Page 15 of Protected By Her Mate

We finish up in the apartment, searching cabinets, under beds and in closets. As we leave, I’m convinced the home belongs to a human woman. If we find the woman, we might find the murderer.

“I’m not really dressed for a swanky bar,” Charlie says conversationally from the driver’s seat as she pulls into traffic.

I glance over her outfit of snug, faded blue jeans, a Mets T-shirt, and canvas high-top runners, and nod my agreement. She might have to wait in the car while I go in and talk to the bar owner.

She frowns at me. “You don’t hang out with women much, do you?”

Shit, it can’t be good if your mate feels the need to ask such a question. “Uh no, why?”

“Well, and I know this is going to sound like a trap, and it totally is, but I don’t dictate social conventions. But if a woman you might be interested in comments on her appearance, your only response should be reassurance that she looks amazing and will shine like a diamond wherever she chooses to go.”

Interested in… did she just acknowledge my interest? How does she know? Am I being that obvious?

Almost involuntarily, my lip lifts in amusement. Skipping over the part where she assumes I’m interested, I say, “What if she’s dressed in a potato sack and heading to a royal coronation? By your logic, I shouldn’t save her the embarrassment of walking into such an auspicious place underdressed, but allow her to make a fool of herself?”

Laughing, Charlie says, “Dude, you’re so old! What does a potato sack even look like? Who talks that way anymore? Wait, are you so old you were around for the invention of potato sacks?”

We share a laugh and again, I find myself musing at how many smiles Charlie can get from me. Not for nothing, I was voted grimmest mug on the force during the 1995 Commissioner’s ball. To my credit, I was hunting a serial killer targeting shifters back then and there wasn’t much to smile about.

Damn it, Charlie might have a point. I am old, and my mate is… not. If I intend to curry her favour, which I’m still debating due to my family’s curse, I’ll need to start acting more appropriately around her. Stop suggesting she dresses like an urchin looking for a hot meal, even if she does.

I will love her in the package she comes in.

Love… wait, no, these mating hormones are getting out of hand fast. I’ve only known the woman a few days. Not even the natural order can convince me I can fall in love that quickly.

As she pulls up to the curb on the opposite side of the street from the martini bar, I resist the urge to rush around the truck to open her door. She doesn’t need me to. She’s been doing it just fine for years.

Good job, wolf. Let the woman work.

“I’d probably look pretty cute in a potato sack,” Charlie continues, as I join her.

Looking both ways, I stop myself from taking her arm and step into the road. “You’d look cute in anything you wear.”

Her grin widens and her eyes sparkle. “You’re a fast learner.”

“Easy to do when your teacher is the prettiest firefighter in the city.”

“Are you flirting with me, detective?”

I chuckle, saying, “I don’t flirt…” I lose the rest as a buzzing fills my ears, so loud, it dims everything around me. Only a few things can cause my senses to spin that way, and I go with my gut.

Grabbing, Charlie, I spin her in my arms, hugging her protectively to my chest and turning my back to the martini bar just as it explodes.

Searing heat strikes me and I’m blown off my feet. As my body is thrown, I twist, holding Charlie tightly as we strike the pavement, rolling to a violent stop. The force of the blast tears Charlie away from me and I lose sight of her in the smoke filling the air.

Blinking, I reach out with my senses, finding her and crawling toward her.

She’s laying on her side, her hand next to her body, limp on the pavement. “Charlie!” I grip her shoulder and roll her onto her back, growling as a trickle of blood drips down her face from a cut on her forehead. I brush the hair aside and lift her against my chest. “Charlie, sweetheart, please wake up.”

I grip her chin and hold her until her eyelashes flutter. She frowns, then recognition hits and her features smooth. “Lennox.” Even in this desperate moment, my fear for her nearly overwhelming me, her voice saying my name makes me feel like the tallest man on the planet.

“I’m here, sweetheart.”

She turns over in my arms and pushes herself up onto her knees. “Was anyone hurt?” She blinks blearily, trying to see through the smoke.

“Charlie, you hit your head,” I tell her, my arm wrapped around her back. “You need to lay still until an ambulance gets here.”

“I’m fine.” Charlie pushes against me, and I back up, giving her space. She coughs and drags her radio off her belt, lifting it to her lips. “This is Investigator Lopez from Fire Station five. We need multiple units to 716 West 23rdStreet.” Her anguished eyes meet mine. “There’s been a bombing.”

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