Wolf Untamed Read online

  Even more bizarre, none of the suspects he and his teammates had taken down could explain why they’d done what they had. Hell, they couldn’t even remember doing it. Things had so gotten bad the Special Threat Assessment Team—aka STAT—a joint FBI-CIA supernatural task force very few people had heard of, had started sniffing around to see if there was something paranormal involved. Diego had worked with the group in Los Angeles a little while back, and he’d gladly take their help now. But so far, all they had was a bunch of whacked-out suspects with no connection to one another. So, STAT had backed off and was letting the SWAT team deal with the problem. Yeah, the feds were helpful like that.

  “It doesn’t matter if this is another one of those cases,” Diego finally said. “That guy walked right into a crowded diner and shot two cops, then took the rest of the customers hostage. We don’t need to understand why he did it. We just need to get him out.”

  Beside him, Trey’s blue gaze strayed to the front of the diner, his usually serious face even more solemn. “I agree, but I’d feel a lot better about this if we could see through those windows.”

  “Agreed,” Connor said. “I’ll be on the roof across the street with my sniper rifle, but with the blinds pulled down like they are, there’s not a whole lot I can do.”

  “I’m not sure I can do anything about the blinds, but I’ll try,” Diego told him. “Be ready to come in when I give the signal.”

  Diego wouldn’t be wearing a radio, but with their enhanced hearing, his pack mates would be able to hear him give the code phrase if things went sideways.

  “We’ll be there,” Hale promised before he and Trey walked over to stand by the cluster of patrol cars forming a semicircle in front of the diner.

  “Be careful,” Connor said, then turned to jog across the street.

  Mike came out of the team’s operations RV a moment later, giving Diego a nod as he moved over to join Hale and Trey.

  Taking a deep breath, Diego slowly walked toward the front door of the diner, trying to appear confident without looking threatening. That was difficult to do when you were as broad and muscular as he was, not to mention wearing a dark-blue tactical uniform and combat boots. He did it anyway, just in case the bad guy was looking out the window.

  Which he obviously was since the door opened before Diego even had a chance to knock.

  A man peeked out the crack, regarding him suspiciously before his eyes darted around wildly like he was looking for something or someone behind Diego. “What do you want?”

  “I’m Officer Martinez. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

  “I’m done talking to you. Go away!”

  Fear and anger rolled off the man in equal measures, his gaze once more going this way and that. Like he was strung out on something. Diego inhaled, trying to figure out what drug it was. If the guy was using something like heroin, fentanyl, or PCP, Diego should be able to smell it, but he couldn’t pick up anything. Maybe the guy was on something completely new.

  “I would, but the camera crew you asked for is here,” Diego said. “Before we can let them go in there, I need to make sure it’s safe. The department’s lawyers won’t let civilians in if I can’t assure their well-being.”

  He knew it was a long shot, but the one demand the guy had made before he hung up on Diego was that he wanted a news crew with a camera so he could tell everyone about the monsters. It might simply be the rantings of a madman, but the first rule of negotiating was to figure out what the suspect wanted and make them believe you could give it to them. If lying to the guy about the news crew was what it took to get inside, Diego was damn well going to do it.

  The guy stared at him, eyes glassy and heart pounding like he’d run a marathon—or was scared to death.

  “I’m not armed,” Diego volunteered when the man didn’t say anything. Lifting his hands, he slowly turned in a complete circle. “I just need to come in and make sure everyone is okay. Then we can go from there. How does that sound?”

  The man continued to look suspicious, but after a few seconds, he nodded. “Okay. But you’re the only one who can come in. No other cops.”

  Without waiting for an answer, the guy pushed away the rolling rack of dishes he’d put in front of the door. Unlocking it, he opened it wider, then stepped back, gun in his hands trained on Diego.

  “Hurry up and get in here!” he ordered.

  Diego stepped inside, pushing the door closed behind him.

  “Lock it,” the man said, motioning with the gun. “Then move the rack back in front.”

  Diego turned to lock the door, only to freeze when a scent completely out of left field hit him like a baseball bat. There was a young, newly turned male beta werewolf in the diner. Diego knew what kind of werewolf he was because every type of werewolf—alpha, beta, and omega—had a distinct scent. Another thing he could smell was fear, and this beta was so scared right then that he was on the edge of losing control.

  Shit.

  As he turned the lock, Diego looked directly at Connor, Trey, and Mike through the glass. “There’s a new werewolf in here, and he’s barely keeping it together,” he whispered too softly for anyone in the diner to hear him, but loud enough for his pack mates to pick up everything he said.

  “Say the word and we’re there,” Trey murmured.

  Giving them an almost imperceptible nod, Diego rolled the plastic rack in front of the door. It wouldn’t really slow his pack mates down when they came in, but if putting it back helped keep the gunman calm, Diego had no problem doing it.

  When he turned around, Diego resisted the urge to look at the beta werewolf right away, instead focusing on the man who’d taken the diner hostage. Average height and in his midforties, he wore a silk suit and a pair of Italian leather loafers that were probably worth more combined than Diego’s top-of-the-line large-screen TV. His blond hair was wild and unkempt, but Diego got a whiff of the styling gel in it and even that smelled expensive. The gold ring on the man’s right hand was as pricey looking as everything else, with a crest on it that looked like it was from some kind of fancy Ivy League school.

  Maybe this situation was like all the other calls he and his teammates had gone on lately.

  Because nothing about the guy screamed that he was your everyday garden-variety hostage taker. Well, except for the desperate look in his eyes, sweat beading on his forehead, gun in his hand, slight smear of blood on his jaw, and all the terrified people in the diner. Then there were the two SIG Sauers stuffed in the guy’s waistband. They were standard DPD issue exactly like the one Diego had left in the SUV, which meant the hostage taker had gotten them from the cops he’d shot. The table beside him was strewn with cell phones he’d obviously taken from the hostages.

  Still keeping an eye on the man with the gun, Diego took a second to look around. Two waitresses, two cooks, and a younger guy who was probably the dishwasher cowered behind the counter while all of the other hostages—including the beta werewolf—were huddled on the far side of the diner, sitting on the floor.

  The teen boy was kneeling beside one of the patrol officers who’d been shot, pressing a dishrag to the gunshot wound at the officer’s shoulder. The teen’s breathing was a little fast and his heart was thumping hard, but he was holding it together—for now. Diego remembered what it was like right after he’d turned, when the slightest bit of stress would have his fangs and claws ripping out all on their own—usually at the worst possible time.

  This kid was a beta, though, which meant he was smaller, less aggressive, and not as prone to violent outbursts as Diego had been when he first became an alpha. Still, this was a tense situation. There was blood everywhere, a diner full of terrified people, an unhinged guy with a gun, and dozens of cops outside with more firepower. It could definitely push a new werewolf—even a beta—over the edge. Diego needed to get the kid out of here soon, before this situation became even messier
than it already was. Because a teenager sprouting fangs and claws definitely wouldn’t look good on the evening news.

  A pretty woman with long, golden-brown hair and features so similar to the kid’s that she had to be his mother was on the floor near the other cop, using a towel to stanch the blood seeping through his pant leg from a shot to the thigh. While the two cops didn’t appear to be in immediate danger, getting them medical attention was still a priority. Diego gave them a nod, getting two back in return.

  Diego glanced at the gunman to find him staring straight ahead, his eyes glazed over as he muttered to himself in a tone so low and fast, it was incomprehensible. It seemed like the guy was seconds from passing out, but Diego had dealt with enough unstable people to know even one sudden movement could change everything in a situation like this. So, he simply wouldn’t do anything sudden—until he had to.

  Instead, he turned his attention to the beta werewolf again. Before today, the youngest werewolf Diego had ever met was eighteen, but this kid couldn’t be more than fifteen, sixteen at the most, and he couldn’t help wondering how the boy had turned.

  His gaze moved to the woman he assumed was the kid’s mother. Even though she was focused on keeping pressure on the cop’s wound, she kept glancing at the boy out of the corner of her eye. Did she know her son was a werewolf, or had he hidden the change from her?

  The sudden urge to protect the young beta from both the gunman and possible exposure was unlike anything Diego had ever felt before. His gums tingled as his fangs threatened to come out, and he bit back a curse. Taking a deep, calming breath, he focused on the gunman to see the guy staring at him, eyes narrowing in suspicion, as if he’d never seen Diego before. In a flash, the man lifted the weapon and aimed it at him.

  Diego stiffened. A werewolf could absorb a lot of punishment, but a bullet through the heart or head would end him just as fast as it would anyone else.

  “You know, this would be a lot easier if I knew what to call you,” he said calmly, ignoring the gun. “I’m Diego. What’s your name?”

  “Ken,” the guy finally muttered after a long, tense delay.

  Getting the guy to tell him his name was a good start, at least. Even if he kept the gun pointed at Diego.

  “I know you don’t want this situation getting any worse than it already is, Ken, so maybe you can lower your weapon. Then we can talk about why you took all these people hostage.”

  Ken looked at him like he was a million miles away, and Diego wondered if he’d even heard him. Hand shaking, he slowly lowered the gun, only to immediately jerk it back up. It was as if there was a fight going on inside the guy. Part of him wanted to put down the gun, while another part wanted to pull the trigger.

  Just when it seemed like the guy was going to have a complete breakdown, his eyes abruptly cleared and he lowered the weapon.

  “He makes people do things,” Ken said softly, the words tortured, like it was a struggle to get them out.

  “Are you saying someone forced you to come in here and take these people hostage?” Diego prompted.

  Even though he’d asked the question softly, the words set Ken off anyway.

  “You don’t believe me!” he shouted. “Monsters are real, dammit. And I can prove it.”

  Backing away, Ken swept his weapon around the inside of the diner before finally pointing it straight at the kid. The beta werewolf’s eyes went wide with fear. He looked like he was half a second from losing it.

  Shit.

  Diego lifted his hands in a placating gesture, desperate to get the guy’s attention back on him. “Take it easy, Ken. I believe in monsters.”

  “No, you don’t!” Ken swung his weapon in Diego’s direction. “You don’t believe me. No one does. Monsters are all around us. People don’t realize it because they look just like the rest of us on the outside, but on the inside they’re ugly and evil.”

  Diego opened his mouth to say something he hoped would calm Ken down before he totally went over the edge, but the guy cut him off before he could get a word out.

  “You said there was someone here with a camera,” Ken said, taking a step closer to Diego. “Get them in here. I can’t hold on much longer, and the world needs to know about the monsters.”

  Diego was ready to dismiss the psychotic rant for what it was, but then Ken swung his weapon away from him, leveling it at the kid again with a look in his eyes that was unsettling as hell.

  The answer hit him like a ton of bricks. Shit. Somehow, Ken had figured out the kid was a werewolf. Maybe he’d seen the claws and fangs, or the glowing eyes. Either way, Ken knew, and he intended to expose that fact to the world.

  From the panicked expression on the boy’s face, he knew it, too. Yellow glimmered in his eyes, a sure sign his body was trying to shift. It was a natural response when a person’s inner wolf felt threatened.

  Diego slowly moved until he was positioned in between Ken and the boy on the floor. “You have to know there’s no way they’re ever going to allow that camera crew in here while there are police officers bleeding to death. You’re going to have to let the paramedics take them outside.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Diego saw both cops shake their heads, indicating they wanted to stay. Because that’s what good cops did—risked their lives for others. But Diego wanted to get everyone out of here alive, and it started with the two of them.

  “Look, you’re simply giving up two injured people,” Diego pointed out when Ken hesitated. “You do that, and you get everything you want in return. You know you have to do this.”

  It felt like the whole room was holding its collective breath, waiting to see what the unbalanced man with the gun would do. A few feet away, the beautiful woman on the floor looked from her son to Ken, then finally fixed all her attention on Diego.

  Her brown eyes were warm, like whiskey mixed with honey, and Diego would have enjoyed getting lost in them. Unfortunately, right now wasn’t the time for that.

  Sudden movement in Ken’s direction had Diego snapping his head around to see the man squeezing his temples with both hands, like he was trying to make some kind of horrible pain go away. Grip tight on the gun, he smacked the butt of the weapon against his head several times, his eyes clenched closed in obvious agony, fresh sweat beading on his forehead. But when he opened his eyes a moment later, they were clearer and more aware than they’d been since Diego had first stepped into the diner.

  “Get the cops out of here now,” Ken said, breath coming in gasps as he continued to press his fists against his temples “Before he makes me stop you.”

  Diego had no idea who he was talking about, but he wasn’t going to waste the opportunity while he tried to figure it out. Bringing paramedics in with gurneys would take too long, so he was going to have to improvise.

  “You four,” Diego said, pointing at two big guys and two younger women huddled close to the wall near the cops. “Help me get the two officers outside.”

  Diego could easily have picked up the injured cops himself, but this way, he’d be able to get the four hostages out with them. The kid moved the dish rack aside while his mom held open the door. Diego had every intention of shoving them out the door along with the others, but then Ken was there, his eyes looking positively vacant as he reached out and grabbed the kid’s shoulder, dragging him back into the diner.

  And Mom wasn’t leaving without her kid.

  “They stay here,” Ken said, wrapping his arm tightly around the kid as he backed away from the door, the barrel of the automatic waving around wildly, threatening everyone in the place even as he glared at Diego. “I know what you were trying to do. You don’t care about the truth, but I have to stop him. I can’t let him get away with what he’s done. Don’t you see we’re all just a bunch of puppets to him?”

  The vein at Ken’s temple throbbed, and he gripped the gun so tightly his knuckles were white. T
he people huddled in the back of the diner must have known things were going to get ugly in a minute because they visibly started to panic, more than a few of them eyeing the door like they were going to make a mad dash for the exit.

  That would be suicide.

  Tears filled Ken’s eyes even as he lifted the gun and pressed it against the kid’s head. Like he genuinely didn’t want to kill the boy but couldn’t stop himself.

  The teen werewolf must have realized what was coming because his eyes flashed yellow-gold and there was a hint of fangs visible as they extended in response to the fear rushing through his body.

  Beside Diego, the kid’s mom tensed, like she was going to jump on the man holding her son, regardless of the gun he was holding.

  “It’s getting hot in here, guys,” Diego murmured, giving the signal to his teammates outside as he launched himself at Ken.

  His muscles twisted and spasmed in a partial shift, his body becoming a blur as he moved. It went without saying that he was a lot faster than the boy’s mom, even if she did look fit as hell.

  Diego slammed into the kid and the gunman at the same time, taking them both to the floor just as his pack mates crashed through the front windows behind him. Diego ignored the hostages freaking out all around him and focused on separating Ken from the boy—and from his weapon.

  The kid hit the linoleum floor and slid into the side of a nearby booth, while Ken bounced toward the kitchen, losing his grip on the Glock. Diego didn’t need the weapon—he had plenty at the ends of his fingertips—but slashing up a man in the middle of a diner with people all around wouldn’t be the best idea in the world. So, he went with discretion over valor and dove for the gun the other man had dropped.

  A small growl slipped out from Diego’s throat as he covered the distance to the weapon in one savage leap, then scooped up the auto and spun around to get a bead on Ken as the man recovered from his own tumble and came to a knee holding one of the SIG Sauers he’d taken from the patrol officers.

  “Freeze!” Diego shouted, even as the man kept moving in a weird slow-and-mechanical fashion, like he was a frigging robot. “Dammit, Ken, don’t lift that weapon any higher. I don’t want to shoot you. It’s over. Just drop it!”