Big Bad Wolf (Third Shift #1) - Suleikha Snyder Page 0,2

taking out a bunch of his pals. Peluso had basically kicked over six hornets’ nests. And, looking at him now, it certainly seemed like he did not give a single fuck about it. He was slouched, almost bored. Staring at the table or the wall more than paying attention to his lawyers. There was a slight tension to his shoulders, to the lines of his mouth, but that could be attributed to any number of things. A problem with authority. General surliness. Constipation.

Dustin’s smooth baritone betrayed not one bit of annoyance that their new client wasn’t playing ball. “Would you say you were under duress when you left Queens on the night of September 14?”

“‘Under duress?’ What kind of bullshit phrasing is that?” Peluso rolled his eyes. “No one forced me anywhere. Lone-ass gunman, remember?”

Nate offered his most charming smile in response. “Was it a full moon?” He knew the answer to that already. The date of the hit was well documented. But he wasn’t fishing for calendar confirmation. “Were you perhaps driven by…impulses?”

This, too, met with disdain. And zero acknowledgment of what Nate was referring to. “Do I look like the Weather Channel?” Peluso sneered. “The fuck do I know if it was a full moon?”

Neha struggled not to laugh, to not give him the satisfaction of a reaction, and applied herself to taking notes while Nate and Dustin went over the prelims again. But mostly she just watched their client. Studied him. Recorded what questions made the veins on his neck stand out. When he clenched his fists. He didn’t like talking about his past. Bristled when asked about motive. On the surface, he seemed like the classic alpha male with authority issues. Push the wrong button and he would blow.

But then you added in the shifter factor…and she was stumped. From all reports, Peluso hadn’t changed forms, or attempted to change, since his outburst in court. The medical staff at Brooklyn Detention had done as much blood work as their limited capability allowed, monitored him for weeks afterward, and only logged a few minor signs of supernatural ability. Bursts of increased aggression at certain times of the month—something she could actually relate to. But he hadn’t gone full wolf or bear or whatever he was. He’d done nothing that required putting him in solitary. Aside from being a surly asshole who clearly got in a few dustups here and there, he was a model prisoner. Not so much the model client.

It was the world’s most personal Law & Order rerun—movie-star handsome Nate and suave and serene Dustin trying to get a bead on the chillingly charismatic killer they’d agreed to defend. The contrast was almost comical. Their suits probably cost more money than Joe Peluso would ever see. Hell, Neha knew without a doubt that their suits cost more than her entire wardrobe. They were almost incongruous in the spare, utilitarian, private visitors’ room. Two shining beacons of Armani hotness surrounded by cinder block and reinforced steel—an ad for a fashion house versus the Brooklyn House of Detention.

Halfway through the meeting, she realized Peluso was looking right at her. Leaning back in the chair bolted to the floor, chained fists on the table before him like he’d been ordered to pray. There was something like a smile on his face. A glitter in the black ice-chips of his pupils. Oh. Of course. She knew what was coming. She’d worked as a grunt in the DA’s office for two years before DGS fished her out of the shallow end. This was when the client said something like “Who’s the bitch?” or “She a perk?” or “Can I see your tits?” The veritable sexual harassment buffet.

She braced for it. It never came. Peluso just flicked his gaze back to Nate. “Why’s she here?” he demanded. “You trying to soften me up or something? It ain’t gonna work. I know what you think I am, but you can’t bribe me into good behavior like a dog.”

He was angry. And she wasn’t sure what to unpack first—that he thought she was a bribe, or that he’d compared himself to a dog. There was definitely a chunk of the public who thought he was a rabid monster off the chain, even without knowing his true nature. There were certainly people at the firm who thought she was just a diversity hire with great legs and a pretty face—a showpiece. But he was wrong. Nate hadn’t brought her here to soften him. Just