Shift Work (Carus #4) Read Free Page A

eyes from when I strangled him.
    “I do. No way ATF will let you off that easy,” Ben said, using our acronym for Agent Tucker Fucker. Another reason he was one of my best friends. We’d joked about using FAT for Fucking Agent Tucker, but came to the agreement we couldn’t get away with saying it in public as easily.
    “No. I don’t either,” I replied. “But it won’t come to that because I’m not going to let it go that far. If he says no, he says no.”
    “And then what?” Matt asked. “I can tell you right now, you won’t make it as a freelance singer.”
    I scowled at him. “No. But maybe I can do something else freelance.”
    Ben’s lip curled up, and Matt started laughing. To them, “freelance” referred to prostitution or stripping, but among assassins, it meant something entirely different.
    “That’s not what I meant!”
    “Whatever,” Ben said. Still chuckling, he handed me the clipboard to sign in.
    ****
    ATF. I recited my poem again and bolstered some courage to walk out of the elevator. Angelica, one of Tristan’s Wereleopards, greeted me with the condescending smile she reserved just for me. She loved Tristan, as a leader and probably as something more. They had no history like that, nor would they ever. Not if my hissing mountain lion and I had anything to say about it.
    The icy glare trying to freeze me on the spot spoke otherwise. Along with immaculate up-dos, Angie liked power, and Tristan had it.
    Mine , my mountain lion hissed, sending me images of Tristan’s naked body.
    The incinerator in my core kicked up a notch, and Angie’s ice-queen antics held no effect on me. The SRD office wasn’t the place for dominance games. My best behaviour meant keeping my mouth shut instead of bitch-smacking Angie like she deserved.
    What Angie really needed was a new man to set her sights on. Maybe Allan needed another lady friend to scare the crap out of. Not exactly Angie’s type, but the match-up worked for me.
    “I know a single Vampire, if you’re interested,” I said in way of greeting. Sure, Allan didn’t technically count as a friend, but she didn’t need to know that.
    Angie waved me off with manicured hands.
    “Super powerful. Super freaky deeky.”
    Her dainty little face pinched up as she scowled at me. “I assume you’re here to speak with Agent Tucker? He’s been expecting you since we got news of Lucien. I’ll let him know you’re here.”
    What the hell? How did Tucker know I lived? I paused and took a deep breath. ATF stole my thunder. I’d planned to give him a rude shock. “How’d he find out I survived Lucien’s death?”
    Angie shrugged. “Wasn’t from me.”
    Huh. Maybe ATF had more contacts in the supe community than I suspected. Or maybe he had me watched. My skin prickled, and my mountain lion yowled for release.
    Angie pushed a button on her desk, and Tucker’s nauseating voice trickled through the speakers. “Yes?”
    “Andrea McNeilly to see you, sir.” Angie’s voice dropped several octaves to morph into one of a throaty phone sex operator.
    Hmm. Last time I’d stomped into the office, Angie had been on her best behaviour with ATF, almost nervous. What changed?
    Maybe Angie no longer prowled for a power player. Maybe she went norm and saddled Tucker. God, I hoped so. That would make my day. ATF wouldn’t stand a chance against this man-eater.
    “Send her in,” Tucker responded.
    Angie somehow puckered and curled her lips in a look that screamed mean girl, and nodded toward the door.
    “Thanks,” I said. My lie stunk and it made me smile.
    One step into Tucker’s office and I had to take a deep breath to fortify myself against the bombardment of images assaulting my eyes. Tucker decorated his office using pictures of himself with important people, or at least, people he thought held some clout, including his father, the director of the SRD. None of those big names could stop me if I decided to let my feras have their way with