Shifters: A Samantha Reece Mystery Book 1 by Jaime Johnesee (libby ebook reader txt) 📕

I was feeling today didn't make them any less true, but it did make me feel a tad more uncomfortable. I raised my hand to knock and the door opened before I could. I stood face to face with Ben, who was grinning at me.

"Hi." I figured starting small was the way to go. I could build on a hi.

"I could tell you were here," Ben whispered to me.

"What? How?" I was taken a bit aback.

"I don't know. I just all of the sudden felt right and somehow I knew you were close." He shrugged and stepped back to allow me in.

I ignored what he said and moved into the foyer. I noticed the space for the first time; I’d been too angry to take it in last night. He'd decorated it with a vaguely beachy theme and he'd done a good job of it. The paintings on the walls were of turquoise oceans, sand, blue skies, and beaches. There was a huge conch shell and a model sailboat in the niches on either side of the living room opening.

It was very tastefully done until you got to the table in the hallway. On it sat a hula dancer lamp, her hips gyrated while the light was on. There was a plate for keys with a painting of a nude mermaid on it situated on the table under the lamp.

Typical bachelor crap.

"Is Quinn here?"

"Yes, Agent O'Reilly is in the living room." He pointed the way.

He seemed uncomfortable that I hadn't responded to his confession of being able to sense my presence by feeling right. Honestly, though, how does one respond to something like that? Oh, I, too, feel whole and right whenever you're nearby? That's what he wanted me to say and, to be honest, that is how I was feeling, but I am not some goofy schoolgirl.

I know that us feeling this way is probably more than likely due to an unknown sire bond. Soulmates aren't real. They are something authors and Hollywood studios cook up to sell books and movies. My jaguar snorted as if she were laughing at me; she really liked him, regardless of how I felt. I mentally flipped her off and followed Ben into the living room.

He'd gone for a more minimalist approach in there and it was furnished with a couple brown leather recliners, a brown leather couch, and some beat to hell wooden end tables. All of this faced a fireplace ringed in grey granite tiles and topped with the biggest TV I had seen outside of a mansion. There were magazines scattered across the scarred wooden coffee table and some mismatched coasters that looked a lot cleaner and less used than the tables on which they sat.

"I'm going to grab a cup of coffee. Anyone want some?" Ben asked.

Quinn and I both shook our heads and thanked him for offering. After he left the room I walked over to the couch to sit by Q.

"Hey, Sam," Quinn said before leaning over and whispering in my ear as I sat next to him on the couch, "You okay doing this?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I spoke with him a little last night. I think we need to talk some more, but I get the feeling he's not a bad guy. I think he just made some seriously crummy decisions."

"I hope so. I mean he seems like a decent enough guy. A little cocky, but not evil."

"Yeah, the cocky comes from being a cat, methinks." I shrugged and he chuckled.

"Point taken. I guess since I've been able to put up with you all this time he should be a breeze."

"Ha, ha, very funny." I stuck my tongue out at Quinn just as Ben entered the room. His eyes dropped to my mouth and I pulled my tongue back in. The heat in his eyes made me blush and that deeply annoyed me. I really needed to find a way to break this sire bond. So far I hadn’t even been able to find any information about it at all.

"Ahem," Quinn said. "Are you ready to go over what you saw that night with us? We have the prelim report that the officer took, and I know Sheila asked a few more questions last night, but maybe we can help you remember some more."

"Yeah, sure, sounds good." Ben didn't take his eyes off me and I felt my jaguar mew under his scrutiny. Stupid cat.

"Um, Mr. Fitzpatrick?" Quinn was able to sense my unease and tried to help.

"Right, sorry." Ben pulled his eyes from mine and turned to Quinn.

"So, what did you see?"

"Well, I was at the Sleep-tite Motel on I-280 and I left my room to go to the ice machine. I saw a man coming out of a room, he smelled like blood, and a lot of it, so I followed him since he was going the same way the ice maker was. He was wearing a grey cotton tee shirt, a pair of jeans, and was carrying a knapsack. His clothes were clean, but his hair, short and brown, by the way, was slicked back … and I'm fairly certain he had some splotches of blood on his face. He got into a gold 1990s Ford Taurus and drove off. I went back to the room he came from and noticed the door was slightly ajar. I opened it and found...." He trailed off, his face turned white, and his voice got shaky. "Well, I found what I found."

"Why were you at the Sleep-tite?" This was a question I wanted to know for several reasons.

Ben looked at me with a slight grin to his face. "I have a business client staying there and I was hanging out with him watching the pregame for the Wings/Blackhawks match until he was ready to hit the sports bar where I usually go to watch the game."

"How'd you find a sports bar that shows the hockey games here?" I asked excitedly.

I know it wasn't an important