The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files Collector's Set: Books 1-10: Urban Fantasy Shifter Series

by Craig Halloran

  Sitting in traffic waiting on a stoplight, Sidney sighed.

  “It’s only the first day,” Smoke said. He drummed on his knees. “In time something will reveal itself.”

  “What leads did Sam and Guppy take?”

  “Probably the good ones.”

  “Great.”

  “I’m joking.”

  “No,” she said, “you’re probably right. I’d do the same thing.” Her stomach groaned.

  “I know a great place nearby called Pancakes and Butterflies.”

  “What?” She looked at him. “Really?”

  “Yes.” He shook his head. “No.”

  “Why’d you say that anyway?” The moment in the clutches of AV the werewolf popped in her mind.

  “It was a joke. Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  She could still feel the wolfman’s hot breath on her neck, her will caving in. “No, it’s fine. Your annoying words saved that day. It wouldn’t be so bad to talk about it, maybe.”

  Smoke straightened up in his chair. “Really?”

  Why not. After all, I don’t know a lot of other people who have met a werewolf. “Let’s check off the last place on the list, and then we’ll go grab some chow.”

  “Sounds good to me. Chowabunga.”

  Sidney shook her head. Please stop saying things like that.

  The last stop was the Hilton Renaissance Hotel. She pulled the car into the front. Smoke rolled down his window and flagged the valet. “I’ll handle this.”

  “Sweet ride.” The valet was Indian, pleasant faced with a broad smile. “Lots of horsepower. It would be my pleasure to park it.”

  “We aren’t checking in.” Smoke held up a picture. “Have you seen this woman?”

  The valet’s eyes lit up. He said, “Have I seen her. I’m pretty sure I have. You can’t forget a face like that. Wowza!”

  Sidney looked at Smoke, shaking her head. I can’t believe it. I’ve been asking questions all day to nothing, and he only asked one.

  Smoke shrugged.

  “This is serious,” Sidney said.

  “I’m being serious,” said the valet.

  “When’s the last time you saw her?” Smoke said.

  “Can’t say for sure,” the valet replied, rubbing his white-gloved thumb and fingers together.

  “Do you mind?” Smoke said to Sidney, “I left all my cash back at home.”

  “I don’t have any cash either. It’s the digital age, you know.”

  “Aw, that’s too bad,” the valet said. He tipped his cap. “See you later.”

  Smoke’s hand shot out of the window, grabbed the man by his coat collar, and jerked his head inside the car window.

  “Hey, man! Hey, Man! Hey!” the guy squirmed. “We can Square up on my phone?”

  “Shut it,” Smoke growled in his ear. “Now tell me what I want to know, unless you want me to bite your ear off.”

  Smoke’s dark tone put a shiver through Sid. Morning glory.

  The man went stiff, his eyes boggled in his head. He said, “Like Mike Tyson?”

  “Exactly.”

  Sidney stuck the picture in his face.

  “Yes. Yes! That’s the bird lady. Very hot. Very hot. Good tipper.”

  “How long since you last saw her?” Smoke said.

  “She like to party. She like to party,” the valet sang in a jingle. “And wiggle that thang.” He bobbed his head. “Can you let go of me please?”

  “No.”

  The man made a pleading look at Sidney.

  “When?” she said.

  “Aw, these people are heavy hitters. She’s got a serious crew. I’m talking spooky.”

  Smoke shook him.

  “All right. They checked in last night. Went out a couple of hours ago and haven’t been back since.” He grimaced. “Please don’t screw up my uniform. It’s all I got, mean guy.”

  “Where’d they go?” Smoke said.

  “Clubbing down the road. Took a black Jaguar. Black wheels rolling behind her. Park City Nights. You know, right? Park City. Park City.”

  “Never heard of it. Why don’t you fill us in?”

  “The underground. You know, the old place. I’ve been there once. They go there. Bad crews. Bad crews.”

  Smoke glanced at Sidney then said to the valet, “There better be a place, or I’m coming back for your ear.”

  “You’d really bite it off?”

  Smoke held his knife up to the man’s eye. “Nope.” He pushed the man away.

  Sidney accelerated back into the street. “A little dark, don’t you think?”

  “Didn’t have much of a choice without any cash.” He eyed his knife. “Besides, a little fear in the belly never hurt anyone. It’s better than a knife anyway.”

  “I just never figured you for the tormenting type.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way.” He tucked the knife away and pulled something else out. A smart phone. He started texting. “Let’s get something to eat.”

  “Now? We just got a lead.”

  “I’ve passed it on,” he said, putting the phone away. He patted his belly. “Let’s eat.”

  “No, we’re going to pursue this lead first.”

  “Come on, I don’t do so well on an empty stomach. I’m starving. I almost chewed that guy’s ear off.” He made a sour face. “And that just ain’t right.”

  “No.”

  “Let Sam and Guppy do their thing. The Drake and their people know we’re out here looking for someone. They might know the entire thing. Besides, I have the Glow in me. Let’s lay low. When the time is right, we’ll do the right thing.” He pointed. “Take the next left at the light and head three miles downward. Great steaks and pancakes.”

  Sidney pushed her blinker down. Fine. “I’m only doing this because I was about ready to eat that man’s ear too.”

  Smoke laughed. “You get cranky when you’re really hungry, don’t you.”

  “No.” Yes. Mother always said that. Allison too. “I think it’s the suit. It’s like I’m burning more energy.”

  “If you say so. How’s the shoulder?”

  “Good.”

  Not much was said after that until they parked and went inside the restaurant. It was located beneath an apartment complex and displayed the modern décor of a restaurant chain. The food smelled good, and being just past dinner time, it was busy. The hostess sat them down in a booth in the corner.

  Sidney studied the menu. “I don’t see any pancakes.”

  “That’s the dinner menu. They’ll have them.”

  The waiter came over. “Drinks?”

  “Water,” Sidney said.

  “Coke and two orders of pancakes.” He glanced at Sidney.

  “Uh … just bring me the grilled chicken salad and a cup of tomato Florentine soup.”

  “Certainly,” the waiter said, dropping his pad back in his apron. “I’ll be back with your drinks.”

  Sidney checked her phone. 6:33 pm. Where does the time go?

  “So,” Smoke said, easing back in his chair. “Are you ready to talk about werewolves?”

  CHAPTER 23

  “I haven’t slept the same since,” Sidney said, finishing off her salad. “Not bad but not my best. It was getting better, but now after this last incident, I’m not so certain.”

  “I’ve never been much of a sleeper,” Smoke said. He’d almost finished off his second stack of pancakes and downed his third Coke. “I think you’re right.”

  “About what?”

  “These suits. They burn more calories or something. I’m still hungry.” He jabbed his fork into the flapjacks and stuffed them in his mouth. “Not that I mind eating.”

  He had a drop of syrup on his grizzled chin. It didn’t bother her. Nothing about the way he ate or drank bothered her at all. It was odd. There were plenty of things she’d find to pick a person apart. But not Smoke. Not yet. Something about his raw nature was enjoyable to watch. “Maybe you aren’t getting it all in yo
ur mouth.” She pointed at his chin.

  “Oh.” He wiped off his chin with the cloth napkin. “Sorry. How barbaric of me.”

  “Barbarians don’t use utensils.”

  “You’re right.” Smoke dropped his fork, picked up the rest of the pancakes with his hand, and stuffed them in his mouth, grunting. “Mmmm.”

  Why did you have to do that? Everything had gone pretty well up to that point. They’d discussed the werewolf, the deaders, and the Drake. It was all a common bond only the two of them shared, and it was comforting. Almost like a good date, and she hadn’t been on one in a long time. And now this? Her expression didn’t hide her disappointment.

  “What?” Smoke said, trying to clean off his sticky hands. “It’s a joke. Just lightening up the mood a little. You’re looking at me like this is a bad date or something.” He set down the napkin. “I don’t think this is going to do it. I’ll be back.”

  She watched him go, gently shaking her head. Lighten up, Sid. She’d been around plenty of frivolous men in the past. Silly gestures hadn’t bothered her before, at least not during her time in the military. But in the Bureau, things were always serious. Screw it. I’m under shadow cover now. No one else is around. She took her fork and stabbed his last bit of pancake and stuffed it in her mouth. Oh, that’s good. She swallowed down part of his Coke. And that’s good too. Man I wish I could put it down like he does.

  The waiter showed and said, “Can I take this out of your way?”

  “Yes. Take all of it, and I’m ready for the check.”

  Smoke returned just as the waiter was taking everything away. “I wasn’t finished,” he said, taking a seat. “Or was I?”

  “You were,” she said.

  “Fine. Well, I return bearing good news.”

  “Really, from a trip to the restroom?”

  “It’s a text from Sam.” He held up his phone.

  It read:

  She’s here and this is freaky. Laterz.

  “There’s a picture.” He pulled it up. The image was dark, but the distinct features of Night Bird’s face were defined well enough. She was dancing in a mish mash of people.

  “Who parties like that at this time of day?” Sidney said.

  “Freaky people.”

  The waiter came back and set down the check. “I’ll pick it up when you’re ready.”

  “I got it,” Smoke said, reaching into his back pocket and producing a thin wallet. He removed some bills and handed them to the man. “Keep the change.”

  You butthole! “I thought you said you didn’t have any cash.”

  “It slipped my mind.”

  “Right.”

  “Besides, I was saving it for our dinner.”

  “You tormented that poor guy.”

  “I gave the otherwise boring man something to talk about.” He put his wallet away and got up. “We can go back and tip him if you feel so bad about it. You’re driving.”

  She narrowed her eyes on him and sighed through her nostrils. “Let’s just go.”

  ***

  They sat in their car across the street, eyeing the entrance to the club. Every five to ten minutes or so, an expensive car or limo would pull in front of an older office building. They’d been staking it out for over an hour.

  “Here comes another one,” Smoke said, using a small pair of binoculars. A dark green limousine pulled alongside the curb across the busy street.

  A burly bouncer with almost as much neck as head opened the limo door and escorted three well-dressed people, a short man and two women in furs, into the alleyway that was shared with the next-door building.

  “Is that all rich people do, party day and night?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Smoke said.

  “Me neither. Though I have been at a few federally funded banquets, helping out the Secret Service.”

  “Ah, the Secret Servants,” Smoke said with a nod.

  “No, Secret Service.”

  “That’s what I said, Secret Servants.”

  Here we go. Conspiracy time. “I have plenty of good friends in the service.”

  “Hah, that’s a lie.”

  “No it isn’t.”

  “It is, because I don’t think you have plenty of friends of any kind.”

  True. “Fine. Acquaintances.”

  Smoke continued. “Unless you’ve spent time at home with them, you don’t really know them.”

  “All right, all right. I don’t want to get into this right now. But those guys and gals are willing to take a bullet for someone, so I’m willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Touché.”

  Thank you, Lord. “So, mister bounty hunter, what’s your next move: wait for them to leave, or go in there?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I’m giving you free range on this one, but if you’d rather I didn’t—”

  “Sam sent me the password,” he said.

  “We’ve been sitting here an hour when all along you had the password.” And why do you text with Sam all the time and not Guppy?

  “I didn’t figure you’d let the valet park your car.”

  True. “Or you could give me the password and I’ll go inside alone,” she said.

  “I was thinking it should be the other way around.”

  “No. I trust the valet more at this point.”

  Smoke gave her a look.

  She gave him one back. “So what’s the plan to bring her in once we’re inside, bounty hunter?”

  “We isolate her from the pack.”

  “Pack? I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “I’m not worried.” Smoke lowered his binoculars from his eyes. “Somehow I don’t think someone that calls themselves Night Bird is a werewolf.”

  “She’s on the Black Slate. I have a feeling she must be something. I’m not exactly eager to find out what that is.”

  “Don’t worry. You can count on me. We’ll take her the other way out. Easy peasy.”

  “Why don’t we take this other way in?” she said. “I’m assuming Sam and Guppy told you where it is?”

  “Now you’re catching on.” He showed a little teeth. “But there’s a catch.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We can’t go in with any weapons.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Park City Nights. The club was expensive, yet seedy all the same. Sidney and Smoke hung back at the bar. The mirrored cabinet stocked with top shelf liquors gleamed. The wine glasses and goblets were fine crystal. The music that thumped in the room was loud but manageable for conversation.

  “Would you like something to drink?” said the bartender. He was a lean black man, white shirt and black bowtie. A very clean look about him.

  “Edmund Fitzgerald,” Sidney said to him.

  “Make it two,” Smoke added.

  The bartender gave them a funny look. “Coming right up.” He made his way down to the end of the bar, opened up the cooler, and returned with two beer bottles with sinking ships on them. He removed the caps. “Enjoy.”

  Sidney took a taste.

  “Interesting choice,” Smoke said. His Adam’s apple rolled as he gulped. “Ah. Much better than the beer they make in prison.”

  “Don’t get carried away.”

  “Who, me?”

  She eased up onto the stool, eyeing the dance floor. Lithe hard-bodied women danced in gleaming jewels and fine linens, their movements seductive and erotic. Sidney’s throat tightened. There was something ancient and fascinating in how they moved. Almost like a ritual. Geez.

  “I don’t see her yet,” Smoke said in her ear.

  It brought her back to reality. She scanned the rest of the room. Half-naked women in bronze bird cages cavorted and grinded amid men huddled in conversation. The sinister atmosphere crept into Sid’s bones. Stirred her soul. These were not the people of the streets she’d sworn her protection to. They were something else.

  Smoke bobbed his chin to the beat. “Man, this place
is filled with evil boogers. It’s like I can smell it. Want to dance?”

  “No,” she said, taking a sip. I want to drink.

  “I think it would be better than sitting here like a couple of toads. Come on. Show me your moves. I’m sure you have at least one.”

  “Oh, I’ve got more than one. You’ll just have to take my word on that.” She spied the dance floor. The women frolicked and shimmied all over the men and one another. Shameless. Inviting. “I’ve never seen people dance like that so early in the day before.”

  “It’s after midnight somewhere, so I guess that’s why they’re letting it all hang out. Before long I bet they scream and shout.”

  “I bet you’d like that.”

  Smoke shrugged his brows and finished his beer.

  A deeply tanned muscle man in a sliver of a gothic T-shirt walked by. There was a tattoo on his neck with a rising black sun on it.

  “We’ve definitely got the right place,” Smoke said, watching the man walk away. “The stink of Drake is all over it.”

  On the dance floor, the sultry dark and dusky women and their partners parted on the floor. A magnificent woman walked into the center. Angi Harlow. She wore a long silver dress trimmed in feathers and sequins with a plunging neck line. The curves of her body were without flaw. Her eyebrows sparkled with glitter. The music changed into something dark, passionate, and ceremonial. What is going on here?

  “Night Bird is one fine lady. It’s a shame she’s a soul-sucking criminal,” Smoke said, taking his last sip of beer. “Makes me thirsty.”

  Sidney had been to a Persian wedding years back and enjoyed the incredible dances. This was like that but with ten times the passion and filled with erotic steam. Morning Glory. They’re gonna rip their clothes off at any moment. She took a long drink. Smoke nudged her out of her trance.

  “Four o’clock,” he said, eyeing the edges of the dance floor. “And eight o’clock. Huh, rock around the clock it seems.”

  Goons. Bullish men in dark suits and glasses stood around the edge of the dance floor with their arms crossed over their chests. She really does have a lot of henchmen. There was the bulge of a concealed gun underneath each man’s jacket. Sidney knew the type. A lot of former athletes and vets who liked the spicy benefits of the macho life turned mercenary. It reminded her of a movie scene with Columbia drug lords. The Night Bird Cartel. How nice.