mouth.
She glanced away and pulled her hand back. Her cheeks flushed red. “Sorry. I—”
He grabbed her wrist until she looked him in the eye. “Don’t stop.”
Even after he released her, she fought to keep her breathing even. Lowering her gaze, she tried to think of something to break the silent tension. Anything.
She steadied her trembling hand as she tried to soothe his wound again.
“So who were those guys?” she asked, glad to have come up with a logical change in subject. “I know they were hunters, but why were they hunting one of their own?” Then again, he hunted his own kind, too, even though he wouldn’t admit it.
“The other members of the Rochester division of the Execution Underground.”
Frankie raised a brow. “The Execution what?”
“The Execution Underground. It’s an international network of supernatural hunters. The men you saw tonight are the rest of the Rochester, New York, division.”
She frowned. “You’re telling me there are hunters around the globe out to kill my people?”
“Not just werewolves, other supernaturals, too. But for the most part, if they keep a low profile, they go undetected. We usually don’t go searching for them unless they’re causing problems or they’re inherently evil, like demons.”
“You’re like the freaking supernatural police.”
Jace shook his head, putting down the compress. “More like dirty cops. Not every hunter is a good guy.”
She drew a deep breath. “Like Mr. Ice.”
“Who?”
“The one you stabbed and beat the crap out of. I heard you call him Damon, but his eyes...they look like ice, they’re so cold.”
“True.” He nodded. “Well, ‘Mr. Ice’ is the head of our division. He thinks he’s tough shit because he slays vamps. You’ve gotta be more than a good shot to take down a bloodsucker, so he thinks he’s got all the right moves. He’s not dirty. He’s just a miserable person, though none of us know why.”
Frankie pitched the half-melted ice cube into the trash can near the dresser. “Why does he want to kill you?”
Jace shrugged. “The killings have been going on sporadically for a few weeks now, and since I haven’t bagged the guy yet, Damon’s got it in his thick skull that I’m somehow not doing my job. Now that he knows I’m a half-breed and with the whole name-carving shit, he thinks I’m involved. Just gives him all the more reason to get rid of me.”
“What sort of grudge does he have against you?”
Jace grinned ruefully. “From day one, I’ve refused to put up with his bull. That’s why he’s got it in for me.”
She sat down near his feet. “And now that he’s decided you’re a killer, he pretty much hates you.”
“You got it, babe.”
“So all we need to do is find the real killer and you can clear your name, right?”
He shook his head. “No can do. I’m branded for life with this wolf stuff. I always knew that asshole would come back and haunt me.”
“Asshole?” Frankie stared at him with wide eyes.
“My old man.”
“He’s dead? I’m sorry to hear that—I guess.”
“Hell no. I have no clue where he is, and I haven’t since I was sixteen. And if he’s dead, I’m sure as hell not sorry. Good riddance.” He grabbed a gun and some bullets from his duffel bag.
“Oh.” A constricting feeling plagued Frankie’s chest as she stared into his face. She could see the pain behind his eyes.
He loaded the shells. “He just up and left one day. Hung us out to dry.”
She remembered what it had been like when her parents died, how abandoned she’d felt even though it certainly hadn’t been their choice. She imagined that knowing his father had chosen to leave made that pain even worse. “You must have been devastated.”
“My mom was. I was sad for her sake, but mostly I was glad he was out of our lives.” He locked the gun’s barrel into place before he laid the fully loaded weapon at his side.
“You didn’t get along?”
Jace laughed. “Sure, we got along—when he wasn’t beating me up or smacking my mom around.”
Frankie’s stomach flipped. “That’s horrible. I really don’t know what to say, Jace. Have you ever talked about it with anyone?”
He reached into his bag and dug around. “I don’t need a shrink.”
“I didn’t say you did. I meant anyone. A friend. That’s the sort of thing that you need to get off your chest.”
He shot her a glare. “There’s nothing on my chest.”
She put her hands up in surrender, unwilling to push the subject. “If you say so.” She leaned her weight back on her arms and winced. A sharp pain tore through her collarbone.
“Shit. Trent got you with his silver chain, didn’t he?”
Her hand trailed up to the top of her shirt. She pulled down the material to show her maimed collarbone. Since the fight, the blood had clotted into flaky bits, but the few places that were still raw burned at the touch of her blouse.
“Let me get something for you.”
She held up her hand to stop him. “No, it’s okay. You’re worse off than me. Just take care of your eye.”
“Do you really think I’m going to sit here and baby myself when you have second-degree burns? I may seem like an ass sometimes, but I’m not
“I don’t think you seem like an ass. Or a jerk.”
He glanced over his shoulder and eyed her for a long moment. “Thanks.” He grabbed his flask off the counter and strolled back into the room, bypassing the bed. He sat down on the floor in front of her, their knees almost touching.
Before she could protest, he wrapped his arms around her and scooped her into his lap. All of her senses snapped to attention and her mind went rigid—but her body had other plans. It melted into him, all her muscles relaxed.
A small smile crept over his face, and she suddenly wanted to hide in any available space. Anywhere, as long as his smoldering stare couldn’t run over her body and leave her wishing he would undress her with more than his eyes. She glanced down at her hands.
He hooked his index finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She swallowed hard. For such a simple question, it felt oddly intimate rolling off his tongue.
“Nothing.” She forced herself to be realistic. This was going nowhere. He hated her kind.
“I know from dealing with my mother that ‘nothing’ always means ‘something.’ When my dad would come home drunk and rough her up, every time I’d ask her how she was, she’d always say nothing was wrong.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she folded into herself. “I guess I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s a better answer, though I wish you would.”
“I wish
A moment of silence passed between them, a suffocating lull.
Frankie sighed. “I’m thinking about what my actions will result in when I return to my pack.”
“I’m sure they’ll be glad that you’re back. By now they’re bound to have realized you’re missing, and can they really punish you for being taken captive?”
She shook her head. “It’s not that simple.”
He stared at her, waiting for elaboration.
She let out another long sigh. “I’m in a position of power, an especially high position for a female.”
