Night Games (22 page)

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Authors: Crystal Jordan

BOOK: Night Games
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“Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll never know now.”
And that was the worst part, the speculation, the second-guessing, the never knowing. He’d learned to let go of some of the guilt, because he’d done what he thought was best, but in the end, Heather was dead. And if he’d been there for her, maybe she wouldn’t be. If he wasn’t who and what he was, she might still be alive.
He couldn’t take that kind of responsibility for someone’s happiness like that again. He wouldn’t. With Selina, he had some small amount of hope that he wouldn’t have to. She’d managed to survive whatever had put the shadows in her gaze, and maybe he could help her with those. Maybe since she was a cop, she could handle being with someone who had the same lifestyle.
Maybe. Maybe not. He’d never know unless he tried, so no matter how terrifying the prospect, he had to see what came of this. He had to know if his wife was right—if he really was incapable of giving a woman what she needed in a relationship or if he’d crash and burn a second time. Until Selina, no one had even come close to making him want to go another round with real relationships. All he knew was that when it came to her, he wanted more. He wanted everything. And even letting that thought form in his head was enough to break him out in a cold sweat.
But he’d be a fool to let go of something this good without a fight.
 
Selina sat in Jack’s office, her laptop plugged in before her, a stack of papers at her elbow while he worked on his half of the desk. After telling her about what had happened to his wife, he’d helped her clean up breakfast, kissed her good-bye, and drove back to his place to get dressed for work. He hadn’t said much since he’d arrived at his office, just went to work sorting through the massive amounts of information they’d found about their many victims. It was late afternoon, and they’d worked in silence all day. Companionable silence, but still.
She wasn’t sure how to take it. Silence now after he’d gone from insisting they were dating last night to telling her about his wife blaming him for blowing her brains out this morning.
What a selfish bitch. The thought was reflexive, as was the spurt of anger that ripped through her on Jack’s behalf. He was a good man, and he had absorbed too much responsibility for Heather’s weaknesses. But to blame him for all her unhappiness? To put all her shit on him when she was unwilling to seek some help ... what a selfish bitch. Selina knew it was a horrible thought to have about a dead woman. There were probably a lot of extenuating circumstances involved—law enforcement had taught her nothing if not that there were a million shades of gray in the blame game. Things were rarely black or white, right or wrong. But she’d still like the chance to bitch-slap the little sorority girl.
Sighing, she tried to refocus on the case. This was what she should be living and breathing right now, not worrying about Jack and his painful past. He didn’t seem to want pity or even sympathy. He’d never even told anyone about his wife’s suicide note. He’d carried that guilt around for decades.
She could relate. And that was the crux of the problem for her, wasn’t it? She could relate to everything with Jack. He drove her crazy, he made her think, he made her question herself and what she took for granted just by being himself. He was dangerous, just as he’d said about her. Why ...
why
did she have to find him now?
Her foot bounced against the floor as she tried to keep her thoughts from going in sickening circles.
Focus, Selina.
Focus on the damn case. She didn’t have time for man drama. Pinning her gaze to the screen in front of her, she got back to looking for any Magickal who might have been in all of the cities where the murders had taken place. Jack was doing the same. Every now and then, she glanced up at the lineup of victim photos on the walls. Every time they put another one up, she felt sick to her stomach. The ones from New Orleans weren’t even there. Yet.
A tiny voice in the back of her mind told her to tell Jack about her cousin. He’d told her about his wife, so he’d understand how she felt. He’d understand why she had to stay on this case, why she had it to see it through. She hoped. “Jack ...”
“Yeah?” His blue gaze moved from his computer to her face. “Did you find something?”
She shook her head, her heart thumping against her ribs, her palms slick with sudden sweat. She opened her mouth to give him more of herself than she’d given any man in close to forever.
“Damn, that’s some gruesome décor you’ve gone with, Laramie.” Delta’s drawl preceded her through the door, a stack of paperwork clutched haphazardly in her arms. She dumped it on the desk, several sheets spinning out to scatter on the floor, which she bent to retrieve. “This came for you guys, and I’ve been working on coming up with a better profile for your vampire. If you’ve got a few minutes, I can go over it with you.”
Selina sat back, deflated. She’d never know what she would have told Jack, but the moment had passed. Maybe work wasn’t the best place for that conversation anyway. It was related to the case, but it was also deeply personal to her. Tonight, when they were alone, she’d tell him.
Pushing away from his desk, Jack stood and stretched. “Should we get Peyton?”
“He’ll be along soon—he told me to go ahead and get started without him.” The blonde shrugged. “He helped me work most of this out last night anyway. I think the buildup to the full moon tomorrow night is messing with his sleep. It gets bad for a lot of wolves.”
“Bad is a relative term, especially around the full moon.” Peyton came in, his cell phone pressed to his ear. He held up a finger to ask for silence as he spoke to the person on the other end. “Right. Yeah, I owe you. Thanks.”
“What’s going on?” Selina leaned forward, tension winding through her at the expression on the wolf’s face.
“That was one of my contacts. I have a location on Gregor. He’s at Sanguine.” The wolf clipped his phone to his belt, pulled his weapon free, and checked the clip. “Suit up. Let’s go get him.”
“The Magickal nightclub? He’s out partying?” Jack shook his head, and she could see his body all but humming with the anticipation of the hunt.
Delta cleared her throat. “Actually, I have my doubts about Gregor being your guy. He doesn’t fit the profile.”
“He’s a vampire who likes to kill people, and we have a witness who can positively place him at one of my crime scenes standing over the dead body.” Jack grabbed his bulletproof vest. “Even if you’re right, I want to know why he was there.”
Selina rose and swung toward the door. “He’s got some questions to answer. I’m not convinced yet either way, but his answers may bury him.”
Her pulse sped at the thought of possibly finding Bess’s killer, of bringing him to justice. This could be him, this could be the moment she found out the truth, this could be when all of her questions were answered. If they could catch him. She didn’t put it past Gregor to get by them. He was a slippery bastard, always had been.
“I’ll drive.” She grabbed her bag. “I want to have the place surrounded when we go in for him. If he gets past us, I want enough backup there to dog pile him.”
“He’s a vampire. Too much and he’ll sense you coming,” Delta interjected. “You’d do better with a smaller team. Trust me, I know how Gregor operates.”
“I still want backup.” Selina looked to Jack. “Who are your best guys? Bring them along.”
He nodded, his phone already pressed to his ear. She led the way out to her car, her hands trembling a little as the adrenaline rush hit her hard. She controlled it, channeled it, as she had for the many years she’d been a cop. Now wasn’t the time to get sloppy, not when she might be so close.
 
“I’ll have my people cover the rear and side entrances; we’ll go in the front.” Jack strapped himself into his flak jacket, then pulled his weapon free of its holster. “There are civilians in there, so let’s keep this as bloodless as possible.”
“Here’s hoping,” Selina muttered, her pistol gripped snugly in her hands. Her face was set, her mouth a grim line.
“He knows our scents, so surprise is going to be pretty pointless.” Peyton grunted. “If you’re in Magickal law enforcement, you’ve run into Gregor. He knows everyone’s scent.”
Jack cued his ear comm. “Is everyone in position?”
“Ready when you are, boss,” replied one of his agents, a Fae with a sharp tongue and even sharper eye with a rifle.
Motioning Selina and Peyton forward, Jack pulled in a breath and let it ease out. His muscles vibrated with the need for action. “This is like the start of a bad joke.”
The elf shot him a look that said he was losing his marbles. “What?”
“You know, an elf, a human, and a werewolf walk into a bar ...”
Peyton snorted on a half laugh. “You are not right, man.”
“I’ve had worse said about me.” He flashed his badge at the bouncer by the door, who nodded and stepped aside. “Let’s go catch a bad guy.”
He spotted the vampire within moments of entering the club. The red hair was a dead giveaway, shining even under the low lighting of the bar. The man saw them coming, too, his eyes widened slightly, and what could almost be called an anticipatory grin flashed over his face. He saluted them with his drink, downed it, and then spun for one of the exits.
The energy building up in Jack had a direction, and he let it loose, diving after the vampire. “We have the place surrounded, Gregor. Give yourself up!”
He heard Selina behind him, a spell booming her voice out like a megaphone. “This is the police. I want everyone out of here, right now. Move!”
Screams pierced the air, and general chaos exploded around them. Jack kept his gaze on the vampire. One slip and the man would disappear, and Jack just wasn’t having that tonight. Their case needed a break, and this was it.
His heart pounded loudly in his ears, drowning out some of the squeals of fear and anger around him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Peyton body slammed by a huge wolf who’d half-shifted into a monster. Ignoring it, Jack pushed through the scurrying crowd toward his target, forcing a Fae aside and sending an elf reeling into a chair.
Gregor ducked his head out one door, then jerked back in as the roar of gunfire sounded from outside. People screamed louder, and a few spells zinged through the air. Jack ducked against a wall, taking as much cover as he could as he moved. Gregor spun, saw Jack, and whipped away again. He blinked and the vampire was disappearing into another room, one with thumping music playing and a dance floor where Magickals ran into each other in their haste to get out.
Dodging around running people, Jack hurried after the fleeing bloodsucker. Luckily, his escape was as hindered as Jack’s pursuit. Shooting in this crowd was impossible, though he wished he could, just to slow the bastard down.
Gregor darted through a door marked S
TAFF
O
NLY,
and Jack ran after him, leaping over a fallen woman. The throbbing music grated on his nerves, but he pushed everything away except catching up with the vampire. He couldn’t match the speed, but he could try to keep him in sight.
He ran through the doorway, his weapon at the ready in case Gregor decided to double back and attack. There was no vampire. Jack had a choice, up a set of stairs to the right or into the darkened bowels of the building. He chose up and bolted toward the staircase.
A shout sounded above him, and Jack ran faster, taking the steps three at a time. The deep roar of a werewolf was followed by a vampiric hiss and a huge crash. He got to the top of the stairs in time to see Peyton exploding into a half shift. In seconds, he was seven feet tall, his face shooting out into a snout with dripping fangs, deadly talons tipping his fingers. He slashed at Gregor, who skittered backward, but not fast enough. Blood sprayed when the ends of Peyton’s claws ripped through Gregor’s flesh.
The vampire’s eyes flashed red, and instead of retreating, he plunged forward and sank his fangs into the werewolf. The two went down in a crash, flailing and slashing at each other with fangs and claws. They moved almost too fast for Jack to track, let alone get a decent shot in, and they took down stacked tables and chairs with them. Gregor rolled to the top, a broken table leg in his hand. He bashed Peyton in the head with the thick piece of wood, crushing his heel down on one of the wolf’s hands, and Jack heard the sickening sound of the bones snapping.
“Laramie!” Selina slid to a stop behind them. Lightning twined around her arms, and she darted forward to throw a bolt of it at Gregor.
The vampire was on her in seconds, backhanding her across the face. She blasted him away from her with more lightning, and Jack took his opportunity.
Wrapping his arm around the vampire’s neck from behind, he drove his fist into the other man’s side. Gurgling a shriek, Gregor whipped around, slamming them both backward into a wall. The breath exploded out of Jack’s lungs, and he wheezed through the pain. He couldn’t match the vampire for strength or speed, so he tightened his grip around the man’s neck. Again and again, Gregor rammed them into the hard wall, until Jack felt it begin to give.
Exhaustion sapped at his strength, and his arms shook with the effort to hold on. Agony flowed in waves up and down his back, sweat sliding down his skin, burning into his eyes. The vampire twisted and bucked hard, and Jack couldn’t maintain his grip. He flipped through the air, covering his head with his arms to protect it. Crashing into the floor, he rolled over and over until he hit the top of the stairs. He grabbed for the rail and caught himself before he could tumble down the steep steps.

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