Power Shift (The Charming Shifter Mysteries Book 1) Page 7

  Although everyone knew the bounty hunter registration laws, the shifters lived by a “don’t ask and we won’t tell” kind of code. In other words, as long as no one got hurt, they didn’t need to snitch.

  She turned in the opposite direction of town, heading toward the rocky outcropping where the arcane clan gathered. Even in her wine sloshed state, she managed to avoid most of the potholes on this desolate road. Her truck seesawed along, lurching and sliding in the muddy places, much as she would have done had she been on foot.

  Spying the dim lights of the club ahead, she parked several yards away and got out of the Jeep, her ghosts still apparently snoozing on her body. “Good that you guys are getting some rest,” she said, sarcasm evident. “Or are you sleeping it off?” She reached for her leather chest holster, strapped it on and stuck one of her revolvers—a robust Smith and Wesson—in the opening. After that, she pulled on her coat and wove her way toward the hundred-year-old timber lodge. She knocked on the iron door with her fist. A tiny door slid open and a gold and green shimmering eye appeared in the peephole.

  “What do you want, Chia? This is a private club,” the bouncer said.

  “I need to ask some of your members about something. It’s vitally important. It could mean the difference between peace and war in our fair hamlet.” A heavy sigh followed, the peephole covering slid closed and the bouncer yelled something to the inhabitants. Then the gigantic, heavy portal eased open.

  Chia walked in, still unsteady, her eyes adjusting to the extremely low light. Her ghosts stayed sandwiched to her body as if they were tired. She didn’t possess the visual skills many of the shifters possessed. Nor did she possess their hearing ability. Or their scent capturing ability, for that matter, save for her ability to sniff out bounty hunters, one in particular.

  She lifted her nose and sniffed the air, but her olfactory senses were assaulted by wet fur, sweat, marijuana, tobacco, alcohol, and other assorted smells. No scent of Hung. Once her eyes adjusted, she peered around the now silent room, removing her gloves and shoving them in her jacket pocket.

  Several sets of eyes peered back at her, most human, some in their animal form. It gave her the heebie-jeebies to be the focus of attention, as if she were prey. Once they seemed satisfied she was who the bouncer apparently said she was, their eyes turned away and talking resumed. After taking a deep breath of relief, she sauntered to one of the tables, occupied by a few of her shifter friends. “Boys,” she said, nodding to the males. “Carmen,” she said, nodding to the lone female. “Any of you seen Hung Durand?”

  They all looked askance at one another, avoiding her eyes.

  “It’s important. All of your lives could be in danger if I don’t find him.”

  “We don’t know anything,” the bobcat shifter said. He lifted his glass of greenish sparkling liquid and drained it.

  “Not a thing,” a wolf shifter said, his golden glowing eyes darting toward the corner of the room.

  She turned to look in the direction he’d cast his gaze and spotted a staircase. “Okay,” she said, rapping the wood table with her knuckles. “Thanks anyway.” She turned and wobbled toward the staircase, hoping she didn’t appear too out of it. That was too easy. Maybe my day’s about to turn around.

  Upstairs, wandering through the brothel, which harkened back to the 1800s, she trekked along the narrow staircase, lined with a worn paisley wool rug. The walls were lined with old tintype portraits of historical figures, sternly gazing out of the paper reality as if in perpetual judgement.

  Hearing the moans and groans from satisfied coupling inside the rooms, she searched for clues. The last door on the left revealed no sound whatsoever. Light shone from underneath the door. She doubted if the participants were sleeping and they were far too quiet to be doing anything else. Suspicious, she lifted her hand and softly rapped.

  “Come in,” called a weary female voice.

  She turned the crystal door handle and let herself into the room.

  Ruby, one of the local whores, lay propped against the headboard, bare breasted, the sheets in disarray around her. Her beautiful face appeared annoyed, obsidian eyes glaring at her hands as if wishing they held something other than a wad of silk bedding. Her bluish black hair looked messed from pleasure.

  “How’s it going?” Chia asked the voluptuous woman.

  “It goes,” the woman said, avoiding Chia’s gaze.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, I was in the middle of a very satisfying encounter, when you showed up.”

  “I don’t see anyone in here. Is he under the bed?” Chia, missing the clue, smiled, wanting to reassure Ruby she meant no harm. She sniffed the air, but there were too many competing smells in the dank room to discern Hung Durand. Unless…maybe…is that his smell? Nah.

  “No, he’s not under the bed,” the prostitute muttered. One of her ring clad hands reached for the joint still smoldering on the side stand.

  “Where is he?”

  Ruby reached out and fiddled with the ashtray, as if rearranging it. “He told me you could smell him. I guess that’s a lie, huh?” The woman brought the hand-rolled joint to her lips and inhaled.

  “What?” Too late, Chia caught the true smell of Hung, mixed with the scent of weed and sex.

  He dropped to the floor, directly behind her, wrapping his powerful hand around her mouth, as he did in her SUV this morning.

  She yelped into his warm hand, inhaling the strong fragrance of musk, body odor, and alcohol emanating from his skin.

  He pressed his entirely too-naked, muscle-laden body into her fully clothed back, his head lowering to nuzzle her hair. “Come to play, did you? Ruby and I were about done. I’m all warmed up for you.” His hand slid down to her throat, tipping her head back against his chest as he ground his massive erection against her. He moved in slow circles, his other hand finding her breasts, in the same way he’d found them earlier today—without the barrier of a truck seat between them.

  Oh, shoot me dead, right here, right now, Chia thought, her body responding in wet readiness. “What’s this? You get excited hanging from the ceiling like a bat? Seems a little odd, don’t you think? You’ve got a hard-on the size of Alaska.”

  “And it’s oh, so ready to please you.”

  Chia almost moaned from the hot nearness of him.

  Ruby sent dagger-filled gazes in Chia’s direction.

  He breathed whiskey and the musky odors of a woman, no doubt Ruby, toward her nose. Chia grew instantly jealous. I’m so done with this fucking day. She lifted her booted foot and brought it down hard on Hung’s bare one.

  He cursed, releasing her. “That wasn’t very nice,” he yelled, limping around the room.

  She opened her coat and retrieved her Smith and Wesson, aiming it at the bounty hunter. “I’m not in a very nice mood, thanks to you. In one short day, I lost my latest lover, I lost a friend to an agonizing death, and I’m about to lose my job, all because of you. I need to talk to you, jackass, before you start a bloodbath in this town.” She kept her back to the closed door. “And then I’m going to kill you.”

  “Me? I’m about to start a bloodbath? Sounds like Red and Dick’s plan, not mine. Or maybe yours,” he said, eyeing the revolver. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his foot. “You going to shoot that thing or merely wave it around?”

  “Depends on you. Care to discuss your options?”

  “You’ve got me. I surrender,” he said, putting his hands in the air. He slowly stood, favoring the foot she hadn’t crunched with her sturdy hiking boot.

  Footsteps pounded the hallway, either from someone coming down the hall or someone going to his room so he could come in other ways. Chia smiled at her little joke. “That’s the spirit.” She cocked back the hammer on her revolver, squinting at her target. Spreading her legs wide in a study stance, she made a two hand grasp of the gun, holding it as steady as any inebriated person would—in other words, not very steady. She had to keep blinking to focus
and her dumbass ghosts kept sailing in front of her eyes.

  Ruby lay back against the pillows, stoned.

  The door behind Chia flew open, thwacking her in the back, causing her to stumble, cursing viciously. Her ghosts shot to the ceiling in alarm like small, bright Roman candles. The firearm went off, shattering the window. Ruby screamed, and Hung lunged for Chia. He swiftly grabbed the gun and resumed his restraint of Chia, while still, oh, so naked.

  The goddamned bouncer stood in the doorway, calling, “Everything okay? You rang, Ruby?”

  Chia’s eyes widened. “What? You called for him?”

  Ruby shrugged. “A girl’s gotta be safe,” she said, turning her attention toward the male. “It’s better now you’re here, Leroy,” she said, batting her lashes at the beefy bouncer. “It looked like things were going to get ugly in here.”

  “Yeah,” he said, eyeing Hung. “You’d better leave, man. We don’t want trouble.”

  “On my way,” he said gruffly.

  “And you’re going to have to pay for that window, Ms. Manager.”

  “Understood,” she said, sighing.

  Continuing to clutch Chia, Hung moved around the room, grabbed his belongings, shoved his feet in his boots, wincing slightly, and slipped from the room, gripping her wrists behind her back with his free hand. “You’re helping me stock my firearm collections. Nice Smith and Wesson, by the way. You’ve got good taste when it comes to weaponry.” He roughly thrust her forward.

  “Thanks. Happy to help.” Chia ground the words out, as she stumbled in front of him. “Is this how you do foreplay? It’s not putting me in the mood, sorry,” she said.

  He let out a low rumbling laugh.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, as they headed for the unoccupied end of the hallway. “The club’s back there.” As if awakened by Hung’s manhandling of her, a fresh wave of wine sloshed through her system, making her feel woozy again.

  “Freedom’s straight ahead, as well as a nice, cozy place to take advantage of you. You’re at my mercy, in case you didn’t notice.”

  She kept her lips pressed together, trying to keep her inebriated wits about her. None of this would have happened if you didn’t drink all that wine, stupid. He’d either be dead, or we’d be in bed, and then he’d be dead with a hole in his head. She smiled grimly at her poem.

  Hung pressed a knob on the back wall. It seemed to be a door of sorts, as it slowly swung open, revealing a dark stairway. “Private entrance for VIPs,” he breathed into her ear, as if she’d asked a question. “I have special status here.”

  “What? You shouldn’t have special status anywhere in Charming. Not without registering first, dipshit.”

  “Tell that to Trixie. And Ruby. And Noel. And—”

  “Zip it, Durand.”

  “Oh, how I love when you talk dirty to me,” he purred into her ear, followed by a deep throaty growl.

  Chia’s body surged with passion. She shook her head, clearing it of drunken, lusty thoughts as best she could. “You can’t kill Sultana,” she said, as she staggered down the stairs.

  “Like hell I can’t. That one’s important. It will lead to bigger, better, badder things for me.”

  “It will lead to horrid things for me. For everyone. You can’t do it. You can’t kill the vamp.”

  “And what business is that of yours?”

  “She’s lovers with my roommate.”

  “Ha! You have a vamp for a roomie? You have balls, I’ll give you that. But the answer to your request is in the negative.” He kicked the panic push bar open with a booted foot. A loud alarm immediately began to blare. “Damn it, who activated the alarm? You’ve seriously messed with my day, woman. Now, run.”

  Shouts, followed by pounding, booted feet, blasted from downstairs.

  Chia stumbled in an ungainly trot, held captive in the back. “I’ve messed with your day? Me? My day is ruined because of you. A friend is dead and more will follow, not to mention my job.” She bumbled through the crisp night air, her breath forming wispy white clouds as she exhaled. The ghosts circled her head closely like a halo of bike racers on a velodrome, zipping rapidly in front of her eyes. She stuck out her jaw and blew at them ineffectually. “You’re in a lot of trouble, Durand. Red and his crew have set traps everywhere near the Hunted Bear glacier.”

  “Traps? I thought you made sure the citizens of this town got rid of them.”

  “I did. But somehow Red got his hands on them.”

  “Shit. That’s my go-to exit.”

  “Yeah, shit. But you’re the badass shape shifter. Can’t you simply shift and slither away?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Good one. Ever seen a snake’s movements in the snow? They hibernate. Cold-blooded, remember? Mine’s quite warm, I assure you.”

  “So turn into a lynx or a snow leopard.”

  “Nope.” Hung flashed a secretive smile at her. “Let’s simply say I’m one of a kind. Anyway, you try flying through the valley of a glacier. Tricky winds and air currents. Deadly. Broken wing reality. You don’t ever see the eagles soar out there, right? I’d rather take my chances with the polar bears and trudge through the passage as a human.”

  She scoffed. “My people are going to get killed because of you.” She tripped, and would have fallen save for Hung’s powerful grip on her wrists, wrenching her arms behind her. Ouch! “Aren’t you cold? You’re fucking naked,” she snarled, being pushed at a frantic pace as more angry cries came from the lodge.

  Two coyotes, no doubt shifter friends, raced by, several yards from her and Hung. A crow cawed, no doubt another shifter, and flew past her head.

  Again Hung’s mouth landed against her ear, breathing warm air against the side of her face as he shoved her forward. “Not cold. Warm as hot buttered toast. And that’s what people do when they’re naked. They fuck.”

  Her core sizzled with longing. Damn the man twice over. Still obsessed with her one, lone, ridiculous plan—sex with Hung, then make him dead—her mind whirled with non-ideas. She rarely came out here. She didn’t know this area. She stared at her ghosts, wishing they could come up with a plan, or at least a little advice. You’re useless.

  The sound of the alarm blare grew quieter as they slunk through the night. It shut off abruptly as they headed down an incline, crunching through the remnants of late season snow. “Where the hell are you taking me?” She shivered, despite her bulky coat.

  “Somewhere warm and quiet,” he purred into her ear. “I’ve got a mighty itch that needs scratching. Here. Feel.” He brought her restrained hands next to his erection.

  Damn, damn, damn, you feel good. She closed her eyes for a second, savoring the throbbing heat with her fingertips. “Feels like some kind of growth you’ve got there. It probably needs to be excised,” she snapped. “Got a knife I can use? I’ll take care of it. One good slice is all it would take. Don’t think I have to saw at it. You’re not that big.”

  He shoved her hands against her jeans. “You sure know how to kill the mood,” he grumbled. “And you already said, I’m as big as Alaska. But I don’t believe your protests.” This time his mouth landed on the other side of her head. “I know you want this fine piece of meat inside your juicy pussy.” He poked the soft, bulging head between her hands. “Thrusting and sliding inside your wetness.” He rocked into her palms, gripping her wrists even harder.

  She managed to wrap the fingers of one hand around him and squeezed hard, digging in with her nails.

  He roared, yanking away from her. “Want to play rough, huh? I’ll show you rough.” He halted abruptly, dropping the clothes and her gun, and grabbed her hair, pulling it hard.

  “Ow!” She winced against the pain. “Let go of me, you bastard!”

  “Nope.” He kept his other hand firmly on her wrists and bent her head back, using his grip on her hair to guide her where he wanted her. His nose nuzzled against her cheek, his whiskers softly scraping against her skin. He progressed to her lips, bringing his to soft
ly kiss her.

  Damn. The man’s intoxicating.

  Feeling her response, he pulled away slightly, then resumed, giving her several soft butterfly kisses before deepening the kiss. He let his tongue dance along her lips, taunting her, teasing her, inviting her to let go into him.

  Her mouth ignored the warning protest her mind insisted on issuing. All concerns for her beloved town vanished as their lips connected. She opened further, begging him to plunge his tongue inside her, not caring her hair was practically being pulled out by the roots.

  He obliged, pushing in and out of her with slow, relentless insistence.

  She moaned against him, held taut by his hands. One of her ghosts slithered against her cheek in a most annoying fashion, like an electric, high voltage hum. She wanted to brush off the wraith but Hung held her wrists tightly. The buzzing grew more intense, distracting her from the kiss. She shook her head slightly, trying to free herself of the apparition.

  Hung must have thought she wanted more, so he deepened the intensity, widening his stance, grinding his mouth against hers.

  The damn ghost now made little, biting electric shocks against her cheek. She shook her head violently, breaking contact with Hung’s lips.

  “Had enough, huh?” He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, staring at her, perplexed. “You’re lying to yourself, woman. I know for a fact you want more. I can smell you.”

  “No, I…I…” She started to say something, she wasn’t quite sure what, when the snap of a breaking branch and the brush of branches against a body caught both their attention.

  Hung clamped his hand over her mouth, and dropped into a crouch pulling her with him. “Don’t move. Don’t even breathe.”

  An owl hooted in the trees.

  “That ain’t an owl. It’s a human pretending to make an owl sound.”

  She would have asked, “How do you know?” but his palm squashed harder against her mouth making it impossible to speak. Poised stock-still, nestled between his bare thighs, his flagging man-parts somewhere against her jacketed back, they both listened.