Wild Cat (5 page)

Eric went silent as he flipped a red piece of meat, the juices sizzling on the coals. He kept his gaze on the grill, but Cassidy knew that her brother was thinking through the story, reassessing it.

“This hunter wasn’t Shifter?” he asked after a time.

“Couldn’t have been. I would have scented Shifter.” Cassidy rubbed her arms, cold despite the balmy March temperature. “I’ve never smelled anything like him, actually.”

Eric looked at her, green eyes sharp. He didn’t say anything, just stood still while one muscle moved in his jaw. Then he said, “Hmm.”

“What?” Cassidy asked, worried. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking the human cop is right, and you should stay close to home.”

“I didn’t finish making the offering.”

“Finish it another time, Cass. Donovan would understand.”

Cassidy felt the anger, which a year of grief had honed. “I’m going to find the bastards who killed him.”

Eric’s look softened. “I know you are.” He pulled his sister into a one-armed embrace, the other hand still holding the barbeque fork. “You’ll do it, Cass. But not tonight. Now, help me cook this mess of steaks. The trackers are going to help us eat them, and you know Brody’s always hungry.”

T
he next day after work, Diego drove his restored Thunderbird into Shiftertown and stopped in front of Eric Warden’s house.

Shiftertown wasn’t at all what Diego had thought it would be. This one had existed on the north edge of town for twenty years, but Diego had never been there. He’d expected a slum, as in the rougher neighborhoods of Las Vegas where he’d grown up. In his old neighborhood, prostitutes openly walked the streets and meth labs occupied every other house.

The streets of Shiftertown were completely different. Diego drove through an open chain-link gate to find small, well-kept houses and trimmed yards lining every street.

These houses had been built by the government twenty years ago, a housing project that had been turned into a Shiftertown once word came down that Shifters would be located here. The houses were crap, like any lowest-bid project houses, but they were painted, clean, and well repaired.

The yards were neat, either with tiny patches of grass or xeriscaped to conserve water. Water was a prized commodity in the Las Vegas valley. When strict conservation had to be enforced, Shifters were the first ones required to ration.

Eric Warden’s house looked no different from others on the block. Diego had thought that, as Shiftertown leader, Eric would have commandeered one of the biggest ones. Would at least insist on having the most windows, or more plants in his yard, or
something
.

But the house—a one-story, long, plain building—looked the same as the houses to either side of it. A small front porch ran the length of the house, with thick posts holding the porch roof in place. The porch had been added on, Diego saw, and he noticed that many houses on the street had similar additions. Shifters must be handy with lumber.

Diego opened the screen door before knocking on the front door, which was jerked open almost immediately by Eric Warden himself.

Tall, green-eyed, brown hair buzzed short, Eric wore a muscle shirt that revealed a scrolled black tatt that cupped his shoulder and trailed down his arm. His Collar, a thick silver and black band, hugged his throat. He regarded Diego with an unwelcoming expression.

“I’m here to see Cassidy,” Diego said.

Eric’s glittering eyes were hard to meet, but Diego didn’t let himself look away. Diego had faced deadly criminals—hard, hard men with no remorse, who would shoot a handful of people for the hell of it and go home for a good night’s sleep. But, somehow, Diego thought, even those men would back down from Eric Warden’s stare.

Diego pulled out his ID and held it up in front of Eric’s face. “Lieutenant Escobar, LVPD. I warned Cassidy that I’d be checking up on her.” Diego kept his voice calm but spoke in a way that told Eric he wasn’t leaving until he saw her.

Eric’s eyes flicked to Shifter white, his pupils becoming the long slits of a cat’s. That looked weird in his human face, but Diego made himself not react.

“Cassidy told me what happened,” Eric said. “I know you went easy on her.” His eyes flicked back to human again, and he opened the door wider. “For that, you are welcome in my house.”

Technically, Eric had no choice but to let him in. Diego was human and police, and no search warrants were needed for Shifters. Diego had the feeling, though, that if Eric hadn’t wanted him in the house, Diego wouldn’t be entering the house. This was a man who knew exactly how much he could do and how to maintain control while pretending to have none.

Diego gave Eric a little nod, meeting his eyes squarely, and stepped inside.

The interior of the house matched the exterior—neat, well kept, not luxurious. A sofa with faded upholstery looked comfortable, and tables held dog-eared paperbacks, videotapes, and inexpensive trinkets that were kept with care. Shifters weren’t allowed the technology of TiVo, HD, DVDs, cable, streaming, high-speed Internet, Wi-Fi, or anything else that smacked of the latest technology. Videotape was allowed, but Shifters weren’t going to be reading e-books anytime soon.

A second man came in from the kitchen in the back. His hair was the same color as Eric’s but a bit shaggy, and his eyes were as jade green. He looked to be the same age as Eric, but Diego knew from the Wardens’ files, which he’d read cover to cover, that this was Jace, Eric’s son.

Shifters’ life spans were about three hundred or so years, and cubs didn’t come of age until they were nearly thirty. Jace was a little past that; Eric, pushing a hundred twenty.

Both father and son watched Diego slide his ID back into his coat. Diego realized that they were waiting for him to drop his gaze, to concede that they ruled here, that he was an outsider. It had been much the same in the neighborhood in which Diego had grown up, so he understood what was going on. But too damn bad. Diego had a job to do, and he wasn’t Shifter. His gaze was staying put.

“Cassidy here?” he asked.

Eric didn’t blink. He didn’t look away, and neither did Jace, because that would be giving ground to Diego on their territory.

“Look, I’m not here to mess with you,” Diego said. “The sooner I see Cassidy, the sooner I get out of your face.”

“She’s not here,” Eric said.

Damn it.
“Then where is she?”

Jace folded his arms. “She has a friend who lives behind us. Cassidy likes to visit her.”

Diego, who’d lost count of how many hardened drug dealers he’d interviewed over the years, caught that Jace never actually said that Cassidy had gone to visit her friend.

Diego picked up some old car magazines from the sofa, set them on a table, and sat down in their place. “I’ll wait.”

Eric growled, a strange sound to come from a human-looking throat. His eyes flicked to wildcat white, and he gave Diego another long look. Diego tensed, feeling his gun heavy in his holster.

If Eric shifted to his wildcat, the only way Diego could fight him was with firepower. Diego’s research since yesterday had told him that yes, bullets
would
hurt them, even kill them; you just had to get lucky or pump a lot of rounds into them. If Eric attacked, and his Collar didn’t stop him, there would be nothing else Diego could do.

It lay between them. When Eric went for Diego, Diego’s gun would be out. End of story.

Eric saw that. Jace, behind him, did too.

Eric’s eyes finally changed back to human and green, and he relaxed his stance. “Jace,” he said. “Get the man a beer.”

Diego let out his breath, muscles unclenching. “Not for me. I’m on duty until I’m done here.”

“Get him coffee, then.”

Jace wordlessly strode back into the kitchen, and soon they heard water running in the sink. Jace was going to brew it from scratch.

Eric sat down on the coffee table, resting his arms on his blue-jeaned thighs. The enviable tattoo swirled around Eric’s muscular shoulder and down the inside of his arm. Nice ink. When Diego had gotten the jagged chain tattoo across his shoulders at age sixteen, his mother had expressed displeasure. Loudly. For a long time.

Diego suddenly wondered what his mother would make of Eric—or Cassidy.

“Lieutenant Escobar, let me tell you a little bit about my sister,” Eric said. “Cassidy has had a rough time of it. Really rough.”

Diego thought through the files he’d read. “I know her boyfriend died last year.”

“Donovan was her mate, not her boyfriend. Mating is like a marriage, in human terms, but much more powerful than that. When Donovan died, we thought Cassidy would die too. Cassidy has a lot of spirit, a lot of guts. Not afraid of anything. But she grieved for a long, long time. She still is grieving. It’s been tough.”

To Diego’s surprise, he saw tears in Eric Warden’s eyes. A big, bad Shifter, weeping for his little sister.

But then, Diego’s brother, Xavier, had cried for Jobe when they’d buried him. Diego’s thoughts flashed before he could stop them to the huge, loud-laughing black man—Jobe pouring drinks into Diego the first time Diego had brought down a suspect with deadly force; Jobe with his arm around his beautiful wife at one of his backyard parties; Jobe laughing as he lifted his daughter into his arms. Jobe, who’d gotten to his knees and begged for Diego’s life, right before he’d been shot by a single bore, straight through the chest.

Diego dragged in a breath and blinked, finding his own chest tight.

“You all right?” Eric asked. He laid a hand on Diego’s shoulder, a firm but soothing gesture.

Diego blinked some more. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You were thinking about something pretty intense,” Eric said. “What happened? You lose your mate too?”

Diego shook his head. “A cop. My partner. I was remembering my brother at his funeral, trying to hold it together. My brother’s a cop too, and when one gets shot, it’s like…” Diego’s throat tightened, and the words wouldn’t come.

“The worst thing imaginable.”

“You got it.”

Diego had no clue why he was saying this to Eric Warden, a Shifter he’d met five minutes ago. Diego hadn’t talked about what had happened in more than a cursory way to anyone—not to his mother, not to Xavier, not to the other guys on the force, or even to the counselor they’d made Diego see.

“It was damn bad,” Diego said. “Especially since Jobe died trying to save my life.”

Eric pressed Diego’s shoulder, the movement almost a caress. “I’m sorry, Diego Escobar. I will say a blessing for him, and for you.”

Cassidy had said much the same thing.
I’ll say a blessing for you.
She hadn’t simply said it, as a stranger might politely say,
I’m sorry for your loss.
They understood, these Shifters. A loss for one person was a loss to everyone.

The phone rang in the kitchen, then stopped, followed by Jace’s low voice. Eric listened, head cocked, not letting go of Diego.

When Jace hung up, Eric called to him. “Jace, come on with that coffee.”

Something clattered. “Don’t get your pants in a twist, Dad. It only brews so fast.”

“I don’t need coffee,” Diego said. “I just need to see Cassidy.”

Eric’s hand slid to Diego’s neck and cupped it in a way that was a little more personal than Diego liked from another man, but he didn’t pull away. Eric kept up the pressure for a few seconds before releasing it.

“Cassidy’s not here,” Eric repeated.

“So you said. Can you call her? I’ll talk to her, make my captain happy, then I’ll get out and leave you alone.”

Eric rubbed his lip, a very human gesture. “Thing is, Escobar, I lied. Cassidy’s not here. I mean not here in Shiftertown.”

Diego got to his feet. “Then where the hell is she?”

Eric rose with him. “She’s all right. She insisted she go make her offerings, and I had to let her. But I sent my trackers with her. They’ll make sure she’s safe to their last breath, or they’ll answer to me. Trust me, they don’t want to answer to me.”

Diego glared at him. “Damn it, that’s not the point. Cassidy isn’t supposed to leave Shiftertown—
at all.
If she’s seen out of it, she’ll be arrested, Shifter Division will get her, and there won’t be anything I can do.”

“She won’t be seen,” Eric said in a hard voice.

“How the hell do you know that?”

Jace came out of the back carrying a mug of coffee. He looked from Eric to Diego, assessed the mood, then lifted the mug and drank the coffee himself.

“The phone call Jace just took was from one of my trackers,” Eric said. “They’re checking in every half hour. I heard what he said. Cassidy is fine.”

Jace nodded confirmation and took another sip of coffee.

“Son of a
bitch
,” Diego said. “It’s not about how well she’s guarded. The only reason she’s not in a Shifter Division cage is because I vouched for her, promised that she’d stay home. You need to find her and get her back here.
Now.
”

“I just told you what she’s going through,” Eric said in a hard voice. “Her mate was cut down by human hunters. Tonight is his remembrance blessing, and she’s making her peace with where he died. She hasn’t been able to make herself go there until now, which is a huge step forward for her. I couldn’t tell her no.” Eric’s expression reflected anguish, but Diego couldn’t let this go so easily. “I know what she’s feeling,” Eric went on, “because I went through it too. She needed to go, and I understood. I sent the trackers with her to make damn sure nothing happens to her. She’s praying, and she’s fine.”

“I’m damn glad to hear she’s fine, but you should have stopped her,” Diego said heatedly. “Do you know what Shifter Division will do to her if they find her running around without a leash? Whatever the hell they want. They won’t stop themselves. She’s only a Shifter, a female Shifter. That’s how they think.”

All compassion vanished from Eric’s eyes. “If they touch her, they’re dead. I don’t care about Collars, and I don’t care about rules. Think about that.” Eric flicked Diego’s tie. “Without a leash. Yeah, that’s funny.”

Diego didn’t move. “If you fight the cops, it’s you that’s dead. You, your son, your sister, and anyone else Shifter Division decides to put down. You think about
that
while you take me to her.”