Jack, page 18
part #2 of Hunted Shifters Legacy Series
Kit closed her eyes, torn between a deep satisfaction and the loss of something she didn’t even experience.
* * *
They finished washing up and climbed into bed after, not saying a word about the claw or anything else. She fell right into sleep, the emptiness of it sprinkled with nightmares: someone running to get her, and her feet unable to carry her away fast enough. No one coming to help despite her screams, the endless feeling that she was being watched from all corners.
Dean, as dead as the last three strangers. No one had come to help him, either.
She woke up abruptly, the scream ready to rip out of her throat. But the pain in her chest was stronger, and the scream shifted into a sob. She tried to muffle it against the closest pillow, hugging it tightly. The scent of Jack surrounded her, but he wasn’t in bed.
Kit stayed there for a while, crying her eyes out and grieving the loss of a person who shouldn’t be dead—an ex she didn’t particularly like but didn’t hate enough to wish him this demise. After a while, she felt the bed dip and hands reaching to her, which had her cheeks heating up and her hands attempting to signal that she was alright.
“Your work—”
“Stuck,” was all he said before he wrapped her in his arms. It brought an immediate comfort as his fingers stroked her head, letting her cry on him instead. The warmth of his bare chest fought off the coldness she was feeling inside her, and she crumbled in surrender to it.
“Stuck?” she asked in between tears.
“Yes.” Frustration tinged his tone, but so did a quiet gentleness. “I’ve been going mad trying to think, trying to connect the dots. I’ve been trying to look at it from every angle, but I’m still in the same spot. I think I need a break.”
“I think you do,” she agreed, kissing his chest. He kissed the top of her head, then sighed wearily when she started caressing his back in soothing, circular motions. “You haven’t slept. Sleep. You can think more about it tomorrow when you’ve gotten rest.”
“Hmm.” With a singular movement, he yanked the covers over their bodies, cocooning them. “I’m sorry, Kitty.”
“It's not your fault, Jack.”
“I know.”
No more words followed after that, and she soon drifted back to slumber. The nightmares returned. But every time she woke up in a panic over it, she sensed Jack beside her and felt safe enough to return to sleep.
When Kit next woke up, it was daylight, and his spot on the bed was empty again. She drifted in and out of consciousness before finally stretching up, then wandering outside to look for food and Jack. She found the latter in his workspace, bent over some lab equipment.
As if sensing her presence, he looked up and paused. She gave him a wave, indicating she was fine and to keep doing what he was doing. She stayed still as he eyed her for a bit, the study finally ending with a short nod before he returned to his work.
Quietly, she backed away from the workspace, a plan already building in her mind. She ate a banana, braided her hair tight until all of the strands were off her face. When all of the nerves and questions were gone, she went back to the guest bedroom and rummaged through her drawers, finally finding the last piece of earpod device that she was still in the process of upgrading. It was nearly done, the enhancements perfect.
With a deep inhale, then a resolute exhale, Kit began taking the earpod apart.
Chapter 24
“You’re too late. He's out of Queens and won’t be back for a few days. He said he’ll keep you posted.”
Irritation flared inside Jack, an incessant beat at the knowledge that no, Killian wasn’t going to keep him posted—much like the man hadn’t kept him posted for three trips now, making it difficult to align what he and the detective had covered or not. Jack didn’t exactly glare at the man’s assistant, who was cowering at her desk as it was. Perhaps his reputation had reached the young woman.
But Jack did give her a pointed look.
“I can’t reach him via phone; that’s why I came here. Tell him to contact me as soon as he can.”
He left Killian’s private office, located in a fancy apartment building similar to Jack’s but with more flair. A lot of investigators were nice and all, but there were also a lot who were like Killian—keeping things away from Jack, probably to avoid sharing the discovery of whatever they were investigating. Eager to prove themselves without help. He could never figure it out, as work only had one goal for him: to get to the bottom of one case before he moved on to the next, and to cooperate with whoever he could so long as his half-shifter status wasn’t compromised.
Making the world crime-free wasn’t supposed to involve ego, and he was going to make sure Killian was well aware of that. Eventually.
With nothing to do about it now, Jack drove back to his apartment, officially calling the workday done. He’d rounded up all the people Kit was often surrounded with, questioning them one-by-one until they were well winded. He had all the records and files he needed on hand, and now he just needed to re-study them and make sure he didn’t miss anything. But that could wait too, after dinner.
After he checked in on Kit.
She was in his workspace when he came in, looking up to greet him distractedly before she returned her attention to her spot on the floor. Items surrounded her: pins, wires, screws, and other things he couldn’t identify. She had the earpod in her hand, but it didn’t look like the one she gave him anymore. Jack wondered what upgrade she was working on now before he decided to leave her be.
Dinner consisted of throwing together whatever was in the fridge, and he ate fast before he settled on the couch. There, he placed his notes side by side, eyeing the important details.
Dennis, Aidan, and Lydia all had alibis, along with the other co-workers he’d managed to track down in the radio station. Hell, even that punk stalker Adam Jones had one, which pretty much dismissed them from involvement in Dean’s murder. They were down to the radio station boss, currently residing in Manhattan.
Was Killian in Manhattan? Was he somewhere else? What the hell was the younger man not sharing?
Thinking about it drove him crazy, and his temper was short by the time he finished re-examining everything. Deciding to take a break, he returned to the workspace, studying Kit’s gadget before he sat on the floor beside her.
“Have you even eaten?”
A flash of a smile, though her brows were furrowed. She was twisting some knob, locking some metal and glass pieces in place. Behind her, her frequency device was tuned in to Queens, and squawking cop car radios interrupted the blessed silence now and then.
Metal and glass touched, seemingly fitting each other. She sat back and finally sighed.
“Yes, I’ve eaten. And no, I don’t have cramps. And no, I don’t have work today. My boss decided to give me a week off, since Michelle’s back.”
Jack kept studying her. “Any chance I can get your boss' phone number…?”
“He didn’t do it,” was her fast response, lifting her chin as she met his gaze. “He couldn’t have killed those people, Jack.”
“But he could’ve hacked that camera.”
“He wouldn’t hack his own security camera. And you said they were connected.”
“They could be. Or they could be coincidences between a stalker and a murderer. I’m still trying to figure it out.”
“Then don’t question my boss until you do. You’re going to get me fired, and I like my job.”
Her tone was light, but there was an underlying tension there. He opened his mouth to ask, but something told him whatever this was, it was going to blow up right now if he did. Instead, Jack leaned closer, wanting to take a different approach.
“Perhaps you’d like to go out. Get dinner, do our disguise again.”
Without even glancing his way, Kit shook her head. “Can’t. I’m busy.”
A pause. “Did someone’s earpod break?”
“No.”
“Then that can wait.”
“It can’t.”
“Kitty…”
“I’m busy, Jack,” she repeated, an edge to her tone this time. “Please. Please give me space. You don’t need to know everything.”
The words had him reeling back, even while he understood the sentiment behind it. She was right, of course—except the Kit he knew had been so open with him, especially the last few weeks.
God, especially the last few days, as they'd opened up beyond the sharing of skin and pleasure. Now, after Dean’s murder, the apartment was filled with silence and an ominous feeling. The old Jack would’ve demanded, perhaps even bullied her into raging out. Even crying was better than this.
“Alright,” he finally said, standing up. When she still didn’t look up, he backed out of the workspace and went back to the couch, where he decided to camp for the night.
He would give her the space she needed.
Then he would confront this when it was time.
* * *
Two days later, a break in the case interrupted the silence and tension in the apartment—namely, blood found in one of Kit’s neighbor’s rented units, matching Dean’s DNA. He wasn’t surprised when he learned that the neighbor was Dennis Supra, Dean’s old partner, and he wasn’t fazed when the older man threatened to sue again. But the warrant served Jack well, allowing him to do three things efficiently: search the law office, bring Dennis to the police station for interrogation, and inform Killian’s secretary that Killian was needed fast. The first and second resulted in nothing, while the third had Killian frantically leaving a voicemail to Jack that he’d handle it from there.
Of course, Jack ignored it, having already determined one thing: that Dennis was innocent, and someone was framing him.
With this information in hand, Jack started rewatching the CCTV footage they’d found for the apartment building hallway, as all the ones at Kit’s garage area had already been ransacked. The same old tenants came and went, along with a couple of strangers: visitors of the neighbors, clients of the law office. No one suspicious, but…
Driving back to the police station, he dialed a number on his phone.
“Hey, Jack.”
Kit’s voice was tired, worrying him enough to consider for a second. “Hey. How are you doing?”
“Very good,” she said. And she meant it because he heard some sort of triumph in her tone. “If you’re calling to check up on me—”
“Actually, I’m calling to ask you for a favor.”
“Oh. What is it?”
“I’m planning to install a security camera in your old apartment building’s hallway and Dennis’ office, and it’s going to be the face tracer and sound recorder. I was hoping you could enhance it.”
“Enhance it how?”
“Connect it to your device, see if it can match the voices you hear in your frequency real-time.”
There was a pause, and he could practically hear her gears turning.
“I think I can do that,” she said slowly.
“I’ll pay you for your services, of course—”
“There’s no need,” she cut off. “I’m your friend. I’ll do this favor for you…for Dennis. We don’t want any more people dead.”
The friend comment took him aback, but he decided to take it in stride.
“Thank you, Kit.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll send it to you when it’s ready.”
Now that really took him aback.
“Send?”
There was a heavy pause, followed by a clearing of throat. “I’ve moved out of the apartment, Jack. I hope you don’t mind. I’ve taken all my stuff with me—at least, the important things for now.”
It was such a shock to the system that he felt himself reeling. The car swerved, and he had to ease it one-handed to the side of the road and hit the hazard parking button.
“Where did you go?”
“I got a new place,” she chirped now. Like she was happy.
“Right. So you got all your stuff out since…” Jack glanced at his car’s digital clock, wondering what time he'd left the apartment. He stared. Then he blinked before he rubbed his hand over his face. “I’ve been gone four days.”
“Yes. You’ve been gone four days, busy with the case. And I realized I should be busy with my life, too, and not relying on you so much.”
The words were said with a positive note, and it told him she thought this was the best decision there was.
“Where are you?”
“Somewhere safe,” she said firmly. “And I have everything that I need right now, so I don’t need to keep going out. I don’t need you to protect me, Jack. We both should be doing our thing.”
This was wrong; his whole body screamed at him, even while his brain told him it made sense. This would make her focus. Him, too. He opened his mouth anyway, the protest already tumbling over each other in his throat.
Yet something else came out, as if from some foreign voice inside him.
“You’re right. It’s for the best.”
Silence filled the other line, followed by a sigh. “I knew you’d see reason. I’d still contact you, anyway, if there’s some break in the usual things I monitor. You’ll be the first to know.”
“Are you still working on your enhancements?”
“Oh, yes. I’m nearly done. Now I can really focus. So can you.”
He nodded stiffly, then realized she couldn’t see him. He cleared his throat. “You’re right.”
Jack agreed to every word she said after, then finally hung up the phone on an upbeat note—at least, she sounded upbeat on her end, as if she were excited at the prospect of living alone again. He stared unseeingly at the road, turning the scenario over in his mind. Logic dictated she was going to be okay, especially since she wasn’t due to the radio station until next week. This was for the best. She could do her thing. He could do his thing. They hadn’t promised each other anything other than his vow to protect her, and he still would be finding the killer. No strings attached, and no one would get hurt.
So why did his chest feel so hollow?
* * *
A few days later, he finally could take a break that allowed him to go home and get some sleep, Jack realized why his chest was so hollow. That hollowness took his breath away and one he felt in his very bones as he sat up in bed. The sheets hadn’t been changed in a week, as crisp and clean as ever.
It smelled faintly of her, too, and it brought such a sharp ache that he almost called her and asked her to come back. Almost.
He didn’t, because he knew she’d already moved on. He also knew she needed this freedom because being with him probably made her feel the intensity of his work too much, too fast.
And maybe she just didn’t want it.
Another whiff of her scent, and his hand fisted on the sheets. Annoyed with himself, he got out of bed and started removing them one by one, putting on fresh ones. Then he went to the guest bedroom to do the same, only he was hit by more of her scent and had to stop by the door to steady himself.
Goddamn it. He was a grown man. There had been no relationship.
It had been a clean breakup, if it was even that.
Gritting his teeth, Jack did what he needed to do, even spraying some air refresher to make sure everything smelled new. Done with his task, he took all the old items to the laundry basket before finally crashing into his bed, which had now lost her scent.
The empty feeling only grew, but he closed his eyes and slept. He slept for hours on end, letting himself recharge and make up for all the hours he'd skipped it. When he woke up and took a shower, Jack was greeted by two things: a better feeling than last night, every cell in his body recharged and mind raring to analyze cases again.
And a package at the apartment building’s front desk.
Jack wandered down, curiosity and caution weaving into each other as Charles handed him the box. The caution eased when he saw the address, followed by a small scribble at the bottom right: a food list, including his apple cobbler. He bit back a smile and tried to brush off the hollow feeling, taking the package back up and carefully opening it. It was sealed tight, and inside were three nude-colored security cameras so small that one could pin them anywhere without notice. There was also a phone, which was connected to the cameras and would immediately save whatever the cameras picked up.
The note was simple, with instructions that included activating something at the back of the cameras to turn them on. The phone was connected to her frequency device, and it would let him know if something matched. It was perfect.
And the note was as impersonal and cheerful as they came.
Jack studied everything, taking it all in with a sinking feeling.
Then he stood up and decided to start the workday early.
Chapter 25
“What the hell happened to your old place, and why didn’t you tell us anything?”
Hunter’s voice wasn’t mad, but there was a certain tension to it that told Kit the news had taken him aback. Not wanting him to blow up and demand answers, much like Leila had, she tried to put some cheer in her voice.
“I didn’t think it would interfere with work, and it didn’t.” Hurriedly, she told him a short version of the murders, the ransacked apartment, her staying at someone else’s place, and the stalker that led her to believe someone was toying with her. She also emphasized that this someone was going to be waiting in vain. “Besides, it was a very domestic problem, nothing that would jeopardize this clan or my work with you guys. Jack got out what I needed and made sure nothing important was taken by whoever ransacked the place.”
“Jack?”
“Jack. You know Jack. He was the someone I stayed with for a few weeks. But that’s all in the past now. We’re both busy with things, and I decided to stay in my own apartment—a completely new one. It’s a pretty neat one, too, perfect for my needs.”
“And what did he have to say to that? Did he think it was safe?”
