Bob’s knees nearly buckled. Jane?
“Use the fire on her,” Paris ordered quietly. “You’ll have access. You can do it before she changes. You can save lives by making sure Jane won’t rise.”
This was bull. “You’re asking me to kill her? Kill Jane?”
Annette Benoit shook her head. “Jane is already dead. We’re asking you to stop the monster before it can be born.”
Jane wasn’t a monster. She was…Jane.
“She’ll be too powerful when she rises,” Paris continued as he stepped closer to Bob. “This is our chance. When questioned later, you can just say a fire broke out in your office. We can explain it all away…”
Bob moved quickly away from Paris. “Screw that. I’m not burning Jane.”
“She’s not Jane anymore,” Annette said, her expression grave. “How long will it take you to realize that?”
His chin jerked up. “I’m leaving.”
Paris was in his way. The guy needed to take a freaking hint—
“Five hundred thousand dollars,” Paris said.
He’s offering to pay me to kill Jane?
“I want this done by the time Aidan wakes up,” Paris continued in a dark, emotionless voice. “He shouldn’t have to be the one to face her. He shouldn’t have to go through that hell again.”
“Take the fire, Dr. Heider,” Annette urged.
He grabbed the bottle. “You’re both nuts.”
“You’ve seen what vampires do.” Paris’s eyes reflected his pain. “Do you think Jane would want to be that way?”
No, no, he didn’t but…
Jane can’t be dead.
He shoved past them, nearly running down the stairs so that he could get to the lower level of Hell’s Gate. And, yes, the bottle was gripped tightly in his hand, but he wasn’t going to use it. He wouldn’t burn Jane.
But Annette’s voice seemed to whisper through his mind once more. Do you think Jane would want to be that way?
Chapter Fifteen
Jane was on his table.
Bob stared at her face. So pale. So…peaceful.
Jane had rarely had much peace when she was alive. She’d always been rushing off to another crime scene. Always so desperate to stop a killer. To save a life.
And now she was on his table.
He had to blink a few times. This was wrong. Someone else should be doing the exam on her but…
I’m the only one who can handle the paranormal cases.
His gaze slid toward the bottle Annette had given him. It sat a few feet away, on a nearby counter. Was he really supposed to douse Jane with that liquid and walk away while she burned?
His hands were shaking when he turned away from her. He hurried over to his microscope. He’d taken a few samples from her earlier, and he wanted to see what was happening to her cells.
Maybe Jane won’t turn. Maybe…
But he looked at her blood under the microscope. The blood of a dead woman. And the cells…they were already changing.
Evolving.
Something is coming back to life in Jane.
Breathing was hard. He stumbled and his shaking hands knocked over the microscope. He wasn’t the one who usually handled the vampires. When he had a corpse on his table that showed signs of change—Bob always looked at the cells under his microscope—he put in a call to the werewolves. They were the clean-up team. Aidan and his crew came in. They stopped the monsters from going on a bloodlust fueled rampage.
But…
Can Aidan stop Jane?
Could Aidan kill the woman he loved?
“Jane, I am so sorry.” Bob grabbed the bottle of liquid fire. His breath heaved out in heavy rasps. “You didn’t deserve this.” He could almost hear her laughter in his mind. He could see the way her eyes would narrow while she listened to him talk about a case. A faint furrow would appear between her brows.
I was her friend. I owe her peace.
He took a shuffling step toward the table.
“I’m sorry,” Bob said again.
***
Aidan’s eyes flew open. He stared up at the ceiling above him. His ceiling. His office. His club.
His…Jane?
A howl broke from him, one of pain and rage. One of grief—a grief that was already ripping him apart. Because when he stared at that ceiling, Aidan saw Jane.
Jane…covered in blood.
Jane…with her neck broken.
Jane…gone.
He leapt up from the couch, his claws out and his muscles stretching as the transformation burned like fire in his blood.
The door to his office flew open. Paris was there, his eyes wide, his face haggard. “Aidan…”
“Where is she?” Aidan was half-man, half-beast. All rage and pain and fear.
“You have to calm down.”
In less than a second’s time, he had Paris against the wall and Aidan’s claws were at his friend’s throat. “Where is my Jane?” Speaking was so fucking hard.
“D-dead,” Paris gasped out. “But you…know that. She was dead—”
“She jumped in front of me.” Each word was a growl. “Took the bullet…meant for me.” Dammit. He could have survived. As long as the bullet hadn’t hit his heart…