“It doesn’t mean that she won’t,” Tanner broke in, saying the words he knew he was supposed to say. He had to at least act like he was after her, for those uniforms and brass who were watching. “She’ll find the evidence, and it will be the final nail in your coffin, baby.”
A faint furrow appeared between Marna’s pale brows. Tanner’s hands fisted. Hell, had he just called her baby again? He’d have to watch that.
“There will be nowhere for you to go,” Tanner continued as he tried to force his body to relax. The beast inside wanted out. “Your face will be splashed across every paper in the area. Broadcast on every TV. People will find out just exactly what you are.” Because of those witnesses. The ones who’d already been too eager to share with reporters. For the right price, everyone would talk in this town.
Marna’s hands lifted and flattened on the table. Her head inclined toward the photos. Death hadn’t been kind to the shifters. No wounds were on their bodies, but their faces were frozen in masks of terror. “Those men . . .” She spoke slowly. “They deserved what they got.”
He really wanted to put his hand over the woman’s mouth.
Jonathan rocked forward, way too eager. “So you admit that you killed them?”
“I admit . . .” Her gaze lingered on the photos and then rose slowly. Not to look at Jonathan, but to lock on Tanner. “I admit that they were murdering bastards who enjoyed hurting other people. They were due some punishment.”
She was not helping the situation.
Jonathan nodded his head. “And you were just the one to punish them, weren’t you?”
Did her lips tremble? Her shoulders hunched. In that moment, she looked even more vulnerable than usual. What the hell? Was she playing some game with them?
Jonathan’s hand slapped on the table. “Weren’t you?”
She jumped. No game. Marna was afraid.
“Listen, you—” Jonathan began.
E-fucking-nough. Tanner’s hand closed around the guy’s shoulder as he surged forward. “Ease up.” His hard grip said now.
Jonathan whirled to face him. Both of the guy’s brows were up. “Come again?”
Screw this. “We’re taking a break.” Because he wasn’t sure what would happen if Jonathan kept badgering Marna. A big reveal to the human about all the paranormal creatures running through the city wasn’t an option.
The legs of Jonathan’s chair groaned as he shoved away from the table. The guy stalked out of the room, not glancing back. Oh, yeah, he was pissed. Whatever.
Tanner leaned across the table. He only had an instant to make Marna understand the plan he’d just pulled out of his ass. “When I come back . . .” He barely breathed the words. “Come at me.”
She blinked.
“Come at me,” he told her again, “or that guy’s gonna try to lock you in a cage tonight.”
Then he turned and headed after Jonathan.
The interrogation room door had barely closed before his partner was in his face. “What the hell was that about?” Jonathan demanded, voice rising. “First off, I’m not your errand boy!”
Tanner waited, one brow rising. There’d be more coming. Any time somebody started with a “first” there was always—
“And second, yeah, she’s f**kable, but don’t let your dick lead you to screw up this case! That woman in there—”
A crash sounded from the interrogation room. Tanner stiffened. Showtime.
Jonathan tried to shove him out of the way so he could head back inside. Right. Like that was gonna happen. Tanner shoved back and the guy went tumbling to the floor. Then Tanner threw open the door to that interrogation room.
Marna had tossed the table against the wall. The chairs lay scattered on the ground, and she’d ripped one of the table legs out, and driven it right through the two-way mirror.
Should have been impossible. Those mirrors weren’t made to shatter, but she’d managed to break through it.
Probably because the lady was using some of that amped-up angel strength of hers, and if he didn’t watch it, she’d be fleeing right out through that second room—now that she’d made herself a little escape path—and racing head-on into a bullpen full of cops.
“Marna . . .”
She spun back around with the table leg held up, club-like, in her clenched hands.
“Guess she’s stronger than she looks,” Jonathan said from behind him.
Couldn’t that guy ever get off his back?