And thanks to Denise’s address book, they knew Lana was in Dallas and had come here to kill her. The idea they’d do the same thing to her that they’d done to Denise twisted his guts into knots.
He’d scared Lana so badly in that alley she’d almost gone into a shift herself. He could smell it when he’d been fighting with those two idiots. Her scent had completely changed from that half-werewolf, half-human mix into a true beta scent. Not only had her heart been racing, but her eyes had also started to glow. He was pretty sure he’d caught sight of the cutest set of little fangs poking out of her mouth, too.
Then she’d run like a terrified animal. He’d only made it worse by chasing after her. He was glad she’d calmed down enough to stop running and go somewhere familiar and safe. If she hadn’t, who knew how far she might have run?
Max stepped onto the front porch just as the door opened. Deputy Chief Mason stepped outside, closing it behind him. Lana’s scent—back to the half-and-half mix he was used to—hit him in the face like a physical blow, and he nearly shifted right there in front of the deputy chief. Every instinct in Max’s body screamed at him to kick down the door and run inside to take Lana in his arms and protect her, but he stopped himself. Going in there like that would only frighten her again.
Not that it looked like Mason had any intention of letting Max get anywhere near the door. Lana’s father was planted on the porch, one hand shoved in the side pocket of the jacket he wore. Max didn’t need to have X-ray vision to know the man had a gun in there.
“You’re not welcome here,” the deputy chief said coldly. “Lana doesn’t want to see you…ever again.”
Max frowned. When he’d realized Lana had no idea she was a werewolf, he’d also bought into the idea that her parents didn’t know, either. That had gotten harder to believe when she’d told him about her parents paying a buttload of money to get her out of the hospital after that car wreck and take care of her at home. That sure as hell sounded like someone trying to hide that their daughter was a werewolf. Even then, he’d been ready to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Lana was unique. Anything was possible with her.
Now, Max couldn’t shake the feeling that this was way more than a father being overprotective. Mason wasn’t trying to chase him off because he wasn’t good enough for his little girl. This man was too practical and rational to take that line with his daughter. This was something more, something deeply personal.
“You’ve known all along what your daughter is—what we are—haven’t you?” Max asked.
Mason’s mouth tightened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Officer Lowry. I want you off my porch right now, or you’ll be a civilian by morning.”
Max stood there, fighting the urge to shift. Mason was lying, Max was sure of it. But he got a grip on himself. Losing control right then wasn’t going to help anything. There was something more important going on here than Mason knowing about werewolves.
“Chief, your daughter is in danger. There are people out there who will hurt her simply because of what she is.”
“The only one who’s a danger to Lana is you,” Mason ground out. “If you hadn’t forced your way into her life, she wouldn’t be in there crying right now.”
Max opened his mouth to argue, but Mason turned and walked into the house, slamming the door behind him.
Max was so torn about leaving he almost shifted again. Shit, he had to get himself together and think. What the hell was he going to do? The hunters could be coming for Lana at any moment.
He could stay and sit in his car, keep an eye on the place. But if he did that, how long before the deputy chief called a patrol car out here to chase him off?
Max cursed. This wasn’t something he could deal with on his own. He was the member of a Pack, and right then, he’d never needed them more. He also needed the advice of someone he trusted like Gage and Xander and Mike. Hell, he’d even listen to Cooper at the moment if it would help him figure out what to do next.
The hunters didn’t pose an immediate threat to Lana, not here in the home of the deputy chief of police. The hunters were vicious, but they weren’t reckless. They’d never come at anyone like a cop, not in the middle of a fully populated residential neighborhood. Lana would be safe for the moment—until they could come up with a better plan.
With that in mind, Max jogged back out to his Camaro and cranked the engine. Pulling a U-turn, he headed back the way he’d come.
Gage and Mac’s home was a frequent hangout for a lot of the werewolves in Dallas—Pack and otherwise—so when he pulled up in front of the two-story house thirty minutes later, Max wasn’t surprised to see Xander’s pickup truck alongside Mike’s Sierra in the driveway. There were two other vehicles Max didn’t recognize.
Gage’s wife, Mackenzie, answered the door. Tall with long, dark hair and blue eyes, she was a journalist at the Dallas Daily Star. She didn’t have to be a reporter to pick up on the fact that something was up with him.
“Is everything okay?” she asked the moment he stepped inside.
Since she’d married the SWAT team commander, Mac had turned into the Pack matriarch—even if she refused to consider herself old enough to play that part. Regardless, she’d jumped into the role of helping the rapidly growing Pack deal with day-to-day issues.
Max gave her a rueful look. “Not really. I sort of pulled a stupid, and need to tell Sarge about it.”
“Gage mentioned you’d found your One,” she said, her lips curving. “I wondered how long it would be before you showed up here—or ended up in jail.”
Max smiled wryly. “Good to see you have so much faith in me.”
“It’s not that we don’t have faith in you,” she said as she led him toward the back of the house and the kitchen. “It’s just that we know how finding The One can make a werewolf behave. Gage will be thrilled you decided to come and tell him up front instead of calling him after the crap hit the fan.”
Max grunted. He wasn’t so sure the boss would be as thrilled when he found out the deputy chief had been ready to pull a weapon on him.
Gage, Xander, and Mike were sitting at the kitchen table along with Khaki, while Florian and Armand Danu, the oldest members of the family Cooper had married into, were leaning back against the granite counter of the island. The two men had become ingrained in the Pack’s effort to form a safe haven for werewolves here in Dallas. With their knowledge of werewolf hunters, their presence at gatherings was as important as anyone’s.
“No handcuffs,” Xander observed dryly. “I’m going to say that’s a good thing even before I hear the details.”
