Bearly in Control (Shifters Undercover Book 1) Page 15

  Devin glanced at him. “You’re a stripper? Women pay to see you naked?”

  “Hey, we’re not a fabric-free establishment, I’m proud to say. And yes, in my world, I can make this flesh look more than perfect. It’s only the weekend, anyway.” He looked at Devin. “And why do you want me to strip? Did you grow up surrounded by females? Hmmm.”

  Devin snorted. “Not quite, chicken legs. You need to strip because you’re going in.”

  He blinked. “In where?”

  “To get some pussy.” Devin’s grin reminded him of the Cheshire cat from hell.

  Russel groaned. “Oh man. You tell me that now, after I’ve found my mate? You have lousy timing.”

  “Actually, the timing is perfect. I’m betting on two-week intervals.”

  “For what?”

  “The bank heist was four weeks ago. The jewelry store was two weeks.”

  “Ah, so you’re thinking she will strike any day.” So far, Russel felt good about his fellow agent’s conclusion. “Where? Besides money and jewelry, there’s not much more to steal.”

  “That’s the genius of her plan. By stealing things, the police are watching all the stores and places with money. What was her job in DC?”

  “Her background is working with a water company.”

  “Perfect. Now when we passed that building today, what did we see?”

  Russel let out a whistle. “We saw the fluffy black cat in the bank video crossing the street to the utility building.” He shook his head, amazed. They finally made it through the light to see a fender bender blocking two lanes, making the bad intersection worse.

  “You got it. I’m betting in the last two weeks, she’s bamboozled her way into an employee’s office. When we almost hit the cat crossing the street, she was on her way there to be let in to hide before everyone left for the weekend.”

  Russel jumped in. “No alarms needed because she was already inside. Then the next day, when the first person opens the office—”

  “She leaves with no one being the wiser.”

  “Damn, that’s brilliant.” He shook his head. “But wait. Why the utility company?”

  “Yeah, haven’t gotten that far in figuring this out.”

  “Okay, now what? You want me to go in to see if she’s there? Then call the police?”

  “If she’s a shifter, then we need to take care of it. Or at least give Chief Charter time to gather the right team.”

  Russel unbuttoned his shirt. “Either way is fine. Let me find out if she’s there and what she’s up to.” They passed the building and parked in a neighboring lot around back.

  Devin asked, “What are you going in as?”

  Russel pulled his socks and shoes off as Devin headed to the trunk of the car. “I’m thinking a badass Mickey Mouse would be good. Small enough to get through any crack in the exterior and walk around on the ceiling tiles.” The parking lot they sat in had broken and crumbled asphalt, but it was trash free. No beer bottles, candy wrappers, or soft drink cans. Just muddy from the last rain.

  “Hey,” Russel called from the front seat, “why do I get to do the dirty stuff?”

  “Didn’t one of your own call you ‘dirty rats’?” Devin snickered behind the car.

  He unbuttoned his pants. “Look, man, if you’re gonna quote the classics, you gotta get them right. Everyone knows Cagney said ‘dirty, double-crossin’ rat.’ How about some rat jokes?”

  “How about not,” came Devin’s reply.

  “Where does a rat get a new tail?” Russel paused. When he didn’t get an answer, he continued. “A re-tail store. What did one lab rat say to another?” This time he didn’t wait. “I have my scientist trained so well that every time I push my button, he brings me a treat. Okay, last one. How many rats does it take to unscrew a lightbulb? None. They already chewed through the wire and that’s why the bulb’s out in the first place.” He shifted, becoming small.

  Laughter rang from the side of the car. “Haven’t heard that one.” Devin opened the driver’s door and slid inside. He opened the small box he’d retrieved from the trunk and took out a tiny camera attached to a little collar. “All right, Sinatra. Sit on the center console here, and I’ll strap the camera on.”

  A spew of squeaks and sounds came from him sitting on the passenger seat. Damn, he’d forgotten he shifted. He was not wearing a stupid camera. He didn’t give a rat’s ass what his coworker wanted.

  “What? We have the thing, why not use it? Besides, I haven’t gotten to play with it yet. You’re a great guinea pig. I mean, rat.” Devin’s smile widened. Russel Rat sat up on his hind legs and crossed his little arms. “Okay, sorry. Relax.”

  Devin fumbled more with the camera. “Come on, don’t act like a spoiled rat. I want to see what you see. We might need it for evidence.”

  He had a point. Video evidence was rather compelling. But one more lame rat comment, after not laughing at any of his, and he’d jump in Devin’s lap and bite his balls.

  He hopped onto the console between the seats and held his tiny arms up. Devin wrapped the Velcro collar around his little chest. When Devin hit his ticklish spot, he wiggled and squeaked.

  “Oh, aren’t you so cute. I bet your mate will love finding that spot.”

  Another burst of squeaks came from his mouth, irritating him. Shifters didn’t talk about others’ mates. Damn cat. If only he could transform his vocal cords, all would be well. Instead, he swiped at Devin’s hand and pointed a little finger/toe at him in warning.

  Devin laughed. “Okay, little man. I got it.” Devin configured the camera so the front rested just above his head. Then he pulled out a cell phone-sized monitor and clicked the power button. Instantly, the inside of Devin’s car appeared on the screen. “That looks good. Too bad we don’t have a way to communicate. We’ll have to create something and call them Mickey ears.”

  Russel gave a low grunt to show his displeasure. The cat did not understand rat humor.

  “Do you want me to carry you to the building or you want to go on your own?”

  He wondered why his co-agent kept asking him questions. Like Devin was going to understand rat language. He crawled to the passenger door, pushed the unlock button, and looked over his shoulder at Devin.

  “I’ll take that as you’ll get there on your own.” Devin leaned over and opened the door, then Russel was gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Russel scampered across the abandoned parking lot toward the brick waterworks building. There was about an hour before twilight, and he wanted to get this over with so he could get started building a nest for his mate. Since Devin was OCD with neatness, maybe he should ask Devin to organize his place so his rat’s nest wouldn’t look like . . . wait for it . . . a rat’s nest. He laughed to himself.

  Something big caught his eye as he hurried across the street. He felt something jar his side and slide under the belt holding the camera. He went around and around and around until he realized what had happened. He grabbed onto the bristles caught under the camera collar, jerked them out, then waited for the right time to release his hold.

  He flew through the air, ejected from the street cleaner that had sucked him up. Whoa, he needed to be careful when thinking of his mate. She took over his complete consciousness. That happened to his uncle Rupert. Tragic story.

  His uncle had just met his mate at the annual shifter rally, and on their first date, he took her to the local arena hockey game. Like most males, he was trying to impress his woman with his manly shifter abilities. So when the rink cleared for a game break, he shifted into his mate’s favorite animal, a cute pink-eared bunny rabbit, and scrambled onto the ice, ohhing and ahhing the crowd with his four-footed skating skills.

  He was only thinking of his beautiful mate while twisting and turning, then—bam! He was sucked into the Zamboni machine. It wasn’t pretty. Russel’s mom, Rupert’s sister, never went to another hockey game again. Sad.

  He scuttled along the base of the brick building,
looking for an entrance. Ah, crumbled debris lay beneath a pipe going into the wall. He loved old buildings. The camera made the entrance a bit tighter, but he wiggled through and found his way into the ceiling for easier access across the rooms.

  The smell of cat was fresh and strong. The cleaning cat lady had to be here. Now, where in the ten thousand square feet was she? He followed his nose to the highest concentration of kitty. He chewed through the fibrous ceiling tile and stuck his nose through it. Yup, big-time pussy cat.

  He pulled his nose up and put an eyeball to the hole. Looked like a regular office. He spotted a pile of blankets in the corner behind the desk. The perp’s hideaway for the past two weeks. Nice. Even had toys that looked pretty cool. He smelled treats. Maybe there was a stash hidden in the desk. They smelled really good. He hadn’t eaten since lunch six hours ago.

  A closing door snapped him out of his food daze. He was on a mission and had to get this job done so he could focus on his mate again. Damn cat. Scrabbling across rusty pipes and frayed wires, he headed toward the freshest line of scent.

  The newer smells led him to a ceiling tile with a hole already torn in it. His head fit through with the camera. She sat at a computer in a big room with lots of office machines and desks. Russel watched her type and stare at the monitor. He couldn’t see the screen from his angle; he’d have to get lower.

  He wrapped his tail around a pipe and slowly inched out of the hole. The scene in Mission Impossible where Cruise comes through the ceiling on a rope came to mind. He spread his tiny arms, bouncing his ass end to the movie’s theme song playing in his head.

  When he lowered enough, the screen came into view. It looked like she was entering data for a customer. Why in the hell would she be doing that? It made no sense.

  The sound of water rushing through pipes caught his ear, but he thought nothing of it until the pipe his tail was wrapped around began to heat. And heat it did. Within a couple of seconds, his body screamed from the burning pain. He hated old buildings. He released his tail and fell smack onto the keyboard the lady typed on.

  Her zombie eyes stared straight ahead, but her fingers stopped moving under him. Instincts had him ready to run, but she didn’t move, so neither did he. He sat up on his back legs and waved his arms in her line of sight. Nothing. She barely blinked.

  He stretched his foot to the side to touch her hand. With contact, he jerked back like touching a hot stove. Again nothing. Slowly, he extended his foot again and laid it on her hand. With no movement from her, he dragged the rest of his body onto her hand. This chick was really out of it. Was she on drugs?

  His feet moved back and forth in a cha-cha up her arm. Sinatra really was a perfect name for him, but he’d never say that out loud. On a cha, his foot slipped off the side of her arm, leaving a bleeding scratch. The woman startled. He froze. Her head snapped toward him, eyes turning to green with slits.

  Oh shit. His rat’s ass was toast.

  She hissed and swung at him with claws on her other hand. He dove for his life, scrawny arms and legs stretched out to catch air to slow his crash landing. Didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like he was falling from plane height. But he bet he looked cool. If only his mate could’ve seen it.

  He landed with a smack and scrambled for traction on the shiny tile. A large shadow cast on him. He turned to see a fluffy black cat flying toward him. Claws extended on four feet, mouth open with sharp teeth ready to chomp. This was one time he didn’t want pussy on his face.

  He took off, running under desks and around chairs, trying to lose his assassin. She was good. The rat race was on.

  Russel kept his cool, knowing panic would rat out his logic. Then he’d be stuck like a rat in a cage. In the darkened room ahead, light sliced along the floor. The door to the hall was open. Maybe he could escape like rats abandoning a sinking ship.

  Along the straight path to the door, he lined up with the narrow slit, ready to hit it on a dead run like a rat being chased by a cat. Which he was. With millimeters to spare, Russel slipped through. He wondered how wide the cat’s head was when he heard a thunk and an angry meow. Definitely a pissed pussy.

  He glanced over his nonexistent shoulder to see the kitty pushing the door wider, then zeroing in on him. Dinner. Rats, he shouldn’t have stopped to look. Spinning out on the slick floor, he took off down the hall, searching for a way out of the crazy maze he was stuck in.

  He rounded a corner and his front end turned, but his heavier back end slid to the side, slapping into a janitor’s yellow mop bucket. He winced with the contact. That would hurt in the morning. He was tender under his smooth, flawless skin.

  The lady janitor looked up as he scrambled away. She squealed like a stuck rat and jumped around as if Russel was attacking her. Oh please, he thought, he wasn’t rat-shit crazy. He was getting the hell out of Dodge. He didn’t have time to play cat and mouse with her.

  Before he got far, the big kitty came around the corner. Her claws did not stop her slide toward the bucket either. She slammed into the side, scaring the shit out of the janitor again. Dirty water sloshed over, dousing the animal, making the pussy look like a drowned rat.

  The lady with the ratty mop stabbed at them both, trying to get away from two creatures who didn’t give a rat’s ass about her.

  He whipped around another corner, and salvation sat on the other side. He loved old buildings. Sprinting like his tail was on fire, he prepared for his grand exit. But kitty was gaining ground with her longer strides. Three feet from the end of the hall, Russel launched himself into the air. The camera made him heavier than normal, so he had to adjust on the fly.

  He lined up with the words Mail Slot four feet off the floor and pointed his toes for a perfect ten-point-oh dive into the chute. Behind him, he heard a splat against the outer wall and a roar of a meow. He chuckled. He’d never been in a rat race that he’d lost. And he wasn’t about to change it.

  During his descent, his butt once again took the lead. He hoped his mate liked big butts. And he could not lie, he liked a lot of flesh to sink his teeth into. His little body was getting hot thinking about his mate. Mmm. He did love a woman in uniform.

  A faint light shone below, getting closer and closer. The chute curved up at the last second and shot him through the air, over the mail cart, to crash into a stack of empty taped-up shipping boxes. Cardboard pummeled him as he tried to protect his head with arms that didn’t quite do the trick. He was able to cover his ears and that was about it.

  When he came to a stable position, no further boxes raining from the sky, he opened his squeezed-shut eyes and saw nothing but darkness. He felt with his whiskers and realized he was inside a small box. He pushed the walls, then when none opened, he figured out the box was upside down and he sat on the top.

  Great. He’d just invented the perfect mousetrap. How the hell was he getting out of this? The easiest way was to shift. He hoped the janitor lady wasn’t on her way down. All he needed was some random female checking out his junk.

  His animal relented control and Russel shifted. The box ended up covering his head, stuck around his ears. He was about to toss it aside, but thought better of it. He picked up the busted camera collar and headed for an exit. His mission was accomplished. The cat lady was here.

  Sirens sounded in the distance. Seemed Devin had enough video evidence to call Chief Charter to get a crew over here to clean up the kitty litter. Russel snuggled the box around his cock and balls and opened a back door, setting off the alarm.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Devin stood in front of the utility building with Chief Charter and Director Milkan. The sun had just set, and the plethora of emergency vehicles’ lights made it feel like a disco.

  “What I haven’t figured out,” Charter said, “is how the money got out of the bank without anyone seeing it.”

  Devin grinned. “That’s another genius idea. Charli mentioned how the bags they found in the buried container smelled like spoiled food and had sauce sme
ars on them. After the cat woman bagged the money, she dropped the tied sacks in the lunchroom trash cans. Nobody is going to dig through one of those unless they have to. Then the next morning, after leaving in cat form—”

  Charter finished. “She came back as the cleaning lady and took out the trash.”

  “Exactly,” Devin said.

  Director Milkan slapped him on the back. “Damn proud of you, Sonder. Mighty fine detective work. I knew you’d be perfect for the position with us. Glad you decided to sign on.”

  “Thank you, Milkan. So am I.” For the first time in a long time, he felt satisfaction from taking down a bad guy. Or woman.

  The front door to the business opened and a slew of police surrounded the female wrapped in a blanket. Her long stringy hair fell over her face, hiding any identifying features.

  Director Milkan stepped away. “Excuse me for a moment. I want to make sure our thief is treated properly and not mishandled in any way.” He walked toward the group heading to the back of a squad car.

  Charter stared at the group. “I still have a lot of unanswered questions for the lady. Like how she got the glass cutter to cut the hole in the jeweler’s case into the building if she was let in as a cat. Why is she a missing person from the East Coast? Did she fake her death to become a thief? And why, in the name of God, did she do all this just to set up a customer in their system?”

  “That’s a very good question only she can answer, I’m afraid. The record on the computer was deleted when we got in to investigate earlier,” Devin replied. A car door slammed, and Devin looked up to see Milkan headed to them, the rest of the men already gone. “How is she?”

  Milkan grunted. “Not talking. Like usual with these kinds of people.” Milkan looked at him. “I assume you will get the answers from her in the morning? There’s a lot of mystery around her and her past. Plus, I want to know if she was involved in the armored truck robbery and murder. We have little to go on there.”

  They watched as a female officer opened the door to the back of the car holding their thief. She laid a set of scrubs on the woman’s lap and closed the door. “Good,” Milkan added. “We got her clothes to put on before she gets to the station.”