Deadly Pursuit (A Blood Hunter Novel, #2) (28 page)

Jon
nodded.
“Deke.”

“Jon.
What
a
lovely
surprise.”
The
tone
was
so
insincere
it
set
Jon’s
teeth
on
edge.

His
own
smile
was
equally
insincere.
“It’s
a
pleasure
to
be
here.”

“Actually,
I’d
heard
you
were
heading
for
the
Meridian
mines.
Not
that
it
isn’t
great
to
see
you.”
He
waved
a
hand
at
Rico.
“Are
you
going
to
introduce
your
friend?”

“He’s
not
my
friend,
and
no,
I’m
not
going
to
introduce
him.”

Deke
had
the
good
sense
not
to
push.
“So
what
are
you
doing
here?
You
looking
for
work?”

“No.
I’m
looking
for
information.”

“Jon,
please.”
Deke
sounded
pained.
“You’re
a
friend,
but
you
know
that’s
not
the
way
it
works.”

Jon
stifled
his
urge
to
slam
his
fist
into
the
slimy
bastard’s
nose.
He
was
sure
he
would
get
a
chance
later.
“I
know,
unfortunately
my
new
acquaintance
here”—he
nodded
in
Rico’s
direction—“isn’t
so
understanding.”

Deke
cast
Rico
a
quick
glance
and
shrugged.
“I’d
get
no
work
if
I
went
around
giving
out
confidential
information
about
my
clients.”

“You’ll
get
no
work
if
you’re
dead
either,”
Rico
growled
and
took
a
pace
toward
the
desk.
Resting
his
hands
palms
down
on
the
metal,
he
leaned
in
close
and
his
lips
curled
to
reveal
his
fangs.

Deke
took
a
rapid
step
back.

The
scrape
of
laser
pistols
being
drawn
from
their
holsters
filled
the
room.
Jon
didn’t
turn
around,
and
he
didn’t
go
for
his
own
weapon.
It
would
be
hard
for
the
guards
to
shoot
without
risking
hitting
their
boss.

Deke
must
have
come
to
the
same
conclusion
because
he
waved
a
hand
at
the
guards
and
the
tension
in
the
room
lessened
slightly,
though
they
didn’t
reholster
their
weapons.
Jon
ignored
them.

Rico
straightened
and
stood
back
slightly,
arms
folded
across
his
chest.
He
was
good
at
this—knew
when
to
push
and
when
to
back
down.
It
occurred
to
Jon
the
vampire
might
be
useful
to
have
around.
If
it
wasn’t
for
the
fact
that
Jon
always
worked
alone.
And
the
fact
that
he
hated
vampires.

Deke
lowered
himself
into
his
seat.
“I
suppose
I
might
be
able
to
find
out
something
for
you.
You
know
what?
Why
don’t
you
go
see
the
sights,
get
laid,
and
come
back
in
a
couple
of
hours.
I’m
sure
I’ll
have
what
you
need
then.”

And
Jon
was
equally
sure
Deke
would
be
so
far
gone
from
here
they
would
never
find
him
again.

“Sorry,
Deke,
but
Rico
here”—he
gestured
to
the
vampire—“has
taken
a
vow
of
chastity.
We
wouldn’t
want
to
put
him
in
temptation’s
way,
now
would
we?
So
why
don’t
you
tell
us
what
you
do
know
right
now,
and
we’ll
be
on
our
way.”

Deke
pursed
his
lips
and
nodded
once.
“What
do
you
want
to
know?”

The
ease
of
his
capitulation
confirmed
Jon’s
suspicions
that
all
he
was
likely
to
hear
from
Deke
was
a
load
of
crap.
Still
he’d
keep
up
the
act
for
now—he
was
interested
in
just
how
gullible
Deke
believed
him
to
be.
“The
last
job
I
did.
The
one
that
ended
up
with
me
on
my
way
to
the
Meridian
mines.
I
want
to
know
who
set
it
up.”

“I
don’t—”

Rico
stepped
forward
again
and
alarm
flared
in
Deke’s
eyes.

“Call
him
off,”
Deke
said.
“I
was
going
to
say
I
don’t
have
a
name,
but
I
do
know
who
was
behind
it.”

Jon
bit
back
his
impatience.
“So
could
you
tell
us?
Preferably
sometime
this
year.”

Deke
licked
his
lips.
“It
was
the
Rebel
Coalition.
I
recognized
the
man
who
met
with
me.”

Jon
frowned.
Not
that
he
didn’t
believe
the
Coalition
would
have
wanted
Ross
dead.

The
Rebel
Coalition
had
grown
up
in
the
aftermath
of
the
Church’s
Purge,
which
had
seen
millions
of
GMs
slaughtered.
Most
of
the
rebels
were
GMs
themselves
and
had
lost
friends
and
family,
and
they
now
dedicated
themselves
to
destroying
the
Church
of
Everlasting
Life
and
its
followers.

They
had
no
argument
with
the
Collective,
but
Aiden
Ross
had
been
a
staunch
advocate
of
the
Church,
and
a
supporter
of
some
of
its
more
radical
activities.
By
eliminating
him,
the
rebels
would
discourage
any
future
collaboration.

Jon
had
done
a
lot
of
background
research
into
Aiden
Ross
after
he
had
taken
on
the
job.
He
liked
to
know
as
much
as
possible
about
the
people
he
was
paid
to
kill.
It
helped
in
setting
up
the
job
and
usually
made
him
feel
a
whole
lot
better
as
he’d
never
yet
researched
a
target
without
coming
to
the
conclusion
that
the
world
would
be
a
better
place
with
that
particular
person
dead.

No,
it
wasn’t
that
he
doubted
the
Coalition
would
have
set
up
the
job.
Jon
just
couldn’t
see
a
reason
why
they
would
have
betrayed
him
afterward,
and
why
there
weren’t
comms
flooding
the
waves
taking
credit
for
Ross’s
death.
But
there
was
nothing.
And
how
would
anyone
in
the
Coalition
have
known
how
to
kill
a
member
of
the
Collective?
Even
Skylar
claimed
she
didn’t
know.

All
of
which
meant
Deke
was
lying
his
weasely
head
off.

Deke
was
supposed
to
be
the
middleman
who
stood
between
Jon
and
his
clients.
If
Deke
had
done
his
job,
no
one
should
have
known
Jon’s
identity.
But
they
had
known.
The
only
way
they
could
have
caught
him
after
he’d
done
the
job
was
if
they’d
been
following
him.
And
the
only
way
they
could
have
known
to
do
that
was
if
Deke
had
told
them.

Jon
considered
his
options.
Maybe
they
could
take
the
guards,
and
part
of
him
wanted
to
try.
But
the
rest
of
him
knew
there
was
a
good
chance
that
Deke
would
get
hit
in
the
crossfire,
and
he
needed
Deke
alive.
He
forced
his
muscles
to
relax
and
curved
his
lips
into
the
semblance
of
a
smile.
“Thanks,
Deke.
That
wasn’t
so
hard,
was
it?”

Deke’s
eyes
remained
wary
as
though
he
didn’t
quite
believe
Jon
was
accepting
his
story,
which
wasn’t
surprising.
Jon
had
hardly
come
across
as
a
half-wit
in
their
past
negotiations.
But
when
Jon
remained
smiling,
Deke
relaxed.

“Just
don’t
tell
anyone
where
the
information
came
from
or
my
reputation
will
be
worth
shit.”

“Would
I
do
that
to
an
old
friend?”
Jon
murmured.
He
turned
to
Rico.
“Come
on,
we
have
what
we
need.
Let’s
get
out
of
here
and
after
those
rebel
bastards.”

Rico’s
eyes
narrowed,
and
he
glanced
from
Jon
to
Deke
as
though
he
suspected
something.
Then
he
shrugged.
“Okay.”

Jon
led
the
way
out
of
the
office,
through
the
bar,
and
into
the
cacophony
of
the
street.
He
winced
as
the
noise
assaulted
his
eardrums.
They
stood
for
a
moment
surveying
the
scene
as
the
river
of
people
divided
around
them.

“A
vow
of
chastity?”
Rico
shuddered.
“Well,
that
was
easy.”

“Too
easy,
and
a
load
of
bollocks.”

“So
why
did
we
leave?”
Rico
asked.

“I
didn’t
want
Deke
getting
hit
if
the
lasers
started
going
off.
So
we
need
to
draw
the
guards
away,
then
get
Deke
alone.”

“You
think
they’ll
come
after
us?”

“I
know
they
will.
Deke
wouldn’t
risk
a
fight
in
his
office
where
there’s
a
chance
he
might
actually
get
hurt,
but
he’s
a
greedy
bastard—he’ll
want
that
reward.
So
yeah,
they’ll
come
after
us.”

Jon
searched
the
streets
around
him.
They
were
on
the
main
thoroughfare
of
the
city.
The
road
was
wide,
but
every
few
hundred
feet
a
narrower
road
would
break
off.
These
were
well
lit
with
gaudy
signs
advertising
all
manner
of
pleasures.
He
passed
another
flashing
picture
of
Al
and
scowled.
They
were
everywhere.

“Come
on.”
The
sooner
they
got
this
over
with
the
sooner
they’d
get
back.
And
Jon
would
feel
happier
with
Rico
keeping
an
eye
on
that
piece
of
shit,
Bastion.

He
led
Rico
down
one
of
the
side
streets,
then
into
a
narrower
alley
until
finally
they
left
the
bright
lights
behind.

“Are
you
planning
to
tell
me
why
we’re
here?
Wherever
here
is,”
Rico
said.

“Because
I
want
to
give
the
guys
following
us
a
chance
to
catch
us.”

“I
didn’t
think
you’d
noticed
them.”

“I
hadn’t.
But
I
know
Deke.”

This
particular
alley
was
a
dead
end,
with
tall
buildings
surrounding
them
and
muting
the
sounds
of
the
city.
Jon
turned
and
faced
the
rectangle
of
light
at
the
entrance.

“Can
we
get
this
over
with
fast?”
Rico
said.
“This
place
stinks.”

He
was
right.
The
stench
was
rank—as
though
something,
maybe
lots
of
things,
had
crawled
into
the
alley
to
die.
“As
fast
as
I
can.”

As
he
watched,
figures
detached
themselves
from
the
shadows.
He
counted
six,
and
he
glanced
at
Rico.
In
the
dim
light,
the
vampire’s
dark
eyes
gleamed
with
anticipation.

“You
want
to
run
for
it?”
Jon
challenged.

Chapter
Seven

Rico
cast
him
a
look
of
pure
amazement.
“For
fuck’s
sake—there’s
only
six
of
them.”

Inside,
Jon
could
feel
the
buildup
of
his
own
anticipation—his
nerves
strung
like
a
taut
wire,
and
he
forced
himself
to
concentrate.
“We
need
to
take
one
of
them
alive.”

“I’ll
try
and
remember
that.”

The
men
came
at
them
like
an
arrow.
A
stocky,
bald
one
in
the
center,
clearly
leading,
halted
three
feet
from
where
Jon
stood.
He
recognized
the
man
as
one
of
Deke’s
guards.

“Deke
would
prefer
you
alive.
So
why
don’t
you
come
along
without
a
fight,
and
no
one
will
get
hurt.”

“Is
he
for
real?”
Rico
asked.
“How
about,
we
stay,
we
fight,
and
all
of
you
get
hurt
bad?”
The
vampire
grinned
as
he
dragged
the
sword
from
the
scabbard
at
his
back.
The
blade
glinted
silver
in
the
subdued
light.

The
men
inched
closer
and
drew
their
laser
pistols,
so
Jon
thought
it
was
time
to
draw
his
own.
The
grip
felt
good
in
his
hand.
He
flipped
the
switch
from
stun
to
kill
and
stepped
away
from
the
sheltering
wall.
Without
conscious
thought,
he
found
himself
side
to
side
with
Rico.

He
studied
the
henchmen
carefully,
recognized
the
moment
of
resolve
in
the
leader’s
eyes,
saw
his
finger
tighten
on
the
trigger,
and
was
ready
when
the
first
blast
came
at
him.

He
blocked
the
shot
with
one
from
his
own
laser.
Then
they
were
coming
at
him
from
all
sides.

One
ventured
too
close
to
Rico’s
blade,
and
his
head
rolled
to
the
stinking
alley
floor.
Jon
took
the
leader
out
with
a
shot
to
the
chest
and
then,
for
endless
minutes,
chaos
surrounded
them.

It
took
him
a
while
to
realize
the
only
laser
still
shooting
was
his
own.

His
breathing
was
heavy,
but
more
from
the
adrenaline
running
through
his
system
than
from
the
exertion.
He
shoved
the
laser
pistol
back
into
its
holster
and
looked
around.

Five
bodies
were
scattered
around
the
floor
of
the
alley.
Rico
was
still
dealing
with
the
sixth,
and
Jon
turned
away
from
the
sight
of
the
vampire
feeding.
The
sweet
stench
of
blood
hung
heavy
in
the
air,
overriding
that
dead-thing
smell.
Jon
wasn’t
sure
it
was
an
improvement.
The
scent
of
death
woke
hungers
he
kept
locked
deep
inside,
calling
to
his
wolf
who
growled
and
paced
the
confines
of
its
prison.

Unlike
younger
wolves,
Jon
had
full
control
of
his
beast,
could
decide
when
and
even
if
he
changed.
Lately,
he’d
kept
his
wolf
caged—he
demanded
too
much
loss
of
control,
and
without
a
pack
to
back
him
up
it
was
rarely
safe.
Certainly
not
in
the
middle
of
a
crowded
city.

Now,
he
shuddered
with
the
need
to
give
in.
He
took
a
slow,
deep
breath,
trying
to
calm
himself,
but
the
scent
of
blood
filled
his
head,
assaulting
the
precarious
hold
he
had
on
his
control.
How
long
was
it
since
he
had
run
and
hunted
and
feasted
on
warm
flesh?

For
the
second
time
that
night,
a
vision
of
his
homeland
flashed
across
his
mind,
and
a
longing
to
run
free
under
the
yellow
moon
rose
up
inside
him.
He
pushed
the
image
away.
That
was
another
life.

Squeezing
his
hands
into
fists,
he
forced
his
gaze
back
to
the
vampire.
He’d
finished
drinking,
but
the
body
still
hung
limp
in
his
arms.
Rico
raised
his
head.
His
face
was
stained
red,
his
eyes
glowing
crimson,
and
behind
them,
a
darkness
lurked.
No
sign
of
humanity
remained.

An
urge
to
turn
and
run
gripped
Jon,
but
he
held
his
ground
and
ignored
the
primeval
fear
churning
in
his
gut.
“We
were
supposed
to
take
one
of
them
alive.”
He
kept
his
tone
casual.

Rico
blinked
once
then
seemed
to
come
back
to
himself.
His
lips
curved
in
a
savage
grin.
“I
forgot.”
His
grip
loosened,
and
the
body
slumped
to
the
floor.

Jon
shrugged,
feeling
the
tension
drain
from
his
limbs.
He
rolled
his
shoulders.
His
body
felt
good
for
the
first
time
since
he’d
woken
from
the
cryo;
the
anger
purged
from
his
system.

And
it
didn’t
really
matter
that
the
henchmen
were
all
dead.
It
had
been
a
long
shot
these
men
had
any
information
of
value.
They
were
low-level
soldiers
simply
doing
as
they
were
ordered.
People
in
that
line
of
business
should
be
prepared
to
die.

Jon
was.

Now
they
could
go
back
to
Deke
and
have
a
nice
heart-to-heart
without
his
bodyguards
getting
in
the
way,
persuade
him
it
was
in
his
best
interests
to
tell
them
everything
he
knew.
That’s
if
he
did
know
anything.
There
was
always
the
chance
that
he
didn’t
know
who
had
set
up
the
assassination.

Still,
he
had
to
have
some
information.
Credits
had
changed
hands.
Where
money
moved
there
was
always
a
trail.
They
just
had
to
follow
it.

Rico
crossed
the
alley
and
leaned
down
over
one
of
the
bodies.
His
sword
made
a
curious
sucking
sound
as
he
pulled
it
from
the
man’s
chest.
The
silver
blade
was
stained
dark
with
blood,
and
Rico
wiped
it
clean
on
the
dead
man’s
shirt
before
sliding
it
back
into
the
sheath
at
his
back.
He
bent
down
and
picked
up
his
laser
pistol,
holstered
that,
and
turned
to
Jon.
“What
now?”

“Now
we
pay
another
visit
to
Deke.
And
this
time
we
don’t
play
nice.”

“Good.
I
didn’t
like
the
slick
bastard.”

Jon
flexed
his
fingers.
It
looked
like
he
was
going
to
get
that
chance
to
break
Deke’s
nose
after
all.
He
liked
the
idea.

When
they
entered
The
Longest
Night
for
the
second
time
that
evening,
the
bartender
glanced
up,
alarm
flaring
in
her
eyes.
As
she
lifted
her
wrist
to
speak
into
the
comm
unit,
Jon
held
her
gaze
and
shook
his
head.

She
lowered
her
arm
and
watched
as
they
stalked
across
the
bar.
This
time,
Jon
didn’t
wait
for
the
door
to
open.
Instead,
he
drew
his
laser
pistol,
blasted
a
hole
in
the
metal,
and
kicked
in
what
remained.

Deke
was
already
on
his
feet
when
Jon
stepped
into
the
room.
He
stared
from
Jon’s
extended
weapon
to
the
ruin
of
his
door
then
to
Rico.

“Hey,
you’re
back.”

“We’re
back.
Why
didn’t
you
tell
your
men
to
kill
us?”
Jon
asked.
“It
would
have
been
the
sensible
thing
to
do.”

Deke’s
gaze
darted
to
the
monitor
on
his
desk,
and
Jon
edged
around
so
he
could
see
the
screen
while
keeping
Deke
covered.
He
read
the
first
few
words.
“You
might
want
to
look
at
this,”
he
said
to
Rico.

“What
is
it?”
Rico
came
around
the
desk
and
sank
into
Deke’s
huge
leather
chair.
Leaning
forward,
he
read
the
screen.
“It’s
the
wanted
notice
from
the
Collective.”
He
scanned
it
quickly.
“You’re
top
of
the
list,
but
they
actually
want
us
all.
It
goes
on
to
say
that
if
they
get
us
all
together,
then
dead
is
good
enough.
If
they
don’t
get
all
of
us,
they’d
prefer
us
alive—much
better
price
than
dead.”
He
frowned.
“I
presume
so
they
can
use
us
as
bait.”

Jon
stared
at
Deke,
who
was
rubbing
his
hands
down
the
side
of
his
pants.
“You’d
have
handed
us
over?”

“Of
course
not.”
Deke
sounded
calm
enough,
but
beads
of
sweat
broke
out
on
his
forehead.
“Actually,
I
sent
my
men
after
you
because
I
remembered
a
name.”

“All
six
men?
To
tell
us
a
name?
This
is
a
name
from
the
Rebel
Coalition?”

Deke
nodded
eagerly.

Suddenly,
Jon
had
had
enough.
He
wanted
away
from
here,
from
the
stench
of
greed
and
corruption.
And
lies.

He
reached
across
the
desk
and
grabbed
Deke
by
the
throat.
Concentrating
on
his
other
hand,
he
felt
the
claws
break
free
from
his
human
skin.
He
raised
the
hand,
now
covered
in
dark
brown
fur,
to
Deke’s
throat
and
rested
one
razor-sharp
claw
against
his
skin
where
he
could
see
the
pulse
hammering
below
the
surface.
The
scent
of
fear
drifted
in
the
air.

“Who
really
set
up
the
Aiden
Ross
job?”
Jon
asked.

“The
Rebel—”

As
he
started
the
lie,
Jon
pressed
down
with
the
claw,
piercing
the
skin
so
blood
welled
from
the
wound.
Deke
struggled,
but
Jon
held
him
easily
as
he
scraped
down
along
the
line
of
the
vein.
The
blood
ran
freely
now,
and
Deke
whimpered
low
in
his
throat.

“I
reckon
you’ve
got
a
couple
of
minutes
before
you
bleed
out.
So
I
suggest
you
talk
fast.”

“I
don’t—”

Jon
squeezed,
choking
off
the
lies
he
didn’t
want
to
hear.
“I
don’t
care
what
you
don’t
know.
Show
me
what
you
do.
Who
made
the
payments?
Where
are
the
original
contact
comms?”

Deke
nodded
frantically,
and
Jon
loosened
his
grip
and
shoved
him
toward
the
console.
He
tapped
in
a
few
words,
and
information
flashed
on
the
screen.

“There,
that’s
all
I
know.
I
swear.”

Jon
turned
to
Rico,
who
still
sat
in
Deke’s
chair.
“What
do
you
think?”

Rico
studied
the
readings
for
a
moment
and
nodded.
He
entered
a
code
into
the
console.
“I’m
transferring
this
through
to
the
ship.
We’ll
get
Janey
working
on
it.
She’s
the
best
there
is—she’ll
trace
it
to
its
source.”

“Good.”

Deke
slumped
against
the
desk,
his
head
hanging
low.
One
hand
clamped
over
the
wound
but
blood
still
dripped,
pooling
on
the
polished
metal.