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.

  Chapter 2

  “Mama, I told you already. I am fine. It’s just a bump on the head,” Noemi poured herself a tall glass of iced sweet tea and sat down at the tiny table in her eat-in kitchen.

  Every apartment she’d looked at in NYC seemed to be the same size. As in teeny weeny. Still, she loved some of the older homes with their big sandstone brick facades and wrought iron fences. The architecture was so different from back home. Noemi especially loved the ones with the tiny secret gardens out back. She noted several in the neighborhood, and they all called to that special place inside of her that loved to commune with nature.

  People never expected to feel that way in the city, but it was truly teeming with life. So much energy existed in New York. All of it flowing in and out of the millions of people, animals, and plants. The structures and monuments, heck, even the graffiti, were full of life.

  It was exciting. Different. New. Interesting. And exactly where she was meant to be. Thoughts of a certain sexy as all get detective flittered through her mind, and Noemi had to agree. Maybe destiny had brought her to NY. Maybe the detective was her future, she wondered, biting her lip as all manner of naughty thoughts filled her brain.

  “Noemi! Honey, can you hear me?”

  Ugh. Why did that Officer Grotes have to call her mother when he found her on the floor? For Pete’s sake! The woman was never going to let this go.

  “Don’t you think you should come back home where it’s safe, Mimi? They don’t even have decent sweet tea up there!”

  Noemi rolled her eyes at her mama’s use of her childhood nickname. She was sweet, but she cared a little bit too much. Truth be told, she was downright meddlesome when it came to her only daughter. Noemi gritted her teeth against the many criticisms of her choice to move, but she did not react. She was there now. Living her dream and finding her true path.

  “I make my own tea. And we’ve been over this a hundred times. New York is my home now, Mama. Besides, you know why I am here,” she told the older woman firmly, but with the respect instilled within her since she was knee high.

  “I know, but someone else can do all that. Please, I need you safe, Mimi-”

  “Mama, I haven’t used the name Mimi since I was four years old,” she laughed trying to brighten the mood.

  It was always the same conversation. Sometimes she felt as if her mother had only allowed Noemi to move all the way to the evil north because she’d expected her to come running back home with her tail between her legs. She’d come close. Twice.

  Once, when she just arrived and been mugged getting off the subway, and for one moment that very evening, when she’d been hit on the head and thrown to the ground by the two mask-wearing burglars.

  Sigh. She wasn’t a coward by nature, but something about the unprovoked violence had struck a nerve. But other than those two instances where human nature had almost gotten the best of her, Noemi was fine. Even now, she was determined to stick it out.

  “You’ll always be Mimi to me, sweetheart, I just can’t understand why you’d want to live in a place that doesn’t have a decent bowl of grits in a hundred-mile radius?” her mama replied easily.

  “They do, Mama. It’s just called polenta here,” she smirked, knowing her mother was going to lose her cool any second now despite her marrying a man of Italian descent after Noemi’s own father had passed.

  “Polenta? I cannot believe my only child who wore the Little Miss Blue Ridge second runner up banner in the Annual Harvest Festival when she was just eleven-years old would say a thing like that to me. Polenta indeed! Oh, hush, here comes Carl,” her mother tsked into the phone.

  “Please tell Carl I said hi. Now, I gotta go, Mama.”

  “Alright, sugar. But you remember, the door is always open. Still, Danu protect you. Oh, and I saw Peter the other day. He is still single, you know.”

  “No doubt, Mama. Alright, bye now.”

  “Bye, Mimi.”

  Their goodbyes were followed by the usual air kisses and promises to call soon. Noemi hung up, gratefully.

  Truth was, Noemi was lucky to have someone as understanding and strong-willed as her mother. The woman had raised her alone after Noemi’s father had suffered a fatal heart attack at only forty-four years old.

  She’d been too young to really remember him, but when she did, it was always with warmth and kindness. Never a bad thought for either of her parents. She’d had a blessed childhood. Even her stepfather, Carl, had turned out to be a loving, and truly wonderful parent to Noemi.

  Moving to New York City, finding this close-knit neighborhood, and working at D’Angelo’s Bakery with the prospect of buying the establishment from the owner, were all just checkboxes off the things she wanted to accomplish in her life. Sure, this unexpected attack was a little bump in the road, but would she let it change the course of her life? No way.

  She was in it for the long haul, as they said. Her mother’s reference to her ex only made her dig in her heels harder. Thirty-years old, unmarried, and with no prospects, going back home, would make her the highlight of conversation for local gossips for weeks to come. Her small town was grossly un-modern when it came to women choosing career over family.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8