Suddenly, the SWAT cop was at her side, pulling Brandon up and talking to him in a slow, calm voice, telling him to relax and breathe, that everything was over and he was going to be okay at the same time he used his big body like a shield, keeping other people in the diner from seeing her son’s face. His voice was the most soothing and calming sound she’d ever heard in her life, and even though he wasn’t talking to her, she found herself breathing in time with his instructions—in through the nose, hold it for five seconds, and out through the mouth.
Bree watched in stunned fascination as the yellow glow slowly receded from her son’s eyes and the fangs disappeared. All at once, his panicked breathing and frantic features relaxed, and she realized it was the first time in months he didn’t seem tense.
There was a commotion behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder to see the other officers—dressed like Diego but with weapons and heavy-looking tactical gear strapped across their chests—quickly moving the rest of the hostages outside, herding them in such a way that they didn’t have time to look at the body on the floor…or Brandon.
It was like they were all working together to keep anyone from seeing what was happening with her son. Like they all somehow knew something unexplainable was going on with him.
“There you go, kid.” The SWAT cop’s deep voice made her turn back around, and she saw him standing there with his hands on Brandon’s shoulders. “Just a few more deep breaths and you’ll be good to go.”
Diego was right. A few seconds later, Brandon was fine, and Bree found herself wondering if everything she’d seen was a figment of her confused mind.
It could have been, right?
She felt a gentle hand on her arm and looked up into the warmest brown eyes she’d ever seen, a little overwhelmed by the concern she saw there. Diego didn’t even know her, and yet he seemed genuinely worried.
“I think we should get out of here,” he said, nodding toward Brandon. “This place is about to be crawling with cops, crime-scene techs, and general-purpose gawkers. I’d rather be somewhere else before they show up. We have a lot to talk about.”
She was about to ask what he meant by that, but then it hit her. Everything she’d seen had been real. Diego had seen it, too. And now he wanted to talk about it. Because that’s what cops did. They dug into stuff until they knew everything.
Bree’s heart began to thump hard all over again as she realized the danger her son might be in now. What if Diego revealed what he’d seen? Brandon would be treated like a monster. From the look on Brandon’s face, he realized the same thing and was on the verge of freaking out.
“Relax,” the cop said softly, looking first at Brandon, then her. “I’m not a threat to your son. I promise.”
Gaze locked with hers, Diego’s eyes flared vivid yellow-gold. The color was only there for a second before it disappeared, but it was impossible to miss. Or mistake it for anything other than what she’d seen in her son’s eyes. The cop looked at Brandon, earning a wide-eyed gasp. Bree had no idea what any of this meant, but it had to be a good sign…right?
“Like I said,” Diego murmured. “We have a lot to talk about.”
Bree nodded, her head spinning as she tried to understand what was going on. What was happening to her son, and how could a cop they’d just met know what it meant when she couldn’t?
All rational thought was wiped out the moment the three of them stepped out of the diner. The parking lot and area around it looked like the circus had visited the zoo—and eaten too much sugar.
Cops and paramedics were everywhere, with at least twenty patrol cars parked on the street. There was a line of EMS vehicles behind them, and to the left was an RV with a SWAT logo painted on the side. At the end of the block, just behind the row of crime-scene tape, reporters and camera crews vied for space with crowds of onlookers trying to find the perfect spot to take pictures with their cell phones.
Which reminded her—her phone was still back on a table in the diner along with everyone else’s. She wondered if the cops would give it back or need it for evidence.
Diego was leading her and Brandon toward the RV when a tall officer intercepted them. His uniform was ripped and torn in a dozen locations, and while it was impossible to miss the blood running from myriad cuts he had, he didn’t seem bothered by it.
“Sorry to interrupt, but Chief Leclair just showed up and she’s demanding a sitrep,” he said to Diego. “She wants to know how that guy in the diner ended up dead, and she wants you to tell her.”
Diego sighed, nodding even though it was obvious he didn’t want to go talk to his chief. While Bree desperately wanted to hear what Diego had to say, she also understood what it was like to deal with management types who wanted to have all the answers five minutes ago.
“We’ll go,” she said, her chest tightening at the look of panic on her son’s face. “Maybe we can meet up with you later? So we can talk?”
Diego shook his head, motioning to a paramedic as the other SWAT cop headed for the RV.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather have a paramedic take a look at you and your son,” Diego said. “I know you don’t think it’s necessary, but it would make me feel a lot better. By the time you’re done, I should be finished with my chief. That way, we can have that talk sooner rather than later.”
Bree didn’t feel it was necessary to have a paramedic check her out, but Brandon was a different matter. He’d gone down hard when Diego had tackled the gunman. She wouldn’t be surprised if her son had a concussion or even a cracked rib or two. So, she agreed with a nod.
“This is Trent Barnes,” Diego said, introducing the tall, dark-haired paramedic who jogged over. “He’ll take good care of you two until I can get back. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Bree nodded again, surprised to realize she didn’t care how long they had to wait. She tried to tell herself it was because they needed to talk about Brandon, but as Diego regarded her with those chocolate-brown eyes, she admitted there was something more to it than that. She didn’t want to think about what that might be right now, but it was there all the same.
Chapter 2
Chief Shanette Leclair turned and pinned Diego with an impatient look the moment he stepped into the RV. Trey, Connor, Hale, and Mike, on the other hand, regarded him curiously. Probably wondering what was up with the young beta werewolf.
“Good of you to join us, Officer Martinez.” Tall and slender with medium-brown skin and black hair swept back in a neat bun, the chief had a reputation for being tough, but fair. “When you didn’t come back with Corporal Taylor, I was worried you were injured. I’m relieved to see you’re simply slow.”
Diego ignored the jab. While the new chief of police had only been on the job for a few months, it hadn’t taken very long to figure out the woman only revealed her snarky side to those she respected. And damn, did she love to get sarcastic with her SWAT team.