by Paige Tyler
Mike was silent for a moment, and Diego could practically hear the multiple scenarios running through his head.
“We can’t risk waiting any longer,” Mike finally said. “Connor, I want you back here. You’ll be going in through the skylights with Trey and Hale. Diego, you’re going to walk right in the front door. I want those men in the bank focused on you.”
“Copy that,” Diego said.
As Trey and Hale disappeared into the darkness, Diego checked his gear, keeping an ear out for the slightest sound that something was going wrong inside the bank. He didn’t bother to dump his tactical vest like he had at the diner. He’d need it if those men in there realized he was playing decoy. It was the same reason he slipped his SIG into his belt at the small of his back. He didn’t want them to see him coming at them with a weapon, but he didn’t want to go in there without one.
Diego was about to head toward the bank when Connor ran up, sniper rifle strapped across his back, a lithe black cat loping behind him like a four-legged shadow. Diego would like to say he was shocked to see the animal. But as bizarre as Kat the cat sometimes behaved, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn she’d been up on the roof serving as Connor’s spotter.
Kat had been hanging out with the SWAT team ever since December when they’d found her wandering around a warehouse being used to store drugs. The cat had taken one glance at Connor and promptly followed him back to the response vehicle and jumped in, then given them that look only a cat could pull off.
“I’m ready. We can leave now.”
For reasons that absolutely no one could explain, Connor and Kat had developed a connection of sorts. In fact, they hung out together all the time. It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so strange.
“Please tell me you’re not going to let that cat follow you into the bank,” Diego said, glancing at the green-eyed feline, who gazed up at him like she thought he was an idiot before jumping onto the hood of the response vehicle.
“No way. And don’t call her that cat. She has a name.” Connor quickly unloaded his sniper rifle and slipped it in the back of the vehicle. “I let her follow me up onto the roof because it’s safe. We’ve already talked about the fact that she’s not allowed to take part in any tactical entries. She’ll stay here and guard the vehicle.”
Diego nearly asked if Connor was flipping serious, then changed his mind. He almost assuredly was. The man was always talking to the cat. And the little beast was always staring back with those freakishly intelligent eyes and nodding like she was actually listening.
It was unsettling in a this-cat-is-trying-to-take-over-the-world kind of way.
Connor gave the cat a firm look, told her to stay put, then turned and jogged toward the perimeter of police cruisers parked in front of the bank, heading for the back of the building as Kat sat there calmly on the hood of the SUV, watching him. The moment Connor disappeared, she blinked and gave Diego a look suggesting that when she gained that aforementioned world domination, he’d be one of the first she did away with.
Yup, definitely unsettling.
Checking one more time to make sure his SIG was secure behind his gear belt, Diego headed for the front door of the bank, hearing the unmistakable sound of arguing coming from inside.
“Mike, it’s getting hot in there,” he murmured into his radio mic. “We may have to accelerate our timetable.”
“Roger that,” Mike confirmed. “Trey, let us know when you’re in position.”
“Wilco,” Trey answered. “We’ll be in place in less than two.”
When he got to the door, Diego grabbed the handle and pulled it open. Not only hadn’t the bad guys locked it, but they hadn’t considered that piling crap up in front of doors that opened out didn’t do much good. He shoved the stack of upholstered chairs aside, making an awful noise in the process. The hostages huddled near the counter let out a collective gasp at his unceremonious entrance, but Diego didn’t so much as glance at them. The only people he focused on were the three gunmen.
Two of the men on the far side of the bank immediately lifted their weapons and started in his direction. But it was the red-haired guy in the T-shirt and jeans closest to him that concerned him the most—the one Connor had described as catatonic. Shit, the guy couldn’t be more than twenty years old. The kid stood there, hazel eyes flat and lifeless, a smear of blood across his left temple and into his hairline. Diego had no idea where the blood had come from, but the moment the guy noticed him, his gaze went from empty to rage-filled.
Letting out a demented bellow, the guy lifted his weapon and started shooting, running at Diego like some sort of berserker. At the same time, the skylights in the center of the ceiling suddenly shattered, raining down glass and pieces of metal along with his teammates, but the guy coming at him wasn’t fazed by their arrival. The frightened hostages, on the other hand, screamed in panic. Then a round sliced through the muscles of Diego’s right shoulder while another slammed into the center of his tactical vest, and he had to stop worrying about everything but the madman coming at him.
Even though the ballistic plates in his vest stopped the second bullet, it still hurt like hell. The guy was almost on him, though, so Diego ignored the pain and lunged forward, avoiding taking another round to a part of his body that would hurt even worse as he slammed into the gunman. Even though Diego weighed over two hundred and thirty pounds and smashed into him viciously enough to rattle his own teeth, the guy didn’t let out a grunt. Hell, he barely moved. Instead, he slammed right back into Diego.
Diego used the man’s momentum, twisting and flipping the guy across his hip before taking him to the floor so hard he knocked the air out of the man with a grunt. But that didn’t slow the rabid guy down, and he continued to try to point the automatic weapon toward Diego’s face.
They struggled for control of the gun, and as strong as Diego was, it was still a near thing. Sure, he could have partially shifted and torn the guy apart, but he desperately wanted to take this guy in alive. After a few punches, an elbow to the face, and a head-butt, Diego finally got both hands on the gun. Then he twisted violently until he heard the bones in the man’s wrists crack. When the guy released the weapon with a yelp of pain, Diego threw the thing across the room.
He thought for sure the fight would end there.
It didn’t.
Still clearly out of his mind, the man continued to resist, punching and kicking until Diego yanked him up and tackled him again, slamming him into the floor with his shoulder. The guy finally stopped fighting, probably because Diego had managed to knock him out. Now that he wasn’t on the attack, Diego took a good look at him. Sometime during the struggle, the blood smeared on the guy’s temple had been wiped off, and lying there so quietly, looking more like he was asleep than unconscious, Diego was struck once again at how young and innocent his attacker looked. Probably because he was out cold.
Diego reached for the cuffs on his belt as Trey dropped to a knee to help. That was when Diego realized his pack mates had taken the other two gunmen alive as well. Hale stood guard over them as Connor herded the terrified hostages toward the door.
“Is it just my imagination, or are these people getting harder to deal with?” Trey asked as Diego handcuffed the unconscious suspect. “These three almost gave us more than we could handle—at least without shifting.”
“I know,” Diego agreed.
These guys had been a lot more violent than any of the other recent cases. Where the other offenders had seemed reluctant, these guys were willing to kill to get what they wanted.
As Diego flipped the guy over, his eyes fluttered open and he let out a groan. The expression on his face as he blinked up at Diego and Trey, then looked around the bank in confusion, was like nothing Diego had ever seen before.
“Where am I?” the kid asked, his voice rough from all the shouting he’d done, his youthful face full of alarm as he r
ealized his hands were pinned behind his back. “What happened? Am I under arrest?”
Before Diego could say anything, two patrol officers stood the guy on his feet and guided him toward the door. Beside Diego, Trey looked as baffled as he was.
“Did he seriously have no idea where he was or how he got here?” Trey asked.
All Diego could do was shrug, wincing a little at the sharp stab of pain in his right shoulder, because he had no idea what to say. On the bright side, at least no one had died on this call. Unfortunately, they still had no explanation for what was happening to the people in this city.
* * *
The debriefing after the hostage situation at the bank took forever. Chief Leclair showed up again, once more disappointed to learn that this was likely another case of delirium—apparently that stupid word Ernest Hobbs had coined earlier had stuck. The jackass was probably on the other side of the crime-scene tape at that moment.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m praying all three of those men have rap sheets as long as my arm,” the chief said. “It turns out the guy at the diner this morning was a high-profile investment advisor for one of the largest and most prestigious firms in the city. The press is having a field day with this.”
Diego traded looks with his pack mates. “Something tells me those guys we took down in there aren’t hardened criminals. They’re practically kids.”
Leclair muttered a curse. “I’d better go talk to the press before they print something they shouldn’t. Then again, when has that ever stopped them?”
Giving them a nod, she left the RV, but not before giving Mike a long look. Those two were going to need to get a room soon, Diego thought.
Fifteen minutes later, they were headed back to the SWAT compound. Diego tried not to let it show, but he was beat. Not physically, of course. He was a werewolf, which meant it was damn near impossible to be tired in that way. But mentally? He was drained. It had been one hell of a day, and something told him there were going to be a lot of days like it in the very near future.
The idea was almost enough to make him want to crawl into bed and sleep for a week straight.
He felt a vibration in his cargo pocket and reached in to pull out his cell phone, hoping it wasn’t Gage saying there was another hostage situation. But if there was, his commander would have called, not texted. And this was definitely a text—from Bree.
Just thinking about you and wanted to make sure you’re okay. Text me when you get a chance.
A slow smile spread across Diego’s face. Suddenly, he didn’t feel nearly as tired.
Chapter 5
“If you don’t calm down, you’re going to hyperventilate,” Beth said as she zipped up Bree’s sleeveless dress. “You don’t want Diego to show up for your first date and find you passed out on the floor.”
Bree was tempted to tell her sister it wasn’t a date but gave up. Who was she kidding? Of course, it was a date. The first real date she’d had in a very long time. That was why she was breathing like she’d run a half marathon. At least she wasn’t sweating like she’d finished one.
She hoped.
Just in case, she threw a surreptitious glance in the full-length mirror attached to the back of her closet door, making sure her makeup was still perfect and that there wasn’t any telltale glimmer to give away her near panic.
“Don’t worry,” Beth said softly. “You look amazing. Diego will melt into a puddle of goo the second he sees you.”
Bree laughed at that image. She very much doubted Diego would melt at the sight of her, but it was nice to think he might, and that thought helped get her breathing back under control.
Beth glanced at her watch. “Get your shoes on. He’s going to be here soon.”
Bree took a quick peek at her own watch to see that her sister was right. Crap. She still had to check on dinner. Hurrying over to the closet, she slid her feet into the wedge sandals Beth suggested she wear, then turned to survey her reflection in the mirror. Her sister was right about that, too. The shoes did go perfectly with the little black dress she had on.
“You sure there’s nothing else I can help you get ready before I leave for my date?” Beth asked as they walked into the kitchen. “Maybe toss the salad or butter the garlic bread?”
“I’m good, thanks.” Bree bent down to pop open the oven and check the chicken parmesan she’d put in there to keep warm. It smelled delicious and looked even better. “You know, you and your boyfriend are more than welcome to join us for dinner. I’m sure Diego would love to meet you guys.”
Beth laughed as she straightened the place settings on the table. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not leaving until he gets here. No way would I bail before getting a look at him. I have to make sure he’s good enough for my sister, after all. But then I’m leaving so you can have your privacy. How do you expect anything good to happen unless you spend a little alone time with this guy?”
Bree would have pointed out that Brandon was probably going to be having dinner with them, but the doorbell rang before she could say anything. Her heart began thudding like someone was jumping around inside her chest with a pogo stick.
“That’s Diego,” she announced rather unnecessarily as she pointed a warning finger at her sister. “You behave!”
Beth gave her a look that made it seem like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. As if.
Bree slowed her steps as she walked to the door, carefully smoothing her hands down the front of her dress, absently noting that her palms were a little moist. Why was she so nervous? It wasn’t like she was some silly teenager who’d never been on a date. But as she reached for the knob, she realized that for all her talk, dinner with Diego was important to her. She might not know why, but she wanted it to go well.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the door with a smile and opened her mouth to give him a cheerful greeting.
The words got stuck in her throat.
Diego was dressed in casual slacks and an untucked button-down in a perfect blend of relaxed and dressy. The material of the shirt was tight enough in the shoulders to show off his muscles, and the couple buttons he’d left undone at the top revealed the start of some spectacular pecs. His hair was a bit disheveled, like he’d just crawled out of bed, and his jawline was perfectly scruffy.
The whole look—along with those soulful dark eyes of his—really worked for her. In fact, drooling wouldn’t be inappropriate at this moment.
“Wow. You look absolutely beautiful,” he said, his gaze slipping warmly over her body. “And I’m suddenly feeling way too underdressed.”
She laughed. “Not at all. You look amazing.”
He surprised her by flushing a little under his tan. Then, as if remembering he had something in his hands—which she didn’t realize herself until he held them out—he flashed her a grin.
“These are for you.”
Bree looked down to see him holding a bottle of red wine in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. She suddenly wondered if this was the universe’s way of making up for all the crappy things Dave had done. Because she couldn’t imagine how Diego could get any better.
“You brought flowers,” she said breathlessly, taking the beautiful arrangement of red, pink, yellow, and orange gerberas as she pointed out the obvious. “I won’t say you shouldn’t have because these are too gorgeous.”
Abruptly realizing she was standing in the doorway, gazing at the colorful flowers like a complete loser, she quickly stepped back, trying to play it cool and praying she didn’t start crying over the fact that a man had brought her flowers.
“Come on in,” she said.
Closing the door behind him, she led the way into the living room, where Beth was waiting with a satisfied smile on her face.
“Diego Martinez, my sister, Beth,” Bree announced as she headed for the kitchen with the bouquet.
/> As she trimmed the stems on the longer flowers and filled the crystal vase that had been collecting dust in the cabinet above her fridge, she listened to the conversation going on in the living room, praying her sister didn’t say anything to embarrass her. Fortunately, it sounded as if Beth had taken the earlier warning to heart and was behaving herself.
Bree finished up with the flowers as Beth scurried in, a ridiculously big smile on her face.
“You said he was attractive,” her sister whispered, leaning in close. “But you never mentioned he was a smokeshow. He’s unreal!”
No, she hadn’t. And yes, he was, Bree thought.
“Is that your way of saying you want to stay for dinner now?” she asked.
Beth shook her head with a laugh. “No, I’m going. But I expect a full recap of the date.”
Diego wandered into the kitchen as her sister left, lifting his head a little as he sniffed the air. “If my nose isn’t making things up, it smells like you’re making chicken parmesan. If so, the wine should go perfectly with it.”
She smiled as he set the bottle that she’d forgotten to grab from him earlier on the counter. It wasn’t her fault. The flowers had rattled her. He was right, she thought as she glanced at the label. She couldn’t have picked a better vintage if she tried.
“Does your nose ever trick you?” she asked, handing him a corkscrew.
He chuckled as he opened the bottle. Damn, he made something as simple as that sexy. “Not usually. I can smell a cream-filled doughnut a mile away.”
Bree paused in the middle of grabbing two wineglasses from an upper cabinet, wondering if he was messing with her. Then again, Brandon could smell the other werewolves at the SWAT compound yesterday, so maybe not. She was about to ask as the apartment door opened and Brandon came in with a clatter only a teenage boy could make. When she heard him talking to another teen boy a moment later, she realized he wasn’t alone.
