Luca was about to state that he wasn’t a minority until he realized he was—a paranormal shifter is a rarity. Of course, she couldn’t know about that, right?
“Hiring practices may have changed, but there are still cops out there who have the ‘old boys club’ mentality,” Mary Beth was saying.
“Yeah, but Captain Moore’s a woman.”
“True, and she’s also in a tough spot. She has to answer to the higher-ups, who are powerful men, and the union reps, who can be intimidating.”
“So you have to just put up with his bullying and inappropriate behavior?”
“We have our ways of dealing with guys like Butts that sometimes piss him off. I’m not usually passive-aggressive like he is, but sometimes it seems to be the only language he understands. And believe me when I say this stays between you and me.”
“You got it. Thank you for the warning. I’ll steer clear.”
“Good. Now let’s fill out our reports, and then we’re done for the day.”
Luca wondered if Butts’s harsh hazing had to do with him finding out about Lisa or something else.
Antonio had warned him when he’d made his decision to become a cop that there were shape-shifting wolves on the force. Could Butts be one of them? Could Butts have sensed the shifter in Luca? Did that make him defensive?
How could Luca figure out for sure if Butts was a wolf or not? He’d have to do some investigating and fast. If Butts had it in for him, he’d have to figure out how to deal with him or risk something even more extreme than a tasing. Wolves could eat a phoenix if one didn’t stay out of reach.
* * *
“Please don’t say you love white sauce on pizza.”
“I don’t. Please don’t say you love pineapple on pizza.”
“I don’t.”
Dawn and Luca had just settled into a cozy booth at Ronaldo’s Pizzeria, an old traditional pizza place in Boston’s North End. Luca had told her it was one of his favorite restaurants. She had never been there, but it was well-known. The place was packed.
Perusing the menu, she couldn’t decide what she wanted. “Spicy Italian sausage and roasted red pepper with caramelized onions looks good.”
“That one’s actually my favorite.” He grinned.
“Really?”
“I love it.”
“Wanna get it?”
“Let’s do it.”
She giggled at the double meaning. “You want to do it? Right here?”
He rolled his eyes, but his subsequent grin meant he didn’t mind her deliberate misinterpretation in the name of humor. They ordered a large pizza, and in the meantime, they sipped the local craft beer Luca had recommended and tucked into the warm, crusty Italian bread, dipping it into the plate of seasoned olive oil.
“This bread is delicious,” Dawn said as she broke another piece off and dipped it into the oil.
“Focaccia,” he said around a mouthful of it. Luca stared at her as she licked her fingers.
Feeling self-conscious, she took a sip of her beer. “Um, you’re staring.”
“I’m sorry.” He seemed to shake himself out of his reverie. “It’s just that you eat with such gusto. Like you really love food.”
“Uh, yeah, I do.” She frowned. “Why, is that weird?”
“No, it’s not weird at all.” He leaned in and whispered, “It’s super hot.”
