“Thanks, sis.”
“Don’t mention it.”
TWENTY SIX
Adam
The moment I realize I’ve miscalculated happens about half a second after I walk back into Night Shift and five sets of flashing eyes turn to me instantly with looks that’re anything but friendly.
I try to ignore it, striding toward the bar and leaning on the counter to get the bartender’s attention. My plan tonight was to hang out and watch for the leopard shifter. Maybe wait for him to do something creepy. I guess that was pretty stupid, but I didn’t bet on him having so many friends.
Still, what’s the worst that’s gonna happen? They can’t exactly kill me.
I sit, keeping my back to the bar in case of a confrontation, but all they do is linger in the shadows of the booths around the outside of the room. I can tell they’re watching me. I can’t see them talking to each other, but the atmosphere in here is so different from the other night, I’m convinced there’s something going on.
The bartender comes over, slinging her long red ponytail over one shoulder and casting a past me before her gaze settles on me and she smiles. “Hey. What can I get you?”
“A beer please. Got a half strength?”
“Sure do.” She grabs a glass and starts pouring.
“Quiet night tonight.”
She sneers. “Fucking shifters. They’ve been camped in here since last week acting like they own the place. It sours the mood.”
Huh. So they’re not friendly with the staff. “You worked here long?” I ask her, tapping my card to pay for the drink when she hands it to me.
“About a year. I’m thinking of looking for something else if these assholes are going to hang around, though. I’m surprised to see you back here. Where’s your girlfriend?”
I grin. “Jen’s got her sister staying, so I’m giving them some space to talk. To be honest, I wouldn’t have come back, but the other night left a bad taste in my mouth. I felt bad not doing something about it.”
The bartender’s brows lift, but before she can say anything, one of the shifters approaches the bar and slams his empty cup down. “Another round, love.” This guy is wider set than the guy that attacked Jen the other night. Broad shoulders and a long mullet which trails down to the top of his shoulders in dirty blond waves. He meets my eye and doesn’t look away.
She rolls her eyes but goes to serve him.
I’m tossing up what to say to him when the front doors of the bar slam open and two guys in uniforms with the burnt orange stripe that signifies the supernatural enforcement division burst in, batons at the ready. “Hands and tails where we can see ’em. No one shifts unless they want pepper spray to the face.”
The whole place freezes. I set my drink down on the bar slowly and spread my hands out beside me. I knew something bad was going on here.
The first guy, a serious-looking officer with a shaved head and a square jaw, strides into the center of the room. “Someone reported a zombie infestation. Just here to take care of that.”
A what? I don’t want to be pepper sprayed, but that might be better than the alternative. I jump to my feet just as the officer’s gaze locks on me.
He shouts. His partner raises his baton, and they both charge at me. “Nobody move!”
“Stay back.”
They charge at me like I’m the aggressor here.
The bartender is screaming something I can’t make out. I lift my hands in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t know what the fuck you heard, but I’m not doing anything.”
They leap at me, and I have a moment to decide what to do. At the end of the day, I haven’t done anything wrong. This all just has to be a misunderstanding. But if I fight them, that could go badly for me. After all, they are cops.
So I stand still as they cuff me and slam a muzzle over my face, which gets stuffed into my mouth before I can protest. As I look over the first officer’s shoulder, I catch a glimpse of flashing orange eyes and a grin that gives me my first indication everything is not going to be OK.
I’m bundled into their van—a huge, reinforced steel-bodied vehicle with bars over the tiny back windows. They don’t removethe muzzle. There are no rights read. No indication of what is happening. My head is spinning, but the one clear thought I have is I’ve gotta let Jen know what’s happened. She’ll be able to think of something.
I pat my pocket, searching for my phone only to find it empty. It must have fallen out when the SEO grabbed me at the bar. Now there’s nothing to do but go where they’re taking me and pray this ends peacefully.
