Deadly Desire (Riley Jenson Guardian 7)

He hesitated. Its a talent.

Another talent you supposedly don't have?

Yeah.

The scent of this wolf might be divine, but his continued avoidance of any real information was getting damned annoying.

Tell me why you're here, before I'm tempted to beat the information out of you.

You wouldn't. You re not the type.

You have no idea what type I am, Kye.

Oh, I think I do. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, knew without even seeing his face that his expression would be thoughtful. Intent. Like a soldier sighting an opponent and weighing his options. I saw you in action with Patrin, remember. Given everything he'd done to you and your brother, you would have been well within your rights to kill him. And yet, you let him live. Scared the shit out of him, true, but left him alive. That shows compassion-and perhaps more than a touch of foolishness.

How do you know of our history with Patrin? How did he know about my brother? It certainly wasn't something I spread around-and Patrin surely wouldn't. Not after we'd so thoroughly busted his ass.

But how else would Kye have found out? He might be able to read my surface thoughts with ease, but he'd gotten no further than that.

I was sure of that much.

How else would I know? Patrin boasted me about it, before you and Rhoan showed him just how foolish such attempts would be now.

Patrin's a bastard. And how dare he tell strangers that Rhoan and I were related! In our line of business, that could get dangerous-and giving that sort of information to a man who was little more than a gun for hire was doubly so. But why would he have told you about us? It had nothing to do with your stint as bodyguard.

Well, conversations about the weather got boring, he said, mind voice dry. Your pack mate is not the most intelligent conversationalist around, let me tell you.

"What the fuck?" The voice rose out of the blackness, thick with anger and very definitely female. "Don't tell me you lost the trail?"

No words answered her, but one of the hellhounds whined.

So, not only could the zombie understand crow, but the witch could understand hellhound, Either that, or they were telepathic-which was entirely possible, given that my knowledge of hellhounds could have filled a teaspoon.

"Well, scents just can't disappear." She paused, as if listening, then added, "No excuses accepted. Finish off the creature. We must get out of here."

I glanced toward Kye. Who is that?

My target.

She's the crow?

Yep.

Who put you onto her?

The father of her first victim. He's a friend of mine, and asked me to look into it.

The first victim was only murdered several nights ago. That's not exactly giving us a whole lot of time to solve this case.

If it was your daughter, he said, mind voice patient, like he was talking to a slightly slow child, wouldn't you take every avenue you could to find her killer?

He had a point-although it wasn't one I was about to acknowledge. So technically, you're not hunting a bounty, you're just hunting.

With intent to kill. Just like me. Except I was supposedly on the side of the angels. Kye was on no one's side but his most recent employer.

Considering hunting is illegal in this state, do you think it wise for me to admit it?>Glass crunched softly under my feet as I picked my way through the rubbish, my laser held at the ready and every sense I had tuned for the slightest hint of movement or life. But there was nothing. The only sounds were the wind and my own breathing, which wasn't quite as steady as I would have liked.

The doorway led into a short corridor and, at the far end, a set of swinging doors. Two other doors led off the corridor itself, but neither of these were open. I hesitated at the swinging doors, flicking to infrared and searching the room beyond. Once again, there was nothing to suggest there was any sort of life-or unlife-laying in wait, but that strange blackness was filling it.