Chapter Six
Talking to grieving family members was the worst part of her job. Death was a bitch, no one liked it, and no, staring into the heart-broken eyes of Alan Thatcher’s sixty-two-year-old mother hadn’t been an easy task. It had been gut-wrenching.
Jane paced in Alan’s dorm room. The guy had been a senior at Tulane, majoring in chemical engineering. Just a semester away from graduation. His whole life ahead of him. And now…
A grave is waiting for Alan.
There was nothing in his room that she could use. The guy had been normal. A human with human friends. He’d had a pretty ex-girlfriend, one who’d posted lots of pictures on social media sites of the two of them. He’d had a caring family. He’d had everything.
Now it was all gone.
“Why did he pick you?” Jane whispered. The guy had a New Orleans Saints shirt on his bed. Game tickets were in the garbage can.
She raked a hand through her hair. A knock sounded at the dorm room door and she stiffened—
“Hey, Thatch! You in there?” A loud male voice called.
Before Jane could answer, the door swung open. A tall, dark-haired guy stood there, looked to be around twenty-one, maybe twenty-two. He blinked in surprise when he saw her.
“Oh, didn’t realize Thatch had…company.” He flashed her a broad smile, one that showed a dimple in his left cheek. “I’ll come back. I can talk to him later.”
“No¸ you can’t.” Dammit, she hated this part. Jane pulled out her ID. “I’m Detective Jane Hart.”
The guy hesitated in the doorway. “Is Thatch in some kind of trouble?” His pale green eyes were worried. “He’s a good dude, I swear. Smart, you know. Wicked smart. He helps me with my math when I need it and, sure he likes to party a little hard, but who doesn’t—”
“I’m sorry,” Jane cut in. “But Thatch is…he’s dead.”
The fellow’s expression didn’t alter.
Shock? Another reaction that she’d seen all too often.
Jane stepped toward him.
He stepped back, shaking his head. “What? What is that? No. Not Thatch. No!” He covered his face. “Thatch!”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. The grief was kicking in for him, and it was a terrible thing to do, but she wanted to question him before he gave in to the pain he felt. “Alan Thatcher was killed last night.”
The guy’s hands slid away from his face. “He was…he was heading out to party last night.” His voice was so rough now. Gravelly.
“Where did he go to party?” That would be a lead she could use. She’d retrace Alan Thatcher’s footsteps and figure out just how his night had gone so terribly wrong.
The fellow’s smile was bitter. “Where does everyone go these days?”
She had no clue. Jane wasn’t exactly big on trending party scenes.
“The hottest club in town. Hell.”
She sucked in a quick breath.
“Hell’s Gate,” the guy continued as he blinked quickly. His eyes had filled with tears. “I was supposed to go, too, but I got slammed working on my research paper. Never made it there. Shit. Shit.”
“What’s your name?” Jane asked him carefully. She wished she was better at handling the victims. They just made her feel bad because she hurt for them. It was too easy for her to understand their pain and their rage. Easy, but she had no words to comfort them. I give them comfort when I lock up the bastards who hurt their loved ones.
“Quint. Quint Laurel.” He shook his head. “Does his family know? Thatch was always so close to his family. Especially his mom.”
“They know. She knows.”
His eyes closed. Then, hoarsely, Quint said, “What…what was done to him?”
“I don’t think you really want to know that.” Her gaze slid over to the cork board on the wall. A picture of Alan Thatcher was up there, with his arm around his pretty ex-girlfriend. A big smile was on his face. “Better for you to just remember him this way.”
“Jesus…that means it was bad, right? So bad you don’t want to tell me.”
She didn’t respond.
“Jesus.” He said again. “Thatch.”
She had to ask her next question. “Did Thatch have trouble with anyone on campus? Any enemies?”
“Nah…nah. I mean, he and Gena had broken up, because she’d been caught hooking up with that jerk Beau, but it wasn’t a thing.” His brow furrowed. “I don’t…I don’t think it was a thing. Thatch was pissed at Beau, and I think Beau felt the same way, especially when Gena started calling Thatch again but…” He rolled back his shoulders. “That’s just stupid drama. Not the kind of thing a guy would get killed for.”
You’d be surprised why people get killed. But a college romance gone wrong? That hardly connected with the slashed remains she’d found. Still… “Does Beau have a last name?”
“Yeah. Beau Phillips. Doesn’t live on campus. Think he has some place in the Quarter.”
She’d find him. Jane offered Quint her card. “If you think of anything else about Alan Thatcher that you feel I should know, call me.”
He stared down at her card, his expression fierce. “You a good detective?”
Her brows climbed. “I like to think so.”
He grunted. “You’ll…catch the guy?”
“That’s the plan.”
His stare rose, lingering on her face. “You look young.”
“Not as young as you.” And appearances can be deceiving. “I know how to do my job. Don’t worry.”
“Sorry, I just…he was a good guy, you know?” Quint shoved the card into his pocket as he turned away. “Good guys should have good lives.” He shuffled out of the room, his shoulders hunching forward, his feet dragging.
***
Hell’s Gate was different during the day. No big throngs of people waiting to get inside. No mass of bodies jumping on the dance floor.
It was quiet. Peaceful. Almost tomb-like.
Aidan smiled a bit as he lounged at the bar. The door to Hell’s Gate had just been thrown open with a bit too much force—Jane’s usual entrance style at his place. Did Jane realize she always strolled in as if she owned the place?
I can make that happen. He’d be happy to share everything he owned with her. Always.
His fingers tapped on the bar as he watched her. Beautiful Jane. Her long, dark hair slid over her shoulders and her eyes—dark like her hair but framed with gold flecks—locked on him with obvious purpose.
“You left before I woke up,” he said. Though that wasn’t really true. He’d been awake, but he’d also been aware that she was trying to slip away without talking to him. Had the vampire’s words gotten to her?
He’d already talked to Paris and learned all about Jane’s little side trip to see Annette.
Another problem he’d need to face, soon enough.
“I need to see your security footage from last night.”
“Well, hello, to you, too, sweetheart,” Aidan murmured. “You look lovely, and yes, my day has been just grand.” He reached for his whiskey glass and took a quick swallow. “Thanks for asking.”
“Aidan…it’s not even noon.”
He waited.
“And you’re drinking now?”
I’ve got plenty of reason to drink. Trust me. Her impending death? Fuck, yes, that was putting him on edge. Because despite what Annette had said, he would find a way to change Jane’s fate. He didn’t want to lose her. He couldn’t.
“Is everything…okay?” She asked as she crept closer. Concern softened her face. “Did something happen?”
I found out that you’re supposed to die soon. That you’ll become a vampire. Then I’ll have to make a choice.
Would he make the same mistake his father had made?
“What could possibly be wrong?” He forced a mocking smile. “Don’t mind the booze, sweetheart. You know it doesn’t influence me the way it does mortals.”
“What’s happened?”
“Oh, you know…the usual. Got a city to run and a paranormal killer to stop.” He shrugged. He’d drained the whiskey. “And I got a fun little phone call a bit ago.”
Her shoulders stiffened. A very small move, but Aidan watched her carefully and he waited. Would she tell him about her meeting with Annette? So they could face the shit that was coming together?
“Who called?” She slid a step closer. Her face had gone blank, deliberately so, he knew.
A crack appeared in the glass he was holding. She’s not telling me. Jane is still holding back. “Dr. Bob,” he tossed out the name because that was true enough. One of his phone calls had come from the ME. “He’s on my payroll, after all. So he wanted to make sure I got all the results of his autopsy on last night’s victim.” Aidan gave a low laugh. “I’m pretty sure the guy wants to put a new roof on his beach house in Gulf Shores, so I figure he’s looking for some bonus pay.”
“And he’s still working with the idea that a werewolf committed the crime?”
“It would certainly appear that way. All of the evidence supports a supernatural killer, only not of the vamp variety.” Werewolf. He pushed away from the bar because she’d stopped moving toward him. The scent of apples and lavender filled the air. So did the sweet scent of woman.
Jane.
“But we both know,” Aidan murmured as his hand rose and the back of his knuckles trailed over her silken cheek. “That appearances can be deceiving.”
It was so easy to get lost in Jane’s eyes.
Will it be as easy when she becomes a vampire?
“Aidan…your fangs are showing,” Jane said this simply, no fear in her words or on her face.
He smiled. “The better to bite, my dear.”
He expected her to back away, but she didn’t. Jane moved closer. Her hands locked around his shoulders and she shot onto her toes. “We didn’t talk about last night.”
“Maybe because neither of us knew what to say.”
“Or because we didn’t want to lie to each other.”
His jaw hardened. “Do you lie to me a lot, Mary Jane?”
She swallowed, the movement of her throat delicate. “I try not to, Aidan Locke. I want you to know everything about me. You matter to me more than anyone else has in a very, very long time.” Her voice had softened with emotion.
Aw, Jane. My Jane. In a flash, he’d picked her up and sat her on the bar top. He put his hands on either side of her body, caging her there as he leaned in toward her. Her breath came faster now as she stared into his eyes.
“But I have lied to you,” she said, and she sounded miserable. “And I’m afraid I’ll do it again.”
“Jane…” I’ve been lying, too. I know it’s fucked up, but I’m trying to protect you.
“If what we have is built on lies…then what does that mean, for us?”
He kissed her. Not hard or desperately or wildly. Just a soft press of his lips because sometimes, he knew that she needed softness.
Fuck, sometimes, he did, too. The world was brutal and dangerous and he wanted to hold on to every tender moment that he had with her. There hadn’t been much tenderness in his life. Not much love, either. Not until Jane.
Was it any wonder he was ready to fight his own pack, to fight heaven and hell and anything in between, in order to keep her with him? “It means,” he murmured against her lips, “that we have to stop lying. It means we have to share every damn thing that is happening. Total trust is what we need. We’re stronger that way.”
Her hand slid against his jaw. He loved it when she touched him. Inside, his wolf arched. The beast needed her just as much as the man did.
“Then time for confession.” She exhaled on a quick, little ragged breath. “The vampire last night scared me.”
“I won’t let him—”
“I won’t let him hurt me. I’m carrying wooden bullets in my gun now. Wooden bullets in the gun and a silver knife strapped to my ankle.” Her lips curved into a wan little smile. “The better to kill all monsters.”
Werewolves and vampires weren’t the only monsters out there.
“But I have to wonder…” Her lashes lowered. “If I do change, if something happens, if I die—”
“It won’t—”
“People die every day, Aidan. Death is a fact of life.” Now she was staring into his eyes again. “You can’t protect me from every single danger out in the world. You can’t lock me away from every threat, can’t keep me wrapped up in cotton.”
Did she think he hadn’t considered locking her away? He was just enough of a bastard that he had. She was the one person in the world who made him completely happy. She fucking completed him—filled that dark hole inside that was where his soul should have been. Taking her, locking her in his home in the swamp, keeping her away from any and every danger…hell, yes, he’d thought about it. Time and again. But in the end…
Jane wouldn’t want to live that way. She’d hate me. And her hate is something I can’t handle. He needed her to look at him with love in her eyes. Because when she did, Aidan felt like less of a monster.
“I agreed to the guards you have trailing me at night, but…when the vamp came at me last night, they were no good.”
He’d chewed their asses out over that fact.
“You can’t stop every threat.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t try.” She needed to understand that. With Paris’s words ringing in his ears…Annette saw her changing, man. I’m so fucking sorry. Your Jane is running out of time. Aidan intended to do everything possible to save her.
“I’ve lied to you.”
And I to you, sweetheart.
“I told you that my parents were killed by vampires. By the bastard who branded my skin.” Jane shook her head. “But that wasn’t completely true. The man who died that night—Jason Hart—he wasn’t my biological father. My mother…she married him when she was pregnant with me. But he wasn’t my father.” She laughed, but the sound held pain. “I wish he had been.”
“Jane…”
“I heard her talking once, on the phone to someone. About how she wished things had been different. That Drew and I had been his children. She said…she said everything would have been better. That we would have been better.”
“I’m sorry.”
Her lashes fluttered.
“I know her words must have hurt you, but she was wrong. You are better, Mary Jane. There is no one better than you.”
Jane licked her lips. “When you say sweet shit, it makes me want to jump your bones.”
A quick laugh came from him, totally unexpected. That’s my Jane—still surprising me.
“But I’m kind of trying to bare my soul to you right now,” she continued, “so the bone jumping has to wait.” She squared her shoulders. “My real father was a vampire.”
He didn’t speak.
“You’re supposed to have some kind of reaction.”
If your real father is still alive…
“From what I’ve been able to piece together, he…he changed. Drew swore he was a good man, once, but he remembered…Drew remembered him coming home one night and being soaked in blood.” Her voice went small and sad as she said, “I think that was the night I was conceived. Drew heard yelling and fighting. Attacking.” Her cheeks had paled. “I think he must have been newly transformed. I like to…to believe he wanted to stay with his family. That the reason he came home was because a part of him still wanted to be with his wife and son. Only…something went wrong.”
I’ve seen newly turned vamps drain their entire families. Kill without any hesitation.
According to the stories, that was exactly what his own mother had done. But Jane didn’t know about her. Another secret. Another lie.
“My mother became pregnant with me, and we…we never saw him again. None of us. I’ve never met my father. And Drew’s memories—well, they are the memories of a child. My mother didn’t exactly talk about our real father to us. But she did…she did move us around a lot. Maybe all that time, she was really running from him, and I didn’t even realize it.”
“Jane…”
“He hurt her that night.” Jane’s fingers slid to Aidan’s throat. “I know that for certain because I saw the scars she carried on her neck. Long and deep, always there. She’d rub them sometimes while she looked at me, and there was so much pain in her eyes.”
Hell. Jane—
“I don’t like to think about how I may have been conceived.” Her lips were trembling and tears gleamed in her eyes. “Whatever—whatever happened that night, my mother still loved me. She still loved me,” Jane said desperately, almost as if she were trying to convince herself.
Aidan wrapped his arms around her and held tight. “I know she did. How could she not? You’re fucking loveable, sweetheart.”
She gave a choked laugh. “Aidan…”
“I love you.” Saying the words out loud was still new for him. And his heart burned as he said them, but they were true. He did love Jane.
“Then make me a promise.”
“Anything.” That was simple. He eased back, just enough to stare down into her eyes. “I will—”
“If I do change, if the vamp was right, if—” She pressed her lips together. “If I turn into a vamp and I’m hurting others, you have to stop me. Don’t let me become a murderer.”
She’d just asked him to kill her.
Fuck.
The door to his bar opened, the creak overly loud as he stared down at Jane. His nostrils flared, and he instantly recognized Garrison’s scent. The wolf was hesitating in the doorway, probably realizing he’d just interrupted at the wrong time. But Aidan had called and ordered the guy to come by.
Mostly so he could rip him a new one for failing in his guard duty with Jane. He’d already berated the guy once, but once wasn’t nearly good enough.
“You didn’t promise,” Jane said.
He kissed her once more. Harder this time. Rougher because the emotions in him were rough, then he shoved away from the bar. “About time you got here,” Aidan said to Garrison.
The guy winced as he took a few steps inside. “I am so freaking sorry about last night—”
Not sorry enough. But you will be. That was pack business, though, and he’d chew the guy’s ass out again in a moment. First…
Jane jumped down from the bar. She cleared her throat. “I, um, I’m not leaving before I get what I came for.”
If she was looking for his promise—
“Security footage,” Jane said. “From last night. My vic came here, and I need to see exactly who he was partying with before he died. I’ve been running down leads all day and my last one—the victim’s ex-girlfriend and a bozo guy named Beau Phillips—turned out to be a dead end. Both were alibied completely. They were at a church retreat with about ten other couples. Those couples and the priest backed up their story. A priest.” Her smile was mocking. “You don’t get a better alibi than that. So I need that footage, Aidan. I need to keep working this case.”
“Of course.” This was something he could give her. “I’d give you anything you needed, Jane. I hope you know that.”
Her head tilted as she studied him.
Anything that didn’t involve tearing out my own soul.
Paris strode into the bar, pausing behind Garrison. Paris’s gaze swept around them all and he whistled. “Did I just interrupt a party?”
“Paris, will you take Jane up to my office? And give her the password so that she can access last night’s security feed. I’ll be up soon. Just need to…handle a little business with Garrison here.”
If possible, Garrison’s skin paled even more.
“Right. Happy to escort our detective upstairs.” Paris gave a little salute to Aidan. He and Jane headed for the stairs but, halfway up, Jane glanced back, frowning at Aidan.
“You didn’t promise.”
No, he hadn’t. He just stared at her, waiting for her to understand. That’s one promise I can never give.
Her delicate jaw hardened and Jane turned away. She finished climbing the stairs in silence. He waited until she was at the top, until he heard the door click closed behind her and Paris and then…
He braced his legs apart. Crossed his arms over his chest. Glared at Garrison. The young wolf was third generation, came from a damn good family, but he was still learning. Still too reckless in some ways. “The vamp got the drop on you last night.”
“I didn’t scent him! Me and Jagger—neither of us caught his scent. We’re supposed to smell vamps, but we didn’t, at least, not him. Not until he was right on us.” His words came out in rapid-fire succession. “And he was so fucking strong. I felt like I’d been hit by a truck.”
Definitely not your average vamp. “And you didn’t find his trail last night?”
“I…” Garrison glanced at the floor. “No.” His head slumped forward. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Frustrated fury beat within Aidan’s body. He knew Garrison had tried. The guy was young, a bit of an asshole sometimes, but when it came to vamps, Garrison gave his all. Vampires had killed his family. Aidan had been the one to go in and find a young, desperate Garrison alive in the carnage. So maybe—shit, not that he’d ever admit it out loud—maybe he had a small soft spot for the little bastard.
“I…I didn’t find him.” Garrison’s thin shoulders straightened a bit. “But I did find the woman he attacked last night.”
Aidan’s brows climbed.
“She’s alive. And…I’ve got her outside.”
Well, well. Now they were talking. “Bring her to me.”