Chapter 1

Dallas, Texas, Present Day

“This food tastes like crap,” Max said as he shoved another tiny spinach quiche into his mouth and chewed. If it weren’t for the fact that werewolves could eat anything they wanted without it messing with their weight, he’d have been worried about the wasted calories.

“Stop complaining,” fellow werewolf and SWAT officer Jayden Brooks said. A senior corporal on the team, Brooks was a former college star running back, and while he was the biggest werewolf in the Pack, he was also the most soft-spoken. “Besides, it’s free. That makes it taste better.”

With a grin, Brooks popped some kind of fancy hors d’oeuvre in his mouth. His plate was piled so high with them Max was surprised they didn’t fall on the floor of the large banquet area that had been set up outside the main auditorium in the Dallas Police Department Headquarters. Max wasn’t a fan of coming here, regardless of the event. In his opinion, the place was made for lawyers and politicians, not cops. Having to wear his dress uniform made it even worse. If it wasn’t for the fact that some of his fellow SWAT teammates were being recognized, he wouldn’t have come at all.

“Free doesn’t always mean good,” werewolf/SWAT officer Diego Martinez pointed out as he and another of Max’s teammates, Zane Kendrick, joined them.

The late afternoon award ceremony was packed with people, so it had taken a while for them to work their way through the buffet line and come over to the cocktail table in the corner they’d staked out. Clearly, Diego and Zane shared Max’s opinion of the food. They’d barely put anything on their plates.

“We should try and convince Chief Curtis to hold these events at the SWAT compound,” Max said. “Then we could grill some real food.”

Brooks chuckled at the suggestion. “I don’t see that happening. Chief Curtis isn’t a fan of ours these days. We’re never going to get him out to the compound unless it’s so he can arrest one of us.”

He was probably right about that, Max thought. Chief Curtis had suspended Max, Brooks, and their teammate Alex Trevino after they’d been caught breaking into a private research facility while looking for some girls who’d gone missing from Regional Texas College a few months ago. It wasn’t that they had gone into the place without a warrant that had pissed Curtis off. It was the fact that the facility had been owned by Councilman McDonald, one of the chief’s biggest political supporters. It hadn’t helped when they’d later disobeyed the chief’s orders to stay away from the case and continued their investigation into the girls’ disappearance, ultimately proving McDonald had been the one who’d kidnapped them. To save face, Chief Curtis had to pretend the suspension was a smokescreen, so Max and the others could expose the corrupt politician.

“It must have really chafed the chief’s ass to stand up in front of nearly half the DPD and give Alex a commendation for rescuing those college girls,” Diego said with a grin, his teeth a flash of white against his tan skin.

Max glanced at Diego. At six foot even, he was the shortest werewolf in the SWAT Pack, but what the guy lacked in height, he more than made up for in brawn. He was flat-out built like a fireplug. “You think he’s that petty?”

Diego snorted.

“No doubt about it,” Zane agreed in that British accent of his everyone in the Pack loved teasing him about, including Max. “I thought the chief was going to toss the award at Alex and tell him to pin the damn thing on himself.”

Max chuckled. He’d thought the same thing.

“It probably didn’t help that he had to pin medals on Khaki and Xander, too,” Brooks added. “Three commendations for SWAT in one night—that’s gotta burn.”

“Speaking of Khaki and Xander, where are they?” Max asked, looking around for his two pack mates Khaki Blake and Xander Riggs. “I thought they were going to join us as soon as they grabbed some food.”

Brooks picked up a crab puff that looked way too tiny for his gigantic hand. “Khaki was too burned out from spending most of the day at the courthouse for Jeremy’s sentencing hearing. She and Xander went home so she could chill out.”

Diego shook his head, mouth tight. “I still can’t believe that asshole wiggled out of the death penalty. He murdered one man and almost killed Khaki and Xander. Hell, he even shot a frigging dog. If that isn’t enough to get a guy a needle in the arm, I don’t know what is.”

It was a subject that had been rehashed a thousand times over the past year, both at the SWAT compound and in the local newspapers. It was hard to believe the trial had taken a year. It felt like only a few months since Jeremy Engler, a cop from Khaki’s past, had shown up in Dallas looking to settle a score with her and, by extension, her new boyfriend, Xander. To say things had gotten nasty was an understatement.

Khaki and Xander, as well as the dog—SWAT mascot, Tuffie—had thankfully made it through okay, but the case had dragged on endlessly in the courts. Jeremy’s lawyer had first gone with an insanity defense, which actually might have worked since Jeremy swore up and down that the entire Dallas SWAT team was filled with bloodthirsty monsters who had claws and fangs and would murder them all.

When the doctors and the judge had rejected that defense, his lawyer went with plan B—make Jeremy as sympathetic as possible. While Jeremy had been found guilty on all charges, the jury had bought the claims that his “episode” had been brought on by the stress of being a police officer out in Washington State and “losing the woman he loved to another man.” Today, he’d been sentenced to life without parole instead of the death penalty.

“I heard they’re sending him down to the Coffield Unit just south of here,” Zane said, picking at the food on his plate with disinterest. “That means he’ll be in the same prison as Frasheri and his crew of omegas.”

Max shook his head. Armend Frasheri was an Albanian mobster they’d put in prison a while back who’d used omega werewolves as muscle. Omegas were similar to alphas like Max and the other werewolves on the SWAT team in size and aggression, but unlike alphas, they had almost no control over their inner wolves.

“Serves the asshole right,” Brooks muttered. “If we’re lucky, maybe they’ll put Jeremy in a cell with an omega.”

Max was picturing Jeremy screaming his damn head off in the middle of the night as he realized he was bunking with a “monster” when his nose picked up an intriguing scent he’d never smelled before. Max didn’t have the best nose in the Pack, not by a long shot, but he was usually good at identifying scents. He turned his head this way and that, sniffing the air as he tried to figure out which part of the large room it was coming from. But it was no good. It seemed to be everywhere at once, surrounding him.

“Do you guys smell that?” he asked his teammates, interrupting a conversation they were having about making a run to the store for steaks and taking them back to the SWAT compound to grill.

“Smell what?” Diego asked, lifting his nose slightly and testing the air.

“I’m not sure how to describe it.” Max sniffed again, surprised none of the other guys had picked up on the delectable scent. “It’s sweet and spicy at the same time, like…I don’t know…maybe cinnamon and flowers?”

Diego and Zane stared blankly at him while Brooks shook his head.

“I don’t smell anything,” the big man said. “There are a lot of people in here. Maybe you’re picking up a combination of their scents.”

“Maybe,” Max said softly, though he didn’t think so. This was one very specific scent, not a blend of several. It was hard to explain how he knew that, but he did. All he could say for sure was that the scent had come out of nowhere. Like someone who hadn’t been there before had just walked into the room.

Not just anyone. A woman.

“I’m going to check it out,” Max said, setting his plate on the table.

He didn’t get more than two steps before Brooks put a hand on his shoulder. “Track down this scent if you’re that curious, but your eyes are already getting a yellow glow to them, so you need to keep it under control, okay?”

“Shit,” Max muttered. “Thanks.”

He hadn’t known he was so geeked up, but now that Brooks had pointed it out to him, he realized his heart was beating a little faster than normal. He wasn’t sure why his inner wolf was suddenly restless. Then again, he rarely understood why he lost control so easily. Even though he’d been a werewolf for more than four years, he still had issues with it.

After seeing how omega werewolves behaved, he was beginning to think he might not be an alpha at all but a whacked-out omega instead. Gage Dixon, the SWAT team commander and alpha of their pack of alpha werewolves, said that was bull. He insisted Max was an alpha through and through and that Max’s control issues were most likely related to the fact that he was barely eighteen when he turned—which made him the youngest alpha in the Pack—or to the traumatic circumstances surrounding his change. Max didn’t have any experience with the first explanation and preferred not to think about the second. He’d spent a good portion of his adult life trying to put that part of his past behind him. But since everyone in the Pack had gone through a traumatic experience when they’d changed into werewolves in the first place, that didn’t make much sense, either.

Whatever the reason, Max had to expend a lot more energy than anyone else in the Pack on keeping his fangs and claws retracted, his anger in check, and his eyes from flashing yellow at the worst possible times—like now.

Resorting to the lessons Gage and Brooks had taught him, Max closed his eyes and took slow, deep, calming breaths, turning his attention inward and consciously getting a handle on his excitement, heart rate, and breathing. When he opened his eyes again, Brooks was still standing there.

“Good?” Max asked.

“You’re good,” Brooks said.

Giving Brooks a nod, he turned and slowly made his way through the crowd. There had been over thirty commendations given out this afternoon, so the place was still packed with those police officers, their families, and their coworkers. Max had to be careful as he wove in and out of them while trying to let his nose guide him.

As he moved across the room, the woman’s scent grew stronger and even more intriguing. There were some aspects of her pheromones that seemed familiar, though it took him a while to pin down exactly what he was keying in on. Then it struck him—she was a werewolf.

He stopped and took a deep breath, letting her scent wash over him as he tried to figure out if she was an alpha, a beta, or an omega. Outside of Gage, most of the Pack hadn’t learned about the complexities of the werewolf world until recently. While they’d been surprised to find out there were different breeds of werewolves, they were even more stunned to discover there were female werewolves.

Max took another sniff and frowned. If the woman was a beta, she was different than any beta he’d ever met. And with all the werewolves showing up in Dallas lately looking for protection from hunters, he’d smelled a lot of betas.

As he continued across the lobby area in search of the woman, Max couldn’t help wondering if maybe there was a fourth kind of werewolf out there that none of them knew about. It would be kind of cool running into a completely new breed. Had she come here looking specifically for him and the other members of the SWAT Pack, to ask for protection from the hunters who’d been killing werewolves all over the country? If so, this could be an epic first meeting.

Max was almost on the far side of the room and quickly running out of places to search when he walked around a group of people talking about how amazing the Cowboys were playing this season and finally found her.

After spending so much time trying to track her down, he probably should have walked right up and introduced himself, but instead, Max found himself standing there, transfixed. She was turned away from him so he couldn’t see her face, but she was wearing a seriously sexy cocktail dress, her long, honey-blond hair trailing haphazardly over her shoulders and halfway down her back. The dress was one of those short, black numbers that hugged her slender curves and showed off her long legs. There was a crisscross, strappy thing going on in the back, too, which gave him teasing glimpses of smooth, creamy skin as well as confirming she wasn’t wearing a bra under there.

He followed the curve of her butt until he locked on her legs. What could he say? He’d always been a leg man, and this woman had legs for days! Between the glimpse of toned thighs the dress afforded him and the display of shapely calves accentuated by the high heels she wore, it was all he could do not to drop to his knees and nibble his way up and down those gorgeous legs.

Though it would surely be fun, that probably wouldn’t be the best way to make a first impression.

He wasn’t sure how he knew, but something about her demeanor made Max think she’d rather be somewhere else at the moment. Since she was alone, he wondered if someone had stood her up. If so, the guy must have been stupid as well as a jerk. But then she shifted her weight back and forth from one high heel to the other. Ah, that explained it.

Max waited, expecting the female werewolf to smell him and turn around. Even though he was close enough for her to pick up his scent easily, she never looked his way. Finally, he gave up and walked over to her, moving around to stand in front of her.

He hoped he didn’t actually gasp out loud—that would have been cheesy—but he couldn’t help it. Saying she was gorgeous would have been an injustice. With smiling, blue-green eyes, the poutiest lips he’d ever seen, and a button nose that begged to be kissed, she came about as close to physical perfection as a person could get.

He gave her a grin. “You know, you’d probably be a lot more comfortable if you kicked off those heels and walked around in bare feet.”

She laughed, and the sound of it was as beautiful as she was. “Is it that obvious?”

“I’m afraid so.” He made a show of looking left and right, as if he didn’t want anyone to hear, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I get the same look on my face when I wear uncomfortable shoes.”

Her eyes danced with amusement. “Funny, you don’t strike me as the high-heel type.”

He chuckled. He loved a woman with a quippy sense of humor. “I go more for the strappy wedge kind.”

She nodded knowingly. “Makes sense. Someone your height would look much better in a wedge.”

“Good to have my fashion sense confirmed.” He smiled. “My name’s Max. Nice to meet you.”

Returning his smile, she took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “Lana.”

This close, her scent enveloped him so completely it was almost intoxicating. She held on to his hand a little longer than was customary, too. Not that he was complaining. He glanced casually at her other hand, checking for a wedding ring. He didn’t see one. Before he could go ahead and do something completely crazy, like propose marriage right then and there, a dark-haired woman in a short, red dress joined them, two plates of hors d’oeuvres in her hands.

“They were all out of spinach puffs, so I got you these instead. I think they’re squash blossoms with some kind of cheese,” she said, handing one of the plates to Lana before giving Max a smile. “Who’s this?”

“This is Max,” Lana said. “We were just discussing the comfort benefits of wedges over heels.”

The dark-haired woman took the strange topic in stride. “Did you reach any conclusions?”

Lana shook her head. “Not really. We both decided going barefoot would probably be the best idea.”

“I totally agree,” the woman said, then offered Max her hand. “By the way, my name is Brandy Perez.”

“One of my best friends in the world,” Lana added. “In fact, these heels actually belong to her.”

Brandy shrugged. “They look better on you than me anyway. And before you ask, no, they don’t have a bar set up—I looked everywhere. I don’t know why I believed you when you said this would be a great place to party.”

“Because you’re gullible?” Lana suggested.

“Actually,” Max said, “I did see some servers walking around with trays of white wine a few minutes ago on the other side of the room.”

Brandy lifted a perfectly arched brow. “Seriously? You aren’t just saying that to get rid of me so you can be alone with Lana, are you?”

Max’s mouth twitched. “I am trying to get time alone with Lana, but I promise I’m not lying about the wine. They always have it at these award ceremonies.”

Brandy glanced at Lana.

“Go ahead,” Lana told her. “I’ll be fine with Max.”

Brandy’s lips curved as she looked Max up and down. “I’m sure you will. I’ll be back in a few—unless I run into some fine specimen of male hunkiness of my own. In which case, I might not be back for a while.”

Lana laughed as Brandy disappeared into the crowd. “Speaking of award ceremonies,” she said to Max, “I didn’t see you on the stage getting a commendation, so I’m guessing you must be here to support someone who did?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Some of the members of my team got recognized today. How about you? Your boyfriend getting a commendation?”

Max thought he was being pretty damn smooth, but the smile tugging at Lana’s lips told him she saw right through his deception.

“Nope, no boyfriend,” she said. “Actually, it was my dad. Brandy took forever getting dressed. Then we got stuck in traffic. We barely made it here in time to see him get the award. I had to watch from the back of the auditorium.”

That explained why Max hadn’t picked up Lana’s luscious scent earlier. And while he was relieved she didn’t have a boyfriend, it made him wonder which of his fellow cops getting a commendation this afternoon could possibly have a daughter this smokin’ hot.

Max opened his mouth to ask her who her father was when another DPD officer walked by with a plate filled with a collection of various hors d’oeuvres. While Max wasn’t impressed with the selection of food, Lana looked at the appetizers longingly, even though she still had the ones her friend had given her. Maybe she wasn’t big on squash blossoms. He didn’t blame her.

“Would you like me to get you something else to eat?” he asked.

She glanced down at her plate, then shook her head. “Thanks, but unfortunately, the spinach puffs were the only thing remotely edible, which is probably why they’re all gone. I can’t believe they’re trying to pass this stuff off as food.”

He grinned. “I was just thinking the same thing a little while ago. I’m planning to head out as soon as this thing is over so I can get some real food.”

She leaned in close and gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Maybe we can slip out now while no one is looking. I can drop my car keys off with Brandy and we can disappear into the night. I’d just about kill for a slice of pizza.”

Any other time, Max would have been stoked to hear that. In his opinion, there wasn’t anything sexier than a woman who loved pizza. But right then, all he could think about was how his body was reacting to Lana’s nearness. Not only was his pulse racing, but his claws and fangs were dangerously close to coming out. He only hoped his eyes weren’t turning gold.

On the upside, at least he now knew for sure she was a werewolf. He could smell it in her pheromones. That was probably why they hit it off so well. Well, there was another reason, but he wasn’t about to go there—even if a little wolf voice in the back of his head whispered maybe he should.

Lana was telling him about an awesome pizza place that wasn’t too far away, wondering if he’d be interested in checking it out, but instead of answering her, he went in a completely different direction.

“It’s so cool finding another of our kind here,” he said. “I totally didn’t expect it.”

She didn’t seem to mind that he’d changed the subject, but she looked a bit confused. “Another of our kind? Are you a pescatarian, too?”

Max chuckled. That body and those looks combined with a wicked sense of humor? It was like she was made for him. A werewolf who didn’t eat meat? Now that was epically funny.

Unless it was true, in which case it was a little strange.

Before he could say anything, Lana leaned over to look at something behind him, her lips curving into a smile. Max turned to see who she was looking at and was a little surprised to find Deputy Chief Hal Mason. The deputy chief was in charge of the police department’s specialized Tactical Division, which included the mounted police, canine unit, helicopter support, EOD, and SWAT. As a high-ranking officer in the department, Mason had to attend every award ceremony, but this time he’d been recognized for his commitment to developing his entire division, especially SWAT.

“Hey, Dad.” Lana stepped around Max to give Mason a hug. “I was looking for you and Mom earlier, but you were deep in conversation with some people and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Max picked his jaw up from the floor and shoved it back into place. Lana was Mason’s daughter? How the hell was that even possible? They didn’t look anything alike. Maybe she was adopted.

Mason pulled away to regard her fondly. “You didn’t have to come to this thing. I know how much this kind of stuff bores you.”

Lana made a face. “Of course I did. It’s not every day my dad gets a big, prestigious award.” She grinned. “You looked quite dashing up there, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Mason smiled…for all of two seconds. Then his face took on its signature serious expression that seemed to be glued there permanently. “Since you’re here, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Giving Max the stink eye, Mason gently took his daughter’s arm, clearly intending to lead her away. But apparently Lana wasn’t the kind of woman who liked to be led around by anyone. She firmly disengaged her arm from her father’s grip, arching a brow that would have done the commander of the SWAT team proud.

“Dad, I’m talking to Max,” she said. “Maybe I could meet your friend later?”

Mason scowled at his daughter like she was one of his junior officers. “I know you were talking to him. That’s why I came over. Officer Lowry has to go back to work immediately, if not sooner. He’s on the SWAT team and he’s always quite busy.”

Lana gave Max a shrug and a smile. “Later perhaps?”

“Officer Lowry will be busy later, too,” Mason said. “In fact, he’s going to be busy every day for the next month or so.”

Damn, Max thought as the deputy chief led Lana away. Mason didn’t want him anywhere near his daughter—that much was obvious. Cockblocked by the deputy chief of the Dallas PD. Could it get any worse? As Max watched Mason introduce his beautiful daughter to some good-looking lawyer type in an expensive suit with metrosexual hair and Italian leather shoes that probably cost as much as the payments on Max’s new Camaro, he decided it could indeed get worse. Max felt the hackles on the back of his neck rise as the pretty boy reached out and put a possessive hand on Lana’s arm.

“Watch where you’re putting your hands, jackass, or you’ll draw back a nub,” Max growled under his breath.

Shit.

Max closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was harder to get a handle on his inner wolf this time, mostly because he was so pissed at Mason for interrupting his conversion with Lana. The fact that her scent lingered in the air didn’t help. It made it difficult to think about anything but her curves, smile, and creamy skin. Not the kind of thoughts he wanted to have in his head when he was attempting to find his calm place.

He had no idea how long it took him to tame his wolf half, but by the time he opened his eyes, Lana was nowhere to be seen. Unfortunately, neither was pretty boy. Why the hell would someone like Lana run off with a guy like that? Besides the nice hair, fancy suit, and expensive shoes, not to mention the money.

Max considered looking for her, but then realized he probably didn’t want to find her, not if it turned out she was hanging on pretty boy’s arm. Cursing, he headed across the room to rejoin his teammates.

Brooks, Diego, Zane, and Gage were standing around the same small cocktail table, a sheet of paper in front of them with a shopping list for what look like a serious cookout on it. Max glanced at his watch. By the time they got out of here, bought all the food on that list, and grilled the stuff, it’d be eight o’clock. Not that it mattered. Steak tasted good no matter what time of night it was, especially when followed by a game of volleyball.

Gage looked up from the list, his dark eyes curious. “Brooks said you were off looking for some scent that caught your attention. Any luck?”

Max glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot—no one with normal human ears at least. “Yeah. It was a female werewolf.”

The other guys stopped debating whether to get hot dogs or not and stared at him.

“Seriously?” Brooks did a double take. “You sure she’s another werewolf? I didn’t smell her.”

Max shrugged, refusing to ponder why he seemed to be the only one who recognized Lana for what she was. “I’m sure. Or pretty sure. She smells a little like a beta, but totally different than a beta at the same time. She’s like no werewolf I’ve ever smelled before.” He looked at Gage. “There’s not some other kind of werewolf out there you haven’t told us about, is there? One that doesn’t fall into the three categories we already know about.”

“Not that I know of.” Gage frowned. “What makes her so special?”

“You mean besides her unique scent?” Max asked.

Gage nodded.

Max refrained from revealing the part about Lana being the most amazing woman he’d ever met in his life and that she could mess with his control over his werewolf half simply by standing too close to him. Instead, he focused on the serious stuff.

“She never gave me a single indication she recognized me as a werewolf the whole time we were talking. I swear, it’s like she didn’t even notice,” Max said. “There’s something else, though, that definitely doesn’t fit with anything we know about werewolves?”

“What’s that?” Brooks prompted.

“She’s a pescatarian.”

It was Zane’s turn to frown. “What’s that?”

“A vegetarian who eats fish, eggs, and dairy, but not meat,” Max explained. “I thought she was joking at the time, but now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure she wasn’t.”

That seemed to shake the guys more than his announcement that there was a werewolf in the room they couldn’t smell. Max could understand why. Regardless of the kind of werewolf they’d run into, two basic facts had always held true: Werewolves ate a lot of food to make up for the speed at which their bodies burned calories. And the majority of their diet was composed of meat. Gage had told them it had something to do with a werewolf needing a lot of protein to repair all the damage they were constantly sustaining. Which was why Lana probably wasn’t a strict vegetarian.

“A werewolf who doesn’t eat meat?” Zane looked at Gage. “Is that even possible?”

Before that question could lead to a long, meaningless argument that had nothing to do with the current situation, Max figured he should tell them the big news.

“Oh, and while we’re talking about what makes her different,” he said, “I should probably mention she’s Deputy Chief Mason’s daughter.”

His teammates stared at him, stunned. Gage in particular looked as though Max had just smacked him with an axe handle.

“What makes you so sure Mason is her father?” Gage asked hesitantly, not like he doubted Max, but as if he was praying Max was wrong.

“Well, there was the part where she said, ‘Hey, Dad,’ when he came over to us. That was sort of a dead giveaway,” Max said dryly. “Then there was the part where Mason told Lana he wanted to introduce her to some pretty boy lawyer and suggested I was going to be too busy with overtime for the next month to even think about seeing her again. That kind of screamed overprotective father to me.”

Gage blew out a breath. “Okay, I didn’t see that coming.”

“You think Mason knows we’re werewolves?” Brooks asked quietly. “If his own daughter is one, he has to be able to recognize the signs.”

His teammates looked at each other, concern written plainly on their faces. It was one thing having people like Jeremy Engler or Armend Frasheri know about their identities. Those guys were psychopaths no one was likely to ever believe. But a deputy chief in the Dallas PD was someone people would take seriously.

“If you’d asked me five minutes ago, I would have said there’s no way in hell Mason knows,” Gage said. “But now? It would be pressing the limits of credibility to assume he doesn’t.”

“What do we do?” Diego asked softly. Crap, he looked ready to bolt.

“For now, nothing,” Gage said. “If Max is right about this, it’s likely Mason has known about us for years. If he’d wanted to do something with that information, he already would have done it. He’s probably just as worried about this secret getting out as we are. He wouldn’t want it coming back on his daughter.”

Brooks nodded. “Makes sense. Are you going to talk to him about it?”

“When the time is right, yes,” Gage said. “It’s not like I can walk into his office and bring it up.”

Max snorted. No kidding.

He was just wondering if he should circle the room looking for Lana again when a now-familiar scent drifted across his nose. His pack mates forgotten for the moment, Max turned to see Lana coming his way, her hips swaying suggestively and doing crazy things to his pulse. He was so focused on the dazzling smile Lana gave him that he didn’t even realize Brandy was with her until both women were right in front of him.

“I was worried you’d already left,” Lana said, her intoxicating scent washing over him like a gentle wave. “I wanted to apologize for my father. I don’t know why he was acting like that. Sometimes I think he forgets I’m twenty-three years old and can take care of myself.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Max grinned. “I’m glad you found me. I thought you might have run off with that guy in the fancy suit.”

Lana laughed. “Oh, the suit definitely tried to get me to leave with him. He even said he’d take me out to some fancy French restaurant named Chambre Française that everybody raves about. I told him I wasn’t interested because I already had another offer for dinner.” She gave him a sexy smile. “You were going to take me out for that slice of pizza, weren’t you?”

“Definitely. I love pizza.” He grinned, about to suggest they split right then until he remembered he was wearing his dress uniform. “I need to stop by my place and change first, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” she said. “In fact, I was going to mention that I need to get out of this dress.”

“I could help you with that, if you need a hand,” Max said before he could stop himself.

Lana gave him an appraising look, her lips curving. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I can manage…just this once. Why don’t you pick me up at my parents’ house? That’s where I’m staying while I’m in town. I can be ready to go in forty minutes.”

Max didn’t like the sound of that. If she was staying at her parents’ house while she was in Dallas, that meant she didn’t live here and was only visiting. Crap, dude, slow down and take this one step at a time. They hadn’t even gone on a date yet and he was already worrying about the future.

“That works for me,” he said. “Let me get the address from you.”

He was just reaching for his phone when one of his teammates—Diego, he thought—cleared his throat. Crap, he’d totally forgotten they were standing there. Turning, he quickly made introductions.

While Lana typed her address into his phone, Brandy glanced at the grocery list on the table, her eyes widening.

“You must be feeding an army with all that stuff,” she remarked.

Diego flashed her a grin. “Just us and the rest of our team. We’re having a party tonight out at the SWAT compound with some of our friends.”

Brandy returned his smile. “Is that right?”

Max would be the first to admit he didn’t know a whole hell of a lot about this kind of stuff, but there definitely seemed to be some sparks between Lana’s friend and Diego.

“I sent myself a text so I’d have your number,” Lana said, handing Max his phone. “See you in forty minutes? Actually, better make it an hour. I have to drop Brandy off at her place on the way.”

Brandy shook her head, never taking her eyes off Diego. “I think I’m good, Lana. If you guys don’t mind me crashing your party?”

“Not at all,” Diego said, his grin broadening.

Brandy licked her lips. “Let me make a quick run to the ladies’ room and I’ll be ready to go.”

Lana looked at Max. “So, forty minutes?”

He nodded. “I’ll be there.”

As Lana walked away, Max had a hard time figuring out where to look—her sexy legs or her equally sexy butt. Both were amazing. Only when she’d completely disappeared from sight did he turn back to the guys to find them grinning at him.

“What?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Brooks said. “I’m guessing you’re not going to make it to the cookout tonight, huh?”

Like Brooks even needed to ask. “What do you think of Lana? She smells like some kind of beta, right?”

Brook shrugged. “She definitely smells like some kind of werewolf, but the scent is faint. I wouldn’t have picked it up if she wasn’t standing right in front of me.” He eyed Max thoughtfully. “I’m surprised you were able to pick it up from across the room. You don’t have the greatest of noses.”

“Maybe it’s because she’s The One for Max,” Zane, the Pack’s one and only werewolf of London, pointed out.

“Maybe,” Max said noncommittally.

If Zane expected him to deny it, he was going to be disappointed. The idea of every werewolf having one perfect soul mate for him, or her, wasn’t a big deal to Max. None of the guys in the Pack who’d already met their one-in-a-billion significant other were complaining, but some of his other pack mates had started wondering if they had a say in any of it.

The legend that there was a woman out there for each of them who would accept them for what they were sounded cool at first. Who didn’t want to meet an awesome woman and be in a relationship that didn’t require you to hide what the hell you really were? But then it started happening over and over again, against all possible odds, and after a while, it seemed like the guys were falling in love whether they were ready for it or not. Hell, for ridiculous reasons of his own, Remy Boudreaux had tried to fight his attraction to his mate, Triana Bellamy, and he’d made himself physically ill from trying to resist her.

While it wasn’t something any of them would admit out loud, Max knew a few of the currently unattached guys in the Pack were scared the same genetic mutation that had turned them into werewolves in the first place was now mating them up with women of its choosing simply to make the Pack stronger for what everyone assumed was a coming war with the hunters.

If there was some kind of undeniable force out there pairing them up with the first suitable woman who came along, Max could understand why they might be freaked out. No one wanted to think their free will was being stripped away and replaced by pack instinct. But the whole idea of finding that one perfect woman he was meant to be with had never worried him, which was probably why he’d been one of the first werewolves in the Pack to embrace the idea of finding a soul mate.

Of course, if he was being honest with himself, he’d admit it was because he never truly thought it could happen to him. After all the crap that had happened with his old man, he knew he was a little messed up. What woman would want to deal with all his baggage?

But maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe Lana was The One for him. It was an appealing—and scary—thought.

Okay, that was enough introspection for now.

“I’m going to get out of here,” Max said. “Take good care of Brandy, huh?”

He glanced at his watch, quickening his step as he headed for the exit. He was going to have to hurry if he wanted to change clothes and pick up Lana on time.

Max was halfway across the parking lot when he smelled Gage behind him. He stopped and turned to see his boss eyeing him with obvious concern.

“What’s up, Sarge?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you about Lana,” Gage said. “You know Zane’s probably right about her being The One, don’t you? The fact that you picked up her scent all the way across the room when Brooks, of all people, didn’t has to mean something. It sounds a hell of a lot like what happened to Remy when he met Triana.”

“Yeah, I know,” Max said, trying to sound casual. “It’s not a big deal.”

Gage lifted a brow. “Not a big deal? Really?”

Max wasn’t surprised his commander had followed him out here. Gage was the alpha of the Pack. He worried about all of his guys. But since pulling Max out of the downward spiral that his life had become after his family’s death, Gage had become more than his pack alpha. He was like a father to him.

Being the leader of a pack of headstrong alphas meant Gage frequently had to get physical with them. In some cases, there was simply no other way to get a jacked-up werewolf back in line. But because of Max’s background, Gage tended to be more proactive than reactive, putting a little extra effort into watching out for him and trying to make sure he didn’t get too out of control in the first place.

Not that Gage didn’t have to get physical with Max on occasion. Sometimes there was no way to avoid it. But Max knew that, unlike his real father, the SWAT team commander would never lay a hand on him if it wasn’t a crisis situation, and that made all the difference.

While this situation was nowhere near crisis mode, Gage was obviously worried about how Max would handle finding The One. Max supposed he couldn’t blame him. Some of the other members of the Pack who’d already found their soul mates had gotten themselves in a buttload of trouble in the process.

Xander had almost been kicked out of the Pack when he’d fallen for Khaki. Eric Becker had inherited an entire beta pack along with his mate, Jayna Winston. Landry Cooper had been blown out of a high-rise building for his wife, Everly. Alex Trevino had gotten suspended for his girlfriend, Lacey Barton. And Remy had run through the streets of New Orleans in wolf form in order to be with Triana. Hell, even Gage’s relationship with his wife, Mackenzie, had nearly ended in catastrophe, almost sending the entire Pack on the run to South America.

Up to this point, finding The One had come with a lot of problems for almost all the members of the Pack. It made sense Gage would want to keep the same thing from happening to Max. Then again, maybe Gage simply wanted to protect Max from getting hurt emotionally. Since Max hadn’t been in a serious relationship with a woman in his life—booty calls and one-night stands didn’t count—it wasn’t an irrational concern.

Max appreciated that, but it wasn’t necessary.

“Seriously, Sarge, it’s really not a big deal. I’m not a player like Remy used to be or an adrenaline junkie like Cooper, and I’m not going to do anything crazy like Alex and get suspended. I’m going to take my time with Lana and make sure the Pack is protected.”

“And if she is The One for you?” Gage prompted, a smile turning up the corners of his lips. “What then?”

Max almost said that any woman would have to be crazy to tie herself to him, but he stopped himself. “If someone as amazing as Lana is the woman I’m supposed to be with for the rest of my life, you’re not going to see me turning my nose up at her, if that’s what you’re asking. If Lana is The One, I’ll take it step by step, slow and easy.”

Gage let out a sound that was half snort, half growl. “Take it from someone who’s been there: if Lana turns out to be your soul mate, going step by step, not to mention slow and easy, might be tougher than you think. Make sure you focus on staying in control of yourself, for Lana’s sake if nothing else.”

His commander had a point there. Keeping his shift under control around Lana was going to be tough. But he’d do it.

“I will,” Max said. “I won’t do anything to risk the Pack.”

“I know,” Gage said. “One more thing before you go. Worrying about The One and how you’ll deal with that isn’t the only thing you need to think about. Keep in mind the woman you find so fascinating happens to be Deputy Chief Mason’s daughter. You screw this up, and you won’t just lose The One. You might end up losing your career, too.”