Stealing His Heart

by Bru Baker

  “My apartment was robbed, but you were heading the wrong way. I wanted to catch you before I had to wait another forty minutes for someone else to show up.”

  The guy gave him a long look. “You called dispatch?”

  “They said they were sending someone right out.”

  The cop laughed. “You could be waiting a lot longer.”

  Danny couldn’t help the way his lower lip trembled. He swallowed hard, but he knew the cop had scented his tears. The guy’s nostrils flared, and his face softened.

  “I’m coming off shift. I’ll come over and take a report. You live across the street?” he nodded toward Danny’s building. Mr. Rodriguez had come out, probably drawn by the screech of brakes and honking. He had his arms crossed, and he was looking right at Danny.

  “Let me call it in and tell dispatch I’m taking it,” the guy said.

  He walked back to the car, got in, and fiddled with the radio. Danny tuned it out, not wanting to hear how he might recount the story. It had been stupid to run blindly across the street like that. He’d just been so worried when the guy went the wrong way.

  After he finished with the radio, the guy got out and popped his trunk. His movements were sure and economical as he opened a safe and took out a scary looking black gun, which he strapped to his waist.

  “What unit?” he asked as he slammed the trunk shut.

  Danny gave him directions to his apartment, and the two of them crossed the street at a much more sedate pace than Danny’s first crossing. Mr. Rodriguez had disappeared by the time they reached the steps, which was the first thing that had gone Danny’s way all afternoon.

  “You stay out here while I clear the place. I’m sure the burglar’s long gone, but it doesn’t hurt to be safe.”

  Danny couldn’t help but watch as the man ran up the stairs. He had a superb ass. All of him was pretty superb, actually. Now that his panic was receding, Danny could actually appreciate the way the officer’s slacks and button-down couldn’t quite hide how nicely built he was. His face was attractive too.

  And he was supernatural. He’d sniffed out that Danny was a werewolf immediately, but Danny couldn’t place the officer’s scent. He definitely wasn’t a werewolf, and he wasn’t fae either. He smelled earthy, like a shifter, but not anything Danny could pin down.

  He’d had a gun. Did that mean he shifted into something that didn’t have claws? Though as a cop he wouldn’t be able to use them, so that’s probably why he had the gun.

  He heard the cop thundering down the stairs a few flights before he saw him, and he was ready when the man burst out of the door. He had stowed his gun, and he didn’t look nervous or upset. He motioned Danny up the stairs.

  Danny followed the detective inside.

  “No one was in your apartment, but it doesn’t hurt to make sure,” he told Danny over his shoulder. “You had a pretty flimsy lock on that door. It wouldn’t have taken much to break it.”

  The detective had moved the door aside instead of walking over it like Danny had. It was in pieces, and he had no idea what he was going to do about it. His super was useless, so Danny would have to figure out how to salvage the door until he could get someone to come by and put up a new one. God only knew how much that was going to cost him.

  “It doesn’t look like they tossed the place. Do you know what’s missing?”

  The lump in Danny’s throat grew. “A lot. I’m the director of the Janus Foundation, and I was storing things for the foundation here. We’d raised enough money to give each of the kids we work with a laptop or an iPad for the start of school.”

  The detective winced. “How many kids does your foundation serve?”

  “About forty,” Danny said. He hesitated, then looked up at the detective. “They’re all Supes. I have a network of social workers who refer kids. On paper the foundation serves hard-to-place kids in the foster system. Someday I hope we can fund a facility so these kids don’t have to go into the regular foster system, but I don’t have that kind of fundraising power right now. But social workers know when a kid is different, you know? And they refer them to me. Not all of the referrals are actually Supes, and those kids I refer on to other agencies that can help. But a good number of them are supernatural kids, and I work to get them placed with families that can handle them and get them the resources they need. Money for nymphs and dryads to go to summer camp up in Maine, grants for selkies and shifters to attend smaller private schools where their senses won’t get overwhelmed, or funds to retrofit a foster family’s house with insulated wiring so witchlings and mages can’t short-circuit it—that kind of stuff.”

  The detective looked stunned. “I had no idea. I mean, in my Pack, no kid would ever be left to the foster system. I can’t even imagine it.”

  Danny grimaced. “It’s totally against our instincts to let one of our Pack fend for themselves, but not all Supes belong to a functional Pack. Some of them get tossed out because a new Alpha takes over and the kid is a threat. With witchlings and mages, sometimes they’re surfacing after years of the bloodline being dormant, and parents don’t understand what’s going on. They think the kid is just trouble.”

  He’d never had a werewolf, but that was probably just because Weres didn’t actually go through the Turn and gain their supernatural abilities until the first full moon after their nineteenth birthday. Most shifters and other supernatural beings had their powers from birth. He couldn’t fathom what growing up that way would be like—he’d presented as 100 percent human until his Turn. All Were kids did. Scientists didn’t know why Weres were different, but he suspected it was some sort of biological coping mechanism. Weres were more common nowadays, probably because they’d developed the second puberty as a means to hide among humans.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t know about this.” The cop shook his head. “I mean, we’ve got a network of Supes on the force. We should be keeping an eye out for kids who need help.”

  Maybe this was the silver lining to this incredibly shitty day. Danny had a few ins with the police since two of his Pack members were officers, but maybe this guy could expand that.

  “If you’re serious about helping, we can set up a time to meet and talk about it. I’m always looking for new contacts.”

  “What are you going to do about the stuff that was stolen? Are you insured?”

  Danny winced. “No, not for something like that.”

  “Shit,” the detective muttered. He dug out his wallet and shoved a wad of cash at Danny. “It’s not much, but it’s a start. I’ll talk to my Pack about getting a donation together. Maybe you can raise enough money to replace the stolen stuff.”

  Danny felt awkward taking the money, but he shoved it in his pocket anyway. He wasn’t in the position to turn any help down.

  “I really appreciate that. Thank you. Is there any chance of getting my stuff back, do you think?”

  “Honestly? No. They’re long gone by now, and even if you found them in pawn shops there wouldn’t be a way to prove they were yours, not unless you have all the serial numbers.”

  Which he definitely didn’t. He hadn’t unwrapped any of them. He’d wanted the kids to know they were brand-new and not refurbished hand-me-downs. He was kicking himself for it now.

  “If you send me a list of everything that was stolen, I can get it in the official report, but it’s not going to do you much good. Even though this was a huge blow for you, it’s not really big enough for us to investigate. Not unless you have an idea of who might have done this. Who knew you were keeping them here?”

  “No one except my cousin Sloane, and she’s one of the donors.”

  That wasn’t exactly true, Danny realized. Joss, one of the older kids who was a regular at the day center, knew about them. He’d been there when Danny had signed for a big delivery, and he knew where Danny lived because he’d been the Janus Foundation’s first client, way back when Danny had been working out of this apartment, before the lease on the office was finalized. But
Joss would never do something like this. Would he?

  “Do you have a plan for securing that door?”

  Danny followed the detective’s gaze over to the open space where his door used to be.

  “No,” he admitted. Maybe he could use duct tape to put the door pieces back together? He could prop it up with a couple kitchen chairs.

  The detective sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll file what I got from you and hand it off to the officers who should have taken your statement in the first place. And then I’m going to call one of my brothers, and we’ll fix your door.”

  Danny gaped at him. “You don’t have to—”

  The detective cut him off with a sharp look. “I’m not going to leave you with an unsecured door in a neighborhood like this. And I’m not doing it as a cop. I’m doing it as a neighbor.”

  He held his hand out, and Danny took it. It was warm and soft, and the brief contact of their handshake was more comforting than Danny wanted to admit.

  “I’m Max, and I live across the street. It’s great to meet you. I’ll be back in about an hour to help with your door.”

  Chapter Two

  “LOOK, can you come or not? I need an extra set of hands to get this door fixed, and the guy doesn’t look like he’d know which end of a hammer is which. He’d probably end up breaking it even more.”

  Max should have asked one of his neighbors instead of calling Ray. All of his brothers were assholes, and Ray was no exception. But he was the closest and most likely to drop everything and come, which is why Max chose him.

  “Oh, I’ll be there. I haven’t heard you this hot and bothered by a guy in a long time.”

  Max’s face heated. “It’s not like that. He’s just some clueless kid who needs help. What was I supposed to do, let him live in that pit without a functioning door? The rest of his stuff would be stolen by morning.”

  Danny wasn’t a kid. Max had pulled his driver’s license when he filed the police report. Danny was two years younger than him, though with his baby face he looked more like twenty-two than thirty-two. Besides, he wasn’t Max’s type at all. His last boyfriend had been a CrossFit instructor, and the one before that was one of the firefighters from Ray’s station. Max didn’t go for boyishly handsome, slender guys like Danny. Not even ones who smelled irresistible.

  “How many burglary reports did you take before your hotshot promotion, hmm? And you stayed to fix all those doors too, right?”

  He had a point. Normally Max could close the figurative door on a case and walk away when his job was finished, but there was something different about this one. Maybe it was how clueless Danny was, or how upset he’d been.

  “He’s a Were,” Max said. “The Supe community should stick together.”

  Ray hummed noncommittally, and Max caved.

  “Okay, fine. Yes. He’s hot. And he needed my help, and I couldn’t just leave him there.”

  He held the phone away from his ear as Ray whooped and hollered.

  “So are you coming?”

  Max rooted around in his toolbox, cursing under his breath. He didn’t have enough screws for what he was planning.

  “Hell yes, I’m coming.”

  “Can you stop by the hardware store on your block? His door is in pieces, and I don’t have enough wood screws. Might need some plywood to reinforce it too.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. His building’s going to replace it, right? This is just to get him through the night?”

  Max had looked at that place when he’d been apartment hunting. It was in horrible shape, and there were several complaints on file with the housing board about the super refusing to fix things.

  “Probably not,” Max said. “He seemed to think replacing it was his responsibility.”

  “Gotcha,” Ray said. Keys jingled on the other end of the line. “On my way. Gimme thirty, maybe forty, and I’ll be there. Should I come to you or go right to his place?”

  “There. I’m heading over in a few. I’ll help him clean up, and we’ll see if the door is salvageable.”

  He gave Ray the address and ignored the way his brother teased him about his impatience to get back to Danny.

  Max rubbed at his chest, trying to chase away the unease that had settled there. Danny was a werewolf—he could take care of himself if need be. But something was pulling him back across the street.

  He gave in and grabbed his toolbox. Logically he knew Danny was fine, but his instincts were going crazy. He wanted to be there to protect him even though he knew there wasn’t any danger.

  Danny was sitting in the hallway outside his apartment when Max made his way back over, and the sight of him put Max on instant alert.

  “Something happen?”

  Danny looked up at him and shook his head. “No, it was just depressing being in there. And since I don’t have a door, I can’t leave, so the hallway was my only option.”

  Max walked past him into the apartment. “I’ll start getting cleaned up in here. My brother Ray will be here in a bit, and he’s going to help me with the door.”

  Danny trailed behind him and took a seat on a rickety chair at the table. “I really appreciate your help, Max.”

  “I couldn’t let you stay here without a door,” he said, aware how silly that sounded. He didn’t even know Danny. “Besides, it’s not a big deal.”

  “It is a big deal,” Danny said. His voice wavered, and he drew in on himself a bit. Max didn’t like the way it made him look small. “I don’t know anyone who’d be able to do this. I’d have to call a handyman or something and…. I-I’ll pay you for the supplies, of course. And dinner’s on me tonight.”

  Max glanced around. He’d gotten a vague impression of the place earlier when he’d cleared it, but now his gaze was drawn to the threadbare sofa and the kitchen table with duct tape on one of the metal legs. The walls were bare, and there were only a few knickknacks spread throughout the room. A single plate and cup sat in the dish drainer next to the chipped enamel sink, but aside from that there wasn’t much evidence that anyone lived here. He didn’t get the feeling a handyman would be an easy expense for Danny to swallow. Hell, he didn’t even look like he could afford to feed two shifters for dinner. Max would have to find a way to pay for it without insulting him.

  “Don’t thank me till we get it fixed,” he said, casting a sour look at the pieces of the door. “I’m not sure it’ll hold with what I’ve got planned.”

  “Even if it’s flimsy, it gives me time to bug the super. He’d fix it eventually.”

  Max heard the lie but didn’t press Danny on it. He played basketball with a few werewolves, and he knew that rule was the same in Were and shifter culture. Keep your ears and nose to yourself.

  He hated the thought of Danny here without a solid door. Hell, the thing was hollow—it had probably taken one good kick to shatter it. He needed something a lot sturdier living in a place like this.

  Max’s place across the street wasn’t much bigger, but it was in a lot better shape. He bet his rent was almost double too. At least he hoped Danny wasn’t paying anything close to what Max paid a month. He certainly wasn’t getting his money’s worth if he did.

  Ray called for him from five floors down, his tone low. Danny’s head snapped up too, and his brows furrowed.

  “That’s my brother,” Max explained. “He’s the youngest, and we dropped him on his head a lot. It explains the lack of manners.”

  Ray said something unflattering about Max, and Danny burst out laughing. “He’s very creative.”

  Max mumbled about younger siblings as he and Danny hurried downstairs.

  “I’m an only child,” Danny said softly. “I used to wish for a brother. My parents were too busy for one kid, let alone two. My cousin Sloane used to spend summers with us, and it was my favorite time of the year, having someone to hang out with. She’s five years younger than me, but she was the closest thing I had to a sibling so I never minded
having her around.”

  Max couldn’t imagine being an only child. “I have three brothers and two sisters. Some solitude would have been nice.”

  “Solitude wouldn’t have stopped and gotten you a door, asshole,” Ray yelled from the street.

  Max and Danny exchanged a look and hurried down the last flight of stairs. Danny’s nosy neighbor was standing at the door yelling at Ray for loitering, but he stopped when he saw Max.

  “You’re the cop from earlier, right? I caught this one casing the place.”

  Ray’s brows drew together. “You think I’m casing the place holding a gigantic door? Wouldn’t that make me a little conspicuous?”

  The man scowled at him.

  “I’m so sorry about him,” Danny cut in. He looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him. “Mr. Rodriguez, he’s here to help me. My door was kicked in by the burglar.”

  That only seemed to confirm to the old man that they were up to no good. He wagged a finger in Danny’s face.

  “Don’t think I won’t tell the super about this,” he muttered.

  “Hey, how about you tell him one of his tenants had a break-in and fixed the door himself instead of waiting for the deadbeat super to fix it?”

  The man scowled at Ray, who had poked his head around the door to snark at him.

  “Damn drug dealers,” the old man muttered as he slammed his door.

  “I’ll deal you a drug, you crotchety old bastard,” Ray muttered as he moved his grip on the door so he could walk into the entryway with it. “Your other neighbors that nice, kid?”

  “He’s the same age as you, kid,” Max snapped.

  Danny’s eyes widened at his tone, which made Max’s cheeks heat in embarrassment. Way to play it cool, Torres. Ray was already two flights up, cackling to himself, but luckily Danny hadn’t picked up on the taunt. Max would bet everything he owned that by the time he and Danny made it upstairs, Ray would have already texted the entire family that Max’s latest love interest was only one step from the cradle.

  Not that Danny was a love interest. He was just a guy who needed help.