by Синтия Иден
“I never claimed they didn’t.”
“You might be one of the good guys, but you’ve crossed the line for duty, I know you—” His laughter stopped her cold.
Jana blinked. “Am I missing a joke?” The guy had a real piss-poor sense of humor. Good in bed, lousy humor-noted.
The laughter faded, but his lips maintained that slight twist of amusement. “Ah, Jana…” He shook his head. “I have to know … What in the hell ever made you think I was one of the good guys?”
Chapter 9
A good guy? Oh, the woman had it wrong. Very, very wrong. When he’d listened to her story about her dick of a stepfather, the last thing he’d felt was good. If he’d known Jana back then … I would have gotten rid of the bastard for you.
Now he understood so much more about her, and Zane realized … he and Jana were a lot alike. Maybe too much.
So young when we first killed. So much power.
Jana shook her head and stared up at him a bit blankly, all that wild, dark hair loose around her face. “You are a good guy, Zane. You-you work for Night Watch. You’re a hunter.”
“You mean a licensed killer.” He shrugged and tried to keep his voice careless. Real hard when the woman was making him care more than any other had. “They pay me to hunt, but even if they didn’t, do you really think I’d be doing anything else? Some of us were born to hunt. To kill.” He paused deliberately. “But you know that better than anyone else, don’t you?”
That pink tongue swiped out again and his cock hardened. Down, boy. Not now. He hadn’t meant to give in to the lust before. Wrong place, wrong time. But he’d watched her while she’d been out, he’d-dammit, worried-and when she’d woken, he’d wanted.
He wasn’t used to not taking what he wanted. So he’d taken her.
And had one hell of a fine time. But I still want more. With her, I always want more.
What was he going to do about that problem?
A veil seemed to fall over her face. “How’d you get us away from the Feds?”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t that hard.”
“Bullshit. I-I remember being in front of Dusk.” Her forehead wrinkled. “I remember—”
“Why did you go there?” he interrupted, inching closer to her. He had the feeling the woman might break and run at any moment, and that wasn’t an option. She wasn’t going to leave him.
She blinked.
“Why’d you go back to Dusk?” That point had been bothering him. “Did you have a contact there?”
Her eyes-such a deep blue-widened. “Guess you could say that.” Her shoulders rolled. “The bastards from Perseus came after us too fast. I knew someone at Dusk must’ve tipped them off about us. Demons aren’t exactly trustworthy.”
He ignored the jibe.
“So I figured if I shook some cages—”
“You mean started some fires.”
“-that I’d get somebody to talk.” She frowned at him. “And I did. A demon named Morris. The bastard with the scar who turned tail and ran when the fight got hot.”
Excitement had his heart pounding faster. “He gave you a contact?”
“No, I got him to call his contact. I told ‘em if they wanted me, they could find me at the burning den.”
“Fuck. The fire was your beacon?” Not real subtle, but then, she wasn’t exactly a subtle kind of woman.
She smiled at him. And it was … a real smile. Warm. Her dimple winked, and he swallowed.
“No, Zane,” she said, “the fire was for you.”
“What?” She could always surprise him.
“I didn’t like the way the demons ganged up on you. I wanted to send a message, and I did.”
“I don’t need you fighting my battles.” He could handle any demon, any day of the week. But … she’d gone back to avenge him? That was … sweet, in a Jana way. Maybe some girlfriends would cook a guy dinner.
Jana cooked his enemies.
Wait-girlfriend? What the hell am I thinking?
Her hand lifted and slid over the stubble on his cheek. “You’re welcome.”
What?
Her hand dropped. “I was waiting for those bastards from Perseus to show up, but the FBI got there first.” Her lips tightened. “Actually, you got there first.” She waited a beat then said, “Bait, huh?” She didn’t seem angry. Just curious.
Bait. He didn’t like the sound of that.
“Guess you realized there were bigger fish than me out there, right? What, does Night Watch have a hard-on for Perseus now?”
“You could say that.” And a hell of a lot more. “We lost five agents in that fire. We don’t take kindly to losing our own.”
Her gaze searched his. “What are you going to do? Do you really think you can take Perseus down?”
“Yeah, baby, I do. And you’re gonna help me blow the bastards to hell.”
He ditched the truck. Jude would want to rip him apart when he found out, but Zane had to abandon the shifter’s ride. Someone would have seen it at Dusk, and there was no point in continuing to advertise their presence.
It wasn’t hard to find another vehicle. It wasn’t legal, either. But he’d learned long ago that you sometimes had to go outside the law in order to get a job done.
“The Feds and the cops are going to be looking for us,” Jana said, turning to glance at him. They were in an older model Ford. Nothing flashy, nothing fancy. The kind of car you forgot two minutes after you saw it. He’d switched tags twice, just as a precaution.
“They’re not going to find us.” They had about thirty more minutes to go before they made it to New Orleans, and Zane damn sure wasn’t planning to stop for highway patrol.
“The FBI will have splashed our pictures all over the news. Every cop in the area probably has our descriptions.” Her voice was flat. Just stating the facts.
“Baby, every cop in the area got your description days ago. Hell, those in New Orleans had it years ago, and you’re still not inside of a jail.”
“I’m good at hiding.”
Yeah, he’d figured that.
“And when I was working for Project Perseus, they made sure the cops stayed off my back.”
The car almost swerved off the road. “You worked for them?” What the hell?
“It was either go after their kills or find my ass inside of the jail you just mentioned.”
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Her attention seemed to be on the blur of pine trees.
“I didn’t want to go back to jail,” she said quietly.
Then why did you kill?
Her head turned toward him. “Things aren’t black and white.”
He frowned.
“Maybe they are for you.” A mocking laugh. “Not for me. They’ve never been that way for me. So when Perseus told me that I’d be doing the world a favor, that I’d be taking out monsters who hurt women and children, hell, yeah, I was tempted.”
Her nails scored across the seat, and the grinding noise seemed too loud in the car. “They gave me dossiers. Told me when and where to strike, and they paid me well. I’d never had much, but suddenly, I had a chance for everything. And all I had to do was light a few fires.”
Zane realized he was hitting ninety, and he forced his foot to ease off the gas pedal. “The ones you went after … were they killers?” She’d taken out vamps in Baton Rouge. Vamps were known to be—
“Does it matter?” She paused. “Will you think better of me if I say that everyone I killed while working for Perseus was evil? That they were all murderers who needed to be put down?”
“Were they killers?” he asked again, refusing to let her rile the beast.
“Some were. At first, they all were.” She blew out a breath. “But then Perseus started thinking there wasn’t any such beast as a good supernatural. Hell, to them, the only good supernatural was a dead supernatural. Vamps, shifters-they needed to be put down. All of them.”
“You’re a supernatural.” Was that why they were
trying to put her down, too? His gaze darted to the rearview mirror.
“I’m a human first. A human with a psychic skill… that means I’m a tool for them. Not good enough to ever invite over for dinner, but good enough to use. They like to use enhanced humans-Ignitors, charmers-my handler told me that sometimes monsters had to kill monsters.”
“Your handler?” Now they were getting someplace.
And that black SUV that had been following them for the last ten minutes was getting closer. He could see the other vehicle so well in the rearview mirror.
“My handler was a real sweetheart named Beth Parker. Human to the core, and a woman who got off on death more than anyone I’ve ever seen.” Disgust tinged her words. “She didn’t take so kindly to me wanting to leave the fold.”
“Oh?”
“So I made sure I gave her one hell of a kiss good-bye.”
“What?”
“She was with those asshole scientists who held me at the end in New Orleans. Since I didn’t want to play ball with them anymore, they decided to cage me. Then when they couldn’t change my mind … they decided I was expendable.”
The SUV was getting closer. He started edging back up to ninety.
“They strapped me to a table and got ready to cut into my head. They thought the secret to the fire was in my brain. That something was wired differently. And that bitch Beth just stood there, watching, while I screamed.”
His own fury rose.
“I hadn’t attacked a human since my stepfather. I’d said I never would again. …” Her words trailed off. “But I wasn’t dying on that table for them. Beth made it out of the flames, but she got the kiss of fire on her hand and face. She won’t ever forget me. I made sure of it.”
Well, damn. “You play hard, don’t you, baby?”
“I don’t play.”
The odometer trembled up to ninety-five, but that SUV was still gaining.
“They don’t play, either, Zane, and they sure as hell aren’t going to be opening the door and offering a welcome smile to us when we get there.”
But the men who’d slammed into them with the big rig had wanted her alive. And the cop had wanted her alive, too.
It was fine to kill me, but they want her breathing.
That didn’t really make sense if they were just planning to kill her later on.
“Don’t worry about opening the door,” he said, “I can manage that just fine—”
The SUV rammed into their bumper and the Ford lurched forward. The minivan in the right lane let out a long, desperate honk.
“Zane!”
He held tight to the wheel and floored the Ford. Unfortunately, flooring it meant that it only went about ten miles per hour faster.
The SUV hit them again.
Jana jerked around and stared behind them. Her breath rasped out. “They’re already found us.” He wasn’t sure they’d ever lost them. The minivan plowed into Jana’s side and she screamed. What? The minivan? He hadn’t seen that one coming.
The minivan hit again. Metal groaned as the door caved in. “Jana!”
She didn’t answer. He risked a fast glance at her. Her hair was a dark shield around her head and—
And the front of the minivan burst into flames. The vehicle swerved and plowed into the trees.
That’s my girl.
But before he could speak, the SUV took aim at them once more. Another hard hit from behind made his teeth rattle. “Shit!”
“I can take care of them.”
Yeah, he knew she could. But they were about to head into more traffic and if the fire got out of control … Jana unsnapped her seat belt. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Aiming.”
She crawled into the backseat. Her ass brushed his shoulder. Aw, damn.
He glanced in the mirror.
Smoke rose from the hood of the other vehicle. The driver of that SUV must’ve gotten the message that she was sending because the brakes squealed as the SUV shuddered to a stop.
Zane got them the hell out of there. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” But she didn’t sound fine.
He adjusted the rearview mirror and saw her slump in the backseat. “But if it’s all the same to you,” she said, “I’m staying back here.” Her lips curved in a tired smile. “And that, lover, was our welcome wagon.”
“Your police captain is collaborating with the perpetrators,” Kelly Thomas charged, pointing her finger at Antonio. “Not only did the bastard let them escape his custody once, he did it twice!”
Harold Evans, the chief of police, lowered his bushy brows and stared at Antonio. “That true, son?” His hard Southern accent rolled on the words.
Antonio narrowed his eyes. “I wasn’t the only one at that club. She”-the agent who was seriously pissing him off- “was right there. They got away from both of us, from half the PD, from—”
“I had a shot,” Kelly said, her cheeks flaming. “I could have taken out that hunter!”
“Uh … hunter?” Harold asked, rubbing his grizzled jaw. Gray stubble coated his sagging chin.
“Zane Wynter, the hunter from Night Watch,” Antonio reminded him, though he knew the reminder wasn’t necessary. The slow-Southern-boy act was just that … an act. Men didn’t come any sharper than Harold.
“And he’s teamed up with the arsonist?” Harold shook his head. “Why?”
“There’s no proof he’s teamed up with her—” Antonio began.
“Bullshit.” Ah, the agent was eloquent. Normally, he rather liked that in a woman. In her, not so much. “Wynter had Jana Carter in his arms. All he had to do was surrender her to me, and this nightmare would have been over.”
Instead, Zane had unloaded on them all and taken the woman who the hell knew where. Antonio sure hadn’t seen that move coming. But then, Zane had surprised him a few times before, too.
“You took my weapon,” Kelly snapped. “If you’d just stood the fuck down, I would’ve had Jana Carter in custody.”
The small office seemed too hot. He could feel the heavy weight of Harold’s stare.
“You knew my gun didn’t have bullets in it, Captain. Just enough drugs to put them both down.” Her breath huffed out. “You knew that.”
Time to cut the bullshit. Everyone in that office understood the score. “And you know what drugs do to demons.” He shook his head. “It might not have knocked him out. It could have set him off-it could have made him rabid and the guy could have attacked us all!”
“He did attack us!” she threw out.
“Demon.” Harold grunted, holding up his hands. “The hunter’s a demon.” He raised one brow. “What’s the girl?”
“An Ignitor,” Kelly bit out. “An out-of-control Ignitor who needs to be put down.”
“But you weren’t putting her down,” the words slipped out instantly. Antonio leveled his stare on the agent. “You were just knocking her out.”
“Because I don’t get the pleasure of killing her.”
Okay, that was personal. The job and personal issues didn’t mix. The special agent should’ve recognized that fact long ago.
Papers rustled as Harold opened the files on his desk. “You used drugs on her because your boss, Anthony Miller, gave orders that Ms. Carter was to be brought in alive, and deadly force was to be avoided at all costs.”
“He’s not my boss.”
“Fine. He’s the senior agent.”
“And his ass is in Miami right now. He doesn’t even understand what’s happening here. He doesn’t—”
“I know Miller.” Harold folded his hands on top of the desk. “He understands everything.”
Her hands fisted at her sides. Her right hand seemed a little too close to her holster. “Wynter might have been a good hunter once, but he’s obviously turned, because of her. She has that effect on men. The woman seduces, gets men to trust her, then she betrays them.” Her breath rushed out as she stalked toward Antonio. “Your friend is in over his head. Even
a demon can’t control her fire.”
His brows rose. “Now that would depend on just how strong the demon is.”
Her eyes couldn’t narrow much more. “We requested Wynter because he’d handled Ignitors before. He killed the last rogue, I—we-thought he could handle her, too.”
The picture suddenly became clearer. “You contracted with Night Watch, and you were hoping the demon would kill your Ignitor, weren’t you? You didn’t want him to apprehend her, you wanted him to execute her.” He stalked closer to her. “Your hands would’ve been clean then, right? You would have done your job and gotten your wish. Jana Carter would be dead.”
Her smug smile was his answer.
Hell. “Zane Wynter doesn’t kill for sport.”
She laughed at that. “He’s a demon. Of course, he does.”
He was aware of old Harold stiffening and the temperature in the room dropped a good ten degrees. But the special agent didn’t seem to notice that change. “You think all demons are evil?” he asked her, just to be sure he understood.
“They’re demons, aren’t they?”
“Uh … you know it’s biological, right? It’s not like they’re the devil’s minions, they’re just—”
“Supposed to be descended from the Fallen. Right. Whatever. They’re not human. I’ve stared into their eyes. Their real eyes, and I know they’re evil. Just as evil as she is.”
Antonio could only shake his head. “You don’t have a lot of faith in people, do you?”
She didn’t answer.
Right.
“What did Jana do to piss you off so much?” “You mean, other than go on a burning and killing spree for her entire life?”
“Yeah, other than that.” He felt Harold’s eyes on him.
“She—”
“I’ve heard enough.” Harold’s bearlike growl filled the room as he shoved to his feet. “Special Agent, you need to go check in with your boss.”
“He’s not—”
“Check in with your senior officer.” His right hand held a fountain pen in its white-knuckled grip. “Maybe he’s got word on your would-be prisoners.”