Shifters: A Samantha Reece Mystery Book 1, Jaime Johnesee [i have read the book txt] 📗

and washed my face with ice cold water from the tap. I looked like I'd been crying, but I knew the guys wouldn't say anything.

That's the great thing about working with mostly men, they don't pry. Sure, Quinn will probably ask if I'm okay when we get out of here, but he won't do it in front of Josh. No way would Josh ask; he doesn't know me well enough.

It's a strict part of the guy code; feelings don't exist unless it's rude not to acknowledge them. If you've no other choice but to do so, make said acknowledgement as quick and manly as possible. Guys have a tendency not to over complicate things. I appreciate that about them.

I blew my nose on one of the rough brown paper towels, tossed it in the garbage, washed my hands, splashed some cold water on my face to hide the tear tracks, and returned to my table. I was sure that I'd hid the fact I'd been crying fairly well and figured Quinn might be the only one who'd notice.

When Kelly was pregnant he had become extremely adept at noticing women's emotions. He once joked that he received his estrogen card when he married her, thus making him an honorary girl. Then he immediately recanted upon realizing what he said and begged me not to tell Chad. I didn't ... well, I haven’t yet, anyway. As I was sitting down Genie came up behind me and, when I was fully seated, she placed my food in front of me.

"Thanks, Genie."

"No problem, sweet pea." She looked at me curiously and I could tell she knew I'd been crying.

I shook my head lightly and she nodded her understanding that I didn't want to talk about it, then patted my shoulder and walked back to the counter.

I dug into my food and enjoyed every second of it. Some people think making corned beef hash is easy. It's not. If it's done right the tastes blend together in harmonious perfection causing near orgasmic joy on one's tongue.

Do it wrong and it's nothing more than a big, salty, globby mess. Luckily, the cook here was brilliant at it. The potatoes were never mushy, the corned beef never too salty or dry, and the eggs were always picture perfect.

I think that's why we came here so often.

Sure, sometimes we stole up the road for some Moe's Southwest Grill, but nine out of ten times you could find us right here enjoying food cooked by a chef who didn't have the attitude of a diva and knew how to ply his craft with expert skill. It was a rare find and it's why The Diner worked so well. Great cooks plus great waitresses and waiters equals great food and superior atmosphere. Okay, so I really like this place a lot, forgive me if I blather about how great it is.

While I ate, savoring every bite, thoughts of my maker haunted me. His piercing green/gold eyes had bored into my own and I kept replaying that stupid moment in my head. The way my breath caught in my throat, my heartbeat accelerated, my stomach twisted; it was the weirdest feeling in the world and one I hadn't encountered since I was a kid.

I felt like an idiot teeny bopper meeting their childhood celebrity crush. I'd just stood there gaping at him like a fish out of water. It's not like I'd never been attracted to a man before. I had, countless times; there was just something about this particular man that grabbed me in a very bizarre—and not all that bad—kind of way. There was an attraction I was convinced could be blamed on a sire bond.

Speaking of, I really need to look into those and see if they actually exist. I’ve never heard about them outside of Hollywood. It's entirely possible that my attraction was nothing more than the aforementioned bond. It's also possible that I was an idiot who was excited about the fact that I'd met someone like me for the first time ever. Either way, I found myself wanting to know more about him.

Yes, perhaps meeting another jaguar was behind the instant chemistry I'd felt. We shared a bond by the simple fact we were both jaguars. Yes, that had to be it. I was so attracted to him because of both the sire bond and the fact he was a kindred soul. I nodded to myself and continued shoveling the delicious food into my gob.

"Sam?” Quinn tapped on the table. “You still with us?"

"Huh? Yeah, sorry. Just enjoying the food and got lost for a moment." Yeah, that's it, I got lost thinking about the food and not the jaguar who'd bitten me and totaled my old life.

I really want to know why such an uber-asshole had to be so good looking. Was it a prerequisite for douchebag status?

"Right. Anyway, Josh called the preacher man and he says we can stop by, no problem. Only hiccup is that we have to wait until later this afternoon."

"Fine. Works for me. We can go back to the office and start writing the media alert."

"No."

"Excuse me? What do you mean, no? This guy is killing lycans. We can't just let them go on about their lives without warning them!" I set my fork down and took a big swig of Pepsi.

I was going to need the caffeine if I was going to have this fight with Quinn, and dammit, I was going to have this fight.

"Look, if we get on the press and warn all weres it'll just cause a panic."

"The fuck?" Yes, eloquent and to the point, that's me.

"Think about it, what sort of lycans is he targeting, Sam?"

"Hookers. What does it matter, Q? Since when is the victim at fault?" I could feel myself growing ever angrier and I took some deep breaths.

"Do hookers usually watch the news, Sam?"

"I see. No, they don't. Anything that they need to know they get from each other. So if