By Donna Michaels
Available now at Forbidden Publications
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What’s the world to do when gold starts disappearing and the agents assigned to the case are turned into life-size lawn ornaments?
Send in Double O Fang Agent Pierce De Vein, and Shifter Intelligence Agent (SIA) Kitty Katt to investigate. Unhappy with their forced alliance, each loner must learn to work with a partner and stop trying to outdo one another long enough to solve the case. When the evidence points to an evil gnome and his army of rogue leprechauns, the agents infiltrate the organization in the forms of a bat and a cat.
Will their plan work, or will they end up sleeping with the daisies as a pair of garden decorations?
“Let me do the talking.” He got out and slammed his car door without waiting for her reply.
“Now, why would I do that?” His pain-in-the-fang partner stared at him from across the hood, one finely arched brow raised as if in flight.
Suppressing a growl, he rounded the bumper and stepped onto the sidewalk. “Because, these are my people and I said so.” Fists clenched, he reminded himself the supercilious woman falling into step wouldn’t be around much longer.
Known as the Dirty Harry of P.L.A.S.M.A, he never kept a partner long—they either died or defected to the other side.
“Your people?” She snorted for a few steps, then stopped.
He glanced at her slackened body.
Overcome, she laughed so hard tears rolled down her heart-shaped face and dripped into the peek of her exposed cleavage. His groin tightened. Had the drop traveled the whole valley? He ripped his gaze away. This was no time to be aroused. Ignoring his libido, he stomped toward the bar. She wasn’t even his type. Hell, she wasn’t even human.
Neither was he, but that wasn’t the point.
Her laughter followed him down the street like a disco tune—painful to his ears.
That’s it! He flew to her side in less than half a second. Wind from his hastening blew his hair into her face. “Yes, my people. Do you have a problem with that, Ms. Katt?”
She didn’t flinch—didn’t blink. “I just can’t picture you having people. Who do you think you are, friggin’ Lord of the Fangs?” Amusement burst into her eyes, turning them a brilliant green. She slumped back against the closed pawn shop, the metal security door creaking under her shuddering weight.
“Great. I’m partnered with the feline version of Don Rickles.” He stared up at the stars. A lot of work needed to be done and he was losing the night sky. His gaze bounced to the snickering woman. “This is good. This is very helpful. Yeah, you stay here and laugh.” Muttering a curse, he shook his head and proceeded to the pub without her. Even if she didn’t last long, you’d think P.L.A.S.M.A would’ve given him someone more useful than Chuckles the Cat.
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