“Put your hands up,” Jane snarled to the shadow she saw there. “I don’t know who you are or what you think is happening—”
A woman screamed. High pitched. Terrified. The shadow burst apart, and Jane realized she was staring at two people, not one. Her light hit the couple—young, maybe teens. The girl was wearing heavy Goth make-up while the boy looked like some kind of surfer, only when the surfer opened his mouth—
Fangs. He has fangs. “I will shoot you right now,” Jane snarled at him. “If you have so much as bruised her, I will—”
“Relax, Jane, he’s not a vampire.”
The surfer’s body swayed, as if he was close to passing out.
The girl with him screamed again.
And Jane—she risked a quick glance over her shoulder. Because that deep, dark, familiar voice had come from right behind her.
She couldn’t see the speaker clearly in the shadows, but then, she didn’t need to see him. She recognized Aidan Locke’s voice instantly. Not surprising, really, considering that just hours before, she’d been in bed with the guy. “Aidan.”
“He’s not a vampire. Just some punk kid.” Aidan’s voice was mild as he stepped closer to her. “And I think you’re about to scare the piss out of him, sweetheart.”
Hell. Jane focused on the couple once more. “A man has been murdered here tonight.”
The girl screamed again. Jane winced. That chick had some powerful lungs. Jane tried to sound soothing as she said, “I need you both to come with me.” Because maybe they’d seen something that night. Maybe they knew something about the killer.
They inched closer to her. There was no blood on their clothes. They were shaking, their fear obvious. Did they have any idea just how dangerous this place was? “Are you here for some weird make-out crap?” Jane demanded. “Because tourists have got to stop playing around at this place.” Before more people ended up dead.
Real monsters didn’t like it when humans came to their playground. And this particular cemetery? St. Louis Cemetery, Number 1. It was a paranormal mecca.
“S-Steve said it would be fun,” the girl squeaked.
Jane rolled her eyes. God save her from boys with stupid make out ideas. “You’re not supposed to be here unless you’re with a damn tour group.” High rates of vandalism—and the fact that the paranormals had claimed this cemetery—meant that access had been strictly limited lately. Or it should have been limited.
“Maybe you should lower the gun,” Aidan advised Jane softly.
So she was still aiming her gun. Jane wasn’t sure she trusted the kids. Actually, she didn’t trust anyone. With her past, how could she?
Jane’s right side seemed to burn as she stood there. An old reminder. As if she needed reminding.
“Jane…”
Fine. She lowered the gun. “I need to keep searching the cemetery. If the killer is here—”
“I’ll search,” he assured her.
“No, Aidan, I—”
But he was gone. And the guy was no doubt moving at that supernatural speed of his. As an alpha werewolf, there was very little the guy couldn’t do.
A good thing…and a bad thing.
Jane heaved out a long breath as she stared at the terrified couple. “Did either of you see anyone else at the cemetery tonight? Did you hear anything?” Like a dying man’s screams?
They just stood there, shaking.
The victim had been tortured. There was no way he’d gone down easily. Or quietly. “How long have you been here?” Jane demanded.
“A-about ten minutes,” the girl confessed. “We…we were gonna get here sooner, but I had to wait until my parents went to sleep before I could—” She broke off.
But Jane knew how that sentence would have ended. “Before you could slip out.” Jane huffed out a hard breath. “Trust me on this one, you owe your parents. I think their late night just saved your life.”
There was a rustle behind her. Jane turned around, her fingers still tight on her gun—
“No one else is here,” Aidan said. “The place is clear.”
But…
But I heard someone calling to me. Just a few moments ago. I heard a man’s voice. Only that voice hadn’t belonged to her lover.
Had it belonged to the killer?
“Jane?” Aidan pressed. “What is it?”
“I…” A siren screamed in the distance. More cops, maybe even the ME, coming to the rescue. “They may have seen your super speed thing,” she whispered to Aidan. “You…going to take care of that?” She hated asking because it felt so wrong.
Take care of that…Careful phrasing for a task that scared the crap out of her. Aidan Locke wasn’t just a werewolf. He was the werewolf, the alpha in town. And being an alpha meant that he had certain powers and strengths that normal werewolves didn’t possess. One of those powers was the ability to control humans—what they thought. What they remembered. She didn’t like that control because the idea of it scared her.