Shift Work (Carus #4)

by J. C. McKenzie

  “Penny for your thoughts.” Tristan held the glass doors of his company open for me.

  “I’d really like to understand my brain someday.”

  Tristan chuckled and followed me in. He reached down and clasped my hand. The contact of his skin sent tingles up my arm. I didn’t let go. I squeezed his hand back as we walked through the sparse lobby.

  A long receptionist desk with an elevator to the right and a door, presumably the stairs, to the left sat on the opposite side of the lobby. Cameras tracked our progress along the dark slab tiles. The little motors purred as the machines moved along with us.

  “Hello, Mr. Kayne,” a middle-aged receptionist with graying brown hair and kind eyes greeted us. Her gaze flicked to me briefly, before dropping to our joined hands. Her smile broadened.

  “Hello, Suzy.” Tristan smiled back. “This is Andy.”

  Suzy nodded and stood. Reaching over her desk, she offered her hand and I shook it. Chamomile tea swirled around in her nutty scent. Shifter, not Were. Feline, but not leopard, mountain lion, or bobcat. I couldn’t put my nose on it, but asking, “what are you?” would be rude.

  “Ocelot,” she whispered with a wink.

  I grinned and nodded, but my internal badass recoiled. I kept my happy-to-meet-you face plastered on, while my mind raced. How had she read me so easily? I’d kept my expression pleasantly neutral. Only Tristan still gauged my internal musings with ease. Since the tattoo shop receptionist, I’d made more effort to shutter my emotions from my expression. Had my face become an open book for others to read despite my best efforts? My feras bristled.

  I searched the receptionist’s face, but she wore an open smile, and her kind eyes held no calculations.

  No. She hadn’t read me at all. My own insecurities were bubbling up. Suzy probably got asked the “what are you” question all the time, and knowing I could tell she was something, decided to throw the truth out there.

  Tristan pulled me toward the right. When we stepped into the freshly-scented elevator, Tristan called out to Suzy, “Hold any calls. I’m here on personal business.”

  “Got it,” she replied. If she said anything else, the closing doors cut her off.

  “Seems nice,” I said. A lot nicer than Angie. But why would Tristan choose an older, kinder receptionist over sexpot Angie with the good looks and killer body?

  “Clients come here to feel safe. Suzy is open and honest. She puts everyone at ease. Angie has a lot of qualities, but that’s not one of them.”

  I snorted. “I didn’t realize being a bitch was a quality.”

  “Angie…she’s had it rough. When we were under Ethan’s control…” His mouth flattened into a straight line, and his muscles tensed. “I tried to protect her, and everyone else in my pride as much as possible, but she’s an attractive woman. Bad men took notice…”

  I held my hand up. “I get it.” And I did. It made my heart soften a little toward Angie, and a lot toward Tristan. His sad gaze told me who he blamed for Angie’s suffering. I needed to lighten the mood.

  “If she keeps pushing me, though, Tristan, you’re going to end up with a cat fight.”

  Tristan’s lips twitched, and his gaze flicked to me before he leaned forward and pressed the button for the third floor.

  The elevator jerked into motion.

  “This place is bigger than I expected.”

  “There’s a room behind the receptionist desk for training. The basement has parking, supplies, and artillery. Second floor is offices, meeting rooms, storage, et cetera. Third floor is where most of the grunt work is done. It houses the IT department, our security programs, and all our surveillance footage. Fourth floor is housing, where a number of us stay after long missions or during intense projects. It’s like a floor in a mini-apartment building.”

  I nodded and acknowledged him, but my mind had travelled someplace else. The small elevator offered little in the way of air circulation. If the car had been bad, this was worse. Tristan’s scent accumulated into an overwhelming concentration. So potent, my head spun. Speaking was impossible. The citrus and sunshine melded with honeysuckles on a hot summer’s day. I wanted to wrap his scent around me like a blanket and roll around. I wanted to sip raspberry mojitos, and have sex on the beach. Have him plow—

  “Andy?” Tristan turned toward me, his eyebrows pinched. He took a long drag of air and shuddered. His eyelids half-closed and a purr erupted from his chest.

  Well, damn. Guess he knew where my mind went.

  He leaned toward me. “I’ve thought about taking you in this elevator every day at work. Pinning you against the wall, with your long legs wrapped around me…”

  I melted. Something clenched. Heat pooled. I shut my eyes and swallowed. Deep breaths pulled in more of his intoxicating scent. My head swam with possibilities.

  “Only one problem…” His smooth voice drifted off.

  My eyes snapped open. “What?” I croaked.

  The elevator dinged, and the doors opened.

  “The ride’s too short for what I have in mind,” he finished, before hauling me out of the small compartment. If the elevator ding hadn’t announced our presence, the air rushing out with our scents and the smell of our arousal certainly did.

  Multiple men and women—some Wereleopards, some Shifters, some norms—all glanced up from their computers. The supes in the room shared smug glances and knowing looks. With a flash of a few red dollar bills, I was pretty sure money exchanged hands. Guess our little elevator interlude didn’t go unnoticed.

  The floor held multiple cubicles and large screens adorned the walls, some showing images from this office, some displaying unfamiliar rooms and people.

  “Olly?” Tristan turned toward a beefcake with no neck. Wereleopard, and one of the pride members. Tristan had mentioned his second-in-command a few times.

  “Yeah, boss?” His gaze darted to me, quick and calculating, probably assessing whether I’d hurt his Alpha again.

  I kept my posture relaxed and my face open. If Tristan and I made this work, I’d become a part of the pride.

  Olly’s gaze dropped to our clasped hands, and a small smile broke his stern expression.

  “I texted you about Tancher Pharmaceuticals,” Tristan said to Olly. “We got anything on them?”

  Olly’s grin widened. “We installed their entire security system.”

  Tristan nodded. “I’d like everything we have on them, on and off the books, sent to the IT conference room.”

  Olly mock-saluted and winked at me. Tristan didn’t seem insulted or shocked. He simply nodded again and pulled me to the room at the back of the floor.

  Tristan motioned for me to precede him, and I stepped into the small conference room with no windows, three monitors on the wall, and a large rectangular table surrounded with ten large office chairs.

  “Have a seat. Olly will get us the information soon. I’m sure he started compiling it as soon as he got my text. Very efficient.”

  I quirked a brow. Tristan seemed tense.

  “You smell so good,” he said. “If you don’t sit down and distance yourself, Olly might walk in on more than his paygrade allows.”

  I smirked and pulled out one of the chairs. At least I wasn’t the only one hypersensitive and aware. Tristan grabbed a laptop from the cupboard, plugged in, and booted up.

  “We should talk,” he said without glancing up.

  “Thought we were talking.”

  Tristan grunted and tapped away on his keyboard. “About your family. Whether you’ll let me help you find them. I have the connections. About whether you can forgive me.”

  I sighed and leaned back. The office chair was real leather and super cushy. I rocked it back and forth a little before spinning it around once. To test it, of course.

  Tristan cleared his throat and finally looked up, pegging me with his gem-cutting gaze.

  “I’m not sure it’s even forgiveness I’m searching for. I feel like I should be angry at you. Like I shouldn
’t be with the person responsible for the murder of my biological parents, but…”

  “But?” He pounced on the word, his tone gruff and low.

  “But, I’m not angry. I don’t hold you responsible for my parents’ deaths. That doesn’t sit right with me. It was Ethan. I know that. There must be something wrong with me, because after the initial wave of confusion and anger, I just feel…weird.”

  Tristan tilted his head and studied me. “So, you’ve been upset with me because you think you should be upset with me?”

  Well, when he said it like that… “Pretty much.”

  “Huh.”

  “Now I just feel stupid. I also feel like I failed you.”

  “Failed me?”

  “The first time you divulge some of your painful past, which couldn’t have been easy, I not only threw it in your face, but pushed you away. Some mate I am.” I looked down at my twisted hands. “Can you understand?”

  Tristan reached over and placed his hand on top of mine. “Yeah, I can understand. You have the right to be upset. To be angry and confused. I suspected you would need time to process. Now that you’ve had a bit though…” He paused. His gaze flashed leopard-yellow. His jaw clenched. “Can you forgive me?”

  The indescribable tenderness—the one I’d experienced during our first true night together, the one so fragile yet strong and potent at the same time—built in in my chest, expanding again to the brink of pain. Watching Tristan struggle to maintain control of his animal while asking forgiveness and trying to hide how much my answer meant to him, sent comforting warmth through my body.

  Could I forgive him? “I think so. But why do I feel so awkward? Like I’ve emotionally shut down?”

  Tristan’s mouth widened, and his white teeth flashed. Musky coconut infused in his scent as he leaned forward. “I know the perfect cure for that.” His muscles tensed as if he prepared to haul me out of the seat and throw me on the board table.

  My heart raced. “What about—”

  “Got everything!” Olly exclaimed as he knocked and opened the door in a single motion. “Oh! Um…sorry.”

  “Thank you, Olly.” Tristan straightened and snatched the thick folder and a large document tube from Olly.

  Olly rubbed his shaved head and shifted his weight back and forth. “I sent the rest to the laptop.” His cheeks flamed red. He nodded at both of us before hastily backing out of the room, and shutting the door.

  “Might have to increase that paycheck,” I said.

  Tristan nodded and pulled what looked like floor plans from the document tube. “Let’s pick apart Tancher Pharmaceuticals first.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “There is no future. There is no past… Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet.”

  ~Dr. Manhattan, Watchmen: Chapter 9

  Sleep came quickly as I lay in bed and ran my fingers along my lips, the same lips that had pressed against Tristan’s before he said goodbye, and reconfirmed our date for after the Tancher takedown.

  Soft, full, and pliable. His lips had covered mine while his tongue delved into my mouth and stirred passion strong enough to vibrate my bones.

  My heart swelled with the knowledge we’d work things out, that my emotional block would go away, and we’d get back to where we were, only better, only stronger.

  My mind drifted in a deep sleep, roaming through memories, more good than bad.

  The flickering film reel of images slowed, then cleared, and suddenly my feet sank into the mossy bank of a river. Mist caressed the shoals and trickling water, while large rocks protruded from the flowing mass with a glossy sheen.

  Movement across the water caught my attention. A dark form took shape. Tristan?

  I straightened and smoothed down my gossamer nightgown.

  Nightgown?

  My gaze narrowed, and the mist parted to reveal a seven foot Seducer Demon.

  “Sid,” I spat.

  He held his hands up, palms out. “Truce, Carus. I came to talk.”

  I grumbled, but my slurs didn’t faze him. When he continued to study me, I caved. “What do you want?”

  “A truce.”

  “A truce?”

  He nodded.

  “Because you’ve realized I can jump in and manipulate your dreams to make your sleepy-time as miserable as you’ve made mine?”

  He scowled.

  “Isn’t nice, is it?”

  “No.”

  “Well, remove your mark. Find a more willing anchor.” My heart beat quickly in my chest. Maybe this would get me out of the bond.

  Sid folded his arms across his chest. His pectoral muscles bubbled up. “I want to come to an agreement.”

  I waited.

  “I will continue to use you as my anchor. That’s not something I’m giving up. However, I’m a reasonable Demon. I’m open to negotiation, I can give you things, many things.”

  My body tensed. “I don’t need assistance in the multiple orgasm department, Demon.”

  Sid smirked. “I know.”

  My brain scrambled. He would continue to use the bond regardless of tonight’s outcome. My shoulders sagged. Maybe… Maybe I should negotiate with the Demon. May as well try to set some boundaries and make the situation more tolerable until I found a way out of it altogether.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s make a deal.”

  He nodded. “Name your terms, little Carus.”

  “Find a way to make the transition to the mortal realm less uncomfortable. That shit hurt.” I flicked up a finger for each point. “Stop manipulating my dreams, and I’ll promise the same. Stop feeding off my sexual energy, and I’ll promise to feed you real food on new moon nights. You can use me as an anchor once a month, but you have to promise to do no harm while you’re here.”

  “No nuts.”

  “Excuse me?” Coming from a seducer Demon, it was a reasonable request for clarification.

  “No nuts in whatever you feed me, and a proviso on the no harm term and we have a deal. Your parameters are quite reasonable.”

  “What kind of proviso?”

  “I will not harm you or anyone under your protection. I reserve the right to harm those who attack either me or you, and I reserve the right to harm others on an individual basis. These would be people who’ve wronged me in the past or present, not random, group slaughters, like Bola. I don’t feed on pain, fear, or bloodshed, and typically avoid it. You know this.”

  I nodded. Crap. Should I have asked for more? He agreed so easily. “No nuts. I agree to the ‘no harm’ revision, but I also reserve the right to renegotiate, should other situations arise.”

  Sid narrowed his gaze.

  I shrugged. I could turn his slumber into a nightmare. No more wet dreams for him. “Take it or leave it.”

  “Deal,” he said.

  “Do we shake on it?” I eyed the river.

  “Silly mortal.” He grew a talon and sliced open his palm.

  Demons and their fascination with blood. I mirrored his actions and recited my agreement to the terms.

  Yup. I’d just made a deal with the Devil. Well, his assistant, anyway.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “A common mistake people make when trying to design something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools.”

  ~Douglas Adams

  The cool fall wind rustled the soft feathers on the underside of my wings as I glided through the night toward Anacis Island—home of Tancher Pharmaceuticals.

  With the plan firmly in place, now was not the time to take a joy ride, no matter how perfect the flying conditions.

  The aerial view showed the VPD task force moving into position. With radio silence, they counted on me to get the job done. I couldn’t let them down.

  I wouldn’t let Stan down.

  After confirming the Pharaoh’s presence in Denver at a Vampire convention,
we chose a night raid to obtain the files and servers and to seize any King’s Krank on site to avoid the daytime office workers. We didn’t want to unnecessarily risk lives or risk the staff holing up in their offices to destroy evidence before we reached them.

  The wind pushed and pulled as it swirled around the trees and multilevel buildings on the island. Tucking my wings in, I flew to the top of Tancher Pharmaceuticals. With both feet perched on the ledge of the roof, my falcon eyesight spotted the north tactical team moving to the ditch across the street. One of them, Stan, took out a mirror and caught the light from the overhanging streetlamp to flash me the message.

  Go time.

  With a few hops and flaps of my wings, I made it to the central air duct on the rooftop. A quick shift to human form allowed me the use of fingers. The small grate and six screws provided little resistance to my supe strength. Metal scraped against metal for a brief second before I flung the grate off the vent. I paused. My heart stuck in my throat. No alarm sounded. I relaxed.

  This was the hard part. I couldn’t slither up metal, nor could I fly down the narrow duct. So I’d have to prop myself up on the vent and then shift into the snake. The building plans Tristan provided showed a drop until the duct branched into multiple directions. The trick would be to not die from the three meter drop. When my tiny, vulnerable, non-badass snake-self hit the branching part, I needed to pick the right direction, too.

  Here goes nothing.

  The shift back to a falcon, left my head dizzy and ears ringing. Never good to shift in quick succession. I could handle it though. I had to.

  Using the air flows, I flew to the open grate and braced my small body with my talons gripping the thick metal on each side of the hole. The wind pushed against my sides. I wobbled. Teetering to maintain balance, my little bird heart hammered in my chest.

  Deep breath.

  I focused inward and called Kaa. As soon as her cold energy appeared, I pulled her essence into me and shifted. The shape came swiftly. My blood cooled as the scales crawled up my skin and replaced feathers. My beak receded and my tongue elongated, becoming forked. Flesh compacted. After sharp pain raked my body, my shift completed.