by Cynthia Eden
He spoke with so little emotion, but she saw the grief in his eyes.
“The cops came before anyone else could be hurt. They came in there and they saved me. They killed that shooter—and you know what, Detective Hart?”
She shook her head.
“He was a teen, just like me. Beneath that ski mask, he was a kid.” His lips pulled down. “He was crying when he died. And I was crying when I buried my parents.”
Okay, Mason was making her heart hurt.
“Monsters come in all shapes and sizes,” he murmured. “You should remember that.”
Jane’s brows rose.
“Humans…” He inhaled deeply. “I think we’re the worst of the lot.”
Did he know? Or was he just—shit, was he just speaking in general?
“So, that’s why I’m a cop. Because I know how dangerous the world can be and I want to protect people. I want to help.” His head cocked as he studied her. “What about you?”
I’m a cop because I saw the monsters in this world when I was just eleven. And, believe me, Mason, humans are not the worst ones out there. The worst ones out there were the vamps who ripped out the throats of their prey or the werewolves who lost their sanity and slashed their prey into pieces. While working in New Orleans, she’d faced both of those monsters.
“Same reason,” Jane mumbled. “I want to help.” But she was helping no one by just standing there. Her brother had been far smarter than she realized—the guy had snuck away clean and vanished into the city. Had he fled New Orleans? Was he long gone? Or was he lurking around, planning an attack?
Jane’s lips thinned as she marched out of Hathway. She paused just long enough to pick up her gun from the guard at the check-in desk. Where the hell had the guard been last night? Why hadn’t someone seen her brother slipping away?
She secured her weapon and muttered her thanks as she exited. Her money was on Drew staying in the city, planning an attack. On her. On Aidan. Shit, as if she needed this extra pressure right then. Jane paused on the street outside. The light was too bright. Gleaming sunlight. Not that it hurt her. She wasn’t yelling and burning to ash or anything weird like that. She just felt…weaker.
Jane lifted her hand, shielding her eyes, and when she did, her head tilted back. She found herself staring up at a small video camera. One that was perched on what looked like the second floor of the building across the street.
A building that should have been empty. There was a big FOR SALE sign in front of that building. But…
Mason gave a low whistle. “Security camera!”
So it would seem.
“Owners must have set it up to protect their investment,” he said, voice excited. “Maybe they got footage of your brother leaving on there. We can at least see which direction he took!”
Protecting an investment, yes, that was one idea. But Jane hadn’t exactly been having the best of luck with security cameras lately, and this…it just seemed like too much of a coincidence.
Her hand went to her weapon as she hurried across the street.
“Uh, Detective Hart?” Mason called. “Are we—are we going to contact the owners?”
She headed straight to the front door. A chain was in place there, and sure, she wasn’t at her full vamp strength but…
Jane jerked the chain, a quick, hard tug that she hid with her body. “No need, it’s open.”
“B-but a search warrant—”
“You’re right.” Jane looked over at him and nodded once, decisively. “You don’t have a search warrant. Stay outside.”
He blinked. “Wait—what?”
“Stay outside.” Her hand went to her holster. “I’ll be right back.” Her instincts were screaming at her. That video camera, perched so perfectly in order to catch the comings and goings at Hathway…
Someone has been watching me. Testing me. Is that same someone keeping an eye on my brother?
Jane had her gun drawn as she hurried up the steps. The building was deserted, as quiet as a tomb inside. Her heartbeat raced in her chest, and she kept thinking about Aidan and Garrison and Paris. They’d been searching an apartment, looking for her mysterious watcher.
And the place had been booby trapped for them. That’s why I told Mason to stay outside. I don’t want him getting pulled into this mess. I don’t want him getting blown to hell and back because he’s following my lead.
When she reached the top of the stairs, three doors waited…but all of them were wide open. Jane peered inside the first door and saw nothing. An empty office space. The second door also led to a vacant room, one covered with a layer of dust. But the third room…
Jane walked inside. And her breath froze in her lungs.
The floor of the third room was covered in spray paint—a big, looping design. A red paint image of the Greek letter Omega.
The same symbol that had been burned into her right side so many years before.
Jane crept into that room, her gaze darting from the spray paint design to the surveillance camera that was attached to the window.
The watcher did this. He was keeping an eye on me and on my brother.
But why? Why the hell was she so important to him? And who the hell was he? Jane paced closer to the window. No green light glowed from that camera. It was off now…because there was nothing left to watch? She needed that camera bagged and tagged. Maybe the crime scene techs could find some evidence on it, something that she could use. Something that…
A phone was ringing.
Jane stilled. Her gaze darted to the right, to the far corner of the room, and she saw a small phone on the floor. It vibrated, shaking against the wooden floor as it rang again.
Her breath blew slowly from her lungs. Was this another trap? She inched toward the phone. If she picked it up, was the place going to blow up? Would she blow up? For all she knew, the whole building could be wired to explode and the cell phone was some sort of detonation trigger. Just in case…
Jane raced toward the phone, moving with her vamp speed—or as much of it as she could muster right then. She snatched it up and rushed out of that building in mere seconds. When she left—she slammed into Mason because he’d been lurking far too close to the building’s entrance. She drove the breath from him with that impact. Jane heard the loud oof he gave as he slammed to the ground.
She jerked him up and hauled him away from the building, her hand still tight around the phone. Jane glanced back. The place hadn’t blown…yet.
“You were, um, sure moving fast,” Mason blurted.
The phone had stopped ringing.
“Get some techs out here,” Jane ordered him. “And some bomb sniffing dogs, too.”
His eyes widened. He nodded once, then whirled away as he ran back to the patrol car.
The phone in her hand began to ring again. Since she was clear of the building, Jane answered. “Who the hell is this?”
Laughter. Deep. Rumbling. “Are you missing something, Detective Hart? Or maybe…someone?”
She nearly shattered that phone in her tight grip. “Yeah, I’m missing you. Some jerk who thinks it is funny to play with people’s lives.”
“You’re not a person. We both know that.”
Her shoulders hunched as she paced away from Mason. “I get it. You think I’m some unholy beast that needs to be put down, right? Some big, bad monster that has to be stopped, huh? Then come out—stop me. Stop me.”
“I know where your brother is.”
Jane stilled.
“And I’m going to tell you…because I do like to watch you work.”
You are a sick bastard and I will end you.
“It’s not you he hates so much, is it? It’s your lover.” A sigh slipped over the line. “Poor Jane. You thought you’d found a happy ending. You don’t even realize what you’ve done.”
Jane spun around, her gaze searching the street. “Are you watching me right now?” Because she thought he was. After all, that phone had rang right on cue, just as s
he’d entered that room upstairs and then again—right when she’d cleared the building. He’d left her a burner phone—one that she was sure was going to prove untraceable—and the SOB was hiding in the shadows. Watching her.
“I’ve discovered that I rather like watching you, Jane. More than a job, it’s a downright passion now.”
His voice…it was distorted. Why? Why distort the voice unless…unless he thought she would recognize him.
“You should hurry, Jane. Your brother is going to strike soon. This time, I’m not the one you have to worry about.”
Then he hung up. Sonofabitch.
***
Garrison handed the bagged blood to Annette, his gaze darting nervously around the old club. “Is he…is Paris really a vamp?”
Annette took the blood—the bags were cold because Garrison had just pulled them out of an ice chest. Nausea rolled in her stomach, but she fought it down. Now wasn’t the time for fear or squeamishness.
She didn’t answer Garrison as she turned away and stalked to the back room. The place seemed to whisper to her, dark and twisted secrets spilling from its walls. There had been pain in this place, and not just the kind that was invited at a BDSM club. The building had an old history, as did most of the places in New Orleans. Ghosts lingered. Pain and heartbreak pierced the air.
Those ghosts wanted to talk to her. She could feel them pulling at her, and, normally, she’d listen to them. Maybe she’d even try to help them.
Not today. Today wasn’t for the dead.
Today was for Paris.
She shoved open the door to the back room. Aidan was there, staring down at his friend. Paris was rousing, blinking his eyes. His fangs were already out.
“Give me the blood,” Aidan ordered darkly. “Then you’ll need to get back.”
It wasn’t as if she wanted to get bitten, so that plan sounded pretty good to her. Annette crept closer, then she put one bag of blood in his outstretched hand. She set the others nearby, then backed up.
“Paris.” Aidan said his name, his voice rumbling with the cold power of an alpha wolf.
Paris looked up at him…and then he was snapping his fangs. One instant, Paris had been slumped on the floor, and in the next second, he’d lunged up, going right for Aidan’s throat.
But Aidan was fast—deadly, wickedly fast. Paris missed the alpha’s throat and instead, a bag of blood was shoved into his mouth. His fangs punctured the bag and blood began to trickle out of his mouth.
But he’s drinking it. I can see him swallowing.
Annette wrapped her arms around her middle as she stood there. Paris sucked that bag dry and he didn’t vomit the blood back up.
That was good…wasn’t it? Or was it very, very bad?
Aidan shoved another bag at Paris’s mouth. Then another…another…Paris drained four bags of blood before his body sagged back against the wall, his hands hanging limply in the chains that bound him.
The ragged sound of Paris’s breathing seemed to fill the room.
Aidan stared at him, and the alpha’s face was impassive.
Paris had closed his eyes.
Annette inched forward. Come back to us, Paris. Just come—
His eyes opened—and his golden stare locked straight on her. Hunger flared in his gaze. Lust. And…shame.
Annette’s lips parted in shock. “Paris?” Was he really coming back to them?
“Get…her…out.” His words were a growl.
Pain iced her heart.
“No,” Aidan fired right back. “Annette isn’t going anywhere. You need her. I need her.”
Paris squeezed his eyes shut. “You…were…s-supposed…to—”
“Don’t even start that kill me shit right now,” Aidan blasted. “You have no idea what I’m dealing with, got it? And I will not lose you like this. You’re talking to me. You’re sane again, you’re—”
“Feel it…clawing at me…” Paris gasped. His eyes flew open. She could see the battle in his bright gaze. “Can’t…hold…back…”
“Then we’ll get you more blood,” Aidan said. “We’ll get you whatever you need, but you keep fighting, understand?”
“Werewolves…k-kill…vamps…”
“Don’t tell me the rules,” Aidan snapped at him. “I’m the alpha. I fucking make the rules.”
Yes, he did.
Annette tip-toed closer.
“How the hell did this happen?” Aidan demanded. “How did you change? You didn’t have Jane’s blood. You didn’t even have my blood in the days leading up to this shit. You—”
“Ambulance,” he rasped the word. His gaze slid to Annette, and Paris licked his lips. The terrible burns on his body were finally starting to fade. “G-gave…blood…m-made…drink…”
“What?”
Annette shivered at Aidan’s voice. So quiet. So cold. So deadly.
“Man…r-remember…” Each word seemed a struggle for Paris. His teeth snapped together again.
My, what sharp fangs you have.
The better to drink his prey dry.
And he looks at me as if I’m the prey he wants.
“H-he was there…poured blood…down…throat…” Paris yanked at the chains that held him, giving a guttural cry.
Annette jumped.
“It hurts!” Paris screamed. “R-ripping me apart! I feel it! Inside—ripping me apart!”
“I know,” Aidan said, his voice dipping so low now that Annette had to strain in order to hear him. “I feel the same fucking way.” His hand clamped on Paris’s shoulder. “You fight, you understand? You keep fighting. You—”
Paris went for his throat again, the moment of sanity seeming to fade.
But once more, Aidan dodged those biting teeth. He shoved another bag of blood at Paris. “Tell Garrison we’re going to need more,” he ordered. “A whole lot damn more.”
Annette stared at the two men, her heart aching. Breaking. Paris had come back, but only for a few moments before the madness claimed him again. She stumbled away, gave the order to a dazed Garrison for more blood, then she stood there, a dull buzzing filling her ears.
Garrison rushed to get more blood. And she…
Annette lifted her hand to her cheek. Why was it wet? She didn’t cry. She never cried. She didn’t let herself feel enough to cry. She always hid her emotions. You had to hide when you cared. Because if others found out what she cared about…
They’d destroy what she loved.
Only…
Another guttural cry seemed to echo through the building.
The man she’d secretly started to love…he was already being destroyed. But…by his own words, someone had done this to him. Paris had said that someone had given him blood. Some bastard out there…some fool she didn’t know…
He’d dared to fuck with the voodoo queen. With someone who was hers.
She was going to find the bastard. And she’d make him pay for that crime with his life.
Chapter Nine
Jane rushed toward the old BDSM club, her heart racing. She was sick to her stomach and she hated the fear that iced her veins. Aidan. Get to Aidan. Get to—
The door to the building opened and she nearly slammed right into Garrison. His eyes widened as he grabbed her arms. “Jane?”
She pushed him to the side and ran inside. She saw Annette, the woman was swiping at her cheeks. Annette—crying? Oh, that is so not good. “Where’s Aidan?” Jane demanded.
Annette jerked to attention. Her hand lifted—oh, crap, her fingers were shaking—as she pointed toward the back, toward the room that housed Paris. Jane ran forward, then stopped at Annette’s side. Her hand reached out and curled over Annette’s shoulder. “What happened?”
Tears gleamed in Annette’s eyes. “What’s the use of all the power…if you can’t save the one who matters most?”
Jane sucked in a sharp breath. “Annette…”
“I looked into my mirror hundreds of times over the years. People came to me—vampires came t
o me. Werewolves. Humans. They were all so desperate. And do you know what most of them wanted?”
Jane shook her head.
“To save a loved one. I…” Her head lowered. “I pitied them. Swore I wouldn’t ever be like them. Because when you are willing to offer up your own life for someone else…that just means the fates will make you pay the ultimate price.”
Jane didn’t know what to say. Annette was hurting and the fault…it’s mine. I’m the one who didn’t save Paris. It’s on me. Because she didn’t know what to say in order to ease Annette’s pain, Jane just pulled the other woman close in a tight hug.
Annette stiffened in her hold. “What are you doing?”
“It’s called a hug, Annette.”
Annette stayed stiff. “You’d better not bite me…” Her words were grumbled but her body slowly relaxed. A moment later, Jane risked a look at Annette’s face, and saw that the tears had left her eyes.
For the moment.
“When did you start to love him?” Jane asked her.
Annette’s chin lifted. “Does the when matter? Do you remember the exact moment you started to love that beast of yours?”
No, she just…had.
Jane slipped back from Annette. Her beast was in danger, and they had to be prepared for Drew. But before she could go to him, Annette caught her wrist in a tight grip.
“We have to find a way to save them both,” Annette whispered.
“Trust me, that’s what I’m trying to do.”
But Annette’s gaze didn’t leave hers. “What will you trade?”
That answer was simple. For Aidan’s life? “Everything.”
Annette’s hand slipped from hers. “I was afraid you’d say that.” Her laughter was bitter. “Just like all the desperate fools who came to see me…wanting to save others…and losing themselves along the way.”
Jane shivered as she hurried toward that back room. Annette followed behind her, so quietly, and when Jane stepped inside that room…