Diego pulled out his ID and held it up in front of Eric’s face. “Lieutenant Escobar, LVPD. I warned Cassidy that I’d be checking up on her.” Diego kept his voice calm but spoke in a way that told Eric he wasn’t leaving until he saw her.
Eric’s eyes flicked to Shifter white, his pupils becoming the long slits of a cat’s. That looked weird in his human face, but Diego made himself not react.
“Cassidy told me what happened,” Eric said. “I know you went easy on her.” His eyes flicked back to human again, and he opened the door wider. “For that, you are welcome in my house.”
Technically, Eric had no choice but to let him in. Diego was human and police, and no search warrants were needed for Shifters. Diego had the feeling, though, that if Eric hadn’t wanted him in the house, Diego wouldn’t be entering the house. This was a man who knew exactly how much he could do and how to maintain control while pretending to have none.
Diego gave Eric a little nod, meeting his eyes squarely, and stepped inside.
The interior of the house matched the exterior—neat, well kept, not luxurious. A sofa with faded upholstery looked comfortable, and tables held dog-eared paperbacks, videotapes, and inexpensive trinkets that were kept with care. Shifters weren’t allowed the technology of TiVo, HD, DVDs, cable, streaming, high-speed Internet, Wi-Fi, or anything else that smacked of the latest technology. Videotape was allowed, but Shifters weren’t going to be reading e-books anytime soon.
A second man came in from the kitchen in the back. His hair was the same color as Eric’s but a bit shaggy, and his eyes were as jade green. He looked to be the same age as Eric, but Diego knew from the Wardens’ files, which he’d read cover to cover, that this was Jace, Eric’s son.
Shifters’ life spans were about three hundred or so years, and cubs didn’t come of age until they were nearly thirty. Jace was a little past that; Eric, pushing a hundred twenty.
Both father and son watched Diego slide his ID back into his coat. Diego realized that they were waiting for him to drop his gaze, to concede that they ruled here, that he was an outsider. It had been much the same in the neighborhood in which Diego had grown up, so he understood what was going on. But too damn bad. Diego had a job to do, and he wasn’t Shifter. His gaze was staying put.
“Cassidy here?” he asked.
Eric didn’t blink. He didn’t look away, and neither did Jace, because that would be giving ground to Diego on their territory.
“Look, I’m not here to mess with you,” Diego said. “The sooner I see Cassidy, the sooner I get out of your face.”
“She’s not here,” Eric said.
Damn it. “Then where is she?”
Jace folded his arms. “She has a friend who lives behind us. Cassidy likes to visit her.”
Diego, who’d lost count of how many hardened drug dealers he’d interviewed over the years, caught that Jace never actually said that Cassidy had gone to visit her friend.
Diego picked up some old car magazines from the sofa, set them on a table, and sat down in their place. “I’ll wait.”
Eric growled, a strange sound to come from a human-looking throat. His eyes flicked to wildcat white, and he gave Diego another long look. Diego tensed, feeling his gun heavy in his holster.
If Eric shifted to his wildcat, the only way Diego could fight him was with firepower. Diego’s research since yesterday had told him that yes, bullets would hurt them, even kill them; you just had to get lucky or pump a lot of rounds into them. If Eric attacked, and his Collar didn’t stop him, there would be nothing else Diego could do.
It lay between them. When Eric went for Diego, Diego’s gun would be out. End of story.
Eric saw that. Jace, behind him, did too.
Eric’s eyes finally changed back to human and green, and he relaxed his stance. “Jace,” he said. “Get the man a beer.”
Diego let out his breath, muscles unclenching. “Not for me. I’m on duty until I’m done here.”
“Get him coffee, then.”
Jace wordlessly strode back into the kitchen, and soon they heard water running in the sink. Jace was going to brew it from scratch.
Eric sat down on the coffee table, resting his arms on his blue-jeaned thighs. The enviable tattoo swirled around Eric’s muscular shoulder and down the inside of his arm. Nice ink. When Diego had gotten the jagged chain tattoo across his shoulders at age sixteen, his mother had expressed displeasure. Loudly. For a long time.
Diego suddenly wondered what his mother would make of Eric—or Cassidy.
“Lieutenant Escobar, let me tell you a little bit about my sister,” Eric said. “Cassidy has had a rough time of it. Really rough.”
Diego thought through the files he’d read. “I know her boyfriend died last year.”
“Donovan was her mate, not her boyfriend. Mating is like a marriage, in human terms, but much more powerful than that. When Donovan died, we thought Cassidy would die too. Cassidy has a lot of spirit, a lot of guts. Not afraid of anything. But she grieved for a long, long time. She still is grieving. It’s been tough.”
To Diego’s surprise, he saw tears in Eric Warden’s eyes. A big, bad Shifter, weeping for his little sister.
But then, Diego’s brother, Xavier, had cried for Jobe when they’d buried him. Diego’s thoughts flashed before he could stop them to the huge, loud-laughing black man—Jobe pouring drinks into Diego the first time Diego had brought down a suspect with deadly force; Jobe with his arm around his beautiful wife at one of his backyard parties; Jobe laughing as he lifted his daughter into his arms. Jobe, who’d gotten to his knees and begged for Diego’s life, right before he’d been shot by a single bore, straight through the chest.
Diego dragged in a breath and blinked, finding his own chest tight.
“You all right?” Eric asked. He laid a hand on Diego’s shoulder, a firm but soothing gesture.
Diego blinked some more. “Yeah. Fine.”
“You were thinking about something pretty intense,” Eric said. “What happened? You lose your mate too?”
Diego shook his head. “A cop. My partner. I was remembering my brother at his funeral, trying to hold it together. My brother’s a cop too, and when one gets shot, it’s like…” Diego’s throat tightened, and the words wouldn’t come.
“The worst thing imaginable.”
“You got it.”
Diego had no clue why he was saying this to Eric Warden, a Shifter he’d met five minutes ago. Diego hadn’t talked about what had happened in more than a cursory way to anyone—not to his mother, not to Xavier, not to the other guys on the force, or even to the counselor they’d made Diego see.