Bear This Heat (A BBW Shifter Romance) (Last of the Shapeshifters) (6 page)

“Am I under arrest?”

“No, but there’s a detective who’d like to speak with you.”

“A detective, eh?” Dylan asked, drawing out the syllables of the word. “It wouldn’t be that pretty newly promoted detective I saw in the paper this morning, would it?” He sneered at the man, before putting his hands on his hips.

“Don’t!”

With a hardened voice, he said, “I’m not doing anything.”

“Don’t move a muscle,” the policeman said. “I’m serious, sir.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Dylan asked. His tone had changed, and though he was not physically advancing on the young man, he could tell his presence was affecting the police officer. “This how you normally interact with innocent people?”

But the young officer didn’t respond. He stepped back instead, and talked quietly into his radio. Dylan looked across the street, saw the officer’s partner on the other side, quickly approaching them, his hand also on his holster. A police cruiser was parked at the end of the block.

“What’s this about?” Could it be something to do with the wolf? That seemed an unlikely coincidence.

“Just be quiet and wait.”

“I’ll wait,” Dylan warned. “But don’t tell me to be quiet again.”

“Fine. Sorry, sir,” the young policeman said, taking another step backward. “It’s just, things are a little crazy this morning.”

“I can tell. So,
can
you tell me why you’ve stopped me?”

The policeman still didn’t respond verbally, but shook his head.

“Alright then,” Dylan said, shrugging. “You can’t hold me, so I’m going.”

He began to turn around when both officers ran up to him, shouting words over each other. Dylan saw them both unbutton the leather strap of their holsters, freeing their pistols.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’m serious.”

“Isn’t this illegal?” Dylan asked, his tone playful. He raised an eyebrow at them, and looked at each of the young men in turn. “I’m pretty sure that in this country, even the police can’t stop somebody for no reason.”

“You match a description.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“In relation to what?”

“I can’t tell you that right now. A D.I. will be along shortly. You’ll know soon enough.”

“So you’re telling me that I just have to wait out here and cook in the sun while your detective takes his sweet time to drive down here? Shit, take me into the station if that’s the case. I’d prefer somewhere with a little air-conditioning.”

“Can’t do that, sir. Those aren’t my orders.”

Dylan smiled. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s not for me to decide.”

That was an odd answer, Dylan thought. He was about to speak when a dusty white coupe rounded the corner and slowed beside him, sputtering to a stop. The car needed work.

He bent down and looked inside the window, and then he laughed. It
was
the pretty Detective Inspector Monroe.

“D.I. Monroe.” He greeted her as she climbed out of her car. The woman was even better looking in person. A photograph in her dress uniform didn’t do her justice. He felt a pang in his chest, in his gut, and found that he couldn’t take his eyes off the beautiful and bigger girl. She was positively sumptuous, and the shirt straining against her generous bosom had Dylan’s unwavering attention.

While he thought he might have exhausted that drive, it appeared now he was wrong, because Sasha Monroe was giving him plenty of ideas… he’d never been with a cop before.

He smiled at her, looking at her full lips, ones that he found himself suddenly wanting to kiss. “You wanted to speak to me?”

*

The call came in over the radio surprisingly quickly, and Sasha kicked her car into gear. Two uniforms had stopped a man who fit the description she had given.

“Don’t scare him,” she said into her radio. “Just tell him to wait for me. I’m only a few minutes away.”

She rounded a corner, saw the same man, big and tall, standing with his hands up, and two uniforms nearby, hands on their holsters.

Fuck, Sasha thought. They didn’t have to act like they were reaching for their guns. She stopped the car, saw the man bend down to look in the window and laugh.

He greeted her by name as she climbed out of the car, and that puzzled her for a split-second before she remembered that her picture had been in the Sentinel that morning.

“I did want to speak to you,” she said, answering his question. She turned around to look over the top of her car at him, and she regarded him for a moment. He was strikingly handsome. It was oddly arresting. Jenny hadn’t been lying about that, she thought. She watched as his strong jaw clenched, and then his lips curled into a curious smile.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Sasha blinked. She looked into his deep-set sea-green eyes, and saw that behind the shine was a shadow of secrets. She was surer than ever that his presence in her town wasn’t a coincidence.

“What’s your name?” she asked. She folded her arms and walked around the car, coming face to face with the man. She hadn’t really been able to appreciate just how large he was until she was mere feet away, utterly dwarfed, and standing in his shadow. In the hot day, she smelled his body, faint, lingering beneath the fading cologne or deodorant he had on. It was intimate, and made her take a small step backward. She masked it by gesturing at the two uniforms to take a walk.

At least she had gleaned that he’d been out for a while. For some reason, the thought of removing her sunglasses entered her mind, like how they did it in the movies, but she wasn’t going to. She didn’t want any disadvantage that might be lurking in her eyes to be seen.

The man, still smiling, his eyes sparkling as though he were enjoying this all, took a moment to reply. “Why?”

“Because I’m asking you,” Sasha said. She studied his face, saw the sharp angles, admittedly kissable lips, and a cool confidence.

“Dylan.”

“Dylan? Is that all? No family name?”

“Dylan Macready.”

“Well, Mr. Macready, now that we’ve-”

“Call me Dylan,” he interrupted, grinning at her. “Please.”

Sasha blanched. “Let me tell you, Dylan, there’s nothing funny about this. Where were you this morning?”

“What time?”

Sasha shook her head. “Uh-uh. Why don’t you just tell me all the places you were this morning. Start at the very beginning.”

“Let’s see, at the
very
beginning of the morning… so that’s what, one second past midnight? I was in a car. Then for a moment I was not in the car. Had to take a leak. You know, when nature calls. Then I got back into the car-”

Sasha cut him off, and kept the irritation out of her voice. If he wanted to play games, she wasn’t going to be a sucker for it. “Since you arrived in town, please. And don’t fuck with me. I’m having a shit day and I have the power to make yours worse.”

His smile widened “Well, when you put it
that
way. To be perfectly honest with you, I’ve been Sightseeing. This was after I got out of the car, by the way.”

“Sightseeing, huh?” Sasha echoed, looking to the two uniforms and smirking. “Like what you’ve seen so far?”

“Nope.”

“So where are you parked?”

“I don’t have a car right now.”

“Who drove you here?”

He gave her an exaggerated shrug. “Friend.”

“So, this friend of yours,” Sasha started, but stopped when she saw the glint in his eye. Beneath his parted lips were slightly imperfect teeth that seemed only to add to his completely annoying charm. “Something I say tickle you…
Dylan
?”

“No,” he said. He wiped sweat from his forehead with his fingers, the bulge of his muscular arm straining his t-shirt. The guy was built solid. “I’m just enjoying our chat, that’s all.”

“Why would you enjoy talking to the police?”

“Because this particular police officer,” he said, gesturing vaguely up and down her body. “Is hot stuff.”

Sasha ignored him. “Who is this friend of yours?”

“Just a friend.”

“Come on,” Sasha said, leering at him. “You can trust me. I’m a police officer. I’m a good guy.”

“Are you? Well, in that case, his name’s Chris. He drives a truck. That’s all I got.”

“And he’s your friend, is he?”

“You could say that. We got along. Chatted a bit. He didn’t invite me around to meet the kids and have some supper, though. So we’re not really best buds. I hitched a ride, you see.”

Sasha narrowed her eyes at the man. He seemed to be daring her, and when his olive orbs darted from her to the uniforms, she was certain of it. Why would he try to make her feel uncomfortable, or get her backpedaling, if he had nothing to hide?

“Where were you dropped off?”

“By the sign that says ‘Welcome to Salty Springs’. Why do they call it that, anyway?”

“You can read a brochure when we’re done.”

He laughed. “That’s not the first time somebody has told me that today, you know.”

“Is that right? Been talking to people have you? Asking them about Salty Springs?”

“Yes. Just the lovely lady at that small café. I think it’s called Dan’s?”

“Yes,” Sasha said. Lovely lady? Did he mean Jenny? That was definitely an unusual way of describing her. “And nobody else?”

“No. I’m not really a socializer.”

“Who would have thought?”

“I make people… uncomfortable,” he explained with exaggerated intonation.

Sasha sighed. This guy was going to keep dodging her questions forever. He was just one of those types. Cocky and full of swagger.

She could take him in, but her mind quickly told her that a lawyer would have a field day. Even though he matched a description, it was the description of a known drunk. Known to her since the boss had told her. She’d have to testify to that.

No, she was going to need something better.

“Were you around Lester Street this morning?”

“Ah, a real question! I’m afraid I don’t know where that is, though.” Dylan rubbed his hands together, and then ran his fingers through his tussled jet black hair.

“You sure about that?”

He looked her up and down, and she was more than a little annoyed that his eyes settled on her breasts.

“This is a funny way to treat newcomers. Here I am, new in town, and you guys pull police up on me. I haven’t done anything wrong. Do you just have a problem with new folks in general?”

“We get a lot of new people around here, not all of ’em good.”

“So I’ve heard, actually. Well, let me tell you, I’m very,
very
good. Now, detective, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go unless you arrest me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know.” He paused, put on a mocking expression. “I know! Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on, and I’ll tell you the honest truth if I was involved in anyway. Just so you know, the answer is ‘no’.”

“It was nice to meet you, Dylan.” Sasha stuck out her hand. There was a small spark when he took it, something that jolted in her chest, but she cast the silly feeling aside. He held her hand firmly, swallowing it up completely. It made her feel as though she was tiny.

“You too, Detective Monroe.”

“Call me Sasha,” she said with sarcastic emphasis. “
Please
.”

He nodded at her clothing. “Must be hot as hell in that.”

“Stick around town for a while, Dylan. I may need to ask you some more questions.” She let go of his hand.

“It’s okay, boys,” she said to the two uniforms. “You can go now.”

As she was climbing into her car, the cool conditioned air a refreshing respite from the baking heat outside, Dylan walked around the bonnet and tapped on her driver’s side window, casting a shadow over her. She wound it down.

“Your car needs work,” he said. “You can hear it.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, winding the window up.

“Oh, and tell your boys to stay off the caffeine, yeah? They’re jittery as hell.”

“Is that right? Anything else you’d like to comment on?”

He smiled at her, and shook his head. When he had walked half way up the block, she picked up her radio. “Five-Charlie?”

The sound of the officer’s voice came through all crackly. “This is five-Charlie.”

“Follow him until I say to stop.”

“Got it, Detective.”

“Try to keep some distance, okay?”

“Not my first time, Detective.”

“Thanks.”

She sat in her car, thinking about it for a moment. Hopefully, this Dylan guy was not as smart as he thought he was.

*

Interviewer: So when you asked ‘cat got your-’ [Interrupted by Dylan]

Dylan: [Interrupts. Laughs.] No, I had no idea about that. [Looks at Sasha.] Quite a coincidence, right?

Interviewer: Did you know why you were stopped by police?

Dylan: No idea. She had her boys almost shoot me.

Sasha: They didn’t almost shoot you, you big drama queen. Anyway, you matched the description of a murder suspect.

Dylan: I was obviously unarmed.

Sasha: They were young. Quick to the draw. Anyway, you didn’t see what happened to Charlie Kinnear. They did. So I’m not surprised they were a bit jumpy.

Dylan: Poor old man.

Sasha: Yeah.

Interviewer: And so what happened? This was the first time you two met, right?

Dylan: Yeah.

Sasha. Yes. I knew from the moment I saw him that he was connected to Kinnear’s death in some manner.

Dylan: Yeah, but you got it backward.

Sasha: Put yourself in my shoes. We’ve talked about this before.

Interviewer: Did you have any hint that you two would, you know- [Interrupted by Sasha]

Sasha: [Interrupts.] No, not really. I mean, he’s attractive. I definitely noticed that. Then again, I was on duty. I had to notice it.

Dylan: I knew.

Sasha: No, you didn’t.

Dylan: I did.

[Short pause.]

Interviewer: Explain to me what was going through your mind when you told him the location of the murder scene?

Sasha: You can’t hold someone for more than twenty-four hours unless you have something solid, right? Well, Sally Clark’s drunken testimony would be a liability if I took him in then. I had to get something on him so I could hold him for longer.