Indirect Lines: Halle Shifters, Book 5

There’s only one way to win this game: break the rules.

Halle Shifters
, Book 5

James “Barney” Barnwell is losing his ever-loving mind. Between the threat to the white shifters and a riddle he’s been ordered to solve, he can actually go for ten whole minutes without thinking about Heather, the woman destined to be his mate.

As much as he burns to get the redhead under him, the safest place for her is far away from him. If the bad guys catch the barest hint of her scent on his skin, she’ll become a target.

The way Heather sees it, the quicker she helps the stubborn Bear solve the riddle, the quicker he’ll bite her—literally. But when she’s hurt while protecting her cousin from an attack, she finds herself right where Barney never wanted her: smack dab in the middle of the investigation.

Like it or not, Barney is forced to bring her fully into his crazy world. With his mate’s life in his hands, he’s in a race against time to solve this maddening riddle before the enemy discovers that the Hunter has finally been caught by love.

Warning: This book contains explicit sex, graphic language, lots of questions and maybe even some answers. Remember: Fox holds the key.

Indirect Lines

Dana Marie Bell

Dedication

To Mom, who consoled me when my eleven-year-old told me he
might
have a girlfriend. When questioned, he admitted right now they’re friends, but they might be more in the future.

Help. Me. I’m not ready yet.

To Dad, who would probably pat my eleven-year-old son on the back with a “That’s my boy!” At least I know he’d horrify the boy with stories of dating Nana back in the day.

To my sixteen-year-old who told me ain’t nobody got time for dat. He’d rather concentrate on school, thank you very much. Yes, son. Thank you. Thank you so much.

And to Dusty, who listens to my psychotic ramblings about boys and girls and “he’s too YOUNG, damn it!” with a patient ear and a 3 Musketeers bar. The man knows me well.

Chapter One

“You have
got
to be kidding me.” The spate of Spanish that followed sounded anything but cheery. Heather stopped sketching the tattoo she was working on to find Cynthia Reyes, her boss, stomping around the tattoo shop, her steel-toed boots making squeaking noises on the newly cleaned floors. Her multicolored hair in was disarray and her lips clamped tight in frustration. The vision brought a smile to Heather’s face.

Of course, Cyn was always stomping around, but it was the hair, that carefully colored and pampered hair all standing on end, that made Heather grin. Something was up with the owner of Cynful Tattoos, and Heather wanted to know exactly what that was. Heather got off the chaise she’d been lounging on. “What’s wrong?”

“The ink company sent me the wrong fucking order.” Cyn glared at the box on the glass display case. “Now I have to pull some green out of my ass, and since I don’t shit grass, I’m wondering where the fuck I’ll get it.”

“No problemo. I can mix some up.” Heather walked into the back room, looking for the colors she’d need. She’d been studying art since middle school. Whatever color Cyn wanted, Heather could whip up with ease. “What shade do you need?”

“See? This is why I hired you, to do the dirty work.” Cyn cracked her knuckles. “But I do seem to have an excess of Ass-Slapped Red.”

Heather giggled. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over the names of some of the inks.” Heather was still thinking of tattoo ink like paint, with simple names like burnt orange or sunset red. She still had a lot to learn.

“Not all companies name their inks like that, but I love how the colors stay true longer. That’s why I use them.” Cyn followed her into the back as Heather gathered what she needed to mix the inks.

She pulled down some mixing cups and grabbed the colors Cyn pointed out. “Isn’t there another shop across town?” She glanced at the shelf containing the needles. “We’re running low on round shader needles. You were going to put that in this week’s order, but maybe we can trade?”

Cyn shot her a sharp look. “Not exactly what I was thinking, but…” She rubbed her chin, then nodded sharply. “I’ll give them a call. What could it hurt?” Cyn headed for the counter and the phone. “Good thinking, kiddo.” Cyn winked and grinned at her, obviously pleased.

Heather tried not to blush. With her bright red hair and pale complexion, any color in her cheeks wound up taking over her whole face. She looked like a ripe tomato when she blushed. “Thanks, Cyn.” It meant a lot to her that the woman who’d taken Heather under her wing was happy with her.

Heather settled back and concentrated on mixing the color Cyn wanted. Cyn’s muffled voice came to her through the curtain as she called the other tattoo shop in town. Odds were good he’d have the needles, and hopefully he’d take the ink in exchange.

She’d just finished mixing the inks when the doorbell jingled. Heather left the tattooing area, eager to see Cyn’s customer. She was expecting a regular, someone whose tattoo was in progress since Cyn was so intent on getting the correct green.

Who she got instead was Tabby Bunsun, her cousin Alex’s mate, with a baby carrier in one hand and a diaper bag in the other. Tabby entered with wild eyes and the sharp, staccato sound of dropped keys on hardwood floor. “Help!”

Heather, laughing, rushed to help the new mother. Cyn was still on the phone, rolling her eyes at Tabby even as she spoke to the owner of the other shop. Heather grabbed the keys and took Tabby’s diaper bag. “What’s up?”

“Me.” Tabby gently placed baby Wren’s car seat on the floor before collapsing into one of the two turquoise chairs decorating the shop. “All night, every night.” Her head fell back. Her lime green hair was longer than it had been since before she’d had the baby. Tabby’s neat bob wasn’t quite as neat and the roots were dark brown. “And every time I complain to Alex about the baby needing to be fed every two hours, he starts humming ‘Hungry Like the Wolf’. Bastard.”

That sounded just like Alex. “You need to get him to take better care of you. Want me to call Aunt Barbara? She’ll straighten his ass out.”

Tabby shook her head. “Nah, we’ve got this. It’s just, I didn’t realize how hard this would be, you know?” Tabby’s Georgia drawl was slurred with exhaustion.

Heather crouched to get a better look at her new cousin. The baby was sleeping, her little bow lips pursed and sucking, her tiny fists on top of her jade green blanket. A wee knit cap kept her dark curly hair under wraps. “She’s so beautiful.”

Tabby’s lips curved in a sweet smile. “She is.” Tabby lifted her head as Cyn hung up the phone. “Trouble?”

“I have a client coming in and a wrong ink order, so yeah.” Cyn walked from behind the counter and nudged Heather out of the way, taking her place before the baby carrier. “Hello,
mija
.” Cyn touched the baby’s brow with one finger. “Look at you.”

“She’s getting so big,” Heather added. She glanced at Tabby with a smile. “By the way, everyone’s been asking about you.” It had been a month since Tabby gave birth, and everyone missed her around the tattoo parlor.

“Tell them I’ll be back in two weeks.” Tabby glanced down at the baby. “She’ll be with me when I’m here.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll all take care of her.” Cyn touched the baby’s arm again. “Right,
mija
? Aunty Cyn will show you all you need to know about life.”

“Lord help me,” Tabby muttered, wincing when the baby started to squirm.

Cyn scoffed as she picked the baby up out of the carrier. “Gimme the bottle. I’ll feed the squirt while you rest.”

“Thank you thank you thank you.” Tabby dug into the bag and dragged out a baby bottle, handing it and a white cloth to Cyn.

Heather eyed the two as Cyn began feeding the baby, wondering what a child of hers and Barney’s would look like.
Probably like a blond John Wayne, including tiny little cowboy boots.
“What about your client?”

“She can wait.” Cyn nudged Tabby with her foot. “I think she needs a nap more.”

Ah, that explained why Cyn was so upset about the ink. Tattooing a friend was a lot more nerve racking than doing a client. “Did the guy have the needles?”

“Yeah, he’s willing to do the exchange thing for us. Think you can run over and pick up the box?”

“Not a problem.” Heather went and got her purse and the red ink. “Anything else while I’m out?”

Cyn didn’t even look up from the baby. “Grab some lunch, sweetie. We’ve got a light schedule today, so just make sure you’re back by three. You have a client then.”

“Thanks, boss.” Heather waved bye as she ran out the door. First stop, the tattoo parlor.

It didn’t take her long to reach the place, and less time to drop off the red and pick up the needles. She didn’t bother to chit-chat with the owner, a large, leather-wearing bald guy by the name of Gus who was sweet as pie despite his scary looks. Gus was talking with a customer and didn’t have time to chat. “Thanks again for the needles, Gus.”

Gus shot her a warm smile. “No problem, kiddo. You tell Cyn if she needs anything else just to give me a call, okay?”

Gus’s place wasn’t nearly as nice as Cyn’s, and his tattoos were far more traditional than the work the girls did. No 3-D tattoos or artsy ink adorned his customers, and Heather thought that was just fine. Art was art, after all, and always in the eye of the beholder. Some of his stuff was just as awesome as the stuff Cyn and Tabby did, just different from what Heather wanted to do. “I’ll do that. See you around, Gus.”

“If you ever get tired of working for Cyn, you come see me, okay?”

She smiled and waved. She’d never leave Cynful. “Thanks, Gus. You take care.”

“You too. See ya.” Gus was back to his customer, talking about the tribal tattoo the man wanted on his bicep.

Her errand done, Heather decided the best thing to do was what Cyn had said. Lunch sounded wonderful, and she had a new book on her e-reader she’d been dying to get to. She’d have to set a timer and make sure she didn’t get too caught up in the tale or she’d miss out on helping Cyn with Tabby’s tattoo.

It wasn’t where she’d seen herself when she’d been sixteen and plotting her life. She’d planned on becoming an artist, perhaps working with paint, but she’d never managed to settle on what exactly she was trying to do. Watercolor was pretty, but got boring after a while. Oils and acrylics took time and patience, something she had, but for some reason it didn’t satisfy her.

Then she’d met Cyn, Tabby and Glory and been invited into their world of ink and skin and marvelous body art. While her family had been skeptical, especially her cousin Eric, Heather knew she was where she belonged. Her parents wanted her to go to college either for art or to learn the landscaping business and become a landscaping architect like Alex.

Working with flowers was the last thing Heather wanted to do. Unless they were made of ink.

She was so busy thinking she missed the curb. Down she went, scraping her knee and her hand. The box of needles rolled to the middle of the street and almost got run over.

Heather pulled herself to her feet, limping after the box. She hissed as she picked it up. Geez. She was going to get one hell of a ribbing when she got back and told them she’d tripped on air.

As she passed one of the stores she stopped to stare at her reflection in the window. Tilting her head at the image she made, she grimaced. Long red hair, messy from the summer breeze, blew past her pale face. Nondescript green eyes stared back. Her skin was so white it practically glowed, showing off her freckles. Her cut-off jean shorts and white tank top were nothing special, the Doc Martens on her feet worn and comfortable. Thanks to her tumble, she now had brand-new scuff marks on the toes.

No wonder Barney doesn’t want me. I look like any other campus kid running around Halle. I’m a complete mess. All I need is a backpack and the look would be perfect.

Halle was a college town, but it was also home to the Halle Puma Pride, led by the Cannons, Max and Emma. Because of that, the college was deemed a safe place to send shifter children for further education. It allowed shifters to leave their home territories and enter colleges that not only had the major they wanted to study but where their parents knew they’d be safe.

It hadn’t been so safe for her cousin Chloe, but Heather tried not to look back on the time Chloe was in the hospital, fighting for her life. She tried to focus on the fact that her cousin was alive and well, and back in school. Even better, Chloe had her mate, Jim Woods, cheering her all the way.

I wonder if Barney would cheer for me.

She squared her shoulders and glared at her reflection. Grunting in disgust, she moved on. She wasn’t going to change, not for her parents, and not for Barney. Nope. If anything about her changed it would be because she wanted it to.

Of course, there were a few things she’d like to change. Like her mated status. Watching her cousins getting all cozy with Glory and Tabby was driving her crazy. Meanwhile her mate kept her at a distance, refusing to acknowledge the pull at all unless it suited him. Hell, he’d ordered her to have nothing to do with some weird chick and her brother who were currently guarding Chloe and Jim. Why, she had no idea, but the fact that Barney had done so gave her hope. It was slim, barely breathing and crawling on all fours, but it was there.

“Heather?”

She froze as a deep baritone washed over her, making her shudder in want. “Barney.” She turned to find him just behind her, his image towering over hers in the plate glass window.

He was the epitome of everything she’d been terrified of before she’d met him. Tall, blond, with shoulders as wide as a Mack truck, she should have been running for her life.

Instead, she wanted to climb him like a tree and plant a damn flag on his head that declared him hers.

“What are you doing?” He studied her with an amused smile. He always looked at her like she was something amusing. She had yet to see him looking at her with desire.

“Getting something for Cyn. You?”

His brows rose. “Nothing. Just out for a stroll.” He gestured toward the box. “Want me to carry that for you?”

“Pfft. It weighs maybe two pounds. I think I got it, Barney.”

He patted her on the head. “Of course you do. Hobbits are stronger than they seem.” He bowed and waved, his T-shirt stretching over his shoulders. “After you.”

“Oh no,” she replied. “Age before beauty.”

His brows rose, but he took the lead with a small laugh. “Do I need to tuck you under my arm?”

“Only if you want your ass bit,” she muttered, falling into place beside him with a wince. Damn, her knee hurt.

“Not in this lifetime.” He took a few larger steps, effectively putting her behind him. “Keep up, shorty. I’m on a timer here.”

“Really? I thought you were just out for a stroll.” She quickened her pace, taking two steps to his one to remain at his side. She clenched her hand, hissing when pain shot up her arm.

“You’re hurt.” Barney stopped and pulled her under the awning of one of the local businesses. He tugged her fingers open and glared at the bleeding scrape on her palm.

“I tripped crossing the street.” She showed him her scraped knee as the pain in her palm eased.

He hissed in sympathy. “That looks nasty.” He knelt in front of her, brushing his hand gently over her knee. To anyone else, it would look like he was brushing something off, but for her the soothing heat of his power washed over her, taking the pain away.

He’d healed her, using his Bear’s power to do so. As far as she knew, Barney never healed
anyone
. As he stood, he took her hand again, checking her palm once more.

She smiled at him, needing him to know that it meant something that he’d done for her what he’d done for no one else. “Thank you.”

Their gazes locked together, her hand still in his. The world around them went silent and still. His thumb caressed the skin of her palm, making her shiver with a desire so sudden she almost dropped to her knees. Only his hold on her kept her on her feet.

Barney slowly let go of her hand, bringing the world crashing down around her senses once more. “You’re welcome.”