Smoke Rising
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Series: Book 1
By Craig Halloran
Smoke Rising
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Series: Book 1
By Craig Halloran
Copyright © September 2014 by Craig Halloran
Amazon Edition
TWO-TEN BOOK PRESS
P.O. Box 4215, Charleston, WV 25364
ISBN eBook: 978-1-941208-11-3
ISBN Paperback: 978-1-941208-12-0
http://www.thedarkslayer.net
Edited by Cherise Kelley
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, recorded, photocopied, or otherwise—without the prior permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
Publisher's Note
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Series
Book 1
Smoke Rising
Prologue
The man-like thing lurched up and smacked Smoke in the chin.
He staggered back.
It started walking down the hall, arms dangling at its sides and a hole clean through its back and chest.
Sidney took aim.
Blam! Blam! Blam!
It tumbled over with its kneecap blasted apart.
“Good shot.” Smoke wiped his brow and headed after their fallen attacker where it writhed on the floor. “I think it’s a zombie.” He pointed his weapon at its head.
Blam!
“Zombies aren’t real,” she said, catching her breath and holstering her gun.
CHAPTER 1
Huntsville Detention Facility, Alabama
“Are you nervous?” the warden asked.
“No,” Sidney said. “Why would I be?”
Warden Decker shrugged. Dabbing the sweat on his brow with his handkerchief and tucking it back in his pocket, he hustled forward and swiped his card. Nothing happened. He swiped it again and again. An unseen latch popped.
“Ah, there we go.” He opened one of two heavy metal doors and stepped aside. “It’s an old place. Not made for all this technology. I miss the sound of those keys jangling on my hip some days.”
“Thank you,” she said, crossing into the next room.
“You’re welcome, Agent Shaw.”
The pair entered a long hall made of cinderblock wall, lined with barred windows. Agent Shaw’s short heels echoed on the marble floor. The prison was old, but it had the smell of fresh paint that still lingered on the pale grey walls.
The thickset black man cleared his throat. “I’ve been the warden these ten years, and I have to admit, I’ve never had a situation like this.”
“Like what?” She adjusted the strap of her black leather satchel on her shoulder.
“We just don’t get a lot of visitors from the FBI, that’s all. And you have to admit, the situation is very unique.” He was smiling as he glanced over at her. “Isn’t it?”
“For you, I suppose, but I’ve been doing this for quite some time.”
“Visiting prisoners in sweat-rank prisons?” He huffed. “You didn’t sign up for that, did you?” He let out a little laugh. “Sounds more like something a foolish young man would do, like me.”
She showed the slightest smile on her face. Dark hair was pinned up behind her head. She wore a dark-blue pants suit with a white shirt. She reminded him of his daughter, in a white sort of way. Too confident for her own good.
“My job requires me to go to a lot of unique places, but I’ll admit, Warden Decker, I don’t think I’ve been to a place as humid as this.”
“They’ve been working on the A/C for twenty years, and it still never works right. I’m from the South, and I still never get used to it.” He dashed the sweat from his eyes. “Sorry. But this hallway has no ventilation at all.”
“It’s all right. The academy’s prepared me for worse.”
He stopped at the next set of doors, readied his swipe key, and paused.
She dipped her chin and eyed him. “Something on your mind, Warden?”
He leaned on the door, took out his blue handkerchief, and wiped his neck. “I just got to know. Why do you need to see him?”
“That’s confidential.”
“I know that, but … it’s so strange. Listen, Agent Shaw. I’m the warden. Certainly you can give me some nugget of information. After all, he’s my prisoner. I’m pretty familiar with him. I’m pretty familiar with all of them. We have the worst of all sorts here: dangerous maniacal bloodthirsty killers. Of course, I’ve seen some of them cry like babies before.” He gave her a quick finger shake. “But we don’t have—and never have had—anyone like him.”
“Sorry,” she said, looking at the next set of doors.
They were painted white, with the word “LIBRARY” stenciled in black where the window glass had been replaced with steel.
“Is this really a library?”
“It is.” He tapped on the metal. “This is how we make do. I don’t think we get the same level of funding as the G-Men”—he looked her up and down—“or G-Women do. Are you sure I can’t stay inside with you?”
“I’ll be fine.” She shifted her satchel from one side to the other.
He took a breath and swiped his card. “All right then.”
CHAPTER 2
The latch popped, and the warden pushed the door open. It was a library as expected, with stacks and rows of books. The musty smell reminded Sidney of her days in high school. She’d done a lot of reading back then. Large wooden tables were lined up neatly, resting on old hardwood floors.
Two correction officers in grey shirts and black pants held synthetic stocked shotguns on either side of a table. A man in an orange jumper sat there between them. His head was down over a newspaper and his dark straight hair dangled over his face.
Her heart thumped behind her temples.
“I can stay inside, just out of earshot,” the warden said, patting the semiautomatic pistol on his hip.
She lifted a brow. “I don’t think he’ll try to escape, or even to hurt me, for that matter. It’s not in his profile.”
The warden blocked her view of the prisoner and whispered, “I’ve read his profile too. Several times. He has a dark side to him.”
“I know, but don’t all men?”
Warden Decker nodded and stepped aside. “Come on, men.” But at the last second, he turned to her and said, gradually getting loud enough for the prisoner to hear, “As long as you stay out of the stacks, I’ve got eyes on everything. Just signal when you’re finished.”
The guards came forward, eyeing her as they passed the threshold.
“Uh, Warden—”
Warden Decker held his hand up and led them out.
Sidney glanced over her shoulder as the doors began to close, just in time to see Warden Decker swallow. Her heart skipped a beat as the door sealed shut. She turned and faced the prisoner.
Pull it together. He’s just another creep, Sidney.
She approached him, heart thumping. It was even hotter in the library, and she could feel the sweat beading above her lip. Her eyes slid toward the camera globes above. Those things better be on. She dropped her file on the table, dragged a chair back, and sat down. The man across from her, eyes still down, turned a page of the newspaper.
“John Smoke,” she said, scooting her file in front of her and opening it. “I’m Agent Shaw with the FBI. How are you doing t
oday?”
Without glancing up, he said, “You’re different than what I expected. What are you, about five foot eleven? That’s tall for a gal. And you’re even wearing flat shoes. The last one I met was a sawed-off dumpling with Coke-bottle glasses. I didn’t like her so well.” He scanned the paper, turned the last page, folded it up, and pushed it aside. He clasped his fingers together and looked down into her eyes. “Volleyball. I bet you played collegiate volleyball.”
Smoke was hawkish, but handsome. His chestnut hair was thick and cut just above the neck. His eyes were dark with a burning fire behind them. He was a strong-chinned, lean, well-knit man with hands the size of mitts.
“This is business, Mister Smoke, not a social call.”
“You know”—he eased back in his chair—“you aren’t exactly what I figured for an FBI woman. I was expecting someone a little less, well, a lot less—to keep it professional— appealing. I have to say, it’s a nice surprise.” He scratched the scruff on his cheeks. “Shaw. Is that your maiden name?”
Sidney didn’t have a ring on. “I’ll ask the questions. You just answer them.”
“Well, you haven’t asked anything yet.” His voice was a little rough, with a hair of charm behind it. He clasped his fingers together and rested them on his head. “I’m all yours.”
“All right, Mister Smoke—”
“Smoke,” he interrupted.
“Excuse me?”
“Just call me Smoke.” He winked. “That’s what everyone calls me.”
“Sure,” she said. “First question then. Are you interested in getting your sentence commuted?”
He shrugged.
I’m starting to hate this guy. Sidney had interviewed dozens of prisoners over her career. She’d negotiated deals with many. Every time she mentioned someone getting their sentence commuted, their eyes lit up. Smoke’s hadn’t.
“You’re less than a year into a three-year sentence,” she continued. “And when I say commute, I’m not talking about months off. I’m talking about years.”
Rubbing a bruise on his cheek just below the ear, he said, “I’ve become pretty fond of the old place.” He glanced around. “It speaks to me.”
“Warden Decker says you and the other prisoners don’t get along so well.”
“He’s such a worrywart. Nice guy, though.”
“I’m been informed that there’s a bounty on your head.” She leaned forward. “In most cases, the superior numbers get you. One slip-up or payoff of the guards will get you killed in here.”
“It keeps me sharp,” he said.
“Getting killed?”
“People trying to kill you is always the best training.”
“I see,” she said. “And I guess I shouldn’t be surprised after reading your file.” She leafed through some pages. “You’ve had quite a career for a man under thirty. Navy SEAL. Ex-Washington PD. Bounty Hunter. Prisoner. Now that’s a resume.”
“Chicks dig it.”
“There aren’t any chicks around here, and there won’t be for the next two years. The funny thing I came across is how you wound up here in the first place. You are a decorated veteran, though not without some marks. Tell me, why’d you leave the SEALs?”
“I didn’t like the pay.”
“Oh, the pay,” she said, eyeing the file and nodding, “but that’s not what it says here. The gist I got was that you are difficult to control. Insubordinate. You struck an officer.”
“He had a big mouth.”
“He was a general.”
“He had a really big mouth.” He shrugged. “And I got an honorable discharge. I hope you read that far.”
“I see,” she said. “So you didn’t like the military?”
“Listen, Agent Shaw. I loved the military. But there is a lot of standing around, training, and waiting. I got bored.”
“It doesn’t say that here.”
“Do you believe everything you read?”
Interesting. But at least he’s talking. “Let’s skip over the Washington PD and talk about why you became a bounty hunter.”
“Better money.”
“Really? So you’re all about the money?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care.”
Typical stubborn man.
“Fine. Let’s talk money then. The last goon you brought in was worth ten thousand.”
“It should have been fifty, and I still haven’t received payment for that.”
“No?” Sidney said, cocking her head. “Well, I wonder why that is?”
Smoke looked away and growled in his throat a little. He mumbled something.
Sidney leaned forward and turned her ear toward him. “What was that?”
The room seemed to darken when Smoke’s eyes narrowed. He slammed his fist on the table. Wham! “He had it coming!”
CHAPTER 3
Heart racing, Sidney flinched back. Smoke’s eyes were smoldering fires. Behind her, the doors burst open, and two guards dashed in. The first one drove the butt of his shotgun into Smoke’s chest, toppling him over. In a second, both barrels were lowered toward his chest.
“Don’t you move, Smoke,” the first guard said. “Not an inch.”
“Are you all right, Miss?”
Face flushed red, Sidney jumped from her chair. “Get your sorry asses out of here!”
“What?”
“Did I signal for the cavalry?”
“Well…”
“Did I?” She pointed at the cameras.
“But—” the first guard started.
“Jeff,” a voice shouted from just outside the library doors. “Moe! Let’s go!” It was Warden Decker. His chest was heaving and his face beaded in sweat. He loosened his tie. “Now!”
With hesitation, the guards lifted their barrels and backed off, eyes never leaving Smoke.
“Sorry, Miss.”
Sidney glared at him.
“Er … Sorry, Agent Shaw.”
Sidney waved the warden off, and he showed her a squeamish grin. Seconds later, the doors closed again, leaving her all alone with Smoke. She turned and found him in the chair, with a slight smile on his face. She hid a gasp. She hadn’t even heard him move. No rattle of metal nor scuff of chair. Nothing. She resumed her seat.
“How’s your chest? I bet that hurt.”
“I’ve been hurt worse.” His eyes were dancing. “You’re prior military too, aren’t you?”
“Let’s pick up where we left off before you had your little tantrum, shall we? I believe you were saying you’re upset that you haven’t been paid.”
“I took a major thug off the streets. A top dealer.” He rolled his shoulders and grimaced a little. “I should have been paid. I was tossed in here instead.”
“The judge didn’t see it that way.” She glanced through the file. “It says you acted with extreme prejudice.”
“The man’s a killer. A murderer.”
“That’s for the courts to decide. And we can’t just go around maiming people.”
Smoke lifted his brows. “Even if it saves a life?”
“You cut off his index finger.”
“No, I cut off his trigger finger.”
She wanted to laugh but held it back. “Most people only have one trigger finger. You cut off two.”
“I can shoot right- or left-handed. Can’t you?”
“I’ve never had the need. As for you, well, I’d venture to guess your little act of mutilation didn’t sit well with Mister Durn. That’s probably why he put the prison hit on you.”
“Huh, well, I’ve been a bounty hunter a long time.”
“You’ve been one four years.”
“That’s a long time.” He crinkled his brow. “Anyway, I’ve achieved a lot in that time. Helped a lot of people. But some of those judges aren’t so helpful. Durn has deep pockets. It’s no surprise he paid the judge off and got me sent inside here.”
“Maybe the judge was coe
rced.”
“He should be willing to die first.”
Sidney nodded. Smoke had a point, but it was all speculation. She picked up the file and fanned herself with it.
“It’s in the past now. Let’s talk about the future. Are you interested in hearing what I have to offer or not?”
He shrugged.
“Yes or no, if you please.”
“Does it involve working with the FBI or any other law enforcement agency?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then no.”
“Why?”
“You’ve read my file. I don’t play well with others. Too many rules. Not enough action. That’s why the bad guys get away. Besides, I don’t trust them. If I did, I’d probably be doing what you’re doing.”
“Come on.” She leaned back. “We aren’t all bad.”
“See, you just admitted it.”
“Admitted what?”
“That most of you are bad.” He tilted his head back and let out a laugh. “Hah.”
“That’s a common expression.”
“Says the girl scout. And I bet you think those cookies you’re selling are good for me, too.” He shook his head. “No one is as blind as he who will not see.”
“My eyes are wide open.”
“I’m sure they are, but my answer is still no.”
“So, you’d rather sit in here for two more years plus and let more criminals get away?”
“There are plenty of criminals inside here that are in need of my correction.”
Difficult. Difficult. Difficult. The man across from her seemed content, however. It was weird.
“So long as I’m here, will you just listen to my offer?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“The FBI has a list.” She clasped her hands together and rested them on the table. “The typical America’s Most Wanted. You’re familiar with it, I’m sure.”
“Uh-huh. Say, what kind of perfume are you wearing?” He sniffed the air. “It’s different. Good, but different.”
“The Marshalls have their lists. The Washington PD has their lists too,” she continued, “more on the local level. You’ve dealt with them all, and disregarding the last case, you’ve done an exemplary job.”
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