A Hunter Born (Hired Hunters Series Book 1)

by Kimberly Forrest

  And the award for best opening lines goes to… anyone but him. Letting out a self-deprecating noise, he shook his head and tried again. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

  If she was feeling discomfort caused by his proximity, she didn’t let on and he was reminded once more of how incredibly strong this female was. Her eyes were shining with happiness, her posture relaxed as she proceeded him through the door, and her tone was light as she announced, “Miss a chance to experience New Orleans with one of its own? No way.”

  The bar and grill he had chosen for their date was one of his favorites. The atmosphere was warm, the food was incredible, the entertainment provided by local musicians was always lively, and since it was a relatively slow time of year, a conversation could be easily shared. Ushering her into a green upholstered booth near the stained-glass window emblazoned with the restaurant’s name, Travis took the seat across from her. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starved.” Picking up the menus that stood between a napkin dispenser and an assortment of condiments, she handed him one. “What’s good here?”

  He’d barely listed off a couple of recommendations when a waitress greeted them with a smile and the night’s specials before taking their drink order and leaving them once more in privacy. He and Morgan exchanged the usual small talk, a bit of ‘get to know you’ conversation where she informed him that she and her friends were a team of private investigators currently on a mini-vacation. It was a cover story, he was sure, but considering what she, and most likely, her friends were, secrets were a part of their way of life.

  That said, her eyes had been direct, the pale blue shining with a wisdom beyond the years her physical appearance proclaimed her. Morgan Rhys was no fledgling Born fresh out of the schoolroom. He’d guess her to be well over a century old and at that moment, Travis decided to put aside as much of the subterfuge as he safely could and be frank.

  “I’ve looked into the man that owns that house where you’re staying. Olivier Rodolfo? He’s not a good person. In fact, he’s linked to several open investigations.”

  Her lips pinched slightly, but before she could say anything, the waitress returned with their drinks and asked them if they were ready to order. Their meal requests placed, Travis fully expected Morgan to change the subject. To his surprised delight, she picked up as if they hadn’t been interrupted.

  “He’s not a good man,” she readily agreed.

  He gave her a moment to elaborate. When she failed to offer more than that succinct opinion, he prompted, “Morgan, if you know anything about him, something we can use…”

  The flash of red in her eyes was only there for a second before it was gone, but it cut Travis’s words off midstream. He’d pissed her off – royally. Her words that followed only confirmed that suspicion as she narrowed her eyes and quietly hissed, “Is that what this date is about? You want information.”

  Shit. He’d insulted her, implied that he was with her tonight only for what he could get out of her and a guilty flush crawled up his neck. He was guilty, but not to the extreme she assumed. He liked her, at least what he’d learned of her so far and he was incredibly attracted to her – perhaps a bit too much considering what she was and whom she was currently staying with.

  “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to give you that idea. Truly. I worry about you staying under that man’s roof is all.”

  The smile she shot him was rife with condescension, and her eyes, while still blue rather than demonic red, sparkled with indignation. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

  He’d really stuck his foot in it. In fact, if she didn’t toss her drink in his face and storm out at any second he would consider himself lucky. Angry at himself, he blurted, “My sister thought the same thing.”

  Her face immediately changed to a mixture of concern and curiosity. “Your sister?”

  He hadn’t intended to tell Morgan about Sophia, not until he was one-hundred percent sure of the woman’s allegiance, but the words were out there now. Deciding to take the plunge rather than attempt to backpedal, Travis told her, “She disappeared five years ago.”

  “Rodolfo?”

  He nodded sharply. “I can’t prove it, but I know he had something to do with it.”

  In an unexpected show of sympathy – a trait the Born weren’t supposed to possess – Morgan reached across the table and took his hand in her own despite what the contact must have done to her senses. “I’m sorry.”

  Once again he admired her impressive strength. He continued to be surprised by her. She was of the Born, but unlike any he’d ever come across before, and nothing like the stories he’d heard growing up. Travis mentally shook himself. If he wasn’t careful, he could lose his heart to this vampire before he even knew what hit him.

  The waitress, bearing a tray of food, interrupted the moment but Morgan didn’t let go of Travis St. John’s hand, continuing to hold his calloused fingers with her own as plates were set before them. Her system must be becoming used to his proximity now, her body adjusting out of necessity. She still felt the heated rush of blood and the prickle over her flesh, but the sensations were now muted, tolerable, letting her focus on the heat of his skin and how such a simple act of compassion felt so incredibly satisfying.

  The man’s sister had gone missing and she wasn’t surprised he’d been unable to pin anything on Rodolfo. The Born had enough spies seeded through his territory, most likely within the police force as well, to stay ahead of any crimes they might try to charge him with. Precisely why the leader of the Order of Witches had decided against involving law enforcement. Was his sister’s disappearance related? It may have been five years ago, but that didn’t mean that Rodolfo hadn’t quietly been removing witches – or anyone that got in his way – the entire time and had only recently decided to up the game, leaving bodies in the streets.

  Clearing her throat, she asked carefully, “Was your sister a friend of Destin Jourdain?”

  His lovely light brown eyes flecked with gold narrowed in a perplexed frown. “Destin Jourdain?”

  She considered confiding in him that she and her team had been hired by the man to look into Rodolfo, when his next words, growled with enough animosity to have her pulling her hand away, confirmed her suspicions that Travis St. John was indeed part of the supernatural world. “What does the leader of the Order of Witches have to do with it?”

  His eyes had lightened to gold, the pupils doing something odd before he closed his lids over them and inhaled deeply. Realizing her mouth was open in awe, she clapped it quickly shut and took her own deep breath to calm her now jangling nerves. Was something burning?

  Travis opened his eyes again to reveal that they were back to their human color and Morgan could no longer stand not knowing. Leaning forward, she whispered, “You’re an angel, aren’t you?”

  At his look of surprise, she quickly assured him, “It’s okay. I won’t say a word. A friend of mine gave me the heads up that some of the angels had crossed over from their realm and are now residing on this side.”

  He opened his mouth in preparation to respond, only to snap it shut as his spine stiffened before he growled, “We’re about to have company from one of your kind.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Company from one of her kind? Was Rodolfo in the vicinity? The male never left the safety of his stronghold. Shit. If the Born were about to make an appearance, as stiffly as St. John was holding himself, she wouldn’t be at all surprised if her angel struck Olivier Rodolfo down in full view of the other patrons of the restaurant.

  Preparing to intervene should it become necessary, Morgan braced for disaster and kept a wary eye on the door. A moment later, Kane swaggered through with Jamie at his side. Her relief was instantaneous and extremely short-lived. With Kane’s senses not being as acute as Morgan’s, he hadn’t previously experienced the odd sensation of an angel within their midst. Only now in this closer proximity was he feeling that sudden rush to att
ack. His eyes flashed red and his lips peeled back from his elongated fangs in a predatory snarl that would have been witnessed by all had it not been for Jamie’s quick thinking.

  The Turned vampire launched herself into Kane’s arms, yanked his head down to her shoulder by the hair as she wrapped her legs around his waist and shouted, “Yes, I’ll marry you!”

  The restaurant erupted with cheers, excited hoots, and the musicians broke into a fast-paced, jazzy rendition of “Here Comes the Bride”.

  Morgan couldn’t help but chuckle despite her wariness that any moment Kane might yet expose them. “My team,” she murmured to Travis by way of explanation as she got up from her seat to go to them.

  “What are you guys doing here?” she quietly hissed, patting both of them rather sharply on the back in a show of annoyance that others would see as congratulations.

  Still clinging to Kane like a spider monkey, Jamie shot Morgan a sheepish grin as she continued to hold her teammate’s head down. “I tracked your phone. We wanted to meet your mystery man.” Rolling her eyes, she delivered a solid whack to Kane’s bicep as he began to growl. “We weren’t expecting this.”

  Her voice at a level inaudible to human ears, Morgan told Kane, “Control it or leave. Now.”

  She heard his deep inhalation that did nothing to alleviate the tension in the muscles of his back before he lifted his head despite Jamie’s restraining hand, and nodded. “I’ve got it,” he said, and then added with a look of amazement at Morgan, “How can you stand it?”

  “You get used to it,” she told him. What had it taken for her? Four meetings before she felt she could fully control her instincts? “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

  Standing beside the table, Morgan made the introductions and while Jamie pumped Travis St. John’s hand with unabashed enthusiasm, Kane kept his distance, giving the man only a stiff nod of acknowledgment.

  “You needn’t worry we’re going to interrupt your date more than we already have,” Jamie assured Travis with a bright grin. “We just needed to ascertain for ourselves that our girl was in good hands.”

  Travis returned her smile. “And do I pass inspection?”

  The blonde rocked back on her heels slightly, her finger coming to her mouth in mock contemplation as she looked Morgan’s date over. “You’ve got my vote,” she announced, the grin returning to her face before she looked at Morgan. “We’re going to go see if anyone is foolish enough to try their hand at drunk darts. Have fun.” Grabbing up Kane’s arm, she propelled them both toward the back of the restaurant where there were a few electronic dartboards set up against the wall.

  Still smiling at her team’s antics, Morgan settled once more into her seat as Travis asked, “Drunk darts?”

  “We have a high tolerance when it comes to alcohol but those two nuts will pretend they’re drunk, stagger around, slur their words and then hustle some unsuspecting person out of their money in a game of darts.”

  Feeling a sense of relief in not having to watch her words constantly, Morgan relished the idea of being open with Travis, being able to satisfy her curiosity without the use of doublespeak. “Tell me. Why did Jamie not seem to be affected by you the way Kane and I are?”

  Travis shrugged, taking a sip from his beer. “We’re natural enemies, my kind and the Born. Turned vampires are different. They may feel a sense of foreboding or danger that has them deciding to walk the other way, but for the Born, from what I understand, we really kick your fight or flight instinct into high gear.”

  Morgan nodded, the words making complete sense. With a flirtatious smile and a tip of her head, she asked, “Are we enemies?”

  Travis grinned, exposing that adorable dimple in his cheek. “Are you going to kick my ass?”

  “Not tonight,” she returned.

  “Then we’re not enemies.”

  For a few moments, they both focused on their dinners that were rapidly cooling, Morgan feeling inordinately pleased with how well things were going.

  “Now, tell me about Destin Jourdain,” Travis said, bringing the conversation back around to before they were interrupted by her friends.

  Deciding to bring him into the loop, Morgan filled him in on what she and her team really were and the true reason they had come to New Orleans before she offered, “We could help each other. Jamie is the best at what she does. If there’s something about your sister in Rodolfo’s computer files, she’ll find it.”

  The look of relief on his face was instantaneous, his eyes sparkling with hope. This time, he was the one to reach out and take her hand. “And I’ll help you with any leads I can pick up on the street about the killings.”

  The warm weight of his palm was satisfying, and the realization finally struck that sitting before her was no human that could be easily damaged by her superior strength. Here was a male that she was incredibly attracted to, who knew what she was, and was most likely as strong or stronger than she. A hot flush of arousal suddenly left her breathless as mental images of what she had originally deemed an unreachable fantasy filled her head. She could have him. Licking her lips, she gazed upon the rugged handsomeness of his face and asked, “Do you want to get out of here?”

  ∞∞∞

  The punch of his erection against his fly was immediate. His nostrils flared as he scented her arousal and he had to swallow back the low rumble of a growl before he ended up scaring the nearby patrons. Rising from his seat too fast in his eagerness, Travis bumped the table and succeeded in rattling their glasses and sloshing their drinks. If Morgan noticed his clumsiness, she didn’t comment, already out of her own seat and reaching once more for his hand to lead him out of the restaurant as he tossed more than enough money down on the table to cover their bill.

  Should he take her to his place? Would she prefer a hotel? He certainly couldn’t go back to Rodolfo’s with her, he’d never be allowed inside. Morgan solved the problem with a breathless, “Your place?” followed by, “You drive.”

  They were in his truck within moments and a shred of sanity invaded – or perhaps insanity would be a better word considering the painful state of his arousal – and had him asking, “You and Kane? You guys aren’t –”

  “No. Never. He’s part of my team and a good friend. That’s all.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief that did nothing to alleviate the hot tension caused by the amazing woman next to him, Travis attempted to focus on the road before he mowed over some unsuspecting pedestrian in his preoccupation.

  “That reminds me,” Morgan said, her tone losing the breathless quality of mere seconds before. “The first night I arrived, I saw you on Bourbon Street. You were with a woman and a little girl.”

  Travis drew a complete blank for a second, and in his hesitation, Morgan continued, a slight bite to her tone. “The scene looked quite cozy, and I have to tell you, I’m not one to trespass.”

  Glancing over, he saw that she had turned in her seat to look fully at him, her expression set, one sable brow lifted in expectation. “I’m not with anyone,” he assured her, still trying to recall who he had been speaking with when he’d first sensed the presence of a Born the other night. Luckily, some of the blood that had obviously left his brain on a southerly journey to his pants returned and he remembered. “Oh! You’re talking about Marie and her daughter. Marie’s husband, Billy is on the force with me.”

  Morgan was quiet for a moment and a quick glance revealed that she looked deep in thought, a frown on her face. His erection deflated. Was she regretting her decision? Had she reconsidered? “I can take you back to your vehicle if you’ve changed your mind, or we can go somewhere else. Jackson Square, maybe? See some art?”

  He wasn’t sure she’d even heard his question as she said in a distant voice, “I remember the women coming to confront my mother, accusing her of being a homewrecker and the way she would laugh in their faces, telling them that if they had any clue how to satisfy their men, their husbands wouldn’t have been sniffing around her.”


  “That had to have been tough,” Travis said, frowning at the information, imagining the callousness of the woman Morgan had just described. “And your father?”

  Waving her hand, she let out a little huff of air. “He didn’t care what his wife got up to as long as she didn’t pester him with her nonsense.”

  That last bit was said in a gruff imitation of a masculine voice, leaving Travis with the impression that it was a phrase Morgan had heard her father say often. Feeling the need to console her, he reached for her hand and she didn’t push him away, but rather, gripped his fingers in response to his murmured, “I’m sorry.”

  He’d heard plenty of stories about the Born. Their cold calculation and hunger for power, their cruelty, their inability to feel remorse, compassion, or love. Morgan Rhys had shown him that not all of them fit that mold, but how she had managed to escape her fate with parents like hers, he had no idea, which prompted the observation, “You are so different from what I know of the Born.”

  Morgan nodded. “There are a few of us.” Shaking her head she released a humorless chuckle. “Oddballs, outcasts, and rejects that we are, we’re out there.”

  Travis grinned. “I’ve always had a thing for oddballs.”

  She returned his smile for a moment before she frowned and then turned a bit sheepish. “I killed the mood, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

  Squeezing her fingers, his response was immediate and heartfelt, “Nothing to be sorry for. I like just talking with you and getting to know you better.”

  His words must have pleased her, her cheeks pinkening slightly with pleasure before she glanced back through the windshield and frowned. “How far away do you live?”

  Travis shrugged. “We passed it a while back but I didn’t want to presume.”