Page 2 of Softer Than Stone (Fangs & Felons)

WARU

The lion was a distraction I never saw coming, taking my level of frustration to all new heights.

My staff was feeling it, so was my oversensitive cock from me spending too many hours over the past week taking myself in hand, thinking far too explicitly about the giant, pain-in-the-arse lion who had somehow managed to needle his way under my skin.

It wasn’t even like he was under my feet—staying true to his promise to keep out of my way. And since I was constantly on the move and so busy that the exhaustion seeping into my bones threatened to make me unravel, we hadn’t even stood around and chitchatted.

As if I’d ever chitchat. Even if I had the time, I had no desire to sit back and shoot the shit with anyone. Especially not an SICB agent who I’d been sharing the same space with every moment the restaurant doors were open.

Between running Kurranba and dragging my feet to let go of the reins so my new manager could step up and lighten my load—which was what I was paying them for—the only spare time I had was dedicated to my family.

Though, if you heard them tell it, they’d be more than happy for me to not spend every waking hour visiting them. Just last month, Yayi told me in no uncertain terms to “stop being such a miserable gungie ” and to “go hook a man and get laid.”

That was my yayi for you. She’d been like it with all her grandkids, so I had no idea why, being the youngest, I thought I would be immune to her interference. At least she wasn’t trying to marry me off.

Gungie. I held back my snort thinking of the term. It was her go-to word for someone acting like a clueless idiot. I’d heard it muttered about some politician on the news one day and filed it away as classic Yayi. It was affectionate but sharp—a lot like her.

Still, her words echoed in my head as I slammed the oven shut and barked orders to the junior chef. The staff were dragging today, and I couldn’t blame them. My mood was fouling the air in Kurranba like a storm cloud refusing to break.

And then there was the lion, Agent Chris Flint.

Sure, he was a big guy—which was one giant tick. He also seemed competent, which may or may not have got me hard. Okay, and the not-so-subtle glances he kept casting my way were kind of a turn-on. But what really messed with my head was the Chokito bar I’d found on my desk this morning.

It wasn’t there last night. No one on staff would have thought to leave me a chocolate bar—I was too much of a grumpy arsehole for that kind of thoughtfulness—let alone one I’d been grumbling about not having had in ages. I didn’t need to be a detective to figure out who’d left it.

Chris.

The idea that the massive lion shifter had not only overheard me but gone out of his way to track one down? It had my stomach flipping like I’d eaten raw dough. And it wasn’t the bad kind of flip either.

Admittedly, all of those reasons told me I was lying to myself. I wasn’t confused about my pull to him. He ticked a lot more than one box.

Perhaps I shouldn’t think it. We were both on the job, and I could feel something dangerous brewing just below the surface in Kurranba.

Brax’s presence—the guy who’d somehow found his way into my restaurant and was the reason why Chris was here in the first place—had tainted the place with unease, and I hated the way my staff had picked up on it, tiptoeing around like they were waiting for something to explode.

Why the hell had I said it was okay for Chris to be here again?

My gaze flicked towards the side room where I knew he was stationed. Now wasn’t the time to wonder if a man his size—all thick muscle and stunning golden eyes—would be keen to sit on my dick and let me fuck him into oblivion.

But it wasn’t like I was not wondering either.

His muscles bunched, making me pause. Lips moving, he was clearly talking to whoever was at the other end of his earpiece.

My panther hearing was phenomenal at the best of times, but the first thing the SICB had done when they took over the small room that gave almost a panoramic view of the restaurant floor was soundproof the space.

Hell, put a blind on the window in the door, and I was kinda grateful that they said I could keep the new additions. There were a lot of possibilities for what I could do with a soundproof room, especially if Chris stuck around.

I nodded at something Kira was saying, but my gaze remained firmly fixed on Chris. His head had snapped up, eyes tracking whatever was happening on the restaurant floor. Following his gaze, I peered out of the large hatch separating the kitchen from the restaurant area.

A woman entered. Human. Short and petite, she looked wary, darting furtive glances around her. At her side was a tiger shifter. My nose twitched at his scent, and unease settled in my gut. The guy was big, and while I pulled off the grump card pretty impressively, he just looked mean.

They walked towards Brax, the man Chris had told me the SICB were tracking. Brax’s focus stuck to the woman, something close to distaste crossing his expression. A cruel smile appeared when he gestured to the seat before him, which she clumsily took.

Discomfort pierced my chest. This was all wrong. Everything about it.

The woman didn’t want to be here. I didn’t need to be a genius to figure that out. So why the hell was Chris letting this meeting take place?

“Chef.”

I jerked my head towards Kira. Worry furrowed their brow. Shit. Just how long had they been trying to get my attention? “Yeah?” I worked hard on hiding my concern for what was happening with the meeting taking place, schooling my features in the usual “fuck off” setting.

Funnily enough, my go-to frown settled Kira immediately. Their worry disappeared.

“What’s up?” I asked, crossing my arms and leaning slightly against the counter, my attention torn between the kitchen and what was bubbling in the restaurant.

“Sorry, chef,” Kira said, their voice a touch hesitant. “It’s just… I’m not sure the sauce for the barramundi is reducing properly. Should I add more stock, or…?”

I exhaled, dragging myself back into focus. “No stock. It’s already on the thin side. Kick the heat up a touch and keep an eye on it. If it doesn’t start behaving in two minutes, let me know.”

Kira nodded, relief clear in their expression, and moved back to their station. I turned to the hatch and peered through again, catching a glimpse of the tiger shifter standing behind the woman, meaty hands gripping the back of her chair. His body language screamed intimidation.

Chris was still watching intently. His posture was a study in tension—bunched shoulders, clenched jaw, and hands resting too deliberately on the tabletop in the small soundproof room. When his gaze flicked towards me for half a second, I felt it like a spark down my spine.

But I didn’t have time for sparks, not now. There was an hour left of service, and my team needed my focus.

“Back to it, Waru,” I muttered to myself, turning my attention to the kitchen. You can brood later.

I walked the line, checking dishes, correcting plating, barking orders to keep everyone on track. Service was nearly over, and I could see the exhaustion setting in on my staff. They needed to push through just a little longer, and it was my job to get them there.

“Barramundi’s ready, chef!” Kira called out, their voice carrying above the din.

“Run it!” I called back, giving the plate a cursory glance as it went by.

Still, my thoughts kept drifting. Something about that woman in the dining room—the way her shoulders hunched and her eyes darted like a rabbit under threat—set my instincts on edge.

Glancing back through the hatch, I saw Chris again. He wasn’t just tense anymore. His gold eyes had sharpened, his focus zeroing in on Brax and the tiger shifter. His lips moved rapidly, clearly giving orders to whoever was on the other end of his earpiece.

And then, all at once, he moved.

His chair scraped back violently, and he lunged for the door, his expression a mix of shock and barely leashed fury.

My gut twisted. Something had gone very, very wrong.

Waru, you’ve got this . I nodded to Kira as they sent out another dish, trying to stay focussed. Service is almost done. Keep your head in the kitchen.

But my eyes were already locked on Chris as he burst out of the soundproof room, moving with a predatory grace that sent shivers down my spine. His gaze swept the restaurant floor, and when it landed on me, I froze.

“Get everyone out of the kitchen,” he said, his voice low and sharp as he crossed to the hatch covered by thick glass to ensure what happened in the kitchen stayed in the kitchen.

“What the fuck is going on?” I demanded, my own instincts flaring to life.

“Trouble,” he said. “Big trouble. And it’s coming this way.”