Deadly Pursuit (A Blood Hunter Novel, #2) (72 page)

“Yeah,
and
this
way
he’ll
be
dead,
they
both
will—and
you
won’t
be
living
with
him
at
all.”

“Maybe.”
She
shrugged.
“Probably.”

He
threw
his
hands
in
the
air
and
stalked
away
to
glare
out
of
the
window.
Why
the
hell
couldn’t
the
bloody
vampire
mind
his
own
goddamn
business?
This
was
Jon’s
decision.
He’d
accepted
it.
Hell,
Rico
probably
couldn’t
face
the
idea
of
someone
getting
more
of
the
glory
than
him.
Even
if
that
someone
was
dead.

He
rested
his
forehead
against
the
cool
glass.
There
was
only
one
good
thing
about
this
whole
mess.
“At
least
Alex
will
be
safe
on
El
Cazador
,”
he
said.
“I
hope
Daisy
has
orders
to
get
the
hell
out
of
here.”

“Alex
is
with
them.”

At
her
quietly
spoken
words,
he
spun
around.
She
was
still
seated
but
watching
him
warily.
His
brain
refused
to
make
sense
of
her
words.

“What
do
you
mean
she’s
with
them?”

“Alex
is
with
Rico
and
Tannis—she
wouldn’t
stay
behind.
She
wanted
to
come.”

“What
the
hell
has
that
got
to
do
with
anything?
They
could
have
tied
her
up,
drugged
her…”
He
paced
the
floor
as
his
panic
mounted.
“You
have
to
get
out
of
here.
Now.
Stop
them.”

“I
can’t.
There’s
no
way
I’ll
be
allowed
to
leave
until
the
link
is
done.”

Jon
slammed
his
fist
into
the
metal
table
as
a
wave
of
hopelessness
washed
over
him.
It
was
going
to
happen
again.
He’d
be
unable
to
save
her,
and
she
would
die.
They
all
would.
Not
if
he
could
help
it.

“Jon?”

“What?”

“It’s
too
late
anyway.
The
colonel
is
here.”

It
took
a
moment
for
her
words
to
make
sense.
Then
he
concentrated
and
heard
the
sound
of
booted
feet
on
the
corridor
outside.
Maybe
if
this
was
over
with
fast,
Skylar
could
get
away
and
stop
them
before
they
reached
the
compound.

“Will
this
colonel
be
able
to
pick
up
that
the
others
are
coming?”

“Only
if
he
asks
specifically.
There’s
too
much
going
on
in
a
mind,
especially
down
deep.
You
can’t
pick
up
everything.”

“Okay.
Well,
just
do
this
quick.”

He
sat
in
the
chair
and
tried
to
keep
his
panic
from
showing
too
clearly,
but
sweat
was
breaking
out
on
his
forehead
and
a
tremor
shook
his
hands
where
they
rested
on
his
thighs.

Christ,
his
life
had
taken
some
strange
turns,
but
his
death
was
turning
out
to
be
far
stranger.
Sitting
here,
willing
them
to
come
along
and
kill
him.
Terrified
his
executioner
wouldn’t
get
here
fast
enough.
But
beneath
the
terror
was
a
burgeoning
exhilaration.
He’d
been
trying
not
to
think
about
it—because
it
only
made
what
he
was
doing
harder—but
he’d
known
they
would
come
after
him
if
they
discovered
what
he’d
done.
And
not
just
Alex,
but
Tannis
and
Janey
and
Daisy,
even
the
Trog.
Because
he
was
one
of
them.
He
belonged;
he
was
part
of
something.
He
pressed
his
fingertips
to
his
eyes.
Why
now,
when
it
was
too
late?

The
door
opened,
and
a
man
stepped
inside.
Jon
caught
a
glimpse
of
two
guards
taking
up
position
outside
the
door
before
it
closed
behind
him.
The
colonel
wore
the
same
uniform
as
Skylar—a
plain
black
jumpsuit
with
the
insignia
of
the
Corps
at
his
breast.
He
appeared
more
boy
than
man
with
a
pale,
unlined
face,
but
when
Jon
peered
into
his
eyes,
he
saw
the
years
reflected
in
their
violet
depths.

Skylar
rose
and
stood
to
attention;
Jon
guessed
the
action
was
instinctive.
He
stayed
where
he
was
and
kept
his
lips
clamped
together
to
stop
anything
stupid
from
escaping,
but
the
colonel
ignored
him
anyway
and
concentrated
on
Skylar.

“Lieutenant.”

“Sir.”

“Are
you
ready?”

She
nodded.
The
colonel
moved
to
stand
in
front
of
her
only
inches
away,
his
right
hand
resting
on
her
shoulder.
Both
of
them
closed
their
eyes.
It
seemed
like
an
age
to
Jon,
but
it
was
probably
only
a
few
seconds,
when
the
colonel
blinked
and
took
a
step
back.

He
glanced
toward
Jon.
“So
Aiden
Ross
committed
suicide?”

“Yes,
sir.”
Skylar
replied.

“But
you
don’t
know
why?”

“No,
sir.”

He
studied
her
for
a
moment
longer,
then
nodded
toward
the
door.
“You’re
free
to
go.”

Skylar
shook
her
head.
“I’ll
wait.”

Jon
wanted
to
tell
her
that
he
didn’t
need
an
audience
for
this.
But
in
fact,
the
idea
that
there
was
a
friend
present
at
his
death
was
strangely
comforting.
For
a
second
he
wished
Alex
were
there
to
hold
his
hand.

The
colonel
shrugged
and
drew
his
laser
pistol.
Jon
wondered
whether
he
should
stand
up
or
remain
seated.
Was
there
an
etiquette
involved
with
your
own
execution?
He
decided
to
stay
seated.
It
wasn’t
that
his
legs
wouldn’t
hold
him,
but
why
risk
it?

The
pistol
pointed
straight
at
his
chest
now.
But
still
the
colonel
didn’t
shoot.
Jon
wasn’t
afraid
to
die—not
really—but
this
long,
drawn-out
process
was
giving
him
the
jitters.
Why
couldn’t
the
guy
get
on
with
it?

He
caught
a
movement
out
of
the
corner
of
his
eye.
Skylar’s
hand
moved
to
rest
on
her
own
pistol,
her
grip
tightening.

He
shook
his
head.

For
a
moment,
he
thought
she
would
ignore
his
silent
plea,
but
her
hand
dropped
to
her
side,
and
she
nodded
once.

“Tell
them
thanks
for
trying,”
he
said.
“Tell
them
it
meant
a
lot.”

Skylar
bit
her
lip,
her
shoulders
tense.
“I
will.”

Jon
turned
back
to
the
colonel.
“For
fuck’s
sake
get
on
with
it,”
he
snarled.
“I
don’t
have
all
day.”

Amusement
glinted
in
the
colonel’s
eyes,
but
instead
of
getting
on
with
it,
he
lowered
the
pistol
so
it
hung
at
his
side.
“You’re
obviously
eager
to
die,
but
unfortunately,
there’s
been
a
delay.”

Jon
had
to
stifle
the
urge
to
grab
the
laser
pistol
and
shoot
himself.
The
whole
situation
was
turning
into
a
farce.
How
hard
could
it
be
to
get
someone
to
kill
you?
Even
now,
Alex
might
be
poised
outside,
ready
to
storm
the
place
and
go
down
in
a
blaze
of
glory.
Goddamn
idiot!

“A
delay?
What
sort
of
delay?”

Some
unspoken
communication
passed
between
Skylar
and
the
colonel.
Her
eyes
widened,
filling
with
a
barely
suppressed
excitement.

“What’s
going
on,
Skylar?”

“Callum
Meridian
is
coming.
He
wants
to
talk
to
you
before…”
She
waved
in
the
general
direction
of
the
colonel’s
laser.

“We
do
not
have
time
for
this,”
he
ground
out.

“But
Callum
Meridian…”
Her
tone
rang
with
pure
awe.