Lawman Lion: BBW Lion Shifter Paranormal Romance

by Zoe Chant

  The numbers were surprisingly good – they’d actually had quite a reasonable week, all things considered.

  She was so absorbed in the task that she almost didn’t hear it when the back door of the diner bumped a little. As it was, she dismissed it at first – it had always shuddered a little in the wind, and she was used to it by now. Charity continued on with her work, adding up the columns of figures, deducting her staff’s daily rate from the overall profits.

  Laying out the various bundles of bills, Charity began snapping rubber bands around them, when she heard the sound of the back door again – but this time, it was much louder. Looking up, startled, Charity craned her neck, trying to see out into the kitchen without moving. Her heart was thumping. This time, the sound of the door definitely hadn’t been just the wind.

  A thousand thoughts flashed through her mind: Maybe Jessup hadn’t really left. Or maybe he’d sent one of his boys over to ‘persuade’ her to take his offer. Maybe they’d hurt Mason in some way, and now come here for her…

  It was the last thought that drove her to her feet, and made her anger overcome her fear. No one frightened her while she was in her own home – shifter biker gang or not. And no one hurt Mason. She’d never let it happen.

  Crossing the bar, Charity burst into the kitchen, her fury at the idea that Jessup or any of the bikers could dare to try to intimidate her temporarily blocking out all her fear. Entering the kitchen, she picked up the first hefty item she saw – a meat tenderizer – and looked around, gritting her teeth.

  At a first glance at least, everything seemed to be exactly as it should in the kitchen. Not a thing was out of place, and there were definitely no lurking bikers waiting there for her.

  Blinking, Charity made her way slowly around the room, still clutching the tenderizer tightly. But there was nothing. The kitchen was just how she’d left it. Exhaling, Charity tried to relax a little. Maybe it had been just the wind making the door bang after all. Or maybe it had been her imagination, and all the business with Jessup was making her paranoid. Perhaps everyone was right, and she really did need a vacation.

  Smiling a little and laughing at herself, Charity made her way back across the room, putting the meat tenderizer back where she found it.

  Charity shook her head, laughing at herself for being so jumpy. Sure, Jessup might have frightened her a little, but that was no reason to lose her head. And perhaps she could see the closing of the diner as a chance to take a little break – and maybe spend some extra time with Mason.

  Try to see the bright side of this, she thought to herself. If it had to happen, then at least she could try to make the most of it. Charity sighed, feeling excitement thrill though her, despite the situation. It seemed like the love songs she’d been singing along with in her car had been right all along – love really did make you feel like a whole new person.

  A sly smile pulled at her lips. Maybe she should use the extra time to make something a bit special for Mason – he’d probably be hungry after he finished his shift, after all, and –

  In the next second, all the happiness and gleeful anticipation that had been swelling up in Charity’s heart froze, completely replaced with shock and dread.

  She hadn’t seen it on her first circuit of the kitchen: the small yellow crate that had been wedged under the stainless steel shelf beneath the preparation bench.

  Charity stood frozen, staring down at it. She’d never seen it before in her life. It was nothing that belonged here in her kitchen.

  In a moment, it became clear to her that the noises she’d heard hadn’t been her imagination at all. Someone had been here. Someone had put this crate here.

  Feeling her hands start to shake, Charity walked the few steps to the bench and knelt down, peering at the crate where it sat under the shelf. For some reason, she expected it to be heavy when she pulled it out, despite the fact it was relatively small. But it was light, and slid easily out from beneath the shelf.

  Looking down at the crate, Charity wondered what to do. She should call Mason right away, she thought – he’d know what to do, and he needed to know about this.

  It was, perhaps, the first piece of actual evidence he might be able to get against the Reapers. But what actually was it?

  Charity didn’t want to call Mason all the way back here on a wild goose chase. Sure, the crate didn’t belong here, but what was inside it?

  Her fingers shaking a little, Charity reached out, cracking open one corner of the lid, then the other. Slowly, she opened it up.

  And gasped.

  Inside the crate were several small plastic packets filled with clear crystals.

  Charity had never seen crystal meth in real life before. But she didn’t think she needed to have real-life experience to know exactly what she was looking at here. It was all over TV these days, and she’d seen warning posters around the place, telling kids not to try it even once.

  It wasn’t just a little bit of it, either – there were several bags, all sealed up tight. Charity didn’t like to think about how much it would be worth on the street.

  Charity felt light-headed.

  So this was how Jessup was going to try to persuade her to leave the diner: by framing her for being in the possession of what was obviously a felony quantity of drugs. Even as fear sliced through her, Charity wanted to laugh – the situation was so completely ridiculous that she couldn't help it.

  She didn't know the first thing about the drug trade, or how she’d even connect with any criminal underworld that might be interested in purchasing things like this. That would become clear as soon as the police questioned her. And besides which, Mason would never believe it. He’d know exactly where the drugs had come from.

  Unless…

  In a cold flash of insight, Charity suddenly saw the rest of Jessup’s plan clearly. There was no way a tiny county sheriff’s office would be allowed to deal with the amount of crystal meth she was looking at here, especially if Jessup and his crew were making it themselves. The FBI or DEA would the ones who would investigate this. Mason wouldn't have a say.

  And worse than that…

  People would know by now that she and Mason had started seeing each other. Mason had caused a stir with his election, and Charity couldn't imagine that Sherri and Bob hadn’t mentioned it to people. Word got around quick in places like this. And even if it hadn’t yet, Charity was quite sure Jessup would make sure it did.

  Maybe even his old friend, the former sheriff George Atwood, would be in on this. Mason would be hopelessly compromised by the fact his mate had turned out to be a drug runner. Even if she were cleared, the suspicion would be enough to make his position as sheriff untenable.

  And then, George Atwood would be back. This time, he wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking he was unbeatable.

  And the Reapers would have the run of Coldstream County. Just like they’d wanted.

  Charity realized she’d been right when she’d first noticed Jessup was more than a common thug. It wasn’t necessary for her to be convicted or even formally charged with a crime, though if the charges somehow did stick she’d lose everything, and she was sure that the Reapers would be more than happy to pick up her diner for a song in the aftermath.

  But all Jessup really needed was for enough questions to be asked – about her, about Mason – and everything would go his way.

  Charity wasn’t sure how long she sat, stunned, on the kitchen floor, the box of drugs open in front of her. When she did come back to herself, however, she knew she had to get out of here, and fast. Charity was sure Jessup wouldn’t leave anything to chance, and a tip-off would come from one of the Reapers to whichever agency he thought would come down hardest.

  Her head feeling clouded, Charity wondered if she should wipe her fingerprints off the crate, before deciding it didn’t really matter: it was here on her property. Either way, she was screwed, and if she wiped it down, she might also be wiping off the prints of whoever put the crate here.

>   Getting shakily to her feet, Charity did however have the presence of mind to pull out her cell phone, snapping three quick photos: she wanted to show Mason exactly what they were dealing with here.

  Then, she fled. She pulled the kitchen door shut behind her, locking it with trembling fingers. Fumbling, she dropped the keys in the dirt as she turned away. Charity cursed, leaning down to pick them up, and stopped.

  Deeply imprinted into the dusty red ground in front of her were a series of large paw prints.

  It was back here that Charity had witnessed Mason’s shift from human into lion and then back again, but these prints couldn’t have been his, she realized – he had only taken a few steps toward her to nuzzle her hand, but had otherwise stayed still. But these prints led all around the back door, across her dusty yard and over the fence.

  Charity drew a shaky breath. She supposed it made sense. Jessup and the Reapers were shifters, after all.

  Would seeing the paw prints be useful to Mason? Charity wondered. It would make sense – maybe he could tell what kind of shifter had made these prints, and maybe that would point to the real culprit.

  Taking her phone out of her bag once more, Charity quickly snapped a few photos of the prints, before turning and dashing away.

  Chapter Nine

  Mason

  Mason stared down at the screen of Charity’s cell phone, looking at the photo she’d taken of what were clearly packets of crystal meth.

  “These were in your kitchen?” he asked, looking up at her.

  Charity’s blue eyes were wide with fear and she hugged herself a little, but Mason could see the steel in her – even if she was frightened, she was far from cowering. She’d even still remembered to bring the coolers of food she’d told him she intended to donate to the church in Cedar Hill – he’d assigned a deputy to drive them over so Charity could take some time to calm down.

  “Yes,” she said. “I heard the door bang, but I thought it was just the wind. When I heard it again I went out to check, and I found it.”

  Mason looked back down at the photos. Charity had pulled up in the sheriff’s office parking lot not more than twenty minutes after he himself had gotten back from his little chat with Jessup.

  “He must’ve already sent his man out to plant it when I was talking to him,” Mason muttered. “There’s no way he would’ve had time, otherwise. He was planning this from the second you turned down his offer of buying the diner. Or maybe that was just a ruse.”

  Charity nodded. “The timing doesn’t work out, otherwise. He was probably always going to do this. Even if I’d agreed to sell him the diner – and he must have known I wouldn't – he’d still need to get rid of you as sheriff. This way he kills two birds with one stone. I lose the diner, and there’s enough questions raised that you’d need to step down as sheriff.”

  Mason nodded. Everything Charity said made sense. Anger boiled in the pit of his stomach. He’d given Jessup far too much credit in thinking he might be able to be spoken to in an honorable way – that he might be capable of acting decently. He should’ve gone with his first instinct, and driven him away with his teeth bared and his claws out.

  “Who could they even sell them to out here?” Charity asked. “I mean, I guess there’s always Cedar Hill, but even then, it’s not exactly metropolitan.”

  Mason shrugged. “You’d be surprised,” he said. “Drugs can devastate a rural community. And don’t forget there’s a couple of big army bases only a few hours’ drive away. You get bored, lonely young men away from home for the first time, that can be a recipe for trouble. Not to mention that being on the interstate like this makes it easier to move around.”

  Charity nodded, her expression grim. “But there’s one more thing.” She took her phone from him and slid to the next set of photos before handing it back. “I found these prints outside the back door – I mean, obviously with the Reapers being shifters it’s pretty clear it’s one of them, but I wondered if you’d be able to tell what kind of animal left them.”

  Mason looked down at the photo, feeling his blood run cold. He knew only too well what kind of shifter had left those tracks.

  “Those are lion prints,” he said, his throat tight. “I’d know them anywhere – my whole family are lions.”

  Charity looked up at him. “What does that mean?” she asked. “There are lion shifters in the Reapers?”

  Mason inhaled deeply. “It’s possible, but it’s unlikely. Lion shifters move in prides, and we’re pretty organized and keep in touch with each other. I’m almost certain my Uncle Lincoln would have mentioned it if he knew of any lion shifters who’d gotten involved with them. He definitely would have used it as an argument as to why I shouldn’t go after them too hard – he’d know their parents, or their sister, or their college roommate, or something like that. But he never mentioned it. So either this lion is a new recruit, or…”

  Mason cut himself off. He didn’t want to follow that line of thought right now. He didn’t like the idea of where it led.

  “Or what?” Charity asked.

  Mason shook his head. “We’ll see. I don’t want to go jumping to conclusions right now, but I just want to make one thing clear: whatever happens, Charity, I’m on your side. There’s nothing my uncle or Jessup or anyone else can say or do that would change my mind about that. Hell, even if you really were a drug runner I’d have to think twice about turning you in.”

  The sound of Charity’s laugh was a welcome one. Her beautiful smile, deep dimples and the tiny crinkles at the corners of her eyes lifted Mason’s spirit immeasurably.

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Charity,” he said, reaching out to touch her face. Her skin was warm under his fingers, and the contact left him with a pleasant tingling sensation. “I’ll never leave you. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Suddenly serious again, Charity nodded, looking at him. “I believe you. I mean, I’ve never had anyone to support me the way you have. But I know you will. I always thought… I mean, it was always just me and my dad, and then just me for so long. I never thought I’d find anyone like you. Let alone actually turn out to be their mate.”

  Mason smiled, before he leaned forward to press his lips to Charity’s. Again, there was that spark of electricity between them – the tingle that passed between them, making his nerves jump and sing. God, but he wanted her so badly…

  “You’re stuck with me now,” Mason whispered when they reluctantly parted. “Better get used to it.”

  “When does your shift finish?” she asked, her voice breathy.

  Mason glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes to go. “Now,” he said, decisively. “Hell, I’m the sheriff – if I can’t knock off early, then who can?”

  Charity laughed again. “That’s right, stick it to the man. Even if you are the man.”

  Mason joined in her laughter, before growing serious again. “Look, we don’t know what Jessup’s game is, yet,” he said. “Might be he’s already made his tip-off to the DEA or whoever he plans to have look into this. I have some contacts I can call about this, but they won’t be in at this time of night. Let me make a couple phone calls, and then what's say we get out of here – you can stay at the ranch tonight. It’s probably safer than you going home. If things don’t go Jessup’s way with whoever he calls, he may just show up there himself.”

  “Sure. Should I follow you in my truck?” Charity asked.

  “That would probably be best. We can park it out back out of sight, though I don’t think Jessup will need too many guesses to figure out where you’ve gone if he can’t find you at the diner.”

  “Probably not,” Charity agreed. “But he’d have to be pretty brave to show up on your private property, wouldn’t he? Surely your uncle wouldn’t put up with that.”

  Mason shook his head. “No, he sure wouldn't. No matter what he might feel about me being sheriff, you enter a lion’s den to cause trouble and you’re a problem. Anyway, I might be a shifter, but I'm also the sher
iff of this county - and even more importantly, I'm your mate. And if anyone, shifter or not, threatens you, then they'll have me to answer to.”

  Mason watched as Charity nodded, before she slowly leaned forward to kiss him.

  “Thank you,” she said when she pulled back, her voice a whisper. “You don’t know how much it means to me. Really.”

  In response, he only moved forward to kiss her again, feeling the heat of her lips against his. He groaned a little as he pulled back, but he knew he had things to do before they could leave.

  “Just let me put in these calls, then we’ll get outta here,” Mason said.

  Despite Atwood's best efforts to make the handover process as difficult as possible, Mason had managed to find out the numbers of a few locally-stationed agents.

  He dialed them up now, but as he'd predicted, they'd all left for the day. Mason left messages briefly detailing the situation – that a crate of drugs had been found, and that they may receive a misleading tip-off – but didn't give any more detail than that. At the moment, they had no way of knowing where or to whom Jessup would make his call – if he even planned on making one.

  Sitting back after he hung up, Mason considered if there wasn't something else he might be able to do. He thought back over the drugs. It was more than true what he’d told Charity about army bases being a possible target for them to sell to.

  They must’ve been pretty confident about their ability to break into the market, too, if they were willing to sacrifice however much they’d planted in Charity’s diner. They must’ve been very confident of a bigger payday down the road if they could get their way with this.

  “That’s a very thoughtful expression,” Charity said, coming around the desk to stand by his chair. “Anything important?”

  Mason looked up at her. “Maybe. It’s just a hunch. I might be wrong, though. But it might be worth a phone call, nonetheless.”

  He pulled out his cell phone and opened his contacts. This was one call he’d be making on his own time.