oomph.
While Todd scrambled to help Susie up, I turned to Granger and muttered, “I guess I hit a nerve.” Deep, rich laughter burst from his sensuous lips. I tried not to stare, but lord, the man was easy on the eyes.
Susie Granger’s shifter-obsession bordered on criminal. She’d lied to get the attention of the pack alpha. Once I pointed this out to her—and explained how many years of jail time she was facing—she agreed to drop all charges.
On the ride back to the offices, Granger asked how I knew what Susie’s motives were. My answer was simple. I may not be the best at throwing stars, martial arts, or chemical warfare, but I was damn good at reading people. Half of being a good detective was learning how to read people.
All in all, Granger was happy with the end results, and my first case was a success, or so I thought, until later that same day when I met with Tymon and Todd and got my ass chewed for going over a senior officer’s head. I hadn’t been on a case since then, and that was over a month ago.
A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. “Come in.”
Tymon entered.
Our eyes met as he took a seat on the chair in front of me. “If you’re here to bitch about my training, don’t bother. I already know how poorly it’s going.” A wave of razor-sharp displeasure crashed into me. The coffee cup dropped from my hands, and hot coffee sloshed onto my lap.
“Shit!” I hissed. My feet dropped to the floor with a loud thump, and I gasped for air as sharp daggers of irritation pelted my brain. Fuckfuckityfuck. He knows how much I hate when he does this.
“Shields,” he growled.
Teeth gritted, I pictured a wall of steel rising from the darkness of my mind and blocking the battering ram of emotions. One minute I felt as if the back claw of a hammer was wrenching my brain from my skull, and the next, I felt nothing.
Glaring at Tymon, I snatched the napkin from yesterday’s lunch off my desk and attempted to dab the coffee from my favorite pair of pants.
The butthead had the audacity to smile at me. “Good. Your new goal is to see how long you can hold it.”
“I really, really hate you,” I ground out while trying to dab my pants and hold the stupid shield in place at the same time.
His head cocked, and he gave me a knowing look. I tried not to get creeped out as a little of his otherness leaked into the room. “Liar, liar,” he said, then smiling at my eye roll, he upped his assault and crashed right through my shields.
Asshole.
3
Both of my parents came from money. My mom’s side of the family earned theirs from plantations and tobacco, whereas my dad’s money stemmed from railroads and banking. Having been raised with silver spoons in their mouths taught them to believe that money solved all problems. In return, having been raised by them, my sister, Bailey, and I were taught to believe the same. By all appearances, we were the perfect Southern family. Perfect, my ass. My father was an alcoholic, and my mother a not-so-secret pill-popper. They barely tolerated each other, much less their own children. My childhood was a living hell, a gilded cage of intolerance where conformity was the expectation at all times, and anything less simply frowned upon. I spent my entire adolescence rattling that cage.
My sister willingly accepted her plight in life. Not me. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy having money and all the perks that it offered. I liked the creature comforts of a nice house with a swimming pool and a staff who lived to serve. But having money made us stand out. It made us different, and I was already different. I saw things that no one else saw and heard things that no one else heard. I was that strange Duvail kid, the oddball that other kids avoided.
When I was five, my great-grandmother came to visit. She was in her eighties but looked more like a hundred and eighty. The man who came with her looked even older. Mother made one of her extravagant meals that night. Of course, she had to seat me next to my great-grandmother. Once we were all seated, I pointed out that they’d forgotten a chair for the man. When my father asked, “What man?” I laughed, thinking that he was playing.