by Paige Tyler
Malone immediately relaxed in his grip while Martinez, Delaney, and Lowry took a few steps back.
Gage held on to his lead sniper until the man had completely shed any vestige of his wolf form. By the time he turned to look at the other three, they had shifted back, too. There was no evidence of the werewolves they’d been—except for the bloody claw marks covering their bodies and shredding their uniforms. Gage didn’t shift back. He wanted them to get a good look at his yellow-gold eyes and gleaming fangs.
“What the hell is wrong with the four of you?” he demanded. “I walk in here expecting to find a team of professional cops, and instead I find you acting like a bunch of freaking out-of-control Chihuahuas.” He pointedly looked around the room at the broken mirrors, crushed weight benches, and torn mats. “We paid to renovate this weight room out of our own pockets and you’ve wrecked it with your bullshit. Somebody here better start talking fast or I’m going to give in to my first instinct and have you all transferred to bicycle patrol handing out parking tickets downtown.”
“They started it, Sarg.” To his credit, Delaney actually looked a little chagrinned at all the damage they’d done. “Martinez and I were talking about him getting shot in the arm, and Lowry said it happened because we didn’t know what the hell we were doing.”
Gage stared menacingly at Delaney. “The four of you tore up pack property because the new guy was trying to get under your skin?”
“That’s not the way it went down, Sarg,” Lowry protested.
“No?” Gage hoped like hell this new pup wasn’t about to say something that was going to get him buried. “So, how did it go down? Please tell me.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Gage saw Brooks and Nelson exchange a worried look. Like they thought he might snap someone’s neck. He’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. He’d never do it, of course.
Unfortunately, these kinds of brawls happened a lot. Regardless of the formal rank structure placed on them by the Dallas PD, his wolves were constantly challenging the pecking order within the Pack as each cop tried to outperform the other and each squad tried to make its group look better. With all the new guys he’d brought in over the years, he shouldn’t be surprised the issue had come to a head again. Well, he was going to nip this competition shit in the bud right now. His team would be one, well-oiled unit, or he’d tear it down and start over.
“So?” he prompted Lowry again.
Lowry swallowed hard. Gage knew the man wasn’t actually afraid of him, but he was the unchallenged alpha of the Pack, and whether the younger guys knew it or not, that position came with a certain amount of inherent control over the other pack members. Standing this close to his pissed-off lead alpha, Lowry probably felt seriously uneasy for the first time in his life. Gage hated making any of his men feel that way, but he’d learned he had to either lead them by force of will or learn to live with chaos.
Gage didn’t like chaos.
“It’s was nothing, Sarg,” Lowry finally conceded. “We were just messing around and things got out of hand. It won’t happen again.”
Gage held him there until he was sure all four of them had firmly received the message. Then he lowered Delaney to the floor.
“No, it won’t happen again,” he agreed. “Because I’m breaking up your teams. Lowry, when Mike gets back, let him know you’ve been reassigned to Xander’s team, and that Delaney’s going to be your entry buddy. I want him to put you two shoulder-to-shoulder on every mission from this day forward.”
Gage ignored the look of shock on Lowry’s face and turned to look at Martinez. “I assume you got that arm looked at before you decided to get in a fight?”
The stocky man flexed his injured arm. “Yeah. Trevino fixed me up the moment we got back. It’s fine.”
“Good,” Gage said. “Because you’ll be taking Lowry’s spot on Mike’s team. Same thing applies—you’ll be tied to Malone every time the two of you walk through a hostile doorway.”
Martinez opened his mouth to argue, but Gage silenced him with a glare. Malone, on the other hand, was too fuzzy from his recent near-shift to keep his trap shut.
“But, Sarg, I’m your best sniper. I don’t usually go through doors.”
“You do now,” Gage told him. “So, I suggest you spend a lot of time with your new entry buddy and learn real fast.”
“Sarg, you can’t do this,” Delaney said. “We know we screwed up and we’ll fix everything, I swear. But you can’t break up Martinez and me—we’ve been on the same team for more than three years.”
“Then you’ll be able to bring Lowry up to speed on Xander’s tactics.”
“But Sarg—”
“Have you ever seen how tight the shorts are on those bike cops?” Gage asked.
Delaney snapped his mouth shut.
Gage looked at Brooks and Nelson. “Next time I expect you two to get in the middle of a fight and break it up—or you’ll be wearing the bike shorts. And I’m not sure they make any in your size, Brooks.”
The big African American shifted from one foot to the other. The ex–college fullback was probably envisioning himself in tight blue shorts and perched on a bicycle. Apparently, it wasn’t a very pretty image.
“Sure thing, Sergeant.”
“Good.” Gage jerked his head at the four junior officers. “Make sure they get those wounds cleaned up right before they start to heal. And make sure Martinez didn’t rip his open again.”
All he needed was for Martinez to be the first werewolf who got an infection. Going to the hospital really wasn’t something werewolves preferred to do.
Gage started for the door, then stopped and turned back to them. “And get this mess cleaned up. I want everyone in the classroom in fifteen minutes.”
He didn’t need to see his men’s scowls to know he wasn’t their favorite person right now. It made him wonder what they were going to think of him when he told them about Mackenzie Stone.
* * *
“Xander isn’t getting jacked up,” Gage said for the third time.
He’d started their all-call meeting with a quick briefing of the hostage situation earlier, then touched on the detailed level of questioning he and Xander had gone through downtown. At least he’d planned on it being brief. He wanted to get to the real reason he’d called everyone together—Mackenzie Stone—but he couldn’t get the team to focus on anything other than Internal Affairs grilling one of their own.
“Then why is IA still questioning him?” Remy Boudreaux asked, a trace of his Louisiana accent coming through.
Gage suppressed a growl. Sometimes his guys were bigger conspiracy nuts than Mulder and Scully. “They’re just going over his statement to make sure there aren’t any inconsistencies that could end up in a lawsuit. They’re trying to help him, not screw him. Besides, he’s probably already on his way back.”
“Then if you didn’t call us here to talk about Xander, what’s this about?” Martinez asked.
Gage was pleased to see the cop sitting beside his new best buddy, Malone. On the other side of the room, Delaney and Lowry were doing the same. Maybe they had the ability to overcome their petty squabbles faster than he’d given them credit for.
“Yeah, Sarg.” Mike was lounging back in his chair, a knowing smile on his face. “What are we here to talk about?”
Gage scowled at his squad leader. Mike wasn’t going to cut him a break, damn him. And while the rest of the guys might not know what was going on, they’d definitely picked up on the strange vibe. Well, everyone except for Cooper. He was reading a damn comic book.
“I wanted to tell you that we’ll be having a visitor hanging around the compound for the next few days,” Gage said.
“What kind of visitor?” Cooper asked, raising his gaze from his comic book long enough to show he was capable of multitasking.
Oh hel
l, no way to avoid this. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid. “A reporter from the Dallas Daily Star—Mackenzie Stone.”
Gage waited, expecting an immediate firestorm of negative comments. But his announcement was met with complete silence. Though whether that silence was because they were stunned or just indifferent, he couldn’t tell.
“I’ve seen her picture,” Becker said. “She’s really hot.”
Okay, that wasn’t the comment he expected. Then again, this was Becker. The information tech and electronic surveillance expert always said the first thing that came to his mind. As if to prove his point, Becker pulled out his iPhone and quickly found a picture of the journalist to show the other guys. They took one look at her photo and agreed that Ms. Stone was “smokin’.” Damn, sometimes they could be so shallow.
Cooper passed the phone back to Becker. “Isn’t Mackenzie Stone known for her in-depth investigative stories, ones usually involving corrupt politicians or major crime figures? What does she want with us?”
The rest of the unit stopped debating about whether Mackenzie Stone had a boyfriend or not to give Gage a worried look. For all the trouble they caused him with the bickering, the fighting, and the constant effort to move up the Pack’s command structure, they trusted him to protect and keep hidden the one thing they cared about—their identity as werewolves. Because if they were scared of anything, it was being exposed for what they really were.
Gage sat on the edge of the desk at the front of the room. “Ms. Stone said she wants to see how we operate so she can write a story on how we work together as a team.”
“Do you believe her?” asked Trey Duncan, the unit’s other resident medic and entry man.
“Honestly? I think it’s a load of crap.” At their surprised looks, he continued. “As Cooper said, Ms. Stone specializes in digging into serious stories that grab national headlines. I doubt she’s interested in writing a fluff piece about the city’s SWAT team. I’m guessing she’s seen all our accolades and figures there’s something fishy going on. I don’t know if she thinks we’re crooked or in league with the criminals we take down or what. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what her angle is. I’ve decided the best way to get her to go away is to bring her in and let her see what we do.”
Becker stared at him in disbelief. “You’re going to tell her we’re werewolves?”
Gage would have laughed if anything about this was funny. “No, I’m not going to tell her the entire SWAT team is made up of werewolves. But I will show her how hard we work and train, how much we care about the people of this city, and what we’re willing to risk for them. I’m going to be charming and friendly—we’re all going to be charming and friendly. By the time she leaves, Mackenzie Stone will realize we’re nothing more than hardworking, dedicated cops, not a story for the evening news.”
“And what if she doesn’t buy that line?” Mike asked from the back of the room. The smile he wore earlier was gone now. “What if she keeps digging?”
Gage met his gaze. “I guess it’s on me to make sure that doesn’t happen, isn’t it?” He scanned the room. “But I need all of your help to do it. As long as Mackenzie Stone is around, you’re going to have to stay in complete and total control. No one going half wolf on me, no one jumping a wall they shouldn’t be able to jump, no one running faster than they should be able to run. And definitely no fighting. You need to look like the best SWAT team in the country. Got it?”
Slow nods came from around the room, Mike included.
Gage took a deep breath. Until now, he hadn’t realized how hard hiding their secret from Mackenzie Stone was going to be. But his pack was depending on him to keep them safe, and that’s what he’d do.
As everyone stood up to get back to work, Gage added one more thing. “Ms. Stone will be here in less than an hour. I want that weight room cleaned up before she shows up. Get on it.”
That earned him some groans, but not nearly as many as he expected. Maybe this was going to work.
Chapter 3
Mac took her car to the SWAT compound, leaving Zak and the news van behind on purpose. She wanted to send a clear signal to Dixon that she was agreeing to his terms—no video cameras, no recording devices, no divulging secret tactical procedures. Of course, she had no interest in secret tactical procedures, and wouldn’t have printed them regardless. She was after something else entirely. She rolled to a stop outside the gate and turned off the engine. She didn’t know what it was yet, but her instincts told her there was the mother of all stories behind that fence.
She grabbed her purse, but didn’t bother with the monster camera Zak had tossed in the backseat. She still had her trusty little camera tucked in her back pocket. And if Dixon wanted to take it from her, she had her iPhone.
She took a deep breath, relaxed her shoulders, and put on her game face. Sergeant Gage Dixon was no idiot. He knew she was snooping for a story. She had to remember not to underestimate the man simply because he was attractive as all get-out.
Mac headed for the gate to ring the bell, only to stop when she realized Dixon was already waiting for her. He was standing there in his navy blue uniform, which consisted of military-style pants bloused above combat boots and a skintight T-shirt that showed off every muscle he had—and there were a lot of them.
She dragged her mind out of the fantasy it was headed for and gave him a smile. “Sergeant Dixon, you didn’t have to meet me at the gate. You could have just buzzed me in.”
He opened the door, returning her smile with a devastating grin of his own. “What kind of host would I be if I did that? And if we’re going to be spending so much time together, maybe you can stop with the formalities and just call me Gage.”
Maybe this was going to be easier than she’d thought. “Okay, but only if you call me Mac—it’s what all my friends call me.”
“I like the idea of being friends, but if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll call you Mackenzie.” He grimaced. “Mac makes me think of a big, overweight trucker, and you definitely don’t fit that image.”
Mac couldn’t help but laugh. He was the first guy who ever told her he wouldn’t call her by her nickname. Most guys would call a woman Hannibal Lecter if they thought it’d get them in her panties. Perhaps it was an indication that working Dixon—Gage—was going to take a different approach. Not to mention a more subtle touch, she thought as he led her across the parking lot and into what he called the training-slash-maintenance building. It had a break room, a classroom, a small gym with basketball hoops, and a few rooms for storing tactical gear and other equipment.
“What’s in there?” she asked as they walked past a room that had the door closed.
If the door was closed, it was a place she wanted to see. And if he resisted, it meant she really wanted to see it.
Gage frowned. “Just another gym.” He opened the door to reveal a weight room. “We had a little accident and some of the mirrors got broken, but we should have it back in shape in a day or so.”
So much for a room full of those deep, dark secrets she’d been hoping for. “I guess you guys have to work out a lot, huh? To get all those big muscles, I mean.”
She figured a guy his size would appreciate a little love thrown his way when it came to maintaining his physique, but he only chuckled.
“We work out, but not as much as you think. We stay in shape mostly from the training we do. You know—a lot of running, climbing obstacles, carrying heavy gear and each other.” When she lifted a brow, he added, “To simulate evacuating a wounded man. The weight room is here more to give the guys something to keep their minds occupied between incidents, as well as help deal with stress afterward.”
She wasn’t sure how much she bought that. Somebody his size needed to work out—a lot. But she certainly enjoyed the spoils of his efforts. Gage had a nice body. She could only imagine how much better he’d look with his clothes off.
They ran into four members of his team as he took her on a tour of the last storage room in the building. The men were repacking some kind of gear she didn’t recognize, but stopped when she and Gage walked in.
“Mackenzie, this is Officer Hale Delaney, one of our specialists in less lethal tactics and martial arts. Officer Eric Becker, computers and surveillance. Officer Landry Cooper, explosives and demolitions expert. And Officer Remy Boudreaux, shotgun breech specialist and assistant armorer.” Gage glanced at her. “Meet Mackenzie Stone from the Dallas Daily Star.”
Mac already knew their names and their specialties from the personnel file she’d made. She smiled and shook each of their hands. And like the other SWAT cops who’d rescued the hostages that morning, they were all big, tall, and muscular. Not to mention easy on the eyes.
As Gage led her over to the next building, he gave her a tutorial on how the SWAT team was organized.
“We have a lot of flexibility when it comes to how we operate, based on the mission,” he said. “We have two separate squads within the unit—Mike runs one and Xander leads the other. They can operate independently or together as part of the full team. If there’s more than one incident at a time, or if a particular mission calls for it, we break the team up into thirds, with me leading the third squad.”
“Do you always run the operation from the vehicle you were in today?” she asked as they entered the administrative building.
“Normally, no.” He gave her a wry smile. “I try to stay as close to the action as I can, but today was a little different because I needed to be there to communicate directly with the on-scene commander and the power company. Plus, we had the department’s crisis negotiator there because we were hoping to make a deal with the gunmen and avoid a confrontation, but that didn’t work.”
When they got to the main office, he introduced her to Officers Alex Trevino and Max Lowry, two of the team’s snipers. It seemed odd to see big, strapping men like them sitting at desks filling out forms.