Hunter's Salvation (3 page)

FOUR MONTHS LATER

H
ER
screams haunted his dreams. The sight of her battered, broken body forever burned on the inside of his eyelids, so that every time he closed his eyes, he saw her.

Cora—

She'd been so sweet, so beautiful. So helpless. He'd loved her. More than his own life. And he should have stayed away from the beginning.

“You can't do this.”

He reached out, threading his hand through her red-gold curls one more time.

“Vax,
please
! You love me, remember?” As she pleaded with him, tears sparkled in her sky blue eyes. Her heart was racing—he could hear it.

“Yes. I do love you,” he murmured. “Shhhh…” He lowered his lips and kissed away the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“We can make it right, Vax. I know we can—you just have to help me.”

“I will.” He tipped up her chin and kissed her gently before guiding her head to his chest. He held her with one arm.

With the other, he drew the silver knife from his waist.
Am I really going to do this?

As though he were watching it happen to somebody else, he saw himself raise the knife. Watched as he drove it into Cora's smooth, silky back. She arched against him, screaming. A little puff of smoke escaped her lips, and the scream ended in abrupt silence.

Vax came awake with the echo of that pain-filled scream sounding in his ears. He jerked upright in bed and stared into the darkness of the night, trying to breathe. His heart slammed against his ribs with a force that hurt. Air rattled in and out of his lungs, and his skin was cold, clammy with sweat. The sheets under him were damp and tangled.

He could still hear Cora screaming.

“Shit.” He muttered the word as he flopped back onto the bed. He flung one arm over his eyes, but it did nothing to block out the pictures in his mind.

Ninety-six
…It had been ninety-six years. And the dream still had the ability to do this to him.

“Cora…” He whispered her name, trying to bring an image of her face to mind. He couldn't, though. All he could see was blood.

“God, Cora. I'm so sorry.”

 

D
AWN
hadn't even begun to tease the eastern horizon when Vax rolled from his bed. His gut felt raw; his throat was hot and tight, burning with the urge to empty his stomach. He swallowed bile down and stared at the hardwood floor between his feet as he waited for the nausea to pass.

It didn't pass completely, but it finally eased enough that he thought he could avoid puking on himself.

Ignoring the throbbing in his head, he pushed to his feet and grabbed the jeans slung over the end of his bed. Before leaving his bedroom, he pulled them up over his naked hips. In a concession to the chill in the air, he pulled on a threadbare black T-shirt and then headed for the kitchen.

Coffee wasn't going to settle his stomach any, but it might clear the cobwebs in his head and soothe the air a little. Especially if he used to it to wash down a couple dozen extra-strength aspirin. Before hunting down the aspirin, he set coffee to brewing. He finally found the bottle shoved in a cluttered junk drawer by the stove. As he popped the lid off with one hand, he grabbed a mug from a glass-fronted cabinet. Hot coffee sizzled on the burner as he pulled out the pot and filled his mug halfway.

He washed two aspirin down with coffee hot enough to scald his throat, and then he headed out to the back porch. The deck was huge, spanning the entire length of the house. Vax had built it with his own two hands one hot summer years ago. He'd planned on putting a hot tub off to the side, and maybe a fire pit, but then he'd lost interest. Pretty much summed up his entire life lately. He'd lost interest.

Depressing as hell, too, since he had a whole lot of years left in front of him. He already had a lot of years behind him, and most of them were bleak and empty.

Although he didn't look it, Vax had seen nearly two centuries pass. It was entirely possible that he'd see another two centuries before his body finally shut down on him. In another hundred years or so, he might start seeing lines on his face when he looked in the mirror, and the long pitch-black hair would eventually turn gray.

But it wasn't soon enough to suit him.

His life was empty and aimless, and had been for the past ninety-six years. He was going to spend whatever years were left to him empty and alone.

Sipping from the rapidly cooling coffee, he watched as the sun began to rise in the east. The sky bled from midnight blue to shades of purple and pink before finally settling into a clear, soft blue. The air remained chilly, though, even with the sun shining bright and clear.

Fall came hard and early to Montana. Although it was only early October, they'd already seen their first snow. He wasn't aware of the cold, though, until he felt a fuzzy warm weight settle around his bare feet. Looking down, he met a pair of warm, misty blue eyes that stared up at him with concern. He forced a smile as he reached down and rubbed the mongrel's head, scratching behind his ears.

He had found Wendigo a few years back, when he was just a puppy, shivering and near freezing. Part wolf, part husky, Wendigo and his littermates had been dumped by their owner on the roadside. Three of the pups had frozen before Vax had found them. The other two, he had found homes for. He'd planned on finding a home for Wendigo as well, but each time he did, the determined little thing escaped and found his way back to Vax.

After it happened the third time, Vax accepted the inevitable. He'd been adopted, whether he liked it or not. Vax would deny it if he was asked, but the mutt had worked his way into his heart. Kind of ironic. After a hundred years of making sure nothing got close to him, it was a big-eared, big-footed stray that found a way inside.

“How you doin', boy?” Vax crouched down in front of Wendigo. The dog took advantage of the moment to lean into his master, resting his head on Vax's shoulder and making soft whining noises in his throat.

“Don't worry about me.” This time Vax's smile was a little more sincere. “I'm not going to disappear and forget to feed you.” At least it wasn't very likely.

Rising, he headed inside, and Wendigo fell in step behind him. As Vax reached under the sink and pulled out the heavy plastic tub where he stored the dog's food, Wendigo started dancing around, rearing up on his hind legs and poking his cold nose against Vax's side.

“I swear, you'd think it had been months since you ate. I know I fed you last night.” The evidence of said meal was still in crumbs around the dog's food dish. Vax dumped some kibble into the bowl and scooted it to the side so that Wendigo could eat while Vax cleaned up the dog's mess from last night.

He tossed the paper towels into the garbage can and put the food container away before he dropped down onto the floor next to Wendigo and rubbed the dog's back as he ate. Wendigo took a split-second break to look at his master, making that odd whining noise.

Vax smiled and tried once more to reassure the dog. “Don't worry, boy. I'm not going anywhere.”

But not even a minute passed before he realized he just might be wrong. He was in the middle of pulling some eggs from the fridge when he felt it, that odd low-key burn in his spine. A call he hadn't felt for years, and a call he never wanted to feel again. It was there, though, strong and certain. It wasn't a fluke like the mess in Utah, either. This was a flat-out call and it was directed at him.

“I'm not in the game anymore,” he said out loud. Not that there was anybody to hear him. Maybe he was just hoping he could convince himself to ignore it. Wasn't going to happen, though. It took him a whole day before he admitted he was wasting his time.

Somebody out there was in danger, and apparently it had been decided that Vax needed to play Hunter again.

 

Y
OU
need to go home
….

Jess ignored the little voice in the back of her head as she shifted on the bar stool.

There was nothing to go home to. Randi was gone; her room sat empty. Jess couldn't even lose herself in her work. She couldn't concentrate on anything but her sister's face, the way they had beaten her on that fucking video.

There was no way she could do her job. Knowing that, she'd put in for a leave of absence the day after Randi had been killed.

Jess wasn't going to try to get back to her life until she found the ones who had ended Randi's. She'd spent the past four months tracking down leads, and finally she had a solid one. Going home was not going to happen.

You were always such a stubborn girl, Jess.

Was it disrespectful to tell your mom to shut up if she was just a ghostly voice whispering in your head?

Of course, Jess was trying really hard not to acknowledge her mom's presence. Acknowledging it meant she just might have to listen to the voice of reason that seemed to echo her mother's words. Acknowledging it meant that she might have to accept that it wasn't the voice of reason—but actually her mother.

So she just ignored it.

She'd started hearing her mother's voice the day Randi had died. Why her mom's ghost had shown up then, Jess didn't know. Didn't care. Before Randi's death, Jess had missed her mom so badly, she'd have given her right arm to speak with her again, even if it was just the ghostly little whispers. But now?

Now…Jess wished that voice would go away. Nothing her mother said would change her mind.

Jess didn't want reason right now. She wanted vengeance.

And she was close. Very close. She could all but smell the blood in the air. Her skin had been buzzing ever since she'd set foot in the club. The lower level of the club was open to the public, big on goth. The upper levels were for invited members only.

Jess hadn't expected to get invited up. She'd been happy just watching from the sidelines down below, hoping that he'd show up.

His name was William Masters, and when she'd seen him two weeks earlier, she had
known
. She'd spent the past two weeks getting every bit of information she could on him. It wasn't much.

He was the one who had raped Randi. The one who had killed her. Her first instinct had been to get her gun and blow his brains out. She had bought the Browning when she was researching a story about gun crime, and she had kept it, locking it up in the fire safe under her bed. Out of curiosity, she had learned how to shoot it, and still went to the firing range two or three times a year.

After Randi died, Jess had started going to the shooting range two or three times a week, and she'd gotten her hands on specialized bullets. Jess suspected she'd need one of those special bullets for this guy. He didn't feel right.

He was a monster. He was a rapist. He was a killer. But there was more than that. He made her skin crawl.

What was he…?

Jess would find out. If she had to follow him twenty-four/seven, she'd figure it out. Her job might be a little easier if the bastard would show his damned face, but she could wait. He'd be here sooner or later.

Jess could wait.

So far, every man and the few women who had approached her had been rebuffed with a cool, impersonal smile. Jess had been watching this scene for a while now, even before Randi—
don't think about her now….

Jess had been studying the bondage scene since early summer in connection with a series of murders. The way the women had been treated prior to death smacked of somebody who took the dominance kick to a whole different level, and the way their bodies had been found, even more so.

While this wasn't exactly her scene, it wasn't one that was unfamiliar to her. Blending in was something she had a knack for—part of the reason she'd made such a good investigative reporter.

And that handy little talent hadn't ever come in so handy.

Thanks to her pale skin, the red wig she wore looked every bit as natural as her own pale blonde locks, and she had styled the wig into a tight topknot. She added a pair of nonprescription colored contacts, turning her green eyes blue. The final bits of her disguise included the clothes she wore, the makeup she'd put on using a heavy hand, and the black-rimmed glasses.

Since she rarely wore makeup and needed glasses only for reading, it was a pretty effective disguise. Jess hadn't even recognized herself when she'd looked in the mirror on her way out of the house.

So far, it seemed effective enough that she had blended into the club scene at Debach without a hitch.

Now if he would just show up.

A hot, burning tingle raced through her veins, and her fingers itched. It was a certain sign that she hadn't managed to extinguish her anger. Closing her eyes, she focused on taking slow, deep breaths and calming herself before the anger took over.