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“Fine.” The bartender set down the glass she was drying and reached for the money Cass had set down—more than enough for a drink. She counted it and nodded, clearly accepting the large tip with the understanding that she’d need to offer some information in return.
“Can I have a Cosmo?” Cass asked with a sweet smile. What bird didn’t enjoy a good cocktail?
The bartender nodded, though the corners of her mouth seemed condemned by gravity to remain turned down. It was the best RBF—Resting Bitch Face—Cass’d seen in a while. Impressive. Cass wondered what bird species she might be. With a face like that, perhaps pied starling. There was really no way for her to know, though. She didn’t have a great sense of scent to begin with, and it was hard to scent the differences in bird species. It wasn’t like figuring out if a mammal was a lion or tiger or hound.
As the bartender flittered off to make the concoction, the rest of the bar went back about its business. The jukebox started up with all the conversations. Soon all the patrons chirped as usual.
As soon as the drink was placed in front of her, Cass decided to start her line of questioning. “We’re looking for a hawk that makes a habit of flying away with shifters in its talons. You hear anything about this?”
The bartender leaned in on her elbows. Cass mirrored her, closing the gap between them. The woman pointed to a group in black leather vests in the far corner of the bar. “Do you see that biker gang?” she asked. Cass nodded. “They had a member go missing last week. Might be a good place to start.”
Cass thanked her and plucked up her martini glass, surprised this establishment had fancy glassware. She expected to get her drink in a plastic cup.This dump has class, she thought, crossing the crowded room with Grayson following a few steps behind. She cursed under her breath after stepping on another sticky tile. These shoes were definitely either getting burned or would need some TLC to clean the gunk off of them.
Five gang members, three male and two female, chugged down the remains of their longnecks before picking up new bottles of beer in front of them. One of the larger males had his back to them. “Murderous Crows” was stitched into the back of his black, faux-leather vest. A layer of fat coated his large, muscular biceps, but Cass assumed he could still pack a punch if threatened. She had no intention of testing her theory.
Someone at the table gestured for the large man to turn around. Cass took in his long beard and the scar across the bridge of his crooked nose. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice gruff and loud, making it clear they weren’t going to be easy to talk to.
“I heard one of your gang went missing. We want to help,” Cass offered, trying to keep her tone neutral. She flashed her ASS badge, wanting to be upfront about her status as law enforcement before starting the conversation. Better for them to know the facts right away and not accuse them of subterfuge later. Now, to convince him that they were on their side. Otherwise, she couldn’t earn their trust and they’d clamp their beaks so tight a caw couldn’t escape.
“Why do you care?” a woman with frizzy bleach-blonde hair piped up. She narrowed her eyes at them.
“Could be your missing friend fell foul of a red-tailed hawk we’re looking for,” Grayson explained, startling Cass. He’d been so quiet so far she’d almost wondered if he’d snuck out the door when she wasn’t looking.
The large male tilted back his head as he took a long swig of beer from the brown bottle in his hand. He inspected Cass and Grayson, narrowing his eyes. “Who are you two? The misfit police? One of you looks like you just stepped off the farm and the other looks like you’re about to judge a beauty pageant.” The whole gang of crows burst out in cackling laughter.
Once upon a time, she would have been pegged as a contestant, not a judge, but that fact didn’t ruffle her. “Just because I am fashionable doesn’t mean I don’t know how to kick ass,” Cass retorted. “Don’t underestimate the amount of damage I could do with these stilettos. They’re great for stabbing.” Okay, maybe she’d never stab anyone with her favorite pair of heels. One of her field ones… absolutely. Even one of her out-of-season ones, sure. If she was in a jam and a shoe needed to be sacrificed, then so be it. But her lucky pair? That would only happen if things turned life or death. Even so, these crows didn’t need to know that.
“For the record,” Grayson butted in, showing his badge as Cass had already done, “we’re FUC and ASS.”
“You’re fucking ass?” the blonde lady asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “I hardly know you. Why do I care what you two do in your spare time?”
Cass shook her head. These stupid acronyms left everyone confused. “I’m with ASS, he’s from FUC,” she corrected. “As in, agents.”
The group still looked confused, some cocking their heads to the side, others wrinkling their bows. After scratching their heads, they seemed ready to let it slide and move on.
“What about the hawk?” an older man in the back piped up. He rubbed the greying scruff on his jawline.
“A red-tailed hawk shifter tried to kidnap one of my FUCN’A cadets,” Grayson explained. “We think the hawk is a gun for hire, working for scientists who experiment on shifters.” He was unable to hide the disdain in his voice. Cass knew him well enough to deduce how important his students were to him. It was clear his FUCN’A job as an instructor was more than a paycheck. He cared for his pupils. Cass’ heart skipped a beat when she noticed the worry spread across his face as his brows rumpled in concern. Grayson always had a big heart, and she was glad to see that years at this job hadn’t dampened that. It was so easy to become burned out and calloused.
The older biker adjusted the black bandanna covering his balding head. His face scrunched up as he thought, deepening his wrinkles. “Joe did mention a hawk he met. Said she used to hang out with a flock of seagulls in the park downtown.”
“You’re right!” the blonde chick piped up, nearly springing out of her chair with excitement. “I think her name was Cindy… or Sandy. Joe’s been struggling to find a girl since he and his ol’ lady broke up.”
“Was she a red-tail?” Cass asked, glad they could offer her some information. It was more than they had before they walked in.
The burly man answered, “She was definitely a hawk, but I don’t know what variety.”
“When did Joe go missing?”
“Last week, Sunday.” The burly crow shifter leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Yeah, now that I think about it… Joe said his new friend had ‘something special planned’ for him or something.”
“It was something special, all right,” the blonde agreed. “We haven’t seen him since.”
“We drink here every night,” the older crow explained with a shrug. “We suspected something happened to Joe when he stopped showing, but what could we do about it? The law ain’t going to care about a dude from a biker gang going missing.”
“Well, then I’m glad we came in here,” Cass said, placing her card on their table and then setting her Cosmo down on the corner of it. “Thank you for the information. Hopefully we’ll find some trace of your friend.”
The group looked offended by the drink, but one of them scooped up the card.
