“Because I took this job because I like to keep people safe. If Shifters can help me do that, I’m not going to pass up the opportunity to recruit them.”
Kenzie believed him. She’d spent a lifetime reading body language, and his told her he put protecting people first, and rules second. “Won’t you get into trouble?” she asked.
He slanted her a grin. “I wasn’t planning on asking permission, or even mentioning it to anyone.” He became serious again. “I’m not interested in office politics. I want to catch this thing and figure out what it is before it does any more damage.”
Kenzie turned over the possibilities in her mind. Having insight into what the police were doing and what they’d heard about the incident might help Kenzie and Bowman determine where the monster had been taken, and who had taken it there. Bowman would be less than thrilled to learn he had to trust a human, but Bowman had often told Kenzie he liked that she was resourceful. Well, Ramirez was a resource.
She let out a breath. “All right.”
“Thanks,” Ramirez said. “I appreciate that. I’d appreciate it too if I could speak to your mate.”
“He’s kind of cranky right now,” Kenzie said. “He’s like that when he’s healing.”
Ramirez laughed suddenly. It was a deep, warm laugh, one that would make others laugh with him. Kenzie wanted to smile in response.
“I’m like that too,” Ramirez said. “Ask him if, when he feels better, I can come talk to him.”
“You want to come to Shiftertown?” Kenzie asked quickly.
“Better I go to him than he come see me at the station. People would get the wrong idea.”
“If Shifters see you roll up to our house in uniform in a patrol car, they’ll get the wrong idea as well. Shifters get nervous around police.”
Ramirez shrugged. “Then I’ll come by after work and not in uniform.” He gave her an open look. “I’m asking for help. That’s all. I think Shifters can help me do my job better, and I’m happy to work around regs to do it. So what do you say?”
He sounded sincere, but Kenzie had spent the last twenty years being suspicious of everyone. Ramirez might be the exception to the rule, or he might be trying to play Kenzie and the other Shifters for his own reasons. Only one way to find out, really.
She flashed him a sudden smile. “Sure. Come tonight and meet Bowman.” That would be fun to watch.
“Thanks, I will. After I’m off duty.”
“It’s a date. Am I free to go now?”
Ramirez laughed again, that rich, warm sound. “You always were. See you, Ms. O’Donnell.”
“Kenzie.” She gave him another smile, opened the door, and climbed out of the car. Across the way, Jamie and Cade came alert, but again she waved them off. “See you, Mr. Ramirez.”
“Gil,” Ramirez said. “When I’m off duty.”
“See you, Gil,” Kenzie said, and shut the door.
She hated to admit it, even to herself, as she turned away. She liked him.
* * *
Bowman woke from a sleep a few hours after Kenzie had gone and found Ryan, who was no longer snuggled against him, standing at the foot of his bed. “Woman’s here to see you,” Ryan said, his eyes narrow. “Human. Says she’s a vet.”
“Just came to check on you.” The breezy voice of the woman who’d set his leg last night came to him from the hall. “I like to follow up on my work.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The vet swept into the room. Bowman hadn’t had a clear look at her the night before—he’d been in severe pain, the back hall had been dim, and she’d been wearing groupie makeup.
Bowman remembered her scent, though. Beneath the perfume, which she’d left off today, she’d smelled clean, like soap. Today she smelled like antiseptic and whatever scared dog or cat she’d been working on.
Cat, Bowman decided, wrinkling his nose. All felines had a distinctive odor, whether Shifters or house cats.
The woman was about thirty, with a pointed face and blond hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail. Now that she had no penciled-in cat whiskers and cat’s eyes and had taken the black paint off her nose, he could see her cheekbone structure, light-colored lashes, and light green eyes. She wore no makeup at all, in fact, her lips a pale brownish red. She wasn’t as tall as Kenzie but she had curves beneath her button-up shirt and slacks. Obviously she’d just come from work.
“So?” she asked. “How’s the leg? Got it re-splinted, I see.”
Bowman lay still, not bothering to pull the blankets over his naked chest. His lower half was covered, except for the leg stuck out over the sheets.
“I didn’t catch your name,” he said.
She smiled, revealing dimples. “It’s Patricia. Patricia Brookman.”
“Dr. Brookman,” Bowman said, giving her a nod.