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

"Can you change in your car?"

I thought about what he said and agreed it was probably better if I changed somewhere less public. I just wasn't sure my car was the best idea. I'd spent so long restoring her I didn't want to mess up the seats. Sometimes, during a shift, I cough up some blood. I'd hate to stain my interior. However, the interior of my car was nothing compared to how stained my life would be if it was my fault supers were outed.

"Yeah, probably should." Not that a big black cat is inconspicuous, but it can be explained a lot easier than a federal agent turning into a black cat.

We walked over to my car and I got into the back seat and began removing my clothes; no sense in getting them all torn up. Once they were folded neatly into a pile I called forth my jaguar and started to shift.

When the pain had passed, I asked Quinn to open the door and I stepped out. He put a collar and leash on me and started following my lead. As much as I despised being collared I knew it was for the mental well-being of the general public.

For some reason when people see a big cat on a leash they feel more comfortable. Big mistake. Cats on leashes are far more dangerous than an unrestricted cat. Cats don't fight unless they have to; we'd prefer to run from danger if need be.

On a leash we can't run and so it makes us a little more hostile to the moron who has tethered an angry feline to themselves. As I walked with Quinn to the spot I first scented Grisly, I caught a trail. I followed the smell back to the dumpster behind the church.

"Well, climb in, man. I can't quite do it in this form." Luckily a good grin transcends all species and Quinn could see the one I was wearing even through my jaguar face.

"Oh, sure, take the easy job."

"Easy? O'Reilly, did you smell the suspect? Did you follow his trail here? No, then I guess it’s your turn to do the tracking. Climb in and enjoy."

"Sorry, Sam, you've gotta come with me. If I'm in the dumpster and someone comes along, they're going to freak out to see you on your own."

"What?" Before I could say anything else I found myself being lifted into the dumpster. "Quinn, you asshole, I'm naked under this fur!"

"Sorry, Sam."

My foot hit something slippery and I slid a bit, landing muzzle first into a pile of spaghetti. "You're a prick. A total asshole. I can't believe—” I broke off as I saw a briefcase that smelled strangely familiar.

"You can't believe what, Reece?" Quinn sounded slightly concerned.

"There’s a briefcase here and it has Grisly's scent on it."

"Well, bring it to me."

"What the fuck, man? I’m not your damn dog, Q, and if you want to keep your head where it is you might want to try being a little more polite to me."

"You're a real bitch when you get marinara in your fur."

"Yeah, so are you." I grabbed the briefcase by the handle and carried it in my jaws as carefully as possible through the dumpster to where Quinn was hanging over the edge.

Not one to miss a chance, I pulled on the case when he grabbed hold and he tilted head first into the dumpster with me. I smiled at him.

"I suppose I deserved that."

"A little bit, yeah."

"Anything else in here reek of our guy or just the briefcase?"

"Just the case."

"Okay, I'm climbing out and then I'll give you a hand in getting out."

"You're going to have to hose me off."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not going around all day with garbage all over me."

"I have to."

"Yeah, it didn't touch your bare skin, jerkwad."

"True, but it didn't touch yours, either. It'll go wherever the fur goes, right?"

"The fur goes back in me, man. Come on, they have to have a hose near the dumpster."

"Sam, it's cold as ice out here. You'll freeze."

"For a few minutes until I'm clean, can shift, and get dressed. Besides it can't be colder than forty-five degrees out."

"Fine. Let me get out and I'll hose you down and take you to the car."

"You could've avoided this altogether by not dropping me in a dumpster full of food."

"Well, now I know. Future me will never do it again."

"Good, don't. Mostly because I really don't like present you much right now, so I’d definitely dislike future you if you did."

"Okay, come on and jump, I'll catch you and swing you over."

"Yeah, that'll work. Step aside." Quinn did as I asked and I took a springing leap out of the dumpster and landed next to him on the concrete.

Sure, I landed face first, but I cleared the dumpster, so, go me!

Quinn pulled the hose off the reel it was wound on and turned on the spigot. Arctic water pelted me on the side and my jaw started shivering.

"Hurry up, Q! It's bloody freezing!"

"Hold your horses, almost done." The hose moved like an icy knife up and down my cat form until I was sopping wet, and cold as a reindeer's ass. While he turned off the water and rolled up the hose I shook my fur out, sending freezing droplets out to pelt Quinn.

"Damn, sorry, Sam. I didn't realize it'd be so cold." He hurried to the car and opened the back door for me.

I jumped in, changed, and got dressed. Once I was clothed I scooched out of the backseat and stood next to Quinn by where he’d left the briefcase. He called a forensic tech to come out and log it. Until the guy got there we had to stand in the parking lot, watching it. Wet strands of hair clung around my face and my jaw shuddered whenever a breeze blew.

It was the coldest I ever remember being. Quinn started my car and left it running so I could warm up until the