That’s just what they needed: a bounty hunter who was also a witch. Not that the witch part was evident anywhere in Haven’s apartment. Zane swept the one-bedroom place with his usual cold efficiency, taking in the many boxes both in the living room as well as the small bedroom. Either the man had just moved in, or he was ready to move out.

Zane wouldn’t let the latter thing happen. He’d nab the asshole before he could get away.

A sigh behind him made him turn. Francine stood in front of the faux fireplace with a framed picture in her hands. Zane approached her and looked over her shoulder.

“What’s that?”

Francine shrieked, a sound spreading a feeling of satisfaction in Zane’s chest. He still had it: he could even sneak up on a witch, and their senses were said to be superior to those of mere humans. And he might as well make it clear to her that he was watching her every second. If she was planning to trick him, he’d be right on her, because there was no way he believed that Francine would betray a fellow witch, particularly not one she seemed to know personally.

“Who are they?” Zane asked, pointing at the picture with the two boys and the baby which Francine held so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

“Haven and his brother Wesley. And the baby is Katie. So tragic.”

“What’s so tragic about that?”

“Katie was kidnapped twenty-two years ago and never seen again.”

Zane grunted. It wasn’t his problem. “What about Haven? What can you tell me about him? What are his powers?”

Francine shrugged and placed the picture back onto the mantel. “I’m not sure he ever received his powers. Nor Wesley for that matter.”

“Are you trying to tell me he’s not a witch? I don’t buy that. He used witchcraft to overpower my colleague. How stupid do you think I am?”

The witch glared at him. “All I’m saying is that I don’t know what happened to him. I haven’t seen him in over twenty years. I didn’t even know he was back.”

Zane pulled in a deep breath. “What about his parents? Are you still in contact with them?”

She shook her head. “His father left before Katie was born, and Jennifer was murdered twenty-two years ago.” She paused, and her eyes met his. “By a vampire.”

Fuck! That wasn’t good. Not only was the guy a bounty hunter and a witch, he also had a very good reason to hate vampires and to want to take revenge on them.

“The same vampire who kidnapped Katie.”

Two very good reasons.

What better motivation than wanting to avenge one’s mother and sister? And Zane knew all about motivation and hate and how it could carry you through the long years of solitude. How it would nurture the drive for revenge, for getting even, how those reasons would fuel the hatred and wipe out anything else in your heart. To destroy those who destroyed your family: it was the greatest motivator Zane had ever known. Haven would be a formidable opponent, who would fight to the death.

“Fuck!” Zane grumbled under his breath. “What about his brother, Wesley?”

“Wherever Haven is, Wesley isn’t far. They stick together like glue. Haven was like a father to Wesley.”

“What happened to them after their mother’s death?” It wasn’t compassion that made him ask—compassion was an emotion for pussies—no, he needed to know all he could about his enemy to find his weak spot.

“The boys were sent to a great-uncle in Iowa. He was their only relative.”

“And the father?” How could a father abandon his children when they needed him most?

Francine cast her eyes downward in an attempt to avoid his scrutinizing gaze. Was she hiding something? “He wanted nothing to do with them.”

There was more to the story, and he knew it. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Zane didn’t buy it. “Is he a witch too?”

Francine’s eyes flew back to his face. “No. Of course not. Jennifer was the witch. Her husband was fully human.”

“Why did he leave them?”

“How would I know? Married people split up all the time.” Francine’s voice sounded firm on the surface, but Zane picked up a slight tremble at the end of her sentence. The woman was lying to him.

“I’m asking again, and this time I want to know the truth. Why did he leave them?”

Francine turned away and walked toward the kitchen. “It’s not important.”

Zane stalked behind her. “I say it is.”