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

by Craig Halloran

  “Excuse me?” Sid said. “You’re joking, right? How can that be?”

  “No joke. It just is.”

  Sidney pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the highway. “And how long have you known where they were?”

  “A few days. Well, more like eight days. Six hours and eight days.”

  “And you haven’t shared this with anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Why? If you brought them in, you could go ahead and get your time reduced.”

  “So they say, but that isn’t always true. Besides, I’ll need some help on this.” He glanced at her. “And there aren’t many people I trust to work with.”

  “Are you telling me you strung this hunt out so you could bring me in?”

  He reached up and grabbed the handle over the car door. “Sort of.”

  Sid grinned. She’d been thinking about him every day, and now she knew that he’d been thinking about her.

  “That makes you happy, doesn’t it.”

  She clammed up. “No.”

  “Then why were you smiling?” he said, gazing at her.

  “Because you screwed Cyrus.”

  “Huh, good answer. But I don’t think that’s really why.”

  Well it isn’t, but there’s still truth in it. “So where are they?”

  “I don’t know where they are right now. But I know where they hide out,” he said.

  “And how did you come across this information?”

  He glanced at her. “You know me. Cyrus and Rebecca are pretty caught up with each other. That gave me a good bit of leash. I followed the brothers one night. They’re cautious, but I pinned them down at Mallows Bay.”

  “The ship graveyard.”

  “None other.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Gave me the willies, too.”

  “What do you mean, the willies?”

  “I watched them drive over the water and disappear,” he said, shaking his head.

  “They drove on the water?”

  “Like a bad episode of Knight Rider. Pretty bizarre, huh?”

  ***

  Mallows Bay rested on the Potomac River south of DC. It was filled with old steam ships and the ruins of other vessels that had been sunk in the 1920s. It had been a historic park up until recently. Now it was privately owned. Sid stared at the No Trespassing sign mounted on the chain-link fence. Beside it was another sign, a new one that read Drake Properties. She wanted to spit. “Boy, they own a little bit of everything, don’t they.”

  “I’d say so.” Smoke stepped over the metal gate that consisted of two steel bars crisscrossed over the road. “Ready to get a closer look?”

  She grabbed a small gear bag, and then she and Smoke walked up the road. Before long, they found themselves in a parking lot that led to the boat ramp. The skies had darkened with grey clouds, and the wind was picking up.

  They followed Wilson Landing Road to the edge of the dock. From there, Sid could see the ruins of ships scattered all over the bay. With the silt buildup caused by the tides, most of them had been clumped together into a small island, forming their own shoreline. A few of the boats still stood against time in the middle of the bay, fading ever so slowly into the murky waters.

  “They drove over the water?” she said to Smoke. “From right here?”

  “Yep.” He took off his shirt, shoes, and pants.

  “What are you doing?” she said, glancing at his legs.

  Smoke handed her his pants. “Hold these.” He waded into the water. It was murky.

  Sid couldn’t see his ankle-deep feet from where she stood.

  Wearing only his boxer briefs, Smoke ventured out farther and farther, up to his knees but not sinking.

  “Get back here!” Sid yelled, looking around. There weren’t any people for miles, but she didn’t like this place. It was too quiet. Odd. The water smelled a little rank. She rested her hand on her gun. “Smoke! Come back!”

  “The water’s a little chilly,” he said, sloshing around from side to side. “But, yeah, there is definitely a road here.” He resumed his walk farther out into the bay.

  He must have been forty yards out before he came to a stop. He turned and waved. His lips were moving, but the wind ripping over the water drowned his voice out.

  “What?” she yelled.

  He waved at her. Then, suddenly, as he ventured farther out toward an old abandoned tanker-type ship, he disappeared.

  “Smoke!” she cried. “Smoke!”

  CHAPTER 21

  Arms crossed over her chest, Sid paced back and forth over the boat ramp, holding Smoke’s pants and seething. “I’m not going after him. I’m not going after him.”

  For all intents and purposes, Smoke had been missing for more than thirty minutes. The clouds had darkened in that span of time, and now rain began to sting Sid in the wind. Calm so short a time ago, the bay’s waters now crashed against the shore.

  She stowed Smoke’s clothes in her gear bag and procured a pair of binoculars. Putting them to her eyes, she scanned the waters. The place Smoke had vanished had a shadowy look to it. She stepped out on an old floating dock that shifted beneath her feet and then spied the huge metal craft in the distance, maybe a hundred yards away. Sea birds rested on its edges. Nests jutted out from the anchor portals. Birds on the boat erupted in flight.

  He’s on there! I know it.

  She noticed a figure drifting along topside on the boat. It looked like a man in an old trench coat. His shoulders were slumped, and he moved really slowly. She adjusted the focus on her binoculars. She watched the back of the man’s head. He had a captain’s hat on and was moving away. Slowly he turned. Sid’s heart skipped a beat. The man’s skin was taut and leathery, his chin whiskers grey and ragged. His spacy, dark eyes were sunken into the sockets.

  A deader. Dammit!

  The head of the man disappeared. Sid scoured the edges of the bay with the binoculars. It was just woodland beyond the bay that contained one sunken ship after the other. The rain began to come down a little harder.

  I’m going to be soaked. I’m going to kill Smoke. I should just leave him.

  She backed off the dock and onto the hard top. She found her gear bag and stuffed the binoculars back inside it. Grabbing her phone, she checked the time. Megan would be out of school in an hour. She started to text Sam. Crap! Sam wouldn’t be able to pick Megan up. She didn’t have permission and probably wouldn’t ever be able to get it.

  “I’m a horrible aunt.”

  Frustrated, she kicked off her shoes, rolled up her pants legs, and waded into the water. The icy river sent tingles up her legs and through her neck. She felt a hard surface like a road under her feet. She slipped on the grime, bashing her knees and soaking her pants.

  “Morning glory!”

  She pushed herself up, teeth chattering, soaking most of her arms and shirt.

  Lightning flashed in the distance. Thunder rolled across the river.

  “Screw this.” She turned around and stomped back toward the dock.

  A deader popped up in front of her. It seized her leg in an iron grip and jerked her down into the cold water.

  In an instant, Sid was fighting for her life. Water filled her mouth, and she was choking. Squirming against the force, she braced her legs against the wall of the underwater bridge and shoved upward. Head clearing the water, she gasped for breath, only to be submerged again.

  Fighting for her life, she kicked at the undead person. She jammed her thumb in its eye. Bit its finger.

  Mindless, the deader held her down in the water, trying to wrap its paws around her neck.

  Somehow, Sid got her head up, took a breath, went under, and drove her feet into its chest, pushing free of its grip.

  Gasp!

  She swam for the boat launch and made her way to where she could walk up its slope. When she was shoulder deep in the bay, the deader pounced on her again.

  It tore at her, relentless. Fearless of a death that had already come for
it. Now it wanted hers.

  Sid fought. Kicked. Screamed. Her water-soaked clothes felt like lead blankets. Her chest heaved. She punched its face. Broke free of its grip and staggered up the ramp.

  God help me!

  Arms heavy as anvils, chest heaving, she found her gun and pulled it out of the holster. She turned. The deader crashed into her. Sid squeezed the trigger. Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!

  Chest full of lead, the deader slumped. Waters washed over its decaying body.

  Sidney half crawled up the ramp, soaking wet. Making it out of the bay, she coughed and heaved. Blood dribbled onto the pavement. She raised her hand to her head and felt a gash. A little woozy, she got up and stumbled to the dock and held onto the post. The rain kept pouring.

  I hate deaders.

  More movement on the water caught her eye. Someone approached, walking on the water. They were moving fast. She aimed her gun. Her wrist was shaking. She started to squeeze the trigger.

  “Don’t shoot!” said a strong, reassuring voice. Smoke emerged in the rain, wearing nothing but muscle and shorts. He caught up to her and took her by the wrist. “Run!”

  There was the whine of a motorboat engine. A fast craft appeared from around the other side of the tanker. Gun flashes sparked in the air. Bullets whizzed overhead and skipped off the ground. Smoke snatched up her gear bag and ran straight through the parking lot and into the woods.

  Lungs burning, Sid fought to keep up. Her soaked clothes weighed a ton. Fighting for her life had taken a toll on her. She needed time to recover, bullets blasting away at them or not. She collapsed.

  Smoke scooped her up in his arms. “I’m sorry. I’ve got you now, Sid.”

  She managed to drape her elbows over his neck. She was aware of Smoke laying her on the reclined passenger seat in her car. The roar of the engine. The screech of tires. Barreling through the rain, she took a long draw through her nose, put the seat back up, buckled herself in, and slapped Smoke in the arm. “As soon as I catch my breath, I’m going to kill you.”

  “You’ll have to get in line,” he said, checking the rearview mirror.

  Sid looked back behind her. A car was giving chase. A Mustang, judging by the looks of it. Black as coal.

  “I guess you found something,” she said. Her eyes widened. A man hung out of the passenger side window with a large rifle in his hands. Even in the rain, she could make out the weapon. It was a sniper rifle. Its bullets were as big as her hand. “Those are the Buffalo Brothers!”

  Smoke swerved the car just as the man fired.

  The bullet rocketed into a passing semi-truck’s cargo trailer. The entire back end exploded.

  “That was nasty,” Smoke said.

  Chest pounding, Sid watched their pursuers take another shot. It hit some power lines ahead. They fell and barricaded the road.

  Smoke slammed on the brakes, coming to a stop inches from the live power lines.

  “Get out,” Smoke said. He shoved her at the door. “Get out!”

  CHAPTER 22

  Sid jumped out of the car and scrambled onto the berm. The Buffalo Brothers’ tires screeched as their car came to a sudden stop. The brother hanging outside the car window with the rifle took aim on her car. The Hellcat. She heard him speak before he fired. “Nice car. Too bad.” He squeezed the trigger.

  The Hellcat exploded, shaking the ground. Boom!

  Face first on the ground, Sid rolled onto her back. One of her car’s wheels was falling out of the sky. She rolled out of the way. The tire bounced off the berm and disappeared somewhere in the nearby pines. Gaping, she stared at what was left of her car. It was nothing but flames and black smoke. She clutched her head. “No. No!”

  Nearby, the Buffalo Brothers were laughing. The one with the mirrored glasses lit up a cigarette. The shorter one, still tall and oddly long necked, held the rifle out so he could spit on the ground. He hefted the rifle back onto his shoulder and eyed her through the smoke. “Ah, there’s the little bird.” He started Sid’s way.

  She pulled out her gun and pointed at his chest. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  He stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean, pay for that? Is that a revenge thing? Or do you mean I’m going to buy you a new car? That’s so cliché.”

  She fired a round into his leg.

  “Ow! You stupid bitch. You shouldn’t have done that!” He started to lower the barrel of his gun.

  Sid unloaded her magazine into his chest.

  He staggered backward with his face aghast and toppled to the ground.

  The other brother rushed over. “No! No!” he said, kneeling at his brother’s side. “You killed him! You killed my brother.”

  Loading in another full magazine of ammo, Sid made her way over to the men. The one lay on his back, booted toes up, twitching. The other put his hands over his head. “I surrender. I surrender,” he said, pleading. “Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot. I don’t want to die like him.”

  Sid removed a pair of flex cuffs. She eyed her surroundings, looking for Smoke. He lay face down on the ground, not moving, several yards from the burning car. She approached the first man on his knees. “You’re Warren, right?”

  “I am he,” he said. “Look, lady, I’m really sorry about your car. Really. But your friend, well, he shouldn’t be snooping where he doesn’t belong.”

  She had started to cuff Warren when the brother on the ground, Oliver, caught her eye. He wasn’t bleeding. Suddenly, he sat upright with a big smile on his face.

  The closer brother, Warren, backhanded her in the face.

  Sid staggered backward from the powerful blow and dropped down to one knee. Raising the barrel of her gun, she squeezed off a shot, but all it hit was the ground.

  Warren clamped his hand over her wrist and wrenched the weapon free. “None of that now,” he said. “It can’t kill us, but it stings.” He tugged her off the ground, twisted her arm behind her back, and held her fast.

  “Uh!” she said, grimacing. The man who held her was strong, his grip a vise. She couldn’t move.

  Oliver chuckled a deep rumble. He inspected the bullet holes in his shirt. He dug in, squeezed a bullet out from under his skin, and flicked it away.

  Sid’s skin crawled.

  He continued, saying, “I love it when they fall for the possum act. So stupid.” He pinched Sid’s cheek. “Huh, you’re that gal from the shooting range. The nosey one. You know you got your friend killed, don’t you?”

  Sid kicked at him.

  “Oh, ho, ho,” Oliver said. “Now, now. You don’t want to do that … Sid, isn’t it?”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Of course we know who you are, Agent—well, former Agent Shaw. We do our homework.” He cocked his head and eyed her. “I thought you’d be a lot more tomboy, though. So, this is probably going to hurt worse than I first figured it would.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  He slugged her in the belly.

  “Oof!” Sid sagged down to her knees.

  “Quit playing around, Oliver,” Warren said. “Just take care of the other one. We’ll deal with her later.”

  Oliver shrugged. “Sure. Sure. I was just softening her up a bit. Besides, AV and Night Bird were my friends.” He walked over and picked up the sniper rifle. He charged the chamber and stepped into the firing line of Smoke.

  The rangy man was gone.

  Oliver grunted.

  “Well, go and get him,” Warren said. “I can smell his scent. Get on it!”

  “I am on it.” Oliver marched forward.

  Smoke stepped out from behind the front side of the burning car. His head was bleeding and he held his side. “Let her go,” he said.

  “Oh, he likes you,” Warren said in her ear. “He wants to play hero. Dead men can’t be heroes.” He yelled over at Smoke, “I don’t think you’re in any position to negotiate, Mr. Smoke. You should have stayed in prison.”

  Smoke shuffled forward. “You don’t want us. You ha
ve bigger things to deal with. Let her go. She’s harmless.”

  “You’re both harmless,” Warren said. “At least that’s what the others thought. No, I think it’s time to finish you off, Mr. Smoke, but I think they have other plans for her.”

  “What do you mean,” Sid said, “for me?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. Oliver, just kill him.”

  The assassin slicked back his jet-black hair under his palm, hefted the weapon up to his shoulder, and aimed. “Bye-bye.” He squeezed.

  CHAPTER 23

  Smoke dove right.

  The bullet exploded somewhere in the forest.

  “How’d he do that?” Oliver said. “It’s impossible.”

  Smoke charged through the pouring rain and slammed into Oliver. The two big men went down. Smoke clocked Oliver in the jaw. In the ribs. Oliver Ratson roared and countered with a flurry of his own. Then the two men were locked up. Warriors with fire-lit eyes slugging it out with everything they had.

  “Oh, this will be fun. For a moment,” Warren said in her ear. “Your friend will put up a good fight. Then, his lungs will burn like fire. Feel like they burst inside his chest. He’ll be unable to move his limbs at some point, and then my brother will grind him into the dust. He should have just let Oliver shoot him.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that,” Sid said. “He’s killed your ilk before. I’m sure he’ll kill them again.”

  “You had help before. You don’t have it now, foolish girl.”

  A glint of sharp metal appeared in Smoke’s hand. He jabbed it into the back of Oliver’s knee.

  Oliver howled and staggered backward. He had a limp now. A bad one. If Sid were to guess, Smoke had torn out a tendon. “Looks like that hurt,” Sid said. “Do you want to put a wager on it?”

  Warren applied more pressure on her neck with his forearm. “Don’t aggravate me, mortal.”

  Wary eyed, Oliver circled Smoke. “I’m gonna take that knife and gut you with it.”

  “Please,” Smoke said, “by all means, try.”

  With a roar, Oliver charged. He sprang the last few feet like a wild beast pouncing on its prey.