Born to Love (The Vampire Reborn Series) (Entangled Ignite)

by Caridad Piñeiro

  Bingo. Both were a match to the earlier crime scene hits.

  They now had enough evidence to identify their killer. But how would they ever create a believable final report? Much less explain to the families of the victims what had happened to their loved ones?

  “Special Agent Reyes?” Katie called loudly, pulling Diana’s attention from her smartphone.

  “Sorry. Just going over some reports,” she explained, and clicked off the phone, feeling like a kid sent to the principal’s office.

  To her surprise, a sympathetic look came over the other woman’s face. “It is okay to take a little down time, Special Agent Reyes.”

  Diana smiled in thanks, and walked into Jesus’s office. He was sitting at the desk, but seeing her, he came around to give her a friendly hug.

  She blinked. “Did I look like I needed that?” His immediate shift into non-boss mode had thrown her.

  “You look a little tired and distracted.”

  “We had a late night yesterday and I’ve got lots to report.” She dropped onto one of his visitor chairs.

  Jesus crossed his arms and leaned against the edge of the desk. “What have you got?”

  She ran down the results Maggie had just forwarded, as well as the information they’d learned from their visit to the shifters. Then she told him about her plans for the day. “I need to speak to Maggie about these reports, then David and I are going to pick up a shifter who might be able to give us a lead on Jefferson, or some of his friends.”

  Jesus peered at her intently, his look hardening slightly.

  “Is there some concern, Jesus?”

  “You’ve been going non-stop on this case for days, running yourself ragged.”

  “I can handle it,” she shot back, but there was a thread of uncertainty woven into her tones that her friend immediately noticed.

  “Want to tell me what’s really going on with you?” he asked.

  She blew out a harsh breath, rumpling her suit pants with her fingers as she hesitated. Where to start? Emotions and thoughts were spinning round and round in her head and heart, but Jesus would understand.

  “In no particular order. I think Maggie and David are involved again. The chill between David and me has thawed. I know who killed four people, but if I tell anyone other than you they’ll think I’m nuts. Last but not least, the toxic cells causing me problems are back…and may be in the baby, too.”

  Jesus’s jaw tightened, all casualness gone in an instant. He moved to the chair beside her and took hold of her hands. His were overly warm, but she knew it was because that inner chill was starting in her body again, evidence the contamination in her blood was returning.

  “Are you worried that the whole Maggie and David thing will have an effect on the investigation?” he asked, picking the easiest topic first.

  She shook her head. “Not in any negative way. If anything, having them together may eliminate other distractions.”

  “Like Rafe Lazaro?”

  She nodded. “Like Rafe. Although we’ll have to deal with what Maggie may be going through.”

  “Yes. Eventually,” Jesus said, then prodded, “What about you? Can you focus on the case—”

  “Absolutely. I want to close this case before— Melissa wants me to go in for some tests. Umbilical cord blood sampling. It may put me out of commission for a few days.”

  “What can Michaela and I do to help?”

  “How is she doing?” Diana asked at the mention of his dhampir lover who’d been injured a couple of months ago.

  “She’s better. Still not 100%, but better, thanks,” he said.

  It was Diana’s turn to offer comfort. With a squeeze of his large hands, she said, “Michaela was hurt pretty badly. It may take time for her to fully recover, but she will. She’s tough.”

  “I know, but I worry. The Slayer Council has cut her off, so she’s alone now.”

  Diana shook her head. “No, she’s not. She has you, and all of us. We’ve got her back, whenever she needs us.”

  Jesus offered her a terse smile. “I appreciate that. The same goes here. I’ve got your back, too, Diana, so what can I do to help?”

  She thought about all that needed to be done, and decided there was one task in which Jesus would have a decided advantage. “As much as I don’t want to bail on David,” she said, “I think our witness might be more cooperative if you went with him. They respect size and muscle, and you’ve got plenty of both.”

  Jesus nodded and grinned. “I’m yours. So what’s this witness’s name?”

  “Weasel. Little guy, but strong. Looks like a ferret, and is probably as wily as one.”

  “Weasel, huh? Let me guess. Shifter,” Jesus replied and with a final reassuring squeeze, rose to return to his desk chair.

  “Yep, shifter. Which raises the next issue—our report. My gut instinct is to write this up as a psychopath who kills his victims while disguised as a large animal. The disguise is his way of becoming the werewolf he believes himself to be.”

  “You’re the psychologist, Diana. If you think you can sell it in your profile, I’ll run with it,” Jesus said, alleviating one of her concerns.

  While it would definitely be a stretch, it was the only possible way to put a human face on the killer and offer closure to the victims’ families.

  Providing closure was one of her main reasons for working for the FBI. Because she understood the need for it on a personal level. Until her father’s killers had been caught and brought to trial, every day had been filled with anguish and rage.

  “David and I agreed to meet for lunch to finalize plans,” she told her boss. “I’m going to bring Maggie in on the discussion, too.”

  Jesus nodded. “Meet in the war room?”

  “At noon,” she said, and was on her way out when she stopped to look back at her ADIC and friend. “Thank you for everything.”

  He gave her a puzzled look. “For what?”

  “Your support. Forcing David and me back together.”

  He shrugged his broad, massive shoulders in a matter-of-fact way. “Had to happen, Reyes. I couldn’t have my best team at odds. Although Santos and Alexander might be giving you a run for the money in that category.”

  “I doubt that,” she said with a smile at the mention of the newbie team with whom she had recently worked the Broadway Butcher case. To everyone’s surprise except hers, the couple had recently gotten engaged. But she’d seen the caring between them as she worked alongside the team. Along with something else—Helene Alexander’s goddess powers.

  Not even Jesus knew Helene’s secret—that she was actually Nemesis, the goddess of vengeance.

  Diana hoped Helene had finally learned the difference between vengeance and justice…which brought Michaela to mind once more. Like Helene, Michaela had a one-track mind in her role as a Slayer. Even though the young woman was apparently on the outs with the Slayer Council, Diana suspected Michaela still intended to carry out their brand of justice—death to any vampire who killed or turned a human.

  Would Michaela make an exception if Ryder must one day turn Diana, to save her life, and the life of their child?

  Arriving at the door to Maggie’s office, down in the basement next to her lab, Diana knocked and waited for her friend’s “Come in.”

  As she entered, she saw that David wasn’t the only one looking a little sleepy that morning. Even at this later hour and after a very large coffee, judging from the tall paper cup on Maggie’s desk, her friend still bore smudges of tiredness under her eyes and in the slight droop of her shoulders.

  “Late night?” Diana kidded, with a wiggle of her brows.

  A knowing smile ghosted across Maggie’s face. “Don’t play coy. We’ve been friends for too long for that.”

  Diana eased onto the chair in front of Maggie’s desk and held up her hands. “Spare me the TMI details. All I want to know is, are you happy with the outcome?”

  “Yes, but confused,” Maggie replied, and took a bra
cing sip from the coffee cup before adding, “I don’t know where it can go. Maybe nowhere.”

  “Only time will tell, Mags. Just don’t give up on it. Or him.”

  “I spent time with Rafe last night, too,” Maggie said.

  Diana’s eyes opened wide. “Whoa. A threesome? I didn’t think that was your speed,” she said, wide-eyed.

  Maggie laughed as she’d intended. “Rafe and I had a long talk over some fabulous pierogies and kielbasa. He told me what he’s been learning with Brendon, and how he can now stay alert and in control when the werewolf emerges.”

  “Unlike the night he bit you. You do remember that part, right?”

  Maggie sighed and sipped her coffee. “Yeah. It’s hard not to be angry, but I believe him when he says he barely remembers. Apparently that happens often during the first few shifts, if you haven’t been trained.”

  Diana dug back into her recollection of the discussion with the pack leader. “But some shifters don’t remember and can’t control themselves during the cycle. Like Brad Jefferson, do you think?”

  “Yes. Although Rafe tells me that Brendon doubts the claim about Jefferson’s lack of control.”

  Diana doubted it, too. The man had managed to lure the pack leader to a trap and seriously injure him with poisoned claws, and also stir up trouble with the half-bloods. Not the actions of a man out of control. “I agree. Which means Jefferson is a lot more dangerous than we first believed. For all we know he can shift at will, and may be stalking another victim as we speak.”

  “Or he could be using these killings to lure out the were–pack leaders for some reason,” Maggie mused.

  Diana had also suspected that, after the discussions last night. “If Jefferson has managed to convert enough half-bloods to his ideas, he could be planning to take out the pack leaders in one fell swoop. Especially now that they’re hunting for him. He knows it’s him or them.”

  Maggie nodded. “Brendon has doubled security around his wife and on his patrols with Rafe, but you saw how determined and overly confident the other alphas behaved.”

  She had. “And arrogant. Convinced of their own infallibility. Never a good mix. The question is, which of them will Jefferson strike at first?”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  David wheeled onto the sidewalk, every movement agonizing from his shoulders and chest down to the palms of his hands. He’d pushed himself too hard yesterday, from the trek up and down the stairs to the night spent in Maggie’s arms.

  Not that any amount of pain would make him regret that decision. Last night had been astonishing, filled with glimpses of a woman uncertain in her skin, yet determined and strong. Maybe strong enough to love him again. He hoped. For her love had been right there for him to see as she shared her body and soul with him.

  “Two o’clock,” ADIC Hernandez called out quietly as Weasel appeared down the street, approaching his Delancey apartment building. The area had once been a Jewish ghetto, but had now been virtually swallowed by the growth of Chinatown.

  “I’ll head him off,” David said while Jesus circled around to box in their target.

  Weasel’s gaze flitted furtively all around, so David kept low in his seat, using the protection of the cars parked along the curb to hide him until Weasel was almost at the corner. Then David rolled out and blocked his way. The shifter uttered a grumbled curse as he jumped back to keep from colliding with him. Weasel started to lash out, but then realized who it was.

  He set his hands on lean hips and eyeballed David with a disrespectful sneer. “You don’t really think you can catch me, do you, gimpy?”

  In a flash, Weasel whirled and raced away, and bounced straight into Jesus’s broad and immensely larger bulk.

  Like a mother cat carrying its young, Jesus grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck and lifted him a few inches off the ground.

  “Going somewhere, Weasel?” David asked sardonically as he rolled around to face the little shit.

  “Put me down. I done nothing wrong,” Weasel cried, kicking and twisting his body in an effort to break free of Jesus’s grip, but to no avail.

  Unamused, Jesus got right in the shifter’s face. “Stop struggling or we’ll cuff you and haul your ass into headquarters.”

  Weasel quieted, his gaze bouncing anxiously between the two of them, but repeated, “I done nothing wrong.”

  David glanced around at the windows and doors of the small shops and residences around them. Eyes gleamed bright red from behind window curtains in some, while from others the braver souls poked their heads out or even ventured onto the sidewalk to see what was going on.

  Good lord. A were-ghetto.

  With a sharp look at his ADIC, David pushed off on the arms of his wheelchair to get closer to the shifter. Pain radiated through his muscles. In a low whisper, he said, “We know you’re playing both sides, Weasel.”

  “That’s a lie,” the shifter shot back, but his nose twitched with agitation while his gaze darted anxiously from them to the other were-rodents trying to listen in. Word would spread quickly if they heard.

  David leaned in closer. “I don’t think you want it getting back to the pack leaders that we were here questioning you.”

  “I got nothing to worry about,” Weasel said, but his nervous glances said otherwise.

  David snorted. “My partner, the redhead, is a half-blood. She was sure she smelled wolf on you.”

  “Lots of those smelly dogs around the other night,” Weasel muttered, his telltale twitches increasing. Obviously, David had hit a nerve.

  Jesus lowered the creep to the ground, keeping a firm grasp on his neck. David leaned forward and sniffed deeply, acting like he was capable of picking up the scent. But as he inhaled, the thick smell of canine hit his senses.

  He made a sound of disgust “Hell, I’m human and even I can tell. You smell like a wet dog.”

  He peered down at Weasel’s shoes and noted the red-brown stains along the toe of one worn off-gray sneaker that he was sure had once been white. With a certain smile he said, “Looks like some pretty damning evidence there, ADIC Hernandez. What do you think? Blood?”

  Jesus’s lips tightened into an angry slash as he bent to examine Weasel’s sneakers. “Hell, yeah. I think we’ve got ourselves a suspect.”

  Weasel kicked out at Jesus’s shin, connecting with a loud thunk, but the ADIC was like a rock and didn’t relax his hold. Again Weasel attacked his legs, and lightning fast, Jesus had the little man down on the ground. He pinned Weasel’s arms behind his back and easily cuffed him despite the man’s bucking and struggling to loosen his grasp.

  The ADIC hauled him to his feet and gave him a hard shake. “Assaulting a federal officer, Weasel. Not a good move.”

  David helped drag the suspect to the van after cuffing him and they shoved him into the back seat.

  After David settled himself behind the wheel, Jesus slid into the passenger seat. Turning to their prisoner, he pulled out his weapon, popped the magazine, and showed the shifter the silver bullets. “Don’t try to shift your way out of the cuffs, either,” he warned, and jammed the magazine back in with a loud clack.

  Smothering a smile at the resigned look on the shifter’s face, David pulled away from the curb and drove back to headquarters, eager to grill the little creep.

  …

  Maggie had quickly confirmed that the blood on Weasel’s sneaker was not only human, but the same blood type as one of the victims killed in Randall Newark’s brownstone. DNA testing would determine if it was, in fact, from the young vandal.

  Diana peered through the window of the interrogation room at the anxious shifter, who skittered around and around the periphery of the room as if looking for some hole through which to escape. He had been in there for several hours after the initial interview, which had yielded frustratingly few results. Weasel had maintained his innocence and pleaded ignorance as to how the bloodstains had gotten on his sneaker.

  Diana knew there was only way it could have
happened. Weasel had been at the scene of the crime. Judging from the splatter pattern, he may even have been there when one of the victims was killed. Unfortunately, neither his current clothing nor anything in his apartment had yielded any additional blood evidence. Clearly, Weasel had been smart enough to ditch whatever else he’d been wearing at the time of the murders.

  At a soft knock on the door, Diana opened it to find Maggie, David, and Jesus, along with Brendon, Rafe, and Ryder standing outside in the hallway.

  Ryder.

  “I wasn’t expecting you,” she said pointedly, but politely, and with a firm hand on his arm, led him a few feet away from the rest of the group.

  Ryder forestalled her lecture by saying quietly, “I dropped by thinking my wife might like to take a moment and get some dinner.”

  She shot a look at her watch and cursed beneath her breath. It was well beyond time for a break and some nourishment. She had become so involved in sweating the shifter she had lost track of time. But now it was impossible to leave for dinner. To have any hope of breaking Weasel, they needed to keep the pressure on him.

  “I’m sorry. I should have called,” she said, acknowledging the truce they had worked out the other night.

  He cradled her cheek and offered a loving smile. “Darlin’, I know you’re busy. How can I help? Maybe some takeout?”

  Glancing back at the others, she called out, “Anyone else as hungry as I am?”

  After the chorus of agreement, she nodded and said, “I guess some food would be good. We can eat in the conference room.”

  “The one with the murder boards?” he asked with a slightly discomfited look.

  “That’s the one.”

  “How appetizing,” he drawled, but added, “I’ll make the arrangements.”

  He started to walk away, but she grabbed his jacket’s lapel and hauled him close for a hard, brief kiss.