Back From Hell (4 page)

Jenai leaned forward, resting her chin on her arms. “Don’t lie to us, Dave. I can smell the drugs as clearly as I can smell the bacon you ate for breakfast,” she purred.

Steph sashayed up to him, swinging a lot of hip, letting him check out the long legs, the flat tummy, the breasts under the leather halter as she knelt in front of him. With a sweet, innocent-looking smile, she said, “We just want to know about Mannen. We aren’t here about the drugs—” though they’d be making an anonymous tip to the cops in the morning. “We just want him. Tell us about him, and we’ll leave you alone.”

The terror inside him grew and he whined, “He’ll kill me if he hears I been talking about him.”

Steph flashed him a charming smile—dimples appeared in her cheeks—and then she glanced over her shoulder at her sister.

With a husky laugh, Jenai asked, “And you think we won’t?”

“You really think we’re going to find him at
Baker’s
?” Steph asked doubtfully. “Wouldn’t he be nervous around that many cops?”

“He’s cocky enough to walk right into a cop bar, have a couple of drinks and swagger out, then kill somebody a block away. The cops don’t have any leads on who’s been killing those girls. No suspects, no eyewitnesses, nothing. He feels safe,” Jenai said, her back tensing up as they climbed into the car. “Even if they came after him, he’s were. He’s stronger, faster…
thinks
he is smarter. He’d just kill them and disappear. Find a new town.”

Damn, she hated cop shops. Too many eyes on her, leering, measuring her, trying to figure her out.

Normally, she’d avoid a cop hangout, but they didn’t have time. If Mannen was in there, he might be scoping out his next victim. And if he killed a cop next, it would make Jenai’s job that much harder. She knew what happened when a cop was killed, how angry it made the rest of the men in blue—she couldn’t risk a cop hunting down Mannen. Mannen would tear them apart, and there was too much risk for exposure.

The otherworldly population in America was slowly starting to edge its way into the mainstream population, holding jobs, not hiding what they were. Some were flagrantly open about themselves and their kind. Others still hid.

The last thing they needed was the rest of the country fearing the
autre
, the otherworldly populations comprised of the vamps, the weres, the fae. Scared people tended to become more stupid than they generally were. They didn’t need a damn witch hunt.

She felt him the minute she climbed out of the car. Sliding Steph a glance, she gave an imperceptible nod. His energy touched the psychic shields in her mind like static electricity, and the stink of death was almost palpable, even out here. With a roll of her shoulders, she slid out of the knee-length black coat, regretfully letting go of her bag of tricks and her own arsenal of weapons. Steph had removed the blade and her other assorted weapons with a glum sigh, so when she climbed out of the Mustang, all anybody would see was a stacked woman with caramel-colored skin, her long hair confined in its tight braid, and big silver eyes.

Next to her, Jenai felt like a colorless twig, but she had learned that not all men wanted a 36 D and yards of thick black curls. They slid each other one final glance, nerves dancing in their eyes, and then they started into the bar, all smiles and batting eyelashes.

Steph was the bait this time.

Mannen had a fondness for black women, as evidenced by the fact that most of his victims were either black or biracial. She wouldn’t be a victim, though. He’d most likely just want to fuck her. She had the scent of
autre
on her, the scent of a woman not quite mortal.

As did Jenai.

While no human would recognize it, there was little chance any of the
autre
would miss it. And Mannen wouldn’t choose a woman of the
autre
as his prey. He wouldn’t like the idea of a possible fight. He wanted to subdue, conquer, rape and then feed. Another werewolf would mean he’d have a fight on his hands.

But few werewolves could look at Steph and not want to fuck. It was a bit of a problem for them, as Steph was rather picky and not all weres took “no” very well. The werewolf lifestyle was full of the laws of the dominant. The stronger takes what he or she wants, and that’s that. Moving into civilization openly as they had in the past century had forced them to temper their ways some, but little had changed when it came to sex, especially among their own kind.

They saw, they wanted, the lesser wolf gave it up.

Problem was, Steph wasn’t lesser. She wasn’t as strong as a were male, but she was quicker, she was just as arrogant, and she hadn’t been raised as a were. She was a Night Stalker, and that power surrounded her, confusing those who looked at her, making them shy away even as they hungered.

“Well,” Steph said, her voice just a bare whisper, smiling that flirtatious smile. “At least he’s not a dog to look at.”

The minute they entered, they knew who he was.
Autre
didn’t blend well at all. Not if a person knew what to look for. He was blond and blue-eyed, good looking in a surfer boy style, with a charming smile, curls tumbling onto his forehead as he studied them, much as a lot of the men in there were doing. There was a vibration of energy around him that humans just didn’t have, almost like some sort of internal light.

But the air around him was black. To Jenai, it stank of blood…of death. The rage inside her threatened to spill out as she stared at him and remembered the trail of bodies he left in his wake.

They slid onto a couple of empty barstools, well aware of Mannen as he continued to watch them, his hand loosely holding a cue stick. “He blends almost too well,” Jenai said, her voice a bare whisper as she leaned over to murmur in Steph’s ear. “Not one of these cops senses anything off.”

The possibilities behind just how well he blended didn’t sit well with Jenai, but Steph look unconcerned.

“Nothing in the info I’ve gotten would lead me to think he’s a cop,” Steph said, shrugging. “That would have shown up on the reports I ran.”

“Unless he’s got a couple of identities stashed away,” Jenai mumbled. “It’s not like anybody has actually lived to give a description of him.”

As the bartender approached, Stephanie gave a breathy little giggle and smacked playfully at Jenai’s hand before turning her big, sparkling eyes on him. “I’ll take tequila, straight. Lemon instead of a lime…” her eyes drifted slowly down to linger on his mouth, then she looked back into his eyes and added, “For now.”

Jenai suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as she playfully jabbed at Steph with her elbow. “Steph, you’re bad.” The bartender’s gaze drifted briefly to Jenai’s before going back to Steph, interest heating his blue eyes. “I’d like a rum and coke.”

Steph giggled, waiting until he walked away before she said, “Well, he’s
cute
. And I wanna get laid.”

It was said in a low tone.

But they knew Mannen would hear.

Sure enough, by the time they had their drinks, Mannen was sliding onto the empty stool beside Steph. He gave them both an easy smile as he called for a Miller.

Too easy…

* * * * *

Jealousy had curdled inside Ronan’s gut as he watched the three walk to a room. Parking in the dark shadows near the edge of the parking lot, he kept an eye on them until they disappeared inside the room. As Brad closed the door behind them, Ronan’s eyes narrowed and he blew out a breath in a hiss.

He had known this would be a pain in the ass. But he hadn’t expected exactly
this
.

Closing his eyes, he clenched his jaw and told himself to be patient and wait.

His woman was one of honor—that had been something he had known the moment he had touched her in the world of dreams.

She might not be above using that sleek body if it worked in her favor. But she wouldn’t fuck a murderer. A rapist.

It was almost too much for him to tolerate though—after ten minutes, he was all but growling, fighting the urge to leap out of the car and pace the parking lot.

He almost left—he couldn’t stand this waiting, this silence. Nor could he leave Jenai alone with Mannen. He was dangerous—and despite the very obvious fact that Jenai King was every bit as dangerous, he’d be a sorry bastard if he left her alone with him.

* * * * *

Two hours later, as Mannen backhanded Steph and spun to face Jenai, she decided she had underestimated him. In the hotel room, he had been tugging Steph’s hair free of its braid as Jenai stood behind him, forcing herself to act horny as she rubbed up against his back.

Steph’s pendant tumbled out. The intricate knot shouldn’t have meant anything to him. Only reason it should mean anything would be if he had gone up against another Night Stalker before. But he had seen it and reacted as strongly as if somebody had tried to lob a fireball at him.

She couldn’t take the time to check on Steph. Her ears told her she was breathing, and her heart was steadily beating, and that would have to be enough. Without a blade, Mannen was going to be hard to beat. He was big, strong, and the power of the nearly full moon only added to his strength.

Her jaws ached. Gums throbbed. As she circled around the room, her eyes on his, she swallowed the pool of saliva that was forming in her mouth and tried to focus on his face, and not on the wildly beating tattoo of his heart or the pulsating vein in his throat that seemed to call her name.

“What the fuck are you?” he jeered. “I already knocked out the wolf bitch. And you ain’t no wolf. You think you can take me?”

She flashed him a wicked smile, incisors gleaming at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she purred. And the ache inside her jaws grew, almost overwhelming her. She ducked the roundhouse and snaked inside his guard, slipped behind him and leaped on his back, wrapping her forearm around his neck—and the siren’s call of his throat was just a breath away.

Damn it, the rages were getting worse—his heartbeat was hypnotic.
No. I’m not a fucking monster…
She knew that not all vamps were monsters, knew that not all wanted to feed to the death.

But she wasn’t fully vampire. She had the instincts of a Night Stalker and Night Stalker blood in her veins. They’d learned over time that it wasn’t a very safe, or stable, mix. She’d be damned if she gave in to the lure of blood deaths. Be damned if she’d start to
crave
the blood from violent death.

Rage made it almost impossible for her to focus on anything beyond the feeding, and her control was shaky. All she wanted to do was feed, and feed, and feed…

With this rage inside her, that lure was entirely too tempting. With a savage growl, she wrenched his neck with her hands, not checking her strength. As he fell down dead, she realized that she had damn near pulled his head off.

And still…her mouth watered.

Chapter Three

Steph awoke with a moan as Jenai slapped lightly at her cheeks. “Come on, little sister, we need to get rid of…that…and get out of here.”

Her head ached and throbbed and Steph winced as she reached back and touched the goose egg, probing the broken flesh with ginger fingers. The smell of blood was coppery on the air, and she’d shed enough that she could recognize the scent of her own. “Damn, he packs a wallop,” she muttered.

“Packed.” Jenai slid an arm under her and helped her sit up. “He’s dead.”

Steph stared at the man lying on the floor, his neck twisted at an odd angle, like a Barbie doll whose head had been jerked off and then been sloppily put back on. “We have to burn him,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Unless you feel up to getting his heart out. I know I don’t. And too many people saw us leave the bar with him. Going to have to get rid of him totally.”

He felt dirty. Even now.

Jenai scowled, her blonde brows drawing low over her eyes. “Damn it. Full moon.”

“Yeah,” Steph muttered. If they didn’t burn him, it was possible, just barely, that with the full moon so close, the corpse at their feet could come back to life. The power of the werewolf was a tremendous thing, and if he could harness the energy of the full moon… Eh, it wasn’t common, but they’d seen it before.

So either burn the body, cut off the head, or destroy the heart. Of the three, burning the body had the lowest
yuck
quotient. And was the least likely to bring too many questions to their door.

But…
where
? Hotels were too damn public, and they couldn’t risk another being hurt from it. Fortunately, they were at the very back of the hotel and they ended up going out the window. Steph first, then Jenai powered his body through the window, her shields completely down as she scanned for some sign of life around them. Nobody was awake—all slept in this tired little motel, thank God for small favors.

Steph kept watch out as Jenai came through the window, landing lightly on her feet, but the younger sister wasn’t feeling too hot just yet. Jenai’s image danced and split in two as Steph stared at her.

Jenai looked at her with narrow eyes and jerked her chin to the window. “Get back inside. You look like you’re going to collapse,” she said shortly.

“I’m fine,” Steph said, frowning, trying to make Jenai’s faces stop spinning and just be
one
face. Two Jenais. She couldn’t handle that. But the spinning and double vision only got worse and before she could even force a false smile, she wavered on her feet and had to slam her hand against the wall to keep from falling. “Okay, maybe not…”

With one silvery brow arched, Jenai waited. Steph sighed, and muttering under her breath, she climbed back through the window.

Remaining on the broken pavement, Jenai waited until she heard her moving around inside, then turned back to the corpse at her feet.

“Damn it. You couldn’t do it easy, could you?” she muttered.

Jenai slung his dead weight across one shoulder, stumbling under the awkward weight of it. The best thing to do was dump him in the quarry up the road, find some nice deep spot and set fire to his sorry ass. Weres and vamps burned almost like firewood, exploding into flame, burning to dust, so that all anybody would find was a pile of ashes.