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you’ve got one of a few choices. You either belong to someone as a bottom, you’re part of a gang who’ll keep you safe, or you’re the baddest asshole around.”
    “And how do you get to be that last option?”
    “You walk up to the meanest bastard in the place and make him cry for his momma.”
    “And who would that be?”
    “You’re talking to him, puppy.”
    Figured. Shit. As Stu settled onto the stiff foam mattress with its scratchy wool blanket, he really had to wonder what the hell kind of mess he’d volunteered for. What had sounded like a grand adventure and a chance to spend time with his cougar and impress her was starting to resemble a clusterfuck of mega proportions.
    It galled Stu to even consider playing the part of simpering or cowed prison girlfriend to anyone, but even he recognized that as big and tough as he was, he doubted he could take his new roommate. Older, thicker, and definitely meaner, yup that about summed up his new friend and Stu didn’t doubt for a moment the guy could wipe the floor with him.
    But not before I got a few good licks in.
    However, he wasn’t here to prove himself big man in prison, and he wouldn’t be giving his ass to anyone in reality. Surely he could play the part. Get the job done. Help catch the killer if they lurked in this prison and have Patricia look at him with something other than exasperation.
    He clung to that hope as the lights went out—and clenched his ass cheeks tight.

Chapter Five
    After ditching the wolf at the station, Patricia didn’t see Stu again for three whole days. Three days she spent thinking about him, much to her annoyance.
    Why did he attract her? It couldn’t be the mate bond. She refused to believe that. So what was it? Surely not lust? For one thing, the guy was young, much too young. And two, she didn’t like guys with wild mops of hair. She preferred a military-style cut. A groomed man. Heck, if she were to get picky, she’d admit she tended to gravitate to men in uniform.
    Stu was nothing of the sort. A slob who lived with his parents and who spoke in ribald jests, whose family was borderline psychotic, who … wouldn’t leave her thoughts no matter how hard she tried.
    Sigh.
    When she began her shift at the prison, she fought not to rush to his cell to check on him. She wouldn’t be that girl. I am a grown woman. I will act like one! Stating that to herself and feeling it, though, were two different things. She couldn’t stop the tiny thrill of anticipation as she wandered the hall that would take her past his cell. Couldn’t stop the heat pooling between her thighs, the way her heart beat faster, how she stumbled to a halt when she reached the cell and met a dark-eyed gaze. The fixed stare of a predator. The flare of awareness. A tingle multiplied by two when Stu came to stand beside the man she’d previously only known via reports. A man that her cougar screamed with almost maniacal glee was also her mate.
    No way.
    Not two.
    Two shifters.
    Two mates.
    Not bloody possible.
    Not freakn’ happening.
    Pissed, she dragged her baton more harshly than she meant across the bars, rapping their knuckles. Stu grimaced and removed his hands. The other shifter just stood there. Ricky, a nickname for a boy, not the tougher than nails man standing before her. His lip curled and his eyes shone with challenge, daring her to hit him again.
    “What you looking at?” she snarled, not even attempting to mask her displeasure at her cat’s insistence that the two men in the cell belonged to them.
    Ricky emitted a rumbling sound that sent shivers dancing over her skin. “Look at what the gods gifted me with today. A hot cougar. Me-fucking-ow. Wanna scratch me with your claws, bebé ?”
    A sneer twisted her mouth. “You wish.” She lied. Despite having just met him, she did want to scratch and bite and … do utterly naughty things with him. With his tanned skin, a smooth expanse of temptation on display, given he wore his jumpsuit