It had been worth the risk. It just hadn’t played out the way we’d hoped.

I pushed upright. “We have to call PIT in on this. We have no choice now.”

“Agreed.” Jackson’s gaze suddenly narrowed. “You’re injured.”

“It’s only a scratch.”

He snorted. “That so-called scratch is five inches long—I’m gathering he caught you by surprise?”

“To his cost, yes. But I’ve contained the second vamp in the laundry.”

“Then let’s go question her.”

“PIT will undoubtedly lock us out of the investigation once they get here,” I said, leading the way, “so that’s a damn good idea.”

The vamp snarled as we entered, revealing bloody canines. Obviously, she was the one who’d taken Shona’s life. Anger surged through me. I thrust it away, knelt down, wrapped my fingers around her neck, and then shoved her against the wall hard enough to dent the plaster. And she was damn lucky that was all I did. “Who sent you here?”

She swore, though the sound was somewhat strangled because the force of my grip was restricting her windpipe.

“Answer the question,” I growled, “because right now, all that stands between you and incineration is the possibility of information.”

She snorted. “Even a fire witch isn’t capable of that.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.” And it was interesting she called me a fire witch rather than a phoenix. Whoever sent them here either didn’t know the truth, or simply didn’t care to inform them. “Last chance—who sent you here?”

“No one.”

“And that is one rather large lie.” Jackson crossed his arms as he leaned against the door frame. His expression was contemplative despite the waves of heat and anger rolling off him. “We could just burn her. Start with her toes, then maybe take out a leg. That might loosen her tongue a little.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” the woman snapped. “We’re under the protection of—” She cut the rest of the sentence off and clamped her lips shut.

“A little demonstration of our capabilities is definitely in order,” Jackson said. And it’s one, he added silently, that you’d better do. My control isn’t good enough right now, and while burning her might ease the rage a little, it wouldn’t be overly useful.

I glanced at the woman’s left leg and unleashed some fire. Flames shimmered down her jeans and danced across the tips of her shoes. As the smell of burning leather touched the air, the woman began to struggle, fighting my hold even as she flung her leg about in an attempt to smother the flames. Jackson moved past me and planted a rather large boot on her legs, stilling the movements.