Determined
to beat the killer at his own game, Kat opts to travel to the future and set
herself up as bait. With her shifter supercops watching her back, what could
possibly go wrong?
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Huntress For Hire
Copyright © 2012 Ali Atwood
ISBN: 978-1-77111-110-2
Cover art by Angela Waters
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Huntress For Hire
Huntress Chronicles One
By
Ali Atwood
Chapter One
Boston Massachusetts.
Present day
“Hey, I’m
back. Flew the redeye in from LA and met a great guy on the plane.”
The words
came through Kat Monroe’s earpiece as she gunned her SUV through an orange
traffic light. Steel-belted radials screeched as she edged her way between a
belching metro bus and a suicidal bike messenger.
Finding
humor in the madness, Kat’s husky laughter rippled through the cell link. “Hey,
bestie, welcome home. I’m battling a traffic jam from hell here. Did you say
you’d met a new guy?”
* * * *
“Yes, he’s
a freelance photojournalist who lives here in Boston. Hold on…” Switching her
cell phone to her other ear, Lora Harrison retrieved her luggage from the
carousel and walked from the terminal building to wait for the airport limo. “I
gave him my number and we’ll see if he calls.” She sat on a bench, stretching
out her shapely legs. “So dish, Monroe. What’s happening with you?”
* * * *
Kat blew out a breath. “Same old, working my
ass off trying to sign new clients.”
The women
had hooked-up in college and stayed best friends, despite the fact that they
were polar opposites in looks and temperament. Kat, an ex-cop turned private
investigator, verged on Amazonian proportions, standing a little over six feet.
She had silvery-gray eyes accentuated by her dark, sable hair. She was feminine
enough to wear it long though she normally braided it for work. Since she’d
been forced to conceal a large part of herself from an early age, she could
appear aloof at times.
Lora
Harrison, an executive chef for a large, catering company, had just returned
from a short, business trip to Southern California. A petite, blue-eyed blonde
with a bubbling personality and boundless energy, she was nothing if not
forthright.
“Stopping
stalling, Monroe, I want deets. Have you done the naked deed with anyone since
you dumped Josh?”
Passing a
high-sided truck, Kat slowed for red light. Her expressive face moving into
grimace. “Nada on the sex.”
“Huh.
So what is it now, four months?”
“Closer
to six and a half.”
Prior to
resigning from the Boston PD to open her own investigation agency, Kat had
dated Josh Harper, a fellow homicide detective. Though he was fifteen years
older than Kat with craggy features that couldn’t be called handsome, he kept
his tall, rangy body in good shape and Kat enjoyed his keen sense of humor.
Three months into the relationship, Kat walked into the supply room early one
morning to find Nancy Murphy, from human resources, on her knees with Josh’s
dick in her mouth.
The
episode hadn’t been a heartbreaker, since Kat’s heart hadn’t been on the line.
Still, she had expected the affair to remain exclusive for as long as it
lasted. Since she couldn’t avoid running into Harper on the job, she’d put up a
good front. But the incident had played on her insecurities. Lately, she’d
begun to wonder if there were any men out there worth shaving her legs for.
“What you
need now, girl, is a well-hung guy to erase the memory of that asshole. And
since I’ll be in town for a while, I can help you prowl for a likely candidate.”
Kat
released a heavy sigh. “Truthfully, Lora, the only thing I want to pursue at
present are my career goals.” Her outgoings in the last few months had done
some serious damage to her bank account. She needed to pull in some lucrative
contracts. “You know as well as I do that a woman trying to build a reputation
in a male dominated profession has to work twice as hard to win even a modicum
of respect.”
Lora made
sympathetic noises. “I hear you, hon. I really do. But mmm, mmm,
male dominated. Summons all kinds of erotic images.”
Kat
rolled her eyes. “Is there anything that doesn’t summon erotic images for you?”
Lora
chuckled. “Nope, I’m a simple woman. My mind undresses every man I meet.” She
paused. “Look, sweetie, you know I love you to bits, but the truth is, you’re
driven to a fault and it can’t be healthy. You need to lighten up. Forget about
work and come clubbing with me tonight. We can analyze the benefits of hot sex
over a pitcher of cold Margaritas. With luck we’ll find a couple of guys to
help us follow our line of investigation.”
Kat
hesitated, thinking about her upcoming appointment with the client that she was
hoping to sign. A Mr. Dawson who was keen to find his missing wife and, the
large sum of money Mrs. Dawson had lifted from the couple’s joint savings
account. To give Dawson confidence in her abilities, Kat had planned to do some
preliminary research this evening. “The thing is…I’d envisioned a quick, nuked
dinner before I pull an all-nighter for a prospective case.”
There was
a short silence. “All right, I want you to be straight with me, are you,
A-genuinely bogged down with urgent investigation work, B-determined to hide
from men because you’re secretly nursing a broken heart over Josh Harper, or
C-avoiding my company because I’ve inadvertently done something to piss you
off?”
“What!
No. God, Lora, no, it’s got nothing to do with you. You’re my best girl pal
forever.” In truth, Kat would like nothing more than to confide in Lora about
her sudden fear of sleeping. But she didn’t dare, in case her friend thought
she’d gone loopy. Instead, she offered a half-truth, “If I’ve seemed a little
off, it’s because I’ve been suffering with insomnia for a couple of weeks. It
makes it difficult to concentrate during working hours.”
Lora made
a relieved sound. “Okay, well that’s not so bad. So you’ll do a few hours of
office work this afternoon, have a night on the town with me, where you might
possibly meet someone you want to take home for an uncomplicated fuck. Hey,
presto! You’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”
Kat had
to laugh. Lora never failed to lift her spirits. “Alright, done, I’m yours to
command for the evening.”
“There
you go again, conjuring those sexy, bondage images.”
Kat
pulled a comical face to herself. “Tie me up, tie me down. I suppose you want
to have dinner first?”
Lora
chuckled. “I’ll see if I can get us a table overlooking the harbor at our
favorite restaurant.” Lora’s cousin owned the seafood restaurant. “What time
should I book?”
“Hmm.
Eight o’clock, that’ll give me time to get some of the work done.”
There was
silence and then a damn from Lora. “Gotta go, hon, the new
pastry chef I hired just texted me a nine-one-one. See you at the restaurant.”
Lora hung
up as Kat pulled her four-wheel-drive vehicle into the wide, shrubbery-edged
driveway leading to her redbrick fixer-upper. Turning off the engine, she
popped the trunk, grabbed her briefcase off the passenger seat and walked to
the rear of the vehicle for her groceries. As she cast a fond eye over her
garden, she noticed the rhododendron bushes were covered with deep, pink blossoms.
To her mind, their blooming always marked the transition from winter to spring.
She paused to savor the perfect day, lifting her face to let the May sunshine
warm it, the spring breeze snagging wisps free from her braid.
Simultaneously,
she felt a sudden stirring in the air as her inner wavelengths signaled that
something unforeseen was at hand. Turning on her heel, Kat looked back along
the length of her gravel driveway, watching a tall man in a long, black coat
walk through the entrance.
Thanks to
her special abilities, which Kat kept hidden, she didn’t fear strangers the way
the average woman might. All the same, she watched the newcomer speculatively
until she saw a large, black dog running to catch up with the man who paused to
attach a leash to the dog’s collar. With that, Kat assumed the stranger was one
of the townies who regularly scouted this area, looking to buy one of the older
properties that sat on a large plot. Most of the buyers, like Kat, had
reconstruction in mind. Perhaps this guy had walked too far and lost his
bearings.
As man
and dog approached through the tree-dappled sunlight, the stranger’s features
were obscured, but it was clear he was youngish. With a professional eye, Kat
logged the rest of his details—height around six feet, weight in the region of
one eighty, dark, longish hair and his black coat appeared to be made of
leather. Since it was unbuttoned and flapping in the breeze, it reminded Kat of
something a cowboy might wear. She almost expected to see a pistol strapped to
his hip.
Her gaze
drifted down to his canine companion. A large dog with a glossy, black coat
that looked to be a cross between a Labrador and a German Shepherd. She was
amused to see it had a doggie version of a backpack strapped around its middle.
The
stranger waved a hand in greeting. “Good afternoon. A lovely day, is it not?”
His voice drifted across to her like a soft rumble of thunder. It was strangely
accented, not quite American.
Kat
offered a politely enquiring smile. “Yes, a beautiful day.”
She was
distracted when the dog started to pull on its leash, making excited, snuffling
sounds, obviously eager to greet someone new. Kat loved dogs and hoped to adopt
one when she wasn’t working quite so many hours. Now she gazed down into an
appealing, canine face, dominated by large, intelligent, brown eyes. The dog
wagged its tail in apparent response to her instinctive smile.
“Hello
there, sweetie.” She bent to stoke its satiny, black head while the dog licked
her fingers. Then it looked up into her eyes and woofed softly, completely
charming Kat. “Well aren’t you a darling—” she glanced at its genitals— “boy?”
She stroked its head a couple more times before she came upright to speak to
the man. Finding her gaze level with the strong column of his throat inside the
neckline of his black sweater, she amended his height to six-six or -seven.
Plus he was bigger framed than he looked from a distance with an impressive
width of shoulders that all but filled her vision
When she
swept her gaze upward, she felt as if the air had been knocked out of her. The
eyes watching her with piercing intensity looked as though they’d been
fashioned from molten gold, emphasized by inky lashes. His hair was blue-black,
waving as it wished in sexy disarray. A quick study of the rest of his face
with its smooth, bronzed skin and beautifully sculptured mouth showed there
wasn’t anything about him not attractive. Even the small scar running along the
right side of his jaw added to his appeal. Kat could almost hear Lora shouting
from the other side of town, Seize the moment, girl. Don’t let this one
get away.
Mentally
Kat shook her head. He was way too beautiful for her or any average-looking
woman’s peace of mind. While she had never had occasion to use the term
eye-candy, this guy was confection to die for—a creamy chocolate type you could
become addicted to, if you were lucky enough to get a taste in the first place.
Doubtless, he dated the type of star-spangled women you saw in the glossy
magazines.
She spoke
in a neutral, neighborly tone, as if she wasn’t affected by his looks, “Since
you don’t look like somebody selling magazine subscriptions, I’m guessing
you’re new to the area, in need of directions.”
For a
second her mysterious visitor looked puzzled, supporting the theory that
English was not his first language. Then his eyes filled with laughter, his
mouth curving into a smile that upped his appeal quotient from hot to sizzling.
“No, I’m not a door-to-door salesman and Mrs. Patel, at the corner store,
pointed me in this direction. I’m looking for Kathryn Monroe.” His gaze
steadied on her face. “Would that be you?”
Staring
into his extraordinary eyes, the woman in Kat lost her train of thought, but
the ex-cop picked up the threads. “Yes, I’m Kat Monroe. And you are…?”
This time
his smile was quick and apologetic. “Sorry, I should have introduced myself
straight away. I’m Max…Jericho.”
He held
out a large hand and Kat shook it. It was callused and felt like rock. “Pleased
to meet you, Mr. Jericho, I’m curious why Mrs. Patel would send you to me. This
house isn’t for rent or sale. As you can see, I’m still renovating.” She
indicated to the builder’s scaffolding covering the side of the house where the
brickwork was undergoing repointing.
Jericho
flicked his gaze to her house. “And I’m sure it’ll look splendid when finished.
However, that’s not why I’m here. I need your professional help.”
She
blinked. “You want to hire me?”
“Yes.” He
watched her face. “I’m hoping you can start right away.”
Off
balance, she quickly considered. Mr. Dawson was coming to see her the day after
tomorrow. It was hard to estimate how much time it would take to track down the
errant Mrs. Dawson. But she had juggled two or more cases before. “I’m sure I
can find the time to help you.” She was curious. “How did you hear about me?”
Jericho
hesitated. “I found you online, but somehow misplaced your office address on
the way here.” He gave an elegant shrug.
He didn’t
strike Kat as a man who would misplace anything.
“Fortunately,
Mrs. Patel was able to help.” His eyes twinkled. “She considers you to be an
asset to the neighborhood by the way.”
Listening
to his rich rumbling voice that made everything he said sound fascinating, Kat
did what she usually did with prospective clients, opened her para-senses to
probe his chi. She found his emotional levels were deep and inconsistent,
making it hard to get a fix on him. But since she didn’t get any red warning
signals, she relaxed, as much as any woman could relax when faced with so much
masculine beauty. If it crossed her mind to have a word with Mrs. Patel
regarding privacy issues, she dismissed it. The woman had done her a service
after all.
“In what
area do you need my help, Mr. Jericho?” Recently she’d been involved with a
couple of industrial espionage cases. However, the vast majority of her work
dealt with missing persons the police had failed to find.
“I’d like
you to help me locate a thief who made off with four-point-five million in
uncut diamonds.”
Kat
blinked slowly. “Well, that’s certainly out of the ordinary.” Not many PIs were
offered sexy cases tied to millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds, let alone a
sexy client to go with it, even if all she could do was look. The Josh Harper
disaster had cured her of mixing business and pleasure. “I’m assuming you’re an
insurance investigator, since law enforcement is not in the habit of hiring PIs.”
“No,
they’re not, but I’m foreign law enforcement without jurisdiction. I come from
a small European country called Baltrania. And the victim is a Baltranian
diplomat.”
Kat had
never heard of the place. And she had to wonder why a foreign diplomat would be
carrying millions in uncut diamonds.
“The
local police are looking into it,” Jericho continued. “But since there are no
leads so far, I decided to add an outside investigator with local knowledge.”
His
melodious voice flowed through Kat’s senses like warm honey. She was curious to
know why he’d chosen her when there were three male PIs with offices in the
vicinity. “If the Boston PD can’t find your felon, what makes you think I can?”
“I liked
what I heard about you from my contacts in the department. The word is you
handled yourself flawlessly while you were on the job, showing an exceptional
talent for tracking criminals.”
Kat
didn’t respond to that particular comment. “What makes you think your perp
is in the Boston area?”
Something
flickered in his eyes and was gone. “The man we’re after has ties to this
location. We’re certain he’ll be drawn to here. To that end, I have an
appointment with a realtor shortly in regards to renting a property for a
long-term stakeout.”
Kat knew
from her years on the force that family ties had led to the arrest of many a
criminal.
“I’d like
to give you a report to read and we’ll go from there.”
While he
looked down and dug around in a deep coat pocket, Kat couldn’t help but dart
another look at his fine mouth, wondering how it might feel moving against
hers, kissing her breathless.
“Here you
go.”
She
whipped her attention down to the plastic-covered disk he was offering. She
took it carefully, avoiding contact with his hands so as not to think about how
they might feel on her skin. Now that Jericho was a client, he was strictly
off-limits. And not just because of her determination never to mix business and
pleasure. The PI profession had a very efficient grapevine, as you might
expect. If it got around that Kat Monroe slept with clients, she would lose all
credibility. And that was the main issue in her mind. Her livelihood had to be
sufficient to support her and her sisters until they graduated from college and
embarked on their chosen careers.
Kat read
the name written on the disk’s plastic cover, “Viktor Kalsiak. That definitely
sounds European, but your name doesn’t.”
“I have
American heritage. My knowledge of the US is the reason I was given this
assignment.” His gaze rested on her mouth for a moment before he glanced down
at his watch. “I have to go meet with that realtor. So I’ll wait to hear from
you.”
“I may
not get back to you until tomorrow.”
“No
problem—hold still!” His hand snaked out and brushed against the skin behind
her left ear, sending a thrill racing up her spine.
“You had
a little beetle on your hair.”
She gave
a breathless laugh. “I guess it is that time of year.” Lord, I really
do need to get laid.
“Before
you go, I’d like to give you this.”
Her
jittery gaze darted up to his and then dropped to the sealed envelope he was
offering her.
“It’s a
thousand dollars, as a consultation fee.”
As much
as Kat’s dwindling bank account badly needed an infusion, she shook her head.
“It’s too much. My normal consultation fee is two hundred dollars.” The fact
that he was offering so much made her suddenly question if he
was legit. For all she knew, he could be a con man using her to find a
double-dealing partner.
“Please
take the money,” he urged. “I can afford it.”
That
increased her suspicions, but common sense told her not to look a gift horse in
the mouth, she settled for, “All right, I’ll use the extra as a retainer. But
if I decide for any reason not to take the case, I’ll refund your money, minus
two hundred dollars.”
“Very
well.” He handed her the envelope. “We’ll talk when you’re ready. My contact’s
listed on the first page.” He glanced down at the dog, sitting perfectly still
all this time. “Okay, Bowwow, it’s time for your run in the park.”
Kat
looked down at the sleek, black dog in bemusement. It wagged its tail, its
mouth opening in a doggy grin. “You named him Bowwow?” It seemed disrespectful
to give such a beautiful animal a ridiculous name.
When Kat
looked back at Jericho, the corners of his mouth lifted in another beguiling
smile. “I did warn him people would remark on the name, but he wouldn’t
listen.” With that, the pair turned and walked away.
Kat had
always appreciated a quirky sense of humor. And studying Jericho’s fluid
stride, she wondered what his backside looked like. “You’ll never know,
Monroe.” Slipping the disk into her jacket pocket, she managed her grocery bag
and briefcase as she walked to unlock her front door.
Stepping
into her wood, tiled-floor foyer, she tossed her keys and purse onto the small
mahogany table by her staircase, crossing to punch in her passcode, disarming
the security system. She shrugged out of her navy jacket and hung it on the
coat stand, leaving the disk in her pocket for later.
She
carried the grocery bag into the kitchen, setting it on the counter. Her first
step, as always when she came home, was to fill the kettle to make tea or
coffee. Once she set the water on the stove to boil, she opened kitchen
cabinets and quickly put away the groceries, her thoughts returning to the
alluring Mr. Jericho.
She was
still feeling slightly dazed by the encounter and curious to see what was on
his disk. At the same time, she warned herself not to dwell on her reactions to
him. Though maturity had moved her from the gawky group into the attractive
set, men, even ordinary looking ones, didn’t exactly fall over themselves to
get to her. Some were put off by her height and attitude—she had plenty of it.
And, of course, she was in the law and order business, which intimidated many
men. Her biggest problem was the under-the-radar existence she’d been forced to
live, never being able let her guard down. More than anything, she wished there
was someone she could open her heart to.
With the
thought, she touched the intricately, detailed, gold pedant her mother had
given her on her twelfth birthday—supposedly an old Celtic design. Kat still
grieved for her beautiful mother, Davina, who was tragically taken from her two
years ago in a car accident. Davina had made a living as a fine artist while
she’d trained as a downhill skier for the Olympics. She was a brilliant champion
who’d won five, gold medals.
Kat had
never known her father who supposedly died shortly after she was born. Kat
suspected she was the result of a brief affair. But it didn’t matter. Her
mother had been a warm and generous woman who had cherished Kat along with her
half-sisters, Brigitta and Lexine, twins, who were born when Kat was seven. The
twins’ father, Malcolm, sustained a serious head injury in the same accident
that killed Davina. Fortunately, Malcolm had come out of his coma and was
improving daily, able to be part of his daughters’ lives again.
It was
shortly after her half-sisters were born that Kat began to notice she was
feeling and sensing things differently, scents and sounds suddenly seemed
sharper. When she was in school or out in public, she was more aware of movement
around her and she sometimes heard whispered words in her head.
Of
course, she was still too young to comprehend what her new sensitivity
signified. When she finally mentioned it at home, her mother sat her down to
gently explain that she wasn’t an ordinary child. She’d descended from a long
line of females endowed with powerful psychic skills and the ability to move at
great speed.
At that
time, Davina did not consider her daughter needed to be shown what was written
in her great grandmother’s journal. She simply told Kat she was experiencing
the inception of a gift that would strengthen at puberty.
Kat was
thrilled. “So I’m kinda like a supergirl?” She visualized herself fending off
bullets like Wonder Woman. She couldn’t wait to tell her school friends and see
the amazement on their faces.
“I’m
afraid your legacy must remain a secret.” Doubtless Davina had feared the
authorities might step in and take her daughter away to be tested.
The
little girl had cried. “But what’s the point in having special powers if I
can’t show them off to my friends?”
Davina
took hold of Kat’s hands to make her point. “Because your gift comes with
responsibly, Kathryn, it must never be used for personal gain, only to help and
defend others.”
As Kat
grew from girl to teenager, she would have died rather than reveal the truth
about her herself. Her gift had become the bane of her existence. At fifteen,
she was biologically taller and more powerfully built than the rest of the
girls her age, feeling little better than a bull in a china shop. She
safeguarded her secret by pretending to be a fitness fanatic who spent a lot of
time in the gym. At the same time, she was careful to keep her physical
abilities in check when she played sports, especially in front of boys. It
wasn’t until she was into her senior year of college that she could risk
wearing high heels to social events. By that time, she didn’t tower over the
majority of males on campus. Not that it helped much. Not once in all her years
of wishing had she found a man she felt she could trust with her secret, one
that wouldn’t consider her a freak. Now that her mother was gone, Kat had no
one to confide in. She wished she had asked more questions when her mother was
alive. Maybe huntresses weren’t supposed to fall in love. Perhaps that’s why
her mother hadn’t kept a permanent man in her life.
With her
mother’s death, Kat had become the family leader, helping to support her
sisters. That’s why she needed to pull in some profitable contracts to offset
the cost of tuition and the renovation to the house.
Kat
sighed heavily. As much as she needed someone to confide in, her sisters were
dealing with the usual teenage tribulations, starting college and their own
burgeoning powers. She wasn’t about to burden them with her sudden fear of
sleeping.
When the
kettle started to whistle, she shut off her detour of self-pity and focused on
the work she had to get through plus the report from Jericho. She opted to make
a pot of tea.
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