Shifters After Dark Box Set

by S M Reine et al.

  Truthfully, it only took one of us to run the shop during certain hours, but our boss wanted two workers on site during peak hours. We had two other girls who worked part time and rotated shifts as needed.

  Charlie, our boss, frequently stopped in to see how things were going, but not so much lately. He spent a lot of his spare time reading if not telling stories about Greek mythology or the truth behind ancient Egyptian culture. It was riveting to hear his spin on things and it was too bad he never pursued a career in teaching.

  Charlie wasn’t just the owner, but also the manager on call. He’d never hired anyone to fill that role because it would have meant paying out a higher salary, so I had become the designated lead. Whenever someone had a complaint and asked to speak to the manager, it was me they saw.

  Luckily, we didn’t get many complaints. We sold sugar. That made most people pretty damn happy.

  “You feeling okay, Alexia?” April came into the back room and sat on the bench beside me, patting my shoulder.

  “Not really.”

  “Want me to call Beth to come fill in for you today?”

  Guilt crawled up and took a seat in my lap. I hated doing that to someone on their day off. In fact, I was notorious for taking other people’s shifts and Charlie made it a point to reprimand me for it. Not in a way that jeopardized my career in the candy field, but he didn’t want me to get burned out on work at a young age.

  When my relationship with Beckett got serious, my private life had become more of a priority than work. Now that I was single again, work was starting to fill that void, and not in a good way.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” April dashed to the register, reached in one of the drawers, and returned with a slip of paper. “I got a call this morning from someone; he was trying to get a hold of you about your car. Did you advertise our work number in your ad?”

  “Guilty. And don’t tell Charlie. I didn’t want my home number splashed in the paper for all to see, and I’m up here most of the time anyhow.”

  April twisted her hair between her fingers. “I won’t say anything, but you could get us in trouble if someone calls when he’s up here.”

  I took the paper from her hand and stared at a name and number. “What did he say?”

  “To call him?” She laughed quietly. “Go see if he’s interested. I’ll cover for you if he wants to take a look at it today.”

  “You’re a godsend,” I said in a miserable voice.

  I sat in a very unladylike position in my white skirt, hugging my stomach, my legs spread wide. We were in a private back room with our very own vending machine and luxurious water fountain. April didn’t mind the enclosed space, but I preferred sitting on the benches outside during my breaks. She handed me her phone and I called the number.

  ~ ~ ~

  Lorenzo (the potential buyer or hapless victim, depending on how you looked at it) didn’t converse much over the phone, but he did want to hear the specs. Manual transmission, new tires, ninety thousand miles, and semen in the back seat.

  I left out the last part.

  We agreed to meet at a mall I’d been to once before when I was twelve to have my ears pierced. Lorenzo stood next to a big black truck like he’d described to me. He wasn’t what I expected. He wore a pair of pale green khakis and a black tank top with writing on it. Something just didn’t feel right as I pulled into the parking space and looked at his expensive truck. But those moments are when you convince yourself that you’re overreacting and maybe he was purchasing the car for his girlfriend.

  Lorenzo towered beside his sharp, heavy-duty truck with chrome wheels and tinted windows. His straight hair was as black as the truck and fell past his shoulders. He looked Native American with his tanned skin and high cheekbones.

  I wiped my brow with my clammy hands, still feeling sick. When I turned off the engine, he slowly paced around the car and began appraising it. I stepped out and felt the scorch of heat from the asphalt.

  “Hi, I’m Alexia Knight. You must be Lorenzo.”

  “How does she run?” he asked.

  “Like a dream.”

  His eyes briefly darted to mine. I stepped back with my keys in hand so he could sit in the driver’s seat and check out the interior.

  Lorenzo looked at every detail and then glanced at the back seat. I wondered if there was a sex aura back there that psychics could see.

  “Has anyone ever worked on the transmission?”

  “Nope. But the alternator was repaired, or replaced. Don’t ask me which; I didn’t handle that.”

  “Let me see the keys,” he said eagerly.

  I hesitated, looking around.

  Lorenzo’s hands slid down his pants and stopped at his knees. “If I drive off in your car, feel free to take my truck,” he offered, tossing me his own keys. “Is this in your name or do you have a boyfriend on the papers?”

  Was he asking me about my situation?

  “It’s my car.”

  “How are you going to get around without it?” He laced his fingers together and watched me carefully. “Is someone going to drive you, or do you have another car lined up?”

  Had I been sitting, I would have squirmed in my seat. “Do you have an offer?”

  Lorenzo pinched his chin, tassels swinging from the leather bracelet on his wrist. “Your asking price and dinner. You didn’t mention a boyfriend, so I’m going to take a chance and guess that you’re just as available as this car.”

  I threw his keys and they hit the concrete with a jingle. “I’m not for sale. Get out of my car if you’re not going to buy it.”

  “I’ll double the price for a date.”

  “What the hell do I look like, a prostitute?”

  Jesus, maybe I did. His eyes scraped down my stupid miniskirt and tight-fitting orange shirt that said Sweet Treats on it. For anyone who wasn’t familiar with the area, he might have just assumed I was the sweet treat. I did a mental facepalm and tightened the grip on my keys.

  “It looks like this was a waste of your time and mine. I drove all the way out here hoping I would get a serious offer. I don’t come with the car and this isn’t a sex transaction. Get out of my car or I’m calling the police.”

  Lorenzo stood up and approached me. I nearly fled, but that stupid impulse was quashed by the logical voice in my head, once again, trying to convince me that I was overreacting.

  Except the skull and crossbones tattooed on his arm caught my eye. As did the matching design on the back of his truck window. Men who had skulls on their bodies were usually trouble.

  I backed up and he caught my arm. But gently. Not in the way that would make a girl throw her knee against a man’s balls. It was a soft touch with just the very tips of his fingers, and his features no longer appeared hard and unpredictable. Lorenzo’s brown eyes were as warm as his hands and melted me like caramel in the summer sun. To look at him, Lorenzo was a very handsome man, but I hadn’t made up my mind on his personality.

  “My offer is serious. I won’t hurt you, Alexia. I just think you’re exceptionally pretty and I want to show you I’m interested.”

  Well, hell. What’s a girl to say to that? I almost wanted to ask if he was still going to pay me double for the cootiemobile.

  “Do you really want to buy my car?”

  He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled warmly. “Not really. Sorry, it’s not what I’m looking for.” And then his eyes melted over me and my breath quickened. He really wasn’t so bad if you didn’t notice the skull inked on his left arm.

  “I need to go,” I sputtered.

  “Alexia, please don’t go without giving me your number. Let’s have one conversation and you can decide if I’m a bad guy or not. Unless you have a boyfriend.”

  Maybe it’s the mouth-twist thing girls do when someone brings up a boyfriend who doesn’t exist, but he read my expression and a satisfied look glittered in his eyes. Lorenzo pulled a pen from his back pocket and held the tip to his palm. “Number?”

 
And like a freaking zombie, I found myself reciting my home number. Why not? I’d met the worst mistake of my life in a shop full of sugar. Maybe I’d meet the man of my dreams in a rundown parking lot by a shoe store and an overflowing dumpster.

  “I’ll ask around to see if anyone I know is interested in the car,” he promised me. “I know what it’s like to have something you want to get rid of, but for some reason, it keeps hanging around like a curse.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “The car needs to go, so if anyone you know wants to take a look at it, give them my work number. Tell them about the car before they show up and change their mind—you’ve seen it, so you’ll be able to sell it better than I can.”

  He smiled. Not the kind with teeth, just a broad smile with his lips pressed together. “I’ll do that, Alexia. It was a pleasure to meet you,” he said, raising his hand in a wave. “And my name is Lorenzo Church. Friends call me Enzo, business associates call me Church, but you can call me anytime.”

  He bowed his head, and I listened to his black boots tread heavily on the pavement as he walked back to his truck.

  ~ ~ ~

  The next day, I called in sick. I’d caught a bug of some kind and it was slowly taking my body hostage. My fever hovered around one hundred degrees Fahrenheit for most of the day. Stuff like this happened a lot when I first started working at the shop. Kids collected germs, which is why I became vigilant about wiping down the counters with sanitizer. But lately, I’d been lucky with my health. I’d managed to accrue about twenty sick days, so I made the executive decision to use some of them.

  I also handled food and giving our customers Ebola wasn’t high on my list for the top ways to earn a promotion.

  It was the night of Naya’s party, but I’d already told her I wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t be able to make it. I called April at work to let her know she was still invited, but she shied out and made up an excuse about painting her bathroom the color of lemons. I really wanted to see her cut loose and have a good time. She was too young to be sitting around the house and not going to parties and dating. The strange thing was how little I knew about her, but sometimes people don’t like to show all their cards until they’re ready to go all out.

  All my blankets were piled on the floor so I could stretch out across my bed. I had turned down the air conditioning, but nothing soothed my fever and restless legs. The blinds and drapes remained closed, submersing me in darkness.

  My skin crawled, sensitive to everything. I didn’t have any violent fits of vomiting—thank God—but there was a gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach. Not hunger, but almost like when you’re at the top of the hill on a roller coaster, three seconds from going down a steep track. Odds are I had the latest bug going around, as the symptoms mimicked what I had heard about—minus the vomiting.

  The music cranked up at Naya’s apartment as her festivities were in full swing.

  Of all times to get sick.

  A knock sounded at my front door and I sat up, listening. Sometimes partygoers got lost and wound up on the wrong doorstep. My stringy brown hair covered my face and I flipped it back. Getting dressed wasn’t high on my agenda that day, so the only thing I bothered putting on was a long black tank top that fell just below my panties. I would have never worn a silly shirt like that in public because of the giant pair of red lips on the front in the shape of a kiss. Due to my fever, I would have preferred to sleep in the nude, had I not been afraid of an apartment fire and having to run naked into the arms of a fireman. Not that it would be a bad outcome.

  But then the knocking sounded again.

  “Dammit,” I murmured, dragging my bare feet across the carpet. Too tired to look out the peephole, I pressed my cheek against the painted wood. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Beckett.”

  I made some kind of a growl and thumped my head against the door.

  “Come on, Lex. Just give me five minutes and you’ll never have to see me again. I saw your ad in the paper for the car and you won’t be able to sell it without the title. I brought it over; you left it at the house.”

  Double ugh. I’d never sold a car before. Did I need a title? Damn.

  “Five minutes,” I warned, turning the locks and opening the door.

  “Jesus, Lexi, you look like shit.”

  “Thanks,” I said as he shouldered past me and casually walked inside.

  Beckett flipped on a small lamp beside the balcony door and I squinted. “By the way, you shouldn’t put your full name in the paper; that’s just fucking stupid.”

  My living room was modest with a cozy sofa facing a small window, two tan chairs, and a couple of end tables. The dining room, bedroom, and kitchen were all connected. You could essentially stand in the living room and see my entire apartment.

  A chill rolled through my body and I leaned against the cool door. “Where’s the title?”

  Beckett involuntarily dropped his eyes to my legs. Involuntarily, because Beckett had no self-control when it came to tits and ass. A sign I should have paid attention to from the beginning, but I’d naively thought I could change him.

  “You look damn sexy in that shirt, Lex. I always liked it when you wore it to bed.”

  Beckett brushed his hand through his bristly hair. It was dirty blond and styled close to his head. He just got off work because he was still wearing his black work shirt with a logo of a red duck on his left breast. The name of the bar where he worked was Ducky’s Dive.

  He walked right up to me and intimately rubbed his hands over my bare shoulders. “Let’s try it again,” he suggested in a smooth voice. “I fucked up and I want a second chance, Lex.”

  Beckett was encroaching on my space and had that look in his eyes—the one that was dripping with lust. Before I could protest, he peeled off his shirt and slid his arm around my waist, grinding his hips against mine. His mouth trailed along my neck and I felt feverish, as if it were a dream. I wanted to object, but the fight was hardly in me.

  My body trembled.

  Beckett’s hands slid over my bare hips and his fingers bit into my ass. “Ah, shit, Lex. You feel so fucking good. You have no idea how hot it feels to be near you.”

  It was a familiar feeling that suddenly made me uncomfortable. I no longer liked the way he touched me, his smell, or even his whiskey voice. My stomach knotted; I was trapped. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want his hands on me.

  A knock on the door made me jump.

  “Fuck off,” Beckett yelled out.

  I flattened my hands against his sticky bare chest and pushed. “Beckett, no.”

  Sex-filled eyes devoured me as the music from Naya’s apartment pounded like something you’d hear at a strip club.

  The light knock at the door turned into a hammering fist. “Lexi, open up the damn door,” a dangerous voice demanded.

  Austin?

  Beckett’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s that?”

  “No one.”

  “Good. Get rid of him. I want to talk, and you don’t look like you’re up for watching an ass-kicking tonight.” His muscles flexed as he laid down the threat. Being a bouncer, Beckett knew how to handle himself, not to mention he loved starting shit with other guys for no reason. All that wrestling he watched had gone to his head.

  He backed up and stood beside the balcony door with his arms folded in order to draw attention to his thick biceps. I turned around and cracked open the door. “Austin, what are you doing here?”

  Austin’s eyes hooded as he studied my face. “Are you okay?” His voice maintained a frightening level of control—a little bit like a gun about to go off.

  “I’ve got a virus. You should go; it might be contagious.”

  Being that Austin was taller than me, he had the vertical advantage of seeing over my head and into the apartment. When I heard his knuckles crack, I knew he’d caught sight of Beckett, shirtless in my living room with the smug expression he always wore.

  “Who’s in there with you?”


  “It’s just my ex. He brought the title to my car and…”

  “And he decided to mend fences by groping you in your condition?” Austin slid his jaw from left to right, something he did whenever he was pissed. Perhaps it was the slight lift of my brow, but his answer flashed across my face. Austin had a gift at reading people.

  “I want him out,” he demanded.

  I tried to shut the door, but Austin wedged his foot in.

  “Just go,” I whispered. “He’s a big guy with a temper and I’m too sick to deal with a fight.”

  Austin Cole lowered his head as well as his voice. A muscle tightened in his jaw and I knew he meant business. “You may not realize this yet, Lexi, but you’re in my pack. And nobody fucks with my pack.”

  The door pushed open and Austin stood beside me. Beckett had never looked so small.

  “Time for you to get the fuck out of here,” Austin said in a calm voice, the kind that made all my hairs stand on end.

  Beckett looked intimidated just for a split second before going into stupidity mode. “Says who?”

  Those two words had started more fights than I could even remember.

  Austin reduced the space between them to nothing and I became nervous about what was going to go down. All my furniture in ruins, lampshades torn, curtains ripped, tables smashed to pieces…

  Austin threw a hard fist into Beckett’s face and knocked him out cold. It sounded like bones cracked. I gasped when it happened and covered my mouth. There was no warning. No words were exchanged. Beckett fell to the ground like a tranquilized deer and Austin grabbed him by the ankles.

  “What are you doing?” I exclaimed.

  He dragged Beckett all the way outside. I cringed with every thump of his body down the steps but remained inside my apartment, peering through my door. Naya’s partygoers were scattered about, enjoying the balmy night air and barely paying attention.

  Austin Cole walked coolly into my apartment, closing the door behind him. “Did he hurt you?” He placed his large hand across my forehead and then touched my feverish cheek. “He put his hands on you, didn’t he? I could smash his face in for trying to take advantage of you.”