The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files Collector's Set: Books 1-10: Urban Fantasy Shifter Series

by Craig Halloran

  Sidney shook her head. She hated being left in the dark about anything. Even worse, just when she’d managed to bury her memories of Smoke and everything that happened at Mildred Bateman hospital, it all cropped up again, like a volcano blasting out memories and emotion. “I’m sorry,” she said to Smoke, “but didn’t you volunteer for this?”

  “The food’s still better outside of prison.”

  “You don’t look like you’ve missed any meals.”

  “Thanks for noticing.”

  She turned back to Ted. “Why the secrecy, Ted? Why?”

  “They,” Ted said, “who it seems I can’t not mention, wanted to wait until the end of this last assignment of yours was resolved.”

  “And this revolves around me how?”

  “As I am told, you and Mister Smoke are the first to bring in a member of the Black Slate in ten years.”

  “So there are other werewolves.”

  Ted rolled his eyes. “Man, I really hate that word. But, no, not a werewolf, just another wanted criminal. I don’t know much more than you do, but I do know that.”

  “So I guess we aren’t getting any government-issued silver bullets?” she asked.

  “Aw,” Ted grunted, “let’s forget that last bounty and talk about the new one.” He pushed the file over. “Shall we?”

  Sidney snatched it up. “Hold on a second, Ted. What about the case I’m on? I can’t just walk away from it. We found one of the same kids that we picked up from Ray Cline.”

  “We did?” Smoke said, sitting up.

  “I did,” Sidney added.

  “Cyrus will handle that, Sid,” Ted warned. “Drop it.”

  “I’m not going to drop it. Children are in danger. Something is wrong with the system.”

  “It’s being taken care of.”

  “No it isn’t.”

  “Sid, you have to have faith in the system.”

  She sat back and groaned. She’d heard that plenty of times. For the most part, the system did hold together, but in this case something was wrong. Really wrong. “I’d rather stick to the case I’m on.” She looked at Smoke. “No offense.”

  “She doesn’t play, then I don’t play,” Smoke said.

  Ted rose out of his chair, and with a raised voice, he said, “Let me remind you that neither one of you have a choice in the matter. Mister Smoke—”

  “Call me Smoke.”

  “Mister Smoke, it’s the Black Slate or you go back to staring at the grey slate, not to forget the time in solitary you have coming… ”

  Solitary? Why would he have solitary? Sidney noticed a nasty scrape on the right side of his face that was a little swollen.

  “… and you, Agent Shaw, will follow orders or be faced with insubordination. Now don’t buck me on this. If I could give you another assignment, I would, but I can’t. It’s this or nothing. Nothing being, you might be out of a job,” he said to her, “and you might go back to prison even longer,” he said to Smoke. “Do I have your cooperation or not?”

  Smoke shrugged.

  “Sir, yes, Sir!” Sidney mocked.

  “Don’t push me, Sid. Don’t push me.”

  She could see Ted’s harsh expression drain a little. He didn’t like this any more than she did. He had orders, and he’d follow them. It was just the way the chain of command worked, and in the grand scheme of things they were all way down on the pecking order. She opened the black file folder. Inside was the portrait of a beautiful lustrous-haired woman with a wicked look. “Interesting.”

  “Her name is Angi Harlow,” Ted said with a sigh, “also known as Night Bird.”

  Smoke leaned over and glanced at the picture. “Why do they call her Night Bird?”

  “I don’t know,” Ted mumbled, uneasy. “Maybe she can fly or something.”

  Sidney shuffled through the pictures. There were more crime scenes. Drug labs. Munitions. Blood. She swallowed hard. There were dead bodies too. Some disemboweled. Others in bits and pieces. The last photo was of a man, dead in a cemetery. His eyes were missing from a body half covered in ravens. Sidney’s chest tightened. This is not normal. She glanced up at Smoke.

  “Let’s go find her nest,” he said, “and burn it.”

  CHAPTER 6

  “You aren’t burning anything,” Ted said. “Bring her in alive.”

  “And we have how much time to do this?” Sidney asked.

  “Mister Smoke’s out for two more weeks, and the clock has already started.”

  “Now?” Sid said. “My leave starts at the end of the day, and it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow.”

  “Figure it out,” Ted said, taking his seat and fumbling through his desk. “And thanks for reminding me.” He punched keys on his desk phone. “Jane, where’s my gift?”

  “Bottom drawer on the left,” said his secretary.

  Ted reached down and produced a small flat box wrapped in bright colors. “Ah, very nice.” He got up, walked across the office, and put on his coat and hat. He opened the door, turned to Sid, and said, “Everything you need to know is in the file.”

  “Sir, what am I supposed to do with him?” she said, throwing her thumb back at Smoke.

  “You’ll figure it out.” Ted gestured for them to leave. “Let’s go. The bad guys don’t stop just because it’s the holidays.”

  Sidney headed out of the office with Smoke right behind. Man, this is so weird.

  “Jane,” Ted said, “I’ll be back in Monday. Merry Christmas everybody.”

  Sid saw Jane watching Ted’s lumbering form dash for the steps and disappear through the doorway. Jane sighed and shook her head then glanced over at Smoke. Her smiling eyes were filled with him. Sidney tapped his arm. “We have to go.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Nice meeting you, Jane.”

  “You too, Mister Smoke.” She batted her eyelashes. “I hope I see you again soon.”

  “Come on,” Sidney said, taking him by the elbow and steering him down the hall. She began nosing through the file as they headed down the stairs. The black file folder was almost a half inch thick. It had a white tab on it marked Harlow. There were names, dates, pictures, and locations. The main thing that caught her eye was the Drake logo. That and another. A black sun.

  “Can I see that?”

  “No,” she said, pushing her way through the elevator door and heading for her desk. As soon as she got there, she put on her jacket. Smoke was watching her. His handsome face stared right into her eyes. “What?”

  “You seem rattled.”

  Pull it together, Sid. Man, he looks nice in a suit.

  She plopped down in her chair. “I’m not really big on one-eighties. Pull over a seat, why don’t you.”

  Smoke reached across the aisle and dragged a four-legged chair into her cubicle and sat down.

  “Okay,” she said, scooting away, “not exactly built for two.” She took half the papers out of the file and handed them over to Smoke. A sealed envelope fell out, marked Shaw. Smoke beat her to it. She snagged it away. “For my eyes only.”

  Inside, she found another letter like the last one, on old Bureau letterhead. It said almost the exact same thing.

  Agent Shaw,

  Due to the unorthodox arrangement of this assignment, you will need to keep the following items under consideration.

  John Smoke is a convicted criminal with special skills. Don’t underestimate him. He’s dangerous. Unpredictable. Possible escape risk.

  You have eyes on him and we have eyes on him. Allow him free range. We’ll let you know if he needs reeling in.

  If any alien objects or circumstances or individuals are encountered, you should notify your superiors immediately.

  Seek Mal Carlson for assistance when needed.

  Shadow cover authorized.

  Trust your instincts and good hunting,

  The Bureau

  Whoa! Shadow cover? Who is Mal Carlson?

  “What does it say?” Smoke said without glancing up from his papers. “Let me gue
ss. I’m a dangerous criminal who can’t be trusted, and if any strange circumstances arise, then notify your superiors immediately.”

  Sidney stuffed it back in the envelope. “It says if you don’t do whatever I say, I get to shoot you.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “What, me shooting you?”

  “No, me doing whatever you say.”

  Sidney flushed around the collar. “Let’s get something to eat.” She took his papers and put them in the folder and stuck it inside her satchel. “I imagine you’re up for some pancakes.”

  “I was thinking milkshakes.”

  “Come on.” As soon as she started up, a voice interrupted.

  “Who do we have here?” Sadie said, warming up to Smoke with her hand extended.

  He rose from his chair, took her hand, and said, “I’m Smoke.”

  “No, you’re smoking.”

  “Sadie!”

  “What? He is.”

  Sidney pushed Smoke toward the elevator. “We’re going.”

  “Where you going? I want to come too,” Sadie said, “My lunchtime just started.”

  “We aren’t coming back.”

  “Now that’s my girl,” Sadie said with a smile. “Glad to know you’re listening to your sister Sadie.”

  Leading Smoke away, Sidney whirled back and whispered harshly at her friend, “You’re filthy.”

  Sadie walked away laughing.

  It left Sidney smiling, but she caught herself as she turned around and entered the elevator with Smoke. They had made it down one floor when the door opened. A man with frosty eyes entered. Morning glory! It was her supervisor, Cyrus Tweel.

  CHAPTER 7

  “What do we have here?” Cyrus sneered as the elevator doors closed. “And what’s the convict doing here?”

  Smoke wedged himself between Sidney and Cyrus.

  Cyrus leaned right; Smoke leaned right. He went left; Smoke went left. It almost made Sidney giggle. “I have new orders,” she said, fanning the file out in front of Cyrus’s face.

  “My ass you do. You’re still on a case.”

  I love pissing him off. “Take it up with Ted.”

  “Black Slate file, huh. Will you get out of my way, you goon!”

  Smoke poked him in the chest, knocking Cyrus back a little. “I haven’t forgotten about that injection you gave me.”

  “You lay another finger on me—”

  Smoke crowded him against the buttons. “I’ll break you.”

  Cyrus pushed back. “Back off, troglodyte.”

  “That’s enough, Smoke,” Sidney said. “Cyrus!”

  “I’m guessing you two are going on another zombie hunt. Hah.” Cyrus tightened his tie. “What a joke.”

  “What’s the matter, Cyrus? You can’t handle being in the dark on this one?”

  “I know more than you know about, Sid.” The elevator opened, and he stepped out. “And just so you know, I took a pass on it. It’s a joke, and so are you and your ex-con—” The doors closed.

  Smoke was shaking his head.

  “What?” she said.

  “I can’t believe you dated that guy.”

  “Why do you care?” she said, grinding her teeth.

  “It’s such a mismatch, is all.”

  “I’d think you’d have figured out by now that it didn’t work out.”

  “I’ve figured it out, but I’m pretty sure he hasn’t. He eyes you like chattel.”

  “Chattel?”

  “You know—”

  “I know what chattel is.” The elevator doors split apart, and out she went, with Smoke close on her heels. “A little space, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure,” he said, eyeing the lobby of the FBI building. It wasn’t the J. Edgar but one of the larger post-modern satellite offices a few miles outside DC.

  “Just to be sure,” she said, “you didn’t drive, did you?”

  “No. Are you still in the Interceptor?” He scooted ahead and opened the exit door for her.

  That was nice. “Yep,” she said, stepping outside into the biting cold. “Tell you what, I’ll let you scrape the frost off the windows.”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  I do not understand this man. Smoke’s actions had been very contrary to everything she’d read about him in his file—and in those strange letters, too. His military record made him out to be an insubordinate hot head. A loose cannon. For the most part, he’d been nothing but amiable and reliable. To her at least. He’s playing me. He must be. “It’s pretty cold,” she said, “you still in the mood for a milkshake?”

  “I thought I said milkshakes?”

  Geez, he’s corny. She popped the trunk open and tossed him a scraper. “Work up that appetite, big boy.” Did I just call him big boy? Why did I say that? Inside the car, she fired up the engine and turned on the heat. Her phone buzzed. It was her mom, Sally. To answer, or not to answer. With a sigh she picked up. “Hi, Mom.”

  “We’re eating at four tomorrow.” Her mother’s voice was as sweet as it was lovely, but it had a pressing tone about it.

  “I know, you told me.”

  “What’s the matter, Sidney? You don’t sound so well. You’re still coming.”

  “I just got a new assignment, and I have to tidy things up.”

  “Don’t you dare show up late, Sidney. I need you here.” Sally started to whisper. “Allison is such lousy help, but Megan shows promise.”

  “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “You have to be here to help me cook. It’s tradition.”

  In truth, Sally did all of the cooking while Sidney stood around listening to her talking. She was pretty sure most everything was ready already.

  “I’ll do my best.” She covered the phone and moaned. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be home with her family. She did, but Allison made for such a distraction. I’ve got to be there for Mom and Dad. They’d be there for me.

  “We had some excitement around here the other day,” Sally said. “A very nice man stopped by and said he was in the area looking at properties.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Of course we told him that we weren’t interested in selling, but he was very, oh, how would you call it—suave. He seemed European. Very persistent.”

  “Mom, I’ve told you about people that run these scams. Business people like that don’t just show up at your front door.” Sheesh. “Did he try to sell you a security system too?”

  “Why no, but he said his company would pay good money, and you know how much your father talks about moving to Florida this time of year.”

  “I wish I was in Florida this time of year,” she mumbled.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing. You didn’t invite him in, did you?”

  “It would have been rude not to, and besides your father was here.” Sally sighed. “They spent an hour talking about the Redskins. The only Redskins I like are the kind that have potatoes in them. That’s what I told him. The man almost spit up his tea from laughing so hard.”

  “Listen, Mom, quit letting strangers in. These are dangerous times we live in.” Her palms became clammy as she thought about the text she had received with a picture of Megan that read

  Watch your step.

  Smoke opened the car door and slumped into the passenger’s seat, jostling the car. He started blowing into his icy red hands.

  Sidney clicked the heater up a notch.

  “All right, I’ll see you tomorrow, Mom.”

  “Wait, wait a second,” Sallie said, still hanging on the line. “This man is legit. He even left a business card.”

  “Those aren’t exactly hard to come by, Mom.”

  “It says Edwin Lee. And the nice logo reads …”

  Sidney lurched up in her seat as soon as her mom finished the sentence.

  “… Drake Properties.”

  CHAPTER 8

  “I heard that,” Smoke said with a concerned tone.

  �
�Heard what?”

  “Your Mom talks pretty loud. So, let’s get up there and find out what’s going on.”

  “Excuse me, but I’ll be dropping you off, or you can get out of the car now.”

  “Sidney, who are you talking to?” Sally said on the other end of the line.

  “Nothing, Mother. I’ll see you soon.” She hung up her phone, backed the car out of her spot, and sped away.

  “I think I should come with you,” Smoke insisted. “Anything that involves Drake is tied to our cases.”

  Sidney wasn’t going to admit it, but she didn’t really hate the idea.

  “I’m dropping you off.”

  Smoke tossed his duffle bag into the back seat. “I’d rather you didn’t. I can help.”

  “Maybe you should take some time to visit with family.”

  “I can’t. Just like you, I have my orders.” He buckled his seatbelt. “Just tell me what Sally said.”

  Sidney scowled at him. “How’d you know my mother’s name?”

  “You know I have my ways.”

  “It’s kind of rude, don’t you think?”

  “You know everything about me, don’t you? My parents. Place of birth. Every military mission?”

  “I’m authorized to know that.”

  “That doesn’t exactly seem fair now, does it?”

  Sort of yes. Sort of no. “You’ll get over it.” She switched lanes and merged onto the interstate, then glanced over at him. “What happened to your face?”

  “Oh, this.” He brushed his fingers over the ragged scar. “It seems Drake has many accomplices in prison. They came after me when I asked too many questions.”

  Sidney’s chest tightened. “What kind of questions?”

  “There were a few dudes with those black-sun tattoos.” He shrugged. “They weren’t very forthcoming. It’s okay now.”

  “What did Ted mean about you going into solitary confinement?”

  “Well, after the fight—”

  “Fight? What fight?”

  “You know, the four of them cornering the one of me fight.” He rubbed his scabbed knuckles. “It landed me two weeks in solitary and four of them in the hospital, but”—he smiled—“they still have solidary coming.”