“He didn’t know anything, not about the killer or about why Alan Thatcher tried to get into my office.”
A dead end, or so it would seem anyway.
Aidan was a few feet away from her. His hands were loose at his sides.
“You know the killer is in your pack.” Since they were facing off, why not be as clear as possible? “Are you planning to call everyone in? You could question them—force them to admit who is guilty—”
“My power doesn’t work like that on other werewolves.”
She’d suspected as much since she’d never seen him try to influence any of the wolves, but still, she’d needed to ask. “Then still call them in so I can question everyone.”
“They want to keep who they are secret, Jane. Most of them are leading completely ordinary lives. Just being human.”
“Look, you have fifty werewolves in this town—”
“Fifty?” He blinked, looking confused.
“You…told me that, once.” She was sure of it. The number had been jarring at the time.
Aidan had fallen silent. Not a good sign.
He rolled his shoulders in an uncomfortable-looking shrug. “The number is really closer to four hundred.”
What. The. Actual. Fuck? “Then why did you say fifty?”
“Cause I didn’t want you to freak out. This was all so new to you!”
She was freaking out. Four hundred?
“Look, Jane, some are kids, they don’t even know what they are yet. Some are elderly—they just want to be left the hell alone. Good people, not all killers. If I pull them in, if I line them up for you to question, then I’ll be destroying their trust in me. I’m the alpha. I’m supposed to be their protection. I need their trust.”
And I need you. Jane swallowed. “I have to interview potential suspects…”
“That’s why I have Paris working to see who has an alibi for the time of Alan Thatcher’s murder and who doesn’t. I’m narrowing down my wolves. Once I get a list going, we’ll go from there.”
Her muscles ached because she was so tense and stiff. “Are you holding back on me, Aidan? I thought we were partners.” He’d lied to me about the number of wolves in this town. “Partners don’t keep secrets.”
His eyes glowed in the darkness. “No, they don’t, Jane.”
Shit, he was talking about her biological father being a vampire. Her hands fisted at her sides. “I have work to do. So if you don’t mind…”
But he was there, right in front of her, the distance between them completely eliminated. “I mind, quite a bit.”
“Aidan…”
His hand lifted and curled under her chin. At his touch, heat seemed to shoot through her body. She always responded that way to him, no matter how furious or scared she might be…his touch always got to her.
Just as he did.
“I’m sorry.”
She found herself leaning forward a bit. “Come again? Because I thought you said—”
“I’m sorry that I’m not the man you want me to be.”
What kind of apology was that?
“I’m sorry that I let you down.” His voice was gruff. “I don’t…I don’t always understand humans the way I should.” Then he released a hard breath. “That’s not true, dammit, I’m not good with anyone generally—humans or werewolves. Emotions weren’t supposed to matter to me. I was raised—after what happened, I was taught…” But his words trailed away.
“Aidan?”
“Emotions were bad. Desires that were too strong—they were bad. I was supposed to stay in control. Always. And the last thing I was ever supposed to do…” Now his voice was low. She had to strain to hear him say, “It was fall for someone like you.”
***
Travis stumbled down the street. He shouldn’t have drank so damn much. He knew that. He was weaving. His head was spinning. And he was about seventy percent sure that he’d be vomiting all over the street at any minute.
It was a good thing the city cleaned the streets each morning. There were plenty of drunk assholes like him out at night, only most of them were still on Bourbon Street, living it up.
He couldn’t be in the crowd anymore. Because every time he turned around, he could swear that he saw Thatch. His buddy—his buddy was looking for him. His buddy needed him…
But I wasn’t there.
Going back to Hell’s Gate had been his shittiest idea to date. Being there hadn’t made the pain easier. It had just made everything worse.
He stopped at a crosswalk, his breath coming in shallow pants. Maybe he should have just let the detective get him a cab. Travis looked down at his hand. Her card was still curled up in his fist. She’d had a good voice. Determined. Husky. She’d sounded as if she really had wanted to help Thatch.
But I couldn’t remember shit to help her.
He started to step forward into the street.
A car horn blared at him.
Someone grabbed his shoulders and yanked him back. “Easy, buddy!” The voice was loud, grating, and…familiar. “You almost got yourself killed!”
Travis glanced back at his rescuer. “I…know you.”