“What happened to his clothes?” one of the officers called out.
Antonio’s hands went to his hips. “This is a crack house—who knows what the drug heads were doing? Maybe they cut
’em off, thinking he was holding out on them.”
The man was fast on his feet, and his explanation sounded like a good cover story to her. Especially since Jude’s clothes were lying in a mangled pile to the right. “Dee,” she called softly, trying to catch the other woman’s attention. Dee worked with Jude. Did that mean she knew about his policy of keeping backup clothing in his vehicle?
“On it,” the woman said immediately and headed back for the stairs. “Uh, Tony, not to tell you how to handle your shit, but with all this Other stuff going on down here, don’t you think you’d better clear the scene?”
He gave a grim nod then ordered, “Bishop and Peters—get over there and see what kind of damage the ass**les did to Donovan. The rest of you— upstairs. Make sure the scene is secured. None of these pricks will be leaving the area until I’m done with them.”
Dee brushed by him.
Antonio snagged her arm. “Next time, could you let me know what I’m walking into?”
“Wasn’t time for that.” One shoulder lifted, fell. “I thought he was dying.” She glanced back at Jude. “He was dying, and I needed the cavalry to get its ass here as fast as possible.” Then she jumped up the steps, hurrying her way to the top, right behind the line of retreating cops.
The EMTs moved toward Jude.
“No, no, I’ll be okay. I don’t need—”
“Stitch him up and then get the hell out of here,” Antonio ordered.
The guy in the front, the one with the name tag reading John Bishop, gulped. “We—we’re gonna need to take him to a hospital.”
“No hospital,” Jude’s growl.
“You heard the man,” Antonio said.
“He could have internal bleeding. Severe blood loss. He could have—”
“Get some thread and get a needle.” Antonio glowered at him. “Stitch up any wound bigger than your hand, and don’t worry about anything else.”
Good advice. The cop obviously knew his Other business. Jude’s internal wounds would already be healing and his body would be compensating for any blood loss. White tigers were amazing healers. If the stories were true, they were almost the fastest of the shifters when it came to wound repair.
The wounds on the surface would take the longest time to heal. Shifters recovered from the inside, out. Mother Nature’s way of taking care of her priorities. Priorities like the heart and lungs and all the internal organs.
“You’re a hell of a fighter, Erin.” His voice was a soft rumble.
The EMTs went to work on him.
She forced a smile and stepped back, knowing she was in the way. “So are you.” If he hadn’t fought so hard, for so long, they never would have made it to him in time.
His gaze bored into hers. Not dull anymore. So very blue.
Jude. He was back. She could almost see the strength pouring into him.
“You had one of the…dreams, didn’t you?”
Erin forced a nod. She’d never forget that vision. Until the day she died, Erin would always remember what it was like to see Jude murdered before her.
She took another step back.
“You weren’t too…late this time.”
No, not this time.
Jude didn’t even wince when Bishop drove a two-inch needle into his shoulder. Probably not necessary, not like he could get an infection, but—
“Thanks for…saving my ass, sweetheart.”
Her lips trembled into a smile. “You’re welcome.” And she slipped in the blood and fell on her ass.
Come nightfall, the demons would be making his delivery.
A bound and beaten tiger shifter—all ready for the kill.
He smiled as he stared into the swamp. Thick trees, lazy moss, muddy water.
When he was finished, he’d toss the body out here and let the alligators take care of Donovan. What was left of him.
The body would never be found. No evidence, no crime.
It’d be for the best that way. The shifter had too many friends. Too many hunters on his side.
Yes, it would be far better for the world if the bastard just vanished, and he would make certain that was exactly what the shifter did.
Erin would be all alone then. She’d think her lover had abandoned her.
All lost and alone—what would she do? Turn to me. He’d take her, of course, but not until she’d paid for bringing the tiger into their lives.
A little pain would be good for their relationship.
An alligator cruised past him, never slowing, never glancing his way.
“Dinner’s coming,” he whispered.
The woman was amazing—and she’d seriously saved his ass.
The EMTs were done. Done jerking on him. Done driving their needles into his flesh.
They’d stitched him up. A good thing because he needed the stitches. Until the healing was finished, the stitches would keep the wounds from worsening. When the skin mended, the stitches would fall away, and he wouldn’t have to worry about leaving a trail of blood behind him when he hunted.
Because, hell, yeah, he was going hunting.
Dee tossed him a pair of jeans. His backup clothes. Jude jerked them on, managing not to wince at the pull from his injuries. Nudity didn’t bother him a bit, but there were humans around, and they expected certain things.
Like clothing.
“Good job,” Tony told the EMTs.
“He needs to be in a hospital.” From Bishop, the chatty one. The other guy hadn’t said a word the whole time he worked.
When he’d first strode from the stairs, Jude had seen the way the fellow eyed the demons on the floor. Too much knowledge had been in his stare.
The guy knew they were in a den, the demon equivalent of a crack house, and he wanted out.
Was he a demon? Could be. Then again, he could be just about anything.
“I’ll make sure he sees a doctor,” Zane said. “Night Watch has a physician on staff.”
Since when? The guy was a world class bullshitter.
The EMTs filed up the stairs. Most of the demons had already been hauled up to the upper level. Other paramedics had come to patch those lucky bastards. Tony had wanted them stitched, then shuttled to the jail, ASAP. The sooner the demons were off the street, the better for the rest of the city.
The door slammed behind the EMTs with a loud, hollow clang.