by Lynn Hagen
“Keep your voice down,” Vince argued.
Dillon wanted to say fuck Remi, but he knew better. Disrespecting Maverick’s wolves wouldn’t go over well with Werth. He’d chew Dillon a new ass and probably park him at a desk for a month.
They finished their perimeter search but came up empty-handed. Dillon took off while Vince stayed behind to keep an eye on the sheriff until their boss headed into work.
* * * *
Max trotted to the window and jumped up, pressing his paws against the windowpane as he watched Orlando and Newt drive away. As soon as they were gone, he shifted into his human form and stretched and then walked to the kitchen to find something decent to eat as he scratched at the collar around his neck.
When he was in dog form, the food Orlando fed him was fine. Max could deal with it. But there was nothing like a good steak. He just couldn’t eat anything that Orlando would notice was missing, so he settled on some nutritional bars stashed in the pantry.
As he ate them, he wandered outside. Just like Newt had, Max had scented a stranger by the back door earlier. The smell belonged to a wolf. Max was sure of it. When he didn’t see anyone out there, not that he wanted to, he headed back inside and closed the door.
Baby Girl strolled into the kitchen and hissed at him.
“Nice to see you, too, prissy bitch.” Max tossed the wrappers into the trash. “You’d get a lot more loving if you weren’t so finicky.”
Max enjoyed the pets and scratches Orlando gave him, but what he really loved was when Dillon touched him. God, that man was sexy with a side of lust. Too bad he couldn’t reveal himself to Dillon and ask the deputy to rub other parts of his body.
But Max was in hiding, and if Taren Haynes ever caught up to him, Max was finished. Which made him think of Newt. That poor guy. He wanted to protect Newt, but even though he was a German shepherd, Max was a complete coward. In his dog form, he was a nice size, but when in his human form, he wasn’t that much bigger than Newt. What word did the humans use? Oh yeah, twink. That was Max in a nutshell.
He also hated the fact that Newt was terrified of him. Max might’ve been a tad pushy, but he wanted the human to like him.
Max walked to the guest bedroom where he kept his supply of scent-masking potion. The nasty-tasting crap not only helped him hide from Taren it also stopped Orlando and the others from scenting he was a shifter. He gulped down a swallow, gagged, and then replaced it under the floorboard in the closet.
Max snapped his head around when he heard a noise. He shifted into his dog form and moved slowly toward the front of the house. If he could have rolled his eyes, he would have.
Stupid cat was on the kitchen counter. If Orlando saw her, he’d have a fit. That was why she only did it when their owner was gone.
If Orlando ever found out about him, Max was snitching on Baby Girl and all the crap she did when he wasn’t home—like bringing dead mice into the house, which, by the way, Max got rid of before Orlando got home.
Max padded to the den and curled up on his bed, yawning before he settled and thought of that sexy deputy petting him in all the right places.
Too bad he could never tell Dillon that they were mates. That would put Dillon in harm’s way, and Max would die before he let anything happen to him.
Chapter Five
When they stepped out of the house, Orlando scented not only two of his deputies but timber wolves. He looked around but didn’t see anyone as he held the passenger door of his dark gray Jeep Cherokee open for Newt to climb in.
“It’s a bit chilly out this morning.” Newt settled in his seat. After their blowjob session, Newt had dressed in a pair of relaxed jeans and a sweater that made the blue-gray of his eyes stand out.
“I’ll get the Jeep warmed up quickly,” Orlando said as he closed the door.
He did one last scan before he hopped in and started the engine.
“Can we stop by my house on the way?” Newt buckled himself in. “I have to be to work in an hour, and I don’t have my scrubs.”
“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t work right now.”
“That sounds all well and good, but my bills won’t take a break. Besides, I didn’t even call Carla to tell her I would be late. She’s gonna be peeved with me.”
“You have someone after you,” Orlando reminded him, although he wasn’t sure if that person was after Newt himself, or something else. “What if they show up at your job?”
Newt turned and looked at him, his brows furrowed. “You think he’d do that?”
Was his mate for real? “They broke into your house and fired at police officers. If they were that bold, I wouldn’t doubt the guy coming after you at work.”
Newt stared quietly out the window for several seconds. “I still want to stop at my house and grab a few things.”
Since the techs had already processed the scene, Orlando didn’t see the harm.
“And now you can explain things to me,” Newt said. “You told me on the drive to work, and we’re on the drive to the police station.”
Orlando wanted Newt to know everything but dreaded telling him at the same time. He didn’t want the guy having a meltdown. His mate seemed to be adjusting. He’d even petted Max on the head before they’d walked out, which was a damn miracle. Then again, Max had blocked the doorway until he’d gotten some loving from Newt.
Orlando had never seen his German shepherd act that way before. If he didn't know better, he’d say his dog was a shifter. But Max smelled like pure animal. He’d just lost his mind when it came to Newt.
And Dillon.
“I did say mates when I was talking about my sister,” Orlando admitted.
“And you tried to treat me like an idiot,” Newt huffed.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I knew you weren’t ready to hear the truth.” Instead of heading straight into town, Orlando turned left on Churchill Road, making a side trip down the backroad for the things Newt wanted to grab.
“So she really does have pups?” Newt asked. “If you’re a wolf, then she’s a wolf, right?”
Orlando nodded.
“Did she actually give birth to puppies, or did she have a regular baby?”
Orlando chuckled. “She gave birth to twins, and they came out as babies.”
Newt made a face like he’d just sucked a lemon. “I just imagined her pushing out puppies. Please don’t ever make me think about that again.”
Orlando’s chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh. He’d have to remember to tell Nadine about that. She would get a kick out of Newt. He was delightful and charming, and sexy as fuck. Orlando forced himself to keep his hands on the steering wheel, although he wanted to run his right hand over his mate’s thigh and places just as close.
It had taken everything in him not to fuck Newt this morning. Orlando had been close to giving in, but he’d be damned if he claimed Newt without his mate being fully informed. He didn’t want any regrets or mistrust between them. Not that he thought Newt would regret their bonding, but why take that chance?
“Why? Because you had to think about a woman’s—”
“Oh my god! Stop!” Newt shoved at Orlando’s arm, making Orlando laugh even harder. “If you give me any more graphic images to think of, I’m gonna kick you in your balls.”
“Do you even know what a woman’s—”
Newt slapped his hand over Orlando’s mouth and shook his head. “One more word about a woman’s nether region and I’m gonna get out and walk the rest of the way home.”
Orlando licked Newt’s hand. Newt pulled it back and grimaced and then wiped his hand on his pants. “You’re gross.”
“You weren’t saying that when my tongue was licking your dick.” Orlando’s heart melted as Newt’s face caught fire. The guy was a beast when it came to sex, but talking about the subject clearly embarrassed him.
Orlando pulled his Cherokee in front of Newt’s house. “I’m gonna go in and check the place out.”
“Then you’ll be lea
ving me alone out here,” Newt said.
With a grunt, Orlando said, “Fine, but stay right behind me, got that?”
* * * *
With a nod, Newt got out and followed the sheriff inside. What he found made him cry out before he pressed a hand over his mouth. The interior of his home was destroyed and not just with broken furniture and his belongings thrown about. There were actual holes in the wall, and the floorboards looked like they had been chewed up with a crowbar.
His home hadn’t looked like this yesterday. Had the intruders come back and hacked his house apart?
The destruction followed them all the way to Newt’s bedroom, which looked as though it had suffered the worst. His bed was overturned, and the floorboards underneath were destroyed. His closet doors had been unhinged and tossed aside. The entire wall in the closet was gone, the plaster lying in clumps of dust on the floor. Even his dresser was overturned, the drawers thrown in every direction.
Newt didn’t know how to react. He wanted to cry, get angry, and scream all at the same time. But he simply stood in the rubble of his room as his gaze landed on every inch of it.
He felt violated all over again.
Newt spotted his scrubs and pulled them from under one of the dresser drawers, clutching them to his chest as he spun and walked out of the room. He barely registered Orlando talking on his phone. Why on earth would someone do this? What had they been looking for? Newt hadn’t the first clue.
He didn’t own anything valuable. Not even a laptop. He couldn’t afford any luxuries on his budget. So why on earth did someone try to demolish his home? Newt was beyond thankful that Orlando had insisted he leave last night. What if Newt had been here when the bad guys returned?
“We’re heading to the station.” Orlando gripped Newt’s elbow in a gentle hold and guided him outside. It was then that tears stung his eyes. He let Orlando take him to the Jeep and settle him inside. Newt stared at his home, and it no longer represented tranquility and safety. The house seemed cold and foreign to him. He’d been violated all over again, and Newt never wanted to step foot back in there again.
And how in the hell was he going to explain the destruction to his landlord? Mr. Chapman would have a heart attack on the state of his property.
Did renters insurance cover this kind of vandalism?
They drove to the station in silence as Newt continued to hug his scrubs, his mind bouncing all over the place. When they arrived, Newt got out, feeling detached as he walked inside.
The station was one large room, with a large windowed office toward the back and on the left. In the middle of the back wall was a door. To the right was a small kitchen area, with a counter and cupboards. On the counter was a coffee station area, a microwave, and to the right of the counter, a fridge.
The space between the front entrance and the back wall were filled with desks. And up front was what Newt supposed was the reception desk sitting on the right-hand side. The desk was larger than the others, and a guy sat behind it sipping coffee.
The nameplate read: Patrick Moore.
This was the guy who had talked to Newt while the intruders had been in Newt’s house. He had pictured Patrick differently. On the phone his voice had been soothing and gentle. Newt had imagined him having blond hair, blue eyes, tall, and built like a quarterback. The real Patrick was of average height, slim, and he had red hair and green eyes.
“Hey, Pat,” Orlando said. “Would you mind keeping Mr. Bradley company while I talk with a few deputies?”
Pat’s eyes widened as he set his cup down and jumped from his chair. He circled his desk and gave Newt a tight hug. “I’m so glad to meet you finally.” Pat pulled back, blushing. “Sorry, I don’t normally hug people, but I was so worried about you last night.”
Pat still had that same gentle and soothing voice, which helped Newt relax. “Thank you for being there for me.”
Pat grabbed Newt’s hand and led him toward the back, where he poured Newt some coffee. “I would say it’s my job, but I actually wanted to run to your house and save you from those men myself. I was terrified for you.”
“You and me both.” Newt accepted the cup of coffee from Pat and took a sip. It wasn’t the best coffee in the world, but it wasn’t the worst, either. The bitter taste told him the coffee machine could probably use a good cleaning.
Tucking his scrubs under his left arm, Newt grabbed the creamer and sugar, hoping the sweetness improved the taste. It did, but not by much.
“I’d give you a tour, but this is pretty much it.” Pat waved a hand at the squad room. “We underwent heavy renovations a few years back, and the station was turned into an open area.” He pointed to the door between the office and the kitchen. “Back there are the cells and a storage room. We have four cells, but they’re empty right now. Unless you’re curious what a holding area looks like.”
“Not really.”
“Then we can chill at my desk,” Pat said. “I’ll grab a chair if you want to meet me up there.”
Newt really liked the guy. Pat was sweet, considerate, and had been a lifeline when Newt had needed one. He wasn't sure how he’d ever repay Pat for saving his sanity while his home was being invaded.
Newt looked around for Orlando. The sheriff was in the glass-and-wood office, talking with Dillon and another deputy Newt didn’t know.
“That’s detective Carmine Bianchi,” Pat said. “He’s been here way before I started.”
The guy was buff, dark-haired, and sexy.
“His boyfriend’s name is Turi, and he’s the cutest little thing.” Pat set the folding chair next to his then sat in his own seat. Newt sat down and looked around the room. There had to be at least a dozen desks, and half were occupied. The only person—aside from Dillon and Orlando—that Newt recognized was Detective Lewis Keating.
“How are you feeling?” Pat laid his hand on Newt’s arm. “Do you want to talk about what happened last night? I know you don’t know me, but I’m an awesome listener.”
Newt already knew that. He started to tell Pat that he was fine, but when he opened his mouth, instead, he told the guy about what he'd found when he’d gone home today.
“Oh my.” Pat’s red brows shot up. “Why would someone do that?”
“That’s what I asked myself,” Newt admitted. He glanced at the office again, unable to stop staring at the sheriff. At Orlando’s house, the man seemed relaxed and easy to talk to. But, dressed in uniform and talking to his men, Orlando bled authority.
Pat rested his chin on his hand. “Isn’t the sheriff just dreamy?”
Newt’s brows shot up. “You got the hots for the sheriff?”
Pat snorted. “Honey, I have the hots for every man who works here. Have you actually looked at them? They’re all walking wet dreams. But I’ve never slept with any of them, nor would I. You don’t mix business with pleasure. But having eye candy to stare at all day is a nice perk.”
Wow. Pat had no filter. Newt couldn’t believe the guy was talking like they were best friends instead of strangers.
Newt looked back at Orlando and then noticed a door to the left of the office. “Where does that lead to?”
“A small hallway. One room we use for interviews, and the other is where the guns and other things are kept, like the stuff the crime scene tech uses. Everything is locked up tight, so don’t go getting any ideas.”
Newt turned to look at Pat, ready to tell him he had no intentions of going in there, but he saw the glint of humor in his green eyes. “I promise not to steal a set of handcuffs.”
Pat winked. “Handcuffs can be nice under certain circumstances.”
Newt felt his face catch fire as he looked in Orlando’s direction.
“But if you’re interested in using them on the sheriff, you might need to special order a pair because his wrists are probably too big for normal-sized cuffs.”
Could Newt’s face feel any hotter? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” P
at sniffed Newt. “You smell just like him.”
“Are you always this intrusive?” Newt leaned back, wondering if Pat was a shifter.
Pat furrowed his brows. “Not really, but for some strange reason, with you, I’m acting like a damn gossiping teenager. Did you put something in my coffee?”
Newt chuckled. “You’re a very sweet and strange man.”
“Fox shifter,” Pat corrected. “I’m assuming you know about our world, but if you don’t, forget I said that.”
Newt set his scrubs on his lap and curled his hands around his coffee mug, ingesting Pat’s revelation.
Thankfully he didn’t pass out.
“Do you know about mates?” Orlando hadn’t gotten around to telling him, and Newt was curious as hell.
“Sure do.” Pat looked proud. “But you have to promise not to tell anyone anything I tell you.”
“I promise.” Newt set his mug down and scooted his chair closer.
“A mate is someone fated to be with a shifter. It could be another shifter or a human. Shifters will know when they find their mate because they’ll feel the pull. It’s”—Pat waved his hands toward his chest—“something you feel deep down inside of you, a sensation that pulls you toward that person no matter what. Or that’s what I’ve heard since I’ve never run across mine.”
“I think I understand,” Newt said.
“Mates are forever,” Pat continued. “A shifter will never let his mate want for nothing, and his mate’s happiness and well-being will always come first.”
“That sounds like a romantic fairytale,” Newt said.
“Right!” Pat sighed. “If only I could find mine.”
Newt wished he had a shifter out there that was meant for him. Orlando’s world was scary, but what Pat described sounded heavenly. “Does it feel like you’ve known that person your whole life even if you’ve just met him?”
Pat studied him. “Why, do you feel that way toward someone?”
Newt once again glanced in Orlando’s direction. “Maybe.”
“Sheriff Werth?” Pat’s asked.