Better Off Undead Read online

  His arms crossed over his chest. “That’s Drew, isn’t it?”

  So he was done with his sharing session and it was back to her?

  “He has your eyes.”

  “I’d rather hoped you hadn’t noticed.”

  “His eyes are the reason I’m not a jealous bastard right now. He’s related to you. I can see that.”

  Yes. “My brother.” The words sounded foreign to her own ears. Mostly because they were. She hadn’t spoken about Drew to anyone in so long.

  Too long.

  “Where is he, Jane?”

  She put the frame down on his desk and took a few quick steps back from him. “Why, Aidan? So you can hunt him down and see if he’s like me?”

  She expected him to lie to her. Instead…

  “Yes. If he’s a vampire-in-waiting, I have to know.”

  That was what she’d feared. “Then what will you do? Give him protection? Some werewolf guards to follow him the way they do me?” And she hated that crap. “Or will you ensure that he dies a non-violent death?” Her stomach twisted. “Because that’s the key for the transformation, the violent end. Maybe you’ll find Drew and slip him a little poison. Let him fall asleep and never wake up. Then he wouldn’t be any problem to you at all.”

  Aidan hadn’t moved.

  And the room suddenly seemed very, very small.

  Or perhaps Aidan just looked bigger. That happens when he gets pissed. The guy’s energy seems to fill the space around him.

  “Is that what you think of me?” Aidan finally asked. “That I’d kill your brother?”

  She would be honest with him. They both deserved that. “I think you’re an alpha werewolf and, as you’ve told me yourself, you have an instinct to attack vampires.”

  His hands had fisted. “You just fucked me.”

  Um, yes. She didn’t need a reminder of that. Her body still ached in interesting places.

  “You just fucked me, and now you’re accusing me of plotting to murder your brother?”

  Oh, shit. Definitely pissed. “I didn’t accuse you!” Just to be clear. “I asked, okay? I asked because I’ve been scared as hell that you will go after him. And I’m scared—scared because no one else knows about him. He has a normal life. One that doesn’t include me and my craziness. I want things to stay that way for him.”

  Aidan glared at her.

  She glared back.

  “You don’t trust me.” Hurt flickered on his face, just for an instant.

  “No, I do trust you.” This was the part that hurt her. “I trust you to do what’s best for your pack. That’s what an alpha does, right? The pack comes first, I know that. So if you were to think that my brother was a threat…” She couldn’t finish.

  But then, she didn’t need to do it.

  Aidan understood. “You’re more important than my pack. You should know that.”

  She wanted to believe him. But…Their relationship was so screwed up. So why does it feel right when I’m with him? Why do I keep wanting him so much? Needing him?

  “Drew is hundreds of miles away. He isn’t a threat. Just forget about him.”

  Aidan didn’t speak.

  “I have to go.” She grabbed her jacket. “The ME will be waiting on me. I just—sorry for shooting you,” Jane mumbled and rushed for the door. Her fingers closed around the door knob. She expected Aidan to stop her.

  He didn’t.

  He must be really pissed.

  She opened the door, but looked back at him. He wasn’t even glancing her way. He was staring down at the photo. That old picture of her smiling with her brother. She’d been younger then, maybe twenty-one. Twenty-two? That was the last time she’d seen her brother.

  For damn good reason.

  “Promise me.” The words slipped from her. “Promise me that you won’t kill my brother. No matter what happens.”

  His fingers tightened around the frame. But then, as if catching himself and remembering just how much strength he truly possessed, Aidan very carefully put the frame down on his desk.

  “Promise me,” she continued. “And I will give you anything you want.”

  His eyes narrowed on her. “What don’t I already have?”

  “I don’t know.” More chill bumps were on her arms. “But think of something I can give you. Something you don’t have to take.” She stared at him a moment longer. “Good night, Aidan.” Then Jane slipped away.

  ***

  Aidan glanced back down at the photo on his desk. A smiling, happy Jane stared back up at him.

  Drew.

  I will be finding you.

  He hadn’t promised Jane. Mostly because he hated to make a promise that he wouldn’t be able to keep. If her brother proved to be a threat, to either Jane or to the pack…

  I will deal with him.

  And as far as the thing he wanted…the thing he couldn’t take…

  He couldn’t look away from the bright smile on Jane’s face.

  One day. If he was patient enough, if he fought hard enough, he would have exactly what he wanted.

  ***

  The werewolf alpha was sending his dogs after the woman.

  Vincent Connor eased back into the shadows as his prey marched out of Hell’s Gate. He’d been watching that noisy bar for a while. Humans had gone in, werewolves had acted as if they owned the place—probably because they did—and no one had noticed the vampire lurking outside.

  Because he hadn’t wanted to be noticed.

  Normally, werewolves would smell his kind, but he’d taken a little precaution to ensure no one would scent him before he headed to Hell’s Gate.

  It hadn’t taken a big leap of knowledge to realize that Aidan Locke would keep Mary Jane Hart close. When you had a prize like her, you didn’t let her stray easily.

  Mary Jane left the bar, not looking back. She walked fast with hard, angry strides that almost made Vincent smile. Not that he’d had a whole lot to smile about in the last century or so. Too much blood. Death.

  Boredom.

  Mary Jane wasn’t boring to him. Quite the opposite.

  When she left, two werewolves followed her. Sure, they looked like humans, but he knew better than to be fooled. He could tell that they were beasts just by the way they walked—that predatory stalk was obvious. The way the men would stop every few moments, their heads stiffening, their necks shooting up as they sniffed the air around them—dead giveaways.

  The two werewolves kept Mary Jane in their sight as she hurried through the city. And he—well, he followed them.

  After all, he’d journeyed to New Orleans for one reason. Mary Jane Hart. He could play nicely with the werewolves for a time, if that niceness got him what he wanted. And if raising a flag of truce didn’t work…

  Then he would just take what he needed. He was very, very good at taking.

  Chapter Four

  “He’s not going to become a vampire.” Dr. Bob Heider took off his tortoiseshell glasses and rubbed the lenses. “The guy’s blood showed no signs of any mutation. You don’t have to worry about this one.” He put his glasses back in place then gestured toward the body on the slab. “He’s not rising.”

  Some of the tension left Jane’s shoulders. She and Dr. Bob hadn’t always gotten along so well, but now things were going much better between them. He wasn’t bullshitting her on the paranormal cases—after all, word had come down that she was the lucky detective who got to handle the monsters—and she was slowly finding her footing in the land of the supernatural.

  “Have you been able to tell what killed him?” Jane leaned closer to the body. “Any puncture wounds to show that a vamp attacked?” Because a vampire could have attacked the guy, but not transformed him. In order for a normal human to become a vampire, the human had to get the vampire’s blood so the transformation would occur. No blood, no new vamp.

  Unless you happened to be born waiting to be a vamp…like me.

  Dr. Bob nervously cleared his throat. She looked up at him. Th
e overhead lighting reflected off the guy’s very high forehead. His hair was receding fast, despite the sweep-over attempt that he’d tried this week.

  But he didn’t meet her stare. Instead, he kept looking down at the clipboard in his hands, as if every secret in the world were written there.

  Maybe the secrets were.

  “Dr. Bob?” Jane prompted.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead.

  Crap.

  “Y-you saw the claw marks on him,” he said.

  “Hard to miss them. But I wondered if maybe the killer was just trying to throw us off—make us think a werewolf had attacked.”

  Dr. Bob shook his head. “I measured the wounds. They’re all are the same.” He put his clipboard down. She realized that his fingers were shaking. He eased closer to her. His gaze nervously swept toward the closed door, then back to her. “The measurements are all the same.” He lifted his shaking fingers, spreading them just a bit as he curled his fingers. Then he made a clawing motion at her.

  Her brows shot up. “What in the hell are you doing?”

  “Werewolf attack,” he whispered, then threw another nervous glance toward the door. “Oh, shit, do you think your guards can hear me? I don’t want to get my throat ripped out.”

  She grabbed his hand before he could do one of those annoying-ass claw motions again. “No one is ripping out your throat. You work for the werewolf alpha, remember?” He’d been on Aidan’s payroll long before she came into the game. Aidan paid the ME well to make sure that paranormal murders didn’t leak to the press.

  Most humans didn’t know about the paranormals. Aidan wanted to keep things that way.

  “Aidan doesn’t like it when his own kind kill.” Dr. Bob licked his lips and beetled his bushy eyebrows at her. “You know what happened the last time a werewolf turned on him.”

  Yes, she did. Death. But Aidan hadn’t been the one to kill the wolf who’d betrayed him.

  “I think this human…his name is Alan Thatcher—I think he was killed by a werewolf.”

  “Alan?”

  “His prints turned up in the system. Guy had a charge of marijuana possession when he was eighteen. The charges were later dropped, but his prints were still on file.”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t think our vic was killed at the scene.” Dr. Bob tapped his chin. “There wasn’t enough blood at the scene, not based on the type of injuries he received. A werewolf killed him, then took his body to the cemetery.”

  “The scene was staged,” she murmured, dropping his hand. And that wasn’t good. A werewolf killer on the loose, one who wanted people to know about his crimes? Aidan definitely won’t like this.

  And I don’t like it damn much, either.

  Jane’s gaze slid back to the victim. Alan Thatcher. “Why you?” She would find out. That was her job. To give justice to the victims. That was why she’d wanted to become a homicide detective in the first place. Sadness filled her as she stared at all of his wounds. “This sure looks like a whole lot of rage to me.”

  Dr. Bob gave a grunting sound of agreement. “Seems to me as if the perp didn’t just want to kill the vic…the attacker wanted to destroy him completely.”

  “Disfigure him,” she whispered. Alan had been so handsome. Before. “A whole lot of rage,” she said again. “And maybe hate.” Jane rubbed the back of her neck. “Run every blood analysis and test that you can think of on the guy, okay? If he was special to the killer, maybe there was a reason why. Something that we don’t see, not yet.” And while he did that, Jane would learn every detail she could about Alan Thatcher’s personal life.

  She turned and headed for the door.

  “Are you…all right, Jane?”

  Dr. Bob’s question made her pause. A wry smile curled her lips as she looked back at him. “You sound worried about me.”

  He puffed up his chest. “No. Not at all.”

  She waited.

  His chest deflated. “You’re human.”

  Not according to Aidan.

  “You have to be careful in their world. I’m in it only as little as I can be.”

  He was warning her. That was almost cute. “And here I didn’t think you cared.”

  No humor glinted in his eyes. “They use humans. We do their dirty work.” His stare trekked to the body on the slab. “We clean up their messes.”

  “This isn’t a mess. It’s a man’s life. And I will find his killer.”

  “Even if that killer is in Aidan’s pack? Because he controls all the werewolves in the city. Once word gets out that a wolf did this…” He exhaled. “Those two outside probably already heard us. You know wolves have that freakish hearing.”

  Jane just shook her head.

  “They’re probably calling him right now—”

  Okay, he might be right on that point. She shoved open the door and strode into the hallway. Sure enough, her guards were there. Garrison was easy to spot with his messy mop of bright red hair. The guy was generally her lead guard. Mostly because he’d sworn some blood oath to protect her after she’d saved his ass. Only he was currently on his phone, hunched over and—

  Jane grabbed the phone from him. “Aidan? Yeah, it’s me. And what Garrison was trying to tell you is true.” She glared at Garrison. Seriously, I wasn’t even done with Dr. Bob. “We’ve got a werewolf killing in the city. And we need to stop him.”

  ***

  Jane strode down the New Orleans street, her steps fast and angry. She could hear her guards behind her. Keeping their careful distance. Was this really supposed to be her life? Constant guards? Aidan needed to back off with this shit. She was—

  A sharp cry sounded behind her. Jane whirled around. Her blond guard was on the ground, unconscious. A street lamp’s light fell on him, clearly showing his slumped form.

  “Jane, run!” That was Garrison’s yell. Her head whipped toward him. Garrison’s claws were out and he was facing off against a shadowy figure. “Get out of here!”

  The figure lunged for Garrison. The shadow picked up Garrison and held him at least a foot in the air, like the werewolf was some kind of rag doll.

  “Stop!” Jane yelled. She yanked out her gun. “Let him go!”

  The figure threw Garrison. The redheaded werewolf hit the lamp post with a hard thud. He didn’t get back up.

  And the shadow turned to face Jane.

  She kept her gun up and aimed right at his heart.

  He stepped toward her and illumination from a nearby street lamp hit his face. Not the face of some hideous monster, but a man. Strong features. Sensual lips. A small cleft in his chin. Thick hair. Intense eyes.

  “Hello, Mary Jane. I’ve been looking for you, for a very long time.” He took another step toward her.

  “Move again, and I will shoot.” Both of her guards were unconscious. And this joker—he thought he was just going to stride right up to her?

  “I’m not here to hurt you.”

  “Right. You’re just here to hurt the two guys who were with me.”

  He shrugged. “They were following you. I was afraid they meant you harm.”

  His voice held no accent, and he had a deep, rumbly tone. Rather like Aidan’s.

  The guy was about Aidan’s height, his shoulders were almost as broad, but he didn’t carry the raw, animalistic edge that Aidan did. This man—he was more suave. Controlled power. But the danger was still there. Plain to see.

  “I was trying to protect you,” he said. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”

  Was he telling the truth? Doubtful. “I don’t know who you are, buddy, but around here, if you attack first, that’s a one-way ticket to jail. You just assaulted two men.”

  “They aren’t men.”

  Her hold on the gun tightened. It was way after midnight and the street that housed the ME’s office wasn’t exactly booming with traffic right then. In fact, they were the only ones around. She’d intended to rush over to the police station and do a background search on her victim.


  That’s not happening now.

  “You’re under arrest,” Jane said.

  His gaze swept over her. “You aren’t alone.”

  Uh, no, she wasn’t. But her guards were currently unconscious. “You have the right to remain silent.”

  “I know that you think you are alone. You think that you don’t have options. You’re scared, and you have to be tired of the fear.”

  “Listen, buddy—”

  “Vincent. My name is Vincent Connor.” He smiled.

  There was no flash of fang, but his smile still unsettled her. Mostly because it looked far too intimate. As if the two of them shared some special secret.

  “You don’t belong with the wolves,” Vincent said.

  Crap. He knows way too much about me and about this town. “Put your hands up, now!” Jane barked at him.

  His hands slowly rose. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

  “Obviously—you’re just a crazy man. You’re out here, spouting about wolves and attacking innocent men. Maybe you don’t belong in jail. Maybe I need to find you a nice psych ward for the rest of the night.” It was a good thing she’d brought along her cuffs. Jane inched toward him. He wasn’t moving. His hands were still up. For the moment, he seemed to be following her orders. She grabbed one of his wrists and locked the cuff around him.

  His head turned as he stared down at her. “Don’t pretend with me. You don’t have to do that. I know exactly what is happening in this town.”

  She went behind him, caught his other wrist, and cuffed him. With his hands behind his back, she felt a bit more secure.

  Okay, not really.

  “Garrison!” She called to the fallen man. “Garrison, get up!”

  He didn’t move. So much for werewolf back-up. If her guards were just going to get their asses handed to them at the first sign of a fight, what good were they?

  “If you stay with him,” Vincent told her quietly, “he will kill you.”

  A cold chill slid over Jane’s body.

  The man—Vincent—glanced over his shoulder at her. “A vampire isn’t meant to stay with a werewolf.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Stop.” No anger was in his voice. He said the word almost as if it were a caress. “Don’t pretend with me. You never have to do that. I’m not here to judge you. Or to hurt you. I want to help.”