Jaxon (Blood Angel Chronicles Book 1)

by Jennifer Field

  The savagery at which I attacked is no longer like me, or at least it hasn’t been for nearly a millennium. I pride myself on the level of restraint I show in everything I do. I look around, regaining my sanity, after momentarily forgetting where I am.

  Maitlin’s street.

  Someone named Neil wants her.

  I look at my blood-covered victim. He got what he deserved.

  An orange glow is beginning to creep its way into the night’s sky. I look down at my watch and clean the coagulated, sticky red goo from its face. It is nearly five, and the sun rises early this time of year. I am not going to have time to clean up the mess I made and not be caught out in the daylight. Lucky for me, vampires don’t leave fingerprints.

  I’ll let the blood-drained corpse be a message to the low-life scum who think grabbing Maitlin while she sleeps is a good idea.

  You come for my girl, and I’ll come for you.

  MAITLIN

  Having lived in urban areas for the better part of a decade, I am more than used to the sounds of the city. Over the years, the mind tends to block out the honking of horns and the blare of sirens. I find the background noise almost soothing to fall asleep to at this point. That is, until the loud sound of the police siren is directly outside my window, and my housemate is a crazy person.

  Shellie bursts into my room before I even have a chance to open my eyes and look out the window at the inevitable chaos below. “Oh my God! The entire street is blocked off with police cars and fire trucks and unmarked black SUVs. It looks like a scene out of Law and Order or something out there.”

  I groan and pull the blankets over my head. “Don’t you knock? What time is it?”

  “It’s just after eight.”

  “Eight! In the fucking morning? What is wrong with you? You did get in at three or four—whatever time it was—the same as me. Why are you even up, caring what is going on outside?”

  As if to emphasize her point, she opens the curtains and lets the morning sun flood my room. The downside about living with Shellie is that despite working nights, she is a morning person, and always has been, whereas I would be utterly nocturnal if it were a viable option at any point.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this. You have to come and look.”

  I know there isn’t going to be a shred of hope that she will leave my room so I can go back to sleep until I get up and look out the damn window. So I swing my legs out from under the covers and slowly sit up, but still refuse to open my eyes fully. Instead, I peek out through one and see her with her face pressed up against the window.

  “You know, those do open instead of leaving a big ole’ face print on them that needs to be cleaned off,” I grumble as I unwillingly get out of bed.

  She holds up her hand and gives me the finger without even bothering to turn around. I get up and haven’t yet taken two steps before the doorbell rings, followed by a loud knock. We both look at each other in surprise that anyone would be knocking at our door so early. Well, early for us, but not necessarily for the rest of New York.

  The persistent and relentless knocking continues until we reach the door. Shell hits the intercom button and speaks, “Yes?”

  A man’s deep voice with a thick New York accent comes through the speaker. “Yes, hello. This is Detective Ridge Wood with NYPD. I’m here with Detective Stone. Do you have a moment, please?”

  Neither of us answer, and the buzzer rings again.

  I swing my arm towards the front door. “Well, you might as well let them in. It’s not like they’re going away.” I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the hall mirror and outwardly cringe. I fell into bed, not bothering to wash my makeup off then I tossed and turned all night while visions of Jaxon danced in my head. So, to say I am looking a bit rough around the edges is an understatement.

  Shell pushes me out of the way and fixes her hair. “What? They could be hot cops. And you know how I love a man in uniform… or out of uniform.” She winks.

  All I can do is roll my eyes at her. Shellie seems to be living in a delusional episode of Law and Order, where every cop is smoking hot. But let’s face it, this is New York, and there are thirty-eight thousand police officers. The odds of the two knocking on our door being hot are slim to none.

  “Do I look okay?”

  I shake my head, wondering how we are friends. “Seriously, it’s eight-thirty in the morning. Why does it matter?”

  “Do you know how long it’s been since I got laid?” She stands with her hands perched on her waist, looking at me like I am the crazy one. “I need there to be a hot cop on the other side of that door, preferably with handcuffs and maybe a Taser, if he’s feeling kinky.”

  I motion for her to open the door, and three seconds later… I wish I fixed my hair and am wearing anything but the black leggings and a tank top that have seen better days.

  The two officers who walk in are nothing short of gods. The kind that cause even the toughest of women to speak nothing but gibberish and behave like they’re infatuated twelve-year-olds.

  Both hold out their badges as they enter the foyer. “Good morning, ladies. We’re sorry to have to bother you so early on a Saturday. But there was an incident on your street, and we’re talking to everyone in the neighborhood to see if anyone saw or heard anything out of the ordinary.”

  I look over at Shell, who also notices that the two officers are hot as hell. Unlike me, she is already fawning over them, all doe-eyed and hair flipping. I guess it has been a while for her, and she is pulling out all the stops. I’m pretty sure I hear her ask to see their badges up close and personal, whatever that means.

  The taller of the two steps forward and holds out his hand for me to take. “I’m Detective Mason Stone.”

  I can’t help the chuckle that escapes my lips. “Seriously, your name is Mason… Stone?” I look around for any confirmation that someone might find it as humorous as I do. Even Shellie stands there looking at me like I have three heads.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He doesn’t wear a uniform, but rather a pair of well fitted black dress pants and a white button-down shirt. His badge hangs around his neck on a black lanyard, and he has clean-cut dark brown hair and brown eyes that a girl can get lost in. But when he smiles, that’s when the big guns come out. Two perfect dimples.

  He holds out his hand, and I give it a light shake and smile back. “Maitlin… and that’s Shellie.”

  He holds my hand for a moment longer than was necessary, but I’m not complaining. “As we said, we’re talking to everyone in the neighborhood to see if anyone saw or heard anything out of the ordinary last night or early this morning.”

  He takes a photo out of the manila folder he’s holding and hands it to me. The moment I see the man’s face, my heart sinks to my stomach and my knees weaken. Mason must have noticed because he places a tentative hand on my shoulder.

  “Are you okay? Have you seen this man?”

  I take a seat on the arm of the couch to get a closer look at the photo. It doesn’t seem to be a mugshot, but looks more like a blown-up driver’s license photo. He’s an average looking man in what looks to be his mid-thirties—pretty non-descript, even. “I saw him the other night.”

  “So, you know him?” the handsome detective asks. He continues to speak and question me about who the man is and how I know him, but I’m not paying attention. My mind wanders to the other night, when I saw the man in the picture. More specifically, Leif’s reaction to him.

  The guy came into Rise at about nine-thirty on Thursday, which in and of itself wasn’t odd. We’re pretty much a New York hotspot any day of the week. But unlike the rest of the crowd, Leif was very adamant that I, in particular, not serve him. More so after the strange guy refused service from several of the other bartenders who were working that night.

  The guy even went as far as to tell Leif that he only wanted to have me serve his drinks. Leif stepped in and practically pushed me out of the way, something he never did, not even
with some of the more mouthy guys we dealt with. Leif knows I can hold my own in any verbal altercation and has never physically removed me from any situation.

  No, this was different. This was… protective. He even asked the man to leave the bar for no reason other than, as he put it…he didn’t like the look of the guy. The stranger didn’t move. He just sat at a table in the corner, nursing his drink until about a half-hour before we closed. Then he just got up and left.

  “Ma’am…Maitlin.” The detective’s voice steadily rises until I finally look up.

  “Yeah… I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I asked you if you knew him.” He runs his hands through his hair, the irritation in his voice apparent, and his frustration evident by the audible sigh he lets out. “Did you not pay attention to anything I just asked you?”

  “No… I mean, yes, I heard you, but no, I don’t know him. But I saw him. He came into Rise the other night. Is he dangerous?”

  The detective gives his partner a sideways glance that says more than he has in the last few minutes. “Jaxon’s place.” He nods, as if that is the answer they were looking for all along. “We should head over there.”

  At the mention of Jaxon’s’ name, Shellie stops talking to the other detective, and her demeanor turns from high school flirt to lawyer-sober in the blink of an eye. She moves over to the detective, her features stoic and severe. Not the Shellie I have known for so long.

  “So this guy.” She grabs the picture from Detective Stone’s hand. “Is he dangerous, someone we should worry about?”

  “This guy.” He snatches the photo back. “Is dead.”

  “Dead…is that what’s going on outside? Some dead guy is lying in the street in a pool of his blood and guts? And he just so happens to have been at the bar Maitlin worked at a few nights ago? I mean, I’m no detective, and I’m not one to tell you how to do your job…but that seems like quite the coincidence, don’t you think?” Leave it to Shellie to be so eloquent in her description of the carnage that is outside.

  A look I can’t quite describe passes between the two detectives. One so subtle it could have easily been missed. There is more going on than they are telling us. Not that I have ever been questioned or interrogated by the police before, but I’m pretty sure that’s the way it goes. They ask the questions, not us.

  And yet, the subtlety in that the look shared between the two men has me more than a little concerned. “What aren’t you telling us about what happened or who this guy is…or rather was?”

  Detective Wood holds up his hand. “Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything for either of you to be concerned about. To your point.” He gestures to Shellie, who is standing here looking about as challenging as she can at eight-thirty in the morning. “I do think it is a coincidence that he… died near your apartment. At this point, I don’t think there is any reason to be alarmed. The information you gave us was more than helpful.”

  He pulls out a business card from his pocket and hands it to Shellie. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

  I swear he gives her a wink as he speaks. “Have a good rest of your day, ladies. Thank you for your time.” They are out the door before we can even blink.

  “Did any of that seem strange to you?” Shellie asks as she stares at the door.

  “Other than the fact that no one found the fact that the guy’s name was Mason Stone funny but me… no.”

  Shellie lets out a laugh. “Oh my God, I get it... Mason Stone. Cause a mason works with stone. Do you think he might have a hot brother named Chip?”

  JAXON

  I spend most of the day trying to find out more about my little morning snack, while simultaneously trying to find out who the fuck Neil was. Sadly, sleuthing is not my strong suit, and I’ll have to call in the head of my security team to get me the information I require. The only positive about the day is that the dead guys' phone has several pictures of Maitlin on it. All of which I may have downloaded and looked at most of the day.

  I step off the elevator on my office floor and can smell the presence of two shifters, whose scent I don’t immediately recognize. That is, until I turn the corner and see two of New York City’s finest waiting outside my office.

  Mason and Ridge are detectives, yes, but they are also members of Leif’s pack. Shifters of any species don’t tend to stay within the confines of a city for very long, Leif's pack even less so.

  They are snow leopard shifters, whose territory stretches across northern Canada, where people are scarce and summers are in short supply. So the sweltering heat of New York in July does not make it high on their list of places to live. Somehow Leif and his two older brothers have endured for years.

  “Gentlemen,” I greet them, knowing they will follow. I don’t bother to give them as much as a backward glance as I unlock my office door and walk inside. “Seems as if they’ll let anyone on the executive floor these days. To what do I owe the pleasure?” It’s not like I’m not already aware of the nature of their visit.

  I lean against my desk and motion for them to sit. Despite their NYPD affiliation, they are more than aware of who the alpha in the room is, and it isn’t either of them. I tap my fingers against the mahogany. “Well? I’m guessing this isn’t a social call, or we’d be upstairs drinking. So what can I do for the two of you?”

  Ridge hands me the manila folder he was carrying. I don’t even bother to open it, I just toss it onto my desk. There is little point, and I know what I’ll find.

  “We’re here investigating …”

  “The drained bone bag outside one of my employee's homes.” I watch as the bravado they walked in with deflates. There is no point in prancing around what I already know. They are here to dig up information, and on the flip side, I want to know what they know.

  Mason comes forward, invading my personal space until we stand toe to toe. “And just how the fuck do you know that? The goddamned body is barely cold.”

  A bold move. Mason, is a born leader and had he stayed in the blustery tundra of the Canadian wilderness, I’m more than confident he would be pack leader by now. However, this isn’t his territory, it is mine, and I’m not one to be intimidated by a pup just barely off his mother’s teat.

  My upper lip curls, revealing my sharp canines as a low growl emanates from my throat. Mason takes a cautionary step back. He isn’t stupid. “I didn’t mean…”

  I hold up my hand. “There isn’t much that goes on in this city that I don’t know about, and I suggest you remember that.”

  I pull the cell phone I took the night before out of my pocket and hold it up. “This was taken off our dead friend. Who just so happened to be sitting outside of Maitlin Addams’ apartment, waiting for her and her roommate to go to bed so he could… well, I don’t know, but I can assure you it wasn’t a social call.”

  Mason runs his hands through his hair in apparent frustration. “Fuck, Jaxon. We can’t have a drained body sitting out where anyone can find it. The one who did this needs to be dealt with swiftly and harshly. I don’t care if he thought he was justified or not. We have laws in place for a reason.”

  I watch as he grabs the file off my desk and takes the picture out. “This guy…”

  I don’t bother letting him finish whatever nonsense he was going to spout about the dead guy in the car. I don’t care whether or not the asshole was about to be sainted for his good deeds by Mother fucking Theresa. “He’s a small part of a bigger problem, is what he is.”

  “Maitlin saw him the other night up at Rise. Do you know that?”

  Fuck if that doesn’t make my blood run colder than it already is. The dead piece of shit was here right under my fucking nose. In my fucking bar. “So why are you down here wasting my time when you should be upstairs talking to your brother?”

  “Because of a vigilante vampire…” With a firm hand on Mason’s shoulder pulling him back another few steps, his brother steps in before he can continue with his accusations.


  “It is merely a courtesy, Jaxon.” Whether he agrees with his brother's opinion or not, Ridge is smart enough to know that the conversation is over. “Rise has video surveillance that we’d like access to.”

  “Anything you need, of course,” I relax my stance but don’t lower my guard. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that the contents are not for… general viewing.” It isn’t that Rise is exclusively a non-human club—on the contrary. But cameras have a way of picking up activities that are not for public consumption.

  The knowledge that Zach was frequenting my bar the past few nights means there is most definitely footage that should not be viewed by human eyes. The guy is anything but subtle.

  I glance down at my vintage Rolex. Maitlin will be here any moment for our meeting if she isn’t already waiting outside my door. “Gentlemen, if you go down to see Cole, my head of security, I’m sure he will be happy to assist you in anything else you may need.”

  Mason holds out his hand, palm up, obviously not for shaking. “We’ll take the dead guy’s phone.”

  I glance down at his outstretched hand and can't help the small chuckle that escapes me. I meet Mason’s eyes, mine flashing a bit of crimson at my irritation towards the young shifter. He’s ballsy, I’ll give him that. “I’ll have Cole analyze it and get you any pertinent information he may find.”

  He drops his hand, clearly annoyed. A look passes between the two detectives. They are more than aware that I have more information than I am not willing to give them at this point. But they know better than to push the conversation further than I am ready to let it go. “And the vampire responsible?”

  “Look, accidents happen. Contrary to popular myths, most vampires do not go around draining low-life scum and leaving them where anyone might happen upon them. I’m sure our dead friend, while careless on the part of the vampire responsible, is a one-off.”