Power Shift (The Charming Shifter Mysteries Book 1)

  Power Shift: Book 1 in the Charming Shifter Mysteries

  By Calinda B

  Published by Sumner McKenzie, Inc.

  Kingston, WA, 98346

  Ebook Edition

  Copyright ©2015 Calinda B

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover art by Christian Bentulan

  Editing by Tina Winograd

  License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people, but it can be lent according to the retailer’s coding. If you would like to give this book to another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Appreciation

  Limitless love and thanks to the Official Sweetie Pie, my loving partner, and truly honest guy, John. Thanks to Tina Winograd, the boss-dog editor of editors! Thanks to the most awesome street team in the world, the Wicked Hot Street Team.

  And thanks to Ron and Brandon, as always, just because.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  About Calinda B

  Chapter One

  “Stop!” yelled Chia Petit as she raced through the heart of town along the pre-dawn, street-lighted road. Few were up at this time. “This is a violation of city ordinance six two seven.” Like he cares what law he’s violating.

  Her “weather inappropriate” sneakers pounded the icy road, the sound bouncing back and forth between the vacant buildings.

  In the distance, the outline of Haunted Bear Glacier was barely discernable in the moonlight. That’s where he’s headed. I’ll bet my life on it. She’d been summoned less than an hour ago, and told an unregistered bounty hunter was making his presence known in area.

  Bounty hunters had to register…state their business before they rolled through town, get business done posthaste and move along. As town manager, she made the laws, earning her the nickname Charming Queen of Rules. She tried her best to enforce said laws. All townsfolk usually complied. That’s how she knew who to look for—the male who refused to follow the rules.

  The slick, frigid road made it nearly impossible to gain any speed—not that it would help—the person she pursued was extremely tall, very fast, and very male. She, on the other hand, stood a mere five feet if she stretched tall. “Hung Durand, you son of a bitch, stop!”

  A faint laugh, low in the vocal register, sexy as hell, met her ears in response.

  The six ghosts who were her constant companions…more like constant pains in the ass…swirled around her head. They chattered and laughed excitedly in ghost-speak—ethereal high-pitched sounds to which she’d become accustomed. She batted at them—not that it would help—as they darted in front of her eyes. “Get away from me!” As usual, they obscured her vision of the blurred form in the distance, growing increasingly smaller by the second.

  Eager to share in the excitement of the pursuit, no doubt alerted by her cries, the local dog pack raced around the corner, tongues lolling, eyes bright.

  “No, no, no, no, no!” she lamented, too late. One of the dogs, a border collie named Peaty, with no flock to tend, nipped at her heel. She lost her balance and flew into a pile of cardboard boxes on a corner, awaiting breakdown for the recycling truck. The dogs circled her, licking her face, barking, and adding to the mayhem. “Dag nab it,” she yelled, struggling without success to get to her feet. “You mess of mongrels made me lose him.” Like I would’ve caught him, anyway.

  Another dog, a huge, beautiful brown and white husky, with a thick, lush coat, licked her face extra vigorously, his glacier blue eyes glimmering.

  Chia pushed him away with her palm, disgusted. “Stop it. I hate having my face licked.”

  Undeterred, he began humping her leg, his tongue dangling from his mouth, his eyes practically rolling back in his head with ecstasy.

  She shoved at him, appalled, letting out a few choice curse words.

  And then, with a burst of light, he shifted into Cecil Carpenter, the town drifter and barhopper, his hairy human legs trapping her jeans covered thigh.

  “Get off of me, Cecil! And cover yourself!”

  Cecil laughed, rolled to his side and stood, stretching. “Great game, Ms. Manager. Who were we chasing?” He scratched at his crotch, seemingly unaware of his naked form.

  The rest of the pack, real dogs, sat and nipped at fleas, chewed, licked, rolled on the sidewalk, or rooted in the boxes for something to eat.

  “I can’t un-see what I’ve just seen, you moron. I said, cover yourself.” Chia put her hand in front of her face, trying to shield her view of him. She raised her sleeve to her cheek to scrub off his slobber.

  He picked up a piece of cardboard and held it over his hips. “Settle down, captain. Haven’t you ever seen a male body before?”

  “Of course I have.” Just left a fine one this morning to race after Hung Durand. And my ovaries are pissed at me for leaving. “I prefer to choose the male whose body bits I’m viewing.”

  “Hey! These are no bits, I assure you.” He shifted the cardboard, cupped himself and shook the flesh in his palm, still slightly turgid.

  “Ack! Stop with the show and tell!”

  He quickly covered himself with the cardboard. “Sheesh. Calm down. Here, let me help you.”

  She accepted Cecil’s hand and easily got to her feet, prompted by the tug of his strong arm. Suddenly remembering he had just jingled his junk with the hand she held, she jerked away, thinking, Ew! Brushing herself off, she answered his previously asked question. “The bastard I was chasing was none other than Hung Durand.”

  Cecil whistled. “Dang. You’ve been trying to snag him for years.”

  “Ever since I became town manager. He’s the only one who’s ever evaded me, the son of a bitch.” Her ghosts calmed and draped themselves across her torso like wet paper. She plucked at one of them, the ghost of sexual transgressions, peeling it away from her and flinging it into the sky.

  It spun, startled, eye sockets wide. Then settled back on her torso, letting loose whiffs of pheromones and the scents of hot, tawdry sex.

  “Go away!” she protested, her loins beginning to ache in response. At the “prime breeder age” of her mid-twenties, or so her shifter friends said, she often found herself following the directive of her hormones, rather than the task at hand. In other words, she often felt consumed by horny, lusty thoughts and sensations. She longed for a boyfriend or two but pickings were slim in these parts. If she were honest, she’d admit she hungered for Hung, but she refused to allow that pesky little fact to get near her head.


  Cecil chuckled. “Can’t get rid of em, can you?” Being a canine shifter, he was one of the few who could see her ghosts.

  “Oh, I can, but it means reliving and sorting through pieces of my past I’d rather forget. It means dealing with emotions. I’m too busy for that,” she said, thinking, mind your own beeswax.

  She walked gingerly along the frozen sidewalk, her breath forming white clouds with each exhale. Sneakers are so not appropriate for this weather, she muttered inwardly. She tugged her winter parka around her body. At least I managed to find my coat this morning. Whoever took my winter boots is going to pay. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee? Coffee shop should be opening in about fifteen.”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  “Can you find some clothes first? You know how touchy people get when a naked shifter appears in their line of sight.” She glanced at his bare-assed form, the cardboard once again clutched to his hips. A hairy chested man wasn’t on her list of turn-ons but Cecil had a nice covering of dark blond hair…nice pecs…fine abs…and… She blinked rapidly. What are you doing? The man humped your leg, for God’s sake. And he’s a town drifter—No job. No goals. Not even a house to call his own. Only a guy in search of a good time.

  His eyes danced as he regarded her, as if he’d spied on her thoughts.

  “What? Do you or don’t you have any clothes to change into?” she huffed.

  “As a matter of fact…wait here.” He slipped down a dark alleyway.

  Chia waited, thinking about Hung Durand, wondering how she’d ever manage to get the wily bastard. What’s he doing here anyway? The last time we had contact, he assured me I’d never see him again. And I assured him, if I ever saw him again, he would be a dead man.

  Her panties grew wet in protest to her bold declaration. Like his name, the guy was hot, hung, and sexy as hell. They’d almost had sex a time or ten ago. Okay, last time. Okay, every time I see him we almost have sex. She gritted her teeth as her inner truth-telling continued to taunt her. You want him, dead, remember, dead? Disgusted with herself, she blew out a gust of breath.

  A few minutes later, Cecil strode out of the alleyway, wearing grubby jeans, a whitish color wool fisherman’s sweater, and winter boots that had seen better days. Strips of duct tape wound around one of the boots to keep the sole from flopping like a circus clown shoe.

  “Where’d you get those clothes?”

  “Down the way.” He stabbed his thumb toward the alley. “I try to keep spares around town when I go on the prowl. Snag them from the Goodwill drop-off before they get put into the store. You never know what can happen in the night.” He winked.

  “Are you ever going to grow up?”

  The look he gave her—like she needed her head checked—almost made her laugh.

  She gawked at his scruffy appearance lit by a lantern shaped streetlight. Two days' beard stubble, messy brown hair, mischievous pale blue eyes, he’d be attractive if he made the effort. “You ever get laid looking like that?”

  He barked out a laugh, his eyes twinkling. “Are you propositioning me?”

  “Ew, no.” She brushed aside his comment and tromped toward the coffee shop.

  “What do you mean you’d have to relive your past?” he asked, referring to her earlier statement about her ghosts, pushing aside his bushy mop of hair.

  “You want to go here or across the street?” Chia asked him, pointing to the two rival coffee shops in town, ignoring the question. His query bordered on personal, something she was loath to share with anyone. These ghosts represented her most shameful, horrific actions in this lifetime. The only way she’d ever get rid of them was to deal with the act, apologize to the person or persons involved, and with her luck, have to do community service or penance or some such.

  She’d decided long ago to keep her secrets, deny her transgressions, and live with the pesky things. She stared at her red sneakers, desperate to not have to answer. “Man, my feet are freezing. It’s warm for this time of year, but it must be, what, seventeen degrees? Twenty? Are you cold? You don’t have a jacket.”

  “Me? Nah, my husky spirit keeps me as warm as toast. You should try me sometime.” He leered at her. “I’m better than a bonfire.”

  “No, thanks. You’ve shown me what you’ve got by humping my leg.” She shuddered.

  “Hey! That was instinct at play. When I’m in dog form, I can’t control my actions. I’m an unneutered male,” he added, as if that explained everything. “Jeez.” Appearing offended, he swung open the door to his chosen café, Sunshine Sally’s, for her to enter.

  They strolled toward the counter. A wood fire blazed in the gigantic fireplace. Logs snapped and crackled. Dead deer, bison, elk, and moose stared blankly into space from their perches on the wall. Antlers arranged as chandeliers hung over the heads of patrons. Chia had once threatened to hang human bones in the café, too, “in keeping with the spirit of death in here.” They’d only laughed at her, affectionately calling her a soft-headed liberal. She didn’t consider herself affiliated with any political party—she simply didn’t like dead things on display. Let them rest in peace and dignity.

  She waved and nodded at the patrons, mostly fishermen and guys who worked at the boatyard. Two stern looking fellows she didn’t recognize sat in the far corner. They looked up as she strode through, then leaned in close to one another and began to talk, taking sneaky glances in her direction. Who the hell are you? She scrutinized them for a moment, thinking them transient fishermen. A few hung-over revelers from the night before, their eyes bloodshot and faces yellowish and waxy from drink, clutched mugs of coffee like lifelines. “You might want to head home and sleep it off, boys.” She tapped their table with her knuckles.

  “With you?” one of them said. “I’m in.”

  They all guffawed.

  “Sorry, my dance card’s full.” Sort of…okay, not really.

  She scoffed and started to swish by them, when one of them said, “She’s got her eye on the rebel bounty hunter.”

  “Yeah, Hung Durand,” another said, making a lewd gesture with his hand. “I hear he’s back.”

  She whirled to face the table. “The only thing I want from that rat bastard is a clean shot right between the eyes.” She held an imaginary rifle, aimed, and fired, making a loud sound.

  The ghosts, startled from their slumber, shot to the ceiling. Recovering, they drifted back and settled around her calves and thighs.

  She shook her leg, trying to dislodge them, momentarily forgetting no one besides Cecil could see them. They’d probably wonder what the hell she needed to shake her leg for. Goddamn pests.

  “Yeah, right,” the first one said, and they all laughed. “Is that your bounty hunter dance? Needs some work.”

  “You’ll see,” she said, confidently, striding away from them.

  When she and Cecil had taken space at the counter, she whispered, “What am I going to do? He’s eluded me for years.”

  “It’s about to turn into a bigger problem, honey,” said Fawn, the friendly, chubby waitress who worked the counter in the morning. “Love the pink streaks in your hair, by the way. Against your dark hair, they make you look edible, like a dark chocolate cupcake with pink frosting.”

  “I’d like a nibble,” Cecil said.

  “No, no and hell no.” Chia rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Fawn.”

  The two men sitting in the corner stood and sauntered toward the counter. As they passed by her back, their voices grew louder.

  “Yep, I hear new leadership is coming to Charming,” one of them said.

  “About time,” the other remarked. He jabbed her back with his elbow.

  “Hey! Watch yourself!” Chia snapped.

  The men ignored her.

  “Who the hell are they? And what are they talking about ‘new leadership’?” Chia’s face furrowed into a frown. She glanced at the TV screen. The logo of Lemming News blared from the corner like a beacon. Hate that news show, she thought. A picture of her face blipped across the
screen. “Hey! Why am I on the news?”

  Fawn picked up the remote and switched the channel.

  “Turn that back on. I want to see.”

  “I’m trying to tell you.” She poured them each a cup of coffee and slid the cream and sugar their way. “Like I was saying. Back to your problem. Like your job?”

  A chill spread along her scalp, even though it must be ninety in here from the blazing fire. “What do you mean? I love this job. I’m good at it. I manage the shape shifters, the vamps, all the supes like no one else. Maintain peace among the strange and stranger. I keep the town running like a good fishing trawler. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

  “That’s what I thought. Then you’d better find Hung Durand and improve your reputation in the community.”

  Chia bristled. “My reputation is fine.”

  “Not if you don’t catch the bounty hunter. Not this time. Some folks are grumbling about him. He’s nothing but a nuisance. A fine piece of eye candy, but a nuisance nonetheless.”

  “Whatever. He’s all right.” Chia swept her hand through the air. She tried to ignore Cecil’s stare and her own raging hormones, screaming, He’s the hottest male in Alaska! “What are you looking at?” she said to Cecil, feigning indifference.

  “Someone else has got Hung in his sights,” Fawn said.

  “Who’s that?”

  Fawn placed her palms on the wood top, leaning toward them conspiratorially. “Red Mountainbear.” She enunciated each word like revealing a sacred secret.

  “That guy from upstate? Near Fairbanks? With the reputation as a blowhard?”

  “That’s the one.” Fawn’s head bobbed up and down. “That’s his news show I switched off. The one with your picture.”

  Chia’s eyes narrowed. “What about him? What does he have to do with me?”

  “He’s coming to town and he wants your job. He’s determined to show he’s a better man. He wants Hung’s head on a platter, and he’s just the hunter who can do it.”