A Hunter Born (Hired Hunters Series Book 1)
Page 1
A Hunter Born
Hired Hunters Series
Book 1
Kimberly Forrest
The supernatural world is on the precipice of war. It’s time to choose a side.
She’s no damsel in distress…
Morgan Rhys is a vampire who hunts vampires. A hired hunter. When she and her team are contracted to investigate a vampire that’s suspected of being behind the murder of innocent witches, Morgan knows they’ll have to stay focused. This vampire is powerful, blood-thirsty, and his actions have put them on the verge of war. Too bad the handsome, human cop also on the case is messing with her senses.
He’s no knight in shining armor…
To the world, Travis St. John is a human cop, and that’s exactly what he needs them to think – for now. He knows that the vampire leader in this area is behind the disappearance of his sister, he just hasn’t been able to get close enough to do anything about it. Morgan Rhys may be the key to getting inside, and it certainly doesn’t hurt that the Hunter attracts him like no other. Too bad their kinds are mortal enemies.
In a dangerous game of predator versus predator, a common enemy emerges that threatens their very existence. Will they be able to stop him in time?
“A Hunter Born”
Selected, Compiled & Edited by Kimberly Forrest 2020
Copyright © March 2020 by Kimberly Forrest
This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Art by R.L Ortiz using images licensed under DepositPhotos.
Model photography by mtoome
Background by mandritoiu
Logo Background by kjolak
Table of Contents
Also by Kimberly Forrest
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
About The Author
Also by Kimberly Forrest
Also by Kimberly Forrest
The Malsum Pass Series
Malsum Pass
Until You: A Malsum Pass Novel
For Her: A Malsum Pass Novel
Meant To Be: A Malsum Pass Novel
Whole-Hearted: A Malsum Pass Novel
Small Moments: A Malsum Pass Novel
Soul Deep: A Malsum Pass Novel
Christmas in Malsum Pass: A Malsum Pass Novel
Fifty, Furred, and Fabulous!: A Malsum Pass Story
Misfits & Rogues Series
Tea with Monsters
Dinner with The Wolf
Chocolates from A Vampire
Brunch with An Angel
Hired Hunters Series
A Hunter Born
Coming Soon: A Hunter Turned
For Lance, who continues to astound me with his level of support. For my mother, who has never stopped believing in me, and for my readers that have stuck with me. I love you all.
Chapter One
New Jersey. The state often got a bad rap, but to Morgan Rhys, it was pretty much the same as any state she’d spent time in. Good parts, bad parts… Too bad she spent way too many hours in the worst parts. Like right now. The dark club her current prey had led her into throbbed with the bass of loud music, making her nerves twitch with agitation while laser lighting in shades of pink and purple illuminated just enough so that the patrons could witness the show that was being performed by half-naked humans dancing in gilded cages suspended from the ceiling.
Morgan rolled her eyes at one such human. A man, undulating his bare, oil-slicked torso to the beat with nothing covering his body but a rooster head mounted on his dick. Lovely. Oh, even better, he had bright red tail feathers sticking out of the crack of his ass. Shaking her head, she moved deeper into the gyrating crowd, opening her senses to locate her target.
Sweat, heavy perfumes and colognes, body odor, stale beer comingling with the sweeter scents of liquors and fruit, as well as the musk of sex thanks to the more hedonistic couples barely concealed from her vampire eyes as they pumped away with abandon in dark corners.
She pushed aside all of that top-layer distraction and dug deeper. Yes, the scent of blood and vampires – several vampires in fact, and Morgan couldn’t help but wonder if the humans performing in the cages knew what kind of clientele they were entertaining and that they were inciting more than sexual lust from some of those patrons. Not that it mattered. What happened in the club after she left was none of her business. She was here for one specific vamp and one vamp only.
John Gibson, blond, hazel eyes, just shy of six feet tall, burly build, thirty-two in appearance, forty-eight years turned, in breach of contract to the Born that held Pennsylvania. A runaway who had abandoned his position three weeks ago and who Morgan had received a hefty down payment to track down, and track him down she had.
It had taken her a little longer than expected. Most vamps that make a run for it head straight back to their past and the human lives they were supposed to have left behind when they signed their contract to be turned. Whether to see what had become of everyone they had once known, or perhaps to reconnect with their mortality, Morgan didn’t know having never been mortal herself, but it was always her starting point. John Gibson, however, didn’t fall into the majority. He obviously hadn’t run because of some sudden nostalgia-driven depression. Nope. John Gibson hadn’t been looking for the farmlands he’d grown up on in the Midwest. He’d been looking for a non-stop party and Jersey had been his destination.
She’d tracked him this far with the help of her team, had been following him all evening, waiting for the right moment to snatch the bastard where human eyes wouldn’t witness what was sure to be a beat-down that would have them calling the cops, especially since Morgan was pumped for a fight and her targets rarely came quietly. Crowds were a hindrance. She hated crowds while John Gibson apparently loved them.
A body ran hard into Morgan’s side and she had to resist the urge to bare her fangs in a snarl as she pushed the woman that reeked of stale cigarette smoke, cherries, and Southern Comfort away from her. Shit. Ten more minutes of this and her target would be lucky if she didn’t kill him outright for putting her in the middle of this cluster fuck.
Of course, then she wouldn’t get paid. This job wasn’t a kill order but rather a retrieval mission. Gibson had one-hundred and fifty-two years of service left on his contract and the Born that held said contract expected those years to be fulfilled. By any means necessary. Thus, why she’d been hired. Her team was the best of the Hunters for hire available to the Born, a race of natural vampires created
at the dawn of humanity when demons had impregnated human women before being forcefully evicted from the mortal realm. The Born were immortal, fast, strong, and among some other neat little party tricks, the Born could walk in sunlight, unlike the humans they turned into vampires. Morgan was one of the Born, a descendant of one of those original demon-spawned children, so if her target led her on a merry chase until the dawn, she wouldn’t much care despite rather being anywhere but here. Gibson would have to find cover from the sun, whereas she was perfectly able to drag his ass out of whatever hole in the wall he’d been hiding in and deliver him back to his master. Gibson might be a little worse for wear from the experience, but he’d be alive and she’d get the remainder of the bounty due her. Win.
Honing in on a particularly large cluster of vamps at a corner table, Morgan made her approach, sticking close to the black painted cinderblock wall to avoid the dancers that seemed to move in an undulating wave to the rhythm of the music. Unfortunately, her target was seated in the middle of the U-shaped booth. Of course, she could just use the quite satisfying, yet less people-friendly sledgehammer approach and start pulling the other vamps out by their hair and tossing them aside until she had Gibson shackled, but causing a scene in front of drunken humans that might intercede – no matter how fun it might be – could only lead to more problems.
“Gentleman,” Morgan drawled, ignoring the two scantily dressed human women at the table that were currently being fed upon, their glassy, half-lidded eyes not even moving in Morgan’s direction as she leaned a hip casually against their table and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m afraid Gibson needs to come with me.”
Hoots of laughter greeted her statement as well as commentary that made Morgan want to roll her eyes. Things like, “Are you part of the show?”, “Come here and give us a dance, honey.”, and “Johnny-Boy here isn’t packing what you need, darling.”
Strongly reconsidering her decision in using the nicey-nice approach, Morgan shot them all a wide smile that showed off her fangs before she pulled back one side of her leather jacket to reveal one of the pair of Sigs she was packing as well as the hilts of several daggers.
The mad scramble that ensued was expected, though no less amusing, and since Gibson had been trapped in the middle, it was child’s play to latch onto him as he attempted to make his escape and march him toward a rear exit. The door hadn’t even fully clicked shut behind them before the fool twisted in her grip and threw the first punch.
Morgan easily evaded his attack and smiled, delighted that her target wasn’t going to come meekly. Two hard, fast hits to the mouth and the guy’s head wobbled drunkenly on his neck, his eyes looking slightly crossed before he smiled with a mouthful of bloody teeth and fangs to slur, “My mother hits harder than that, bitch.”
The last word had barely cleared his lips when Morgan delivered another sharp jab to shut him up. The punch knocked him out and she let him drop to the wet pavement of the alley to secure the specially made shackles around wrists she’d tugged none too gently behind his back. Unlike standard handcuffs, these babies weren’t breaking for either Turned or Born.
Morgan was just about to call her team to let them know that she had the target in hand and request a pickup when her phone rang. Connecting the call, she didn’t even have a chance to utter a greeting before her tech wiz, Jamie announced, “We’ve got a problem.”
“The hell we do. I’ve got him tagged and bagged, get your asses here.”
“An order just came down from the Elders,” Jamie informed her, the tension in the woman’s voice audible. “All Hunters currently operating in New York or the bordering states are to immediately vacate the area and consider all outstanding retrieval contracts for those areas null and void. They’re even pulling Hunters off the Canadian border.”
What the fuck? The Court of Elders was the ruling body for vampires but they’d never interfered with Hunter business and especially not an order that would allow a safe haven for runaway vamps and rogues. “Why?”
“New York has fallen to the angels. It’s no longer under the Born’s control.”
Morgan’s breath locked up hard in her lungs. Thane Stroud was the Born that had governance over New York state. They had been lovers once, as well as friends, back before he’d taken control of New York when the territory had still been young and primarily wilderness. Thane had believed in her when she’d balked against the future her father had laid out for her and chose to carve her own destiny with the Hunters and while they may not have had many dealings with each other these past few centuries, a line had always been open, with the understanding that if one should ever need the other, they’d be there.
Swallowing hard, her voice was choked as she asked the question for which she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. “What of the Born that held New York? Stroud?”
“Nothing official,” was Jamie’s clipped response. “But the chatter I’m picking up is that he’s presumed dead.”
Morgan swayed slightly and needed to lock her knees to keep from ending up on the pavement next to her target.
“Are you okay, boss?”
No. She wasn’t, but she still had a job to do. She’d have plenty of time to grieve later. Giving her head a little shake, she blinked away the fog that had settled over her eyes and cleared her throat. “ETA on that pickup?”
“What about the order?”
“To hell with them. No way am I letting the Elders screw us out of money we’ve rightfully earned.”
“On it. Ten minutes.”
As Morgan disconnected the call, she must have still been reeling from the news of Thane’s death. Why else would her target have been able to take her by surprise, as he kicked out his leg and swept her feet out from under her?
Her ass hit the pavement hard as Gibson lurched awkwardly to his feet. With a curse, Morgan leaped upward with preternatural speed fully intending to cut the man off before he made good on his escape. In hindsight, she needn’t have bothered. Her target, hands still restrained behind his back, pinballed clumsily across the alley, bounced off of a dumpster, before running headlong into a wall and knocking himself out. Dumb shit.
With a disgusted sigh, Morgan strolled over and planted the rugged lugs of her boots on the back of Gibson’s neck. Perhaps pressing a bit harder than was absolutely necessary, but until her ass stopped hurting, she wasn’t going to take any chances as she waited for their ride.
Chapter Two
“I need a beer,” Morgan grumbled as she dumped Gibson in a corner of the motel room that had been home sweet home for her and her team during this latest hunt. A room currently littered with empty Chinese takeout containers, fast food bags, and pizza boxes – God, they were slobs. “Make that two,” she continued as she went to work shackling the man’s ankles before she rose and began to undo the too-tight French braid that had kept her hair contained while in the field.
She really should cut it. It would be a time-saver not to have to braid it so tightly to her skull before she went out on a mission. Her scalp would probably thank her. Hair in the face was a distraction and a simple ponytail wouldn’t cut it – would actually be an advantage to any of her targets should they be able to grab onto it in a fight, but despite her chosen lifestyle, which roughly ninety-nine percent of her kind would consider mannish and, as many had informed her, ‘unheard of – gasp’, she still had enough feminine vanity to hesitate every time she thought of chopping off her long, dark locks.
“We’re out of beer,” Kane Fletcher, the third member of their little team announced as he flopped into a chair and grabbed up a PS4 controller to resume his game in progress.
“What the hell?” Morgan barked, throwing him a glare despite him being too preoccupied with the onscreen explosions to notice. “Who’s turn was it to buy?”
“Yours,” both Kane and Jamie replied simultaneously.
“Wonderful,” Morgan grumbled.
“So,” Jamie hedged as the blonde vampire settled
down cross-legged in the middle of one of the room’s two double beds, her ever-present assortment of laptops and tablets close at hand, “this order that came down…”
Typical of the woman to want details. Her curiosity and need for answers were seemingly limitless. That little idiosyncrasy was why she had made such an excellent addition to Morgan’s team. Jamie could and would dig for every little bit of information she could get her hands on. In her human life, almost twenty years ago now, Jamie Wilson had been a hacker that had managed to put a rather large bee in the government’s bonnet thanks to her computer skills and that driving need of hers for information. She had, in fact, been facing a decidedly hefty prison term for that trouble before Morgan had stepped in with another option. They would fake her death, wipe the slate clean, and in return, Jamie would work for the Hunters doing exactly what she loved. The woman had embraced her new life as a vampire whole-heartedly.
“We’ll get this shit stain back to his Born, collect our payment, and be on our way. They don’t need to know that the order came down before we obtained him.”
“And if he won’t pay?”
Morgan shrugged, unconcerned. “He will.” The Born might be a clever bunch, quick to exploit a loophole or weakness, but pissing off a Hunter was a bad idea. One word from her, and the Born that attempted to stiff them would never be able to contract another team again – a risk that no leader with any sense would take as Hunters were a necessary commodity to maintain order in the vampire world.
Jamie nodded thoughtfully before she raised a finger and said, “I’m curious about the wording of the order – ‘New York has fallen to the angels’ – when they say angels, are we talking a gang of like motorcycle riding vampires that call themselves The Angels? Or…”