Page 52 of Wounded Soul
Jesse closed his eyes as rage burnt hot and bright. He wanted to tear Peter apart with his bare hands.
Very carefully he laid Ian back onto the ground, then leant down and gave him one last kiss.
Jesse stood and slowly turned around. “You murdering bastard.” Ignoring the other two vampires, he whirled on Peter, hands slamming into his chest as he shoved him up against the nearest wall. “I’m going to call the fucking vampire police and tell them what you did.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” Peter grinned, making no effort to get away, and Jesse felt the presence of the other two on either side of him.
He tensed, expecting them to strike any second. “Why? I want them to hunt you down like the monster you are.”
Peter nodded towards his wrist, and when Jesse looked down, it took him a moment to realise what was missing.
“Where’s your tracker?”
“Tucked in my rucksack on its way back to the coven. I sent the other two members of our team back already, told them we’d be right behind them. No one will be any the wiser.”
“How?” They had special keys to take the trackers off and Raph kept them all in his safe. Every removal was recorded along with everything else. “Raph—”
“Has no idea.”
Jesse glanced at the vampires flanking him, both of whom he’d seen with Peter before. “Yours too?” They held up empty wrists.
“So you see, Jesse, the only person they’ll trace back to where Ian died... is you.”
No. No, no, no.
“The boys from the VLCD trust their trackers over anything we have to say. Especially when it’s someone they care about.” Peter pointed at Ian’s body. “He’s DS Jones’ best friend. They won’t believe a word you say.”
Jesse smashed Peter’s head against the wall in frustration and backed away.
“Temper. Temper,” Peter slurred, eyes glazing over.
Jesse ignored him, hands fisting his hair as he tried to think of what to do.
His phone.
His motherfucking phone with Peter’s messages on it.
Trying not to let anything show on his face, Jesse raised his hands, letting Peter go. “Fine. You win. There’s nothing I can do to get you punished for this, so just fuck off and let me deal with it then.”
Peter rubbed the back of his head, already healing, then blinked a few times and eyed Jesse curiously. “Jesse, Jesse... I know you better than you think.” He tapped his chin. Gaze roaming up and down Jesse’s body as though searching for something.
If Jesse had any, he’d be holding his breath right about now.
When Peter’s gaze lingered on Jesse’s coat pocket, his stomach dropped.
“Clever.” He looked proud, as though Jesse almost outsmarting him was somehow his doing. “I’d forgotten about your phone.” Turning his head slightly, he motioned towards Jesse’s pocket. “Michael, relieve Jesse of his phone and Ian’s as well, would you?”
“Don’t do it Michael. He killed Ian, not you.”
Michael shrugged and licked over his fangs. “I wish it had been me.” He took the two paces towards Jesse and reached for his pocket.
As he reached out to take the phone, Jesse reacted on instinct, snatching Michael’s hand and snapping it up and backwards. The bone made a satisfying crack and Michael howled in pain.
Jesse turned to run, knowing his only chance was to get out of the alley and out into the open where the risk of discovery was greater, but Peter and the others would be a lot more cautious in their attacks. He made it two steps before hands gripped his shoulders from behind, and the next moment he was flying through the air straight towards the wall.
His head connected with the brickwork first, scraping away the skin and stunning him momentarily. He fell to the floor in a heap, vision blurring at the edges and a dull ache spreading throughout his skull.
Someone yanked him to his feet, manhandling him until he was shoved face first against the wall.
