by Lynn Hagen
Orlando nearly choked on his eggs. “Are you kidding? They’ll be ecstatic that I found my mate, no matter the gender or race or species. That’s how shifters roll, shorty. We’re blind to those things when it comes to mating, and my sister is gonna love the hell out of you.”
“Ugh.” Newt sat back and rolled his eyes skyward. “I hope my mom doesn’t embarrass me.”
“Why do you say that?” Orlando finished his breakfast and drained his cup of coffee. The bank opened in half an hour, and he wanted to be there first thing.
“Clearly you heard both sides of the conversation,” Newt said. “She’s insane.”
“No, she just cares deeply for you, and I don’t blame her one bit for the way she feels.” He tapped Newt’s plate. “Eat up. We have to be going soon.”
Newt took a piece of bacon and tossed it. Orlando hadn’t seen Max sitting behind his chair. The dog chomped the bacon down and then used his back paws to scoot closer, never raising his body from the floor.
“Don’t give him any rewards.” Orlando got up and took his plate to the sink, washing it before setting it in the rack. “He got into the trash.”
Max whimpered and looked toward the kitchen entrance.
“I think Baby Girl did it.” Newt took a bite of his toast and chewed before swallowing and continuing. “Max keeps looking for her every time you mention the trash. And he did help me clean it up.”
Orlando narrowed his eyes as he looked at Max and then at the kitchen doorway. “Maybe I should set up a camera so I can see what’s going on when I’m gone.”
Max shot up and whipped his head around to stare at Orlando as he whimpered.
Why did Newt have a feeling Max understood every word they were saying? Newt glanced at Orlando and saw his mate’s back turned to them. He got up and grabbed a piece of bacon from his plate and hurried into the living room.
Max followed.
Newt waved the bacon around. “I’ll give you this if you’re really a shifter, but you have to prove it.”
Max sat on his haunches, his tongue hanging out as his gaze followed the movement of the bacon. He licked his muzzle and panted, but that was all. Maybe Newt was finally losing his mind, but he was certain Max was more than he seemed.
“Are you sure you don’t want it?” he teased, taking a nibble. “Mmm, it’s sooo good.”
Max whimpered.
“Fine,” Newt said when he heard Orlando moving around the kitchen. “But I know there’s more to you than meets the eye, and I’ll figure you out.”
Newt turned to head back into the kitchen and swore he heard the dog grunt. He shook his head. He really was losing his mind if he thought Max was anything more than an average dog.
Chapter Eight
They arrived at the bank just as it opened. Newt gathered everything in his safety deposit box and handed the contents over to Orlando. When they reached the police station, Newt followed his mate into his office where Orlando placed the jewelry in a locked box and gave Newt a piece of paper to sign.
“It’s an itemized list of what you gave me,” he said. “I have an expert coming in this afternoon to tell us if this stuff is the real deal or, as your mother thought, simple trinkets.”
Newt kept looking toward the station doors, expecting armed men to burst in there at any second and open fire while demanding the box. His gaze swung left, and he spotted Pat behind his desk. The redhead smiled and waved, and Newt waved back.
“Pat really is a nice guy.” Orlando took a seat behind his desk and booted up his computer. “Although he gossips too damn much.”
Newt sat on one of the cushioned chairs in front of Orlando’s desk, tucked one of his legs under him, and pulled out his phone. “So we’re gonna wait for that expert?”
Orlando nodded. “I don’t want to leave the box unguarded, and I’m not gonna carry it around.”
“I still say this is all a waste of time.” Newt found a game on his phone and began to play it. The other things from his safety deposit box sat on Orlando’s desk—Newt’s birth certificate, his social security card, antique photos of his grandparents when they were young, and a marble encased in an intricately designed cheap silver cover that Doug had given to him when they were kids.
Newt had no idea why he’d held on to the marble. He should’ve thrown it away, but when he’d put his nana’s jewelry in the deposit box, Newt had dug the marble out of his pocket and tossed it in with the rest of the stuff.
Now that Newt knew the truth about Doug, he picked the marble off the desk and tossed it into the trash can. He no longer idolized his cousin. He didn’t wish he was like Doug, either. If he’d known the man’s true personality, would he have wasted his life trying to help him?
Sadly, what his mother said was true. Newt would’ve looked at Doug and thought of him as he had when they were little. He would’ve tried to fix him and most likely thrown his life away in the process.
Newt looked at his phone when it chimed. His mother had texted him telling Newt that they were less than thirty minutes away.
He texted her back and told her to meet him at the police station. She texted him back a thumbs-up.
As Orlando typed away on his computer, Newt went back to his game. His head shot up when he heard a loud slam. Three armed men stormed into the station and fired toward the ceiling, shouting for everyone to get down.
Newt sat there frozen, strangling his phone with his hands. He couldn’t breathe as he watched deputies jump up from their desks and pull their weapons, but the guy on the right—all three were wearing masks—shot two of the deputies.
Orlando jerked up from his chair and yanked Newt to the floor, shoving him under the desk. “Stay put.”
Newt nodded numbly as he scooted back as far as he could go. When Orlando stood, Newt grabbed his ankle. “You can’t go out there! They have automatic weapons.”
Orlando narrowed his eyes at him. “I am a weapon.”
“They’ll shoot your wolf,” Newt cried. “Please, don’t go.”
Newt was terrified that Orlando would storm from the office and be gunned down. His mate might be a shifter, but he wasn’t immortal. They’d been together only a few days, but Newt wanted a lifetime with the guy. He could no longer imagine his life without Orlando in it.
Orlando hunched down and moved to the cabinet against the wall as the men demanded Newt be brought to them. Orlando opened the doors on the bottom of the cabinet and retrieved a matte black shotgun that looked as though it could take down an elephant.
“I thought all the weapons were locked up,” Newt whispered.
“Not Betsy.” Orlando moved back to the desk.
“You named your shotgun?” Newt looked toward the front entrance, and his stomach plummeted as if he’d just gone down the steep side of a roller coaster. One of the gunmen had his arm wrapped around Pat’s shoulders, the barrel of a handgun pressed against his temple.
There weren’t enough cops to help the fox shifter. The station was half empty. It was still early, and only a handful of deputies were there. Newt didn’t see Vince, Dillon, or Jacoby. They must not have had morning duty.
“Bring Newton to me!” The middle man raised his rifle, and a spray of bullets riddled the ceiling with even more holes. “If you don’t, Red is gonna die!”
There was no way Newt could allow Pat to be killed. He didn’t care if the jewelry was worth millions. The gunmen could have the box if that saved Pat’s life.
“Give him the box,” he whispered to Orlando.
His mate shook his head. “We give them what they want and they’ll plaster Pat’s brains all over the wall and more than likely kill everyone else in the squad room.”
Newt would’ve asked why the deputies didn’t just shift, but they would be up against men with deadly weapons and wouldn’t stand a chance.
What the hell were they supposed to do? Newt couldn’t stay hidden for very long. One of the armed men would come to Orlando’s office and discover him.
<
br /> Unaware of the situation, Dillon walked in through the front doors, only to get shot in the chest. The deputy went down as Newt screamed and tried to scramble from under the desk, but Orlando shoved him back.
They were never going to make it out of there alive.
* * * *
Bored out of his mind—and unable to track Baby Girl down to pay her back for getting him into trouble—Max strode into the den and turned the police scanner on. He dropped onto the couch, tucking his hands behind his head as he crossed his ankles, hoping to hear Dillon.
The man had such a sexy voice.
He also thought about Newt. If the human thought he could trick him into shifting for a piece of delicious and savory bacon, he had another think coming. Max knew that if he held out Newt would eventually give in to him. But the guy was suspicious, and Max had to be more careful. He also needed to kick Baby Girl’s ass. Because of her, Orlando was considering putting a camera up, and if that happened, Max wouldn’t be able to sneak into the kitchen to get something to eat.
He jackknifed when he heard codes being shouted over the airway. He didn’t understand half of them but caught the gist of what was going on.
There were armed men at the police station, and some of the cops had been shot. Max’s heart seized in his chest as he ran to the kitchen door, shifting midstride and rushed out the doggy door, racing toward town.
* * * *
“Get out of my way!”
Vince had no idea who this woman was, but he was catching hell trying to keep her from storming into the station. “Ma’am, you can’t go in there. We have a situation, and it’s critical that you get back into your car and leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She glared at him. “My son is in there, and I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to him.”
“Who’s your son?”
“Newton Bradley.” She looked toward the front entrance, and Vince saw the sheer terror in her blue-gray eyes. “He told me to meet him here, and I demand you tell me what’s going on.”
“Why don’t you follow me and I’ll fill you in?” Jacoby said, coming in with the save.
Vince already had too much to handle without dealing with an understandably irate woman. He watched as an ambulance drove up and parked across the street.
No medics would get out until either the men who’d been shot were brought out of the building or the gunmen were taken care of. It wasn’t the paramedics’ job to secure the scene. It was Vince’s since his boss was inside. Dillon had gone in just before Vince had gotten a text from one of the deputies in the station. By then it was too late to stop his best friend.
What was eating Vince the most was the fact he’d heard gunfire seconds after Dillon had gone inside. How many were dead, and how many were wounded? Did this have anything to do with the case they’d been working on?
Vince hadn’t been on the force that long, and he was still green when it came to hostage situations. Although Vince hated when the wolves from the Den stuck their noses in police business, he was relieved to see Maverick climbing out of his truck and heading Vince’s way. Hawk and Kota pulled in behind their alpha and got out.
“Tell me what you know.” Maverick looked toward the station. The deputies who hadn't been on duty were there, policing the flow of traffic and making sure no one came too close.
Vince could use all the help he could get. He showed Maverick his phone. Not only had Deputy Myers sent Vince a quick text but he’d also snapped a picture of the three masked gunmen and sent it to him.
He told the alpha about their theory as far as Newt was concerned and that Newt and the sheriff were inside. He nodded toward Mr. and Mrs. Bradley. “That’s Newt’s folks.”
Maverick handed the phone back. “Do you mind if I take it from here?”
“It’s your town, sir.”
“But this is your show to run,” Maverick said. “I don’t want to step on your toes.”
The guy was being polite and respectful. “I appreciate that you’re trying not to take this from me, but if you don’t mind, can we work this together?”
Maverick nodded. “Hawk, get Cody and Micah. Have them infiltrate the station from the back where the cells are located so we can see what’s going on inside.” He turned to Vince. “Anyone out here a good sniper?”
“That would be me,” Vince said with a little pride in his voice. “But I don’t have my rifle with me.”
Maverick looked over his shoulder. “Remi, get my rifle out of my truck.”
Vince caught himself from snarling at the sight of Remi. This situation was too critical, and Remi looked in serious mode.
“Okay,” Maverick said to Vince. “This is what we’re gonna do.”
* * * *
Cody used the key Vince had given him and eased the back door open, praying the gunmen were human so they wouldn’t hear the squeak. Thankfully there were no prisoners in the cells, but if everything went right, the three up front would occupy them.
They stopped at the door that led into the squad room.
“Do you hear anything?”
Cody looked incredulously at Micah as he waved a hand between their heads. “Dude, we have the same shifter hearing. What you hear, I’m hearing.”
“You don’t have to be a prick about it,” Micah growled.
Cody dropped to his belly and looked past the gap between the door and the floor. All he saw were feet and two dead cops lying face down.
Cody cursed under his breath. He knew the dead guys, not personally, but that was no way to go out. They’d been shot in the head, and there was no coming back from that.
He moved to his left and swung his gaze toward the sheriff’s office, spotting Newt tucked under the desk. He knew the guy from the nursing home where Cody volunteered some of his time.
Scooting back, he pulled his cell phone out and texted Maverick, telling him there were three gunmen—Cody had calculated that from the three sets of boots—and that two officers were dead. He also told his alpha that the assailants were by the front door.
That was all Cody needed to do. His job was done, but he couldn’t make himself leave. Not when there were still innocents inside.
* * * *
Orlando spotted one of the men heading toward his office. The man holding Pat had let the fox shifter go. Why? Orlando hadn’t a clue but was glad Pat was no longer being held at gunpoint. Pat had scrambled behind his desk and could no longer be seen. Orlando hoped the guy ran into the men’s room to keep himself safe.
When the assailant opened his office door, Orlando rose to his feet and blasted the bastard with Betsy. The guy flew back, crashing into one of the desks out in the squad room.
Then all hell broke loose. Red smoke filled the interior of the station. The sound of gunfire erupting was deafening. Orlando pulled his work shirt off, then his white T-shirt, wrapping the T-shirt around Newt’s face to cover his nose and mouth.
“Stay with me.” He grabbed Newt’s hand, dragged him from under the desk, and raced toward the door leading to the cells. When he shoved it open, Cody and Micah were there.
“Take him outside!” He shoved Newt into Cody’s arms. “Keep him safe.”
With a nod, Cody ran toward the back exit, but Newt struggled in Cody’s arms. “No! I’m not leaving you,” he screamed, but Cody dragged him outside as Micah followed Orlando into the squad room.
“Check to see if anyone needs help,” he said to Micah.
Orlando was determined to take down the last two gunmen. Fuck locking them up. They’d killed two of his officers, and Orlando would make them pay.
But he couldn’t see his hand in front of him, let alone who was near. Orlando went to the front entrance and slammed the doors open, trying to clear the air.
The smoke poured outside, making it easier to see as the breeze swirled inside and sucked the smoke from the building. Orlando spotted one of the masked men hunched down by Pat’s desk, clearly waiting to see well enough so he could get o
ut of there.
Instead of using Betsy, Orlando grabbed the son of a bitch and slammed his fist into the guy’s face. He felt satisfaction when he heard bones break, but that would never be enough for the lost lives.
“Who sent you?” Orlando snarled at the guy as he disarmed him, throwing his rifle toward the front entrance.
“Fuck you.” The guy spit in Orlando’s face.
Orlando slugged him again, his fist power-driving into the man’s gut. He heard a whoosh of air, and then the guy wheezed as he tried to curl into a ball.
“Who the fuck sent you?”
The gunman tried to fight Orlando, tried to get Orlando to release his hold, but the only way he’d release the guy was if his hand was cut off. Orlando was getting the answers he wanted.
He raised his fist again, and the guy held his hands up. “I don’t know! We’ve never met him. I swear!”
“Then how did you get this contract?”
The guy’s nose was broken. Blood covered the lower half of his face as he swallowed repeatedly. “He contacted me by email and wired the money into my account.”
Orlando dragged the guy around Pat’s desk and searched for a pen and paper. When he found it, he pointed to the desk. “Write down your account number.”
Hopefully Orlando could have the deposit traced. He believed Newt’s cousin was behind this, but on the off chance that he wasn’t, Orlando needed the lead.
The guy scribbled the numbers down. When he dropped the pen, Orlando dragged him back toward the cells. He was enraged but knew he couldn’t kill the man in cold blood.
The guy twisted, catching Orlando off guard. The stranger went for Betsy that was still clutched in Orlando’s other hand, but he missed and fell to the floor. He shoved to his feet and came at Orlando.
A shot rang out, and the gunman hit the floor. He was dead. Orlando spun, holding Betsy up as he looked around, but he didn’t see anyone.
The room filled with Maverick’s men, including the alpha, but their search didn’t produce the third guy. Somehow, in the chaos, he’d gotten away.