Jace scowled. “You didn’t give me time to ask.”

“If I had, would you?”

Jace stayed silent.

“Well, if he isn’t going to ask, then I will. Are you all right?” David placed a hand on her shoulder.

She shied away from his touch. “Yeah, I’m fine. Who the hell are you?”

“I’m David.”

She nodded. “Francesca.”

David stuck out his hand. “Nice to mee—”

“Look,” Jace interrupted, “usually I’m all for warm and fuzzy introductions, but can we please get the hell out of here before those two assholes wake up, or Trent decides to be a hero and comes waltzing back in here?”

David zipped up his leather motorcycle jacket, no doubt preparing to hop on his Harley Superglide. “We can’t go back to my place, so I’m going to split. I can’t take the chance of hanging around you, J. I’ve gotta save my own ass and I’ve already screwed myself over by fighting on your side. If you need anything, call.” He clapped Jace on the back before he jogged down the stairs.

Jace and Francesca stood alone in the silent hall. He cleared his throat and padded back toward his apartment. “I need more weapons.”

The door stood open and would clearly never close again, and the crooked six had toppled to the floor in the midst of the chaos. He kicked the rusted numeral across the hardwood and stepped over his fellow hunters. He thought about giving Damon another good blow to the face with the heel of his boot, but he could save that revenge for another time.

He pulled out the chain around his neck and chose the key to his weapons closet. The latch clicked when he turned the handle, and the door swung open. He unloaded the rest of his artillery—every standard handheld on the market, short of an Uzi. He’d had one on order, but the delivery had fallen through at the last minute.

Francesca walked into the bedroom behind him, already wearing a set of clothes from the backpack she’d brought. She leaned up against the wall and sighed. “What now?”

He packed the rest of the weapons into a large black duffel bag and locked up the closet. “If there’s been a double killing, I need to check this out.” He thought of the face of the man in the photo—Alejandro or whatever the hell his name was. “You can do what you want. I won’t keep you any longer. I’ve got bigger prey to kill.” He tried to tell himself that if anything happened to her he wouldn’t give a shit, but his gut said otherwise. Damn it, she wasn’t his responsibility.

She shook her head. “If you’re going to try and kick me out at this point, you’re nuts. How can I go to my pack knowing what I do now and tell them I haven’t done anything about it?”

“Why take it on by yourself? Leave the work to someone else.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “It’s my responsibility, and I’m going with you. Besides, you need backup.”

He didn’t need backup and he’d never had any before, but he wasn’t going to even bother pointing that out. He walked out of the bedroom, and she followed behind him.

“Where are we going?” She stepped over Damon’s bloody body as if he were a nasty stain on the carpet.

Jace waited until they were out of the apartment and on the stairs. The last thing he needed was for a seemingly unconscious Damon or Ash to hear where they were going. “We’ll have to get a motel room. Somewhere they wouldn’t expect me to go.”

“That sounds like the worst pickup line ever.”

He smirked. “If I wanted to pick you up, I wouldn’t even have to use a line.”

“Are you calling me easy?” She titled her head to the side in annoyance.

“Most women I sleep with are easy. But you, no.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t blame you if you thought that. I did sleep with you the first night I met you. And as much as I’d like to use it as one, being in the midst of my mating cycle isn’t an excuse.”

“Do you need an excuse to justify what we did? We’re consenting adults, so why not have a little fun?” He glanced over his shoulder and saw the caramel skin of her cheeks flush.

* * *

FRANKIE TRIED TO concentrate on anything other than the throbbing feeling in the back of her skull as they climbed into Jace’s H3 in silence. Pain throbbed throughout her body. She needed to shift. Her human wounds would heal faster if she were in wolf form.

They continued driving even once they’d passed the majority of the cheap motels he’d said they would be looking for and reached the nicer part of the city. Frankie leaned back against the headrest, and her eyes flickered closed. A large hand gripped her shoulder and squeezed hard enough to jerk her awake.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep! You hit your head. I don’t want you going into a damn coma.”

Frankie focused past the blur of exhaustion. She had to try several times to make sure what she was seeing was real. Jace had pulled the car into the parking lot of the Imperial Hotel. The brightness of the lights beamed down on her, and she drank in the opulence like a ravenous animal. Beds. This place would have soft, warm beds.

Jace stopped the car and stepped out. She hopped out, too, and took her backpack off the floorboard. With this much beauty surrounding her, she looked like a peasant in her scruffy clothes, not to mention her wounds and bruises. Jace opened the hatch and grabbed his duffel before he threw his keys to a nearby valet.

He pointed two fingers from his eyes to the young employee. “I don’t care if the back window is already cracked—scratch this baby and you’re dead.”

The valet nodded, as if he often received death threats from random guests. Maybe there were a lot of uptight car owners in this part of the city.

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll take good care of it,” the valet said.

Jace gave the guy a pointed look, but he must have been satisfied, since he turned and walked toward the entrance. She hurried after him.

With the marble flooring and the crisp clean atmosphere, the hotel was absolutely stunning. Jace strode right up to the front desk clerk and dropped his duffel bag on the ground, then pulled a thick wad of bills from inside his coat pocket. Frankie choked back a laugh at the contrast between his rough and tough appearance and the postmodern decor. The clerk’s eyes widened as she eyed Jace up and down. Her attention jumped between Jace and the bills, then she took more time with his face and his clothes. Frankie wasn’t sure whether the visual examination was prompted by Jace’s rugged appearance or his divinely handsome face.

He slapped the wad of bills on the countertop. “We need a room. Give me the nicest one you’ve got.”

The clerk blinked several times, interrupted in her examination of Jace. “Excuse me?”

He sighed, then leaned forward on the counter and overly articulated each word. “Give me the best room you have.”

The woman just stood there.

Frankie stepped up to the counter and nudged him aside. “I think what he’s trying to say is, could you please tell us the best room you have available at this time?” She flashed the girl a sweet smile, careful not to show off her sharp, protruding canines.

The clerk shook her head a little to wake herself up before she turned to her computer. The click of her fingernails against the keyboard combated the canned piano music playing in the background.

Finally the woman cleared her throat. “Besides the penthouse, the top room we have available is the Town—”

“We’ll take it.”

“All right, the Townsend suite—”

“No, the penthouse.”

The clerk’s mouth fell open just a little, and Frankie whirled around. “What?”

Jace ignored her and shoved the money across the counter. “You heard me. The penthouse. I want the key in less than two minutes.” He glanced up at the clock. “Starting...now.”

The woman grabbed the phone and punched in a string of numbers while mumbling under her breath. Jace flung an ID over the counter—probably a fake one—and continued his countdown.

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