“Good,” Brooks said. “Then let’s move.”
They were out from behind the Dumpster and moving toward their positions without another word, M4 carbines locked and loaded. Diego, Trey, and Remy peeled off and headed for the loading ramp entry at the far end of the warehouse while Brooks and Connor moved toward the big double doors on the opposite end of the building. As he kept an eye out for anyone coming around the back of the warehouse, Brooks heard Ray issuing updates over the radio, letting everyone know there were still civilians loitering around the front.
“I get the feeling you and Porter have worked together before,” Connor remarked as they slipped behind a row of A/C units and crouched down.
Brooks nodded. “I worked in the gang unit with Ray when I first started at the DPD before joining SWAT.”
Connor did a double take, his hazel eyes filled with surprise. “No shit. I assumed Gage brought you straight onto the team since you had prior police experience.”
Brooks shook his head, remembering the day Gage Dixon, the Dallas SWAT commander, had shown up at the sheriff’s department in Gulfport and told him he was a werewolf. A lot of things had changed for him—fast. But getting onto the Dallas SWAT team hadn’t been one of them.
“Nah. HR was still making it hard for him to bring new people straight in, so I started in the gang unit while Gage worked the system to get me into SWAT.”
Connor frowned. “That must have been rough. Being away from the Pack when you were still a new werewolf, I mean.”
“I still hung with the Pack on my off time, which helped me wrap my head around the whole werewolf thing.”
Good thing, too. If Gage hadn’t found him when he had, Brooks probably would have thought he was having a mental breakdown. Or turning into a monster.
“We’re in position,” Trey whispered over their internal SWAT frequency on the radio.
Brooks glanced over his shoulder to see Diego, Trey, and Remy crouched below the concrete loading dock. They were doing a damn good job of making themselves as small as possible. Which was a hell of a trick for three guys who weighed over 250 pounds each.
He radioed Ray to tell him they were ready, reminding him that their asses were hanging in the breeze. Ray instructed him to sit tight for another minute, saying there were two civilians still in the way. Brooks cursed silently. While he didn’t like the idea of being back here with minimal cover, clearing the area of people could alert the gangbangers inside to their presence. Then things would get ugly real fast.
Brooks frowned as he suddenly picked up a scent he couldn’t place. He turned to ask Connor if he smelled it too, and was shocked to see a sleek black cat rubbing up against his teammate, looking happy as hell to find him there.
“What the hell is that?” he asked.
Connor looked at him like he was an idiot. “It’s a cat.”
Brooks wasn’t sure he agreed with that. Unlike dogs, cats hated werewolves. Besides, that slinky thing weaving back and forth through Connor’s legs had the weirdest scent he’d ever picked up from a cat. Like she’d spent an entire weekend trapped inside a Bath and Body Works at the mall.
“Okay, better question then. What the hell is she doing here? We’re about to kick in the door in a minute. Now isn’t the best time to make a new friend.”
Connor ran his hand over the cat’s fur. The animal immediately leaned into his touch and purred. “Hey, it’s not like I’m doing anything to attract her attention.”
In his ear, Ray announced the coast was clear and that he was getting his team ready to move. Brooks gave Connor a pointed look. “Well, get her to go away before the situation gets tense.”
He could just imagine the cat trying to follow Connor inside the warehouse and into the middle of a firefight.
Connor gently nudged the cat farther down the alley with his hand, but the graceful feline turned back around and rubbed up against the leg of his cargo pants. He gave Brooks a sheepish look. “I don’t think she wants to leave.”
Brooks lifted a brow. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound werewolf with claws, fangs, and a bite that’s even worse than your bark, and you’re telling me you can’t figure out how to get the cat to leave. Seriously?”
Connor looked at him blankly for a moment before realization dawned on his face. Turning to the cat, he growled low and menacing, his eyes flashing gold as he bared his fangs.
Brooks expected the animal to jump ten feet in the air, then go running like she’d seen a ghost. Or a werewolf. But instead, she regarded Connor with an expression that clearly indicated she hadn’t been impressed. Then she turned and casually walked away, her head and tail held high. A few moments later, she disappeared around the corner of the building.
Connor glanced at Brooks. “I think that cat just rolled her eyes at me. I can’t figure out if I should be offended or not.”
Brooks chuckled. “I’m not sure offended is the word I’d use. Maybe embarrassed might be better. Or ashamed. Mortified even. But if saying you’re offended that a cat punked you works for you, have at it.”
Connor muttered something under his breath about not being a cat person, but Brooks ignored it. It was time to focus on the job they were here to do. Over the radio, Ray announced they were entering the building in two minutes.
The words were barely out of his mouth when shouts came from inside the warehouse, immediately followed by shooting. A lot of it, too. Rapid-fire pistol mixed with automatic weapons fire.
Shit.
