Heartsridge Shifters: Grant

by Olivia Arran

  I leaned closer, not giving a damn if we were blocking the doorway. Or if we had an audience, which we most likely did. When it came to their mates, shifters didn’t possess an ounce of shame or propriety. I pressed another kiss to her cheek. “Aching,” I growled.

  “Yeah, yeah, I made your dick hard.” She gave me a little shove. “That doesn’t mean you get to jump straight into foreplay.”

  Oh, damn. I was pretty sure I was already half in love with this woman, if only for her sharp tongue. “That wasn’t foreplay.” I ran a finger up her arm, tugging her wrap up over her shoulder. “Trust me, you’ll know when I—”

  The click of a gun being cocked sounded behind me. “Give me your fucking purse. And you, your wallet. Now!”

  Chapter Eight

  Mandy

  The bubbles that had been merrily popping inside my stomach fizzled out at the sight of a familiar steel barrel aimed at Grant’s head. The hand holding it was shaking, fingers grubby and nails bitten down to the skin, track marks tracing bruising lines up and down the junkie’s arms. He braced the gun with his free arm, trying to resist the tremors coursing through his blood, his body fighting him for his next fix. Shaking matted hair out of eyes glazed and unfocused, he sniffed, the sound a harsh crackle at the back of his throat.

  “The fucking purse, bitch! I’m not messin’ with ya!”

  Someone behind us shrieked and the guy twitched, his finger hovering over the trigger.

  “Easy there,” I murmured, shifting my purse in my hands as if to hand it over to him.

  Time slowed. I risked a glance at Grant, who still had his back to the guy. Silver glowed as his eyes met mine. “He’s aiming at me, right?”

  When I nodded, he expelled a deep sigh that looked to be one of relief, the corners of his mouth curving up into a feral smile.

  “That makes you happy?” I asked on a hiss.

  “If he was aiming at you, I’d have to kill him.” His explanation was flat and devoid of emotion. And it freaked out the guy who was presently waving a gun in his direction, who was babbling and scratching at his face, blinking rapidly.

  “Just great,” I muttered under my breath, calculating the odds at being able to draw my sidearm before shots were fired. Not good. I could throw my purse at him? My line of sight was shit though, blocked by Grant. Wait, what? Completely blocked. When had he moved?

  “Do I have your permission to disarm this idiot?”

  I almost missed Grant’s whisper, seeing as I was trying to peer around him.

  The guy hadn’t followed through on his threat, which maybe meant that—

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Grant spun, faster than my eyes could track, his hand whipping out in a blur.

  The junkie looked down at his empty hands, then back at us, as if trying to process what had happened.

  “Looking for this?” After ejecting the clip and engaging the safety, Grant held up the gun.

  “Aw shit, he’s running.” I groaned, waving a hand at the perp who was rapidly getting away. “Why didn’t you knock him out?”

  “He’s human. That’s your jurisdiction.” Flashing me a cocky smile that had a couple of the previously mentioned bubbles popping back up, he held out his hand. “I’ll hold your bag while you knock him out?”

  “Seriously?” I slammed the purse into his hand after retrieving my gun.

  “He’s getting away.”

  Letting my wrap float to the ground, I kicked off my shoes and started running, pumping my arms as I screamed at the guy to stop.

  A pale face looked back at me, eyes widening.

  “If I’d knocked him out, you’d rail on me for not believing you can look after yourself.” Damn him, Grant didn’t even look out of breath, keeping up an easy loping stride beside me. Meanwhile I was huffing, forcing my short legs to work twice as hard.

  “Want me to catch him for you?”

  “Screw off,” I shot back, pulling a burst of speed out of my ass. “And you,” I yelled, close enough that I could nearly reach out and touch the junkie. I could certainly smell him, the wind whipping around my face perfumed with eau de unwashed. “You asshole, I’m a cop! Freeze motherfucker!”

  “A bit cliché, but hot.”

  Ignoring Grant, I lurched forward.

  The guy twisted, his eyes widening. His mouth fell open as he lost his balance, falling on his ass and skidding across the tarmac.

  Slamming on the brakes, I skidded to a stop before approaching him with caution. Never knew what kind of shit a junkie could pull from his pockets.

  He held his hands out, waving them in the air. “No! I’m sorry! Please don’t eat me!”

  I pulled up short. “Eat you?”

  “Him! The wolf!”

  Startled laughter came from behind me. “No offense, but you stink, kid.” Grant came up alongside me, shaking his head. “And you’re not my type.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You have a type?”

  “Yeah; short, curvy, with crazy hair. Gotta have a smart mouth, too.”

  The junkie’s head whipped back and forth between us. “This guy talking about you, lady? You gonna let him eat you?” he whispered, sounding shocked.

  “Yeah, you gonna let me eat you?” Grant slid out of elbow range with a smirk on his face.

  Ignoring the one who thought himself hilarious, I put on my stern face. “I’m a cop, not a lady.” And I wished I was carrying a set of handcuffs. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  “No, Ma’am.” The kid—which he really was, underneath the grime and tough living—rocked back and forth, tucking his knees up into his chest. “Don’t want the wolf man getting ideas. Nope. No ideas. I’m too stinky.” His voice lowered as he continued mumbling to himself, rocking harder.

  Taking my purse back from Grant, I dug my phone out and dialed the front desk, requesting back up to transport the kid back to the station. Still keeping a safe distance from him, I crouched down, catching his attention. “You screwed up big time, kid.”

  “Supposed to be easy.”

  “How did you know I’m a wolf?” Grant’s question was so left field, it took me a moment to track back in the conversation.

  “The man. Thought he was telling stories.” He scratched his arms, digging what was left of his nails into the skin in a desperate attempt to ease the itch in his blood.

  I snapped my fingers in front of his face. “What man?”

  “Big bad wolf. Chasing the dream. Supposed to get money, chase the dream…”

  Grant squeezed my shoulder. “He’s losing it. How long until backup?”

  “Five minutes,” I replied, keeping my attention on the kid. “What man?”

  “Supposed to pull the trigger. Bang, bang.” The kid jerked, the whites of his eyes showing. “Reward.” His gaze locked on Grant. “Sorry. I really like dogs.”

  “An animal lover.” I couldn’t keep the amusement out of my voice as I bit my bottom lip to hold back a snigger.

  “Yup. Dogs love me, too!”

  Damn. He looked all of fourteen, staring at me with wide eyes and a hopeful expression.

  “I don’t think this dog wants your affection.” I jerked a thumb at the hunk of muscle standing behind me.

  “Everyone suddenly thinks they’re a fucking comedian,” Grant grunted.

  Peering into the kid’s eyes, I assessed him. “You going to cause any more trouble for us?” I snapped my fingers in front of his face again, repeating my question four or five times, until he blinked at me.

  His scratching paused as he chewed ferociously at his bottom lip, fingers tapping and knees bouncing. “I’ll try not to.”

  “Good enough for me. Up you go, then.”

  “You’re letting him go?” Grant didn’t sound annoyed, more intrigued.

  “No. We’ll get him booked in and I’ll call around, see if I can find him a space in one of the juvie dry out clinics.” The kid wavered on his feet and I sent up a silent prayer that he didn’t collapse. I’d really pre
fer not to have to grab him wearing my civvies and dolled up for a date.

  A date that was now going to have to be canceled.

  Damn. I was hungry. “Tell me again, why didn’t you just grab him when you disarmed him?”

  I almost jumped out of my skin when Grant’s arms curled around my waist, pulling me into a hug. His chin came down on top of my head, his voice rumbling through me on his reply, “Because you can look after yourself. You’re a capable, strong woman, who doesn’t need a man to get the job done.”

  The kid pursed his lips, staring at the pair of us like he didn’t know quite what to think. “Wow. Keep him,” he finally said, nodding his head vigorously.

  I was glad that Grant couldn’t see my face, because I was pretty sure it was frozen in a state of shock. If only I could keep him. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I forced a shrug. “Don’t think I forgot your crack about crazy hair.”

  “I happen to love crazy hair.”

  Well, heck.

  Luckily, the patrol car pulled up and I didn’t have the time to think of a comeback. Or the chance to throw myself at him.

  Either, or.

  “You don’t have to come down to the station,” I said, once the kid was safely ensconced in the back of the car. “It’s going to be boring paperwork and it’ll be late when—”

  A hand landed over my mouth. “We’re still on a date.” He grabbed my hand, leading me over to where his SUV was parked, detouring to retrieve my shoes and wrap.

  I trailed behind him. “Yeah, about that … sorry.”

  Holding the door open for me, he tilted his head as I slid in. “What are you apologizing for?”

  “Ruining the date.”

  “First of all, you didn’t ask for us to be mugged.” He braced his hands on the roof, leaning into the car. “And secondly, it was fun.”

  I scrunched my nose up. “Fun?”

  “Mandy … bella …” He brushed a hand against my cheek, his mouth twisting in a wry smile. “We have a lot in common, including our choice of career.”

  “And that’s your idea of fun, being held at gun point?” I chose not to investigate the wave of relief that rushed through me.

  “It’s not like he could have actually hurt me.” He leaned closer, his lips brushing my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine as he breathed against my ear. “And I would never let anything bad happen to you, not on my watch.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into him, my cheek brushing against the stubble on his jaw. “You’re not always around.”

  He drew back, pinning me in place with eyes glowing silver, and I missed his touch with a fierceness that shocked me. “From now on, I will be.”

  Chapter Nine

  Grant

  Mandy had been quiet the whole drive back to the station. Sure, I’d caught her sneaking glances in my direction, but her eyes had always slid away, as if they’d never been there in the first place.

  My hands tightened on the steering wheel, the silence of the car surrounding me. I’d sent her in ahead, telling her I’d catch up. Truthfully, I needed a moment to try and screw my head on right.

  Tonight had been too much, too soon. I released the wheel with a groan, then slammed my palm back down onto the unyielding surface, throwing my head back and squeezing my eyes shut.

  Being with her was easy. That was my excuse. Easy to forget everything we had going against us and live in the moment, enjoying her company. I had to keep reminding myself that, in her eyes, we didn’t know each other that well, and humans liked to get to know someone before they made a lifelong commitment.

  Knuckles rapping on glass had my eyes flying open. I hit the button, winding down the window.

  “You okay?” Kel peered at me, dark stubble lining his jaw and shirt wrinkled, indicating that he’d yet to go home tonight. When I grunted, he tapped a finger on the car door. The man looked like he had a lot on his mind. “That was good work tonight.”

  I shrugged, the movement forcing my shoulders to relax. “It was all Mandy.”

  “She’s a good cop.” He huffed out a breath, scratching at his jaw, his eyes narrowing as if surprised to feel the day’s growth under his nail. “She’s going to be a while yet. How about I take you for a drink?” I’d been in the business long enough to recognize an order, especially when veiled as a question.

  Swallowing my sigh, I nodded. “Sure. I’ll just let her—”

  “I’ve already spoken to her. She’ll buzz me when she’s done.”

  Okay, then.

  Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, he stepped back, indicating that I get out of the car. “We’ll go to Riley’s across the street. They do mean nachos. Fully loaded.”

  “As long as they stock a decent beer, I’m in.” After securing the SUV, I followed him to the bar, which was busier than I’d thought it be, given that it was a week night. The interior was that of a typical sports bar, with booths lining the wall on the right and tables dotted through the center. Over at the back, pool tables attracted a crowd, the noise competing with the large, flat screen that was bolted to the wall above the stained, mahogany bar that ran the length of the room along the left-hand side. The patrons were a mix of uniform and plain clothes, but every single one of them was a cop, their eyes giving them away as they checked us out, dismissing the threat upon seeing Kel. A couple of hands lifted in greeting before going back to their conversations.

  “What’ll you have?” The barman was a burly guy, tatted up with a scar bisecting his right eyebrow. Looked like a mean motherfucker, and I wouldn’t have pegged him as a cop straight off the bat, but the way his eyes met and held mine without flinching finally gave him away. Cop or military, possibly both at one time in his life.

  Bracing my arms on the bar, I surveyed the bottles nestled in the fridge. “The strongest beer you’ve got.”

  “Coming right up. Usual, Kel?”

  At the Lieutenant’s reply, he hustled to get the drinks, setting them down in front of us with a flourish. “You boys look like you need these tonight.” His mangled eyebrow tried to arch as he not so subtly dug for information. Of course, all of the cops at the station now knew that shifters were running around in-house, playing at being cops, and they knew who was in charge of keeping us under control. So, I was guessing he had a damn good idea of who he was looking at.

  “It’s been a long day, Brian.” Kel drained half of his glass, having opted for draught straight from the pump. Licking the foam off his lips, he let out a satisfied sigh. “Set us up with the nachos, fully loaded, will ya?”

  “You’d better triple that order,” I said, tilting my bottle and taking a gulp. Ice cold beer swilled in my mouth before rushing down my throat, smooth and bitter and hitting just the right spot. “I eat a lot.”

  “Of course you do.” Brian winked at me, before strolling away to put our order in.

  I stared after him. Did he just—?

  Kel chuckled. “Brian Riley likes his men as stacked as he is.” Draining another fifth of his drink, he set it down. “I think you caught his eye.” His eyes blatantly asked me if I had a problem with that little fact.

  Not looking away, I shrugged. “Unfortunately, I like my partners softer and curvier, but each to their own.”

  “Now that’s just a damn shame.” Brian was back, this time with a grin on his face. “And a waste. Isn’t it, Kel?”

  Only years of practice kept my poker face intact. Not that I gave a damn what anyone did in their personal time, but I hadn’t seen that one coming. At all. And to think, I thought I was reasonably good at reading people.

  Whatever. Love was love, and if someone was lucky enough to find it, they should grab hold of it and hold on tight.

  Kel had stiffened, but the change in his posture was only really noticeable to someone with shifter senses.

  “Count yourself lucky; you wouldn’t be able to handle me.” I winked at Brian, who threw his head back, letting out a laugh that cut through the sound of the foo
tball match playing on the big screen.

  “Not that you’re going to let me have the chance to prove myself.” Brian snagged Kel’s empty glass and refilled it, setting it back in front of his friend.

  Snagging a couple of stools, I dragged them over and pushed one toward the Lieutenant. “Might as well take a load off.”

  I was halfway through my beer and nearly drooling at the smell coming from behind the bar, where the kitchen must be located. My stomach growled, agreeing with me. This had been a good idea, though I felt guilty for eating while Mandy was still working.

  Kel muffled a chuckle against the rim of his glass. “Brian’s already sent over a portion to Mandy. Don’t worry, she’ll be in nacho nirvana by now.”

  “You a mind reader?”

  “I know what guilt looks like and I know my girl. She loves her food.”

  Yet another thing we had in common. Talk turned to sports, then graduated to trash talk, as we demolished the first two plates of food, licking our fingers and fighting over guacamole while polishing off another round of drinks. Brian spent most of his time propping up our end of the bar, only disappearing when someone demanded to be served. Not once did Kel bring up anything to do with work or our reason for being here, keeping the conversation easy and flowing.

  “You really can eat.” Brian set the third plate down directly in front of me when Kel waved him off, patting his stomach with a grimace.

  “Shifter metabolism.” Scooping up a chip, I loaded it up, popping it into my mouth. My wolf was wallowing in the background, overdosing in a blissed-out food coma.

  “I bet you don’t even have to go to the gym to work it off.” Brian sounded wistful while he polished the counter.

  My grunt of affirmation was met with good natured scowls.

  “Any gay shifters out there?”

  My hand paused, chip halfway to my mouth. “Not as many as you’d think, but yeah. I don’t know if it’s something to do with the animal’s biological drive to procreate that make it a smaller number, or if more of our kind are…” I searched for the words while filling my mouth.