But what could be the connection? Adrian was human, the other two people were shifters. They had all disappeared from different places. Given that the three people were a young man, an older man, and a young woman, it didn’t sound like a serial killer; they were completely different types, and serial killers usually had a type. And Ginger had said they weren’t dead.
Blue Moon Junction was the only connection between the three people, but Coral couldn’t imagine how that would help her.
“Do you have any more questions?” Deputy Chief Carrillo asked, glancing pointedly at his overflowing inbox.
“Yes, but you’re not going to give me a straight answer, so I won’t waste my time or yours,” Coral said, standing up.
“I see you’ve got your sister’s smart mouth,” the deputy said, his voice a low growl.
“If you don’t like my sister’s mouth, I’m sure you can take it up with the sheriff,” Coral snapped, struggling to keep her hackles from rising. She could feel bones rippling in her face, and she suppressed a snarl and fought down the urge to shift and throw down. Nobody insulted her family like that.
Brock went pale. Bad-mouthing the Alpha’s mate was a dangerous thing to do.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, looking shaken.
“Forget it,” Coral said, and turned and walked out of the office without a backward glance.
Chapter Four
Flint leaned on the bar, nursed his bourbon on the rocks and glowered. He was not a happy bear. It was mostly his own fault, which annoyed him even more. He’d stood up the reporter this morning, even though he’d been dying to have breakfast with her. In bed, preferably.
There had been some truth to his claim that he had been called away on an emergency; there had been a report of more activity on The Site, and he’d shifted and gone out to do some recon. However, anyone from his team could have done that. The truth was, he’d sent Velma in his place because he had been thinking about Coral nonstop ever since he saw her sitting there in his office, and that scared him in a way he’d never felt before.
He wanted to see the sexy wolf again so badly he couldn’t think straight, which was exactly why he couldn’t see her again. He couldn’t afford to be distracted at a time like this. He had a mission to carry out, he had a cover to maintain.
A treacherous part of his brain, the part that was connected directly to his dick, wondered if Coral couldn’t be part of that cover. He was pretending that the only reason he and his crew were in town was to expand his family’s business. There was no reason for him not to go out on a date while he was in town, was there? Assuming she was even interested in a date.
No, he told himself sternly. She was way too distracting. Every time he called to check in with his team, every time he called headquarters, she popped into his head and he could barely think straight. And that was from just meeting her once. What would prolonged exposure do to him?
It was almost as if Coral was his fated mate. Which was ridiculous. He was a bear, she was a wolf, and frankly, he didn’t know if he even had it in him to settle down with anyone, ever. His work called him to all corners of the world. What woman would put up with that?
To top off his sour mood, he was stuck for the evening at this ridiculous bachelor auction that his mother had suckered him into. She kept insisting that she’d waited long enough for her oldest son to give her grandcubs and if she didn’t nudge him a little, she’d never have any.
To help him along, she’d volunteered him to attend the auction and neglected to tell him until the day it was being held.
He had to admit, she’d been very clever about it. She knew that if she gave him any advance warning, he’d find a way to wiggle out of it, so she’d pulled a sneaky bait and switch. She’d asked him to come over that evening for dinner with her and his father, and then called him up at 4:00 p.m. to confirm that he was still coming. When he said yes, she’d told him about the bachelor auction, and he couldn’t even back out of it, because she knew he was free that evening.
Nobody else would have dared pulled that on him, but his Mama Bear could get away with anything.
So here he was, stuck in the ballroom of a turn of the century mansion with an endless stream of women “accidentally” bumping into him and trying to get his attention, when there was only one woman whose attention he wanted, and that was a woman he shouldn’t go anywhere near. It was a complete waste of an evening, and then when someone bid on him he’d be stuck wasting yet another evening, but what could he do? At least they were serving top shelf liquor.
He leaned back on the bar with a scowl, and took another sip of bourbon, letting the smoky liquid burn its way down his throat like sweet fire.
“Buck up. It’s for a good cause,” Creighton Leicester, a local wolf shifter, said. The auction was a fundraiser for a new wildlife rehabilitation center.
“I’d rather just write a fat check than have to parade up and down the runway like a parcel of meat,” Flint grumbled.