A satisfied grin crossed Jace’s face as Robert fell to his knees, still clutching the bleeding wound. Jace raised his gun and pressed the barrel against Robert’s forehead. “You better say a prayer and hope that Satan doesn’t make you his bitch every day for the rest of eternity.”
“I think you’re in for a surprise.” Robert pulled a hunting knife from his belt and stabbed Jace in the thigh.
Blood spurted from Jace’s leg as he doubled over in pain. The crimson liquid splashed over Robert, turning his twisted features even more demented.
Robert stood, smiled in self-satisfaction and plucked the bullet from his shoulder. The blood trickled to a stop. He held the bullet out in his hand. “You think you can kill me that easily? And you’re a hunter?” He dropped the bullet in front of Jace. It hit the metal with a loud clang.
David cocked his old-time revolver and aimed. The sound of the shot rang in Frankie’s ears, muffling David’s voice when he spoke. “We might not be able to kill you—yet—but we sure as hell can cause you a lot of unnecessary pain.”
Frankie ripped her gaze away from the action. David could handle it. Jace was kneeling, spewing curses she had never even heard before. His blood formed a small pool of crimson around him, the heat from the liquid billowing with steam in the freezing cold. She pressed her hands against the wound and applied as much pressure as she could, but his blood continued to flow with frightening speed.
“Shit.” She stripped off her coat and rolled it into a long strip. Using all her strength, she forced Jace to straighten his leg. She looped the material underneath his thigh and tied it off above the wound. She hoped that bastard hadn’t hit an artery.
She grabbed Jace’s face and forced him to look her in the eye. “Don’t take the tourniquet off.” She turned to leave, to help David in the fight, but Jace grabbed hold of her wrist.
“Don’t you dare get hurt. Give him hell.” He released her.
David was fighting hand-to-hand with the bastard—or hand-to-gun. He had jammed the butt of the revolver into Robert’s jaw. Blood spewed from Robert’s mouth and stained his teeth red.
Frankie ran straight for him and thanked God she had enough focus to transition. She dove for Robert and shifted mid-jump. Her canines collided with his stomach, piercing deep into his flesh. He toppled over from the force of her attack.
Within seconds he had hold of her by the scruff. Lifting her as if she weighed no more than a newborn pup, he threw her away from him. She hit the platform hard and skidded across the smooth metal. Her back legs slid over the edge of the structure. Her stomach dropped and her fur bristled as she clawed at the platform and tried to hold herself in place. She yelped. Just as she was sure she was about to fall to her death, a pair of large hands clutched her paws. Jace hauled her back onto the platform.
“What did I say about not getting hurt?”
She whimpered to say “I’m sorry” and panted to catch her breath.
A loud groan echoed through the night. The sound of David’s strained voice mumbling in Hebrew registered in Frankie’s overly sensitive ears. A low growl escaped her at the sight of Robert lifting David into the air by his throat. David grasped Robert’s hand and clawed at his fingers to no avail. His mumbling grew fainter as his air supply was cut off.
Without thinking, Frankie darted in Robert’s direction, teeth bared and ready to strike. The sharp points of her canines latched onto his throat. David fell from his clutches as the three of them toppled over the railing. Frankie closed her eyes. She heard a loud shrieking yelp and faintly wondered if she’d hit the ground yet. She couldn’t feel her body. Someone shook her shoulder, and a wave of pain shot through her as her consciousness faded into blackness.
* * *
JACE DIDN’T GIVE a shit that his leg was injured or that he was bleeding like a stuck pig. He skyrocketed down the platform steps and sprinted to Francesca’s side. At the force of the impact, she’d shifted into human form, and her naked body lay on top of the frozen grass and half-melted snow.
“Francesca? Hey, Princess? Don’t you pass out on me. Don’t you do it, damn it!” He probed her neck for a pulse and massaged the bones. Pulse steady, and her neck was perfectly intact. But her right arm and shoulder were a whole different story.
Shit. He couldn’t move her and risk injuring her further, and he couldn’t call the cops. An unconscious naked woman and two men covered in blood, with bullet casings scattered everywhere, wouldn’t make for an easy explanation.
He glanced at David, who lay on the ground several feet away. His leg was bent unnaturally, but he had managed not to pass out. Instead he stared up into the night sky with wide, shocked eyes.
“David, are you okay?’ The world spun, and Jace steadied himself with his free hand. In one quick rush, the blood drained from his face and a frosty cold nipped beneath his skin.
David glanced in his direction. “Jace? Jace? Oh, fuck.”
* * *
WHEN JACE FINALLY came to, he was sprawled across an old beat-up sofa, the cushions beneath him crying from his overwhelming weight. He cracked one eye open to find a pair of shiny thin glasses reflecting the light straight into his retina.
“What the hell? Get that light out of my eye.”
The glare dimmed, and Jace peered up at a pair of large hazel eyes and a mop of wavy brown hair. Who the...?
“Shane?”
“Oh, good, you recognized me. Hopefully that means we won’t have to test for any brain damage due to overwhelming blood loss.”
“What?”
“Shane, I think I can take it from here.” A large hand brushed the kid aside, and David slid into focus. “Hey, man. You okay? You looked whiter than a ghost the last time your eyes were open.”
Jace groaned in response. His whole body felt drained and devoid of any energy.
“You lost a ton of blood, J.” David paused. “By the way, you may need to clean out the H3. Just sayin’.”
The image of the sadistic killer’s face flashed in Jace’s mind, and he suddenly recalled why he felt like complete and utter shit.
“Where’s Francesca?” Jace pushed himself up on his elbows.
“I’m right here.” Her gorgeous voice sounded in his ears like a sweet melody. “My arm was broken, and I was a little bruised up, but I’m fine now. I heal fast, you know.”
“That is not fine. I’m going to torture that son of a bitch when I get hold of him.”
David pushed lightly against his shoulder, trying to ease him back down. “It’s cool, J. Take a breather. We’re lucky we got out of there with so little damage—other than my leg, that is.”
Jace’s eyes widened as he remembered. “How bad is it?”
Shane cleared his throat. “He broke it pretty badly. Then he was forced to walk on it to get you and Francesca into the H3 before I got there. Even with extensive physical therapy, he might still have a permanent limp, and he’ll definitely be out of commission for a while.”
Jace met David’s gaze. David’s eyes burned with rage, and Jace knew that if David had the ability, he would kill Robert with his bare hands. If there was one thing David couldn’t handle, it was people screwing with his job, and being physically impaired was practically number one on the list of things that would completely mess up David’s hunting skills.
“David, man, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
David shook his head and cut off Jace. “Don’t even go there, J. I’m a big boy. I can handle myself, and I chose to get involved in this, so just leave it be.”
Jace nodded and grumbled as he shoved himself into an upright position. Francesca was sitting in a brown suede La-Z-Boy with a blanket wrapped tight around her body. A sharp pang hit Jace hard in the chest; he’d never been so envious of a blanket. His body stiffened, and a slow ache throbbed in his groin as he pictured Francesca wrapped up in his arms, his hands stroking her smooth skin. He shifted, and a pain in his thigh snapped him back to reality. He was ass-deep in a hunt for a sa
distic killer, and the last thing he needed was to be hung up on a beautiful woman, much less one who was a werewolf.
He examined his leg and assessed the wound. It was nicely bandaged up, and he felt the pull of stitches underneath—professional-level work. Shane must have been the one to dress the gash, and Jace shook his head and wondered if a medical degree was another item he could add to the long list of the kid’s assets.
“Thanks for fixing me up, Shane.”
“You’re welcome. All I needed to do was—”
Jace cut the kid off before he launched into another long lecture. “David, you shouldn’t have brought him into this.” He nodded toward Shane. “What the hell do you think Damon’s going to do to him when he finds out that we were at his place?” He glanced at Shane. “This is your place, right?”
“Actually, this is my grandmother’s apartment. She’s out playing bingo tonight. We already took all the necessary precautions to keep Damon and any other members of the Execution Underground from finding us,” he said, speaking a mile a minute. “Oh, and I gave you a new phone for contact purposes. No trackers on it, obviously. It’s in the console of your H3.”
Jace gave him a thumbs-up. “Gotcha. Thanks.”
David cleared his throat as he managed to stand with the help of a large wooden crutch. “Jace, we can’t beat around the bush here. There is something seriously scary about that fucker.”
“Were you able to figure out what type of demon he is?”
David shook his head. “That’s just it. When he was strangling me, I recited Psalm 91 three times. Add in a shofar and that’s the big fat Jewish mother of all exorcism rituals. He didn’t even flinch. He’s not a demon, J. And whatever the hell he is, I don’t like it.”
Francesca snuggled deeper into the blanket, as if to shield herself from the gruesome details. “If he’s not a demon, then where did that symbol come from?”
David shrugged. “I honestly have no clue. Maybe he’s got one those hell-crawlers working for him. They’d do anything for a little bloodshed.”
“I don’t think it’s a demon. I’ve seen that symbol before, and I’ve never crossed paths with a demon in my life. As far as I know anyway,” Francesca said.
David’s eyes widened. “You know that symbol? He’s a werewolf?”
Jace snorted. “I thought so, but now... A werewolf hopped up on steroids, maybe.”
“No, he’s not a werewolf. And no, it’s not one of our symbols.” She eyed Jace, forcibly including him with her people. “I can’t remember where I’ve seen it. I just know I have.”
“Well, that doesn’t give us much to work with.”
“Look, I’m sorry I can’t remember, but I’ll keep thinking on it. But don’t act like that’s our only hope. We’ve got information to work with. First off, we know that he is able to shift, most likely into wolf form, since that’s what his scent smells like, but we can’t rule out any other possibilities.
“Secondly, we know he has abilities that a regular werewolf doesn’t. Did you see how easily he lifted David and me together? He’s got extra strength. Not to mention the healing thing. That guy pulled a bullet out of his own chest, for God’s sake. I’m guessing a demon could have similar strength, but since he’s immune to David’s exorcism, that rules out the possibility that he’s a demon. Third, there’s the symbol. We just have to figure out what it means.”
All three men stared at her in silence.
She sighed. “So, we need to take a different approach. There is no way we can fight this guy with just two men and one female wolf. We’re going to need an advantage, something he isn’t expecting.”
Jace leaned back into the couch again. “And what exactly would that be?”
“You’ll need to shift, Jace.”
He blinked several times, unsure if he’d fully processed what she said.
“But Jace can’t shift, can he? He’s only half werewolf,” David said.
Jace cringed. Hearing the words said out loud, in a room with two other hunters, stung like a bitch. Anything was better than being one of the monsters. Hell, the black plague would have been preferable.
Frankie sat forward. “It’s not that he can’t shift, he just hasn’t shifted.”
Jace gritted his teeth and swallowed his rage at the whole discussion. “What are you talking about?”
“With some training, you could learn how to shift.”
Jace shoved himself off the couch and hobbled from the room, courtesy of his damaged leg. “No, I won’t do it,” he called back over his shoulder. Anger ripped at his insides.
David caught him by the arm. “J, at least listen to what she has to say.”
“David, don’t you start this with me. You know—”
“J, we’re talking about people’s lives here! Would you stop thinking about yourself for one damn minute and listen to the woman?” David yelled.
Jace pulled his arm away but stepped back into the living room. In all the years he’d known David, the man had never so much as raised his voice to anything other than some sick demon wearing a human’s body like a swanky new suit coat.
“Thank you.” David turned to Francesca. “Continue.”
Francesca nodded. “As I was saying, all you would need is some training.”
“And you could train him?” David asked.
She let out a long sigh. “No, I couldn’t. He’d need to become a part of a pack in order to shift, at least temporarily. Shifting for the first time isn’t easy, and the presence of other wolves lessens the difficulty. Supernatural strength in numbers. There are a lot of things he’d need to learn after being approved by the packmaster and the pack.”
Jace scoffed. “There is no way in hell your asshole packmaster would allow a hunter into his pack.”
She shoved the blanket away. “It’s not the packmaster’s approval you’d need to worry about—it’s the pack’s. If you’re willing, I can guarantee that I can get you in far enough to let the pack vote on it.”
“How do you know you could get me past the packmaster? All he sent to look for that son of a bitch was you. No offense, Princess, but you’re only one person. If he cared so much about catching this killer, why didn’t he send more people?”
Her jaw set into a hard line. “Look, even though more people weren’t sent, it doesn’t mean anything. Just trust me.”
“How do you know so much about what he thinks?”
Her hands clenched into fists, and she stood. “Because I am the packmaster.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
FRANKIE’S HEART WAS pounding so hard she could feel the pulse in her neck. Silence hung in the air as the room filled with palpable tension.
“My name isn’t Francesca. Francesca is my mother’s name.” She cleared her throat and fought down the bile rising in her stomach. “My real name is Frankie. Frankie Amato. I’m the Rochester packmaster.”
After several long moments the men’s utter shock and confusion passed. Frankie watched in horror as Jace’s face tightened with rage. Rage she knew was directed straight at her.
Jace snarled. “Get out.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“Not you.” He turned to David and Shane. “You two, get out.”
David stepped toward him. “Jace, keep your cool, man. We—”
Jace growled. “Out.”
David and Shane left the apartment. As the door closed behind them, Jace turned toward Frankie. The already constricted feeling in her chest tightened in a sharp pain. She’d expected nothing less than pure, unadulterated anger from him. But the expression painted across his face contained more pain than anger. His emerald eyes revealed his true feeling: betrayal.
“Did it amuse you that I didn’t know your real name? Your real job? When did you plan on telling me the truth, huh? Not before we screwed, obviously? Before or after I trus—” He paused, then cursed. “Damn. What am I talking about? I sound like a woman. You don’t owe me anything. Forget about it.”
“Jace, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but you’re a hunter. Even though you said you wanted to partner with the pack now, I thought you might kill me if you knew I was the Alpha, the packmaster. It seemed like too sweet a chance for a hunter to pass up. Once you let me go and we started working together, I didn’t know how to come out and say it. But why does my role as packmaster have to change anything? Why does it matter?”
He laughed, showcasing his disbelief. “Why does it matter? It matters because I’ve had a hard enough time trusting you throughout this whole ordeal because you’re a werewolf. Now I find out you’re the pack Alpha and you don’t think that changes anything?”
“If you were okay with who you thought I was, why aren’t you okay with me being packmaster?”
He spun around so he wasn’t looking at her and ran his fingers through his gorgeous auburn hair. What she would give to run her own fingers through it...
“I wasn’t okay with it.”
“You sure seemed okay with it when you were screwing me.” Frankie gritted her teeth. She knew it was a low blow, but she didn’t care.
Jace froze. His whole body stiffened before he straightened and squared his shoulders. Before she knew what was happening, he slammed her against the living room wall, grinding his massive cock against her as he wrapped her legs around his hips.
“You’re right,” he growled into her ear. The heat of his breath sent shivers down her spine. “I am perfectly okay with screwing you.”
His soft lips trailed down to her collarbone, and she sucked in a harsh breath. She was already wet for him.
“Jace...” His name came out in a breathy voice she hadn’t intended.
His chest pressed into hers, holding her against the wall as his hands trailed down the curves of her body. He rubbed one rough-tipped finger under the edge of her shirt, and she melted. Soft lips and rough, masculine hands.
“Is this what you want?” He slid his hands under her shirt and snaked his palm underneath her bra. He rubbed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Twilight Hunter (The Execution Underground) Page 13