Brawling Bear

Rachel reached the corner of the cement building and spotted the back entrance to the warehouse. She pulled up short, her muscles pulling taut as she studied what blocked their entrance inside.
A man, nothing more than a bulky shadow from this far away, stood beside the heavy metal door. He brought something to his lips and the lit end of a cigarette illuminated his face in a red glow. She didn’t recognize him but that didn’t mean anything. He could be a shifter. He could be the ringleader for all she knew, although probably not if he was on door duty.
She nodded at Trent and he gave a hand signal to their man on the roof. They waited. A second later, there was a small pop followed by a rush of air and the man at the door crumpled. Rachel grinned. Tranq darts were her favorite weapon. Not deadly enough to ruin her chances at the arrest or getting the info she needed from a perp but incapacitating all the same. Besides, shifters wouldn’t respond to their bullets like ordinary humans anyway. And shifter or no, Rachel detested the idea of killing. It wasn’t for her to decide, taking a life. Years of experience and training had helped her cope with that fear but she still felt it rise up anytime she was faced with the possibility of having to use lethal force. She’d never killed anyone before and she hoped she wouldn’t have to start tonight.
The moment the man hit the ground, Rachel and the others took off at a run.
With several extra pounds packed along her ample curves, she wasn’t the fastest. But then she didn’t have to be there first. She was lead. The others would clear the way for her. Trent and a couple others reached the door first and threw it open, guns aimed. Rachel raised her own weapon just as she reached the doorway being held open for her by one of her team.
She heard the roar and cheer of dozens of raised voices. The hum drowned out her team’s attempt to yell for everyone to stop moving. Rachel hurried forward, crouched, bent at the knees, gun aimed straight ahead. The roar of voices grew louder. This had to be it. The yells were deafening.
She rounded the bend and took in the scene.
Around her in every direction, men began to catch sight of the police spilling into the large room. Al at once, they began to stampede for the hallway at the far end of the space.
It was mayhem. Rachel’s team did their best to corral the spectators toward the far exit, leaving her path cleared and preventing her from getting trampled as they all panicked and raced to get out of the building. She didn’t care about the audience. She wanted the fighters. They would lead her toward the organizer.
Rachel waited for the crowd to thin and give her a clear line of sight. Grim satisfaction washed over her at what she saw.
In the center of the room was a makeshift boxing ring. A rectangular space created by dark cords stretched around barrels at each corner. In the center of the grimy ring were two men facing off. Their fight had clearly been going on for some time judging from the streaks of sweat and blood across the chest of the man facing Rachel. Despite the chaos of the spectators, the men glared only at each other.
Tension crackled in the air between them. The tension of their fury coated every square inch of space between her and them and Rachel knew without a doubt these men were both shifters. They clung to their human forms but barely. The very air stunk of animal. A shudder swept over her at the raw power clinging to them both.
“Stop right there,” Rachel yelled, her voice ringing out over the din of the men fleeing. She pointed her weapon, knowing full well the two brawlers weren’t going to just give in and obey her command. Not if they were shifters. Caught in the throes of a battle, she’d read enough to know they wouldn’t break away from the fight easily.
But at the sound of her voice, the man facing her faltered. He looked over and met her eyes. His cold stare made Rachel flinch. His sunken cheeks and shadowed eyes were set into a lean body with scars and blood covering his torso. He looked like death and the way he stared back at her for that split second send a shiver of dread up her spine. Like he intended to live up to every inch of her initial impression of him.
The second man stood with his back to her and never bothered turning. Not even when the first guy stopped mid-swing to stare at her, eyes narrowing at her raised weapon. Instead, his broad back, thick with muscles, rippled as his shoulder shifted and he raised a fist. He swung out, his brown hair shaking with the effort and sending a spray of sweat as his mop of waves swung with the effort behind his movement. With a roar, his closed fist made contact with the other man’s jaw.
Rachel heard a resounding crack.
The smaller man went down into a crumpled heap, his eyes rolling backward as he fell. Unconscious before he hit the ground.
Rachel gasped, the small noise now echoing off the empty walls. She realized most of the spectators had disappeared into the bowels of the warehouse. Far off, she could hear the raised voices of men from her team as they cuffed and interrogated those in the crowd that hadn’t gotten away. Behind her, Trent and three others had lined up to create a wall, blocking the exit in case either of the two fighters tried to escape. Their weapons were pointed at the fighter still on his feet.
Rachel stared at him and found herself look directly into the same gray eyes from her dreams. Rachel’s jaw fell open.
She had suspected shifters all along but this… this she hadn’t expected. Or maybe she had and that’s what kept her obsessed with getting to the bottom of the fight club.
Grayden Larchmont himself stood staring at her from the center of the dirty makeshift ring.
Sexy, brawling Grayden Larchmont of the Bad News Bears. Shirtless, bloodied, and panting in the center of the ring, his eyes narrowed as he finally focused on her and recognition dawned. Rachel took a steadying breath, shaking off the heady rush of attraction as she took in his broad shoulders and bare chest that tapered into a trim V-shaped waist.