Agent colton, p.1
Agent Colton, page 1
AGENT COLTON
SUPERNATURAL PARANORMAL INVESTIGATION AND RESPONSE TEAM (SPIRIT)
SHIFTED HEARTS
BOOK SEVEN
GODIVA GLENN
LUNAR MISCHIEF PRESS, L.L.C.
Agent Colton
Copyright © 2024 by Godiva Glenn
Cover by Euphoric Designs
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Godiva Glenn
CHAPTER 1
COLTON
A breeze ran through the trees and picked up fragrances from the ground and inhabitants of Kelsy park. It would have been a refreshing breeze if someone would wash their damn dog once in a while.
Colton’s eyes narrowed on a shaggy Bernese Mountain Dog. Dust dulled its black coat, and its white chest was yellow with mud. Its gait suggested a purebred, which baffled Colton. What sort of assholes bought a dog for a thousand bucks then didn’t take care of it?
Assholes who never walked their own dog, that’s who. Every day that poor bastard came to the park with one of three rotating dog walkers—young ladies in their mid-twenties who’d sit down and let the filthy dog run around for fifteen minutes at a time.
He wanted to meet the owner. More succinctly, he wanted to punch the owner, take the dog, bathe it, and give it a loving home. Not a home with him, of course. The place he rested his head could never be called a home, and certainly not “loving” by any sick and twisted stretch of the imagination.
A pigeon pecked his hand and glared at him. He shooed it away with a curse. He’d lost his focus, but that’s what happened when he had to witness doggo abuse. Maybe if today’s watch gave him no new information, he’d follow the dog home and check out its digs.
The pigeon returned and cooed at him. He dug in his pocket for a sunflower seed, which he flicked directly between the bird’s glassy, all-knowing eyes. Its wings fluttered in a distinct “fuck you too” manner, but it took the seed and left.
The click of high heels coming down the sidewalk made him lean over and peer to see who approached. He’d been sitting on the ground in an alley close to the park, and this meant he occasionally got tossed a coin or a dollar. He wasn’t a vagrant, but he didn’t turn down donations. And if a rich woman walked by, he may hold out his coffee cup. To better sell his ruse, of course.
The woman coming wasn’t a no-name rich woman, however. His eyes traveled over her, enjoying the view. Petal pink pumps, smooth brown legs for days, a khaki skirt that clung to her hips for dear life—fuck, to be that skirt. The outfit was topped off with a crisp white button-front shirt with flowy sleeves. Her look seemed to be a cross between “I’m a fun girl” and “I’ve got to put in a few hours at the office.”
Her gaze darted his way for a moment, but she didn’t stop. Likely, she didn’t recognize him, and that was for the best. He didn’t want any attention today.
She clacked by, and his focus abandoned the poor dog and now zeroed in on her round ass leaving him behind. Good lords but that ass. He growled under his breath. That was his woman, she just didn’t know it yet. Hell, at this rate, he’d never figure out a way to tell her.
More prominent issues existed at the moment, however. Issue number one, the sleezebags he’d been watching had stood up to greet someone. Issue number two, that someone was Ms. Reynolds, aka Miss Look At My Tight Skirt.
This couldn’t bode well.
The meeting was brief, but by the time it ended, Colton was ready to storm the park. Only the years of discipline drilled into him by the Marines kept him steady. Logic and patterns told him they wouldn’t grab her here and now. They’d pick her up later. She was safe for the moment.
Which meant he’d have to grab her first, but he couldn’t do that without contacting his handler. The sky was clear. The ground was clear. No trash birds in sight. Fuck.
He descended further down the alley, scaled the chain link fence at the back, dropped down onto the other side, and jogged to the next street. He knew what she drove, and deduction told him which parking lot she’d used today.
He found her white hatchback easily and then crouched by the back to wait. After a few minutes he heard the familiar click of heels.
He popped up. She screamed.
He swept her hand away, diverting the spray of mace she’d instinctively sent his way. Coughing, he slapped at the tube. “Wait,” he barked. “You don’t need that!”
She stepped back. “You!”
He rubbed his eyes against his sleeve. Even if the spray had missed, the wind had kicked up some of the irritating mist. “Damn it, woman!”
She sneezed and circled to the front of her car, fanning herself.
“Don’t touch your face,” he warned. “If any got on your hands, you’ll be sorry.”
“I’ve never used it before,” she said. “Of course, it didn’t go as planned!”
He kicked the used container away. “Fuck. I didn’t realize you carried that. I mean, that’s awesome reflexes, and it’s smart to be prepared, but I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Sorry,” she groaned. “Carmen gave it to me.”
“Of course, she did.”
She took a deep breath and straightened; her hand flattened against her heart as she looked him down. “Why are you following me?”
“Ms. Reynolds—”
“Sybrina.”
“Are we on a first name basis?”
Her head tilted. “You are the weirdest, creepiest—Look, it’s a habit. I can’t stand being called ‘mizz’ anything.”
“Fine. Sybrina. You’re in danger.”
She narrowed her deep brown eyes. “Come a step closer and I’ll scream. I sang in my church choir so don’t make me do it!”
“Not from me,” he hissed. “If you were in danger from me, I’d have acted already. I already got rid of your silly self-defense spray.”
“Malcolm, isn’t it? I will attract a fucking block party up in here if you don’t explain yourself in the next minute.”
“The people you met today are going to take you.” It didn’t get any simpler than that, right?
Doubt wrinkled her brow, and she crossed her arms. “Why would my co-worker and his friend ‘take me’ and why were you watching me in the first place?”
He leaned against her car. “Not you. I was watching them. Which one’s your co-worker?”
“Why would anyone take me?”
“Because it’s what they do. They have a pattern.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve got to go. This was my lunch break, and now I’m going over. If I’m late back, I’ll hear about it for a month.”
“Don’t go home tonight. Go stay with a friend. I’ll contact you.”
“Excuse me? I don’t know you from Adam, so I won’t be taking orders. This conversation only continued this far because Carmen swears you aren’t the hooker-banging, booze-guzzling, pigeon-shit-covered private dick that you present yourself to be.”
No, I’m a unicorn. His jaw clenched as he swallowed his first retort. His second made it free. “I’m not a private detective. I’m a headhunter. Which means I know a thing or fifty about finding people and giving them to other people. Your co-worker just set you up. Give me the rest of the day to arrange some things, and I’m going to keep you safe, okay? Whatever you do, don’t tell them anything, and I mean anything. If anyone asks, you don’t know me.”
“I don’t know you,” she said frustrated. “But I know you need to get off my car. I’m leaving.”
“Fine.” He held up his hands and backed away. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Whatever,” she muttered as she got in her vehicle and slammed the door.
“And the name’s not Malcolm,” he told the rolled-up window. “It’s Marcus.”
She drove away, leaving him standing in the middle of the lot feeling a bit defeated and a lot wound up.
It’s Colton, actually. Agent Colton.
CHAPTER 2
SYBRINA
Sybrina arrived late from lunch, thanks to the dirty idiot she had to mace. Marcus. He was begging for a kick in the balls.
“Hope it was worth it,” Lisa said under her breath as Sybrina slid into her chair. “Boss is in a foul mood already.”
Sybrina tousled her curls and peered around to Linda’s cubicle. “I ducked through the employee lounge to avoid passing his desk.”
“He always knows.” Linda rolled her chair back a few inches to see Sybrina. “You-know-who is probably tattling on you as we speak.”
They both tilted their heads to look at a diagonal toward Ricky’s desk. Sure enoug
“Damn,” Sybrina groaned. “It wasn’t even my fault. I would’ve been back on time, but I had to deal with…” An idea hit her. “It’ll be fine.”
The light on her phone blinked, and a second later it began to ring. Since it was her boss, Mitch, she skipped her usual chipper tone.
“Yes?” she asked.
“Come to my office please.” Click.
Sybrina smoothed her hands down her skirt and grabbed her keys. She gave Linda a look then walked back through the jungle—what they called the maze of cubicles—and to Mitch’s office. She kept her expression calm.
“You’ve been working here long enough to know exactly how I feel about tardiness,” Mitch said. His hands tucked behind his sandy-blonde head, he leaned back in his leather executive chair.
She nodded. “It won’t happen again. It was a crazy circumstance.”
“Do tell.” His green eyes seemed ready to deny the craziness, but she’d show him.
“A man followed me. When he popped up behind my car, I thought he was going to mug me.” She held up her keychain and indicated the break-away clip where her defense spray had previously hung. Thanks to it being bright pink and larger than her fist, her co-workers had noticed and commented on it in the past. “I tried to spray him with my mace, but he got it away from me.”
Mitch stood. “Are you okay?”
“It turned out to be some crazy guy—maybe he’s homeless, I don’t know, but he started spouting nonsense… he kept me there and wouldn’t let me go until he finished yammering.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll be okay, but I’m still a bit shaken up.”
He’d come from behind his desk and now rested a hand on her shoulder. “Would you like to go home early? Or do you need me to call the police?”
“I’m alright to stay. It would really help me to just get back to something normal. Bury myself in my work so I can forget it all.”
He studied her. “Okay, but before you leave tonight, come see me. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“It’s not necessary—”
“If the man is following you, it’s not worth risking. I’ll walk you out.”
She nodded and gave him a weak smile. Guilt gnawed at her, but it faded when she considered all of the shit Mitch had put her through before. Sure, she was taking advantage of him in this moment, but he was far from a saint.
“Thank you.” She ducked out and returned to her desk. She almost checked her shoulder to see if his touch had left any slime behind.
“You still employed?” Linda asked.
“For the moment.” Sybrina shook her mouse to wake the computer while her eyes skimmed the client list tacked to her wall. “Who knows what tomorrow brings?”
By the time five o’clock rolled around, Sybrina had mostly pushed aside the oddity that was her run-in with Marcus. Though she’d easily passed his words off as psychotic babble, the warning didn’t stay dismissed forever. The co-worker she’d met with, Goldman, worked out of an office a hallway down from the jungle as a facilities manager. They didn’t see each other at work, and she didn’t know him all that well.
They’d chatted at company functions, but they’d met each other from being members of the local twenty-something entrepreneurs society. She’d joined it recently to get out of the house more since her best friend had moved away. Carmen, her besty and near-sister since middle school now resided on another planet, of all places, living it up with her three husbands.
She was deliriously happy, and Sybrina refused to wallow in pity about being left alone. Life was meant to be lived. That meant meeting people and trying new things.
Goldman was one of those new things. Not dating material, but decent acquaintance material. She wouldn’t call them friends, but time would tell. There was a lot of mystery with him. He was the type that spoke endlessly about work but clammed up if asked his favorite movie.
Come to think of it, the last decent conversation they’d had together was about the uses of chickpea juice. Somehow that had led to him asking if she’d be interested in meeting his friend, Butler, who he swore would be a “perfect match” for Sybrina.
She wasn’t looking for a perfect match at the moment, and if she ever decided to try, she knew who to ask and it wasn’t Goldman.
She’d agreed to the meeting because she’d spotted Butler’s picture before and the guy was definitely swimsuit model material—worth meeting, at the very least.
Sadly, she’d owned swimsuits more complex than Butler’s personality. Their meet and greet had fallen short of expectations.
That didn’t mean he and Goldman were kidnappers. No, the reason Sybrina kept succumbing to suspicion wasn’t Goldman’s private life or Butler’s missing brain. It was the fact that Carmen had been kidnapped earlier in the year. Marcus had apparently tried to find her and failed. Yet he had somehow tracked Sybrina down despite having never met her.
He was an anomaly. A snoopy one.
She packed up her things and swung by Mitch’s office, but his light was off. She made her way to the front desk. The receptionist, January, was organizing her ink pens when Sybrina tapped on the wraparound desk.
“Hey. Did Mitch leave already?”
“Oh, he left hours ago.”
Of course, he had. So went his good deed. “Thanks. Have a good night.”
Sybrina pulled on her light jacket and headed out. Their office was on the fifth floor of the downtown skyrise, but thankfully the owner of the company paid for each employee to have parking in the garage next door.
That garage had a bank over it, and bank meant security. Thinking about it made her feel safer. Her hand slipped into her jacket pocket and touched the lucky trinket she kept there, a piece of rose quartz in the shape of a heart. The smooth stone calmed her nerves.
She made it to her car in one piece, drove safely home, and was in the middle of telling herself that Marcus was full of shit when she opened her front door.
The room smelled of warm vanilla and candied apples. It was her favorite scented candle, which was on a warmer that clicked on when the door was opened after five pm on the weekdays. The electric timer was tied to her security system and had been programmed by a software engineer she’d dated last year. It always turned on the moment she got home and turned off at nine-thirty when she went to bed. Day after day, without fail.
But it was already on tonight.
The usually welcoming scent became one of warning. She recalled how easily Marcus had disarmed her, and fear froze her on the spot. If anyone was waiting for her, could she fight them off? She’d try.
She glanced at the security alarm beside the door. It should have been beeping at her to enter her code, but it was disabled. The screen was completely blank. The device was off. She pushed the panic button anyhow, and hands landed on her before she lifted her finger from the screen.
The door slammed behind her. She screamed and lashed out at her hidden attacker, but they immediately pinned her arms behind her back. She stomped around, aiming for their feet, but she missed somehow. Her attacker was a shadow and a brick wall rolled into one.
The window shattered next to them, and the sound of breaking glass gave Sybrina hope. Had a neighbor seen and rushed in to save her? The arms holding her loosened, giving her a flicker of hope before they threw her against the far wall.
Her head spun, and she fell when she tried to get up. She braced herself against the wall but the moment she pressed her hand to the plaster, a sharp pain sprung from her shoulder.
The din of rattling furniture, breaking trinkets, and fists hitting flesh told her what she couldn’t see in the dark—someone was fighting someone—but that didn’t entirely explain the situation.
