”

  “I could give you a demonstration of what to expect at the club.” He had tossed that out off-handedly, like he would with any hot woman that he wanted to seduce, but he suddenly realized that he very, very much wanted her to say yes. He didn’t want to be separated from her. He wanted to be with her tonight…all night.

  She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. She seemed to struggle with her words, and he could hear the faintest tremor in her voice. “I think it’s best if we keep this professional.”

  Disappointment bit into him, but he knew she was right. He nodded curtly. “I’ll be by to pick you up around nine. Are you doing any investigating tomorrow, during the day?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know yet. If I am, I will let you know.”

  Somehow he doubted that.

  After he dropped her off at the hotel, he grabbed his cell phone and called Kenneth.

  “I need to hit you up for a favor,” he said.

  “Shoot.”

  “Find out anything that you can on a coyote Enforcer named Roberta Jo Simpson.”

  * * *

  Vaughn Waverly leaned forward, hunched over a mirror that lay on the overstuffed ottoman in front of him, with a rolled up thousand dollar bill jammed into his right nostril. He quickly snorted the three lines of white, granular cocaine in front of him, one after the other, shuddering with pleasure as the chemicals roar through his nervous system.

  His suite had a spectacular view of the setting sun, a giant red ball of fire melting into the horizon, the buildings of Mexico City standing out against the sunset like black paper cutouts. The room was enormous, with thick, soft carpeting, a massive chandelier dangling from the ceiling,
and purple velvet curtains cloaking the walls. A gold and leopard print sofa piled high with cushions could easily have seated twenty. Sometimes it did, when Vaughn was in the mood for an orgy.

  He glanced down at the beautiful blond ocelot shifter who was kneeling near his feet, staring dully at the floor. “What are you waiting for?” he snapped, and fumbled at his zipper, freeing his rock hard cock. Obligingly, she crawled up to him and reached for his thick, purplish rod.

  “Can I have a hit first, Vaughn? Please,” she whimpered. “I’m hurting bad. I’m hurting real bad.”

  Vaughn laughed out loud. She actually thought he cared about her pain. He reveled in her suffering, gloried in the effectiveness of Compound 72, street name Afterburn, in reducing any feline shifter to a helpless bag of skin and craving. All that shifter strength, all that power, burned away as the desperate need for the next fix became more important than family, than life itself.

  She’d been a waitress at a strip club he’d owned, and he’d tested out Compound 72 on her and a number of the other girls, offering free samples at first.

  Then the freebies stopped, and she found out how expensive her new habit was. It cost more than money. She’d abandoned her three cubs, left her pack, and became one of his gang’s passarounds…all for that next hit. Anything for the next hit.

  “After you do your job,” he drawled, in a bored tone, and she crawled up between his legs and took him in her mouth.

  She could suck some dick, he’d give her that. That was why she was still there. Her mouth closed on him eagerly, her head pumping up and down as his breathing grew harsh and fast. The cocaine made it more difficult for him to come, though, and he groaned impatiently as her head bobbed and he dangled on arousal’s precipice.

  “Suck harder, you stupid bitch,” he growled, and she obliged, her head bobbing frantically up and down, and her cheeks hollowing with the effort. Finally his excitement reached its peak and he exploded, grabbing her by the hair and shoving his cock all the way down her throat. She gagged, struggling to breathe, and her arms flailed in panic, but he held her in place until he was done, then released her. She fell to the floor, gulping in air in desperate heaving breaths, eyes wide and panicked.