Cooper and Brooks looked at him like he was a moron.
“Lana, of course,” Cooper said. “It’s obvious she has your head spinning. Even if you hadn’t ripped that dummy’s head off, Xander would probably have put you on the bench just to keep you from walking yourself off the top of one of the bigger obstacles out there on the course.”
Max opened his mouth to complain, but Brooks interrupted him. “And we know it’s not only Lana that has you tied up in knots. That stuff with the Wallace kids is messing you up, too. Look me in the face and tell me you haven’t driven by there at least once or twice in the past twenty-four hours.”
Max didn’t bother to deny either accusation. “Okay, so yeah, both those things are on my mind right now. It doesn’t mean I can’t do my job.”
“We never said differently.” Brooks frowned. “It’s just that you’re distracted. It’s understandable. Finding The One for you is reason enough to be more than a little preoccupied.”
Cooper snorted. “When I met Everly, it was like my head turned to mush. I can’t even count the number of bad decisions I made. So if being with Lana has you spinning right now, don’t feel bad. You’re in good company.”
“Lana and I are doing great,” Max admitted. “I mean, there’s hardly any stress at all. Sure, there’s the thing with her not knowing she’s a werewolf, but that’s not too bad. And then there’s my control issues.”
“What control issues?” Brooks asked. “You talking about something beyond occasionally flashing your fangs and claws?”
Max looked around, hoping the rest of the Pack was too intent on their game to hear any of this. “To tell the truth, my control has gotten worse since getting involved with Lana—and this domestic violence case. First, I just about choked Wallace to death. Then, I almost shifted in front of Lana last night when we were making love.”
“Choking Wallace I get,” Cooper said. “What do you mean, you almost shifted in front of Lana?”
Max shrugged. “Just that. I went full-on fangs and claws as we were getting busy. We had to do it doggy style just so she wouldn’t see—not that doggy style with Lana isn’t spectacular, but still.”
Cooper made a face. “Okay, that’s a bit of visual imagery I could definitely have done without.”
Brooks chuckled. “Where do you think this sudden lack of control is coming from? Is it simply the fact that Lana is The One for you or because she’s a werewolf, too, and that’s ramping up the pheromones? Then again, maybe it’s related to your own history with domestic violence. Could all this stuff with the Wallace kids have brought some deep-seated issues bubbling back to the surface?”
Max didn’t have a clue, and he wasn’t keen on digging too deeply into some of those areas to figure it out. “I don’t know. It could be all of the above—or none of them. All I can say for sure is that I almost frigging bit Lana last night. I can’t keep doing that.”
Brooks regarded him thoughtfully. “Have you ever considered talking to a professional about this, maybe the psychologist the DPD sent Cooper to—Hadley Delacroix?”
Max gaped. “Are you serious? What am I going to tell her, that I grow fangs and claws every time I start to make out with my girlfriend? Somehow I don’t see that working out.”
Brooks shrugged. “She seems to have helped Cooper a lot. He’s not nearly as psycho as he used to be.”
Max didn’t know about that. Cooper still seemed pretty psychotic to him most of the time.
“Brooks might be onto something,” Cooper said. “I still stop in to see her now and then when I need to talk. I could probably get her to see you, too, just to let you try it out. Hell, if we can get enough of the Pack to go with us, she might give us a bulk discount.”
Fortunately, Max didn’t have to reply because Gage came out of the admin building.
“We got a call, Sarge?” Max asked, hopping up from the bench.
“Sort of.” Gage grimaced. “Brooks, take Max and head out to that industrial loft in Deep Ellum we set up for our visiting werewolves. I think we might have a problem brewing out there.”
Brooks grunted and got to his feet. “This has the potential to be interesting.”
Interesting. That probably wasn’t the term Max would have used.
* * *
Lana rang the doorbell, hoping Brandy and Miriam were home. She sagged with relief when it opened. A pajama-clad Brandy stood in the doorway regarding her sleepily, a pair of pink fuzzy slippers on her feet.
“I feel like crap, but you look like crap,” Brandy said, motioning her in. “Bad night?”
“Actually, the best night ever,” Lana said, keeping her voice down in case Miriam was still sleeping.
Brandy must have caught on because she shook her head. “Miriam went in early. One of the other nurses got sick and she’s covering for her in the ER.”
Lana headed straight for Brandy’s coffeemaker, thrilled to find the pot full and steaming away merrily. She grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet and fixed them both a strong cup of liquid sunshine.
