“What—what happened to the Feral?”
This was the part Jude dreaded. His eyes were on her hands. So delicate next to his. “When I turned twenty-one, Grandpa Joe died.” There’d been no one to hold him back then. No one to grieve, in case he failed. “The next day, I started hunting.”
And he hadn’t stopped until he’d found his prey. “I hunted the bastard down and I ripped out his throat.” The blood had been hot on his tongue. The tiger had been so very thirsty. “I found out I was good at hunting.” At killing. Too good.
“That’s why you ended up with Night Watch.”
His gaze lifted to her face. “Yeah. Pak heard about me. I’d shoved my way deep into the Other world.” It had taken months, but he’d tracked the bastard. “Pak offered me a job.” An outlet for the rage the guy had still seen brewing beneath his surface.
“Why’d you take the job?”
Huh. Again, not the question he’d thought she’d have. “Because the tiger’s always been fighting his leash and hunting satisfies him.” Me.
She didn’t speak. Was she afraid now? Did she think he was a twisted freak like that ass**le after her?
A revenge kill. Yeah, not something nice and orderly. Not something the good guy was supposed to do.
But he’d never told her he was good. There were dark places in him. So damn dark.
That’s why he was so good at his job. It was easy to hunt the sick freaks when you could think like them.
“Don’t be afraid of me.” The words were ripped from him. They came out as a demand, instead of the plea they should have been. “I swear, Erin, I’m not like the ass**le out there. I would never, never hurt you.”
More silence.
He turned away. Jumped from the bed. “I-I’ll—” What? What was he going to do? He couldn’t leave her, not with that prick out there. He couldn’t—
“Why did you tell me this?”
His head jerked back toward her. She’d risen from the bed and was walking toward him. “Because I wanted only truth between us. You deserved to know.” She’d taken him into her body so sweetly. Given him so much.
Trust—he’d given it to her.
She knew his darkest secret now. His darkest shame.
The next move was hers.
She stopped in front of him. Her hand lifted and stroked his cheek. Then her arms wrapped around him, and she held him close.
And he held her tighter than he’d ever held anything in his life.
The bastard was in the motel with her. Touching her. Kissing her. Taking her.
Did Erin really think that cat would keep her safe?
Or was this to punish him? Was she angry with him? Hadn’t he shown her how much he cared for her?
That he’d do anything for her?
Anything.
She’d gone to the Trent house. He knew it. She’d seen those kids.
Did she know what he’d done? For her. Always.
Maybe she’d wanted that kill for herself. Maybe that’s why she was with the hunter. She was angry—
No, no, he couldn’t have that.
She had to understand that the kill had been for her.
He yanked out his cell phone. Punched in the numbers for 911. Yes, yes, this was the easiest route. They’d report his call, but they wouldn’t be able to trace him. Not with a disposable cell like the one he’d picked up hours before.
The call was answered on the second ring.
“911. What is the nature of your emergency?”
“Tell Detective Benjamin Greer that he can find Donald Trent’s body buried in the woods behind Trent’s mother-in-law’s place.”
“What? Wh—who is this?”
He pressed the small button on the cell, ending the call.
When Erin found out exactly what he’d done, she’d appreciate him again. After all, he’d returned Donald to his boys. To his family.
“For you,” he whispered, and turned away from the hotel window.
The next day, Jude worked beside Erin, digging into case files she’d snagged from her old office. Good thing the DA was slow as hell about reassigning cases and cleaning up paperwork.
They were in the old Lillian government building, home of the District Attorney’s office, and the files were spread around them. Jude still thought there was a link to the crimes somewhere but she—
She didn’t know what was happening.
Erin snuck a glance at him. Last night, he’d pulled away after his confession. She’d tried to reach out to him, but, she’d hesitated.
Because his story had scared her. To know that he could kill so easily. Had killed so easily.
Two men in her life. One who swore she was his mate—and he was killing for her.
The other man— her lover—with a past bloodier than her own.
But at least Jude wasn’t claiming to be her mate.
What should she say? She knew he wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe she should just start with that. As for the darkness inside him—
Like to like.
Who the hell was she to judge?
“Erin Jerome? ”
The deep voice, rich with surprise, had her tensing.
Jude shot to his feet and turned to face the door.
A man stood there, tall, with broad shoulders, his black hair graying just a hint at the temples. He wore a gray suit, not his usual long, black enveloping judge’s robe.
Because they weren’t in court. Because it was a Saturday and they were in the bowels of the pit and I sure didn’t expect to see—“Judge Harper?”
He smiled at her, but then flashed a worried glance Jude’s way. “Ah, I…didn’t realize you were back with us.”
She stepped forward. “I’m not. Just finishing up some old business.” True enough.
Judge Lance Harper. The judge with a reputation for playing with the ladies. The judge with three ex-wives. The judge with the giant house on Blakely Road.
The judge who’d let Donald Trent walk.
He was the judge she and a half dozen cops suspected was on the take. Because Harper let too many criminals walk from his court.
Too many bastards like Trent.
His handsome face turned solemn. “If you’re reviewing your files, then you know about…Sylvia.”
Her eyes narrowed. What was that? Regret? Did the guy feel guilty about what had happened?
She sure did. “Yes, I know.”
“Pity.” He sounded like he meant it. Where had his pity been when he’d let Trent walk? “I remember she had those two boys…”