A Quiet Man (shifters and partners #19) Read online

  Riley held nothing back when he cared about someone, and Tomas found he couldn't either — or, more precisely, he didn't want to. He cherished the best friend he'd ever had in the wolf who'd chosen him.

  Riley scooted his chair forward a bit and leaned close, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Tomas, there's someone new at the precinct." He looked around guiltily, which would draw more attention than anything else he could have done. "A shifter. A fox shifter. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to know or not."

  Tomas looked at him alertly and blinked. "Do you want me to ask someone?"

  Riley shrugged, looking uncertain and nervous. "I don't know. I—" He broke off as someone approached, straightening up stiffly and trying unsuccessfully to look casual and unconcerned. He cast Tomas a haunted look filled with meaning and didn't dare look at the newcomer.

  "Hello." The man approached Tomas, holding out a hand. "I'm a new homicide consultant. Thought I'd come over and get introductions out of the way." He nodded casually towards Riley. "Hi, Riley. And you are...?" He raised his eyebrows politely at Tomas.

  A pushy fellow, Tomas thought, but he went ahead and shook hands anyway. The guy had a slim, cool hand and a firm grip he didn't abuse. A quick shake and speedy release — no lingering, the way people sometimes lingered when they were meeting Tomas and stared like that. The guy had an alertness to him, a sleek, slick, well-groomed and very aware look to him, as if he always knew what the score was in any situation. He was wearing a suit and was good-looking, with good posture and clear skin. He was white, with pale brown hair and pale root-beer-colored eyes that were oddly mesmerizing. He looked at Tomas closely, very interested in whatever it was he saw.

  "Well, I'm Tomas Quiróz. I see you've met my partner, Riley Thorne."

  The fox shifter nodded. Riley gave him a nervous finger-waggle of a wave and an anxious little smile. He looked ready to bolt any second.

  "And you are...?" Tomas asked, making his voice silky as well, and just a hint threatening. He didn't like people making his partner uneasy, horning into the sacred space that was theirs alone.

  The fox twisted his mouth into a wry, soft smile, his eyes warmer somehow, and just as root-beer-in-the-sun clear. "Cody Millard. Very pleased to meet you, Tomas." He pronounced it very well, really. "I'm sure I'll see you around a lot." He walked away with the confident strut you'd expect of a predator — or a flirt.

  Inwardly, Tomas sighed. He didn't like impressing people without knowing how he'd done it or why they were interested in him. He had the feeling the fox shifter consultant was going to find some excuse to talk to him soon. The guy had that interested look in his eyes. He thought Tomas was interesting.

  Riley gave him a troubled look. "Homicide," he said softly. "Because I can't do it." He twisted his hands together, looking wretchedly guilty.

  "Hey, now, none of that." Tomas leaned towards him earnestly. "The department was lucky to get you, at any price, and just because you're not working homicide, well, that means someone else gets a job, too. That's good, isn't it?"

  Riley nodded slowly. He had impressive skills, but he couldn't handle sniffing around dead bodies. That was the main area where Tomas had needed to put his foot down to protect his wolf partner. Riley had lost his parents at a young age, and it had left deep scars. There were some things he couldn't do. Riley brightened a little at the idea of the job market increasing rather than him failing, and he gave Tomas a shy, tentative nod, as if he liked that. "Do you think we should call him by his first name or his last name?"

  Seeing as how he'd avoided putting Riley on the spot for a conversation, Tomas expected the fox shifter wouldn't go out of his way to talk to Riley at all, and most likely it would be a moot point. "Whatever seems appropriate at the time. If he calls you by your first name, you should call him by his first name. And vice versa. Probably, you won't have to talk to him much."

  "I won't?" He looked incredibly relieved.

  "Well, we won't be working the same jobs, will we?" They almost never had to talk to Homicide on the job, so why would it be different for Cody Millard?

  "No, that's right." Riley brightened all the way up again to his full-wattage smile, radiating relief. "It's not that I dislike foxes. I never know what to say, or how to act."

  "Well, it's not a secret he's a shifter — obviously — so at least you don't have to worry about that."

  They'd be on patrol later, but Tomas had some paperwork to finish up now, so he got started on it, shoving aside the thought of all the awkward encounters he'd had so far today. Riley stuck near him, helping whenever he could and bringing fresh cups of milky coffee, ice water, and extremely sweet tea whenever he thought Tomas looked thirsty. Tomas drank them all; Riley knew exactly how he liked his beverages.

  #

  "Fancy seeing you here." The fox shifter's grin made it sound more like a "caught you" than an actual surprise.

  Tomas resisted rolling his eyes. He was at the gym, trying to work out, so he could stay fit enough to keep up with his wolf shifter partner. He hadn't come here for conversation, and meeting the fox unexpectedly didn't exactly make his day.

  He answered deadpan. "Yeah, a cop who works out at the main place where cops all work out in this town. Fancy."

  Cody's smile curled mischievously. Those root beer eyes danced. He was foxy, this fox, and he knew it. But he sobered up after studying Tomas for a moment. "A private guy," he said. "That's okay. I'll leave you to it." He gave Tomas an oddly shy salute and sauntered off with a quick wink. Even leaving, he couldn't help flirting, apparently.

  Who knew we'd get a fox at the precinct and he'd fit the stereotype so well? Of course, maybe he was fitting the flirty, fun fox stereotype because he chose to. Tomas didn't feel like pondering the matter.

  He got busy with his workout, avoiding attention and friendliness whenever possible, ducking an offer of help, another one of chatting, and an uncharacteristic offer to hang out sometime from a non-cop who came here often. Tomas was beginning to feel harassed. Of course it was silly to think all the attention was about sexual interest. It probably wasn't. But he still wished he could disappear — or do his workout in peace.

  It wasn't that he even wanted to work out, but he had a wolf as a partner, and he needed to be as fit and healthy as he could to keep up with (and take care of) Riley. Riley, of course, didn't have to even try — but he still often did.

  If he'd been here, no one would have approached. They were a self-contained unit, a bubble, a world of their own when it was the two of them. For all Riley's nervous humility, he looked intimidating, and he kept people away just with that. It was a relief sometimes.

  But today, Riley had parenting to do, and Tomas still had to make time for a workout. And so he worked out. Alone. Feeling harassed. Pondering whether there was a better gym somewhere, where no one would try to talk to him. Sometimes he wanted to move into the quiet room of a library so he could get some peace and quiet. No doubt he would miss human interaction. Eventually.

  After his shower and change, he headed down to the docks. There was no point to it, except sometimes he liked to go down there and watch the seagulls scream and the dirty water lap against the pier. When he was a kid, this had been the best place to come and the closest he was allowed to getting into trouble. Tomas, his brother Diego, and usually at least one of their cousins would spend their precious non-chore hours here in the summertime whenever they could get away, trying to fish in the filthy waters, exploring, studying crabs and seaweed, throwing bread to the gulls and squinting at the cargo ships, trying to figure out what they carried, imagining the fun of being a stowaway and pondering piracy. It was especially cool when they got a chance to watch one unload. Some of that sounded silly now, but they'd made their own fun and reveled in it.

  It had been a pretty safe area at the time. Even so, Diego actually had managed to get into some real trouble here once (trust him), so for a little while they'd all been banned from the docks. Tomas had missed it with a wistful
earnestness, as much as if he'd been forbidden to read. He looked forward to the docks all school year, when he was rarely able to take the trip there (and even if he could, nobody would go with him, so it wasn't as fun or as likely to be allowed), and he'd been saving stale bread, a little treasure trove that would be spent in minutes when the seagulls arrived, screaming and swooping, big tough seagulls with a hunger for junk food, or at least stale bread. They were badass, those seagulls — and so beautiful.

  He watched them now, hands stuffed in his pockets, mesmerized by their beauty and how clean they looked even though he knew they were actually pretty filthy, a positive hotbed of germs. They ignored him pretty quickly when they recognized he didn't have anything for them — just another boring adult without food — but he watched and watched, thinking of other days, wondering why he felt so melancholy for them.

  Perhaps because back then, he hadn't known he'd be alone forever. It made him sad. It wasn't as though he wanted someone in his life — or at least, if he did, he shouldn't be so turned off by literally every sexual approach — but a deep sadness had settled within him. Nobody was going to get past these barriers he had up, the ones he didn't even understand. Nobody would know how, since he didn't himself.

  And did he want someone to? Did he actually want to fall in love and stay that way, spend his life with another person? It was hard to imagine wanting to share that much of himself with anyone, even leaving aside the sex. And yet when he thought of never having that, he felt sad. To be alone sometimes was nice; to have his own space was nice. And yet, to always have it, forever, felt like the sort of curse unkind gods would bestow on someone they especially wanted to punish. "You wanted to be alone? Oh, you'll be alone — forever."

  He shuddered at a sudden chill in the shift of the wind, and a seagull screamed vengefully.

  He turned and walked away from the edge of the pier.

  A slim figure stepped out of the shadows and started towards him with jerky, defiant steps. Tomas stopped, a sense of foreboding trip-hammering his heart. Of course, this place hadn't been particularly dangerous when he was a boy, but those days were past now. The docks could hold all sorts of dangers if you were unlucky. He was an off-duty cop without his strong partner or a weapon on him. Maybe he should have gone somewhere else to brood.

  Then he recognized the fresh, acned face of a skinny, hungry teenager. The tough guy was little more than a boy. He had the hard twist to his mouth of someone who hadn't let himself cry and still needed to, badly, but had been kicked around enough by life that he couldn't anymore.

  "Suck your dick?" he offered, voice cracking. "Ten bucks." He was shivering — possibly not just from the cold.

  Tomas held his gaze sternly. "Probably best if you don't. I'm a cop."

  "Oh, shit." The boy turned and started to run. He was new at this, or he'd have stayed out of reach better.

  Tomas made a grab and caught his sleeve. "I'm not going to arrest you. Let's get you home safe, and we'll say no more about it."

  He was taking a risk here, but it paid off. When he said home, the kid stopped trying to get free, like all the fight and the hope had gone out of him. The boy gave Tomas a defiant look, jerking his arm away as Tomas let him go. "Ha. Shows what you know, pig. I haven't got one anymore."

  "Well, that sucks. You'll need shelter for the night. There's—"

  He paused. He'd been about to offer the youth shelter, but a better idea presented itself. It wasn't following the rules, technically — but then he wasn't on the clock. No way was he arresting or detaining this kid tonight and putting him through the system.

  "I've got a friend who's a wolf," he said abruptly, before he could change his mind. "He and his husband take in a lot of foster kids. What's one more for tonight?" Tomas gestured around to the rapidly darkening skies. "Nasty night to be without a home." He watched the kid; the mention of a husband was deliberate. A homeless kid offering to suck dick for money might feel safer with a married gay man than in the system.

  The boy hunched his shoulders, shivered, and looked at Tomas with tormented eyes. "Will you tell him..." His words trailed off in obvious embarrassment.

  Tomas hesitated. "I don't have to. He's a good guy. He was on the streets himself, so he knows what it's like. I don't think he'd kick anyone out, no matter why they came to him."

  The boy was weighing it up, desperate and trying not to look it. "Can I see your ID? So I know you're a cop?"

  Tomas almost laughed. Sure, now you're taking precautions! He schooled his features and managed to treat the request seriously, removing his wallet and showing his ID. The boy gave him a quick look, quizzical, comparing the face to the picture. "You're not just a cop. You're a...wolf partner. That's your friend?"

  "Yes."

  "So, he's a cop too." The boy shivered harder, wrapped his arms around himself. "I guess I don't have much choice."

  He did, but Tomas hoped he'd make the right one.

  #

  As they drove over to Riley and Justin's place, the boy kept fiddling with the passenger door handle, as if he was practicing in case he had to open it and fling himself out of the moving car. He played nervously with a tongue stud. He shivered less with the heater on high, but he was clearly a bundle of nerves, hunger, and angst, more than the teenage norm.

  Tomas debated whether to try to pry information from the kid. But it seemed like too much trouble — and one thing that would make the kid seriously consider ditching him. For once, he felt positively mature, even ancient. Had he ever been this young? His own unhappiness suddenly seemed a lot less intense. He had a warm place to sleep, a car, friends, and a job he liked. He had enough — including a family that loved him.

  And would, even if he did fall for a guy someday. He knew that, although he hadn't once, because of things his parents had said — little hints they'd dropped, not to mention the way they'd accepted and loved Riley. They weren't generally what you'd call progressive, and he knew very well they'd much prefer it if he got married and had kids like his older brother. But if he didn't, they could accept it. And even years ago, when he was this kid's age, they might have been very disappointed and even angry, but they'd never have kicked him out into the cold.

  "Your wolf lives here? Holy shit, it's a mansion!"

  "It's huge, I know. They wanted lots of kids. Him and his husband." He stopped the car, drummed his fingers. "Do you want to wait in the car while I go and talk to him, or would you rather come with me?"

  "Dude, you'd trust me in your car? What if I stole it?"

  Tomas smiled. "Well, I thought I'd take my keys with me. Besides, do you really want to steal the car from a cop — one who's trying to help you, by the way?"

  The kid's gaze dropped, and he played with his piercing. "No."

  Tomas waited.

  The boy finally said, "I guess you should go first. Make sure he's got room." He sounded so nervous now, as if he'd let himself hope, and that hurt more than anything.

  "I'm sure he will. Like you said, it's practically a mansion. Lotta foster kids, lotta bedrooms."

  Tomas got out as casually as he could and started up the long drive. He tried to hurry without looking like he was hurrying. How long before the kid freaked out? This wasn't a compulsory thing; he could run away, and Tomas couldn't stop him — wouldn't try.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and texted jerkily as he walked: Riley come to door.

  His breath made clouds. The door opened as he got to the porch, and Riley stood outlined by the brightness inside, a huge bulk of a man, a massive wolf shifter with a big, tender heart.

  "Tommy?" he said, sounding tentative and scared.

  "There's a homeless kid in my car. He was hanging around the docks and getting into trouble. Nowhere to sleep tonight. I said you'd take him in tonight. Okay?"

  "Of course." Riley headed out, gave him a quick embrace, and started towards the car. Then he stopped, awkward. "Will I scare him? Because I'm so big?"

  Tomas hesitat
ed. He was winging this, as nervous as Riley that he was doing it wrong. "I don't know. I'll go first, okay?"

  Riley hung back, itching to go and help a kid in need, but most of all concerned not to cause any fright. He was such a good guy, good with kids and sensitive to their needs in ways many adults forgot to be.

  "Hey, kid?" Tomas remembered he hadn't even asked the boy's name. Even that had felt like too much, like the boy might bolt. Tomas hated being pushy. He edged away from crossing people's boundaries. It was a wonder he'd even dared grab the kid's sleeve. But it had worked. Now he leaned down to look in the car, standing at the driver's side, holding the door open. "Riley says cool, you can stay. He's a pretty big guy, okay? So, don't freak out. He looks like a professional wrestler, but he isn't."

  The boy gave a nervous laugh that was close to not being a laugh at all. "Yeah, sure. Why would that bother me?"

  "Okay. Well, then, come in and get warm. They'll have food. They always do."

  The boy moved slowly getting out of the car, as if he was wondering whether he'd made a big mistake. But he followed them up to the house, his steps dragging despite the cold.

  Riley introduced himself shyly and tried to draw the boy out about what he liked to eat. Nothing about the boy seemed to surprise or unnerve Riley, who was usually a good judge of character, so Tomas put that worry out of his mind.

  He'd sometimes wondered about the rough, angry kids Riley and Justin took in, whether they were putting themselves in danger. So far, although they hadn't been the right fit for every foster kid they'd tried to take in, they'd managed to keep most of them and fit them into their ragtag, jigsaw puzzle family. They were learning about the adoption process, although they knew better than to rush into it. Still, they wanted to adopt, not just foster. They didn't care that most of the kids weren't little and cute anymore. Some of them were dangerously close to aging out of the system, and Riley was adamant that they could be adopted as well, if they wanted to be, if everything went through.