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Mischa reined in his temper. What was wrong with the male shifters in Mystic River? Didn’t any of them know to keep their distance and behave respectfully in front of a man’s fated mate?
He didn’t say any of that. He didn’t have a chance to. Simone extended her hand, saying, “I’m Simone, Mischa’s new mate.”
“No that can’t be,” said Dash taking her offered hand in both of his. “You’re far too beautiful and kind to be mated toMischa.”
He stressed Mischa’s name. Most everyone in Otter Cove or Mystic River called him Mikhail or Palmer. Mischa couldn’t suppress his growl. If the reindeer-shifter wasn’t careful, they’d be serving caribou for dinner at Tangled Vines tonight.
Dash laughed and released Simone’s hand. “Newly bonded if that bite mark is anything to go by. Well, your meal’s on the house.Mischa—”the reindeer-shifter was enjoying himself, “—any chance we can talk about serving Frost here at the Workshop even for a limited time as a featured wine? I’ve heard a lot of good things about it.”
“Simone wants to think about selling it at Annie’s as well. I’ll let her and Valentin talk about it, and we’ll let you know. I have no idea what the projected yield is, and we already have contracts in place.”
Dash nodded and showed them to a nice corner booth and gave them menus, which Simone began to study, as Dash left them. The reindeer-shifter was right, she really was far too beautiful to be saddled with the likes of him, but he had marked her, she was his, and he was getting tired of other male shifters pawing at his mate.
“You didn’t need to shake his hand—or anyone else’s for that matter,” he muttered.
“Mischa, don’t be silly. I was just being polite. Only last night you growled at me for not being polite. Did anyone ever tell you that you growl a lot? What’s good?”
After they’d finished their meal, Mischa thought about leaving her here or with Doc while he ran a pressing errand, but in the end decided he wanted her close. There was something about Simone that just made things better. They walked back to the boat and he took them around the north end of Kodiak Island and headed to an empty warehouse at an abandoned cannery.
“It’s almost like a—what do you call them in America?—ah yes, a ghost town,” said Simone as she looked at the deserted cannery and all of its associated buildings.
“A century or so ago, this was a state-of-the-art processing facility. Fishing boats coming and going, and they supplied a lot of products to the mainland and the lower forty-eight.”
“‘Lower forty-eight?’”
“The United States spans a great deal of North America from the Atlantic to the Pacific and is comprised of forty-eight contiguous states.”
“I thought there were fifty?”
“There are. The other two are Alaska, which shares no borders with the U.S., only Canada, and the Hawaiian Islands, which are a chain of islands in the Pacific.”
“The Japanese bombed the port there and drew the United States into World War II. Unfortunately, Italy was on the wrong side of that war.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“But still. I remember learning of the atrocities. I wanted to see one of the concentration camps, but my tutor wouldn’t let me.”
“It isn’t something you needed to see. As I said, it was a long time ago, but it will never be forgotten.”
“What is this place?”
“I do a little importing and exporting off the books, so to speak.”
“You’re a smuggler?” she asked gleefully.
“It’s not nearly that romantic, it’s just illegal. I needed to meet with a contact. I want you to stay on the boat. Understand?”
She nodded. When they pulled up alongside the dock, a scruffy-looking man came out of the warehouse and approached Mischa.
“Why don’t I stay by the wheel? That way we won’t have to tie up.”
“I don’t know that that’s necessary, but in retrospect, I shouldn’t have brought you with me, so not necessarily a bad idea.”
He left her at the wheel and stepped off onto the deck. “Kozlov?”
“Pretty girl.”
“My mate.”
