Bear This Heat (A BBW Shifter Romance) (Last of the Shapeshifters)

by Grace, A. E.

  “Don’t scare him,” she said into her radio. “Just tell him to wait for me. I’m only a few minutes away.”

  She rounded a corner, saw the same man, big and tall, standing with his hands up, and two uniforms nearby, hands on their holsters.

  Fuck, Sasha thought. They didn’t have to act like they were reaching for their guns. She stopped the car, saw the man bend down to look in the window and laugh.

  He greeted her by name as she climbed out of the car, and that puzzled her for a split-second before she remembered that her picture had been in the Sentinel that morning.

  “I did want to speak to you,” she said, answering his question. She turned around to look over the top of her car at him, and she regarded him for a moment. He was strikingly handsome. It was oddly arresting. Jenny hadn’t been lying about that, she thought. She watched as his strong jaw clenched, and then his lips curled into a curious smile.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  Sasha blinked. She looked into his deep-set sea-green eyes, and saw that behind the shine was a shadow of secrets. She was surer than ever that his presence in her town wasn’t a coincidence.

  “What’s your name?” she asked. She folded her arms and walked around the car, coming face to face with the man. She hadn’t really been able to appreciate just how large he was until she was mere feet away, utterly dwarfed, and standing in his shadow. In the hot day, she smelled his body, faint, lingering beneath the fading cologne or deodorant he had on. It was intimate, and made her take a small step backward. She masked it by gesturing at the two uniforms to take a walk.

  At least she had gleaned that he’d been out for a while. For some reason, the thought of removing her sunglasses entered her mind, like how they did it in the movies, but she wasn’t going to. She didn’t want any disadvantage that might be lurking in her eyes to be seen.

  The man, still smiling, his eyes sparkling as though he were enjoying this all, took a moment to reply. “Why?”

  “Because I’m asking you,” Sasha said. She studied his face, saw the sharp angles, admittedly kissable lips, and a cool confidence.

  “Dylan.”

  “Dylan? Is that all? No family name?”

  “Dylan Macready.”

  “Well, Mr. Macready, now that we’ve-”

  “Call me Dylan,” he interrupted, grinning at her. “Please.”

  Sasha blanched. “Let me tell you, Dylan, there’s nothing funny about this. Where were you this morning?”

  “What time?”

  Sasha shook her head. “Uh-uh. Why don’t you just tell me all the places you were this morning. Start at the very beginning.”

  “Let’s see, at the very beginning of the morning… so that’s what, one second past midnight? I was in a car. Then for a moment I was not in the car. Had to take a leak. You know, when nature calls. Then I got back into the car-”

  Sasha cut him off, and kept the irritation out of her voice. If he wanted to play games, she wasn’t going to be a sucker for it. “Since you arrived in town, please. And don’t fuck with me. I’m having a shit day and I have the power to make yours worse.”

  His smile widened “Well, when you put it that way. To be perfectly honest with you, I’ve been Sightseeing. This was after I got out of the car, by the way.”

  “Sightseeing, huh?” Sasha echoed, looking to the two uniforms and smirking. “Like what you’ve seen so far?”

  “Nope.”

  “So where are you parked?”

  “I don’t have a car right now.”

  “Who drove you here?”

  He gave her an exaggerated shrug. “Friend.”

  “So, this friend of yours,” Sasha started, but stopped when she saw the glint in his eye. Beneath his parted lips were slightly imperfect teeth that seemed only to add to his completely annoying charm. “Something I say tickle you… Dylan?”

  “No,” he said. He wiped sweat from his forehead with his fingers, the bulge of his muscular arm straining his t-shirt. The guy was built solid. “I’m just enjoying our chat, that’s all.”

  “Why would you enjoy talking to the police?”

  “Because this particular police officer,” he said, gesturing vaguely up and down her body. “Is hot stuff.”

  Sasha ignored him. “Who is this friend of yours?”

  “Just a friend.”

  “Come on,” Sasha said, leering at him. “You can trust me. I’m a police officer. I’m a good guy.”

  “Are you? Well, in that case, his name’s Chris. He drives a truck. That’s all I got.”

  “And he’s your friend, is he?”

  “You could say that. We got along. Chatted a bit. He didn’t invite me around to meet the kids and have some supper, though. So we’re not really best buds. I hitched a ride, you see.”

  Sasha narrowed her eyes at the man. He seemed to be daring her, and when his olive orbs darted from her to the uniforms, she was certain of it. Why would he try to make her feel uncomfortable, or get her backpedaling, if he had nothing to hide?

  “Where were you dropped off?”

  “By the sign that says ‘Welcome to Salty Springs’. Why do they call it that, anyway?”

  “You can read a brochure when we’re done.”

  He laughed. “That’s not the first time somebody has told me that today, you know.”

  “Is that right? Been talking to people have you? Asking them about Salty Springs?”

  “Yes. Just the lovely lady at that small café. I think it’s called Dan’s?”

  “Yes,” Sasha said. Lovely lady? Did he mean Jenny? That was definitely an unusual way of describing her. “And nobody else?”

  “No. I’m not really a socializer.”

  “Who would have thought?”

  “I make people… uncomfortable,” he explained with exaggerated intonation.

  Sasha sighed. This guy was going to keep dodging her questions forever. He was just one of those types. Cocky and full of swagger.

  She could take him in, but her mind quickly told her that a lawyer would have a field day. Even though he matched a description, it was the description of a known drunk. Known to her since the boss had told her. She’d have to testify to that.

  No, she was going to need something better.

  “Were you around Lester Street this morning?”

  “Ah, a real question! I’m afraid I don’t know where that is, though.” Dylan rubbed his hands together, and then ran his fingers through his tussled jet black hair.

  “You sure about that?”

  He looked her up and down, and she was more than a little annoyed that his eyes settled on her breasts.

  “This is a funny way to treat newcomers. Here I am, new in town, and you guys pull police up on me. I haven’t done anything wrong. Do you just have a problem with new folks in general?”

  “We get a lot of new people around here, not all of ’em good.”

  “So I’ve heard, actually. Well, let me tell you, I’m very, very good. Now, detective, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go unless you arrest me.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “I don’t know.” He paused, put on a mocking expression. “I know! Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on, and I’ll tell you the honest truth if I was involved in anyway. Just so you know, the answer is ‘no’.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Dylan.” Sasha stuck out her hand. There was a small spark when he took it, something that jolted in her chest, but she cast the silly feeling aside. He held her hand firmly, swallowing it up completely. It made her feel as though she was tiny.

  “You too, Detective Monroe.”

  “Call me Sasha,” she said with sarcastic emphasis. “Please.”

  He nodded at her clothing. “Must be hot as hell in that.”

  “Stick around town for a while, Dylan. I may need to ask you some more questions.” She let go of his hand.

  “It’s okay, boys,” she said to the two uniforms. “You can go now.”

&
nbsp; As she was climbing into her car, the cool conditioned air a refreshing respite from the baking heat outside, Dylan walked around the bonnet and tapped on her driver’s side window, casting a shadow over her. She wound it down.

  “Your car needs work,” he said. “You can hear it.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured, winding the window up.

  “Oh, and tell your boys to stay off the caffeine, yeah? They’re jittery as hell.”

  “Is that right? Anything else you’d like to comment on?”

  He smiled at her, and shook his head. When he had walked half way up the block, she picked up her radio. “Five-Charlie?”

  The sound of the officer’s voice came through all crackly. “This is five-Charlie.”

  “Follow him until I say to stop.”

  “Got it, Detective.”

  “Try to keep some distance, okay?”

  “Not my first time, Detective.”

  “Thanks.”

  She sat in her car, thinking about it for a moment. Hopefully, this Dylan guy was not as smart as he thought he was.

  *

  Interviewer: So when you asked ‘cat got your-’ [Interrupted by Dylan]

  Dylan: [Interrupts. Laughs.] No, I had no idea about that. [Looks at Sasha.] Quite a coincidence, right?

  Interviewer: Did you know why you were stopped by police?

  Dylan: No idea. She had her boys almost shoot me.

  Sasha: They didn’t almost shoot you, you big drama queen. Anyway, you matched the description of a murder suspect.

  Dylan: I was obviously unarmed.

  Sasha: They were young. Quick to the draw. Anyway, you didn’t see what happened to Charlie Kinnear. They did. So I’m not surprised they were a bit jumpy.

  Dylan: Poor old man.

  Sasha: Yeah.

  Interviewer: And so what happened? This was the first time you two met, right?

  Dylan: Yeah.

  Sasha. Yes. I knew from the moment I saw him that he was connected to Kinnear’s death in some manner.

  Dylan: Yeah, but you got it backward.

  Sasha: Put yourself in my shoes. We’ve talked about this before.

  Interviewer: Did you have any hint that you two would, you know- [Interrupted by Sasha]

  Sasha: [Interrupts.] No, not really. I mean, he’s attractive. I definitely noticed that. Then again, I was on duty. I had to notice it.

  Dylan: I knew.

  Sasha: No, you didn’t.

  Dylan: I did.

  [Short pause.]

  Interviewer: Explain to me what was going through your mind when you told him the location of the murder scene?

  Sasha: You can’t hold someone for more than twenty-four hours unless you have something solid, right? Well, Sally Clark’s drunken testimony would be a liability if I took him in then. I had to get something on him so I could hold him for longer.

  - Excerpt from full transcript of Interview with a Shapeshifter by Circe Cole. Printed with expressed permission.

  *

  She had been delectable, Dylan thought to himself. He was beginning to realize that he was wrong. He hadn’t quenched that thirst, never exhausted that drive. It had only been lying dormant, buried under more pressing, more immediate needs. The need to find answers. The need that had brought him to Salty Springs, that had introduced him to a woman that made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

  This D.I. Sasha Monroe… she had looked like a woman used to pressure, and had no problems being in control. The thought intrigued him in a variety of ways, none of them appropriate.

  He turned around as he walked away, seeing the car still parked. He was certain she was looking at him in the rear-view mirror. She might even follow him for a while, or get one of her boys to, to see what he was up to. And that also intrigued him. What had them her so worked up that they would question a man in public like that? Granted, nobody else had been around, but the tactic smelled of desperation, and he was pretty sure was completely illegal.

  Those two uniformed policemen as well, they had acted oddly, hands quickly to their guns as though they were expecting danger. And while Dylan could certainly see why he could be considered dangerous, only someone armed with the knowledge of what he truly was could make that call. And these police officers had no idea.

  He did have one clue, though, and he didn’t doubt that it was spoon-fed to him by the lovely Sasha. Namedropping the street was definitely odd, and not something a seasoned police officer would do, and so he knew that, it wasn’t a mistake. He figured he’d take the bait – he had nothing to lose, and he might find out what all the fuss was about.

  He was beginning to think that it couldn’t be a coincidence that just days after there had been wolf sightings in the greater area that he turn up at the only logical destination to find an antsy police force quick to their side-arms. Not to mention a rather unique interest in new folks in town.

  “Lester Street,” he hummed to himself, pulling out a folded map from his back pocket. His arms glistened with sweat, but the heat was dry. He wasn’t dripping. It was just a sheen. The map of the small town was from the tourist office, and was one of those sorts of maps that were cartoon-like, off-scale and with little clipart images of the major attractions in and around Salty Springs.

  He had indeed read in a brochure why the town was called that, and the answer was as benign as it was expected. The town had first been settled because there were generous springs, the only water source for miles. The town had, at first, been called Megan Springs, after the horse of the man who found the water source. Fresh water in the desert! Rarer – and more valuable – than gemstone.

  But over time the water started to grow salty, and so the name of the town was changed to Salty Springs. But by then it had already been settled, and the people refused to move out, as people do. That was seventy years ago. Scientists had recently discovered a great underground lake sitting beneath the town, dozens of meters deep; the source of the springs. The lake was salt water, a long-lost sea caught by encroaching land, from a time when a world map would have been unrecognizable. What little fresh water had seeped through ground from the occasional rains over time had floated on the surface of the salt water, being less dense. The town of course used up the fresh water supply, and the spring water was no longer potable.

  Read a fuckin’ brochure, Dylan replayed in his mine, grinning. That waitress at the café had certainly left an impression.

  Lester Street was clear on the other side of town, and so he had a long walk ahead of him. Looking over his shoulder once again, he was a little surprised – and a little disappointed – to see D.I. Monroe’s car was gone. He had expected her to stick around just a little bit longer.

  *

  “Anything?” Superintendent O’Neill asked her as Sasha pushed through the revolving door to the police station. He seemed to always be at the front desk whenever she was getting in.

  “He didn’t incriminate himself, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Why didn’t you bring him in?”

  “On what? A description from a person you told me was a known drunk? Yeah, you want to guarantee this guy gets off on a bogus arrest technicality?”

  The superintendent puffed his chest out, and his face grew impossibly ruddier. “So you just let him go?”

  “I’ve got a car keeping an eye on him.”

  “You’re taking liberties with hierarchy today, Monroe.”

  “Same car you gave me for the search. Let me have them for the day, okay?”

  He relented. “Fine.

  “So I’ll know anything he does.”

  “What if he does nothing?”

  She looked at the square-shaped man. “There’s something odd about him, boss. I’m pretty sure he’s connected to all of this, but I’m not so sure he’s our guy.”

  “Why not?”

  Sasha shrugged. She wasn’t entirely sure. “Call it instinct. Anyway, I have a hunch he might do something soon that I can bring him in on. That way, w
e can hold him longer than just a day.”

  “Be careful, Monroe. I don’t want this getting out of hand.”

  “Yes, sir. Any news from the doc?” Sasha was still waiting on that autopsy report.

  “No, he’s still down with food poisoning.”

  “Great.”

  “Says he’ll get on it when he can.”

  “Push him, please, Sir?”

  “I will.”

  Sasha returned her thoughts to the darkly handsome Dylan Macready. “Sir, I need to borrow a car. Unmarked.”

  “Why?”

  “Suspect will recognize mine, and I need to go somewhere I think he’ll be.”

  “You should have just brought him in, Monroe. We can sit on him for twenty four hours. You’ll be able to call the lab by then, and the doctor will have done his autopsy probably. Shit, he might have had something on his person that tied him to the scene! He reached down under the desk, and Sasha heard the jingle of keys.

  “We can always bring him in anytime if that’s how you want to play it, boss. We don’t have to let him leave town.”

  “Just don’t fuck up, Sasha.”

  “Don’t worry, sir,” Sasha said, catching the keys he tossed underarm at her. “I’ll get him.”

  “Blue five.”

  Sasha looked at the car keys, and then back up at the superintendent. “Oh, come on, sir!” she cried. “Not blue five!”

  “Take it, or walk.”

  “Fine.” Sasha turned to leave, but was interrupted mid-step.

  “Monroe.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The superintendent waddled around the front desk, and approached her. His nose, like prize strawberry, was redder than ever, and his balding crown matched its shade, perpetually sunburnt. He had a look in his eyes that informed her she should brace herself. His temper was legendary.

  “What is it, sir?”

  He pointed a finger at her. “Do you need any backup?”

  “Backup? No, that would just alert him.”

  “That’s not what I meant, Sasha. Do you want James to tag along?”