Bitter Blood (Blood and Moonlight Book 3)(21)

Garrison’s lips parted. “H-help—”

The ceiling groaned again. Jane bent, grabbed his arm and she jumped out of that gaping hole in the wall. She leapt into the air, still holding Garrison tightly, and for a moment, she could hear the whistle of the wind around her. The people below her were screaming, she could see their open mouths, but she didn’t hear those screams. Just the wind. Her body was light, weightless. She was soaring.

She was flying.

She was—

Falling.

Shit.

Garrison slipped from her hold. She tried to grab him, tried to grab—

She hit the concrete. The wind stopped whistling. Everything just stopped.

***

When Jane slammed into the concrete, the watcher’s breath left him in a quick rush. He’d been standing in the crowd, blending perfectly because he’d followed Jane’s lead and taken a firefighter’s uniform. It had been easy enough to slip up behind one of the firefighters…and to slit his throat. The poor bastard was currently dead—and naked—in a nearby dumpster. It was so easy to hide dark deeds in chaos.

Jane had just come hurtling from that building, dragging some smoking redhead with her—literally, the dumbass had smoke rising from his clothes—and they were both on the ground.

When she hit the pavement, no one moved at first. He watched, waiting for Jane to leap up and race to her werewolf lover.

Only she didn’t move.

People began to inch toward her.

“Stay back!” A woman yelled. Then he saw the flash of a badge. “I’m police captain Vivian Harris, and I’m ordering everyone to stand the hell back so I can assess the scene and help these people!”

First of all…they weren’t people. And second…they sure seemed pretty far from the whole “help” stage to him.

He backed away from Jane and turned his attention to Aidan.

Aidan Locke. Werewolf alpha. He’d met the wolf before, and he sure hadn’t been impressed then. Aidan was covered in burns, but he was obviously still alive. His breath hissed out, and his eyelids were flickering.

“J-Jane…”

How unsurprising. Even hurt, his first thought was of her.

I’ll make sure she’s your last thought, too. After all, that was part of his job. To stop their bond. To shatter the link between them.

Soon enough, they’d tear each other apart. But right then, he had another assignment. He slipped away from the crowd and moved toward the ambulance on the right. Three ambulances were at the scene but he focused on this one. The one that housed Paris Cole.

Aidan’s best friend.

Aidan’s pack mate.

One EMT was in the back of the ambulance with Paris. A brace was around Paris’s neck and Paris…he looked like hell. But then, that was expected considering the bomb that he’d left for the wolves up in that apartment. John Smith. Not his real name, of course. He couldn’t use his real name now. It would have tipped off Jane and Aidan too much.

“How is he?” he asked, trying to sound concerned. And he was a bit concerned. If Paris was already dead, this little experiment wouldn’t work. He’d have to find another guinea pig. Guinea wolf?

The blonde EMT jerked at his voice and glanced up at him. “I don’t even know how he’s still alive,” she said, voice breathless. “But I’m praying he can make it to the hospital. Did you see him? He came from the second story!”

“They all did,” he said quietly. “The building was collapsing. I don’t think they had a choice. It was jump or die.”

Her eyes widened.

“I have training,” he said, still trying to sound like he cared. “Let me help you. There isn’t anything else I can do back there.” He jerked his thumb toward the fire. Then, without waiting for her response, he climbed into the back of the ambulance.

His gaze focused on Paris’s neck. The brace was there, so…did that mean his neck was broken? The guy is still breathing. So that means this shit should work. His hand reached into his pocket.

“I’ve got this,” the blonde said quickly. “My partner will be here soon and—”

He drove a needle into her neck. She immediately slumped over. The drug was fast, it knocked out its prey immediately, but unconsciousness only lasted for mere moments. He had to work fast, especially if her partner really was coming back.

He reached inside his borrowed uniform and took out another vial. One that was filled with a thick, red fluid. Blood.

Very special blood. He opened Paris’s mouth and emptied that blood inside. “You were supposed to die today,” he whispered. “But maybe this is even better.” Paris swallowed automatically, a reflex that made things so much easier. When he was sure that Paris had gotten the blood down, he shoved the empty vial into a pocket. Then he leaned over Paris once more. “I don’t think your neck is broken…” And Paris was starting to get color in his cheeks already. That just wouldn’t do.

After all, he did need a good test subject.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Fitting, considering the way Mary Jane Hart had been transformed. Smiling, he put his hands on either side of Paris’s neck and he yanked, twisting as hard to the right as he could.

Paris jerked, then shuddered…and lay very, very still.

“That’s so much better.” He hurried from the ambulance. He jumped down just in time to see…