Nate Palmer's niece is missing. And he needs to find her. She's all he has in the world.
Nate's the surly teenager's sole guardian. Now, she's gone missing...and he doesn't know what to do.
There's only one person he can turn to--a private investigator by the name of Dexter Armstrong. One look at handsome Nate and shifter Dexter's more than happy to help.
Can he help Nate find Beth? And can Dexter ever reveal his werewolf form to his handsome client?
For the first time ever, Ceci's Thorntons chart-topping four-part "Saved by the Shifter" series is available in one collection.
Hot shifter alphas, family drama, and mystery awaits you inside...
Dexter Armstrong leaned back in his scuffed leather office chair and stared at the ceiling. There was a yellowing patch of damp on one of the ceiling tiles; it was getting worse every time he looked at it. By now, it had begun to take the shape of Florida, he mused.
He leaned back further and the chair squeaked and groaned under his weight. He considered straightening up but the chair collapsing underneath him might actually liven up his day.
The phone in his office hadn’t rung in weeks. He could deny it to himself all he wanted but he had to face the fact that nobody wanted his services. This town was too small to really need a private investigator on any regular basis. If any of the guys from his old pack could see him now, they would be tickled to see how pathetic he looked.
A shifter playing at being a detective? What the hell had he been thinking when came up with that idea?
Thankfully this place was a shithole; the rent was low enough that he could still pay it from his savings. The buzz of the fluorescent light overhead was comforting, its flicker less so.
A scent pricked his nostrils and he brought his gaze from the yellow blob of Florida to stare through the glass front door.
Outside a man, tall, handsome, with sandy brown hair and a green shirt that strained at the triceps was wandering up and down. He was looking around the strip mall, then took out a phone to read the screen, before turning to look into Dexter’s office.
Dexter righted himself as gracefully as he could in his creaking chair and attempted to look busy and professional as the man entered his small office.
He grabbed the loose papers on his desk and tidied them into a pile, pretending not to see the potential client.
The man walked right up to his desk. Up close, he smelled even better—like coffee and musk.
“Hi, um… Am I in the right place? I’m looking for Lone Wolf Investigations. I got this address from the internet.”
Out of his luscious lips, the name sounded lame and desperate. Dexter winced internally but looked up nonchalantly.
“That’s right. How can I help you, Mr.…?”
The man shifted uneasily on his feet and Dexter indicated to the chair in front of the desk.
“Palmer,” he said sitting down. “My name is Nate Palmer.”