Maynard ran to his bedroom and whipped his closet open, reaching for the lockbox on the top shelf. He was relieved his gun was still inside but distraught that someone had broken into his home and destroyed his belongings. Even his dresser drawers had been opened, his clothes strewn about. His mattress had been sliced in so many places that it looked as if the stuffing was erupting.

  Maynard made his way back to the front door and let himself out. He didn’t want to touch anything. Sheriff Weston had already ripped him a new one, and Maynard had just started back at work. He didn’t want his boss suspending him again.

  “What’s wrong?” Luke asked when Maynard got back into the car.

  Instead of answering him, Maynard dialed Sheriff Weston’s phone number.

  “Sheriff Weston,” his boss said when he answered.

  “It’s Deputy Dario,” Maynard said. “Someone broke into my house and vandalized it.”

  “Are you fucking serous?” Luke said from beside him. He started to get out, but Maynard grabbed his arm.

  “Is anyone hurt?” Sheriff Weston asked.

  “No. I wasn’t home when it happened,” Maynard replied. “As soon as I saw the destruction, I walked out.”

  “Good,” Sheriff Weston said. “I’m on my way. Did you smell anyone in the house?”

  “No. The spray paint is too strong, but I doubt anyone is inside.”

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Sheriff Weston hung up.

  Luke glared at the house. “Spray paint? Like what was used on your old house?”

  “Yeah.” Maynard felt shaken. No, he felt violated. He’d brought the lock box with him but hadn’t touched anything else. “Homophobic slurs.”

  Luke cursed. “I wish you had cameras.”

  So did Maynard. He wanted to know who it was. Who had followed him to Willow Point, months after what had happened, to continue his torture?

  “As soon as backup arrives, I want you to pack a bag,” Luke said.

  Maynard started to tell Luke that he wasn’t going to take him up on his offer. He was a shifter, for goodness sake, and he wasn’t running from humans. But Sheriff Weston had pulled to the curb, so the conversation would have to wait.

  No sooner had Maynard gotten out and joined his boss in the driveway than two more patrol cars pulled up. Deputy Saint Delaney got out of one, Deputy Mitch Lennox from the other.

  “You boys go in there and dust for prints,” Sheriff Weston said to them.

  “What about me?” Maynard asked. “It’s my house.”

  “Which is exactly why you’re going to stay put,” the sheriff said.

  Maynard was seething. He didn’t want to sit this out. He was a cop, and he was being relegated to the sidelines. “Can I ask why?”

  Sheriff Weston looked as if he didn’t want to explain. Maynard couldn’t understand the sheriff’s attitude. “Because if we get enough evidence to convict, the opposing attorney can argue that things were tainted because of your involvement.”

  That made sense, even if Maynard didn’t like it.

  “I offered to let him stay with me,” Luke said when he joined them.

  “We can discuss that in the car,” Maynard said through clenched teeth. He didn’t want to talk about anything personal in front of his boss. It wasn’t anyone’s business that Luke was his mate and that the guy had rejected him. Sure, Luke had said that he would think about it, but Maynard had still been rejected.

  “What’s the big deal?” Luke asked. “Now your boss will know where you are, and you’ll have added protection.”

  “I think that’s a good idea, Deputy Dario.”

  “I’m overjoyed everyone else is making decisions for me.” Maynard walked back to Luke’s car, leaning against it as he crossed his arms. It was Sheriff Weston who approached him.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Maynard grumbled.

  “See, that’s your problem.” Sheriff Weston jabbed a finger toward him. “You keep everything a secret. You didn’t even come to me when you were shot. How am I supposed to warm up to you when you won’t give an inch?”

  Maynard was tired of biting his tongue. He dropped his arms, glaring at his boss. “And how am I supposed to feel warm and fuzzy about this job if you never address me by my first name? It’s always my title.”

  “If you’d act like you wanted to be here, I might act like we were friends,” Sheriff Weston argued. “I get why you don’t trust us, Maynard. You worked at your last job ten years and found out almost everyone in the station was corrupt. I get that, but that’s not what’s going on here. We’re a team. We depend on each other to watch our backs. Hell, we even call each other to help with personal matters. You’ve been here two months, and Mitch has had three cookouts. Have you been to any of them? Did you bother to show up when he extended you an invitation more than once?”

  Maynard looked toward Luke, who was standing by the closed garage. His mate was looking intently at the front door, but Maynard knew he was listening.

  “I have this fear that, if I let my guard down, the other shoe is going to drop,” Maynard confessed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been acting like a team member, but that shit traumatized me, and it looks as if it’s not over yet.”

  “Son, we have your back.” Sheriff Weston rested his hand on Maynard’s shoulder. “The entire town has your back. Just give us a chance to show you what a great community we are. Give your team members a chance to get to know you, and vice versa. We might have our own set of rules when it comes to dealing with nonhuman threats, but as far as this town is concerned, we do things by the book. I won’t have it any other way.”

  Maynard glanced toward Luke again, but this time when he spoke, his voice was just above a whisper. “Luke is my mate.”

  Sheriff Weston grinned. “Congratulations.”

  “No.” Maynard shook his head. “He rejected me. He doesn’t believe in fate and refuses to believe we’re meant to be together.”

  It hurt confessing that out loud. Maynard felt like such a failure.

  “But he’s here now, ready to fight for you,” the sheriff pointed out. “He hasn’t abandoned you, Maynard. It might take time, but he’ll come around.”

  “He did admit that he felt the pull.”

  Sheriff Weston gave Maynard a warm smile. “It’s a start, son. Stay with Luke. Let him get to know you. Get to know him. Let him protect you.”

  Maynard gave his boss a look that said he was batty. “I’m the shifter.”

  “And he needs to feel needed,” Sheriff Weston said. “Let him help you. When you two get your act together, let me know and I’ll give you your two weeks off.”

  It was common courtesy to give a nonhuman two weeks off of work—if the boss was nonhuman—so the preternatural could get to know his or her mate. It was also a time when they fucked like crazy.

  Maynard wished he was that lucky. “Okay, I’ll stay with him.”

  It hadn’t occurred to Maynard that Luke might want to feel useful. He’d been so busy worrying about Luke’s injuries and the fact that Maynard was trying to always prove he was a good cop despite his looks that he hadn’t even thought of the fact that his mate might feel useless.

  “Good.” Sheriff Weston nodded. “I want you to take the next few days off.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we don’t know if it’s just one guy after you or more,” his boss said. “My only concern right now is your safety.” He winked. “Besides, you have a mate to get to know. And call me Tate.”

  His boss had told Maynard to call him that on his first day, but Maynard had refused because he hadn’t trusted anyone and wasn’t comfortable with being so familiar. “Thanks, Tate.”

  The two deputies walked out, Delaney carrying the fingerprint kit. “All done.”

  “Go inside and gather what you need,” Tate said.

  With a nod, Maynard went over to his mate. “We can go in now.”

  “You sure you want me in there with you?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Maynard asked.

  With a shrug, Luke walked inside.

  * * * *

  Luke’s shoulders heaved as he drew in a breath. He was seething when he saw the wreckage. That alone was bad enough, but to see those horrible words spray-painted on the wall nearly sent him over the edge. He’d dealt with his fair share of homophobic assholes. There had been some in the marines, some in his hometown, and no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the bigotry always pissed him off.

  To have it aimed at Maynard made Luke want to shoot someone.

  “You never answered me,” Maynard said. “Why wouldn’t I want you to come inside?”

  They’d gone into Maynard’s bedroom and gathered the clothes, which were thrown everywhere. At least whoever had done this hadn’t shredded Maynard’s clothes. “I thought maybe you didn’t want me to see the words spray-painted on the wall.”

  Maynard stood there with a pair of jeans hanging from one hand. “They’re just words, Luke.”

  “No, they’re not.” Luke walked over to Maynard and pulled him into a hug because the guy looked as though he desperately needed one. Maynard had been there for Luke when his aunt had called, and Luke could do no less for the little impala. “I’ve had this happen to me before.”

  Maynard pulled back slightly and looked up at Luke. “You did?”

  “My locker at school. My car when I bought my first one. My locker in bootcamp. It seems lockers are an asshole’s favorite thing to target. Thank goodness you don’t have any, or we’d have to camouflage them.”

  “I know it’s not because I’m gay.” Maynard rested his head back against Luke’s chest, and Luke had to admit that he liked the closeness. “It’s because I blew the whistle. Whoever did this just wants to mess with me, get in my head.”

  “Psychological warfare.” Luke tightened his arms around Maynard to show his support.

  “I’m not going to let them win.” Maynard finally pulled away. His words were strong, but Luke could see the anguish in his dark green eyes. “I want to find the person and throw the book at them.”

  Luke wanted to do a lot more than that, but he kept that to himself. If the person came to his house with the intent to harm Maynard again, Luke was unloading a fucking clip into them.

  “We need to hurry.” Luke wanted to put Maynard’s mind on something else. “We have our groceries in the car.”

  Maynard’s brows shot up. “I forgot about that.”

  They moved faster, packing Maynard a bag. They walked out to find the cops still there, talking until they spotted Luke and Maynard coming out.

  “Got everything you need?” Deputy Mitch Lennox asked.

  Luke had overheard the conversation between Maynard and his boss. He agreed with both men. Though Maynard had every right to be wary, he also needed to give these men a chance. He’d also deduced that these guys or, at the very least, Maynard’s boss weren’t human. Not when he’d said that they were their own law when it came to nonhuman threats.

  If Sheriff Weston wasn’t a shifter, he knew about them.

  “Yes, thank you.” Maynard threw the bag into the backseat. “Thank you for coming out here and doing this for me.”

  Deputy Lennox gave a single nod. “Anytime, though I hope bad guys coming after you doesn’t become a habit.”

  Maynard smiled. “Can’t promise that until this is over. Um, how’s Elias?”

  That made the deputy smile. “He’s doing good. Thanks for asking.”

  “Now’s not the time,” Luke whispered. “Groceries in car, remember?”

  “Oh right.” Maynard thanked all three men before he got into the driver’s seat.

  Luke was glad Maynard hadn’t asked why Luke insisted he drive. Luke hadn’t wanted to tell Maynard that he had a fear of killing another passenger.

  Maybe it was high time he gave a little since Maynard had trusted him with his past. He’d wait until after dinner, and if the time felt right, Luke would let Maynard in. The thought of telling Maynard what he’d done made Luke’s insides twist, but he couldn’t keep doing this, pushing everyone away.

  Luke liked Willow Point and wanted to get to know the people. He’d lived there two years and knew only a handful of residents. He also wanted to give Maynard a chance. If the guy was right, and they were mates, maybe it was time Luke let go of the past and forgave himself.

  Chapter Seven

  Luke hadn’t had the nerve to talk about his past last night. Although a few hours of their time had been spent dealing with the situation at Maynard’s, their evening had been a delight. They’d played Scrabble as they’d eaten grilled ham and cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. Then, afterward, they’d gotten cozy on the couch to watch a movie.

  He was quicky becoming used to having Maynard at his house, and Luke didn’t want to think about when the guy had to leave. He didn’t want Maynard to go and once again wondered if committing to Maynard would be such a bad thing.

  After letting Diablo out to take care of his morning business, Luke made a pot of coffee. He stood there in his boxer briefs, waiting for the much-needed brew. Moments later Maynard came into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, his dark hair sticking up in all directions. Luke grinned as he watched the guy stumble toward him.

  “Need caffeine?” Luke poured him a cup and handed it over.

  Maynard just grunted as he walked to the fridge and grabbed the cream. Once he had his coffee the way he liked it, Maynard plopped down into a kitchen chair and took a sip, sighing into the cup.

  Luke’s gaze swept over Maynard, noticing the guy was only wearing his boxers. He’d given Maynard the guest bedroom, but Luke had tossed and turned most of the night knowing the hot guy was just across the hall from him.

  “I’m starting to feel alive,” Maynard grumbled. “A few more sips and I might resemble the living.”

  Diablo scratched at the door, so Luke let him in. He inhaled the fresh morning dew that signaled the start of a brand-new day before closing it. The smells might call to him, but it was too chilly outside to thoroughly enjoy it.

  He left Maynard in the kitchen trying to come back to life and went into the living room and started a fire in the fireplace then curled on the couch. The old house had had a lot of drafts when Luke first purchased it, and he’d worked hard to replace the windows and seal off any draft from the colder months. He’d even had central air installed when the first summer had gotten so hot that he’d felt as if he were drowning in his own sweat.

  The modest renovations, as well as the original purchase of the house, had come from his dad’s life insurance policy. A heart attack had taken his father while Luke had been in the service. His mother had died years before that of an aneurism. Luke would gladly give it all up to have his parents back, but his dad’s insurance was how he’d supported himself while he wallowed in shame over what he’d done. Sooner or later he would have to figure out what to do with his life. He’d always been an excellent mechanic, so maybe the garage in town was hiring. Luke wanted to get back into the real world, to become a part of society again.

  Maynard made Luke want more out of life. He wanted to take the guy to the movies, out to dinner, for strolls in town. Luke couldn’t keep himself isolated forever. He missed social interactions and saw how disappointed Maynard had been when Luke had refused to go to the fall festival, even though Maynard had tried hard to hide it.

  Speaking of… Maynard walked into the living room and joined Luke on the couch. The guy still hadn’t gone to get dressed, which only enticed Luke to steal sideways glances at him.

  “I hate just sitting around,” Maynard groaned. “I should be at work.” He looked at Luke with those gorgeous green eyes. “Sorry. I meant nothing by that.”

  Luke smiled. “What, that I’m not productive and don’t have a job?”

  “I was talking strictly about myself,” Maynard clarified. “I’m just not used to being so idle.”

  “Pent-up energy?” Luke knew exactly what he was doing. The more he thought about what Maynard was offering, the more intrigued Luke was. Since he’d decided to stop beating himself up about his cousin—though Luke wasn’t foolish enough to think that guilt would disappear overnight, if ever—he wanted to start living again.

  The side of Maynard’s mouth curled into a smile. “Why, you gonna give me a chore list?”

  Luke decided to play along. “Not good with your hands?”

  As if Maynard had caught on, he said, “Depends on what I’m doing with my hands.”

  “You’re welcome to the sink filled with dirty dishes.” Total lie since Luke never went to bed before his kitchen was spotless. Maynard had helped him with them last night.

  “Is that what you want me to do with my hands?” Maynard still looked disheveled from sleep, but it was a sexy look for him. It had been too damn long since Luke had had sex, and with Maynard right next to him, willing, looking as if he’d jump Luke’s bones if he told Maynard to do it, his will to keep his distance was crumbling.

  Luke reached across the cushions and plucked the coffee cup from Maynard, setting it on the coffee table. When he turned back around, Maynard’s eyes had widened and his breathing had picked up.

  “Stop looking like you’re caught in the headlights.” Luke dragged his knuckles down Maynard’s cheek.

  “I’m just…surprised is all.” Maynard leaned into Luke’s touch. His eyelids fluttered closed for a brief second before opening again. “I thought you didn’t believe in fate.”

  “I’m jaded.” Luke kept moving until Maynard leaned back, his head pressing into the armrest. “Life kicked me in the nuts, Maynard. It tried to tear me down.”

  “And now?” Maynard slipped his hands up Luke’s chest.

  It was hard to think when all Luke could concentrate on was Maynard’s lips. He wanted to devour them, to taste the coffee Maynard had been drinking, to suck the guy’s tongue into his mouth.

  He skimmed his hand down Maynard’s exposed belly and played with the waistband of his boxers. “And now all I can think about is sinking balls-deep inside of you.”