Page 9 of Protected By Her Mate

3. Check police database for info on the deceased

Investigator Lopez:

1. Find out who owns the building

2. Determine accelerant used

3. Determine spread of fire

“You have quicker access to the police and shifter stuff,” she explains, “and I’ll have access to anything related to the building.” She stares at me for a few seconds and I stare back, my mind blank of everything except how pretty the blue in her hair is. “You can leave now.”

“Huh?” I snap to attention. Is she dismissing me?

“I assume there’s not much you can do from my office, right?” She nods toward the door. “Go back to your precinct, work on your part of the list and let me know when you come up with something.”

I push myself out of the chair and step awkwardly around the piles until I reach the door. I glance back at her hopefully but she only waves.

Before I can close the door, she calls out to me.

I eagerly stick my head back in, hoping she asks me to stay. It’s not what I should want, but my pathetic wolf won’t stop leaping around in joy, begging me to lick her.

“Yes?”

The dimple deepens as she replies, “Do you prefer Detective Prince Wolven-North, or should I call you Prince Detective?” She frowns and looks thoughtful. “Being American, I’m never really sure if the royal title comes before the job title or vice versa.”

She’s mocking me and my damn wolf his lapping it up.

“Call me Lennox,” I tell her, closing the door and leaving.

Chapter 3

Law-Dog

LENNOX

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” I mutter as I kick my shoes off, growling in annoyance as one of them lands in a puddle. The shoes were expensive. “Cease and desist.”

But my wolf’s not listening to reason.

I drag the rest of my clothes off while I look around for a convenient place to stash them. The rattle of a bottle on cement further down the alley catches my attention but quickly loses it. After several decades of living and working in New York, not much distracts me.

I shift into my wolf, gather up my clothes and shoes in my mouth, and jump on top of a dumpster. I make my way from there to a sturdy air conditioning unit to a sign announcing 50 cent wings at Lucky’s, and finally onto the roof.

I shove my clothes and shoes in a shadowy alcove before padding to the edge of the roof.

This is stupid, I tell my wolf, but he shakes my logic from his head, catches the scent he’s looking for and leaps off the building.

It’s impossible not to love a good run anywhere, anytime, but there’s something special about a wolf run through a place like Manhattan.

I chose New York as my playground because of the tall buildings and the challenge of hunting criminals in one of the largest human settlements on the planet. The adrenaline rushes as I leap from window ledge to window ledge, building to building. It’s exhilarating. Nothing beats the feeling of joy that surges through me each time I let my wolf have his way with the metal jungle.

At least, nothing beat the feeling until I mether. Charlie Lopez. Or Charlotte Theresa Lopez.

I looked her up as soon as I got back to the office, telling myself it was because I needed to know who my new partner was. Not because I’m suddenly obsessed with everything about the fast-talking, fire-inspecting Latina from Brooklyn.

The police database told me what I already knew. She’s 5’4”, 33 years old, and employed as a fire investigator. Social media was the true gold mine of information. It told me that Charlie is the third child of five.

Charlie’s mother is the descendant of Mexican immigrants while her father hails from Costa Rica. Both of her parents are alive as are all her grandparents. Among her siblings, two are married with a combined total of five children, six including Charlie’s boy. Charlie’s youngest sibling is single and studying mathematics at Yale.

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