Page 17 of Someone Else's Wolf

So, why not take him up on the offer now, when he wanted to help me? If nothing else, it would mean more choices in the future. And, well, if we were going to last, then even long distance (if it was necessary) wouldn't stop it. I believed in true love, though I'd never felt it myself. And I believed Peter wouldn't see long distance as the end of the world.

If nothing else, it would be easier to stay in the closet if I wasn't fucking the guy I saw at work every day — the guy who still gave me intense looks and acted like he didn't want to walk away from me. I went over to see him all the time when we were off work, but it was still barely enough.

Right now, we were flying under the radar because he'd always been a bit intense about me. And he was a kind, touchy-feely, emotionally open guy. He was so big and strong and awkwardly nerdy, I guessed he didn't strike anyone as gay. I hadn't thought he was, either, to be honest. So far, anything he did that seemed a little different was written off as a wolf thing. And I could be circumspect.

But really, could that last forever? I was bettingno.

So, one night, after we'd had some really mind-blowing sex, I asked him to hook me up with the Shifters and Partners people and see if I really could qualify.

He kissed me on the mouth, said I wouldn't regret it and that they'd know a good thing when they saw it.

And that was that. I'd taken the first step into a new life — one I hoped I would actually want when I got there.

It seemed a little too easy — and a little too good to be true.

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Let the record show, this is the second interview for Officer Blairgh."

"Blairgh." I corrected the pronunciation automatically (BlairnotBlargh, despite the extra letters), and then inwardly grimaced, wishing I hadn't.

Lt. Berkley, the man from the Shifters and Partners organization stared at me for a long moment over his glasses. "Blairgh," he repeated after me, then adjusted his glasses again and looked down at the papers he was shuffling. "The second interview. You've been recommended by a graduate of the program. Are you interested in pursuing certification in the program and partnering with a shifter who chooses you?"

"Yes." I'd thought about it more, and really, I couldn't think of a reason to change my mind. It was a good job; it sounded like a great gig, if I could get it. I wanted to try. Not just because of the pay, or because it would mark me out as something special. But...well, just because.

It was difficult to define my reasons to myself, because I hadn't let myself care for a long time. It hadn't mattered why I wanted to make the grade when I couldn't. Now, I was still trying not to get my hopes up too much. Just because the clearly biased Peter thought I could do the job didn't mean anyone else would think that — or that any shifter would choose me, even if I could manage to make the grade.

Lt. Berkley made a soft sound like a cluck, as if he disapproved already, and marked something off on his papers. Was that a check mark, or was he adding notes to the damning phrases already in my file?

I leaned forward, curious, making the chair creak.

Our meeting was at the precinct. I hadn't expected that, especially so soon after telling Peter I wanted to try. But here it was, less than a week after his enthusiastic phone call on my behalf, and someone was here, at the precinct, interviewing me in person.

There'd been no advance warning. Perhaps that was part of the test; I didn't know. The captain had called me into his office this morning, and I'd wondered what I'd done wrong.

He'd just said, "So, you're trying again, huh?" and then explained that someone was coming in today to re-screen me. He hadn't seemed annoyed about it, and he didn't go out of his way to tell me I was an idiot. He'd just raised a brow and added, "I hope this isn't about trying to take Sue's wolf. There's been scuttlebutt."

"The scuttlebutt is wrong, sir." I didn't want to take Sue's place, and I believed Peter when he said he didn't want to replace her. But it did look bad, didn't it?

And, to be honest, if I were Peter, I'd want to replace her. Sue was too fierce. But then again, I sure wouldn't want to replace her with someone I was sleeping with, either. On-the-job trust mixed with an off-the-job relationship? Yeah, that could go downhill pretty damned quick. If something went wrong in either part of your life, your whole life could become complicated fast — perhaps even a living hell till you figured out how to deal with it. It sounded like a nightmare — and far too much commitment for a guy who'd said I wasn't his mate or anything like it.

"If I have a chance, I'd like to have my own partner."

The captain snorted. "We'll see what the budget says here. If you pass and get somebody, you can always hire on at Qualestown."

Qualestown was the nearest precinct to the west — smaller, and with a mostly friendly rivalry towards us. It wouldn't be too difficult of an adjustment, assuming I could get past some initial teasing. It was more rural. The usual jokes about stopping speeding tractors applied.

"They've borrowed Honeycutt and Worth twice already. They'd take you in a New York minute." He'd studied me for a moment longer, then nodded once. "Take your time on the interview. Don't rush."

Now, here I sat, across from the man who could determine my fate as a job-worthy prospect, or not, as the case may be. Did I merit a shot working with a shifter? Did I have a chance of impressing one, if I passed this screening? It was a long shot. Despite Peter's praises, I knew the likelihood of my impressing anyone else was small.

He liked me because I was fun to have sex with. But, to be fair, even that had done wonders for my feelings of self-worth. Being appreciated by a guy like Peter was pretty damned fulfilling.

The man from the S&P asked me a few questions, but they seemed rather unimportant things to focus on: family, being willing to move for work, how many times I'd fired my weapon on the job (none so far, thankfully), my arrest rate, and a few other statistics like job injury and how quickly I'd risen through the ranks. None of my stats were that great, aside from having never fired my weapon and having only two small injuries on the job, so I wished he'd focus on something else, like my sparkling personality.

Oh, wait. Maybe not that, either.

"Hm. Well, we won't know for certain that you have the right stuff without some actual training," said my interviewer. "But we can scratch out this poor score for drive and ambition — that's a non-starter. We don't use that score anymore. Everything else falls within reasonable limits. I see nothing to indicate you're a risk, and with an added recommendation from a recent graduate, you qualify." He met my gaze and reached across the table, his smile thin. "Congratulations, and welcome to the program. You'll need to pack your bags and hand over any current cases to someone else."