Page 5 of Protected By Her Mate

“Investigator Charlie Lopez. Fire enforcement.” He reaches for my hand and I allow him to give it a squeeze before I pull away. Despite the thick cloth of my gloves between us, I feel his warmth and it’s unsettling. “You’re a shifter?”

He nods. “I investigate crimes linked to the shifter community.”

Shifter or not, dead body or not, he’s contaminating my scene. I try to moderate the hostility in my tone as I say, “You shouldn’t be here, it’s not safe.”

His eyes crinkle as though he’s amused by the idea. “There’s not much that can hurt me.”

“Not even a collapsing building?” I turn to point at a fallen support. “This structure is no longer sound. A strong breeze could knock it down.”

When I turn back to face him, the pleasantly bewildered look that had been on his face a moment ago has been replaced with a fierce frown and it’s directed at me. “You mean to tell me you walked in here knowing it could come down?” A growl enters his tone as he adds, “A fragile, easily crushed human?” I take a quick step away and clutch my radio harder, ready to call for backup. “I need to get you out of here,” he mutters, more to himself than me and reaches for my arm, wrapping long fingers around me.

“Take your hands off me!” I snap, jerking my arm.

His hold is unbreakable, but he seems to realize how inappropriate he’s being and drops his hand, saying, “I’m sorry.”

I step away from him. “What’s your problem?”

His blue eyes pierce me. “I can’t think with you in here.”

“That’s too bad.” I take another step away from him. “I’m here to do my job and I’m not leaving until it’s done.”

He sighs, some of the intensity draining from his voice as he says, “I have a job to do too.”

Right, he was probably sent here by his higher-ups. Same as me.

“Well then, we’ll go our separate ways, collect our evidence and…” I drift off. I was about to say ‘and never see each other again’ but the words refuse to leave my lips. I want to see him again. Weird. I’ve only just met him and I’m not usually a sucker for a suit.

“The fire and the body are probably related,” he says, his tone dry.

I glance at the body, my eyes quickly sliding away from the gruesome sight. “Maybe they died from smoke inhalation.”

He gives me a skeptical look. “The chest cavity has been torn open and the heart is missing.”

I try not to gag, taking a few more steps away. He’s right. If the victim was murdered, then the fire is likely related, which means I get a partner for the duration of the investigation. Goddammit.

He comes to the same conclusion. “I’ll document the body, you document the scene, we’ll meet after to discuss our findings.”

With a deep sigh, I nod, then for spite, add, “You should be wearing an oxygen tank.”

Without missing a beat, he replies, “My shifter lungs have high enough capacity, I don’t need supplemental oxygen.”

I step curtly away from him and the body, a shudder of relief going through me as I put some distance between us. Lennox Wolven-North is an unsettling man. An unsettling shifter.

His stare was intense, almost proprietary, but over what? The crime scene? If so, screw him, this fire belongs to me.

I clear my mind and focus on the task, switching my brain to machine mode. That’s what my brother Felix calls it when I take in a bunch of information, analyze, and then spit out the facts.

I have to be able to see through the damage caused by the water used to put out the fire. I have to see past the soot streaking the walls, past the piles of ash where furniture used to be.

I notice something red smeared across the walls and floors. Bending, I swipe at the wet ashy debris obscuring some of the paint. A spray-painted message emerges: Go home shifters.

I notice a piece of paper, soaked with water and unfurl it as gently as I can with my gloves. Another message, this one in bold black: Die, shifters, die.

Glancing around, I see a few more legible messages. We’re coming for you. ASHRA unites against shifters. My gut is starting to speak to me, and it’s telling me I may be working a hate-crime.

Standing, I follow the clues until I find the source of the fire. I drop into a crouch, using my gloved hand to feel the floor and wall.

“Find anything?”

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