The White Werewolf's Love (Interracial Shifter Romance BWWM Paranormal) Read Free

carrying the weight of it. Most recently, he only took low profile cases because they meant less traffic and scrutiny, but this case had landed on his desk and when he saw the name and read the report, he was intrigued.
                  The two had gotten stuck together when they had assigned them on street duty. Mueller had not done much profiling before, but he had been a natural. He had proven his mettle both as an officer of the law and as a partner. For several other minor cases Steele had brought him along with him, until he didn’t feel comfortable anymore working alone-before Mueller, he was pretty much a stand-alone man.
                  They got into the police cruiser and made their way to Wall Street. They hated this side of town where all the wealthy congregated and pervaded the atmosphere with corruption. Mueller glanced at some notes he had to confirm the name and location of the firm, and pointed to a building a few feet away. It was one of the many skyscrapers that towered to heaven, and resembled most of the other structures in the neighborhood. Steele pulled the cruiser over to the curb and exited the vehicle. Mueller walked around to join him and they both went across the street to the glass panel doors.
                  They pushed the heavy doors open and walked in side by side. Momentarily a few persons paused from their tasks to acknowledge them, and then resumed their duties. It would appear as if they were accustomed to uniformed personnel. They walked through the lobby area, and scanned the directory posted on the wall. Derek’s firm was on the tenth floor. They made their way to the elevator and punched the number ten. A small man with horn rimmed glasses rushed in before the doors closed, but then seemed to regret it when he realized who his company were. The music wafting through the speakers didn’t help and made the tenth floor appear much farther than it actually was, so that they were all relieved to escape it.
                  They looked both ways when they emerged from the elevator and discerned the receptionist would be to the right; to the left was a huge glass wall, for that couldn’t rightfully be termed a window. They headed right and soon came upon a mahogany desk with a middle aged woman sitting there. The phone lines were ringing off the hook, so she didn’t get a chance to say anything more than “Gables Investment, please hold.” She held up her index finger to indicate to them that she would be with them in a few seconds; that translated to about five minutes.
                  Finally she motioned to them, but when she heard the nature of their business, she asked them to wait while she contacted one of the partners.
                  “Mr. Brentford will be with you shortly. Would you like something to drink while you wait?” she asked courteously. They politely declined, which seemed to give her some measure of relief. Steele smiled to himself when he read the words ‘thank God’ on her face. He knew most times they were empty gestures so he did not provoke discomfort.
                  In two minutes a balding man in a pin striped suit emerged from an office at the far right further along the passage and signaled for them to join him. The detectives walked along what felt like the yellow brick road on their way to Oz. Brentford held the door for them while they entered and then silently closed it behind them.
                  “Please, have a seat gentlemen,” he said and pointed to a row of chairs along the wall.
                  “Thank you, but if you don’t mind, we would rather stand,” countered Steele.
                  “Oh? Very well then,” Brentford said, popping his eyes in the process. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
                  “Are you in charge now?” asked Mueller.
                  “In