Of course, the chief’s special relationship with the SWAT team might also have had a lot to do with the fact that she had a thing for Mike. True, the chief of police had a right to be interested in the health and welfare of every single one of her officers, but a werewolf would have to be absolutely clueless not to pick up on the way the woman showed up at any incident involving Mike. Or the fact that her heart tended to race like mad until the moment she confirmed he was safe.
“Sorry it took me a while,” Diego said, closing the door behind him. “I wanted to get a paramedic to check out two of the hostages.”
“The boy and woman I saw you come out of the diner with?” The chief’s hazel eyes filled with concern. “Corporal Taylor mentioned they’d risk their lives to help the two officers who’d been shot. Are they okay?”
“They’re okay,” he said. “The boy went down hard when I tackled the suspect, but something tells me he’s tougher than he looks.”
Leclair nodded. “That’s good to hear. Now, maybe you can tell me what the hell happened in there. How did we go from a guy shooting two cops and taking a diner full of people hostage to him killing himself?”
Diego told the chief everything. Well, not the whole werewolf thing, of course. But he definitely emphasized Ken’s bizarre behavior and how the guy had floated in and out of awareness throughout the situation.
“Those were his exact words before he shot himself—‘Don’t let him get away with this’?” Leclair frowned. “What does that even mean? Who was he referring to? Did someone make him do all this, including shooting himself in the head? Or was it some convoluted Freudian reference to his inner id?”
Diego crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d be lying if I said I knew the answer to any of those questions. All I can say for sure is that right there at the end, Ken didn’t look like someone who wanted to take his own life—or anyone else’s.”
“What do you mean?” the chief asked.
He shrugged. “I’m not any kind of expert on the subject, and I’m certainly not a shrink, but as a negotiator, I’ve been in the horrible position of watching way too many people kill themselves. And in every one of those cases, right before the person went through with it, a moment of calm came over them. I’ve always assumed it had something to do with accepting what they were about to do. But when Ken killed himself, he was fighting tooth and nail against it.”
The chief was silent as she considered that. Diego glanced at his teammates to see they looked as confused by his take on what had happened in there as she did. Join the club.
After a long moment, she sighed. “Okay, once we confirm his identity, I’ll get our detectives working on trying to link this guy to any of the previous suspects.”
The impromptu meeting ended shortly after that, and Diego took the opportunity to slip away while the chief chatted with Mike about attending a seminar on transformative management techniques the department would be putting on in a couple weeks.
Mike nodded like he was riveted by the idea. More like enthralled with Chief Leclair. “I think I’ve heard about that program. It sounds really interesting.”
Diego exchanged looks with his other pack mates to see if they were hearing the same thing he was. The amusement on their faces confirmed it. He’d be damned. Mike was flirting with the chief over a management seminar.
Shaking his head, Diego opened the door. He smelled the young beta the moment he was outside the RV. Surprisingly, he also smelled the kid’s mother just as easily. Actually, in some ways, her scent seemed even stronger. Diego let himself focus on her fragrance for a moment, picking out hints of strawberry, vanilla, and a distinctly feminine scent that seemed uniquely her own.
He crossed the street, following her scent while doing his best not to dwell on why it was so tantalizing. She smelled amazing. That was as far as he cared to go at the moment.
Both scents led him to one of the many ambulances lined up outside the security perimeter. Heading around to the side door, he tapped on the metal doorframe as he stuck his head inside. The beta werewolf and his mom were sitting side by side on a gurney while Trent checked them out.
“What’s the word, Trent?” Diego asked.
His buddy from Dallas Fire and Rescue looked over with a grin as he pulled a blood-pressure cuff off the kid’s arm. “Bree is dealing with an elevated heart rate and her pressure is a bit high, but that’s to be expected considering what she went through this morning.”
Bree.
So, that was her name. It was beautiful. Just like the woman it belonged to. Diego had noticed how pretty she was when he’d first laid eyes on her in the diner, but now that he had time to appreciate her, it was impossible to miss how stunning she was. An angelic heart-shaped face, plump pink lips, and eyes the color of creamy milk chocolate. She was definitely something else.
Diego didn’t realize he was standing there staring until he noticed Trent had been talking the whole time and he hadn’t heard a single word.
“Brandon, on the other hand, is as fit as a horse,” Trent said with a laugh. “In fact, he’s got the pulse rate and blood pressure of an elite marathon runner. He’s got some bumps and bruises from you tackling him, but by and large, it’s like the stuff this morning didn’t bother him at all.”
Diego chuckled as he stepped into the tight confines of the ambulance. Even without three other people in here, these vehicles weren’t meant for men his size. Hearing Trent go on about how healthy Brandon was after what happened wasn’t a surprise. All werewolves were fit AF.
“Now that you’ve checked them over and made sure they’re okay, do you mind if I borrow your ambulance for a few minutes?” he asked. “I need to talk to Bree and Brandon about a few things, and your ride is about the only privacy available in a five-block radius.”
Trent nodded. “No problem. The rig is all yours until we catch a call.”
Diego heard Bree’s heart beat a little faster as Trent stepped outside and closed the door. Brandon’s pulse kicked up a notch as well.
“Before I say anything else, I guess formal introductions are in order,” he said, sitting on the fold-down seat across from them and holding out his hand. “Diego Martinez.”
She leaned forward, clasping his big hand with her smaller one. Diego couldn’t miss how soft her skin was or how badly he wanted to rub small circles on the back of it with his thumb.
“Bree Harlow,” she said, and maybe it was his imagination, but she seemed to hold on to his hand for an extra second or two. “And this is my son, Brandon. You saved his life in that diner. Thank you for that.”
Diego opened his mouth to tell her he was simply doing his job, but the look of true gratitude in her eyes stopped him.