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Zane’s shoulders straightened a bit. “I pulled her out of the flames.” That good deed had to be worth something, right? No matter what most folks thought, he didn’t spend his whole life telling the world to screw off.
“Where is she?” Pak’s fingers drummed on the desktop. There was a skeletal staff in the Night Watch office then. Most of the bounty hunters were out on cases. Dragging in prey.
Pity. This time, Zane wouldn’t have any prey to bring in. “The EMTs took her to the hospital,” he told Pak. “She’d sucked in a lot of smoke, and that jerk-off Jacobson bit her.”
“Any other injuries?” Pak’s dark gaze was steady.
“Uh, no. None that I saw.” He hadn’t smelled blood on her, but the smoke had been clogging his nose. He didn’t think the woman had been hurt. But she’d trembled against him.
Desire? Fear? Or pain?
“What did she look like?”
Zane blinked at that. “Ah…pretty. About five-foot-four, curvy, black hair, blue eyes?—”
“Could have changed her appearance,” Pak murmured and his fingers stopped tapping.
And Zane got a really bad feeling in his gut. “Uh, excuse me?”
Pak’s black brows shot up. “Did I ever tell you I thought you handled yourself damn well when all that shit went down with Dee?”
Dee. Dee Daniels was another bounty hunter in the office. She’d watched his ass—and he’d watched hers—for years. He’d trusted the woman with his life more times than he could count. Then she’d become a vampire.
“I do my job,” Zane said quietly. Just like he’d done his job when Dee changed. He’d protected her and made sure the freaks after her were taken down. “No matter what happens, I do my job.”
Pak rose and walked around the edge of the desk. A ghost of a smile curved his thin lips. “Good. You know the job has to come first.”
What the hell? The job always came first for him. Zane sucked in a sharp breath. “Jacobson’s body wasn’t recovered on the scene. The fire department was still there when I left, digging through the rubble, but?—”
“But you don’t think they’ll find a body? Or what’s left of one?”
“Jacobson was a demon.” Demons and fire always mixed. “The guy was low level, but he should have been strong enough to knock the flames back, at least for a few moments.” A few moments would have been all the guy needed for an escape.
“You want to keep searching for him.”
Hell, yeah. “He’s my collar.”
Pak didn’t blink. That dark stare just weighed Zane.
“Uh, boss?” Pak didn’t usually get all quiet and focused like this unless he was out in the swamps, talking to the gators. The guy was a charmer, a being born with the ability to speak to animals. On the weekends, Pak would spend hours with the twelve- to fourteen-foot gators that loved to snap and feast in those muddy waters.
“I’m going to give Jude the Jacobson case,” Pak said.
“The hell you?—”
“Jude can go back to Francis Street. If Jacobson got away, he’ll catch the guy’s scent.”
Jude Donovan was good at catching scents. But then, Jude was a white tiger shifter, so he’d fucking better be good at sniffing.
Zane locked his muscles. “Jude’s good at tracking, but so am I, and you know I don’t stop until I’ve got my prey.” Especially not if the prey was a demon. He always brought the demons down. Or put them down, depending on the case.
“Jude’s got Jacobson,” Pak said, staring up at him.
Fuck. Every muscle in Zane’s body tightened and his hands clenched.
“Because I need you on something more important,” Pak told him.
“What?”
