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And Jace wasn’t enough of a pushover to play second fiddle to that.
“You want to explain why you walked out of there without so much as a last name?”
Jace shouldn’t have had to explain himself to this dick. Not when any of his other hunters would have done the same. But he would. For his own sake.
If only to get Chet and Headquarters off his back.
“She’s cornered and she’s scared. If I push her, I’m only going to get bit in return.” He resisted the urge to touch his still-healing forearm. Medical had dressed it up for him. But the skin knitting back together itched like mad. She’d torn into him good. “Metaphorically speaking,” he added.
Chet grumbled. “We aren’t paying you to play good cop.”
“You aren’t paying me to play bad cop either.” Jace finally turned toward the other man.
Chet had the look of every puffed up, pencil pusher in middle management who’d ever came before him. Boring. Non-descript. A product of family money. And willing to use his privilege exactly like he’d earned all the benefits that came with that.
Jace cleared his throat. “I’m a hunter. There’s a difference.”
Despite how Francesca had ribbed him about playing good cop, bad cop in the interview, he still believed that. Still felt that as his truth.
Chet scoffed. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Jace’s lips pulled into a thin line. Of course some corporate flunky like Chet, who’d arrived as standard issue post buy-out, would think that. That’s what the new Cronos hires like him were paid to do. Aim for results.
They were numbers guys. Nothing more.
They didn’t give a rat’s ass about humanity, about the protection of damaged communities and families Jace and so many others had founded the organization on. Nor the weight of responsibility that came with that. The oaths they’d all sworn.
In the early days, they’d been their own free agents, out to avenge their families and prove that there was something about humanity that was worth saving, worth the fight. Now it was all laws, treaties, arrest and investigate. No matter who it damaged.
How the hell had they gotten themselves here?
Jace hated it.
“If I push her, she’ll be even less likely to talk. We need information.”
“We need aconfession,” Chet countered.
“Only if she’s culpable.” Jace reached for the file Damon had returned to the top of the cabinet and shoved the now open folder at Chet. “You really think she did that?” He jabbed a finger at one of the crime scene photos, pointing to a particularly gruesome scene. “What evidence points toward her?”
“I’m in agreement with Jace on this,” Damon said from where he leaned between the filing cabinet and the wall. “If Jace found her so close to a fresh scene, she wouldn’t have had time to clean up, nor would she have hung around. She’s not good for it.”
“Not to mention the profile we’ve built is for a thirty-something white man,” Jace said.
Francesca might not have an alibi, but she could be a powerful asset for information for them, and even his division lead could see that.
Jace and Damon didn’t always see eye-to-eye—hell, their relationship was often more contentious than not, but unlike Chet, Damon had earned his place, helped forge this organization. A worthwhile hunter didn’t need to wield power like a weapon against those who were powerless. He used his place to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, the defenseless among humanity. It was a collaboration that didn’t apply to only one species or community. A message sent notforhumanity, but onbehalfof it.
Because there was something good in them. Something worth protecting and saving.
Jace had to believe that.
“You’ve had three weeks. Three weeks and no results,” his region lead spit. “And now you find a wolf at the crime scene and want to let it off the hook?”
The words were so similar to Damon’s warning about HQ, it was eerie. A corporate echo.
“I wasn’t aware catching a rogue wolf serial killer had a standard timeline.” Jace failed to keep the snark from his voice.
Chet’s lip curled. “Shut your mouth now, McCannon.”
