Home > Some Were In Time (Shift Happens #2)

Some Were In Time (Shift Happens #2)
Author: Robyn Peterman


"Just walk quietly and no one will get hurt."

A menacing dude with a long black trench coat, questionable breath and sunglasses growled out the order.

"Oh my god, could you be dressed more cliché?" I laughed and rolled my eyes. "You do realize I've torn the head off a Dragon?"

I hissed as I got shoved along a side corridor in the airport. This was not how my Jamaican vacation was supposed to end—not at all.

"You do realize if you don't shut up and move, you will cause many innocent human deaths," he ground out as he grabbed my arm in a grip I was fairly sure had snapped a bone. Thankfully we were out of the main part of the airport and there were no innocent humans around.

There were two goons on me but there were six on my mate, Hank.

"Smith, you son of a bitch, I don't care how many men you have on me. You touch her again and all of you will die violently in less than one minute," Hank threatened through clenched teeth.

Hank's fangs descended as he got angrier at our tormentors, which made him look hotter than hell, and his deadly Alpha magic swirled around him causing the goons to quickly back away.

"You know this douche?" I turned and slammed my knee viciously into Smith's man jewels, sending him to the floor in a blubbering heap.

"Nice shot," Hank said, congratulating me. I ducked a left hook from my other guard dog right before I connected the palm of my hand to his nose, jamming it up into his forehead.

"Thank you," I said with a smirk and a curtsey. "Seriously, who are these losers?"

I knew they were Werewolves, but I'd never had the displeasure of meeting them until now.

"They're colleagues of ours," Hank said with disgust as he stepped on Smith's head and aligned himself with me.

It was now two against six as Smith and his buddy were writhing on the floor in agony.

"These are WTF agents?" I asked, shocked at how easy it had been to take them down.

Both Hank and I were undercover agents for our national governing Council, unfortunately named WTF—Werewolf Treaty Federation. I had a difficult time buying that these idiots were too.

Hank nodded curtly and the six still standing began silently glancing at each other, trying to figure out what to do next. Clearly the now soprano Smith had been in charge.

"I'd suggest you tell us what you want," Hank said in a voice the made the hair on my neck stand on end. "You have five seconds or I'll let the love of my life have at your nuts. When she's done I'll rip your heads clean off of your bodies."

God, my man was sexy.

"Angela wants to talk to you," one stuttered as they all kept their distance from me and my castrating knee.

"Well, asking would have been a hell of a lot easier," I muttered with an eye roll.

"She's here?" Hank asked.

"Down the hall, first door on the right," another answered.

"We can make our own way there—alone," Hank stated firmly. "You will remove Frick and Frack and if I see you again, it will be the last time anyone sees you. Ever."

"And he means that, buttheads," I informed them as I stuck out my tongue.

"Not really helping here, Essie," Hank said.

"Whoops, sorry."

"We clear?" Hank inquired of the remaining agents.

They nodded and quickly hauled Smith and the other one back down the hallway.

"Angela's got some splainin' to do," I said as I grabbed Hank's hand and marched down the hall.


The interior of the room in the bowels of the airport left much to be desired—as did the company.

"Essie, you and Hank have five days left before you will report to Chicago," Angela told us grimly as she yanked at the hair on the right side of her head. "What happened to your escorts?"

My boss wasn't extremely pulled together on a good day, but today she was a freakin' mess. She sported huge circles under her eyes and her short, cropped hair was standing straight up on her head. Her suit was a wrinkled disaster and if I was correct, the rusty blob on the lapel proved she'd just eaten a chilidog without a napkin.

"Well, let's see," I replied with sarcastic glee. "One will have to have his nose surgically removed from his hairline. And the other, I believe his name is Smith, will never be able to father children due to the painful fact that his man bits are now embedded in his esophagus. Hank scared the rest of your pathetic henchmen off. And just so you know, Angela, I'm still on my vacation before I go back to work and potentially get torn to bits by some Dragons. Don't you think this is overkill?"

"I hate puns," she grumbled.

"Not intended," I shot back as I stared at her hard. "What gives? Why in the hell are you skulking around the Atlanta airport sending inept gofers to rough us up? You ever heard of email or a phone?"

I was surprised at how quiet Hank was considering the last time we'd met with Angela he told her how it was going to be—not the other way around. His narrowed gaze hadn't left my boss since we'd entered the room.

Granny and my BFF Dwayne were getting the car so they were missing out on the fun, but Angela never missed a beat. She clearly only wanted to talk with Hank and me.

"Phones can be bugged and email can be hacked," she stated wearily.

"True, but you haven't said anything worth knowing," Hank shot back softly through gritted teeth.

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