I don’t even hesitate to wrap my arms around her and pull her into me for a comforting hug. We may be business partners, friends, and family even, but our bond goes deeper than blood. I let her cry and try my best to reassure her that everything will be fine.
Even though internally, I’m struggling with emotions myself, Kap needs me, and I’m here for her.
Moving into my office, I shut the door, and we take a seat next to each other on the couch. Daylight streams in through the protective glass, yet when I stand to get bottled water, I avoid the light reflected on the floor out of habit. I hear her chuckle, and I’m briefly relieved I can still make her laugh.
Taking my seat next to her, I put my hand on her leg. There's never been anything sexual between Kap and me. Don’t get me wrong, she’s stunningly beautiful, and the office gossip has always been that we are more than friends. Which we are, just not in the way everyone thinks.
“Tell me everything.”
She wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath before speaking. I’m not sure what I’m expecting her to say. But when she tells me that the attacker was waiting for Maitlin inside her bedroom, I know it’s the same psychopath that sent the man I killed outside their apartment—Neil.
Her details are all third-hand, and when I ask questions, most of her answers consist of “I’m not sure.”
“I sent Cole to the apartment as a precaution even though they have this guy in custody. I don’t want the girls to stay there. I know realistically it’s safe, but first, there's a dead guy in a car outside and now this.”
I don’t mention the connection between the two. There's no need to worry her even more. Her knowing that, in this guy's eyes, her niece is expendable won’t help the situation, which makes me wonder where Shellie was, if he was waiting for Maitlin. I assumed she went home after leaving Black Door, but apparently not if Maitlin was alone in the apartment this morning.
I’m a bit curious about how much Shellie mentioned to Kap about the night before. The Black Door isn’t off-limits to Shellie, but to Maitlin, as a human, it’s a different story.
“Where were they that this guy was waiting for Maitlin all night? Was Shellie home?”
Shaking her head, she gives me my answer. “No, the girls went out clubbing last night and slept at a friend's house. Maitlin went home this morning, but Shellie stayed behind.”
“I’ll call downstairs. They should stay here until this is sorted,” I say, glad to have any excuse to have Maitlin close.
“Thanks, but I don’t think either of them will want to stay at the same place they work.” My heart momentarily sinks until she continues. “So, I’ve already secured them an apartment at The Tower.”
The Tower is one of the many luxury apartment buildings that JDL owns in the city. It also happens to be where I live. “Even better.”
She gives me a tentative smile, mistaking my comment as sarcasm. “Don’t worry, they won’t be cramping your style. I made sure they’re nowhere near the penthouse level.”
I try not to let my smile give away the excitement I have at the potential of having Maitlin so close. “They can stay there as long as necessary, you know that. Anything they need, you don’t even have to ask.”
“Talking to you has made me feel much better. I’m just glad neither of them was seriously hurt. I might have to sick my blood-sucking friend on him.” She winks, and I flash her a little fang.
Little does she know that I fully intend to show Maitlin’s attacker what it means to fuck with my girl.
“And sadly, they won’t cramp my style one bit.” I tease. “Why don’t you go get them settled in at The Tower. Detective Stone will be here in a few minutes, and I’ll find out what I can and keep you posted.”
She’s barely out the door, and I’m dialing Maitlin’s number for what seems like the millionth time, and again it goes to voicemail. From the details that Kap was able to tell me, I know Maitlin is okay, but I still need to hear her voice. My frustration is at the boiling point when Mason walks into my office.
“Don’t you knock?”
Without a word, he comes in, glares at me, and sits down, the cocky fucking bastard. I take my usual stance, leaning against my desk, arms crossed, and wait for him to speak. We stare at each other for what seems like an excessive amount of time, each of us playing the same game, establish dominance.
“So you fucked her,” he states flatly.
Not exactly the phrase I thought he would lead with, but again, the kid has some balls on him.
I’m not one to kiss and tell, and I’m not about to start with Maitlin, someone I could easily see myself developing real feelings for. “I thought you came here with information about the asshole that attacked her. Not some school-yard bullshit. What were you doing there anyway, just happen to be in the neighborhood?”
Ignoring my question, he continues, “I thought you don’t like humans.” His defensiveness regarding my relationship with Maitlin tells me more than words ever could.
I have no intention of placating his childish remarks. I walk around my desk and open the drawer where I have the dead asshole’s phone stashed, and I toss it over.
He catches it mid-air, his reflexes are still very much cat-like regardless of his current human appearance. “What’s this?”
“The phone from your car-corpse. I’ll trade you that for five minutes with the man you have in custody.”
He tosses it back on my desk, a look of disgust on his face. “That isn’t the way the law works, Jaxon. I called you as a courtesy since your scent… and your mark, were all over her this morning.” I don’t miss the sneer he gives me.
“And I’d appreciate you not sniffing around what's mine. So unless you decide to take a piss on something in my office to show dominance, I suggest you tell me what you know.”
“Yours?” he scoffs. “This morning was the first time I smelled your stench on her.”
Faster than he can track, my hand wraps around his throat. “Mine,” I say through gritted teeth.
I watch as he visibly backs down, the bravado he was wheeling gone. It’s in his nature to be the alpha and push for dominance in all situations, but where Maitlin is concerned, he’ll never be her alpha. For him to become a pack leader, the one he was born to be, he must learn humility and when to back down against a stronger opponent.
“Am I clear?”
Without a word, he gives me a single head nod. He may be a cocky bastard, but he’s smart enough to know his place on the food chain. I lean casually back against my desk, my composure back in place. “Now, about the dirt-bag that attacked her.”
I give him a moment to contemplate where he wants the remainder of our conversation to go.
“I don’t know if he intended to kill her, but he would have. He’s human, but…” he trails off, choosing his words carefully.
“But?”
“He smelled…off. Not human.”
The odor from the asshole in the car comes to mind. He was one hundred percent human, of that I have no doubt. But he had an almost demonic stench lingering around him. Something isn’t adding up, and in life, like in business, all things need to balance. This doesn’t.
“Off how?”
I watch him as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. With a deep breath, he gives me the answer I don’t want to hear. “Demonic.”
A demonic stench on both has to be investigated by our authorities, not humans. If we can’t make the connection, then I’ll have to talk with Maitlin about her ex’s acquaintances, perhaps even his family.
It’s not exactly a topic of conversation I take lightly. Introducing Maitlin into my world will need to be something we discuss sooner rather than later if we’re going to continue our relationship. And not something I’ll spring on her for information regarding her ex. Even I’m not that big of an asshole.
“Fuck.” I debate my next words. Incriminating myself in the death of a human isn’t high on my list. But there’s something more
significant than the two assholes at work, and somehow, Maitlin’s unknowingly involved. “The body in the car had a demonic stench to him. Give me my five minutes with the asshole in custody, and we’ll have the answers we’re missing.”
Mason jumps out of his seat and storms toward me. His posture says attack, and a low growl emanates from him. I stand my ground, my eyes going crimson, and my fangs bared.
“I’d rethink your next step if I were you, boy. My patience with your lack of respect is growing thin.”
“Fucking hell, Jaxon. You’re standing here telling me you drained that guy and left him to rot. What the fuck kind of respect are you looking for?”
“The kind where people don’t fuck with what's mine.” I look him dead in the eye. I’m referring to the human in the car. However, I don’t want any misunderstandings. Maitlin is mine, and I will kill for her. “He wasn’t waiting there to make a fucking social call.”
I know I broke laws that were put in place by the Blood Angel Council… a council that I, myself, sat on. Admitting to Mason that I was the one to leave the drained body is a direct violation of rules I had a hand in writing, and is punishable by death. That is, of course, only if the human authorities investigate, which they aren’t.
“You’re not above the fucking law, Jaxon.”
“And this is no longer a human police matter, Detective.”
We both know I’m right. The demonic stench on two humans isn’t a coincidence and not something any human authority is equipped to deal with.
“You’re not an Archangel anymore, Jaxon. Protecting all of mankind isn’t your job any longer.”
His words pierce my heart sharper than any sword. I turn away to look out over the New York skyline, not letting the emotions in me play across my face for all to see. I stand and watch as the sun descends on another day, the bright yellows and oranges casting shadows across the glass expanse of this urban forest.
“I no longer wish to protect all of humanity, I only want to protect her.” I turn to look Mason in the eye, realizing that without him, she wouldn’t here for me to protect.
“Well, fuck, I never thought I’d see the day when a woman, never mind a human woman, would have you so tied up. I took you as a suck-em and fuck-em kinda guy.”
“I was going to thank you.” Not words I’m accustomed to throwing around and thankful I don’t have to now.
“For?”
“Protecting her when I was unable. But after that suck-em and fuck-em comment, you can go fuck yourself.”
The heavy air that was between us has lifted with the understanding that we both want the same thing for Maitlin—to be protected.
“I wouldn’t want you to go getting all grateful on me. I might end up having to like you.”
I let out a much-needed laugh. “Don’t count on it. I’m still a prick.” I slap him on the back as I pass him on my way out the door. “Now come on, let's go talk nice to this guy you have in custody, and move him to a more secure location.”
JAXON
It doesn’t take us long to get to the precinct where Neil was in custody since this morning. When we arrive, I’m itching to follow Mason to the holding cell, but opt to wait in his office. Looking around now, I can’t imagine why he continues to work in the human sector. All this place is missing is a chalk outline on the floor, and it could pass for a crime scene.
It’s a dismal space with dated furniture. If I could contract hepatitis, I’m sure I would from the looks of the tattered and stained chair I’m currently sitting on. The rickety wooden desk has also seen better days, and there’s paint peeling off the walls and a suspicious water stain on the ceiling.
I’m going to have to ask why he continues to work as a detective for the human police. He can make ten times what he currently brings home working for any number of non-human companies, in much more desirable surroundings. How a shifter with his sense of smell can spend any amount of time in a building that reeks of sweat, piss, and despair, is well beyond my comprehension.
I hear the metal clang of a door slamming down the corridor, then the unmistakable stomp of Mason's feet as he makes his way down the hall, shouting about the incompetence of the department and the patrolman who had prisoner watch.
The force he uses to push open the door is well beyond human, and the handle embeds itself in the wall behind it.
“He’s fucking gone!” Mason shouts as he swipes a pile of papers onto the floor from his desk. “Twenty-four hours. He’s supposed to be detained for twenty-four fucking hours minimum after a domestic call. God fucking dammit.” He slams his fist down against the desk, and it moves a few inches scraping against the linoleum flooring.
“What are you talking about? What do you mean he’s fucking gone?”
He flops down on the chair behind his desk, and I’m surprised that the wooden thing holds. “Some woman came in about an hour ago, paid his fine, and they just let him fucking walk.”
“A woman? What woman?” My mind races to visions of Mailtlin paying his bail. Would she come and get him released? Is that why she still hasn’t bothered to call me back? She’s heading back to Boston with the asshole that nearly killed her? It’s not unheard of for battered women to return to their abusers.
When I opened her phone this morning to program my number, the picture that came up was of her and some douche-bag smiling for a selfie. “Do you think it was Maitlin? There must be a video of his release.” I try to keep the panic out of my voice.
Mason picks up the desk phone—a device so old it’s pathetic—that seems to fit right in with the rest of this godforsaken office.
I take the opportunity while he asks more about Neil’s release to call Maitlin once again. It goes directly to her voicemail, which is now full, so I text her, yet again.
Me: It’s Jaxon call me.
I shoot over a second text, and I wait.
Me: Please.
Nothing. It doesn’t even go to read.
“Fucking hell,” I spout out under my breath. Her blatant disregard for my concern by not responding has become unacceptable.
“Problems in your ivory tower of paradise?” I don’t miss the condescending tone Mason has as he speaks.
I don’t want to get into a discussion about feelings or why I’m about to go on a murderous rampage if he doesn’t get me some fucking answers as to who got Neil released and if it was Maitlin.
I keep my answer simple, waving my phone in the air. “No, just waiting for Maitlin to text me back.”
“You’re going to be waiting until she gets a new phone, then. Her dickhead boyfriend—”
“Ex,” I interject. The word boyfriend about Neil has my hackles up.
“What?”
“He’s her ex-boyfriend, ex-fiancé, actually.” Fuck, this woman has me sounding like a teenage girl squabbling over some fucked-up detail.
“Whatever the fuck he is, he smashed the shit out of her phone. She’s not going to be texting you back any time soon.”
Relieved, I regain some of my manhood and brush off his comment about her lack of phone as the reason she isn’t contacting me. I give a shrug and pocket my cell. “What an asshole,” I say about Neil. “Does this place have footage of his release or not?”
“We do, but it’s off-limits to civilians.”
Standing, I move to the door, not seeing anything but a dated laptop on his desk. “That won’t be a problem.”
“Why, are you going to use some vamp Jedi-mind-trick on everyone?”
I’m already on edge, and his off-handed comments aren’t helping. My need to beat something to a pulp is just about at its boiling point, and if his face happens to be in the way, so be it.
Blood Angels and vampires do have the ability to sway people's thinking and manipulate their free will. It just so happens that the human mind is always an easy target. But laws against such practices were strictly enforced for the past fifty years.
That is, of course, not taking into consideration places
around the world like The Black Door Club, where mind control is considered consensual and part of the overall thrill for the few humans who are granted entrance.
I grit my teeth and bite my tongue. “No, I thought I’d smile and be nice for once. And if that doesn’t work, I figure I’ll write a nice, big, fat fucking check. Money has a way of allowing me to do things others can’t.”
Being one of the richest men in the country does have its perks. Generally, there isn’t anything that money can’t buy.
As we walk back through the bowels of the precinct where, apparently, they keep detectives locked away, several female officers pass, each giving me a coy smile, and one even gives me a flirty wink.
In this city, despite my attempt at maintaining a low profile, I am still pretty recognizable. In the past, I wouldn’t have hesitated to take one or all of them aside to sink my fangs and cock into. But in the few days that I’ve known Maitlin, the desire for anyone else has gone. Still, general politeness prevails, and I give each a smile and a quick “hello” as we pass.
“You’re unbelievable,” Mason scoffs.
“What?”
“Maitlin’s attacker is roaming the streets freely, and you’re flirting with every female officer who walks by.”
“You do realize there’s a difference between flirting and just being polite, don’t you? Or didn’t you learn that in obedience school?”
He doesn’t bother with a witty comeback, so we continue upstairs to the ground level where the interrogation rooms, offices, and generally anything built in this decade are located and where we will hopefully be able to identify the person who bailed out Neil.
When we enter the viewing room, I have to wonder if they buried Mason in the basement for a reason. This level is as modern and well equipped as any New York office building. No peeling paint, no water stains on the ceiling, or decrepit vermin-infested furniture.
Looking over at Mason, I can tell by his uncomfortable stance he’s aware of what I’m thinking.
Jaxon (Blood Angel Chronicles Book 1) Page 15
