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Chapter 29

H e’s my mate, I have to protect him. Adler couldn’t keep himself from thinking the thought, no matter how inappropriate or brash. And it was difficult to think much else while the three of them were making their way toward room 17, going in single file. Even while they were all sneaking, Adler made himself as big as he could, the instinct to shield Gordon not something he would have changed, even if he could have.

The only good thing about this is, with a hunter like Maxim doing most of the heavy lifting, I don’t have all that much to do and can focus on keeping Gordon safe. Even so, Adler felt the adrenaline build like an itch under his skin with every step they came closer to the room. They walked past room 14, the room lit brightly from within and casting patterns on the concrete, past the room after it, the TV in there too loud. The last room before the one they wanted was dark and quiet.

Once they were at 17, Gordon stayed back and out of the way. Adler liked that. It showed trust, showed Gordon was confident that Adler could handle things. At least that’s how another werewolf would treat this, but he’s just here as a medic, basically. Head in the game, Adler, don’t make a fool of yourself when all you have to do is break down a motel door.

Maxim took up position, one hand hovering over the hilt of a sword. Any and all congeniality had left him, and he stood there, golden-haired, face beautiful as ever, but expression sharp and cold, like ice that still sparkled in the light only so it could lure you into a freezing death.

Adler took a few steps until he was facing the door, braced. It took a certain kind of door to stop a werewolf, and by the looks of it, this wasn’t it.

Maxim, though, didn’t give any sign that he wanted the door taken down just yet, so Adler waited. When he saw Gordon cock his head and take a step closer as if he were listening, Adler could guess why that was.

Our murderer’s talking. Awesome. Wish I had vampire hearing.

Adler heard Pearson only when she spoke up, agitated. “The fucking creatures, you know. Not that I care they offed my parents. Fuck, they deserved it. They wanted to put me away, did you know that? Because they were fucking afraid I wasn’t going to be nice to my sister, that snotty brat. And can you imagine, after all of that Leila goes and gets herself bit by some disgusting vampire?”

Something crashed inside the room. Maxim gave a curt nod, and Adler dashed forward, turning the door into plywood and splinters.

Everything after happened within moments because one single, angry human had nothing that would have slowed down Maxim. When his blurring vampire speed coalesced, Adler could just about take in the room, their killer.

Maxim yanked the woman’s hair, forcing her to turn even as she opened her mouth to scream and raised her arm to jab something at him, a syringe.

“Stop.” Maxim’s voice was bolstered by the force of his compulsion unleashed on Pearson. She froze, and he whisked the syringe from her fingers, tossed it onto a cheap-looking nightstand. “You’re not going to be doing anything else with that.”

With the most evident danger taken care of, Adler looked around. Takeout on the small table, a brochure. A knife too, and a crowbar. On the bed, half hidden behind Maxim’s frame and the now still Pearson, Adler could see Dr. Jackson. Glass shards were scattered around her on the flimsy comforter, a shattered water glass broken in rage perhaps.

Adler nearly froze when he smelled roses, much too close for his comfort.

“Can I come in there?” Gordon asked.

Adler wanted to tell him no and block him, maybe not his finest moment, but Gordon was his mate, whether they had yet discussed this or not, and Adler would die before he allowed Gordon anywhere near danger.

Maxim looked over his shoulder. “Yes, it’s clear, Gordon. Come check on Dr. Jackson, please.”

Maxim had a hold of Pearson and moved her out of the way. She struggled though, and that was rare. She should barely know she’s being compelled, especially by someone as powerful as Maxim.

Gordon shouldered his way past Adler, something Adler only allowed because Maxim, the functional alpha in this situation, had invited it.

Gordon looked around only briefly, kneeling on the small motel bed to feel for a pulse.

Adler jerked. “Sweetheart, there’s glass on the bed.”

“I saw, it’s fine. Dr. Jackson? Dr. Jackson, come on, open your eyes. Yes, just like that.” Gordon turned to Adler. “Call an ambulance. Tell them”—he looked around, zeroed in on a vial that sat on the other nightstand, and grabbed that. “Tell them she was injected with Buprenorphine but appears otherwise stable. Breathing’s fine. Tell them to hurry anyway.”

Adler did exactly that, stepping outside—not moving so far away that he couldn’t see that head of teal-colored hair. The call went through blessedly quickly. “Dispatch, this is Detective Adler, homicide, on scene. Send an ambulance for one human, drugged with Burr—”

“Buprenorphine,” Gordon said, enunciating for someone who didn’t speak medical jargon.

Adler repeated it to the officer on the other end. “We have a doctor here watching her breathing, but he says to hurry all the same.”

“Confirming that. Ambulance is on its way. Will you be needing backup, detective?”

“Yes, your colleagues can take her,” Maxim said from inside the room, voice frosty. It was followed by the sharp noise of zip ties being fastened.

“Yes, send a car. We have a perpetrator here, detained by a Forum hunter. She’s human.”

“Roger. They’re a few minutes out.”

“Thanks.” He hung up, went back into the room. It said a lot about the speed and lack of commotion that none of the residents had left their room to check out what was happening. Adler was glad. He didn’t want to do crowd control out here where Gordon wasn’t.

Maxim pushed Pearson into a chair. Sweat was beading on her forehead and her jaw and neck muscles were bulging with tension.

Without a single conscious thought, Adler reached out to settle his hand on Gordon’s shoulder. Support and strength, if you want that, sweetheart.

“How can she do that?” Adler asked Maxim.

The hunter tsked. “It happens with those leaning anti-social. Though perhaps there is training involved here.” The hunter was taking photos of everything, then shuffled through a small planner on the table and that brochure Adler had seen, went through a plastic bag that sat on another chair.

“Everything is going to be fine, Dr. Jackson. Adler just called an ambulance for you, and you are safe now. It’ll be fine. I’ll come visit you in the hospital. They’ll probably want to keep you overnight. Your heart rate and breathing are still good. Keep that up. I can hear the sirens now.”

In the distance, Adler could too, just a few seconds later. Only then did he allow himself to look at Pearson, angry at the world, angry at the people she didn’t think deserved to live.

Pearson had brown hair, brown eyes, and she was tall. So unremarkable. I bet that’s what her victims thought.

Maxim followed his line of sight. “This isn’t like the Ripper’s murders. She will be made accountable.”

Gordon grumbled. “Fuck her. Can we focus on Dr. Jackson, please?”

Adler couldn’t agree more. He squeezed Gordon’s shoulder. “Ambulance’s here. I’ll let them know where we are.”

He went outside to direct the EMTs to the room, ignoring Maxim, who was beaming and giving him a double-thumbs-up. Why do vampires get so fucking weird with age?