by Lynn Hagen
Vince clenched his jaw. “Fine.” He turned to Maltese. “Stay at this desk. You got me?”
Maltese opened his mouth to tell his mate he wasn’t dumb enough to leave the station when Vince grabbed him and hauled him close, uncaring who was standing there as he gave Maltese a toe-curling, heart-stopping kiss.
Maltese’s brain had melted to the side of his skull by the time Vince pulled away. He felt dizzy and breathless and had to sit before he fell over. Too bad they weren’t alone because Maltese would’ve stripped naked and bent over the desk.
“I need a cold shower,” Pat said as he fanned himself. “Why can’t I find a guy who’ll kiss me like that?”
After blinking a few times, Maltese still didn’t have his wits about him. He watched Vince and Jacoby walk out of the station while his cheeks flamed red-hot, embarrassed that Vince had done that in front of everyone and giddy that his mate hadn’t cared who had been around.
“You’re one lucky guy.” Pat smiled before he walked away.
Pat was right. Maltese did feel like one lucky guy.
Werth jabbed a thick finger at Maltese’s desk. “Stay put. I don’t want you going any farther than the bathroom. Got that?”
“Got it.” When Werth walked away, Maltese pressed his fingers to his still-tingling lips. Now how the hell was he supposed to work when he had a hard cock and all he could think about was how much he wanted another kiss?
Vince had come to mean everything to him in such a short period of time. Maltese hadn’t thought he would ever open up to anyone, ever trust anyone again in life. But Vince was his steady rock, had been there for Maltese time and time again, and had just shown the entire station how much he meant to his snow leopard.
Maybe, just maybe, Maltese was falling in love. With a wide grin, he turned back to his computer and dove back into his work.
* * * *
Vince and Jacoby had ditched the patrol car a block over and had gone into the woods on foot. They wanted the element of surprise on their side—if it was Vargas. Just because Mrs. O’Reilly had seen a bald guy didn’t mean it was the guy they were looking for.
Vince still cursed the fact that he’d looked right at the tan car that night and hadn’t known the man behind the wheel would try to kill him and Maltese.
They moved in silent synchronization toward the woods across from Mrs. O’Reilly’s house. Jacoby had a rifle slung over his shoulder, and Vince had his department-issued gun still tucked in its holster. He dropped to one knee and studied the terrain before moving on.
Less than two minutes later, Jacoby signaled him. His partner was ten feet away on Vince’s left. Jacoby had stopped moving and was now looking through the scope of his rifle.
Vince glanced around but didn’t see what Jacoby was looking at. The only thing ahead of them, and surrounding them, were trees. He’d be able to track Vargas a lot better in his snow leopard form, but Vince held off from shifting.
If it truly was Vargas in the woods, he wanted an up-close talk with the guy, and not while he was nude.
Vince looked over his shoulder at Jacoby, who had lowered his rifle. He shook his head and moved forward. Vince moved, as well, his boots soundless on the ground as he inched ahead.
If he hadn’t scented the deer before it rushed past him, Vince might’ve shot it. His nerves were wound tight as he listened to the sounds filtering through the area.
“Not another step.”
Vince froze. Jacoby swung around and aimed his rifle in Vince’s direction.
“Tell your partner to drop his weapon, or I’ll blow a hole through your skull.” Something hard pressed against the back of Vince’s head.
Jacoby dropped his rifle and held his hands up. “I hope you don’t seriously think we’re gonna let you get away,” he said.
“I do when I have a cop as a hostage,” Vargas said. “You’re gonna bring me Maltese, or both of you will pay the price.” He tapped the back of Vince’s head with the barrel of his gun. “I’m taking this one with me.” Vargas tossed a black flip phone toward Jacoby. “Call the programmed number when you have Maltese. We’ll do an exchange when we meet back up.”
“The hell you will,” Vince snarled. “Don’t you dare give him what he wants, Jacoby.”
Energy lashed through Vince. His snow leopard snarled, ready to burst free. His body grew tight as he looked toward Jacoby, ready to give the signal that they should shift, but the deputy beat him to it.
Jacoby gave Vince a quick nod. “I think it’s time the cats came out to play.”
As soon as Jacoby finished his sentence, they shifted—Vince into his snow leopard and Jacoby into his cougar.
“What the fuck!” Vargas stumbled backward, firing his gun haphazardly as he landed on his ass. He kept shooting, forcing Vince and Jacoby to dodge the bullets as they ran for cover behind separate trees.
“I…I gotta be seeing things.” Vargas pushed to his feet. “Men that can change into animals? I ain’t getting paid enough for this shit.”
Vince quietly worked his way to the backside of Vargas, his paws pressing silently into the earth. He hunched down, keeping himself out of sight as Vargas whipped his head around, his eyes wide, his gun still clutched in his hand. Jacoby was still hidden, as well, and Vince could scent the cougar downwind. He could also smell the rankness of Vargas’s fear.
The guy had no idea what he was up against, but he would soon find out.
Instead of pouncing, Vince shifted into his human form and rushed forward, tackling Vargas. He wrestled the gun from Vargas’s hand and threw it away from them. Vince curled his fingers around Vargas’s throat and applied pressure. “Who the fuck’re you working for?”
Vargas slapped at Vince’s hands as he kicked his legs and wiggled under him. “Stop choking me,” he wheezed past his lips.
“He won’t answer you if you crush his windpipe,” Jacoby said as he approached. “Give him room to breathe.”
“He tried to kill Maltese,” Vince said between clenched teeth. “The son of a bitch is gonna die.”
“But let him tell us who hired him before you snap his neck.”
Vince really wasn’t going to kill Vargas. Good cop, bad cop still worked on idiots like this piece of scum.
“Dude.” Jacoby hunched down next to them and clicked his tongue. “I think you need to tell him before he squeezes the life out of you.”
“Stop…him.” Vargas was turning a deep shade of red, and Vince feared that if the bastard held out too long, he actually would kill the guy.
Jacoby held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I can’t. When Deputy Stransky gets this pissed, no one can leash him.”
Pure terror finally entered Vargas’s eyes. “Bozzetto Barros,” he squeezed out past his crushing windpipe.
Vince’s mouth fell open when Vargas said Maltese’s brother’s name. That couldn’t be right. Maltese hadn’t seen his family in twenty years. Why the fuck would Bozzetto hire someone to kill his brother? That didn’t make any sense. He glared at Vargas.
“You’re the one who called my mate and said you were gonna end his life.” Vince applied more pressure.
Jacoby smacked Vince’s arm. “Ease up.” He looked at Vargas. “Why’d he hire you to kill Maltese?”
“Inheritance.” Vargas gasped for air and scratched at his throat when Vince eased his grip. “And I’m gonna sue the fuck outta you guys for trying to kill me!”
In a move Vince hadn’t expected, Vargas shoved him off and rolled, grabbing the gun Vince had kicked away. The gunshot echoed in the woods as Vargas fell backward, a bullet hole between his eyes.
Jacoby had snatched Vince’s gun from its holster and fired before Vince could react. The deputy cursed as he lowered the weapon. “It would’ve been nice to get more information out of him.”
Vince pushed to his feet. “What would be nice is some clothes. That piece of shit got what he deserved.”
Shaken by what Vargas had said, Vince retrieved his sidear
m from Jacoby and headed back the way they came, needing his go-bag from the trunk of the car so he could get dressed and call in the shooting.
“Do you know who Bozzetto Barros is?” Jacoby asked after grabbing Vargas’s gun and catching up to Vince. “You paled when he said that name.”
What had Vargas meant when he’d said inheritance? Maltese had told him that his dad was broke, a con artist who had been trying to marry his son off for money. Vince needed to get back to the station so he could talk with Maltese.
“Vince?”
“Bozzetto is Maltese’s brother.”
Jacoby gave a low whistle. “Talk about family issues.”
But at least now Vince had a solid lead. He knew where to look…as soon as Maltese told him where his family lived. They made it back to the squad car to find all four tires slashed.
Jacoby cursed as Vince got dressed.
“Werth is gonna have a fit,” Jacoby said. “Do you know how much new tires cost?”
“Not as much as it’s gonna cost the department to replace Mark’s tow truck.” Vince checked the glove box and was relieved his cell phone hadn’t been stolen. He used it to call Werth and give him an update.
“Did you have to kill him?” Werth snarled. “I knew I should have sent Pat.”
Vince rolled his eyes. “Pat doesn’t even know how to fire a gun.”
“That’s my point,” Werth argued. “I wanted Vargas brought in alive for questioning.”
“I questioned him,” Vince said. “I got what I needed. You can send the coroner to pick up the body.”
Vince hung up and looked down at the tires. Just great. Now they were gonna have to walk back to the station.
* * * *
“We got another call about a stolen car,” Pat said when he stuck his head into Orlando’s office.
“Send Deputy Weston to check it out.” Orlando rubbed his forehead where a migraine was starting. The rash of car thefts and break-ins hadn’t let up, and they still didn’t know who was behind them.
Maybe it was time he handed the case over to Maverick. The alpha had said to call on him any time Orlando was shorthanded, and although Orlando was a proud man who didn’t like to admit when he needed help, this was getting out of hand.
Why not take the alpha up on his offer?
First, though, he needed a cup of coffee. Ever since Maltese had cleaned the gunk out of the machine, the brew tasted like heaven.
Orlando stepped from his office and headed toward the kitchen then froze in his tracks.
Where in the hell was Maltese?
Chapter Nine
“Vince is gonna kick my ass,” Maltese said into the phone as he hurried around the side of the police station and started down the street. “He’s gonna turn me into mud, yell at me for hours on end, and with my luck, he’ll try to ground me.”
“Like always, you’re being overdramatic,” Boz said. “How can he be pissed if you’re visiting your brother?”
Maltese wasn’t even sure why he’d agreed to meet up with Boz. The last time they’d spoken, Boz was holding him down so their father could pour that concoction down his throat and strip away his powers. But he’d begged Maltese’s forgiveness and had said that was twenty years ago. He was a new man, no longer under their father’s controlling thumb.
This is not gonna end well when Vince finds out I took off. Maltese stopped walking and took a deep breath. Every instinct in him told him to turn around and head back to the station. But this was his brother that he hadn’t seen in two decades. What harm could come from seeing him? Besides, as fucked up as Maltese’s family was, he missed them. Crazy, but true.
You need your head examined if you miss people who took your powers away. But Boz was right. That had been a long time ago and people did change.
He pulled his phone away from his ear when it beeped. “Hold on. I got another call.”
“Don’t you answer—”
“Hello?” Maltese said.
“You have five seconds to tell me where you are,” Vince snapped. “I said to stay put, and you wander away?”
“It was important,” Maltese argued. “I haven’t seen my brother in a very long time, and he wanted to—”
“Bozzetto?” Vince said the name as if it were poison on his tongue. “Tell me where you are, sweetheart.” Now his mate sounded panicked.
“It’s just my brother. He begged me to meet up with him. He said he was a changed man and wanted to make up for what he’d done.”
“If he was a changed man, why did he have you sneak away?” Vince sounded out of breath. “Now tell me where you are.”
Maltese stood there, gazing up and down the street, unsure what he should do. He and Boz used to be best friends when they were younger, and in truth, Maltese missed him dearly. “I’m a block east of the station.”
“Don’t move,” Vince said. “Promise me you won’t take another step.”
“What’s this about?” Maltese frowned when a white SUV pulled to the curb. The guy behind the wheel waved. Maltese had no idea who it was. He waved back.
“It’s me, you moron.” Boz reached over the passenger seat and opened the door. “Hop in. We’ll go for a ride and talk.”
It had been a while since he’d seen his brother, but damn, Maltese didn’t even recognize him. He was all grown up, with dark hair, just like Maltese’s, but he had a low-trimmed beard across his jaw, and he was muscled, not scrawny like he used to be.
“Is that your brother?” Vince asked, sounding even more winded, like he was running. “Don’t you dare get into his car.”
Maltese took a step back. “If you wait just a second, I can introduce you to my mate.”
Boz’s smile slipped. “I thought we could have some alone time, you know, to reconnect. You can do introductions later. I promise.”
Maltese looked left and saw Vince barreling down the street toward him. As fast as he was running, Maltese was shocked Vince hadn’t shifted midstride.
“Don’t you want to be brothers again?” Boz asked, pulling Maltese’s attention away from his mate.
When Maltese turned to look at Boz, he gasped. His brother held a gun in his hand, and it was pointed at Maltese. “What’re you doing?”
“I’m doing things the hard way since you want to be an idiot.”
Maltese dropped to the ground just as the gun fired. The SUV shot from the curb and raced down the street, careening around a corner as Vince grabbed Maltese from the ground and held him by his upper arms.
“Are you hurt?”
“N-No.” But he shook like crazy. “Why the hell did my brother just try to kill me?” It made no sense. Maltese had never done anything to insult or hurt Boz in any way. He’d been willing to forgive his brother’s part in stripping Maltese’s powers, so why had he fired a gun at him?
A few deputies and the sheriff were racing their way. Maltese looked over his shoulder, but the SUV was gone.
Vince cupped his face and made Maltese look at him. “Tell me, baby. Why’d you leave the station?”
There was pure panic in Vince’s green eyes.
“I-I thought it would be safe to meet up with Boz.” Now Maltese saw how wrong he’d been. “Boz told me not to tell anyone, that he didn’t want anyone stopping me from meeting him.”
“Oh, hon.” Vince hugged Maltese to his chest. “It was your brother who put the hit out on you.”
“Wait. What?” Maltese tried to pull back, but Vince had a hand cupped to the back of his head, pinning him in place. “Did you just say Boz hired someone to kill me?”
What in the blue blazes was going on? Had Maltese’s world flipped upside down without anyone telling him? Aside from that one incident, he and Boz had always gotten along.
Vince didn’t release him until the deputies and Werth stood by them. He took Maltese’s hand in his. “We found Vargas. He told us your brother hired him.”
“But why?”
“He only said one word before he was killed,�
� Vince said. “Inheritance.”
Maltese ripped his hand from his mate’s and took a step back. “That’s insane. My dad isn’t rich. He’s a con artist that takes people for their money, but he doesn’t have any of his own. Vargas lied to you.”
But that still didn’t explain why Boz had taken a shot at him.
“Let’s get you back to the station,” Werth said. “Then we’ll have a talk about you obeying orders.”
Great. Vince was gonna kick his ass, and his boss was gonna fire him. And on top of that, his brother had hired a hitman. What Vargas said had to be true. If Boz hadn’t shot at him, Maltese wouldn’t have believed any of it.
As they walked back, Maltese felt a raindrop hit his cheek. He was glad for the rain because it would mask his tears. He thought he’d finally have a chance at being with his family again, but Boz had been tricking him, and stupid him had fallen for it.
Vince had been right. If Boz had turned over a new leaf, he wouldn’t have had Maltese sneak away. He would’ve come into the station to see him, and that thought hurt more than Maltese cared to admit. It shouldn’t, though. He hadn’t seen his family in two decades. One would think that much time would dull or even erase any family ties.
But it hadn’t, and Maltese was just as hurt as he had been the day Boz had willingly helped their father.
By the time they passed through the front doors, the rain had grown steadier, coming down a little harder now.
Vince pulled Maltese into Werth’s office and closed the door. “Hey, look at me.”
Maltese wiped at his eyes as he met Vince’s gaze. “I’m an idiot.”
“No.” Vince made Maltese sit in the chair across from Werth’s desk and then squatted in front of him. “You’re just a person who wanted to reconnect with his family. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“That desire to reconnect almost got me killed,” Maltese complained. “I should’ve known something was wrong, but yet again, I acted on impulse without thinking it through. Do you know how many times that’s gotten me into trouble?”
