by Anthology
The sound of the woman’s quick footsteps, tapping over the wet pavement, met his ears, and he held his breath. Remaining crouched, he pressed against the wall of the bin and extended his shooting arm along the cool metal. She rounded the corner, but before she could draw down on him, he pulled the trigger, the deep thrum of the pulse reverberating through the air.
Whump.
The heavy sonic blast erupted from the business end of his pistol and rippled outward in a stocky, ropelike cylinder. The column of energy slammed home, striking the woman dead center. Her body jerked and lifted from the ground to fly backward and crash into the opposite brick wall. Her weapon flew from her grip as she slid to the pavement.
Rhykar knew, after having seen what happened to his partner, the male would be more cautious. The light overhead exploded, plunging the alley into murky shadows. A high-pitched whine threaded the air, and icy chills prickled his skin.
Bolting forward, he rolled and landed in a crouch next to the woman. Behind him, the trash bin imploded. Metal shrieked, twisting and crushing in on itself, the friction sending volleys of sparks raining through the area. Using the momentary brilliance, he located the hunter harbored in the dark veil of a doorway, taking aim with a nasty chunk of deadliness.
When a second high-pitched whine announced danger, Rhykar leapt. He splashed through a puddle just as the woman behind him shriveled into a tight ball, her arms and legs drawing into the mass, her bones cracking with the force until she popped in a sickening splat of liquid. Gods, this guy was hardcore.
Jerking his gaze from the horror, he raised his pistol and fired. The heavy thrum of the sonic blast vibrated through the alley, and the cylindrical core rippled through the air to strike the male in the chest. The impact hurtled the hunter backward, his head slamming against the heavy metal door behind him.
Sucking in a breath, Rhykar shoved to his feet. Too frickin’ close. Skirting the spray of carnage, he approached the hunter. He knelt next to him, noting something covered the guy’s face. He reached down and stripped the gear, coming up with a pair of high-tech goggles. Rifling the guy’s pockets, he discovered a folded paper.
Tires squealed at the end of the narrow passage. Streetlights on the main road revealed two men in dark suits emerging from a black sedan. The cleaning crew had arrived. Time to leave.
Tucking everything into his jacket, he crouched and hugged the shadows as he rushed toward the opposite end of the alleyway. Ten minutes from now, no evidence of the altercation would remain. The cleaners would dispose of everything, and rumor had it, if they’d gotten hold of him, they would’ve eliminated his existence as well.
Heading toward a more populated street, he hurried along the sidewalk amid a variety of pedestrians. As he walked, he scanned the crowd in a vigilant search for any other hunters who might’ve tracked him. Glancing up, he caught sight of a neon sign, luminous in a large window. He peered over his shoulder, checking one last time to ensure he hadn’t been followed, and veered across the street, dodging traffic as he headed toward Reno Joe’s coffee shop.
He pushed the door open, a bell jangling overhead. Striding through the bright establishment, he took a booth and sat facing the entrance.
“What can I get you?”
He glanced up at the dark-haired, middle-aged waitress. “Coffee. Black.”
She nodded. “We got pie, too. Cherry. Strawberry-rhubarb.”
“Sure. Cherry.”
She scurried off to get his order, and Rhykar looked out the window, scrutinizing the people walking by and half expecting the dark suits to arrive in their sedan. He rubbed his brow. The alley was probably spotless by now, but that didn’t mean more hunters wouldn’t track him down.
The waitress returned, setting a mug of coffee and a huge slab of pastry in front of him. “Anything else?”
“No. Thanks.”
She stood there staring at him, so he picked up the fork and took a healthy bite.
Chewing, he peered up at her. “Good,” he mumbled.
Appearing satisfied, she wandered off to help another customer. He downed a second forkful, not because the dessert tasted delicious, but because it had been a while since his last meal. That, and for some reason, almost getting his head blown off had caused him to appreciate the fact that he was sitting there, stuffing his mouth with cherry pie.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the goggles. Clear eyepieces, aluminum rims with a line of flush buttons, and a wide, pliable band to hold the gadget secure to the wearer’s head. Rhykar sipped his steaming coffee before slipping them on, the view through the lenses unfiltered. Reaching up, he tapped one of the buttons on the rim, and the image shifted into X-ray mode. He scanned the room, his attention drawn to a woman standing at the counter. She had a stocky pistol tucked under her jacket, along with a communication device and a set of metal handcuffs. Off-duty cop.
He pressed the second button on the rim and jolted at the flash of bright light that followed. Blinking, his vision cleared, and the room appeared normal. But when he looked out the window, he saw highly detailed images of all the pedestrians passing by. Night vision. Well, that explained how the hunter had found him so easily.
He activated the next button and the image shifted into heat sensor mode. The patrons in the coffee shop glowed bright reddish-orange while the metal chairs were green or yellow, the floor blue. Thermal, infrared vision. Logical addition.
He touched the last button, but the image didn’t seem to shift. Rhykar squinted and wondered if perhaps the sonic blast had damaged the goggles. But then he spotted the extra people in his view and realized it was the cook and workers in the kitchen. He peered out the window and spied the patrons drinking inside the bar across the street.
“Reheat your coffee?”
He jerked around, ripping the goggles from his head. The waitress stared down at him, steaming pot in her hand.
“Uh, sure.”
She topped off his mug and moved to the next table.
Jamming the tech back in his jacket pocket, he pulled out the folded paper. He glanced toward the waitress to ensure she was occupied and then laid it out on the table. The blood in his veins ran cold.
Wanted: Dead or Alive scrolled across the top of the opti-tech sheet, an unflattering picture of his head and shoulders rotated below, and his stats were listed off to the side. At the bottom, his full name and a flashing line declaring him armed and dangerous. Extreme prejudice, deadly force, and a host of other suggestions on how to apprehend him scrolled across the bottom.
There was a frickin’ bounty out on him. Oh, he’d had a price on his head before and had always managed to elude the hunters. But this?
He stuffed the paper back into his pocket. Hunching over the table, he ran a hand through his hair. Drek. He needed help with this, and instinct said he should call the best hunter in the business, the only one who’d ever come close to catching him. But after their last encounter, she might well shoot him on sight.
“Girl troubles?”
Rhykar lifted his gaze to the waitress, who stood next to his table again. “Pardon?”
“Aw, I can spot a jilted man a mile away.”
“No, it’s not what you—”
She waved her hand. “It’s okay. My brother went through something similar. Then he headed down to Vegas to one those fancy hotels and came back a changed man.” She grinned. “Got married two weeks later.”
He grabbed his coffee took a gulp.
“If you’re looking for true love, well, Vegas is where you need to go. I never thought my brother would find a woman who could stand his ugly mug.” She barked a hoarse laugh. “But he did. That Madame Evangeline works magic, I tell you.”
“That’s very nice for him.” He set his mug on the table.
“Oh, it was supposed to be just one night of passion and all, but it turned into so much more.” She eyed him. “And I know what you’re thinking. Some tawdry hookup in a cheap motel?” She shook her head and laid h
er hand on his shoulder, gave him a light squeeze. “Nothing could be further from the truth. My brother showed me pictures. The hotel is like a palace with fountains and statues and lots of plants. Gorgeous.”
He grunted and took another swallow of coffee.
“Madame Eve sure came through for him. So who knows? Might work for you, too. And the whole thing is on the up and up. You know? Completely private, secure.”
Rhykar looked up from his coffee. “Private and secure?”
“Oh, yes. You sign up online. No one else is the wiser.”
He nodded, a plan forming in his mind. “And the service provider’s name is Madame Eve?”
Chapter Two
“No more trouble, Gelloh,” Selea said and wrenched her captive’s arm. “Or I’ll have to use full-body restraints, which I’ve heard put the squeeze on just the right places, if you get what I’m saying.”
The beady-eyed hustler peered over his shoulder with a lascivious grin. “Bet you’d like that, right? Squeezin’ me jes’ so.” He rocked his hips and ran his fat tongue over his cracked lips. “Com’on, girl, I can getcha there.”
Selea laughed and shoved the big guy down the hallway and through a security scanner. “Keep talking, Gelloh. Your mates want to hear details so they’ll know how you want it.”
He growled, and she pushed through the lockup entrance. Gelloh rounded on her—just as she’d expected he would. Lowlife scum like him didn’t know when they were beaten, merely a bottom rung on the racketeering ladder that some other self-made idiot stepped on to move higher up. Gods, he’d been nothing but a pain in her rear since she’d caught him snogging some chit at a local hangout. Of course, his predictability had made tracking him down far easier. So, when he crouched to make a run at her, she kicked his shoulder instead of his face.
The brute lost his balance and spun around, tumbling through the one-way force field caging a dozen other offenders. The engetic bond she’d used to restrain him released from his wrists and clattered to the floor as he passed through. She bent to pick them up.
“Frickin’ chowda-twa,” he snarled as he pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll get ya. Thisn’t done, Selea.”
She pivoted toward the door. “Merry time, boys.”
Upstairs, she waited for her payment while the accountant double-checked records and marked that Gelloh Krohan, wanted for skimming funds from his boss, had been locked up until the situation could be rectified. Yeah, sad times when criminals could use the law to punish their own for unacceptable behavior. In the past, they took care of their problems themselves, but it appeared they no longer wanted to get their hands dirty. She sighed. Someday, she’d find a way to catch them at their own game.
She held out her wristband, and the accountant swiped her finger across the virtual screen in front of her. A beep followed, alerting her the transaction was complete.
“Keep your head down, Selea.”
Strolling toward the exit, she waved a hand over her head. “Always do.”
Twenty minutes later, she hopped a rail-pod across the city to the residential quarter. While she rode, she adjusted her nasal filters, blocking out the rancid city odors that had slipped through, and eyed the two passengers who rode with her. The pair sat locked in a passionate kiss, oblivious to her presence. How fortunate they were to have found one another.
Shifting her gaze to the window and the massive city beyond, she bit her lower lip, remembering a man who’d elicited similar feelings in her. The image of steel gray eyes framed by shoulder-length waves of gold leapt to mind. A full mouth that had brushed over hers in a moment lost to fiery lust. Strong arms that had held her close, alluding to desperation and desire.
The rail-pod bumped to a stop, and she bolted to her feet, shoving the memory away. Striding up the ramp to the residential platform, she hugged herself against the frigid night air…and the icy tendrils that had somehow managed to wrap around her heart. She gritted her teeth. How could she have been fool enough to lower her guard with such a seductive bounty? Stepping on the lift that would take her to her floor, she swore once again not to repeat the mistake.
She treaded the lengthy hallway, pausing at the far end long enough to swipe her hand over the sensor that opened the door to her flat. Entering, she stripped off her jacket and hung it on the rack. No mucking up the place, not with three flatmates. Neatness was key to sanity in the tight two-room apartment.
“Sel, good to have you.” Felina stood at the food prep counter and held up a bowl. “Tat-tohs. You want?”
She shook her head and moved to the common area where Cara sprawled with one leg over a chair arm, spooning up the meal Felina had made.
The woman glanced up, her heavy amber curls trembling with the movement. “You look tired, doll. Rough time of it?”
“Yes, but the bounty’s locked up.” Selea jerked her thumb toward the door. “And aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
Cara leapt to her feet, almost spilling her bowl. “Scret! And I’ll get fired if I’m late again.”
“No worries,” Felina called from the prep area. “I’ll go with. Need a drink anyways.”
“Good to have you home again, Sel. Ten should be home quick.” Cara grabbed her coat from the rack and opened the door. “Later.”
With the flat to herself, Selea decided to clean off the filth Gelloh had imparted. She yanked her shirt over her head and paused at the doorway to the bedroom. “News on,” she commanded, and a rectangular area on the far wall in the common area sprang to life. A primped anchorwoman reported the latest events around their planet.
She entered the bedroom, ambling between the bunk beds that lined two walls, and moved to the bath where she stripped and dumped the soiled garments into the cleaner bin. After a quick dash through the sonic shower, she grabbed a set of clean clothes off the shelf, dressed, and returned to the common area.
“And in other news,” the anchorwoman said, “legendary corporation Vast Innovations endured a major blow to their research and development arena when chief scientist Kalo Dorvis was murdered last night. The remains of the lead scientist were discovered in his lab with genetic tests confirming the identity. On the up, DNA at the scene has confirmed a suspect, the specs of which have been disseminated to all available bounty hunters. Founder and spokesperson for Vast Innovations, Mertan Graiton, has offered no speculation as to how the loss of Dorvis will affect future projects. A memorial for the Dorvis family and VI employees is expected to be announced soon. In other news—”
The front door opened and Ten strode through. “Selea, you’re home.”
“Yep.” She muted the news and grinned, rising to hug her childhood friend. “Good to be back.”
She pulled away and eyed Selea. “So, no problems?”
“None.” She held out her arm, displaying the credit band on her wrist. “And with almost enough to cover my share of the rent.” She gestured toward the newswoman. “You heard about the murder?”
Ten pulled off her jacket and hung it on the rack. “Horrible. Our world will suffer the loss of his creative inventions. It’s been on everywhere.” Her eyes widened. “You’re not thinking about going after the murderer?”
“I haven’t pulled the stats yet, but yeah.” Selea crossed to the couch and sat. “A bounty like that could cover expenses for a year.”
Ten pulled the clasp from her hair, releasing her platinum and lavender tresses. She stared down at Selea, her violet gaze sharp. “Not if this madman pops you like Dorvis.”
Selea swallowed. “Pops?”
“Yeah. Some new tech they were talking about at the infirmary. Implodes you ‘til you literally go pop.” Ten frowned. “Look, I get that hunters have run in your family for generations, but if you don’t choose your bounties with care, you’ll be the end of your line.”
“I am careful,” she growled. “But snagging frickin’ scum doesn’t pay. It takes twenty to equal this one.”
Her friend sighed and lowered to the chair. Her
gaze shot to the news screen. “So, you check your messages yet?”
Selea recognized the attempt to smooth their differences by changing the topic and rolled with it. “Only been here long enough to clean up.” She shifted her attention to the news. “Display messages,” she commanded.
A half dozen images appeared on the wall. Four she recognized as pertaining to her job and one displayed the Vast Innovations logo. That message probably included the murderer’s stats and bounty information. She would open that later when Ten had gone to bed. No sense smacking her intentions in her best friend’s face.
The last message puzzled her. “Secured?”
“Encrypted, even.”
Selea looked at her.
Ten arched her eyebrow. “We get encrypted information at the infirmary. Patient data, new treatments, virus alerts, stuff like that. While I don’t recognize the image, the gold halo indicates encryption. Thought you’d want to know.”
“Yeah. And that number with those intertwined letters. What is that? A one, an N, and an S? That’s a symbol I haven’t seen before, either.” Selea pointed at the message and tapped her finger in the air. The image highlighted red.
“Identity confirmation,” the computer stated.
“Selea Val’keer.”
“Confirmed.”
The communication spiraled open, and a text message appeared.
Ms. Val’keer,
I am personally forwarding this message to you. The gentleman who contacted me assured me privacy was of the utmost importance. Please let me know me if you require further assistance.
Sincerely,
Madame Evangeline
“Who is Madame Evangeline?” Ten said.
“No idea.” She frowned. “I don’t know anyone by that name.” She swiped her finger through the air, opening the forwarded message.
Her breath caught. Steel gray eyes stared at her from wall screen. Next to her, Ten gasped.
“Selea,” Rhykar said, a sexy grin quirking his mouth.
She gazed at the image, stunned by how diminished her memory of him had become. A dark jacket covered his broad shoulders, and his shoulder-length golden mane had darkened to bronze. He’d pulled his hair back, tying it at the nape of his neck, revealing his strong jaw and the jagged tattoo that marked his clan. Her heart pounded at the sight of him, her body trembled at the deep timbre of his voice speaking her name—and he wasn’t even real!
