Chapter 2

TWO

Metal table boltedto the floor. Metal chairs. Metal door. Gray walls. Camera in the corner, red light blinking like some sort of sinister cyborg's eye. Big glass window that showed my reflection but not whoever was on the other side.

FBI or local PD, it didn't matter. All interrogation rooms looked the same.

At least this time, I wasn't in trouble.

Or, well, not like the last time I was forced to sit in one of these rooms while the feds figured out what to do with me.

Good thing I'd been barely eighteen and too scared shitless to be anything but honest. It was a classic case of wrong place, wrong time, falling for the wrong guy and trusting when he said I wouldn't get caught hacking into his employer's system. Turns out, the aforementioned guy was running a Ponzi scheme, and I was unwittingly helping him fleece people out of millions.

For a genius who'd graduated college before I'd been old enough to vote, it had been pretty fucking stupid.

Luckily, the feds and prosecutor took pity on me, and instead of locking me up for my cybercrimes, they turned me into an asset and used me when they needed to do things that were just this side of outside the law. They also loaned me out to law enforcement agencies as they saw fit.

Which was how I ended up here. In an interrogation room at Seattle PD headquarters.

Apparently, I'd gotten a little too close to finding something a little too carelessly, which I still didn't understand because I covered my tracks like the pro that I was, but nevertheless, someone had found out who I was, and worse, where I was, and they'd sent a picture that quite frankly scared the shit out of me. In a moment of panic, I sent my SPD contact, Detective McMahon, a copy of the picture, and he'd shown up, sirens blaring, and pulled me out of my apartment well before dawn this morning.

And since then, I'd been sitting in this room, waiting—again—for someone else to figure out what they were going to do with me.

Every once in a while, it might be nice to feel like I was actually in control of my life, but the sad fact was, since I'd screwed up as a dumb kid five years ago, I wasn't, and with a literal target on my head, maybe that was a good thing.

And despite the circumstances, they did pay me, so I wasn't destitute. Could I make more money taking jobs from the dark web? Uh, duh. But I liked my freedom enough to deal with my two-bedroom apartment in a halfway decent neighborhood that I could stock with real food, not just ramen and microwave meals, and expensive vintage action figures.

Things could definitely be worse.

I ran my finger along a scratch in the table, tracing it up and down, up and down, while getting lost in my head. I wanted to go home. I wanted all this to be a bad dream that I'd jolt awake from any second.

The door to the room banged open, and I almost jumped out of my skin. No one had been by in what felt like hours, and the paper cup of water they'd dropped off had long gone tepid. Now, though, Detective McMahon stood in the doorway, his jacket, shirt, and tie rumpled from what had clearly been a long day if the bags under his eyes and the deep grooves around his mouth were any indication.

"Sorry to keep you waiting so long, Felix. There were a lot of details to work out." He fully entered the room, letting the door slam against the wall, then bounce back so it almost closed again. I caught a hint of seawater and kelp on the air. It was soothing and totally out of place for where we were, but still, it settled me a little, and I tried to smile, but it got stuck somewhere around a grimace.

"It's okay." I dug my nail into the groove on the table again, not looking up to meet Detective McMahon's gaze that was boring into me from across the table. "Can I go home now?"

He hesitated for a long second, and I knew the answer before he uttered the words. "Uh, no. Not yet."

I did look up at him then and caught him running a hand over his face. "Soon?" I asked without any real hope.

McMahon sighed. "No. Not likely. We don't know who's targeting you, and I'm not willing to risk it."

"So what? I'm just supposed to stay here? No offense"—I gestured to the cup of water—"but the hospitality sucks."

"Sorry, and no, you aren't staying here."

"Safe house?"

A scoff. "Yeah, right." Another sigh. "I called in a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

"The kind of favor that is going to suck every tiny pleasure I usually get to enjoy right out of my future."

"Oof, sounds serious. Does that mean you're taking me home?"

The door had opened silently since the latch hadn't caught, and I didn't even realize there was someone standing there until the sexiest voice I'd ever heard rumbled through the room, bouncing off every surface so I felt like I was surrounded. "No, I am."

I whipped my head toward the door so fast I felt something pop in my neck, but the pain was worth it. The most gorgeous man I'd ever met was standing in the doorway, blocking out all the light from the hall. I was tall, but he was taller, and he had to have close to a hundred pounds of muscle on me. His eyes and hair were dark, and there was a large, almost black patch on his neck. If someone didn't know, they'd think it was some kind of botched tattoo cover-up, but I knew what a mark like that meant. Everyone in the Pacific Northwest did.

He was an orca shifter.

An orca shifter with a killer smile that he shot my way when he caught me taking him in from the top of his head to the tips of his heavy black boots.

When I finally took a breath, I realized he was the source of the seawater-and-kelp scent, and some instinct tried to push me up out of the chair so I could climb him like a tree and find out if he smelled even better up close. But I squelched the urge as much as I could, white-knuckling the lip of my chair.

"Felix White, this is Nero Hunter."

It was my turn to scoff. "You're kidding, right?" I gave the massive man who'd now crossed his arms over his chest some serious side-eye. My brain sometimes made random connections between things, and I couldn't help that my synapses started firing the second I heard his name. The irony that his last name was Hunter when his nonshifter cousins were some of the ocean's top predators wasn't lost on me, but my mind had latched on to something else.

"What?" The single word was a delicious rumble.

I pointed at myself. "White." I pointed to him. "Unless my Italian is failing me, nero is black, right? Which is funny because you're"—I shot a quick glance toward McMahon, who was watching the exchange like a spectator at a tennis match—"a?—"

"A sea panda." Nero raised an eyebrow and smiled.

My mouth dropped open at the joke, but I wasn't sure if I should laugh. Holy crap, a man that big shouldn't have a smile that damn pretty, and dazed as I was, it took a second for me to get it together enough to speak. "Um, not what I was going to say, but… I guess. Yeah."

"Hmm." Nero looked at me, assessing me with something hungry and predatory in his eyes, which made sense because, as far as shifter species went, he was one hundred percent predator to my prey. I mean, I held my own among the small predators, but I was a teeny little otter to his giant carnivorous whale. A shiver skated down my spine as the thought of him bending me over the metal table and devouring me in a different way flashed through my imagination.

What the actual fuck was wrong with me?

"Nero?" McMahon asked when the huge man said nothing else.

"Yeah. I'll do it."

I'd lost the plot a little, and my mind was maybe still a little in the gutter. "Do what?"

"Take you home with me, Lucky."

The way he'd said that made me shiver again, thinking of how he might mean that in a different context, but I tried to shake the delicious mental images away. "Lucky?"

He smirked, showing some teeth. "Unless my Latin is failing me, Felix means lucky, right?"

A small gasp slipped past my lips. Oh shit. Hot, huge, and smart? I was in big, big trouble. "Uh, right."

"Okay. Excellent." McMahon pushed himself up from the table, which groaned under the pressure. "That's settled. Felix, Nero will take you back to his place. We already took your cell phone, and we'd advise you to lie low until we know where the threat is coming from. Nero and his brothers will keep you safe, and he knows how to contact me if you need me."

"Yeah. Sure."

McMahon moved toward the door, and Nero shifted so the detective could pass by. As he hit the threshold, I came to my senses. "Hey, wait, can I at least go home and get some clothes and some of my stuff?"

The detective looked at Nero, who shrugged. "Tell Nero what you need, and he can go in and get it." To Nero, he said, "Make sure you aren't being followed."

Not the answer I wanted, but I wasn't in a position where I had much room to argue. "Fine."

"Good." McMahon slapped Nero on the shoulder. "Call me if you need me. Preferably not until tomorrow."

Nero nodded, and then McMahon was gone, along with all the air in the room. Without the detective, Nero seemed to expand to fill all the available space. His scent was everywhere, the echo of his voice ringing in my ears, and whatever the fuck he was doing to my libido had my dick more than half-hard behind the zipper of my pants. This whole thing was going to be a very bad, possibly very good situation.

Maybe. If I could get my bodyguard on board to guard my body a little closer than maybe was strictly necessary.

"Are you ready to go?" Now that we were alone, Nero's voice wrapped around me like a siren song and sent my heart hammering in my chest like it was trying to beat its way out to meet his. His seaside scent blocked out everything so I didn't smell anything but him—no more stale, burnt coffee, no more vague scent of unwashed socks, no more metallic tang. I felt my body slide forward, wanting to close the physical distance between us. I wanted to crawl up his body and lie against his chest. I wanted to float next to him in my otter form and hold his hand so he didn't float away.

And shit. Nope, that wasn't good at all. Not even the tiniest, teeniest little bit.

Suddenly, my reaction to the huge killer whale shifter made way too much sense, but at the same time, it didn't make any sense at all. Beyond the slim probability, it just shouldn't have been possible. In our animal forms, he was predator, and I was prey. In the wild, shifters recognized other shifters, and we left each other alone, but a nonshifter orca would have had no problem punting me with his tail and treating me like an hors d'oeuvre.

But there was no denying what this was. Sea otter shifters only felt a pull like the one I was feeling—longing that went so far beyond attraction that attraction could barely be seen in the rearview—for one reason.

Nero was my fated mate.

I couldn't tell what shape my face was making, but Nero was clearly concerned.

"Felix? Are you okay? If you don't want to go with me, I'll tell McMahon. He can make diff?—"

"No!" The single word came out too loud and echoed off every surface in the utilitarian room. Now that I knew what Nero was to me, the idea of being away from him made my heart lurch. I wondered if maybe he felt it too, though I admittedly knew next to nothing about how killer whale shifters recognized their fated mates or if they even believed in them at all. A lot of shifter species didn't.

He moved toward me, a strange look on his face, and before I could make heads or tails of his intentions, I found myself wrapped in his huge, strong arms and pressed against his broad, firm chest.

I could have happily stayed there all day.

Long moments ticked by, but I'd never felt so safe or comfortable, and I made no move to exit the embrace. The length of the hug should have been awkward, especially for two people who'd just met, but Nero didn't let go either.

"Sorry," he whispered like he was afraid to break whatever spell fate had cast over us. "It's weird, and I can't explain it, but I don't want to let you go."

I tilted my head and tried to look up at him, but all I saw was the wide black patch of skin at his neck that would be the saddle patch around his dorsal fin when he was in his orca form. This close, I could see it wasn't all black but streaked with dark gray that feathered out around the edges, and I wanted to run my fingers over it. So I did.

Nero shuddered in my arms, and something warm unfurled in my belly at the thought that I could make this man tremble with just a gentle touch.

"Tickles." His voice was still barely more than a whisper. "That's sensitive."

I logged that away for later, when we were really alone without a whole police precinct on the other side of the threshold, and I could run my mouth and teeth and tongue along it.

Nero held me close for another long moment, then bent his head and let his lips trail along my neck to the scent gland behind my ear. He took a long breath, then let it out. "Why do you smell so good?"

I twisted in the cage of his arms, and he released me enough so I could actually see his face.

"Uh, I'm ninety-nine point nine percent sure you're my fated mate."

His eyebrows rose, and his mouth turned down into a half frown as he shrugged his massive shoulders and looked into my eyes with an intensity that made fire spark in my veins. "Makes sense."

"Makes sense? How does this make sense? Until a few minutes ago, I had no clue my shifter species could even have a true mate that wasn't another sea otter."

"I think I knew the minute I walked in and saw you." He shrugged again as much as he could with his arms still around me. "I was only humoring McMahon, telling him I'd come meet you, but I wasn't really going to agree to be your bodyguard. I had an excuse all planned out. Then I saw you, and the thought of saying no, of me not being the one to keep you safe… I knew I couldn't walk away."

"I think this complicates things, don't you?"

Nero's face remained serious as he considered my question. "Maybe. I don't know. What I do know is that if someone wants to get to you, they'll have to go through me, and I promise that's not going to happen, Lucky."

The nickname made me smile. "I guess that's good enough for now." I pressed my hands to his wide chest and let the heat from his body seep into mine through my palms. "Can we go get my stuff now?"

He grabbed one of my wrists, tracing his thumb over the pulse point. "Let's go."

I preceded Nero through the door and felt him at my back, a solid, silent presence as we made our way through the precinct and out into the parking lot.

"My car is over here." He stepped up to my side and led me to a huge, shiny black SUV. There was a Haida art orca sticker on the back window, the red and white swirls of color the only break in the black. Nero clicked the fob and unlocked the doors, then walked to my side and helped me into the massive vehicle, even though I could have done it myself.

He climbed into the driver's seat and started the car. "I have to make one stop first. Do you mind?"

I shook my head as Nero pulled out of the lot.

We drove in silence, even though I had a hundred questions now that I was replaying everything McMahon had mentioned before he'd left. Nero had brothers? Where did he live? McMahon had been dodgy on the timeline, but I wondered if he'd given Nero any indication of how long he'd have to keep me safe. Did they even have any leads?

Before I could voice any of my questions, Nero pulled to a stop at the curb in front of a building with a teal awning over a wide front window that had the words Bail Bonds written across it in gold script. He patted his pockets, looking for something, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "I just have to run in and get my money. You need to come with me."

"I'll be fine in the car."

A low rumble sounded from Nero's chest. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"Fine." I knew when resistance would be futile, and in truth, I didn't want to be away from him either. I unbuckled my seat belt and met Nero in front of the car.

A bell tinkled as Nero opened the door and gestured me inside. The interior looked like the set for a 1970s sitcom—dark wood paneling, a long Formica-topped counter with three metal-and-veneered-wood desks behind it, and three orange plastic chairs tucked between dusty fake ficus trees and arranged for visitors. A stout lady rocking an honest-to-God beehive and a matching pink cardigan set waddled out from a back office when the bells on the door handle jingled.

"What can I do for you?" Her voice was pack-a-day rough, and she never took her eyes off the stack of file folders and papers in her pudgy arms.

"Hi, Sylvie. I have a body receipt for Valencia."

Sylvie's head snapped up, and her cheeks went pink as she pulled her reading glasses off, leaving them to dangle from the chain around her neck. "Well, hello there, studmuffin."

Nero smiled, and the woman behind the counter started to swoon, tossing down her burden and gripping the edge of the counter for balance while she reached out and made a gimme motion, her fingers adorned with thick gold rings and ending in fake fuchsia nails.

He passed over the receipt, and Sylvie slid her glasses back on. "You caught this bastard?"

"This morning. Returned to SPD and waiting in lockup."

"Good work. Jimmy's been shitting a brick over this one. Most he's ever shelled out for a bond." She turned and shuffled over to one of the computers, an ancient boxy machine I would bet was still running Windows XP. Sylvie hummed as she brought up the program she needed and typed in information. A printer started whirring, and she stood, rounding the desk to pluck the printout from the machine and signing it with a flourish. She whistled through her teeth. "Nice little payday for you too."

Nero shrugged and accepted the check, folding it without looking at the figure and tucking it into his pocket.

Sylvie leaned on the counter, her ample bosom laid out on the top, and toyed with the jeweled chain holding her glasses, batting her eyes at Nero. A little ball of jealousy formed in my gut, and I wanted to say something, to tell her to keep her watery eyes off my man.

But a beat later, she caught sight of the stack of folders she'd set down, straightened, and started going through them. "I have a bunch of skips here. Nothing as big as the Valencia job but also nothing as complicated." She started to push the folders across the counter, but Nero pushed them back.

"I'm taking a break. Won't be back for a bit."

She narrowed her eyes, all good-natured flirting and affability disappearing in a second. "You working for someone else?" She glanced over her shoulder toward the office door, then leaned forward and spoke low. "I know Jimmy's as cheap as they come, but he can afford to pay you better. Whatever they're offering, we can match it."

Nero smiled. "It's not about the money, and I'm not working for anyone else."

Sylvie put a hand over her heart. "Oh, thank God. My mouth may have been writing checks Jimmy would refuse to cash. But still. You're the best, cutie. We'd hate to lose you."

"It's just temporary. I'm trying something new." He shot a quick glance my way, and Sylvie's eyes followed, noticing me for the first time. I gave her a little finger wave and a smug smile. That's right, lady. He's mine.

"Oh. Oooooh." Her face fell as she clearly assumed Nero's break meant he was planning on doing me. I kinda hoped she was right. Her eyebrows bounced. "You two have fun. And don't worry, sugar, there'll be plenty of skips left when you come up for air." She shot us a very fake, exaggerated wink, then hefted her papers off the counter and shuffled back to her desk.

When we were back in the car and pulling out of downtown Seattle, heading south toward my neighborhood, I turned in my seat to look at the giant orca who was my new protector. "So you're a bounty hunter?"