Chapter 1

A few minutes later…

Rami parked his car. The four-door, average-looking sedan had all the usual modifications police vehicles received to perform optimally for long periods of time, and then some. He left it in a perfect spot that was damn near impossible to find in the city right on the corner of the shop.

D’Angelo’s Bakery was just five streets over from his brownstone. In the opposite direction of his precinct. He was surprised Nana had mentioned it, since usually he’d just stop at Rico Pan Bakery on days, she did not pick up any goods.

D’Angelo’s was better, but it was farther too. Still, he knew the drive was worth it. They had the best bread and breakfast pastries he’d ever tasted. A few for the captain, some for the guys and gals, and maybe one or two for himself. Carb heaven guaranteed, and Rami was sure to have a good day.

His Lion chuffed happily. Even his inner beast enjoyed the scrumptious little delicacies. Feeling peckish, even after his rather large breakfast, Rami hurried indoors.

The sound of the brass bell ringing as he pushed the old-fashioned glass and wood door open was music to his ears. Rami sucked in the sweet scents of freshly made pastries, breads, and pies, and sighed. The bakery was a veritable cornerstone in the community, having been there for more than sixty-years now.

Rami himself had been a customer since before he could walk or talk. Nana started taking him after he cut his first tooth. There was nothing like a crispy Italian biscotti to help a young Shifter with teething woes. He must’ve gnawed on a dozen a day at one point or other.

Happy memories.

It was as much a part of his life as anything else in the close-knit neighborhood. Supernaturals tended to stick together, and the eight city-block area where he grew up had everything from Shifters to Vamps, Fae, Witches, and even a Chupacabra family who served as the local butcher.

Mr. D’Angelo was only half-Fairy. His father was a rare Moniciello from Naples to be exact, but he was neither trickster nor mischievous. A sweet, kind man, getting on in years, but a good soul, nonetheless.

Rami could tell. Call it a cop’s instinct. Mr. D’Angelo made more wedding, birthday, and anniversary cakes than any other spot in town. He knew the name of every person who walked into his store, and their families. Speaking of which, where was the old man?

It was a little late for the early morning rush, but the coffee smelled fresh, and he imagined the old man had already brewed four pots since he opened. Trays of baked goods were cooling on the racks behind the glass counters, and the room was filled with tempting scents driving his inner beast wild.

The place looked good. Too good, come to think of it. Like every inch had been lovingly polished and scrubbed. And recently, too.

Hmm. That was odd, thought Rami. Mr. D’Angelo was not usually this tidy. And he sure as fuck never had a potted plant in the bakery before. But there one stood. Directly in the corner. A tall Ficus tree in a wood-barrel pot. Upon closer inspection, Rami determined it was in fact real.

“Hello! Mr. D’Angelo?” Rami called out, leaning over the counter.

There was music playing in the back, where the ovens were located. Also new, he frowned. His senses went on high alert. Something very strange was going on here.

Truth was, Rami hated change. That morning had been so full of promise, but his plans were quickly going down the drain. He only wanted to walk into the bakery and grab a couple of dozen treats. The same way he had at least once a week for the past thirteen years.

“Anyone here?” he yelled again.

Then it reached him. The low, soft humming of an unfamiliar voice, one that was obviously female.

Grrr.

“One moment, sugar,” the bright sentiment reached him with a distinct twang of South Carolina teasing along his sensitive earlobes, down the canal, straight through to his entire body.

Holy hell. Rami’s Lion pushed against his skin. The great, dark-maned beast was curious, as was his human side to see the owner of that deliciously pleasant voice. Stomach muscles tensed, he swallowed audibly, willing the female to make herself known.

Then she appeared, like magic, amidst a ray of sunshine pouring in through the unshaded glass of the large store window. She was holding a tray of still warm cornetti, and it was all he could do not to drool. Whether said mouth-watering was over the pastries or the woman was still a toss-up.

It’s the woman, growled his Lion, and Rami found himself nodding his agreement.

“Hi there,” she smiled, and it was like the sun shining down on him after months of nothing but overcast clouds.

The female was petite. Hell, she couldn’t have been more than five-foot two inches tall. But she was all sweetness and rounded curves. The kind a guy like him wanted to hold onto in the middle of the night, and never let go. Rami shook his head to clear it. Where the fuck had that thought come from?

Her smile showed straight, white teeth outlined by naturally pink lips. She was all gold skin and warm, honey-brown hair loosely piled on her head and held in place with some kind of stick. He was certain it was fashionable, but what the fuck did he know about female hairstyles?

It was cute as fuck on her though. Everything about her was. Hell, the female was temptation herself. She wore typical chef gear. A white, double-breasted coat, and fucking hell, those breasts were double anything he ever saw, over loose-fitting pants with pumpkins and fall leaves all over them. On her feet, she wore burnt-orange Crocs.

He’d always thought them hideous, but they looked sexy as hell on her tiny feet. His eyes went back to her thousand-watt smile, and Rami was positively dazzled. Her expression was generous and open, a true welcome he didn’t think he’d ever experienced from anyone else. It was like she’d stood up and said there you are at last, I’ve been waiting for you.

He coveted that grin. Wondered how many customers she greeted the same way. Suddenly, he felt a certain green-eyed monster stirring within. He wanted that smile, her smile for himself alone.

Fuck. What was wrong with him? He didn’t even know the sandy-haired beauty with the ridiculously large, beguiling blue-eyes. But he’d like to.

Mine. Uh oh. What the fuck was his Lion talking about? He wanted to slap himself to snap him out of whatever spell the little witch was weaving over him.

Instead, Rami cleared his throat. Dumbstruck, just watching as she stood there, eyebrows raised expectantly, while she placed the tray she’d been holding on the rack along with the others. The scents of lemon-sugar goodness teased him, and despite having only just eaten, his belly rumbled appreciatively. Or maybe that was his Lion.

“Good morning,” he said, trying to smile, but still too confused to do it right.

It was unusual for him to feel so mixed up over a female. Rami had his choice of women, especially from within his Pride, but lately he found himself steering clear. Wasn’t worth the trouble to date someone he was going to see often and know it was going nowhere.

This one is trouble, he knew instinctively. Could tell from the wicked gleam in her eyes, and the fact she smelled so different from anything he’d ever scented. Human, he thought as he sensed no animal or Vampiric tendencies around her.

Just his luck to be attracted to a normal. The supernatural world, in particular the Shifter secret, was fiercely protected from humankind. Only few select normals were in the know. Mates, of course, but there were others too. Government officials, heads of law enforcement agencies, and the like.

Mate, his animal repeated the word inside his mind’s eye. The great golden beast growled softly, eyes glued to the female, body positioned to pounce.

Chill the fuck out, he commanded the beast. What the hell? Mates? No way. That word had no place anywhere near his mind when he was looking at the honey-brown-haired female.

Grrr.

Fuck. This was so not happening. Rami reined in his beast, and pretended to peruse the baked goodies, though he already knew what he wanted. And it wasn’t anything he could buy.

Grrr.

His Lion pressed one more time, but Rami bested the animal. Caging him deep inside and locking the beast down.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yeah, thanks. I’d like two boxes of breakfast pastries.”

“Okay,” she smiled “First, can I offer you a sample of my new flavor?”

The female reached behind the counter, giving Rami a tantalizing view of her backside that, even in her loose-fitting chef’s pants, was sensuously outlined. She turned back towards him with a plate full of bite-sized, powder-sugared goodness.

“Do you believe in love at first bite?”

Fuck yeah, his Lion growled.

“I’m sorry?”

“Try one of these, and you will,” she winked, and held out the miniature cornetti.

The Italian version of a croissant was one of Rami’s favorites. He was not about to refuse. And if she worked for Mr. D’Angelo then these were going to be great. He bit into one, still warm from the oven, and moaned appreciatively.

Flaky, buttery, and holy fuck, was that a raspberry-lemon filling inside?

“Mmm,” he grunted, “That’s fantastic.”

“Thanks. I plan on introducing a new flavor every weekday, along with traditional of course.”

“Really? What’s Mr. D’Angelo say about that? The old man hates change.”

“Well, he must be ready for it since I’m here,” she laughed.

“How do you mean?”

“While he’s out looking at houses down south to retire, I am working here with an option to buy.”

“Really? You a relative?”

“Actually, no. I saw his ad at my local culinary school,” she wagged her finger, “All these questions, you must be the detective grandson of that nice Mrs. Llewellyn who comes in for a loaf of bread every day,” the baker smiled.

“I am, and you are?”

“My name is Noemi. Noemi Donato.”

“So,” he quirked his lips, as things suddenly made sense, “you know my Nana?”

“Yes,” she laughed again, and fuck if it didn’t sound like tiny silver bells ringing in the air, “She is quite the lady. So kind and welcoming, and she sings your praises too.”

“I bet,” he murmured.

Yep, it all makes sense now. Why his Nana hadn’t gone out to get him his usual that morning. And why she’d insisted he come to this bakery himself.

“What pastries would you like?” Noemi pulled out one large white box and waited for him to order.

She licked her bottom lip. A tiny movement that seemed unconscious, but still hypnotic, nonetheless. It was enough to make him completely forget what he was going to say. Shit.

“Uh, yeah. Can I get two boxes, please? One with a dozen of assorted cornetti, and another with some of those donuts, and a couple of pieces of crumb cake.”

“Coming right up, detective,” she winked, and Rami felt as if the whole world just tipped on its axis.

Grrr.

Rami spent the rest of the day in a sort of fog as he mulled over the mystery that was Noemi Donato. She was beautiful, human, and not from around here. South Carolina was his best guess, if her sweet Southern twang was anything to go by.

Hell, he didn’t know Mr. D’Angelo was away on vacation. After some inquiries, he’d learned she was telling the truth. The elderly baker was looking to retire, and Noemi Donato was looking to move in. Could be a nice addition to the neighborhood. Very nice, indeed.

Grrr.

Every time he thought of the curvy, sweet as pudding female, his Lion got all growly and antsy. For some reason, the silly feline wanted him to go back to the bakery. To check on her, or hell, maybe just to see her. Yeah, the enormous cat could so get behind sitting guard at her feet.

The fuck? He had no time for this nonsense. He wasn’t some unlicked cub, for fuck’s sake. He’d been there done that already. Rami was all about the job now, as evidenced by the stack of files on his desk.

“Llewellyn! Get your pansy ass in here,” bellowed Alfredo Luani, the current Primus of the Luani Pride and the captain of the 135th Precinct.

“Yes, boss,” he answered in his normal voice knowing full-well the man heard him quite clearly.

The poor guy was having fits with all the trouble brewing amongst the Wolves within city limits. Goddamn furry fuckers knew better than to have their dominance challenges and territorial disputes spill over into human society. But it was even bigger than all that. Rami was one of the leading detectives trying to find the connection between the recent rush of B&Es and rumors of a Wolf-run gambling ring that was putting more Shifters in the hospital than the Giants tossed interceptions during all of preseason.

Big Blue all the way. Sucky record and all. That team was breaking his heart, but he wasn’t stupid enough to let them break his bank account. Poor sorry suckers risked their savings and paychecks betting against odds and wound-up needing surgery or worse.

It was a serious fucking problem, and Captain Luani had enough. Ready to have his ass handed to him by the Primus, Rami grabbed the box of pastries from his desk and, with a big smile, walked into the office of the most powerful Lion Shifter in all NYC.

“You got something in your ears? I called you three minutes ago,” snarled the man.

“For you, captain,” he said, depositing the box on the man’s pristine desk.

Just like magic, he thought and watched as the older man inhaled, and his anger dissolved. He tore the box open, biting into a huge, glazed donut, and polishing it off with his second chomp. The man had huge teeth, even in his skin. There, one happy beast, now maybe Rami’s ass was safe from a thorough chewing out session.

Only one person I want nibbling my ass. FFS. He couldn’t do this all day. Every time one of his thoughts got remotely physical, he was back to thinking of her. Noemi Donato.

“That was better than usual, Llewellyn. Where are you with the investigation in the Wolf Pack, Llewellyn? I have been on the phone with our liaison to the mayor’s office all damn morning. The fuckers are getting out of hand. They’re defacing property. Putting harmless bookies out of business. Running illegal games.”

“We on the bookies’ side now, cap?”

“Fuck yeah, we are,” grumbled the man while biting into his second glazed donut.

How the fuck? The gooey delicious pastry was the size of his head. Pretty fucking big. And yet he was downing the things like chips.

“Those guys we know, we trust,” grumbled the man around bites of fried dough, “Wolves are outta fwucking cwontwol.”

“Uh, yeah, I know, cap,” Rami raised one eyebrow, holding onto his mirth lest he be on the wrong side of his fearless leader, “Don’t worry. I have a plan to get us the warrants we need.”

“Well, get movin’ then. We need evidence to get that warrant. Bout time we set up some round the clock surveillance on those assholes.”

“Yes, sir. What about the burglaries?” Rami said noting the memo sitting at the top of the Primus’ inbox.

“What?” Luani replied, finishing the donut in three bites.

“There have been a series of break-ins and commercial property bust-ups. Nothing of real value taken, but the stores were burglarized.”

“Yeah, so. It’s connected, detective. Go detect.”

“Sir?”

“I said the cases are entwined. Look here, Wolf hair was found at the last robbery.”

“Fuck,” Rami cursed.

“What the fuck are you waiting for? Go get those bastards,” Luani bellowed.

“Yes, captain,” Rami nodded, leaving the office, and headed back to his desk.

A couple of hours, and three dozen phone calls later, Rami still had nothing. He growled and stood up, stretching his long-limbed body. He needed to get out and get some fresh air.

The 135th Precinct was always busy. Tonight, was Friday, and that meant it was twice as packed. Crooks and cops filled every inch of floor space. It was impossible to move about.

Almost every cop there was a member of the Pride, though they did have the odd Tiger, Bear, Coyote, and even a Gator Shifter who’d moved to New York from Florida after his bitter divorce. No kids. Thank fuck.

Rami side-stepped through a crowd of Bull Shifters from the local BBMCNY, that was the local charter of the Badass Bovine Motorcycle Club, who’d busted up a bar the night before. The guys were all grins this morning despite the busted lips, black eyes, and few broken bones.

“Hey man, my arm,” yelled one young Bull.

“Take it easy, princess,” snarled Lia Duboski, a plain clothes officer, and Lioness.

“Hey yo, Duboski, don’t hurt the little lamb,” snorted Desk Sergeant Amos Calloway.

“Shut up, Trent. You’re making us sound like pussies,” growled one of the bikers at the one who was complaining.

“All in a day’s work,” Lia snarked back.

Normally, Rami would enjoy the byplay, but he’d spent the day hunting down leads for his warrant and came up with zilch. He looked through the stack of mail, checking to see if anything had come in for him, when a call came in over the Desk Sergeant’s radio. His ears perked up as the officer rattled off information.

“What was that address, Amos?”

“You got cotton in your ears, Llewellyn? B&E and aggravated assault over at 62nd and Bath. Ain’t that your neighborhood?”

“Fuck,” Rami snarled.

Pulse racing, he almost tore through his clothes and let the beast out right then and there. His Lion had never felt this enraged before. Barely controlling himself, Rami raced out the door and jumped into his car.

Siren blaring, he hauled his ass across town and back to D’Angelo’s Bakery where the call had come in for the B&E and assault.

Motherfuckers, he thought with an angry growl. The sound so loud, it reverberated in the car for minutes on end. But he was just that fucking mad. More than that. He was incensed.

Rami’s heart was still racing, the beast barely contained, twenty-minutes later when he jumped out of his double-parked car and flashed his badge to officers on the scene. Damn the traffic. It took forever to get there. He grunted, trying to contain his growling as he headed towards the ambulance.

“Bless your heart, but no, thank you. I am fine, I swear. I don’t want to go to any hospital,” the sound of Noemi’s sweet Southern twang penetrated his ears, placating the beast inside him just a smidge.

Still, he needed to see her with his own eyes to assess the damage. Every fiber of his being demanded he go to the female, protect, and care for her as if she were his own.

Yes. Mine.

Shit. He had a job to do, and he couldn’t allow his suddenly possessive feline to dictate how he did it. Rami closed his eyes and counted to three, caging the beast before he walked around the large vehicle where two young EMTs were trying without much success to usher Ms. Donato onto a gurney.

“Miss? You’ve had a head injury,” one of them tried to reason.

The fucker leaned in a little too close, and once more, Rami found he had to tighten the rein on his inner cat. His Lion didn’t care for the way the younger male stepped into her space. Like he was trying to use his forward manner to force her to decide.

Fuck no, he thought and moved. But he didn’t have the chance to do anything. Her shoulders tensed, but she stood her ground. Turning just in time to see him approach.

Noemi’s eyes flashed to his, and Rami noticed relief and the ease of her tension immediately. The Lion chuffed in response. Placated that she recognized she was safe now that he was there.

But the fucker from the ambulance didn’t seem to get the memo. He had about two seconds to move away, Rami thought, before his Lion took over. And that would be very bad for everyone. Shit. He had to do something.

But once more, Noemi saved him. Even if she didn’t know a thing about what he was capable of. She was still a smart cookie, his little pastry chef. She seemed to sense the EMT’s pushy attitude was bothering him, and she stepped back. The added space eased his beast’s rousing anger.

“Listen, I got bigger black and blues playing football with my cousins. Really, I can’t go. I have two special orders to fulfill, and I don’t want to let Mr. D’Angelo down.”

He could see the darkening bruise on her forehead, and it angered him to no end. But knowing she was safe, seeing her warm smile, made up for it. Just.

“Noemi?” he called her name, watching the way her face reacted to his presence.

At first, she seemed anxious, then she relaxed, as if his being near alleviated some of her worry and anxiety. It was a heady feeling being responsible for another person’s happiness, but Rami kinda liked it. Dangerous ground for a confirmed bachelor.

“Rami, I mean, Detective Llewellyn. Thank goodness. Will you please tell these two nice young gentlemen that I am fine?”

“Call me Rami,” he murmured.

“Alright, Rami,” she smiled at him, but he could read her tension in the tightness of her lips.

“You heard the lady,” he growled, and both EMTs nodded and backed off.

Even the pushy fucker. Good news for him. The Lion wasn’t happy, but he lost interest in him once Rami turned to escort her back to the store and the scene of the attack. He would see to it, she was okay.

“Officers, please report what you’ve found,” Rami addressed the two uniformed cops on scene.

“Yes, Detective,” Officer Gotes, one of the beat cops from the station, nodded, “Officer McCulley and I responded to a 10-11L. When we arrived, we found Ms. Donato on the ground, obvious signs of an attack-”

“Were you unconscious?” he asked, biting his tongue to keep back his snarl of outrage.

“Um, a little,” she nodded, “the alarm went off as soon as the two men broke the glass window. These two officers arrived within minutes.”

“What happened from your perspective?” Rami asked, watching her face closely for signs of pain or discomfort.

He held her elbow gently with one hand and led her to an empty table. Ignoring the tingles that traveled through his body at the slight, platonic touch, he held out her chair and waited for her to take a seat.

It was one of two small tables that had been added to the tiny bakery since she’d started working there. Meant for the customer who wanted to sit and have his or her coffee and pastry before heading out. Nice personal touch, he thought, and hoped like hell she was really going to buy the place from Mr. D’Angelo. The idea of her leaving was unthinkable despite having just met the pretty Southern baker.

Rami turned slightly to get control of himself. Couldn’t very well interview a victim with a semi hard-on, now, could he?

He stepped over the broken glass, and felled racks of baked goods, signaling to the two officers to have someone clean up right away. No fucking way was she going to risk injury cleaning that up.

Bastards, his beast roared. They’d done a number on the place. Judging from the way she avoided eye contact, staring at the table, Rami could tell, she was shook up. Poor thing. His need to comfort her was damn near overwhelming.

“Do you need some time before we talk about it?”

“You’re sweet, thanks. I just need a minute to sit. If that’s okay?”

“Of course,” he returned watching relief spread across her face.

He waited while she closed her eyes and breathed in and out. The rise and fall of her chest, the way her brows furrowed, everything about her, called out the most masculine part of him. Rami had to fight his instinct to get up and take her in his arms.

Shit. This was getting out of hand, and it was only the second time he’d seen the female. He better focus on the crime. Clearing his throat, Rami looked around the destroyed room.

It was a good thing the 135th scanned all incoming calls for supernatural threats and headed them off before the human authorities arrived. The bakery had undoubtedly been targeted by supes, Wolves, to be precise.

Rami’s Lion had picked up the unmistakable scent of urine outside the front door. The assholes had marked the place. A punk gang move to tell others this was their territory. The same identifier that had been left at several other B&Es around town. Mutts thought they were the shit.

Not fucking likely, his beast argued.

“Thank you,” Noemi said, interrupting his increasingly agitated thoughts.

Why should he get so worked up over a normal getting a knock on the head? It wasn’t something he wanted to look at too closely. He nodded and handed her the ice pack he’d taken from the EMT, waiting for her to begin.

Part of detective work was getting the story from all angles. True, his enhanced senses had already solved whodunnit, but her perspective would perhaps fill in some of the why. At any rate, his Lion wasn’t ready to go anywhere just yet.

“Okay, well, I suppose I should start with what I was doing.”

“That would be fine,” he murmured, letting that sultry accent of hers wash over him.

“I was in the dry storage closet in the back, getting some ingredients for homemade apple dumplings, when I heard a crash-”

“What’s an apple dumpling?” he interrupted, head cocked to one side.

“Oh,” she blushed a becoming shade of pink, “I guess that’s not a New York staple, huh? Believe it or not, growing up that was a northern dessert. We’d traveled to Virginia and pick some up there for 4th of July fireworks near the capital,” Noemi cleared her throat, “Anyway, think of it as an individual apple pie. Instead of dicing the fruit, I core and peel it, leaving the apple whole. Then, I add cinnamon, brown sugar, and a little something extra,” she added with a wink, “Surround it with a hand-rolled, extra-buttery, extra-flaky pastry dough, and bake. I’m calling it a ‘little Big Apple’ on the menu. Just heat up and serve with ice cream, and I guarantee your tastebuds will thank you.”

“Sounds excellent,” he growled, “Where you from originally again?”

“South Carolina.”

“I thought so,” he coughed to cover up the rumbling growl that followed his otherwise unimpressive observation, “uh, sorry to digress.”

“No really, it’s okay. I appreciate the distraction. Anyway, Mr. D’Angelo told me about the security system he had installed recently, but I must have reacted on instinct. I thought maybe a squirrel, or something had gotten in through the vent and knocked over some bowls.”

“So, you went to investigate?”

“Well, yeah. My mama didn’t raise me to be afraid of a squirrel, Detective,” she laughed then moaned, “Mama sure is gonna be miffed about this.”

“Where is your mother now?”

“Back home in Blue Ridge. She doesn’t like me living up here. Too many people, too much crime, but I don’t know what to tell her other than I love the city,” she glanced towards the large picture window and sighed.

September was pretty in New York if Rami said so himself. The trees that lined the streets wore shades of oranges, yellows, and reds. Their best colors for sure. Noemi’s blue eyes flashed to his and he felt an unfamiliar warmth stirring deep inside.

“You do like it here, don’t you?”

“Of course. There are a lot of things in New York I would never see back home. A lot of people I would never have met.”

He was shocked at the truth of her words, so plain on her face. Was she flirting? Maybe. Yes, if he was lucky.

One thing he knew for certain, Noemi Donato was breathtaking. Her innocence and optimism called to him like nothing else ever had. There was no faking it with her. She liked the city, she liked her job, and just maybe she liked him too. An interesting piece of information if ever he found one.

“New York City was always this abstract notion when I was a young girl back home. A place people talked about like a fairytale or horror story depending on who was doing the telling. But I love it. So much to do and see. I mean, I’ve only been here a few months, but I am still glad I saw Mr. D’Angelo’s ad.”

“I see. Even after getting that bump?”

“Oh yes,” she laughed, wincing gingerly as he lifted the ice back to her head.

“Sorry.”

“No need. Anyway, the second I saw D’Angelo’s Bakery I knew I needed to get this job, to have this opportunity to see if I could make a go of the place. It’s been great so far,” she said, and withdrew the melting ice pack from her head.

Rami did not like the reminder she’d been hurt. Hell, he didn’t like the fact of it either. The only consolation was he’d get to find the bastards. Shifter law was a tad different than human law. Where one failed to account for the rules with which Shifters were supposed to conduct themselves, the Council made sure they were addressed.

In other words, if the Wolves responsible could not be brought to justice by conventional means, the men, and women of the 135th would see to it they paid for their trespasses. There were simply some things a Shifter could not get away with. Especially not in Rami’s city.

Rrrooaarrrr.

“Detective?” Officer Gotes interrupted.

“Yes?”

“We’ve found evidence of the robbery. Ms. Donato claimed upon our arrival that there was over nine hundred dollars in the till. The receipts confirm her accounting, but the register is empty now. The thieves took all the cash, they only left some loose change.”

“Oh no! I don’t know what I am going to tell Mr. D’Angelo, I feel so guilty,” Noemi frowned, and shook her head.

“Thank you, officer,” Rami said, dismissing the uniformed cop who nodded and walked back to his post.

“Ms. Donato, I assure you Mr. D’Angelo will not blame you for this occurrence.”

“It was my job to mind the store-”

“And do the baking? Now, I’ve lived in the area a long time, and I know Mr. D’Angelo has help to work the counter and register. Where’s Terrie? Did she show up?”

He could tell by the way Noemi’s cheeks deepened to a dusky shade of pink that she was hiding something. Terrie was a young Lioness Shifter who lived in the neighborhood. Her older brother Timothy was on the job, worked out of the 135th with Rami.

“Oh, well, when Mr. D’Angelo left me in charge, as a trial run before I buy the shop, Terrie sort of decided to take a few personal days,” Noemi cleared her throat, “I haven’t had the time to look for a replacement,” she said politely, but he could tell what was going on all too clearly.

Terrie did not want to work for the human. Unfortunately, prejudice existed in the supernatural world just like it did in the human one. Some thought they were higher on the food chain so to speak. Lions were apex predators, but they were all human too. The idea of anyone disrespecting Noemi did not sit well with him or his Lion.

“So, she didn’t show up for work or call, huh?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” she nodded, but the movement must have hurt her head because she winced.

“Look, I am going to take the lead on this. You just, put that ice pack back on, go home, take some aspirin. I will check in with you later.”

“Oh no, I have to work. Someone has to clean this mess-”

“I will see to it.”

His Lion approved of the idea wholeheartedly. Though not in his job description, it felt entirely right that he should take care of the tiny female. She was so soft, so sweet.

Mine.

Fuck. He gritted his teeth, fighting against the impulse to shout the word now that it took root in his mind. But now that he thought it, he couldn’t exactly unthink it.

Mine, his Lion growled in agreement. The great, dark-maned beast chuffed loudly, pressing his human half to stake his claim.

“Where do you live?” he asked, taking down her address, which was conveniently located around the corner, “And your number?”

“What?”

“I need your phone number, so I can call to tell you when we are finished processing the bakery. I’ll call a clean-up crew to take care of the glass and replace the window. Don’t worry, I know Mr. D’Angelo’s insurance and security firms,” he added before she could ask.

He wrote down the number, heart pounding as he did. He wanted her. No doubt about it.

The other thing wasn’t a lie. All the businesses in town that were owned by supernaturals were governed by the Council. They took care of things like this. Protecting their own against crimes and vandalism, especially when they were committed by other supes.

“I guess I should get going,” she stood up after a few more minutes of questioning.

“I’ll take you home Ms. Donato,” Rami insisted.

The Lion would allow for nothing else.

Mine.