The Lying, the Witch, and the Werewolf (Down & Dirty Supernatural Cleaning Services Book 4) by Kate Quinn (uplifting books for women .txt) 📗

the bed, nosing at my hands in search of a treat. Dalmanthers are the unfortunate outcome of a panther shifter having an experimental night with a Dalmatian. They’re part cat, part dog, wildly intelligent, and unfortunately known for tearing the faces off of their owners.

Luckily, I still have my face—and Shit’s undying affection.

Unluckily, Dalmanthers answer to the first loud sound they hear from their new owner, which in my case was the swear word I shouted after the puppy Nico gifted me jumped out of his crate and lunged at me.

Darron follows shortly behind Shit, wiping perspiration from his brow. “I tried to keep up with him,” he says, tossing a chewed chain onto my bed. “But that dog is strong as a bull and runs like a cheetah.”

“Panther,” I correct him, eyeing Shit as he noses around my blankets, having picked up the scent of the Thunderstick. I shove it deeper under the quilt. If Darron spots this gigantic vibrator, I’ll never hear the end of it.

“Thanks for walking Shit,” I say, inspecting the chewed chain. “Guess we need another lead for him?”

“Or a taser?” Shauna suggests, then suddenly lights up. “That would be a great accessory for you in the sex cult. It can totally be your kink. You can be like—you want to tap, you get the zap.”

“Or, to get in my trap, you’ll have to zap,” Darron supplies. “What sex cult is Paige joining, anyway? And” —he turns to me—“great choice. This is what you need, honey. Really clean those cobwebs from your cooch.”

Behind him, Shauna is still going. “What about, to spread my flaps—”

“Enough!” I yell, and Shit jumps to attention, a low growl vibrating in his throat. I put my hand on his back to calm him, but his bristles only go down slightly.

“First,” I tell Darron, pointing at him. “I’m not joining any sex cult. I’m going undercover at the Together We Come compound for a work-related matter.”

“Did they hire you to clean?” Darron jumps up and down. “Paige, this is great news! You’ll be disinfecting every day! We can buy a new TV!” He high-fives Shauna. “And a choke-chain!” He offers a palm to Shit, who glances at me, notices my scowl, and doesn’t reciprocate.

“No, they didn’t hire me to clean,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m going in undercover as a possible candidate for a job I’m working with Nico.”

Darron’s eyebrows go way up at my mention of Nico. Even since Nico and I started our office sharing arrangement, Darron has gotten in the habit of asking me, “How was work? Bang Nico yet?”

Not wanting to deal with that question or hear anymore commentary about the cobwebs in my cooch, I quickly add, “It pays even better than a cleaning job. So a new TV is definitely in our future.”

“Oh, well in that case,” Darron spins on his heel, executing a perfect turn. I know it wouldn’t matter if he was wearing tennis shoes or six-inch stilettos. Girl’s got moves.

He joins Shauna in eyeing my closet contents. “I think we can put something together here,” he mutters, flicking through hangers. “Something that says, I’m interested, but not really available. Charming, but aloof. Smoldering, but not sexy.”

He pauses a second, then turns back to me. “Sorry, you’ve got nothing. Everything here is either Bettie Page or if Kurt Cobain were a girl.”

I flop back on the mattress, any interest I’d had in the project evaporating.

“It’s okay, honey,” Darron says, joining me on the bed, his hands easing out a kink in my shoulder. “You know my drama club just put on Mamma Mia. I’m sure I can raid the costume closet and come up with something just right for an abstinent girl moonlighting in a sex cult.”

“Good idea,” Shauna says, joining us on the bed. “But don’t cults have like, uniforms or whatever? Jumpsuits or prairie dresses?”

“I don’t know, actually. I have to do some research.”

“Both would be hard to wear to an orgy,” Darron says thoughtfully. “If it were me, I’d go for easy access, like those warm-up pants basketball players wear, that just rip off.”

“Stripper pants!” Shauna yells. “Oh course, those are perfect for group sex!”

“What is this?” I ask. “My crash course on orgies?”

Of course, neither one of them even acknowledges me. My housemates have no sense of boundaries.

“I’ll just do a Google…” Shauna thumbs through her phone, eyebrows creased. “Have you looked up anything about this group at all?”

“No,” I say, unease rising in my gut. “I know that it’s sex-positive and founded by a woman. Supposedly all the members are there of their own free will. I’m going just to do a wellness check for my client’s sister, just to make sure that’s all true.”

“That’s all you knew before you agreed to this?” Darron asks, gesturing for Shauna to hand over her phone.

Argh, it kind of is. With Gary Bennet flashing his cash and Nico breathing down my neck.

“Not exactly,” I huff. “You know Charms, right?”

“The cathouse?”

“Yeah,” I confirm. Charms is an under-the-table, off-the-books brothel run by an ogre madame named Canwella. She has both human and supe employees—as well as customers—and a healthy gambling business in the basement, too.

“One of Canwella’s girls ran off to join them, right?” Shauna asks. She twirls one of her pink pigtails around her slim finger.

“You remember that?” I ask.

“Since I’ve laid off the beauty my memory is just like…” She makes a chopping motion with her hand then does a little pew pew noise.

Darron and I exchange a glance, then he shouts out, “Laser focused!” like we were playing charades. Shauna nods happily, her pigtails dancing.

“You really get me,” she tells him. “You’re like the gender-fluid uncle I never had.”

Darron beams and puts his hand over his heart. “Thanks honey. You’re like the manic pixie niece I never knew I wanted.”

“Anyway,” I continue, “Seraphina, the mermaid I told you about, got hooked in by the podcast and ended up joining the group. I remember something she said…” I close my