Private Dicks
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Book Details
CASE 01: Temper
CASE 02: The PI and the Rockstar
Section One
Section Two
Section Three
Section Four
Section Five
Section Six
CASE 03: Glamour
CASE 04: The Virginia Gentleman
CASE 05: The Royal Inquisitor
CASE 06: Regarding the Detective's Companion
CASE 07: The Demon Bride
Section One
Section Two
Section Three
Conclusion
CASE 08: Too Dangerous
Additional Notes
Siobhan Crosslin
K-lee Klein
Holly Rinna-White
Alison Bailey
Megan Derr
E.E. Ottoman
Isabella Carter
Sasha L. Miller
Private Dicks: Undercovers
Edited by Samantha M. Derr
Temper by Siobhan Crosslin—Reese hates deception, but that's all his life has been since he was sent to investigate a wolf pack on clashing sets of orders. Keeping his lies separated is all that's keeping him alive, and it's a job that grows harder by the day—especially with the unexpected complications of the alpha he's investigating.
The PI and the Rockstar by K-lee Klein—Mason is a detective. He’s not flashy or hip and he doesn’t have an office conducive to entertaining wealthy clients. But when made-of-money Durango and his gum-snapping daughter hire him to do surveillance on a popular rockstar named Jade Jonathan Lee, Mason’s business world collides with his personal life, and the result is a mystery that must be solved.
Glamour by Holly Rinna-White—When his little brother is kidnapped, Jason hires Eric, PI and long-time crush, to find him, terrified of what will happen if people learn his brother is unregistered psychic. But when Jason is kidnapped as well, he learns he and his brother are not the only ones keeping secrets.
The Virginia Gentleman by Alison Bailey—When the Virginia Gentleman rides into town, it's a sure bet that trouble ain't far behind. He's quick on the draw, feared by all, and one sad little group of train robbers is about to find out why it's never wise to bet on trouble.
The Royal Inquisitor by Megan Derr—Esmour is one the best Inquisitors in the kingdom, but the penance bracelets on his wrist serve as constant reminder that once he was not a master of deception, but a victim. To solve his latest case, he must work alongside the liar who changed his life, and the love he learned too late was never real.
Regarding the Detective's Companion by E.E. Ottoman—Jamie is desperate: he has no money, rent is coming due, and if he does do something soon he'll be forced back into a life of charity and pity. So when he is brought a case, Jamie takes it—even if it will mean lying to his client, manipulating the suspect and propelling himself into the middle of a plot involving murder and political intrigue.
The Demon Bride by Isabella Carter—One dead body left at the door is more than enough, but after three are left on the stoop of his father's agency and no one else is willing to investigate, Quinton decides he'll just have to solve the mystery himself.
Too Dangerous by Sasha L. Miller—Shi is good at what he does, no matter what his stupid ex thought. Danger comes with the territory, especially when that territory includes a special license to do select work for the government. But when the government needs him to fix something that defeated even their most elite, Shi learns that some situations are too much even for him.
Book Details
Private Dicks
Edited By Samantha M. Derr
Published by Less Than Three Press LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.
Temper edited by Samantha M. Derr
The PI and the Rockstar edited by Courtney Davidson
Glamour edited by Tanni Fan
The Virginia Gentleman edited by Michelle McDonough
The Royal Inquisitor edited by Ian Sentelik
Regarding the Detective's Companion edited by London Burden
The Demon Bride edited by Caitlin Penny
Too Dangerous edited by Remy Maria Ang
Cover designed by Aisha Akeju
This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.
First Edition October 2012
Temper Copyright © 2012 by Siobhan Crosslin
The PI and the Rockstar Copyright © 2012 by K-lee Klein
Glamour Copyright © 2012 by Holly Rinna-White
The Virginia Gentleman Copyright © 2012 by Alison Bailey
The Royal Inquisitor Copyright © 2012 by Megan Derr
Regarding the Detective's Companion Copyright © 2012 by E.E. Ottoman
The Demon Bride Copyright © 2012 by Isabella Carter
Too Dangerous Copyright © 2012 by Sasha L. Miller
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN 9781620040270
CASE 01: Temper
INVESTIGATOR: Siobhan Crosslin
Springtime, all clean smells and crisp air and green leaves. I stuff my hands in my pockets and walk down the sidewalk briskly, keeping my head down as I pass groups of people milling about the storefronts that line the street. My nose twitches constantly and my eyes water with every over-cologned human I brush by, despite how blunted my senses are in this form. God, there's a reason I hate these jobs.
My four o'clock is standing in the tiny park in the middle of our slice of suburban heaven with long, curly brown hair, doe-like eyes, and a collar and leash clutched between her tiny hands. I make straight towards her, and she smiles brightly when she notices me.
"Ms. Cobalt?" I ask as I come within speaking distance. She nods enthusiastically as I step onto the grass. I smile and try to appear harmless. "I'm Reese Greymist."
She nods some more, eyes wide. "You're a lot younger than I thought you'd be," she blurts. I can't help the eyebrow that shoots up, and she blushes hard enough for me to smell it. "I mean, not that you sound old over the phone or anything, I just, uh …"
I take pity on her. "You wanted me to find your dog?"
"Yes!" She thrusts the collar and leash at me. "You said to bring something that smells like him?"
I take the items gingerly and lift them to my nose. "Mm." I take a deep sniff, wrinkle my nose, sneeze loud enough to wake the dead, and sniff again. "Easier this way," I murmur. Not that it isn't already pathetically easy. I smelled this dog on the way here. "This way." I head back the way I came, and after a moment, she follows.
I can feel her staring at me as we leave the park and cross the street. When she almost runs into someone for looking at me, I sigh. "Did you have a question?" I ask.
"Oh, um, it's just …" She leans a little forward as she walks, her eyes still trained on my face. "Are you really a werewolf?"
"No," I say, sharper than I'd intended. "Werewolves aren't real," I say, a little gentler. "The whole 'changes during the full moon, you turn into one if you get bit, only killed by silver' stuff is just Hollywood magick." I pause thoughtfully. "Though silver does hurt us if it breaks the skin." She nods, expression still rapt. "I'm a wolf-type shapeshifter. It's a hereditary thing. Most people agree that we're a separate species altogether—all shifters, not just wolves."
"Ohhh. So you can actually turn into a wolf?"
"Yes, ma'am," I say, disguising a grin as another sneeze.
"That's so cool!"
I shrug and round a corner into a long, narrow alley. I pau
se. "What's your dog's name?"
"Uh …" Again, I can smell her blush. "Wolfy."
Oh god. I plaster a smile to my face, though, and walk into the alley. Wolfy? Seriously? I half-expect an angry god to strike me down as I start calling the damn dog's name, but nothing so forgiving is forthcoming. Maybe it's an homage to Terminator or something. The dog trots out, tongue lolling and looking a little dirty, but none the worse for wear. Ms. Cobalt, of course, shrieks with joy and drops down to hug the dog, which earns her a few points because, hey, the ground is filthy.
It's all very cute and touching, and I can't wait to get to my five o'clock. Again, to her credit, she turns back to me after only a few moments, and business is concluded. She hovers, body tilted forward just slightly like she wants to say something before crouching by the dog and smiling up at me instead.
Whatever. I smile at the last second when I remember it's generally good practice to be nice to customers and walk away quickly, shrugging to get rid of that weird shivery feeling that always goes through me when I know I'm acting weird around a human, but I can't figure out why. Dealing with humans is so much more trouble than it's worth. If you're a normal wolf, that is. Otherwise, it's a necessity.
I bare my teeth before I squish the reaction back. I'm glum all the way across town to the place where I'm supposed to meet my five o'clock, my mind tracing over the same ifs and ands and buts, as always, with the same result. At least being around humans isn't as hard as dealing with the pack. Most humans even like me, smile and coo and try to pet me if they catch me with my ears and tail out.
I look up when I catch a whiff of dragon. Faint, very faint, and masked. Actually, I'm probably on top of—
I whip around and snarl at the man standing within arm's length behind me. He looks surprised before the expression melts away into an easy grin. I back away and shiver as I half-shift, just enough to give me my ears, tail, and claws. Shifting completely out in the open's liable to get me smacked, but a dragon's nothing to mess with.
"Relax, wolf," the dragon says, and he slouches, makes his body language deliberately non-threatening and casual. "I'm not here to hurt you."
"Then why are you here?" I snap and try to rein in my temper.
The dragon smirks, the expression evil on his delicately-defined face. "I believe I'm your five o'clock."
I do some quick mental acrobatics and glance at the buildings around us: tall, all of them at least five stories, closed in, no alleys, and empty. A warehouse district, usually quiet until nightfall, when most businesses out here do their shipping and restocking to take advantage of the jobs so many packs in one place provides. Damn.
"Fine," I say and straighten, allowing my posture to relax, though I don't return to a fully human form. Lets the dragon know I'm still wary. I won't be full human around a dragon unless that dragon's dead or dying. I tilt my head to the building closest to us, one of Ryan's. "Shall we?"
The dragon smiles hugely, showing off canines sharper than my own, and precedes me in. I sketch my eyes over his body as I follow him in and note at least two knives and a gun in a shoulder holster. The gun's on the right side, but dragons are well-known for being ambidextrous, so that means nothing.
The warehouse is dark, full of boxes and tables and whatnot. I ignore it all and head straight to the office sitting in the nearest corner. There's a fingerprint scanner on the door, all high-tech and secure and such. I press my middle finger to the scanner and pray that this warehouse is one of the ones that just got re-kitted. Just in case I need to take down an angry dragon. God, I hate dragons.
The door opens, and I step in, turn on the lights and all that, and my eyes flick briefly over the just-slightly-ajar bottom drawer of one of the filing cabinets. Thank God.
I claim that corner of the room and turn to give the dragon my best bored and uninterested stare, even though we can both smell the faint stink of fear and adrenaline. It would be embarrassing if he wasn't a dragon. Then again, if he wasn't a dragon, I wouldn't be afraid.
The dragon gives me a long, measured look. It's nothing special, except for the very faint green cast over his black eyes, the way his pupils aren't quite the right shape. He's got vaguely Asian features and super short black hair, a row of silver hoops through the cartilage of his right ear, and a piercing through his lower lip. If he were human, I'd say he was trying too hard. On the dragon, though, it's all very appropriately badass.
He pulls something out of his jacket in a quick flick of motion, and I flinch at the smack of something hitting the table between us. "Perhaps this will assuage your fears, wolf."
I eye him for a moment before snatching up the fold of leather and retreating to my corner again. I frown down at the badge and jump through some more mental hoops.
The Syndicate is like a mix of the FBI and the federal government to the unremarkable community. They handle all the weird inter-species issues, solve disputes, and they pass the general laws that everyone has to follow—stuff like 'don't attack humans' or 'don't murder faerie gentry'. They were a little late on that second one, though. It was because of the highly public and televised assassinations of the kings and queens of three faerie courts in Britain and the subsequent war that pulled in all of the unremarkable that the humans had had to sit up and face reality. Once the dust settled, the humans decided that, since we already had our own police force, they weren't getting in on that. We manage ourselves.
Some of the exceptions to the rule, though, are shifters, dragons, and demons. We police our own, and the Syndicate doesn't get involved and doesn't tell us what to do. We're strict, especially the shifters, and there's nothing the Syndicate can do that we can't—though they occasionally drop by and tell us to cooperate before disappearing back into the ether since packs and clans have a tendency to withhold information from each other.
If this dragon's badge is real, and he really is Teinen Kiari of the Emerald Clan, then things are worse than I thought, and this'll be stepping up Ryan's plans significantly.
"What's this about?" I ask and toss the badge back onto the table. The dragon doesn't move to take it back.
"I'm sure you've at least heard whispers of the string of shifter murders and kidnappings occurring on the East Coast for the past three months." It isn't a question. Everyone knows about the murders, though the clans whose lands they've occurred on are mostly mum on the situation. "We've managed to narrow down our suspect list to a couple of packs, and—"
"You think it's wolves?" I ask, crossing my arms. "Why?"
He shrugs. "Smells like wolves, though we can't pick out any specific pack. Wolf fur, wolf bite marks. That it was wolves was one of the first things we determined."
"Why are you coming to me about this?"
He gives me another one of those long, measuring looks, and I quell the urge to squirm. Damn dragons. He shrugs eventually. "You're well-liked and respected, wolf. Fuck me if we can figure out where you came from, but people trust you."
"Yeah," I drawl. "Everybody loves Reese Greymist, finder of lost dogs and kittens. Hell, even the local packs like me enough to not kill me dead for living in one of their neighboring towns."
"Those local packs want you to pick a side," he says patiently, and I narrow my eyes.
"No, those local packs want me gone," I breathe. I shrug. "You didn't answer my question."
"The pack that we're thinking is committing these murders is Deepine. They have a niche market for spices imported directly from China. All the major distribution in the US comes from them, and almost all of the victims have trace amounts of one of these spices, an especially rare one, on them."
"Why don't you just do an analysis on the hairs you found?"
"Because you know we don't have a database with every wolf shifter's hair on tap. That sort of thing is kept by the packs themselves." An edge of irritation floats underneath the dragon's tone, and I nod slowly.
Looks like the Syndicate's screwed on this one, even if they could risk working openly, whic
h they won't. The packs would tear them apart for interfering where there's a tacit agreement of 'we don't kill you and you let us conduct our own business'. Half the reason the packs are so closeted is because most of almost every pack's revenue comes from illegal sales, debt collecting, what have you. I've heard that before the unremarkable came out and started getting openly involved with the economy, the human organization called the Mafia based a lot of their structure off of wolf packs they came in contact with.
"So what is it you want?" I ask.
"We want you to infiltrate Deepine, work up through the ranks, and find out what you can about the murders, and if they're involved."
"What makes you think I'll get anywhere? I'm an errand boy."
"Like I said, fuck if we know where you came from, but I've heard rumors you used to be an enforcer. A talented one." The dragon's tone is light, almost friendly, but I bare my teeth anyway. Ryan's going to flip his shit when he finds out someone was talking to the Syndicate.
"Fine," I say. "I'll look into submitting a bid to join." I cross the room and open the door, every hair on the back of my neck pricking up, and pause before my bravado can abandon me. "Come talk to me once I've started killing for them."
*~*~*
Shifter clans and packs are delicate things. Eternally at war with their neighbors, dominance and hierarchy are strictly controlled, and negotiations are usually less 'negotiate' and more 'murder'. Because of this, you'd think that enrollment in a pack or clan isn't all that well tracked. You'd be wrong. Enrollment is tracked meticulously: hair, blood, and tissue samples are taken, as well as fingerprints, paw prints, and depending on the species and pack, some even record your howl or cry. Attempting to join a new pack, called a bid, can take weeks or months, depending on circumstances and pack.
I know this is why people are so damn curious about me. I'm obviously socialized, which means I didn't grow up in the wild, but I'm unfamiliar with humans, so I can't have been raised by one. At the same time, I'm not on any enrollment list for a pack, anywhere, and enrollment is one of those things that every pack does, and they make sure all the Is are dotted and all the Ts are crossed, so I've got to be somewhere, right?