“The article didn’t mention anything about his pants being down.”

“Then maybe you should check your facts with your contact at the police first before accusing me of being a cold-blooded murderer.”

Because of Samson’s friendship with the mayor, who was a hybrid—half-vampire, half-human—he had a direct line to the police department, a fact that came in handy on occasion. Maybe Samson should have used his contacts before he’d gone to town on him.

Zane straightened and turned toward the door.

“Oh, we’re not done,” Samson said calmly.

Zane raised an eyebrow as he spun around to face him.

“The fact remains that you slaughtered a man and left his body for anybody to find. It goes against everything Scanguards stands for.”

As Samson paused, a nauseating feeling spread in Zane’s gut. Was his boss planning on firing him? Scanguards was his life, his family, his only link to humanity. Without it, he would descend into darkness and give into his most evil desires. He would only live for revenge and nothing else, leading him onto a path that was sure to destroy him. He was smart enough to know that if Scanguards wasn’t there to ground him in reality any longer, he’d lose the last bit of his soul and turn as evil as the men responsible for his transformation into a vampire.

“No …” he choked out, feeling his throat constrict at the thought of losing everything that meant anything to him. The faces of his colleagues and friends flashed before him: the scarred face of Gabriel, Scanguards’ second in command and the man who’d first hired him; Thomas, the gay biker with the IT-Geek brain; Amaury, his linebacker-sized friend whose huge size detracted from the fact that he had the softest heart of any man Zane had ever met, particularly when it came to his blood-bonded mate Nina; and even Yvette, the prissy woman who’d been a pain in the butt until two months ago when she’d found her soul mate, the witch-turned-vampire Haven.

His thoughts wandered further, back to New York and his friend Quinn who was responsible for him still being alive. If Quinn hadn’t pulled him out of the downward spiral he’d been in at the time and introduced him to Gabriel, he would probably be dust by now. He couldn’t give all this up. Those were his friends, the only people he could rely on.

“Sit down,” Samson ordered.

“I’d rather stand.” If Samson was going to fire him, he would take it like a man.

“Suit yourself. I’ll discuss this situation with Gabriel later, but I’m sure we’ll be of the same mind.”

Figured! When didn’t those two agree on something, particularly when it came to the punishment of fellow vampires? Sticklers for rules, both of them! Fuck, he was a vampire, not some idiot human. He had his own rules.

“In the meantime,” Samson went on, “I’m pulling you off your assignment and revoking your class A status.”

Zane clenched his jaw shut. Having Scanguards’ highest clearance revoked meant being ineligible for any dangerous or high-importance assignments. It meant being relegated to routine duties. Samson might as well have chopped his hands off.

“You can’t …” He was no fucking rent-a-cop with a beer belly and a bad haircut sitting in the lobby of a deserted building all night, guarding empty offices.

Samson held up his hand. “Before you say anything you might regret later, I’d like you to listen.”

Zane snorted. Regret wasn’t part of his vocabulary. Neither was remorse.

“I can’t risk having a loose cannon on my staff. Until we’ve figured out how to mitigate the risk you represent, you’ll work in low-risk and low-stress areas. You’ll have my final decision in two days.”

Zane nodded stiffly. “Fine,” he pressed out, barely parting his lips so he wouldn’t bare the fangs that had descended the moment the rage had started to grip him.

Low-risk! Low-stress!

What the fuck was Samson insinuating? That he was having a nervous breakdown? Those were for fucking sissies, not for men like him! He’d shove a nervous breakdown up their asses if they gave him any more shit about this.

Zane left Samson’s study and resisted the urge to slam the door. His long legs ate up the distance as he hurried along the dark, wood-paneled corridor that led to the foyer. He couldn’t wait to get out of the Victorian home that suddenly felt oppressive. He needed to smash something.

“Low-stress!” he cursed under his breath.

“Evening, Zane!” Delilah’s calm voice came from his left.

He whipped his head toward her and watched her walk down the broad mahogany staircase, her infant daughter cradled in her arms.