Deadly Pursuit (A Blood Hunter Novel, #2) (64 page)

Daisy
was
back
in
the
pilot’s
seat,
and
Rico
was
nowhere
to
be
seen.
He
appeared
a
moment
later,
waving
a
silver
flask
in
his
hand.
Alex
watched
through
narrowed
eyes
as
he
crossed
to
where
Jon
stood
and
lifted
the
flask.

“Hey,
dog-boy,
you
look
like
you
need
a
drink.”

“Yeah.”

“Then
let’s
get
out
of
here.”

Jon
cast
her
a
last
quick
glance
then
shrugged
and
followed
the
vampire.
Alex
rose
to
her
feet,
meaning
to
go
after
them,
but
Tannis
stopped
her
with
a
hand
on
her
arm.
“Let
them
go.
He
needs
some
time.”

Alex
took
a
deep
breath
and
sank
down
into
the
chair
behind
her,
staring
at
the
space
where
he’d
disappeared.
“What
if
we
don’t
have
any
time?”

…

Jon
followed
Rico
into
the
main
meeting
room,
spacious
and
airy
with
a
number
of
chairs
scattered
around.
Like
the
rest
of
the
ship
aside
from
the
bridge,
there
were
no
portholes
and
the
decor
was
the
standard
black
and
silver.

Rico
crossed
the
room,
sat
down,
and
placed
the
silver
flask
on
the
table
in
front
of
him.
From
under
the
table,
he
drew
out
two
crystal
glasses
and
placed
them
next
to
the
flask.
When
he
saw
Jon
still
hovering
in
the
doorway,
he
gestured
to
the
seat
opposite.

Jon
had
no
clue
what
Rico
wanted.
Maybe
to
tell
him
they’d
made
a
mistake
and
should
have
left
him
to
rot
on
Trakis
Five.
But
he
didn’t
think
so.

The
metal
floor
was
cool
and
smooth
under
his
feet
as
he
crossed
the
room
and
sank
into
a
chair.
Resting
his
head
on
the
back,
he
stared
at
the
pattern
on
the
ceiling.
He
felt
eons
better,
but
nowhere
near
perfect.
His
stomach
still
churned
with
nausea,
and
he
couldn’t
imagine
ever
feeling
warm
again.

“So
how
are
you
feeling?”
Rico
filled
the
two
glasses
and
handed
one
to
Jon.

“Like
shit.”
Jon
lifted
the
glass
and
studied
the
contents.
The
liquid
was
golden,
slightly
viscous.
He
sniffed
it
dubiously
but
couldn’t
place
the
smell.
Maybe
Rico
had
decided
to
poison
him
after
all
and
hand
his
body
over
to
the
Collective
as
a
sign
of
good
faith.
“What
is
this
crap?”

“Whiskey,”
Rico
replied.
“It’s
not
poisonous,
though
it
was
banned
back
in
the
twenty-first
century
as
deleterious
to
health.”

“Perfect.”
Jon
drank
the
liquid
down
in
one
gulp,
then
sat
back
as
the
fire
burned
right
down
to
his
belly.
“Jesus.”
He
held
out
the
empty
glass,
and
Rico
grinned
and
refilled
it.

Jon
sipped
the
drink
this
time,
the
warmth
radiating
out
from
his
stomach
and
warming
him
from
the
inside.
The
shivers
that
racked
his
body
slowly
subsided,
and
he
relaxed
against
the
chair
back,
closing
his
eyes.

He
remembered
Alex’s
expression
as
he’d
walked
out.
She
would
want
to
talk.
Women
always
wanted
to
talk.
What
the
hell
was
he
supposed
to
say
to
her?
What
did
he
want
from
her?
What
was
he
capable
of
giving
in
return?

He
was
bad
news
and
always
had
been.
But
maybe
he
could
change.
Maybe
he’d
already
changed.

Shit.

He
couldn’t
cope
right
now.

When
he
opened
his
eyes,
he
saw
that
his
glass
was
empty
and
held
it
out
for
a
refill.
Rico
raised
an
eyebrow
but
emptied
the
silver
flask
into
the
glass.
He
shook
the
empty
container.
“I’ll
go
get
a
refill.”

Jon
nodded
absently.
Why
was
he
worrying
about
anything?
Chances
were,
the
Collective
would
catch
up
with
them
any
moment
now
and
that
would
be
the
end.
They
would
all
die.
He
wasn’t
quite
as
full
of
self-pity
as
to
claim
that
was
his
fault.
No
one
had
forced
them
into
breaking
him
free.
But
he
was
glad
they
had.

Maybe
he
should
have
made
Alex
stay
with
that
Sister
Martha
woman
and
go
back
to
the
Church.
Though
actually,
thinking
about
it,
she’d
probably
be
better
off
dead.

Rico
came
back
and
placed
the
flask
on
the
table
between
them.
“Alex
wants
to
know
what
I’ve
done
with
you.
You
know,
I
don’t
think
that
girl
trusts
me.
Actually…never
has.”

Jon
sat
up
straight.
“And
why’s
that?
What
did
you
do
to
her?”

“Absolutely
nothing.
Didn’t
lay
a
finger
on
her.
Or
a
fang.
Anyway,
I
told
her
to
go
to
bed.
You’d
see
her
tomorrow.
She
looks
almost
as
bad
as
you
do.”

“Yeah,
it’s
been
a
rough
few
days.”
He
sipped
his
drink.
“Why
did
you
come
back
for
me?”

Rico
stretched
his
booted
legs
out
in
front
of
him,
resting
them
on
the
table
while
he
considered
the
question.
“Because
you’re
crew.”

“Since
when?”

Rico
shrugged.
“Since
the
captain
decided
you
were.
But
I’m
guessing
back
on
Trakis
Two,
when
you
saved
Alex
from
Bastian.”

“I
didn’t
save
her.
I
was
just
first
on
the
scene.”

“No,
we
were
too
far
behind;
she
would
have
been
dead
by
the
time
we
got
there.”

“Maybe.
It
doesn’t
matter.
It
was
a
reflex
thing.”

“Yeah.
I
bet
it
can
be
really
inconvenient.”

“What?”

“That
reflex
of
yours.
The
need
to
save
everyone.”

Jon
gritted
his
teeth.
“I
don’t
need
to
save
everyone.”

“Come
off
it—you’re
an
alpha
werewolf.
Yeah—you’ve
got
to
be
a
good
fighter,
better
than
the
rest,
but
the
real
thing
that
makes
an
alpha
is
the
need
to
protect,
to
look
after
the
pack.”

“Well,
it
turned
out
I
wasn’t
too
good
at
that.”

Rico
topped
up
his
glass.
“What
happened?”

Jon
pursed
his
lips,
but
maybe
Rico
had
a
right
to
know.
This
was
his
ship
and
Jon
was
now
crew.
Apparently.
For
however
short
a
time
they
had
left.
“My
pack
was
slaughtered.
I
didn’t
protect
them.”

“Was
it
the
Church?”

“Indirectly.
They
didn’t
actually
kill
them,
but
they
got
the
locals
riled
up
into
a
frenzy
of
hatred
against
us.
We
lived
on
one
of
the
outer
planets.
We
were
fine
until
the
colonists
came,
and
even
then,
we
were
okay
for
a
long
time—we
kept
to
ourselves.
But
the
humans
bred
like
fucking
rabbits.
We
needed
space
to
run,
and
they
wanted
more
land.”

“Where
were
you
when
it
happened?”

“Off
planet.
I
was
always
off
planet.”
He
leaned
across
and
topped
off
his
drink.
“You
know,
me
and
Alex,
we
aren’t
that
much
different.
Both
yearning
for
the
stars.
Both
of
us
running
away
from
our
responsibilities.”

“Except
Alex
didn’t
choose
her
responsibilities,
whereas
I’m
presuming
you
did
choose
yours.”

“Maybe.
I
did
kill
the
old
Alpha.”

“Why?”

After
all
these
years,
he
still
experienced
the
same
rush
of
hatred.
“Because
he
was
a
fucking
bastard,
and
he
deserved
to
die.”

“He
was
the
one
who
changed
you?”

Jon
nodded
curtly.
“He
was
a
bad
leader,
and
there
was
a
lot
of
infighting
in
the
pack.
He
encouraged
the
younger
wolves
to
fight
among
themselves,
and
he
killed
any
potential
alphas
himself.
The
numbers
were
dwindling,
and
they
needed
new
blood.
They
picked
on
me,
because
I
was
a
sheriff,
and
they
thought
I
might
be
useful.”

“You
were
a
lawman?”
Rico
sounded
incredulous.

“Yeah,
so?”

“Well,
from
sheriff
to
alpha
werewolf
to
assassin.
Quite
some
career
changes
you’ve
had
there.”

“Whatever—he
made
a
mistake
picking
me.
The
only
way
to
get
rid
of
an
alpha
is
to
kill
him.
I’d
never
killed
anyone,
so
it
took
me
a
while
to
work
up
to
it,
but
I
got
there
in
the
end.”

“So
this
guy
was
presumably
responsible
for
the
death
of
your
wife.”

“Yeah,
someone
else
I
failed
to
protect.”

Rico
grinned.
“
Dios
,
you
are
one
miserable,
self-pitying
bastard.”

“It’s
not
self-pity,
it’s
the
goddamned
truth.”
Jon
shrugged
and
turned
away.
“Okay,
maybe
a
little
bit
of
self-pity.”

The
whiskey
was
loosening
his
brain.
If
he
lowered
his
lids,
the
room
swayed
around
him.
He
liked
the
sensation.
Maybe
he
would
keep
drinking,
then
he
wouldn’t
even
know
when
the
Collective
turned
up
and
killed
them
all.