Stealing His Heart

by Bru Baker

  Magic.

  The realization that the witches Joss was so scared of were here had him breaking free of his paralysis. He hurled himself over the Formica table, crashing into Joss and dragging him off the bench seat. He spread himself over Joss, shielding him from the van that slammed into them and pinned them to the wall.

  For a second, time seemed to slow down. The engine died, and the diner seemed eerily quiet without the angry hum of gears. The smell of ozone thickened, filling his lungs to the point he couldn’t draw a breath. And then it receded just as suddenly, and sound rushed back.

  Danny’s body erupted in agony. He had to pour all his concentration into holding his human form and not letting himself shift to wolf, and he was dizzy with the effort. Joss was still beneath him, his breathing heavy but unimpeded. Danny rested his head against Joss’s shoulder, comforted by each rise and fall of his chest. His own breaths were harsh and painful. It was almost impossible to separate out individual injuries from the white-hot pain that seared through him, but he was reasonably certain he was still in one piece.

  “Danny? Holy fuck. Danny? Are you alive?”

  Danny wheezed out a confirmation that he wasn’t dead, but he couldn’t manage much more than that. People had started moving around the diner, doing what they could to help the injured. There were sirens in the distance, and he sent up a fervent prayer they were for them.

  He had to get out of here. The scrapes on his face and arms were already healing and he couldn’t risk paramedics asking questions. Danny tried to straighten, gasping when the movement sent a new shower of lava through his broken body.

  Joss had managed to flip himself around so he could help support Danny’s weight.

  “What are you doing? Stop. Stop moving, Danny. Fuck, you could have broken your back.”

  “Gotta go,” he gritted out. “Healing.”

  “Yes, you need help healing. Just stay still.”

  His broken bones wouldn’t heal until they were set correctly, but he couldn’t let himself be taken to a hospital. It was something ingrained in wolflings from the moment of their Turn, if not earlier. He repeated it in his head like a mantra to keep himself from passing out. Secrecy is everything. Don’t let humans know what you are.

  The sirens were unbearably loud now. Danny tried one more time to push himself up, but he ended up dry heaving when the movement jarred his dislocated shoulder. He looked into Joss’s wide, terrified eyes, and then the world went black.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I’M not saying the Yankees suck, but—”

  Pain lanced through Max, sucking the breath out of him. He doubled over and clutched his ribs. His entire chest was on fire, and there wasn’t a single part of him that didn’t hurt.

  Oscar squatted in front of him, his hands on Max’s shoulders.

  “Do I need to call a rig? You’re scaring me, buddy.”

  He forced himself to stand up straight. “Call Danny.”

  Oscar stood with him, still holding on. Max probably would have toppled over without the support. He leaned into Oscar, letting his partner bear his weight.

  “I’m calling this in,” Oscar said, one arm looped around Max.

  “Call Danny,” he repeated, his voice stronger this time. The pain had faded, but he was still wobbly and weak.

  “Unless Danny has an MD after his name, he’s not the one you need to see right now. What hurts, Max? You were holding your chest. Is it your heart?”

  It was, but not the way Oscar meant. Something had happened to Danny. Something horrible. Mate bonds could transmit strong emotions when one of the bonded pair was in trouble, and Alpha Mate bonds were even more intense. This wasn’t Max’s pain. It was Danny’s.

  “I’m okay. I just need to check in with Danny.”

  Oscar gave him a dirty look but dialed Danny’s number anyway. It went straight to voicemail. Now he knew something was wrong. Danny never turned his phone off. He needed to be available at all times for the foundation. He didn’t even turn it off when he was in court.

  “I’ll leave him a message when we get you to the hospital and we know what’s going on.” Oscar started pulling Max toward the car. They’d been heading out to do surveillance on a warehouse that was next on the list to be robbed, according to a call that had come in on the tip line.

  Fuck. Danny had been cagey about who he was meeting for lunch, and Max had let it go because he didn’t want to come across as a possessive boyfriend. Whatever was going on had to be tied to whoever he was meeting.

  Max let Oscar shepherd him into the car without protest, but he had no intention of going to the hospital to get checked out. There wasn’t anything wrong with him.

  His fingers shook as he dialed Sloane’s number, and he could have cried in relief when she picked up.

  “Do you know where Danny is?”

  Sloane hesitated. “He had errands today or something.”

  Max forced himself to take a breath so he didn’t scream at her. “Something’s wrong, Sloane. He’s in trouble. I need to know where he is.”

  “I don’t know, Max.”

  “I’m not fucking around,” he snapped. He looked at Oscar, who was driving but clearly listening in on the conversation. He probably thought Max had had a psychotic break or something. “You know how I have that, uh, psychic cousin? Well, I got the same kind of, um, vision that she does. It was like I could feel what was happening to Danny, and it wasn’t good.”

  Sloane caught on, thank God. “Shit. He’s been trying to find one of his kids. He thinks he’s the one who stole the foundation stuff.”

  Papers shuffled in the background. “I’m going to text you the contact information for the private investigator he was using. She might know where he was going. Oh my God, Max. What do you think happened to him? What do you mean you felt his pain?”

  She was close to tears, and as angry as he was that she’d been helping Danny go behind his back to interfere with his investigation, he couldn’t leave her in the dark.

  “You know what it means. We share a tight bond, remember?” Her intake of breath reassured him she’d gotten his point. “I’ll find him. Keep trying to call him, okay? Let me know if you get him.”

  He called the number she sent him, but that was an office phone that went straight to voicemail. He left a clipped, angry message and his callback information and hung up, tossing the phone on the dashboard in disgust. His mate needed him and he was absolutely useless. Damnit.

  “Since when do you have a psychic cousin?” Oscar asked, his tone heated.

  “Probably since she was born, I don’t know how that shit works,” Max snapped. His control was threadbare right now, and it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. He closed his eyes, hoping they weren’t flashing.

  His phone rang before Oscar could ask another question, and he grabbed it with preternatural speed, not even trying to tone it down for the human in the car. At this rate he was going to have to confess everything to Oscar or risk his partner investigating on his own.

  His heart sank when he his brother’s name lit up the screen. “Phil? It’s not a—”

  “You’ve got to get over here. EMTs just brought Danny in, and he’s in bad shape. I’m working on him, and he’ll be okay, but it’s going to be hard to cover this up.”

  Phil hung up, and Max’s heart fell to his feet.

  “It’s Danny. Phil’s working on him in his ER.” He took a shaky breath. “Full siren.”

  Max’s parents were already there when he and Oscar burst through the ER entrance. He’d tried to get Oscar to drop him off, but he’d refused. They’d double parked in a fire lane, lights still running, on their dash to the ER.

  He’d have to convince Oscar to go park it in the hospital garage to buy them some time to get their story straight before Oscar saw Danny. Max hated that he had to think about that right now when all he wanted to do was see that his mate was safe, but he had a duty not just to Danny but to his Pack and the greate
r supernatural community to make sure their secret didn’t get out.

  Oscar was on his heels as he skidded up to the nurse’s station, but he stopped when Max’s mom called out to him. She had her arm around a lanky teenager Max didn’t recognize, but he didn’t have time to stop. He kept going past them, making a beeline for the front desk.

  “You have my husband here,” he said, deciding Danny would forgive the lie because of the circumstances. “Daniel Cresswell.”

  The nurse didn’t bat an eye. “Dr. Torres told us to expect you. Kim will take you back right away.”

  Thankfully, Oscar didn’t try to follow. Max wasn’t sure what he was going to find when he got to Danny. He could be shifted, and at the very least he’d be healing at an inexplicable rate.

  The nurse was a fast walker, which he appreciated. Max didn’t need her to find Danny, but he let her lead because running through the ER would bring more unwanted attention. Hospitals were always rough, with the stringent bite of antiseptic and the scent of pain and sickness, but smelling Danny’s blood—and not just a little of it—made Max’s control falter. He shoved his hands in his pockets to conceal the claws that were sprouting and kept his head down in case his eyes were glowing.

  Breathing through his mouth helped mute the overwhelming scents, and Max zeroed in on Danny’s heartbeat to help keep him grounded. It was faster than normal but steady.

  Phil was bandaging Danny’s left leg when Max walked into the room. The nurse closed the door behind him, and Max lunged for Danny. Phil stopped him with a hand to his chest.

  “I haven’t been able to set his broken bones because there’s no curtain over the window,” Phil said, nodding over Max’s shoulder. “I want to do it while he’s still out because it will be horrifically painful, and I can’t give him anything for it.”

  Fuck. Max needed to hold Danny so badly that it was physically painful to be separated from him, but he could handle that. He was more worried about Danny’s pain.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Stand in front of the door. Lean your back against the window. Don’t let anyone in.”

  Max took his position, leaning hard against the door. He put his hand on the doorknob for good measure.

  “Brace yourself. He’s probably going to wake up, and it’s not going to be pretty. I need to be focused on Danny, so you have to control yourself, okay? You can’t hulk out in here.”

  “Danny calls it going asshole Alpha,” Max murmured.

  “Well, whatever you call it, you can’t do it. He’ll respond to your emotions, so if you lose it, he’ll probably shift. That’s a problem we don’t need. Got it?”

  This was going to be torture for him, but it was going to be worse for Danny. Max could be strong for him. And he trusted his brother. If Phil said this was necessary, then it was.

  Max tightened his stance, his muscles tensing as he waited for Phil to begin. He closed his eyes for good measure. Hearing and smelling Danny in pain was bad enough.

  “I will haunt you forever if you freak out and kill me for hurting your mate,” Phil said under his breath. “Okay. One, two, three.”

  Danny drew in a harsh breath and started screaming. Max’s fangs dropped, and he could barely contain a growl. He held his breath until his lungs burned, which was a mistake. As soon as he took a breath and the scent of Danny’s pain filled his nostrils he lost control of the shift. Fire rippled over his skin as he sprouted fur. He kept his back pressed against the door, using the connection with it to rein himself in. He wanted to rip Phil away from his mate, but rationally he knew Phil wasn’t hurting Danny on purpose. He was setting bones so Danny could heal properly.

  “Fuck,” Danny muttered, his voice hoarse.

  Max’s eyes shot open, and his shift receded as quickly as it had come on. He forced himself to wait until Phil nodded before he hurled himself across the small space. Danny was propped up in the bed with one leg immobilized and his right arm in a sling.

  “Jesus Christ,” Max whispered. He wanted to touch Danny but he couldn’t find a part of him that didn’t look battered. His clothes were ripped, and he was covered in a grimy layer of dust and blood.

  Danny held his left hand out, and Max grabbed it. The skin-on-skin contact helped the last of his shift recede and cleared the haze in his head.

  “Did they bring anyone with me? Tall, light brown hair? I covered him from the worst of it, but he could be hurt. We need to find him.”

  Panic tinged Danny’s words, and Max’s gut tightened. Was this the friend Danny had been meeting?

  Phil looked at the chart. “A guy rode in with you in the bus. EMTs checked him for injuries, and he was okay. Covered in blood, but they assumed it was yours. Is he a shifter?”

  “Selkie,” Danny said. He let go of Max’s hand and struggled to get up. “Where is he now? Is he here? He’s got to be terrified.”

  Phil put a gentle hand to Danny’s chest and Danny deflated like an old balloon, sinking back against the bed with a groan.

  “You’re not going anywhere. The bones I set are still healing.” Phil dropped the chart in the sink and turned on the water.

  “I left the chart on the edge of the sink and it fell in while I was washing my hands after checking on you,” he said, giving Danny a significant look. “We’ll do our best to recreate it, but I won’t be able to remember exactly what the EMTs said when they brought you in. What I remember is going to include a lot of things like “tenderness” and “possible broken bones.” If anyone else comes in to examine you, we’re going to go with bruised ribs and a bad knee sprain. You had a CT scan while you were out, and it confirmed a severe concussion, so tell them about headache and nausea. Sensitivity to sounds and lights won’t be hard to fake.”

  “I have to find Joss,” Danny said. He winced when he tried to lift his injured leg, and this time Max was the one to restrain him. He wasn’t going to let Danny hurt himself.

  “Joss Collins?” he asked sharply.

  Danny tensed, and Max had to clench his teeth to keep in a flurry of profanity.

  “Are you kidding me, Danny? That kid was identified on a traffic cam outside one of the warehouse robberies. How do you know Collins? Why were you meeting with him?”

  “He’s one of mine,” Danny said, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “He’s not in it willingly. I’ve been trying to find him for weeks. He’s a good kid, Max. He’s mixed up with witches, and they’re making him steal things.”

  Max swallowed hard and took a step away from the bed. He wanted to wring Danny’s neck for putting himself in danger and interfering with a police investigation, but he also wanted to crush him to his chest and never let him go. He’d never been so scared before in his life. Not even when Ray almost drowned on that family vacation to the Poconos and Max had to give him CPR.

  “They have his skin,” Danny croaked. “They’re holding it hostage. He had to do what they said, Max. And I don’t think he’s the only one they’re forcing.”

  Of course. That’s why none of the stolen items had shown up on the local black market and why none of his informants had any idea who was behind the thefts. The witches were blackmailing their foot soldiers. That’s why no one had gotten light-fingered with a haul or bragged to their buddies about the heists.

  They couldn’t, or the witches would kill them.

  Jesus.

  “He’s sitting with Ma,” Max said.

  He leaned in and cradled Danny’s face with his free hand, hoping he could ease the pain like he had in the car earlier today. Danny relaxed into the pillows, some of the tightness in his face easing.

  “He’s just a kid,” Danny repeated. The words were pleading this time.

  Max squeezed his fingers and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I know. I’m calling Jackson in on this. The Enforcers are going to want a piece of that coven, assuming the Fae Guard doesn’t get there first. I’m going to have to talk to Joss, Danny. Can you get him to talk to me, do you think? If I bri
ng him back here?”

  Danny shook his head slightly. “He wouldn’t tell me anything, Max. I tried. That’s what we were doing when the witches attacked. They’d had him followed. He said getting involved would kill us both. I guess he wasn’t kidding.”

  Max squeezed his fingers again. “I won’t let anything happen to either of you. But I need a way in. I need to know how they operate and where they’re keeping his skin.”

  Phil cleared his throat, and Max started. He’d forgotten his brother was there. His senses were so trained on Danny, he’d tuned everything else out.

  “I’ll go get him. I’ll tell him Danny wants to see him. If he sees you come for him, he might run, Max.”

  Phil was right. And it also meant he wouldn’t have to let go of Danny, which he definitely wasn’t ready to do yet.

  “Thanks, Phil.”

  He leaned his forehead against Danny’s when the door shut behind Phil. “I don’t know where I can touch you.”

  “Anywhere,” Danny croaked. He shot Max a crooked smile.

  “Pervert,” Max said affectionately. “I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t tell where you’re hurt.”

  Danny huffed out a small laugh. “Everywhere. But it’s getting better. And touching you helps a lot,” he said, wiggling his fingers against Max’s palm.

  “We’re going to talk about you going behind my back with this later,” Max warned. “It’s—you could have been killed, Danny. You can’t go nosing around my cases. You’re not a Hardy Boy.”

  “I’ve always seen myself more as a Nancy Drew,” Danny murmured.

  “I’m not joking, Danny. You’re messing around with something that’s incredibly dangerous.”

  “He’s one of my kids,” Danny said, his voice hardening. “What was I supposed to do, Max? Write him off because he’s struggling? You know that’s not how it works.”

  “You should have trusted me enough to tell me what you were doing.”