Eric Warden’s house looked no different from others on the block. Diego had thought that, as Shiftertown leader, Eric would have commandeered one of the biggest ones. Would at least insist on having the most windows, or more plants in his yard, or something.
But the house—a one-story, long, plain building—looked the same as the houses to either side of it. A small front porch ran the length of the house, with thick posts holding the porch roof in place. The porch had been added on, Diego saw, and he noticed that many houses on the street had similar additions. Shifters must be handy with lumber.
Diego opened the screen door before knocking on the front door, which was jerked open almost immediately by Eric Warden himself.
Tall, green-eyed, brown hair buzzed short, Eric wore a muscle shirt that revealed a scrolled black tatt that cupped his shoulder and trailed down his arm. His Collar, a thick silver and black band, hugged his throat. He regarded Diego with an unwelcoming expression.
“I’m here to see Cassidy,” Diego said.
Eric’s glittering eyes were hard to meet, but Diego didn’t let himself look away. Diego had faced deadly criminals—hard, hard men with no remorse, who would shoot a handful of people for the hell of it and go home for a good night’s sleep. But, somehow, Diego thought, even those men would back down from Eric Warden’s stare.
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.