A Hunter Born (Hired Hunters Series Book 1)

by Kimberly Forrest

  Morgan grimaced. “I’m afraid they were being quite literal.”

  “So, like, wings and halos, harps and peace on Earth kind of stuff?”

  Morgan’s mouth quirked up on one side with wry amusement at Jamie’s look of befuddlement. “More like sword-happy winged warriors with a shitload of power and a distaste for anything with demonic blood.”

  “Oh.”

  Speaking of which… “Anything solid yet on the status of the Born that held New York?”

  Jamie picked up her laptop, her fingers clicking madly over the keys as her eyes rapidly perused the screen. “Still all rumor and speculation at this point.”

  Pulling out her phone, Morgan strode for the door and the relative quiet outside. The vampire community could speculate all they wanted, but Morgan would be damned if she’d write Stroud off without confirmation one way or the other.

  Leaning back against the cold, concrete, exterior wall near the ice machine tucked under the stairwell, Morgan scrolled through her contacts of the Born listed alphabetically by the territory they controlled rather than by their names. Her thumb hesitated over New York. Shit. Thane had been one of the good ones. In a society ruled by men, he’d seen nothing wrong with Morgan’s desire to break out of the box she had been placed in thanks to her gender. Primarily because Thane’s sister, Blythe had felt much the same as Morgan. Blythe would have made one hell of a Hunter. The two of them had become fast friends as well. They’d practiced with knives together, honing their skills as they talked and planned, dreamed of breaking free. With Thane’s help, the three of them were going to start a sexual revolution within the Born.

  Of course, that was before Blythe’s father had caught wind of their machinations and chose to curb his daughter’s willfulness by assigning her governance over one of his territories. He’d done so, Morgan was sure, in hopes that his daughter would fail so that he could hold her up as an example of why women should remain in their tiny boxes as nothing more than wives and mothers. Blythe, as well as the territory she controlled in Bulgaria, had thrived, however, and Morgan couldn’t have been prouder of her friend. Not that it mattered, the territory was still ultimately held by her father and any and all praise that should have rightfully gone to Blythe went instead, straight to the elder Stroud, the world of the Born oblivious to his daughter’s triumph.

  Shit. Blythe would be heartbroken if her brother was dead at the hands of the angels. Had she heard the news?

  Morgan was tempted to call the sister first but hesitated once more. It was probably best not to speak to Blythe until Morgan had some solid facts of her own. Her thumb was just about to connect the call to New York when her phone rang. Unknown caller. Most likely a wrong number. Sending it to voicemail without another thought, Morgan quickly connected her own call before she lost her nerve.

  Two rings and then, “Morgan Rhys,” was drawled in those unmistakable cultured tones that she had thought she’d never hear again. Her relief was palpable as Thane continued, “What an unexpected surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  He sounded fine, one might even say he sounded amused, and suddenly, the worry she’d suffered on his behalf was replaced with indignation. “What the fuck, Thane?”

  There was a loud bark of laughter on the other end of the line. “Good Lord, you sound just like my wife.”

  “And you sound very much alive.”

  “Hm. Last I checked, yes.”

  Not in the mood for his droll wit, Morgan came away from the wall with a burst of adrenaline and began to pace. “The chatter online in the vampire community is saying you’re dead and we got a cease and desist order from the Elders pulling Hunters out of all territories surrounding New York claiming it had fallen to the angels.”

  “A gross exaggeration,” he returned dryly.

  Morgan snorted. “Care to elaborate and fill me in on whatever the fuck is going on?”

  “I killed the Elder.”

  Morgan tripped over her own feet at the unexpected statement bringing her furious back and forth stride to a halt. “I beg your pardon.”

  “He came into my territory unannounced, an army with him, with every intention of taking what was mine,” Stroud flatly informed her.

  Morgan blinked, her mouth falling open in surprise. There were rules in vampire society. The Born were extremely territorial, thus why there was typically only one Born within a territory unless it was a family group. Any Born entering another’s territory had to have permission to do so. Failure to acquire that permission was seen as an act of war and acted on accordingly, even for an unannounced Elder. But Thane hadn’t said an Elder, he’d said he’d killed the Elder. Christ. Achaeus was dead? The ancient male never left Greece. Ever. What had Thane done that warranted the oldest among them to leave his throne with an army intent on retaliation?

  “What did you do?” she whispered, still in shock.

  “That’s a rather long story. Suffice it to say that rules were broken on both sides. I just happened to be the one that walked away from the altercation.”

  Morgan shook her head, despite Stroud not being able to see her. “And the angels?” she asked. “Is that just a smokescreen the Elders are using to hide the truth?”

  “Unfortunately, no,” Thane returned, his voice rife with distaste. “There are currently a number of angels aligned with me, though saying that they are in control is pure fallacy.”

  Raising a hand to her forehead, Morgan rubbed at the area that was beginning to twinge with the first hints of a headache as her mind worked through the puzzle of the current order set down by the Elders paired with the information she just learned. With a laugh completely devoid of humor, Morgan shook her head. “They know they can’t touch you with angels at your back, so they plan to make you suffer.”

  “How so?”

  “By declaring your, and all surrounding territories, off-limits to Hunters, they’ve pretty much rung the dinner bell for any disgruntled vamps. Once word gets out, those states will be flooded with no one to help round up the rogues and contain the situation. The Born in those territories will be forced to redistribute their people to the task, depleting their assets and at the same time alienating any Born that might have allied with you thanks to the trouble you’ve stirred up for them. They’ll be begging the Elders to step in and fix things. Devious.”

  Thane let out a beleaguered sigh. “I guess that means I better start working on damage control. Thank you for the heads up, Morgan.”

  “I’m just glad to hear your voice, Thane. You had me worried,” she replied with a soft smile before what he had said earlier finally clicked in her brain. “And congratulations on your marriage. I hadn’t heard. What territory is she from? The alliance might prove beneficial in this mess.”

  “She’s not Born. My Margot was turned.”

  The news both was and wasn’t a surprise. While most Born tended to marry within their own kind to strengthen their holdings as well as propagate the line, Thane Stroud had never been typical – the very reason why he had been so attractive to Morgan in the first place. “I’m happy for you,” she said sincerely.

  “And you, Morgan?” Thane asked. “How are you?”

  They spoke for a few more minutes, Morgan sharing some of her best Hunter stories and what she liked to call her blooper reel of rogue fails before she offered, “Thane if you need help from me and my team, we will. Fuck the Elders and their bullshit order. Just say the word and we’re there for you.”

  Thane let out a chuckle. “You do need to come and meet my wife. She’ll absolutely adore you, but as for your offer, while appreciated, I think it best if only one of us is in hot water with the Court of Elders.”

  “If you change your mind…”

  “I’ll call you. And Morgan, it was good to hear your voice too.”

  Chapter Three

  “There’s an open contract listed for Big Jim Jerky’s territory,” Jamie was telling Kane with no small amount of amusement as Morgan returned t
o their room.

  “Oh, hell no,” was Kane’s immediate snarling response which came as no surprise to Morgan. James Theodore Fletcher, aka Big Jim, or as Jamie liked to refer to the Born vampire that held the massive sprawl of Texas, Big Jim Jerky, was Kane’s loud, brash, domineering father.

  Typically, a son of one of the territory-holding Born would be given his own section within that territory to rule. A sort of trial by fire. Unfortunately for Kane, however, who was the youngest of eight boys in the Fletcher brood, all of the currently divided sectors were held by his older brothers. Big Jim’s grand idea once Kane had come of age was to have his boys fight it out, said section being fought over going to the winner. A rather archaic and blood-thirsty way in Morgan’s opinion. Regardless, Kane had refused, left Texas, joined the Hunters, and hadn’t looked back since.

  “Well, there’s not a lot of open contracts available at the moment,” Jamie informed him, frowning at her laptop screen.

  “That’ll change,” Morgan piped up. “With the Elders’ new mandate in effect, I have a feeling we’re going to be inundated once word gets out to the Turned that certain states are unprotected.”

  Jamie shook her head with a wry twist of her lips. “What could the Elders be thinking?”

  Morgan filled them in on what she’d learned from Stroud and Kane nodded thoughtfully, pausing his game to swivel in his seat. “They plan on starving him out. Cut him off from any allies and resources, they’re hoping he’ll come crawling back to them.”

  Exactly what Morgan had been thinking.

  “Should we hold the line then?” Jamie asked. “We can set up in one of the outlying territories, catch the runners before they hit those sanctuary states.”

  Morgan shook her head. “For now, we still work solely by contract.”

  “I say we take a much-needed vacation before the expected wave hits,” Kane volunteered excitedly. “Disney World, anyone?”

  Both Morgan and Jamie grinned at the almost childlike expression of hope on the man’s bearded face. Pulling her phone out once more, Morgan offered, “I suppose I could call down to Florida and let Emanuel know we’ll be heading to his territory for a little R and R after we return Gibson to his Born.”

  Kane let out a whoop before returning to his game, Gibson began to struggle, finally waking from his nap only to still and shrink back into his corner when Jamie produced a Taser and let the thing snap and crackle in warning. Meanwhile, Morgan frowned to see that the unknown caller she had completely put out of her mind had left a voicemail.

  Assuming it would be either a wrong number or a telemarketer that would be quickly deleted, she was surprised to hear her name spoken in a heavily accented, southern drawl. “Miss Rhys, this is Destin Jourdain.” The caller's name was enough to set her back on her heels and had her quickly leaving the room once more for the relative quiet outside as the head of the US branch of the Order of Witches continued, “I have a proposition I’d like to discuss with you.”

  Morgan’s mind spun as she listened to the voicemail a second time before she called the man back, too curious to do anything but. As a rule, witches did not associate with vampires or vice versa. So why was the big man in charge calling her?

  “Miss Rhys, I’m pleased you called me back,” Jourdain said as soon as the call connected.

  “I must say, Mister Jourdain, I was surprised to get your call.”

  A bass rumble of humor met her ear. “I’m sure you were, but as I said, I have a proposition I’d like to discuss with you.” There was a beat of silence before the man added, “In person.”

  Morgan’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She had to admit, she was intrigued, but wary just the same. “A visit to New Orleans would require permission from Rodolfo,” she informed the man, referring to the Born that held Louisiana, “and he and I are both going to need more than the head of the Order of Witches has a proposition for me.”

  Another rumble of laughter. “What if I told you that I’d like you to investigate a series of murders?”

  “I’d tell you that you need to contact the police.”

  “Murdered witches. At the hands of vampires – and not to feed. We believe they were targeted.”

  Her mind processing this new information and its implications, Morgan watched distractedly as a beat to shit pick-up truck pulled into a parking spot and a giggling, obviously inebriated blonde practically fell out of the passenger side before she lurched back upright with a squeal and tottered on her sky-high heels until the driver, sporting a cowboy hat and western-style shirt, made his way around the hood of the truck to scoop the woman into his arms. As the couple’s mouths met in a heated kiss, Morgan, deciding they weren’t a threat, turned her back on them and paced away.

  “You think Rodolfo is behind it,” she guessed.

  “Whether he’s behind it, or abetting it, I intend to find out.” The bass rumble that accompanied that statement this time was anything but humorous and Morgan’s nape prickled with unease.

  “Why me? What makes you think I’d be willing to investigate one of my own?”

  “You have a reputation, Miss Rhys of not only being an efficient Hunter at the top of your field but of being fair-minded as well. It’s said that you have integrity. A rare commodity at times and one I hope to convince you to utilize in this instance.”

  Morgan blinked, the unexpected and much-appreciated compliment washing over her in a pleasant wave as Jourdain continued, “As for what you should tell Rodolfo, let him know that you and your team are in the mood for a little Jazz and Creole cuisine. The man loves to show off and will welcome the opportunity to do so with another of his kind I’m sure.”

  She’d heard that about the Born that held Louisiana – among other not so nice things. There was a reason why a contract never opened up from Olivier Rodolfo’s territory. He ruled his domain by inspiring terror and maintaining a very tight leash. While that alone wasn’t unusual, in fact, was common among the Born in varying degrees, she’d heard that Rodolfo had his own team of bloodthirsty thugs whose only job was terrorizing new vamps into compliance. Turned vampires who even thought of running never made it out of the area and were rewarded with a very public display of torture and execution in front of his or her compatriots to ensure that no others would contemplate such foolishness in the future. Barbaric? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.

  “Perhaps you need some time to think about?” Jourdain said, breaking into her shudder-inducing thoughts.

  Did she really want to pit herself and her team against one of her own kind? One with one of the most savage reputations? Not particularly. But if vampires were killing witches unprovoked, the witches would eventually retaliate – most likely without discrimination. Did they really need a war with the magic wielders on top of all the shit that was coming down from the Elders? Hell no. “I’ll need to speak with my team.”

  “Of course.”

  Assuring Jourdain that she would call him back within twenty-four hours with her decision, Morgan pocketed her phone and headed back to their room. Kane was still gaming, Jamie was biting her lip as she stared at her laptop screen, and their latest bounty was attempting to surreptitiously contort his body to escape his binds. Morgan merely had to raise a brow for Gibson to collapse back into his corner with a defeated huff.

  Shaking her head, she hid her amusement as she addressed her team, “Who’s up for a road trip to New Orleans?”

  ∞∞∞

  “I can’t believe we’re headed to The Big Easy,” Kane said with a grin as he lounged back in the driver’s seat, one wrist casually balanced on top of the steering wheel as they sped down the interstate. “The jazz. The food. I’m psyched.”

  Having dropped off Gibson with his Born and collected their earnings with minimal argument, Morgan’s team was once again on the road in their custom-built SUV that included a partition and heavy tinting in the rear section as traveling at night for a Hunter wasn’t always feasible and while sunlight to her and Kane was no big de
al, it was extremely detrimental to Jamie as well as any of their captured bounties.

  Of course not every Hunter team had a Born, much less two who could drive during daylight hours. Many teams were comprised of Turned vampires. Typically former soldiers or humans with martial skillsets, chosen specifically to be Turned for the Hunter Society. Those teams usually relied heavily on air travel, to the extent where it made sense to have a pilot on the team. Morgan, however, hated flying. She couldn't stand to be helpless in a metal tube, so far above the ground with zero control over the situation.

  “Gumbo, jambalaya, po-boys,” Kane continued, still thinking with his stomach.

  “Let’s not forget the job,” Morgan reminded him, grimacing at her phone clutched in her hand. She’d lied to Jourdain – sort of. Hunters didn’t actually need permission to enter a territory like other Born, a rule established to keep a Born from any given territory providing safe harbor to a runaway or claiming one of the runaways as their own by forbidding a Hunter’s entry. Hunters did, however, need to alert the Born that they would be in the territory for a job and Morgan was somewhat dreading making that call. Unlike most of the US territory holders of which she had some sort of working relationship, Olivier Rodolfo was someone with which she had rarely spoken and had never met. She knew the Born only by reputation and that reputation was not exactly one of cordiality.

  “Kane’s going to eat his way through town, just you wait and see,” Jamie mumbled from the back. “He’ll be utterly useless unless you need him to taste test something.”

  “Truth,” was Kane’s reply followed by a loud bark of laughter.

  Unable to share her team’s amusement at the moment, Morgan rolled her shoulders to ease the tension in her muscles and connected the call she didn’t want to make. Better to just rip the bandage off than sit there and stew.