Diego’s captain grabbed him before Diego had the chance to return to his desk and start his report. Beckoning Diego to follow him into his office, Captain Maxwell went inside and snapped at Diego to close the door.

Captain John Maxwell stood five feet six and looked thin enough to be taken out in one blow. But the man could outshoot every person in his command and pin a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound biker to the wall and cuff him in five seconds flat. A reminder that looks could be deceiving.

Captain Max now turned a look of fury on Diego. “You are damn lucky I was the only one in the observation room, Escobar. What the hell were you doing?”

“I didn’t touch her,” Diego said.

“No, you let her crawl all over you instead. I thought she was going to lick you.”

Diego had thought so too, and the visual that came with the thought was hot and satisfying. “She stopped when I told her to.”

Captain Max gave him a don’t-bullshit-me-I’m-not-in-the-mood look. “Confining her to Shiftertown for all of two weeks? That’s it? Shifter Division is going to shit a brick.”

“If I charged her with trespassing, they’d lock her up,” Diego said. “You know that. A judge can give her a death sentence for trespassing, if that judge is ass**le enough to do it. Cassidy didn’t do anything. Who cares about a building rusting in the desert?”

“And she’s gorgeous,” Captain Max said.

Diego couldn’t stop his grin. “OK, so that didn’t hurt.”

“Damn you, Escobar. I thought your brother was the maverick. You’re supposed to be the steady one, the responsible one.” Captain Max shoved some file folders around his desk, which he did when trying to relieve his temper. “I’m holding you responsible for this Shifter woman, Escobar. I want you checking on her every day. Every day, do you understand? Whether you’re on duty or off, weekdays and weekends. Got it?”

So much for the cabin on Charleston. “Yes, sir.”

“She so much as sets her toe outside Shiftertown, Shifter Division gets her. If she screws up, I’m putting the blame entirely on you. It’s your ass that will get kicked, not mine. Understand?”

Diego nodded. He knew that Captain Max would do his best to save Diego if things went wrong, as he had done before, but Diego didn’t want to put Captain Max in that position ever again.

“Yes, sir,” Diego said, and left the office, dismissed.

CHAPTER THREE

Tell me again.”

Eric didn’t need to be told again, and Cassidy knew it. But she also knew that the story bothered him, especially the part about the hunter’s sudden disappearance. He’d want to hear it again in case there had been some detail he’d missed.

Cassidy humored him and told him the story from beginning to end, while Eric stood at the barbeque in the backyard, fork in hand, muscles moving under his spiraling tattoo as he turned the steaks. Cassidy omitted that fact that, in the interrogation room, she’d had an uncontrollable need to touch Diego, to embrace him, and hadn’t stopped herself. She also neglected to mention how much clinging to Diego had both comforted and confused her.

Eric went silent as he flipped a red piece of meat, the juices sizzling on the coals. He kept his gaze on the grill, but Cassidy knew that her brother was thinking through the story, reassessing it.

“This hunter wasn’t Shifter?” he asked after a time.

“Couldn’t have been. I would have scented Shifter.” Cassidy rubbed her arms, cold despite the balmy March temperature. “I’ve never smelled anything like him, actually.”

Eric looked at her, green eyes sharp. He didn’t say anything, just stood still while one muscle moved in his jaw. Then he said, “Hmm.”

“What?” Cassidy asked, worried. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking the human cop is right, and you should stay close to home.”

“I didn’t finish making the offering.”

“Finish it another time, Cass. Donovan would understand.”

Cassidy felt the anger, which a year of grief had honed. “I’m going to find the bastards who killed him.”

Eric’s look softened. “I know you are.” He pulled his sister into a one-armed embrace, the other hand still holding the barbeque fork. “You’ll do it, Cass. But not tonight. Now, help me cook this mess of steaks. The trackers are going to help us eat them, and you know Brody’s always hungry.”

The next day after work, Diego drove his restored Thunderbird into Shiftertown and stopped in front of Eric Warden’s house.

Shiftertown wasn’t at all what Diego had thought it would be. This one had existed on the north edge of town for twenty years, but Diego had never been there. He’d expected a slum, as in the rougher neighborhoods of Las Vegas where he’d grown up. In his old neighborhood, prostitutes openly walked the streets and meth labs occupied every other house.

The streets of Shiftertown were completely different. Diego drove through an open chain-link gate to find small, well-kept houses and trimmed yards lining every street.

These houses had been built by the government twenty years ago, a housing project that had been turned into a Shiftertown once word came down that Shifters would be located here. The houses were crap, like any lowest-bid project houses, but they were painted, clean, and well repaired.

The yards were neat, either with tiny patches of grass or xeriscaped to conserve water. Water was a prized commodity in the Las Vegas valley. When strict conservation had to be enforced, Shifters were the first ones required to ration.