Some Were In Time (2 page)

"Why the hell would anybody go to Wisconsin for a retreat?" I asked, confused. "I mean, I'd pick some place cool like Hawaii or Europe or Spain. No, wait, Spain is in Europe. My bad."

Angela gaped at me like I had two heads. I decided to ignore that. However, I thought my point was valid.

"Who's the agent?” Hank asked, getting the conversation back on track. "What's his name?"

"It's a her and her name is Dima," Angela said.

"Absolutely not," Hank hissed and bared his fangs.

"You have to realize that I have no choice here," she said nervously trying to plead her case. "I'm taking too many chances as is. I would never do it this way if life as we know it wasn't at stake."

"It's a very bad choice," Hank snapped.

"Lost here," I cut in with a raised hand. "Who the hell is
Dima
?"

"The question should be—what the hell
is Dima?" Hank suggested with a calm that belied his anger.

"Okay, I'll bite. What the hell is Dima?"

Angela tried to take another pull off of her now empty bottle and shrugged her shoulders. "A Dragon. Dima is a Dragon."

"There's a clusterhump in the making," I said with a laugh born of utter shock. "The whiskey has clearly eaten your brain. Call me crazy, but I don't think the Dragon will want to work with me considering I ripped the head off of one of her kinsmen last week."

"She's a double agent," Angela explained. "She's on our payroll."

"Which means she's on theirs too," Hank said. "Shitty idea."

"You got a better one?" Angela asked, completely frazzled. "Because if you do, I'm all ears."

Hank's jaw worked rapidly and I could tell he was about to lose it on Angela. I really wasn't in the mood for a bloodbath. As angry as I was at my boss at the moment, I liked her. We still had five days of very well earned vacation left and I didn't want to deal with the guilt Hank would have for ending Angela's life. It would wreak havoc on my sex life. That was unacceptable.

"We'll work with her," I said as Hank's head whipped to me in surprise. "But she will drink the serum that prohibits the Dragon shift. She'll have to stay hopped up on it the entire time we work with her or it's a no go."

"Brains and beauty," Hank murmured as he grabbed me and planted a hot one on my lips.

"She won't be able to defend herself," Angela said hesitantly.

"Yep. But more importantly she won't be able to kill us. Those are our terms. Take ‘em or leave ‘em," I told her.

"I'll take them," Angela said after a long pause.

"Alrighty then. I'd say it's been nice seeing you, but it hasn't. We're leaving now and if any of your flunkies try to stop us it will be the last thing they ever do. I have five more days of deathless freedom and I am taking them," I said in a voice I usually reserved for the outdoors.

Hank stood and I followed him out of the room, leaving a defeated looking Angela behind. Not my problem.

"Here's the deal," Hank said decisively as we walked back down the hallway. "We are going to pretend this didn't happen. We won't talk about it or think about it until we have to leave Georgia and report to Chicago."

"I can work with that," I agreed. "You wanna know what would help a lot?"

"What?"

"Sex. Lots of sex."

"I can work with that," he replied with a panty-melting grin that made me want to jump him in the airport.

"Good. Let's go enjoy the rest of our vacation," I said as I slapped his very fine rear end.

"As you wish, my mate. As you wish."

Chapter 1

"Dang, it's beautiful here," I shouted to no one as I sped solo down the country road that wound along the sparkling blue ocean. Two days after the heinous meeting with Angela I was doing fairly well not thinking about what lay ahead. I was home and still had three more days of blissful vacation. Hung Island, Georgia was as close to paradise as you could get. I'd tried to run away a year ago, but fate and some psycho Were Dragons brought me back and I couldn't have been happier.

I pressed down on the accelerator and held my breath. On one side the ocean whipped by me in a blur—on the other side tall grasses and rolling hills. The siren of the police cruiser that rode up my ass from out of nowhere made my stomach clench. I blew out a long sigh and pulled over.

"Ma'am?"

"Yes?" I asked as I rolled down my window and peeked out from behind my sunglasses.

In the early morning glare of the sun the sheriff looked huge—hotter than hell and ginormous.

"You were driving forty-five miles over the speed limit."

I couldn't see his eyes as they were behind aviators, but the rest of his face matched his smokin' hot bod. "Are you sure, Sheriff?" I gave him my best sexy smile and a giggle.

His full lips thinned as he rocked back on his heels. "Speed detectors don't lie. License and registration, ma’am."

"You got it, Hot Stuff," I said as I handed over the requested paperwork.

Ignoring my wildly inappropriate endearment, he looked at the papers carefully while I did the same to him. God, they sure built them nice around here.

"I'm going to have to ask you to step out of your car."

"Really?" I asked as I bit down on my lip to keep from squealing with excitement.

"Yes. Step out of the car and place your hands on the hood."

"Can I put on some lip gloss first?" I asked politely.

"No ma’am, you cannot. Out of the car now. It would be a shame to have to cuff you and bring you downtown."

Today was the best day ever.

I stepped out of the car and brushed his massive chest
accidentally
with one of my breasts as I made my way to the hood of my car. His quick intake of breath was music to my ears and I knew the pants of his uniform had just gotten tighter.

"Like this?" I placed my hands on the hood and spread my legs so my miniskirt hiked up to the level of indecent.

"Jesus Christ, Essie. You left the house wearing
that
?" Hank, our local sheriff and my sexy mate, griped as he yanked my skirt back over my bottom. "Where in the hell are you going dressed like that?" His normally green eyes had turned icy blue with desire.

"To try on wedding dresses," I told him as I jumped him and wrapped my legs around his waist. "Don't you like it?"

"In the privacy of our bedroom it would be great, but in public where any man can see the color of your panties—no."

"Thong," I corrected him.

"Worse," he replied.

"Aren't you gonna feel me up and check for weapons?" I asked as I placed little kisses along his lips. "I am a deadly secret agent."

"What I want to do,
deadly secret agent
, is put you over my knee and spank you for going out in public dressed like this."

"Works for me," I said as I tangled my fingers in his thick dark hair and laid a big one on him.

"God, you taste good," he muttered as our tongues tangled. He grabbed my ass and ground me into his happy camper. "Can't get enough of you."

"Then don't," I whispered against his lips.

"You wanna take the chance of someone from town driving by and seeing me take you on top of your car?" he inquired as his hand crept under my shirt and caressed my breast.

"Um, no… we could get in the back seat," I suggested as I arched into his talented hand.

"I don't fit in your car, Essie," Hank said.

He was right. He was huge and my car was tiny.

"Didn’t you drive the cruiser?" I asked as I glanced around. My eyes landed on his motorcycle and I sighed dramatically. "You are woefully under prepared today, my fiancé."

"You are correct, my fiancée," he answered with a huge grin on his face. "And P.S.— you're driving the wrong way if you're going to the bridal shop."

"I know that," I said. "I knew you were working this stretch this morning. I was hoping to get arrested and felt up by a sexy sheriff."

"As appealing as that sounds—and trust me it's appealing," he said as he pressed his painfully hard lower half against me. "I actually am working at the moment and you have an appointment. Please tell me you have a change of clothes in the car."

"Nope. Can't tell you that," I said as I slid to the ground, wiggling all the way. "As long as I'm not bent over a car my ass will feel no wind."

Hank ran his hand through his hair in frustration and backed me up against the passenger door. "Who will be at your fitting?"

"Granny, Dwayne and the bridal shop gals," I said, knowing he would be fine with that crew. Granny was my Granny and Dwayne was my three hundred year old gay Vampyre best friend.

"Species?"

"Of the shop gals?" I asked.

"Yep."

"It's Lori and Layla. They're Were Weasels," I told him as I bent over far more than necessary to get back in my car.

"You're killing me, Essie," he growled. His wolf was close to the surface and I was so turned on I needed to get the hell out of Dodge before I took
him
on the hood of my car.

"I know, Hank," I shot back. "It's my job."

"Be careful, my little Werewolf," he said as he gave me one last scorching kiss.

"Careful is my middle name," I said as I gunned the engine of my small piece of crap and peeled out.

Through my rearview mirror I spotted the love of my life and I giggled. His hands were in his hair and he was looking up to the Heavens like he was praying.

***

"Oh my God, I look fabu," Dwayne squealed as he pranced around the bridal shop wearing a full-on princess wedding gown with a sequined bodice.

The Were Weasels, Lori and Layla, who owed Bring on the Bride were speechless. Actually I was speechless too. Almost. We'd been here for three hours and I was ready to punch somebody in the head.

"Um, is he planning on buying that?" Lori whispered to me as we watched him defy gravity, do a leap across the room and land in the splits.

"Hell if I know," I muttered. "Dwayne?"

"Yes, doll?" he asked as he gracefully rolled out of the splits and hopped to his feet.

"You gonna buy that dress?"

"Do you think I should? White's not really my color, but I love what this neckline does for my pecs." He examined himself critically in the trio of full-length mirrors.

"First of all," I snapped. "We're here for me. You are not getting married—I am. You have tried on fourteen dresses. I have tried on two. There is something wrong with this picture."

"Oh honey, let him be," my granny said without looking up as she played Scrabble on her phone. "How often is Dwayne going to be allowed to go in a store and try on wedding dresses without getting arrested? Son of a bitch," she shouted and slapped her phone. "This Scrabble bastard cheats. What in the hell is a
zyzzyva
? Total bullshit word. I tell you what… I'm gonna find him and skin him alive.

"I thought you played with the computer," I said, slightly confused.

"I do."

"Alrighty then." I pressed the bridge of my nose and wondered how refocus the attention back onto myself… where it was supposed to be to start with. "Dwayne, remove the dress. I'm not wearing white, so neither are you."

Granny's eyes narrowed dangerously and I scooted away. "What color you wearin', sugar plum?" she asked in a deadly quiet voice.

I debated telling her. We were in public and I hoped that would mean I wouldn't get my butt handed to me when I sprung the color on her.

"Granny," Dwayne interrupted my inner debate. "Just in case you didn't know, Essie is
not
a virgin. I would think the church would go up in flames if she wore white."

"Actually, I would think it would be more apt to explode with you wearing a dress," I told Dwayne—my Vampyre BFF.

"But you promised," he whined as he stomped the blush pink four-inch stilettos he had tried on.

"Fine," I relented. "But you're not wearing white and it has to have sleeves. I don't want to catch a glimpse of your armpit hair on my wedding day."

"Good point, well made," he said. "However, I could get my pits waxed… "

"No," I yelled in unison with Lori and Layla.

"It was just a suggestion," Dwayne said with a pout.

"Um, we have four brides waiting," Layla said nervously. "Would you like to try anything else on today or should we make another appointment?"

"I think I'm good," Dwayne said as he slipped out of his gown.

"She was talking to me," I informed him with an eye roll and a laugh.