Arrow (Supernaturals of Las Vegas Book 4)

by Carina Cook

  Of course, if she could get him to turn over all the stolen goods, she could just leave him in Maui and come back. Claim that he’d gotten away. Tanith wouldn’t like it, but she’d have her precious things back, Lara wouldn’t have to play house with a stranger, and Ignazio would be free of that egotistical bitch. The more Lara thought about that plan, the more she liked it. She found her steps quickening as she heaved her overnight bag—packed for veracity—onto the moving walkway towards the main concourse.

  She passed through security with aplomb despite the fact that she was carrying fake identification. Her IDs had been made by the best forgers, and she carefully rotated through them with Annamarie’s help to insure that the travel patterns made sense. If she and Ignazio ended up skipping this flight, her current ID for Mimi Kaleb would be retired for a while. Failing to get on a flight after checking in was unusual enough that it might create some unwanted attention for that identity.

  Security waved her through without any questions, and she reflected on this as she sat to put her shoes back on. She imagined she was somewhat unusual as a bounty hunter in that all of her weapons were immaterial. When she drew her hands up in the right position, the bow and arrow appeared, but only she could see them. They looked like white fire, the kind that made spots dance behind her eyelids if she looked at it too long. Once they struck their target, they disappeared, and the target was left hopelessly in love with whomever she wished. It didn’t even have to be the first person they saw—that was as much of a myth about cupids as the flying babies with wings. As far as supernatural abilities went, she felt like she’d lucked out. She wasn’t sure she would have been able to get behind vampiric blood drinking because of the taste, but then again, if she’d been a vampire, she probably would have felt differently about that.

  She was musing on this as she walked down concourse B and had to remind herself to slow down and start looking for Ignazio. She stopped to look at the menu of one of the restaurants, using the time to glance around for the curly haired man from the photos Annamarie had sent her. He was a good looking guy, at least. Hopefully he would be polite and not too handsy. She could handle either of those things—or anything, really—but that didn’t mean she wanted to.

  No luck there. He wasn’t in the restaurant or sitting at the bar. She decided to move down to the newsstand a few gates down and try there. She’d be able to see at least part of the waiting area and decide on a course of action from there.

  When she walked down to the newsstand and picked up a copy of People Magazine to leaf through, she nearly ran into a tall guy with long blond hair. She realized with bemusement that he looked a lot like the Hollywood bounty hunter stereotype—long hair, chiseled features, all black clothing topped off with a trench coat despite the 80 degree heat. He moved with a languid grace that suggested martial arts training, and his eyes scanned the terminal with an intensity that she realized she should be matching. He was definitely not Ignazio, but he was arresting for sure. If she hadn’t been working, she might have tried to strike up a conversation with him and see where it went. But not shoot him. She made it a policy never to use arrows in her own personal relationships. It inevitably led to a realization that the only reason they were with her was because she’d magicked them into it, and that didn’t feel good at all.

  Oh well. As much as she’d like to strike up a conversation with the Hollywood Bounty Hunter, she had Real Bounty Hunter work to be doing. She turned and began to look over the edges of the People Magazine, completely disregarding the latest news about Channing Tatum. She didn’t see Ignazio waiting in the gate area, or standing at the service kiosk. Perhaps he’d gone to the bathroom. There! He would walk past her at any moment. All she had to do was pretend to stretch just…like…so…

  She pulled her hands apart, feeling the tingle of the bow and arrow between her fingers. It must look like an awkward stretch to anyone who was watching, but no one would imagine what she was really doing. And even if they had, no one would believe them. Invisible bows and arrows was crazy talk. Even she thought so.

  Just as she released the arrow, the Hollywood Bounty Hunter barged right into her. A shock ran through her, like putting her hand to a live wire. It felt like her hair was standing on end. Her shot went wide, pinging harmlessly off the wall on the other side of the concourse. It felt like time slowed, and there was nothing but her and the Hollywood Bounty Hunter. Her head swam and her knees went weak. The world receded…

  When her head finally cleared, she found herself staring into the Bounty Hunter’s eyes dreamily. The strangest thing about the situation was that he was doing the exact same thing right back. Down to the expression of shock on his face that she knew matched her own.

  Belatedly, she looked around, trying to relocate Ignazio and salvage this situation. But something must have spooked him. She could just see his retreating back as he hurried for the exit.

  The Hollywood Bounty Hunter followed her gaze and took a single step in Ignazio’s direction before she snagged him by the sleeve.

  “No,” she said. “Not unless you want the attention of airport security.”

  She nodded toward the corner, where a pair of uniformed officers watched them with curiosity. Lara didn’t doubt that she could best what amounted to rent-a-cops, but she also knew that the minute she did, her face would be plastered all over the airport security desk. And if the Hollywood Bounty Hunter did anything, the same thing might happen, just because she’d interacted with him.

  Speaking of which, maybe her half joking instincts had been right. Was this guy really a bounty hunter? If so, he wasn’t subtle about it at all. And he’d run under Annamarie’s radar. She’d said no one else from the big hunter organizations was in Vegas. That meant he was either very new or very, very good.

  “Who are you?” he demanded, not pulling away from the grip she had on his arm.

  “Let me make a phone call,” she said, “and then I think we need to talk.”

  She dialed without letting him answer.

  “Annamarie,” she said, “I need you to watch some traffic feeds for me. He’s on the run.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Vincent could not believe what was happening. He followed Lara as she got onto the moving walkway en route to the parking lot. Questions teemed behind his lips, but he couldn’t afford to speak them out loud. Anyone who overheard would think he was completely insane. Not that a stranger’s opinion of his sanity really mattered to him, but it could pose a problem later if he ever got in trouble.

  His behavior today had already been odd enough. Even for him.

  He didn’t talk to women, let alone attractive spitfires like Lara seemed to be. She’d taken charge of the situation in the terminal with such aplomb that he hadn’t even cared. Instead of feeling irate at the way she made decisions without even asking him, he felt relieved. Finally, someone who seemed to understand what was going on. Maybe she could explain it to him. It was worth following along, at least for the moment, until he could ask his questions.

  She was a pleasant person to be following, too. He wasn’t the kind of man to ogle women; no amount of beauty would make up for a pleasant package on the outside. But from what he could tell so far, Lara was the kind of woman that got his motor running. She wasn’t a wishy washy kind of person. She wasn’t stupid or indecisive or annoyingly passive. She was the kind of woman who got things done. He liked that. Maybe he’d always been attracted to that kind of woman. He honestly couldn’t be sure, but he sure did like it now.

  Dating a woman like that would be an adventure. And she sure was beautiful. A bit on the short side, with voluptuous curves that filled out her travel-friendly grey track suit. Her long black hair was so shiny that it reflected the harsh lights over the running walkway. The set of her high cheekbones in her heart shaped face and the slight tilt to her brown eyes gave her a regal, proud look. If he hadn’t sworn off human contact, she would be the kind of woman he would have liked to pursue. But such a thing was t
oo dangerous.

  Or was it? As she led him out the doors and into the parking lot, he mused that perhaps a woman like Lara was exactly what he needed. If she couldn’t answer any of his questions, then she wasn’t. But if she could? If she knew something about the voice, or about the man they were hunting, or about anything useful at all? Then she was the kind of woman he would want to keep around. As a friend at the least, but maybe as something else too.

  She turned around and looked up at him.

  “Okay, so where should we meet? You still want to talk, right?” she asked.

  “Absolutely.” He cleared his throat. “But we should drive separately, I think. Otherwise, we’ll have to come back for a car.”

  That, and he didn’t want her to see his late model sedan. The angel of death gig didn’t come with the best pay—although on occasion he’d been able to take a little drug money with no one the wiser. He tried not to take from his targets, though. Even if they weren’t innocent, they might have families that were. And he didn’t fancy himself a thief. But he didn’t feel like flaunting that fact in front of Lara right now. He wanted to impress her, if anything. Besides, the car smelled like General Tso’s Chicken. It was a permanent fragrance that he couldn’t seem to get out, no matter what he tried.

  “Obviously,” she said, but not unkindly. “Where would you like to talk? I don’t know much around here. My place is all the way on the other side of town.”

  “Mine isn’t too far. Would it be too forward to invite you there? We could speak freely,” he said.

  She seemed amused. “You don’t have any designs on my person, do you?”

  “No! Of course not!”

  Now she grinned outright. “I’m just giving you a hard time. Your place is fine. Give me the address for my GPS, and I’ll meet you there?”

  He did as she asked, and then saw her to her car like a gentleman should. On the way back to his, he wracked his brain on the state of his apartment. He was usually meticulously clean, as required when one lived in a studio apartment. Otherwise, the clutter tended to overwhelm the already small space. But he’d been in a rush today, and the vision had thrown him off his game. Had he left a pair of underwear on the floor, or something equally embarrassing? He didn’t think so but couldn’t be sure.

  He broke every speed limit between the airport and his apartment complex and managed to get there a full two minutes before her. It turned out that the hurry had been needless and there was no underwear on the floor, but better safe than sorry.

  As she mounted the steps to his door, he was already holding it open. He gestured her inside.

  “I’d offer to take your coat, but you’re not wearing one,” he said.

  She laughed a little like it had been a joke, although he’d been entirely serious.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Nice place you have here. You’re a martial artist?”

  He scanned the room, trying to see it as she would. Lara was the first person who had been in this apartment since he’d rented it a few years ago. Not even Jin had been here, although she’d had him over to her tiny little house more than a few times for meals and to help her with fix-it tasks that she couldn’t handle herself. He wasn’t much of a handyman, but he could accomplish a lot with the help of YouTube.

  Unlike Jin’s house, which was terrifically cluttered with all manner of boxes and bins full of lord knew what, his apartment was sparse. A futon sat in the corner, its rumpled green sheets a testimony to his hurry this morning. An alarm clock and a small Buddha statue sat on a shelf a few feet above his pillow. His few clothes and personal items fit easily in the closet near the foot of the bed. A small flat screen hung opposite the bed. The rest of the room was devoted to practice space. Mats and a practice dummy sat against one wall alongside a rack of wooden practice weapons. He kept the blades in the closet.

  “I dabble in martial arts,” he said, although that was far from the truth. He trained every day. Someday, he’d reach for a target and miss, or his touch wouldn’t work. Something would go wrong. He was determined to be prepared for that.

  “Nice,” she said. “I take boxing. Never got much into martial arts, although my gym offers an MMA class that I keep thinking about.”

  “Sounds cool. I’m mostly self-taught. YouTube videos and whatnot. I’ve taken classes here and there, but nothing steady.”

  “That’s impressive.” She leaned against a wall near the kitchenette, watching him intently with those deep brown eyes. “So what are you?”

  “I…what…I don’t know what you mean,” he stammered.

  “You don’t?” she asked directly.

  After a few moments of enduring her steady gaze, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to know, and the only way to get there was to speak the unspeakable.

  “I don’t know what I am.”

  Her face softened a bit. “I’ve been there. It sucks. Tell me what you know and maybe I can help.”

  Hope blossomed in his chest, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. Could this be it, after all of this time? Was he finally not alone? He’d hoped for it ever since the airport, but being in the middle of it was overwhelming all the same.

  “I call myself the angel of death, but I’m not sure that’s the right term. I have visions of people, and when I find them and touch them, their hearts stop.” He briefly described the visions and the voice that accompanied them.

  “How long have you been like this?” she asked gently.

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember anything before August 4th of 2014. I’ve been like this since then. I just…woke up. No money. No ID. Homeless. I’ve pulled it together, but I still don’t know where I came from.”

  “Fuck,” she said, drawing the word out into a long, stunned syllable. Her eyes met his with what he felt was genuine empathy. “I’m so sorry, Vincent. I thought it was hard to figure this out with only a letter to go on, but that’s nothing compared to what you’ve gone through.”

  “Do you know what I am?” he asked.

  Her face fell. “I’m sorry. I’ve never heard of anything like this. But I know some people to ask, if you want me to. Confidentially, of course. I wouldn’t use your name.”

  “I’d really appreciate it.”

  It was a letdown, of course, but somehow he still felt lighter. He’d told someone his big secret, and she hadn’t laughed at him or run screaming in the other direction. She’d accepted it—him—without question. If he got nothing else out of this situation, it would be worth it.

  Although that man from his vision was still at large, and there was still the shadowy figure from his vision to contend with. He knew in his heart that it couldn’t be Lara. Although the way he’d reacted when he’d touched her…what was she?

  His heart in his throat, he asked the question.

  “I’m a cupid,” she said simply, throwing him entirely off balance. His shock and confusion must have shown on his face, because she laughed then. Now that he’d confessed, she seemed much more relaxed around him, not so focused on the business at hand. “We’re not all bare-assed babies with wings. I can shoot arrows that make the target fall in love with anyone I choose.”

  “So when I interrupted you, you were shooting the man from my vision? To…make him fall in love with you?” he asked uncertainly.

  “Yes, but it’s not what you think. I’m a bounty hunter by trade. I find people who don’t want to be found, and I make them fall in love with me. Then I talk them into coming with me and bring them to whomever is looking for them. I specialize in violent criminals. Justice for families. That kind of thing. And other supernatural creatures, of course. It’s a good way to get them off the streets without drawing too much attention.”

  Vincent had known that of course he couldn’t be the only person out there with abilities beyond the norm, but this was a lot to digest. He had a million questions, so many that he couldn’t even form them. Maybe it was better that way. He didn’t want to seem too naïve.

&nbs
p; “So you were hunting the same man I saw in that vision?” he asked.

  “Yes. His name is Ignazio Balma. Supposedly, he stole a bunch of money and some valuable recordings,” she said, her nose wrinkling. “But given recent developments, I’m beginning to think there’s more going on.”

  “Usually, if I fail to get to my target—I call them targets. That’s not stupid, is it?” he asked.

  “Just go on,” she said, waving her hand impatiently.

  “They go on to kill a bunch of people. If the pattern holds true, this Ignazio guy is going to kill a bunch of people. That doesn’t really line up with the thief story.”

  Lara stood straight now, the businesslike expression back on her face. “Well, we’re just going to have to find him before that happens. How long do we have?”

  He frowned. “I…don’t know. It’s never a set amount of time.”

  “Okay. I’m going to consult some contacts of mine. See if I can’t hunt him down. Can you try and find him again? Will your voice give you another shot at him?”

  “It’s never happened before, but I can try,” he said. “What if we fail?”

  “Then people die,” she said simply. “It will suck. But we keep on going, because some people saved is better than no people saved.”

  He looked at her for a long moment.

  “You make it sound so easy. How do you do that? I feel like I might vomit,” he said. “I do sometimes, when I miss.”

  She smiled a little, sadly. “I do too. But then you shake yourself off and carry on, because what else can you do?”

  “I don’t know. But sometimes…it’s stupid, I know, but sometimes I just wish I was normal. Just a guy with a college degree and the loans that come with it. And a dog. I’d like to have a dog, I think, although maybe one of those little ones that doesn’t shed much. And a normal job, and a girlfriend…” He trailed off. “I’m rambling. I’m sorry. I just have been holding onto all of this for so long. You don’t know what a relief it is to have someone to talk to. Half the time, I feel like I must be insane.”