“Sarge, I appreciate you trying to protect me from this stuff, but I’m going to have to go on a domestic violence call at some point. They’re like thirty or forty percent of our workload. I can deal with it.”
Gage didn’t say anything. Beside Max, Cooper and Trey were studiously focusing on the weapons they were cleaning. They didn’t like the idea of Max going out on these calls, either.
“Okay,” Gage finally said. “Go on the call, but keep yourself detached from the situation. Stay in control and follow Brooks’s lead, understand me?”
Max nodded once and headed for the door at a run to catch up with the other guys. While he was glad Gage had relented, he was a little worried about whether it had been a good idea to push the issue. If there was one situation that messed with his control on his inner wolf more than any other, it was DV calls.
Tuffie gave him a look when he sprinted past, as if she was a little worried about that, too.
* * *
They got to the apartment complex on Park Lane at the same time two DPD cruisers from the Northwest Division rolled in. According to dispatch, this address had been the subject of over a dozen domestic violence and noise complaint calls over the past two years and everything pointed to the situation escalating each time—hence the request for SWAT backup.
Max had personal experience with how these things tended to escalate and how they usually ended. He hoped it wasn’t the case this time, but he wasn’t holding his breath.
The two patrol cars stopped in front of a single-family dwelling on the other side of the street from the apartment building. While it had obviously been built in the same manner as the other houses around it, there was something about this particular house that made it stand out. Max wasn’t prone to being melodramatic, but it was like the house itself was sad. It was a stupid thing to think, but how else did you describe a home that seemed a little bit dimmer and less alive than the other houses around it? Max couldn’t help but wonder if this was how his apartment in Vegas had looked to others in the neighborhood.
An officer from one of the cruisers headed toward the house next door to talk to the person who’d called the police about the disturbance. The second cop, Senior Corporal Alvarez, walked over to Max and the other guys.
“We’ve been out here four times over the past few weeks,” he explained. “The guy’s a real son of a bitch, but the wife and kids are too afraid to say anything to us. It could get ugly in there.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Brooks said.
Giving them a nod, Alvarez headed up the walkway toward the front door of the ranch-style home, his back stiff and straight, one hand resting on the top of his holstered weapon. No doubt the patrolman had been called out to this address before and was assuming the worse.
Brooks motioned to Zane and Diego, indicating they should go around to the back of the house while he and Max followed the uniformed officer onto the front porch. Senior Corporal Alvarez gave Max and Brooks a quick look, confirming they were there and ready, then knocked on the door. There looked like there’d been a doorbell on the exterior at some point, but a gaping hole that appeared to have been filled with old bubblegum was the only thing there now. There was a well-used aluminum screen door protecting the heavy wood inner door, but even with those two barriers, Max still picked up the scent of fresh blood coming from inside the house. He was glancing at Brooks to see if he smelled it when the inner door jerked open.
The metallic odor of blood hit Max all at once, and his fangs slid out as a big man in a mechanic’s uniform filled the doorway, a pissed-off look on his face. The urge to grab the man by the shirtfront and rip him through the screen door was tough to ignore. He might have done it if hadn’t been for Brooks. His fellow werewolf gave him a warning look and a nudge. Max used the distraction to shut out the scent and get his pulse under control.
“What the hell do you want?” the man demanded.
“We’ve received a call about a disturbance at this address, Mr. Wallace,” Officer Alvarez responded calmly, clearly familiar enough to know the man’s name. “An altercation involving one or more of the residents.”
The man’s face twisted into a scowl. “It was that damn old fart next door, wasn’t it? He’s full of shit and needs to mind his own damn business.”
Max had to hand it to Alvarez. The patrol officer didn’t so much as bat an eye. “Sir, we’ll have to come inside and check to make sure everyone in the house is safe, so I’m going to need you to open the screen door and step back.”
The big man didn’t move. “This is bullshit. Not to mention harassment. There’s nothing going on here and you have no right to come in this house!”
Max was all too familiar with the lines Wallace was spouting. It was the same kind of shit his old man used to say on those very rare occasions when the LVPD had bothered to show up.
Max took a step forward, ready to kick in the door and flatten this jerk on his way to figuring out where the scent of blood was coming from, but Brooks reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Max almost turned and snarled at Brooks. His teammate had to be able to smell the blood. Someone in the house was hurt.
But Brooks didn’t move his hand. He didn’t look at Max, either. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on the piece of crap blocking their entrance.
“Mr. Wallace, I’ve been out here enough times to know you’re aware of how this works,” Alvarez said. “If you don’t voluntarily let us into your house, I’m going to ask the two officers with me to open it instead. It’s up to you.”
As they waited for Wallace to decide, Diego’s voice came though the earpiece Max wore. “I’m looking through the kitchen window right now and can see four people sitting in the living room—a woman, a teen boy, and two younger girls. The boy has a bloody towel wrapped around his hand.”
Beside Max, Brooks clenched his jaw. “We need to get inside,” he said softly to Alvarez.
The uniformed officer didn’t look back or ask what was going on. In fact, he never took his eyes off the man on the other side of the screen door. “Three seconds, Mr. Wallace.”
Wallace cursed and pushed open the screen door, stepping aside to let them in.
“This is bullshit!” he said as Max and Brooks led the way inside the house. Two seconds later, Max heard Zane and Diego come in through the back door.
“Where the hell did they come from?” Wallace groused as the pair walked into the living room.
