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

by Craig Halloran

  “We’ll see about that,” Sid said. Nostrils flaring, she rushed in and unleashed her rage. Locking her hands over Deanne’s head, she started driving her knee into the woman’s ribs. She locked her fingers in the woman’s hair, jerked her head back, and punched her in the jaw. Deanne’s head rocked backward, and her knees buckled. Sid hit her again. And again. Bone smacked into bone. Wap! Wap! Wap! Wap!

  Nose bleeding, Deanne spit out a mouthful of blood. In one swift move, she executed a judo throw and toppled Sidney over. She shoved her forearm into Sidney’s throat and put her full weight on it. “You’re tough. I’ll have them put that on your tombstone.”

  Face reddening, Sidney pushed back against the woman’s power. Deanne was strong. Solid. She had the leverage and the glazed look of a killer in her eye. Sidney drew her fist back and launched it hard into the woman’s ear.

  Deanne’s teeth clacked together. Her taut body went limber.

  Sid slugged her again, smiting her in the jaw.

  Deanne’s eyes flashed with anger. She still had Sidney pinned down, legs clamped over her waist. “I’ve had enough of this.” She unleashed a flurry of hard punches.

  Sid blocked some. She caught the full force of the others. Fighting against the unrelenting surge, her arms began to get heavy. Her arms juddered against every blow. She’s a maniac. She’s a machine. Fighting for her life, her limbs failed just as Deanne’s fingers locked around her throat.

  “Time to die,” Deanne said, ramping up the pressure.

  Sid took a halfhearted swing. The blow scraped off Deanne’s brow, cutting a little slit above her eye. Blood dripped from the wound and onto Sid’s face.

  I can’t die like this. I can’t die.

  CHAPTER 38

  Megan’s face flashed in Sid’s mind. Who would take care of her? New strength surged through her veins. She dug her fingers into one of Deanne’s hands. I won’t die like this! She locked onto Deanne’s thumb and wrenched it backward.

  Deanne let out a pained yelp. “Ouch!” The woman jumped up and away.

  Sid held onto Deanne’s arm and slung the rogue agent back down. Jaws clenched, she wrestled the older woman onto her stomach and rammed her elbow into her kidneys.

  Deanne let out another yelp.

  Sid shoved her onto her back and pinned her down the same way Deanne had her before. Like an MMA fighter, she started punching, one blow after the other. “You’re going to pay for what you did to Ted!” Whap! A glint of steel caught her eye. It was one of her knives. Sid plucked it up off the metal floor and raised it over her head. You’re going to pay!”

  Deanne’s body was limp. Her eyes were wide open, and she was panting. “Go ahead if you have the guts. Go ahead.”

  “Rrrrah!” Sid cried, bringing the knife down with all her might.

  Deanne lurched. Eyes blinking, she stared at the blade stuck in the ship’s hull by her side. She let out a ragged sigh.

  On her knees, Sid rolled Deanne over.

  Cyrus tossed her some flex cuffs, and with a knife, he cut loose Rebecca and Winslow.

  Still, they were surrounded by deaders. The strange half-dead people clutched oversized wrenches, pry bars, and chains in their hands.

  “Call them off,” Sid said to Deanne. “Call them off.”

  “No. I can’t do that. It would be disloyal.” Deanne took in a sharp breath and started to whistle.

  Buppa-Buppa-Buppa! Buppa-Buppa-Buppa! Buppa-Buppa-Buppa!

  Sid, Cyrus, Rebecca, and Winslow hit the deck.

  Smoke stood like a giant unloading one blast of rounds after another into the deaders with the M-60 machine gun.

  Bullets tore through their flesh. Heads were chopped up and severed. Body parts became tiny bits and pieces. It was carnage. Raw. Overwhelming. Smoke cut one deader clean in half. Its torso fell from its pelvis. One after another they fell under the heavy barrage of bullets. The gunfire stopped.

  “Hold on,” Smoke said, eyeing the heap of twitching bodies. He loaded up another belt of a hundred rounds of ammo. “Resume fire.”

  Buppa-Buppa-Buppa! Buppa-Buppa-Buppa! Buppa-Buppa-Buppa!

  Seconds later, all the deaders were nothing but a pile of rotten cat food. Smoke unslung the M-60 from his shoulder and tossed it back into the trunk. “Let’s roll.”

  Everyone regained their feet. Cyrus’s eyes were fixed on the leaf pile of exterminated bodies. He turned toward Smoke. “I’m not sure if that’s sick or not.” Taking out a handkerchief, he blotted the bloody spot on his forehead. “Ow.”

  “I’m glad I don’t have to do all those reports like I used to,” Sid said to Cyrus. “This case is all yours.”

  “Oh, you’re still going to have to make a statement.” Cyrus faced Deanne. “And you are going away for a very long time.”

  Deanne stood hunched over, listless eyes on the floor. Her spark was gone. It was as if a shroud of death had fallen over her.

  “I bet she’s chock full of useful information about the Black Slate,” Sid said, still trying to catch a full breath. “Just don’t let her get a reduced sentence.”

  “I won’t.”

  An engine started up. Smoke was backing up the Drake van that was blocking the exit. “Hey, I’ve got shotgun!” he yelled out the window.

  “Okay, let’s load up, everyone,” Cyrus said. He shoved Winslow into the back seat of the car. “Rebecca,” he said, looking around. “Rebecca?”

  Blam!

  Sidney spun around. Rebecca had a gun pointed at Deanne. She intently watched the woman’s figure collapse on the floor. Deanne had a bullet in the back of her head. Her eyes were glassy. She was dead.

  “Rebecca!” Cyrus said, rushing over but showing some hesitation. “What have you done?”

  Sidney found the woman’s next statement eerie. With a bit of a deranged look in her eye, Rebecca said, “She’s a murderer. All murderers must die.”

  CHAPTER 39

  Back inside FBI headquarters, Sidney sat in the lobby just outside Ted Howard’s old office. Smoke sat on the opposite end of the contemporary orange sofa, leaning back with one leg crossed over the other, reading a law enforcement magazine. Across from him was Ted’s secretary, Jane, pecking away at the keyboard. She looked stunning as usual, but her posture was stooped a little. Sid noticed a box of tissues on her desk where there had never been one before. Not ever.

  I miss Ted.

  Inside Ted’s office, an occasional outburst caught Sid’s ear. The offices were well insulated, but nothing did well to muffle raised voices. Sid had already been sitting there for more than thirty minutes, and Smoke had already been there when she came. He wore work boots, jeans, and a black T-shirt with a white dragon logo on it. All they did was say hi. She hadn’t seen him since they left Mallows Bay, and that had been two days ago. She glanced at the nameplate on the office door for the twentieth time. She rubbed her swollen hands.

  Cyrus Tweel. Interim Section Chief.

  It gnawed at her gut. She could have been a section chief one day. She’d often thought about it. It was just part of the natural progression of the career path. But she wouldn’t have wanted it under these circumstances. Still, that was how things happened sometimes. Usually people moved on. Sometimes they just died. In the case of Ted, he’d been murdered. She couldn’t help but think there was a greater design to it. Deanne had made a strong hint about it. Now Cyrus was in place. Her eyes glided over to Smoke.

  How can he always be so relaxed? He’s going back to prison.

  He looked over, and his face lit up in a pleasant expression. He turned back to his magazine. He’d made a confession to her. A deep one. She’d rejected it without any kind of good reason. “Love isn’t a convenience. It’s a commitment.” That’s what her mother Sally always said. Sid wanted Smoke, though. At least she thought she did, but she resisted. Every time he went back into the system, it tore her up a little more. She wasn’t being selfish. She just couldn’t commit to that. She scooted over toward him.

  �
�Hi,” she said.

  He put the magazine down. “Hey, Sid, what’s up?”

  “Something’s been eating at me.”

  His handsome, dark eyes widened a little.

  She continued. “How’d you wind up in the trunk?”

  His brightness dimmed. “I’m a hero. I had to be where I had to be.”

  “Huh,” she said. “So, you’re a hero. Sure, I guess I should have known that. Makes perfect sense. We’re all about to die and you pop up out of the trunk like a jack-in-the-box.”

  “More like a Smoke-in-the-box,” he corrected.

  “Maybe more like a jack-ass-in-the-box.”

  Jane stopped typing.

  Smoke bobbed his chin. “If you say so.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, that wasn’t right. I just—”

  Ted’s office door popped open. Rebecca, dressed in a skinny business suit and high heels, exited. Her cheeks were flushed red. She glared at Smoke and Sid as she stormed by.

  I hope that psycho got what she deserved. The electric chair, perhaps. Bzzt!

  Cyrus stuck his head out. His entire forehead had a white bandage taped over it. “Come on in, you two.”

  Inside they went, and Cyrus closed the door behind them. “Have a seat.”

  One of the three chairs in front of the desk was already filled. A man sat in the chair on the right. He was older, wrinkle faced, with soft brown hair and wearing a light-grey suit. His eyes were saggy but with a deep intelligence behind them. He held out a pack of Big Red gum. “Help yourself,” he said in an old, Southern voice.

  “No thanks,” Sid said, holding up her hand. She took the middle chair.

  “Sure,” Smoke said, taking a stick.

  “I’m Leroy Sullivan. One of the them in they.” He unwrapped a piece of gum and stuck it in his mouth. He placed the pack in his jacket pocket, revealing an early model 1911 pistol. An old Army issue. “We are impressed. With both of you.”

  He didn’t say anything after that. He just stared at them, back and forth, with soft blue eyes.

  Sidney felt like a schoolgirl on pins and needles. She rubbed her hands on her thighs. She jutted her chin out and said, “Thank you?”

  “Heh,” Leroy said. “Well, keep up the good work. I’ll be in touch.” He pushed himself out of his chair and extended his hand to Sid.

  She shook it. His grip was gentle but with iron behind it.

  Leroy shook Smoke’s hand after hers, gave Cyrus a nod, and departed the room.

  Sidney stiffened at Cyrus. “What was that?”

  “One of the most powerful people in Washington, DC,” Cyrus said. He gave a little shrug. “I think. Anyway,” he pulled out a black file thicker than a Bible and dropped it on the desk, “he’s one of the men behind the Black Slate.” He nodded his chin. “Seems like there’s an awful lot of people on the Black Slate.”

  “So …” she said.

  “They still want you on as a liaison.” His eyes drifted up at Smoke. He rubbed his chin. “And you, too.”

  There was an awkward pause after that. Then Cyrus produced another document and slid it over the desk to Smoke. “And you can’t be both a liaison and a prisoner.”

  Smoke picked up the paper and started to read. Sid leaned over to see it, but Smoke turned away. “I’m pardoned.” He glanced up at Cyrus. “A free man?”

  Cyrus nodded. “Just don’t go on any big vacations. Either of you. We’ll be in touch.”

  “But I haven’t agreed to anything,” Sidney said. She was still thinking about Megan.

  “You’ll agree. Now get out of here. We’ll sort out all the details later. I’ve got another meeting at three.” He glared at them. “Adios.”

  Smoke and Sid made it all the way out into the parking lot without saying a word. She swore there was a little bounce in his step. Maybe there was in hers, too, and her heart was racing. Smoke was free.

  Inside the parking garage, they both stopped behind her rental car.

  “I guess I’ll see you around,” Smoke said. He fingered one of the bullet holes in the quarter panel. “I hope you got the damage waiver.”

  Sid draped her long arms over his neck and said, “Shut up and kiss me.”

  He took her by the waist and pulled her lips up to his, and they both settled in for a long, passionate kiss.

  Epilogue

  It was dinnertime a day later. Sid, Smoke, and Megan were at another one of Smoke’s chosen diners. Megan was all smiles from ear to ear. The entire table was filled with food. Greasy hamburgers that half soaked the bun. Chocolate milkshakes in tall glasses with whipped cream and a cherry on top. Megan had whipped cream on her nose, and Sid was laughing. Smoke stuck his nose in his. Megan cracked up.

  “You two need to stop it,” Sid said, wiping off Megan’s nose. “You’re supposed to eat it, not wear it.”

  Megan giggled. Sidney’s heart swelled. She hadn’t had a moment like this for as long as she could remember. Still, she was a little stressed about how things with the Black Slate would work out. She thought of an older classic rock song she had heard earlier in the day. “Love Will Find a Way.” She gave Megan a hug. She felt like she had everything she needed.

  And then the tiny bell over the door to the restaurant rang.

  A moment later, the conversation inside the diner fell silent.

  Sid lifted her head.

  Smoke turned and looked over his shoulder.

  A woman stood in the aisle. She was stunning from head to toe. Her blonde hair was shoulder length and exquisite. A tight celery-green dress accentuated every curve. Jewels adorned her neck and fingers. Bright and tasteful. With a smoldering look, the confident woman approached, dropping every man’s jaw.

  Megan stood up on her seat and said, “Mommy! Mommy!” She jumped over Sid’s lap and rushed into the woman’s arms.

  Sidney’s heart dropped. She whispered in astonishment, “Allison?”

  Allison hugged her daughter tight and kissed the little girl on the cheek. “Oh, I missed you, baby. I’m taking you home.”

  “Yay! I missed you too, Mommy!”

  Sid’s throat tightened. This wasn’t the same Allison she’d grown up with. No, this woman was different. She had an air. A renewed confidence. A swagger very much like what she’d encountered with everyone from the Drake. Monsters and all.

  Smoke and Mirrors: Book 5

  The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files

  CHAPTER 1

  Sidney covered her nose with one hand and held her Glock in the other. A small beam of light shot out from a gadget mounted on top of the gun’s barrel. Her feet sloshed through the muck inside the dark sewage tunnel. “There’s got to be a better way to make a living.”

  “You wouldn’t have it any other way,” Smoke said. He walked step-for-step behind her, a shadowy protector with a pump-action shotgun in his hands. “Plus, it’s good for the ole ticker. Keeps you from getting fat too.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she said, easing around the next bend in the tunnel.

  “Just an expression.”

  “From where?”

  “Somewhere.”

  Four months had passed since they took down Deanne Drukker at Mallows Bay. Allison and Megan had vanished. Sid hadn’t slept well since. Now she was stuck in a sewer pipe hunting down another criminal on the Black Slate. She felt a tug on her arm and turned.

  Smoke had a finger to his lips and was pointing at the light on her gun.

  She turned the beam off, leaving only the two of them in the blackness. Reaching out her hand, she found his chest. His heart pounded slow and steady under her palm. Smoke was never in a rush. Never panicked. Her breathing eased.

  With his soft breath on her ear, he whispered, “Listen.”

  The past few months with Smoke had been nothing short of odd. All business for the most part. A little pleasure in between. A strange platonic romance that neither one of them seemed to have figured out yet.

  Footfalls splashed and echoed throu
gh the waters somewhere nearby.

  Smoke took her hand and guided her deeper into the network of tunnels.

  She followed.

  This wasn’t their first rodeo. Just in the last few months there had been several others, but not from the Black Slate. Instead, they’d hauled in local criminals. Thugs. Bail jumpers.

  Smoke called it ‘easy money’.

  She’d learned a few more things about Smoke that she’d never had time to notice before. He had instincts. He did things. Extraordinary things that she hadn’t figured out yet, but she liked it.

  Trying to ignore the stench, she followed along, one grime-soaked step after the other. She slipped and caught herself by grabbing one of Smoke’s jean loops.

  “This isn’t the place for that.”

  “Hah, hah,” she said, still keeping her voice low. “But I’d say our chances here are as likely as anywhere else.”

  Smoke didn’t respond to her quip. Instead, his strong frame came to a stop.

  Ahead, something soft scurried in the ankle-deep waters, sending chills down her spine. Swallowing hard, she aimed her gun barrel toward the sound.

  “Easy,” Smoke whispered.

  The new mark on the Black Slate was just as trying as all the others. His name was Swift Venison. It was one of the stupidest names she’d ever heard. The man behind the name, a pale-faced rat of a man, was the definition of sinister. Six FBI agents had died at his hands over a month ago. That didn’t count all of the innocents who had perished in his bloody wake, either.

  It hadn’t taken long for Sid and Smoke to catch up with the man in a frumpy diner. However, he had scurried away like a rat as soon as Smoke put a gun to his head. The man was fast, impossibly quick, and a street race on foot had led them down into these sewers.