The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files: Special Edition Fantasy Bundle, Books 1 thru 5 (Smoke Special Edition)

by Craig Halloran

  Somebody really needs to explain all this.

  She was sitting on the sofa hiding her glum face with a smile when Megan asked, “Aunt Sid, can we watch a movie?”

  “Sure, whatever you want. You pick.”

  For the latter half of the day, she played with Megan, feeling guilty because her heart wasn’t in it. Her thoughts raced through every detail of her visit from Smoke, Sam, and Guppy. Perhaps the entire thing had been staged to get that file. A ruse. A deception. Was someone playing a game with her?

  “Can we order pizza?” Megan asked at dinnertime.

  “Sure. Whatever you want.” Sidney scratched some images on a note pad. It was a picture of Mason Crow. His broad face and features gave him an inhuman quality. On a separate pad she made a list of people, places, and things she’d seen in the file. A tiny finger tapped her on the shoulder. “Huh?”

  Megan looked up at her. “You need to call it in.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She set down her pad. “Where’s the phone?”

  Megan cocked her head. “You have it. In your pocket.”

  “I thought there was a phone in the apartment.”

  “There was, but it was discontexted.”

  Sidney laughed. “You mean disconnected.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said, discontexted.” The little girl yawned. Her light eyes were weak and tired. “I like Hawaiian Style, with thin crust and extra ham.”

  Sidney readied her phone. “Your mommy likes that?”

  “No. That’s Grandpa’s recipe.”

  “So it is.” She knew that. They had practically grown up on it as kids. “And you want it from Husson’s Pizza, I take it?”

  “Either there or Grazianno’s.” Sidney curled up on the couch, sniffled, and closed her eyes. “Wake me up when it gets here. I think I need a little nap time.”

  ***

  The next twenty-four hours were more restless ones. On the outside, Sidney tried to entertain Megan the best she could, but the Black Slate was eating her alive on the inside. There was no word either. Not from Smoke, Mal, or anyone. She stewed over whether or not to report that the file had been lost, but it could wait until Monday. Maybe later.

  Megan lay on the sofa napping again. Sid covered her with a blanket. The little girl’s energy ran high in spurts before turning low. She needs to see a doctor.

  Sid watched television on and off, but nothing eased her restless mind. It was 3:16 Sunday afternoon, and Allison wasn’t expected back for hours. I’m not going to make it. She rubbed Megan’s leg. She must think I’m a horrible aunt.

  A jingle of keys sounded outside the door, and the knob rattled. Sidney unholstered her gun and slipped over to the door and peered through the spyhole. Allison? She removed the chain just before the door swung open.

  Allison shuffled inside with her head down and tossed her luggage on the floor.

  “You’re home early,” Sidney said, “Is everything all right?”

  “I’m fine. Thanks.” She made her way over to Megan and huddled at her side. She kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I missed you.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I said I’m fine,” Allison said again, not making eye contact. “And I appreciate it. I really do. But if you don’t mind, I could use some time alone with my daughter.”

  “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to tell me that face to face.”

  Allison stood up with a sigh and faced Sid. She had a split lip, and her chin was bruised. “I partied too much and fell. And I don’t need a lecture. I’ve embarrassed myself enough already.”

  Sidney reached for Allison’s sleeve. “Let me see your arms.”

  “What? No!” Allison backed away. “I’m not using.”

  “I didn’t think you were, but I can see a bruise on your wrist that wasn’t there when you left. How’d that get there?” She reached out again. “And what’s that on your neck?”

  Allison smacked her hand away. “Get out of here!”

  CHAPTER 13

  There was no argument. Sidney gathered her things, kissed Megan on the forehead, and left. She’d been driving around in the Hellcat ever since. Three hours of lonely road. She drove around Interstate 495 at least four times before pulling into a gas station.

  The chill nipped at her ears as she pumped high-octane fuel into her car. Finished, she headed inside the store, fixed a large coffee, paid with a card, and hit the road. Inside her, a conflict stirred. Allison infuriated her. Whoever had hurt her sister made it worse. And the last thing Sid wanted was for Megan to have to see such things. It pained her heart. She said the serenity prayer.

  “O God, give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

  The courage to change the things that I can,

  And the wisdom to know the difference.”

  She took a swig of coffee and thundered down the road. I can’t do it all. At least not on my own.

  Cruising through the biting wind of the late-winter day, she headed toward Smoke’s apartment. She wanted answers to her questions. And somebody better be there to answer. Off the interstate she went, onto the highway until she hit the back road that rolled right up to the remodeled service station that was now Smoke’s home. The brakes squeaked as she came to a stop. No lights shone from within, and no cars were parked outside.

  I thought Sam would be here.

  She shut off the engine, made her way to the front door, and turned the knob. It was unlocked. She swung the door open and was greeted by a burst of warm air. Inside, the light was dim, but the gas furnace rattled above. She closed the door behind her. “Smoke?”

  “You’re early.” Smoke sat in a chair that seemed too small for his frame, hunched over his computer desk, studying something.

  “Am I? I didn’t realize I was on your schedule. As a matter of fact, I’m not aware of any schedule.”

  He kept his back to her, igniting her blood.

  She marched over and spun him around. “Tell me what in the hell is going on!”

  Smoke tilted is head back and gazed up into her eyes. His color had returned, and his strong, handsome features were more pronounced in the dusky light. He offered a smile and shrugged his brawny shoulders. “I’d be happy to fill you in, Agent Shaw.” He reached behind him and grabbed a sealed manila file and handed it over to her. “You might want to start here.”

  The file had some heft to it. She wanted to hit him with it. She ripped the top off and removed the black file that was inside. The tab on it read, Mason Crow. “What is this?”

  “You might want to sit down.”

  “I’m fine where I’m standing.”

  “Suit yourself then, Agent Shaw.” He got up and took a seat on the old black leather couch and sunk in. “It was all a setup. Sorry.”

  She opened the file. Most of the pages and pictures were identical, but there was more information. A notable amount. There was a smaller envelope inside with bureau letterhead in it. “What do you mean by ‘setup?’”

  Smoke rubbed his neck. “The other file was a ploy to draw the enemy out.”

  She stiffened. “And I wasn’t consulted on this!”

  “No. They agreed that it might interfere. That it was too risky. Keeping you in the dark was better. At least that’s the version I got.” He looked her in the eye. “I didn’t agree. Things got dicey on Friday, and that’s why I showed up.”

  She walked over, leaned down in front of him, and hit his knee with the folder. “Who are they?”

  “Good question. I don’t have the answer.”

  She let out a disturbing chuckle and flopped down on the sofa. “Am I even on the FBI’s payroll anymore?”

  “As long as the checks keep clearing, I’d say so. Besides, there are plenty of folks on the payroll that people never see or hear about.”

  “Yes, I know.” From the file, she took out the letter and opened it up. “Everything’s a conspiracy.”

  “And you still doubt that after everything you’
ve seen?”

  “No, I believe what I see, and I believe in things I don’t see. I just don’t share your disconcerted views.”

  He sat up. “Disconcerted?”

  She read the letter to herself.

  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 encountered, notify your superiors immediately.

  Seek Mal Carlson for assistance when needed.

  Shadow cover authorized on this Deep Black assignment.

  Trust your instincts and good hunting,

  The Bureau

  “Care to share?” Smoke asked.

  “You mean to tell me you don’t know? Huh?” She handed him the letter. “Go ahead. Read. Have yourself a chuckle. After all, this is becoming a joke.”

  “It’s anything but that,” he said, staring at the letter and then chuckling. He did his Batman voice again. “He’s dangerous. Hah. I just love that part. Unpredictable. I guess that’s ’cause I’m Batman.”

  Sidney held her lips tight to keep from laughing and stuck her nose in the folder. There were a few more photos, and one of a woman stood out in particular. There was something about her, standing alongside Mason Crow with an M-16 assault rifle resting over her shoulder. A deep intensity shone in the tall and lanky woman’s eyes. She seems familiar.

  Absorbed in the photo, she hadn’t even noticed that Smoke had gotten up until she heard a rustle behind her. “What are you doing?”

  Smoke stood by the kitchen wearing only a pair of boxer-briefs. His long frame was layered in corded muscles. With a panther’s ease, he slid the sweet heart suit up over his powerful legs. His arms were scarred and knotty. His smooth, strapping chest revealed something primal and powerful about him. A giant cat of a man ready to spring. “Getting ready,” he said.

  Sidney swallowed and caught her breath. Something stirred inside her. She ingested him with her eyes. It was just her. Just him. And nobody else for miles. He slid the rest of the suit over his brawny shoulders. “Where’d you get that suit?”

  “Mal sent me a new one.”

  “Mal? Oh, your buddy Mal.” Her urgings cooled. Her temper flared. “You sound like old buddies.”

  “I said he sent it to me.” He put on his jeans and a burgundy hoodie that was similar to Sam’s. “Do you happen to have yours?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Because those people who stole the false file, well…” he strapped two guns to his hips, “I know exactly where they are.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “You know exactly where they are, huh?” Sidney said. They stood outside her car in the rain twenty miles south of DC, looking at an open field. “Lead the way then.”

  Smoke stared at an app on his phone. According to him, they had planted a tracking device in the dummy file. That explained how Smoke had known Sidney was staying at Allison’s apartment. He tapped the side of his phone with his palm.

  “Really?” Sid said. “Is it named Ziggy, too?”

  “Huh, good one.” He stuffed his phone into his pocket and sauntered out into the field. “Something’s here. I can feel it.”

  Huffing through the drizzling rain, Sidney followed his lead. On the ride over, she and Smoke had made amends and discussed the file—and a few other things. His apologetic words had given her some comfort, but there was still plenty of tension between her shoulders, even with the sweet heart suit on. Smoke had given her a hoodie too, like the ones he and Sam had, saying it was another of Mal Carlson’s devices. Hers was dark blue.

  “I see something,” he said, pointing ahead.

  Squinting her eyes, she made out a very high chain-link fence.

  Smoke marched straight for it, stopped, and gawked at the crooked sign. “No trespassing.”

  “No surprise.” She made her way a little farther down along the fence. “It says here, ‘Property of Drake Real Estate.’” She cocked her head and stretched out her hands. “I wonder if it’s electrified.” She grasped it and started shaking uncontrollably. “Aaaaaiiiiiieeeeee!”

  Smoke shook his head at her. “Really?”

  She stopped shaking and let go. “You know, you’re the first person that hasn’t worked on.”

  “And you’ve done that how many times?”

  Once. “I can’t remember.” I’m really losing my humorous touch. “It seems odd that the people who took the file would come this way. There isn’t a road or anything.”

  “I’m not right on their trail. I’m staying a quarter mile off.” He reached up, grabbed the lip of the fence, and pulled himself up and over. He eyed her through the fence. “I don’t want them to see me. Are you coming?”

  “I kind of like the view from right here,” she said through the fence. “And I assume you’re accustomed to it.”

  “You’re cold.”

  She felt a little bad, but made no apologies. “Sam mentioned that you fought a gargoyle. Is there any truth to that?”

  “Yep. Now are you coming over, or are you keeping the car warm for my return?”

  “Just hold on a second. I think we need a little more planning before we do anything.”

  He put his hands on his hips. “Fine, let’s hear it.”

  “First, the objective. Mason Crow. They want him alive.”

  “Yes, same as always.” He shrugged and came closer, almost pressing his face to the fence. “Nothing new. Listen, I can go this alone. Retrieve. Report. Then we’ll take step two. You can count on me.”

  They both clutched the fence, and her fingers touched his. She climbed over and hopped down. “We’ll see.”

  Night had fallen. The pair cut through the darkness of the meadow. The rain slid right off their hoodies, and the second skin she wore left her feeling energized.

  “I’ve got the signal back,” Smoke said, staring at his phone. “Maybe a couple hundred meters that way.” He pointed.

  Wading through the tall grasses, she caught a whiff of manure. The landscape flattened and large bales of hay were scattered throughout the area. Peeking out of the night against the trees were a handful of silos. When they made a bead for the structures, several storehouses appeared.

  Smoke stayed her with his hand and hunkered down. He produced a small pair of binoculars and put them to his eyes. He handed them to her.

  Gazing through them, she got a better look at the ranch. A huge log cabin sat in the middle, with smoke billowing out of the chimney stack. The windows showed a warm glow within. The binoculars detected something else as well: heat signatures of men standing or strolling on the porch. With assault rifles in their arms. She surveyed more of the area. Guards were posted all around the complex. They stood among the silos, storehouses, and barns. There were vehicles too. Humvees. Vans. Farm trucks. Beyond the buildings was something else. A helicopter. Morning Glory.

  “I counted fifteen, what about you?”

  She handed him the binoculars. “Twenty.”

  “Hah,” he said, pulling out his pistol. “I was testing you. Good eye. Besides, I like these odds better.” He clicked out the magazine and slapped a different one in. “The more bad guys, the merrier.” He tossed her a magazine. “Blue tips. Have fun.”

  “More presents from Mal?”

  “Yep.” Smoke stood up in the grass and grinned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to put some holes in things.” He glanced at her. “So what’s the plan?”

  She switched magazines. “Tell me yours. If I don’t like it, I’ll tell you mine.”

  “Plan A, we disable the chopper first and recon. Plan B, we secure the chopper, find Crow, unleash a distraction, take him down, and whisk hi
m away in the chopper.”

  “Are you flying the chopper? Just because I was in the Air Force doesn’t mean I’m a pilot.” Her fingertips tingled. “I’m a cop, remember?”

  “I’ve got it covered.”

  Sidney didn’t remember reading anything about him being a pilot. “Let’s just find out if he’s in there first. And stick together.”

  Staying low, the two of them circled around the ranch toward the chopper. Her nerves were on fire, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. A step ahead of her, Smoke prowled with the finesse of a jungle cat. It eased her doubts. She split off to Smoke’s right, stumbled over something, and pitched forward. Crap. She gathered her feet under her.

  Smoke stopped and turned back.

  “I’m fine.”

  He turned his back and marched forward again.

  Sidney took her next step. Something seized her legs and jerked her down to the ground. A rock-hard fist clocked her in the side of the head, drawing bright spots. Cold and clammy hands clutched at her throat. Uncanny strength pinned her down. Dead yellow eyes found hers. It was a deader, stuffing her face down in the earth’s soft grime. Help!

  CHAPTER 15

  Fighting against her aggressor as quietly as she could, she released her gun and fumbled for her knife. Her hand found the hilt and jerked it out. She stabbed wildly over her shoulder. The blade bit deep into flesh but the strong arms held her fast. Thrashing, she twisted onto her back and stabbed at its chest. The blade sunk into its belly.

  Its expressionless leer didn’t change. Its fists flailed at her head.

  She covered up.

  Wop! Wop! Wop! Urk!

  The beating stopped. Her eyes snapped open. The deader that straddled her swayed with a knife tip sticking out of its chest. It teetered over into the grass.

  Smoke stood there offering his hand. “How are you?”

  Heart thundering inside her ears, she got back on her feet. “Fine.” She kicked the monster. “Damn dirty deaders.”

  The monster still twitched.

  Smoke kneeled down and wrenched his blade like a key, making a sickening crunch.