Finding Valor (11 page)

“That’s a little presumptuous.” She tugged her hand out of his grasp then folded her arms over her breasts.

“Do you have a break before you get off work? I’d like to at least buy you a drink.”

“I’ve already taken my break.” She wrote a string of numbers on the back of the receipt before handing it Hunter. “If you change your mind after midnight and I’m not here, give me a call.”

“Will do.” Hunter gave her his sexiest grin and another wink then turned around and headed toward the elevator. He had no intention of leaving his room until morning.
 

A rap on his door woke him up. At first, Hunter couldn’t remember where he was, but the glowing numbers on the clock brought it all back. Twelve fifteen. Dang. Some women just can’t take a hint. He didn’t even check the peep-hole before unbolting and opening the door. But instead of a horny desk clerk, two men in black suits filled the doorframe. Both of them mages.

Hunter’s shield snapped into place. But when the men didn’t raise theirs, he lowered his. “Sorry ‘bout that. It’s sort of an ingrained response. My ex has the nastiest stinging spell.”

The men chuckled and nodded. “Sorry to bother you, but we’re looking for a family of mages that disappeared under suspicious circumstances last August. Do you know of, or have you heard of, anyone that goes by the name of Money Kerns or Monroe Belks?”

Hunter clamped down on the fear trying to burst out of his energy field. He scratched the back of his head and frowned. “Let me think a minute. That name sounds familiar. I’ve been working out of state. Is he from around here?”

“Originally. But we know that he moved to Las Vegas.”

“Ah…that must be where I heard it. I worked at ‘Her Lady’s Pleasure’ as an exotic dancer in Vegas for a while. Do you have a picture? That might help jog my memory.”

The men sighed. “No. All we have is a description. He’s a large man, about six foot four and three hundred pounds. He also has a gambling addiction.”

“I don’t recall seeing any mages that fit that description. We get a few fellas in the club, but most of our clientele are women.” Hunter knew he needed to just shut up, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to gather a little intel. “Can I ask why y’all are looking for him? Is he in trouble?”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Brown. Enjoy your stay.” The men turned on their heels then marched down the hall.
 

Hunter waited for them to step onto the elevator then closed the door. He was tempted to get on his bike and get the hell outta there, but that would look too suspicious. No. He needed to stick to the plan. He’d told the girl at the check in counter that he was going to head out at dawn, so that’s what he’d better do. He’d also better get some sleep. Even though the trackers didn’t tell him anything, just the fact that they were still looking for Channie’s daddy meant things were more dangerous than ever. And these trackers weren’t the usual stupid scumbags. These were well-dressed, intelligent and obviously high-paid scumbags. He climbed back into bed, cast a mild be-calm spell on himself and closed his eyes.
 

He woke up the next morning, refreshed but nervous. He stuffed his belly and his backpack with biscuits, bacon and eggs from the free breakfast buffet then got on his bike and headed east down Highway 412. He stopped for fuel and groceries in Springdale then rode straight through to Whistler’s Gulch.
 

His bike was built for speed not endurance. It wouldn’t be able to negotiate what passed for roads east of Whistler’s Gulch much less get him inside mage territory. It was time to say good-bye to “The Beast.”
 

The thought of leaving his bike behind, even with protection spells, made his palms sweat. Maybe he could pay some empty to let him park it in his garage.

Hunter cut the engine in front of Sheriff Black’s double wide trailer. Normally, he stayed as far away from Sheriff Black’s place as possible, but he was hoping the man wouldn’t recognize him as the scoundrel he’d caught climbing, bare-ass-naked, out of his daughter’s bedroom window a year ago.
 

Sheriff Black opened the door in nothing but his boots, boxers and holster. His right hand rested on the grip of a pistol.

Hunter swallowed then raised the visor on his helmet. He tried to mimic Josh’s Colorado accent, but it sounded more British than midwestern. “Hello. My name’s Hunter Brown and I’m looking for a place to keep my bike for a few weeks while I visit my mother’s kinfolk. Could you recommend a good honest man with a well built garage?”

It wouldn’t matter how honest a fella was if thieves could break in.

Sheriff Black opened the door and stepped out onto his sagging porch. He stretched his neck to look around Hunter. “That’s an awful nice piece of machinery. You willing to pay rent?”

“Yes, sir. I am.”

Sheriff Black spit a stream of tobacco off to the side then reached down and scratched his crotch. “I reckon I can look after your bike for a hundred dollars a week.”

“That’s a bit steep.” Hunter was willing to pay the fee, even if it was highway robbery, but if he didn’t argue the sheriff might get suspicious.

“I’ll be guarding it as well as storing it. A hundred a week is a bargain.”

Hunter bit his lip and pretended to be thinking it over.

“I’m a generous man. How about seventy-five?” The sheriff folded his arms across his chest. “No questions asked.”

“I’ve got nothing to hide. Will you take seventy?”

The sheriff frowned then grabbed Hunter’s hand in a tight grip and shook it. “Deal.”

Hunter rolled The Beast into the garage, hooked his helmet over the handle bars and handed Sheriff Black three hundred dollars. “Here’s a month’s rent in advance. I don’t plan to stay that long, but if something should delay me, I’ll pay you one hundred dollars a week to not sell my bike.”

“What if you don’t never come back?”

Hunter took a deep breath and focused on the sheriff’s energy field. The man was hiding something. He was obviously greedy, but was he willing to commit murder in order to steal The Beast? Hunter pulled his phone out and dialed Josh’s number. It went to voice mail, but that didn’t matter. “Hey, Josh. This is Hunter. I’m leaving my bike with Sheriff Black in Whistler’s Gulch. If I’m not home in two months, come get it. And pay the man four hundred dollars rent.”

“How’d you know my name?”

Oh, shit.
“My stepfather is well connected. He ran a background check on you before I left.”

Sheriff’s face paled. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Connected how?”

“He owns a casino in Las Vegas.” Most of the casinos in Vegas were legitimate businesses, but Hunter doubted anyone in Boone County knew that. Let the sheriff think the mob would come looking for him if anything happened to Hunter.

“I hope you ain’t planning on going any further east. Folks that wander off into the mountains don’t always come back. We’ve had more missing person reports filed this past month than we have in five years.”

“I’ll be careful.” Hunter adjusted his backpack on his shoulders and started walking. He had a long way to go and the journey would only get more dangerous after dark. He’d told Josh that his heart would lead him to Channie, but the truth of the matter was he needed to be within fifty miles of anything he was hunting. And they needed to be outside so no artificial substance blocked their energy field from the living earth. His power-name didn’t work the same way a heart-bond did. There were a lot more limitations.
 

He couldn’t feel Channie yet, but he felt something else
. Someone
else. Someone that felt like family.
Shep.

Hunter’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He jumped then nearly dropped it in his hurry to answer it. He didn’t recognize the number on the screen. “Hello?”

“Hunter? Is that you?”

“Shep?”

“Where are you?”

Hunter wanted to tell him so badly it hurt, but his entire family believed he was a traitor. He needed to be careful. “Have you talked to Ms. Wisdom recently?”

“She told me all about you being a double spy. Why didn’t you tell me? Didn’t you trust me? I could have helped.”

That’s all he needed to hear. “Where are you? You feel close.”

“I can feel you, too. I’m at the Lucky Dog Saloon in Whistler’s Gulch.”

“Hot damn! I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
 

Shepherd’s power-name worked similar to Hunter’s. But he had the need to gather people together after he found them. This must be driving him nuts. “How’s the rest of the family?”

Hunter thought he’d lost the connection until Shep sighed. It took another five seconds for him to speak. His voice sounded strained.
“We’ll talk about that when you get here.”

~***~

The wooden sign hanging over the door of the Lucky Dog Saloon creaked as it swung in the breeze. Hunter pushed through the double doors and squinted. His eyes were still adjusting to the darkness inside when Shep tackled him.

They pounded each others’ backs then pulled away, sniffing and clearing their throats. Shep wrapped his fingers around the back of Hunter’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. His voice cracked. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Me too.” Hunter inhaled, drinking in Shep’s familiar scent. He smelled like woodsmoke, evergreens…and home.
 

Shep rested his hand on the back of Hunter’s neck as he led him to the knotty-pine bar. He gestured for him to take a seat.
 

Hunter slid onto a barstool and eyed the empty shot glass in front of Shep. None of the Feenie boys were opposed to alcohol but Shep had a bad experience with moonshine a few years ago and swore he’d never drink again. “Are you a drinking man now?”

“When I can get the good stuff.” He nodded at the bartender. “Billy’s got a generous heart. It don’t take much to
persuade
him to give a fella a free round every once in awhile.”

Hunter shifted his weight off his right hip and pulled out his wallet. “What are you drinking? I’ll buy the next round.”

Shep’s eyes widened when Hunter extracted a twenty dollar bill. “What’d you do? Rob a bank?”

Hunter laughed. “I got a job.”

“Channie said you was a stripper, but I had no idea it paid that good.”

Hunter froze then grabbed Shep’s arm. “You talked to Channie? When? Where is she?”

“Shh…” Shep glanced around nervously. “Keep your voice down.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes, but he also lowered his voice. “There’s no trackers in here. As far as I can tell, we’re the only mages in town.”

Shep leaned sideways and whispered into Hunter’s ear. “Half the empties in town are on the Veyjivik payroll. Don’t trust nobody.”

Hunter scooped the twenty and his driver’s license off the bar and stood up. “How about we grab a fifth of Jack Daniel’s at the liquor store and finish this conversation somewhere else?”

Shep nodded and followed Hunter outside.

Hunter sat on a fallen log and opened the bottle of whiskey. He took a sip and clenched his jaw to keep from coughing then passed it to Shep. He waited for the burn to mellow then cleared his throat. “So, where’s Channie?”

Shep took a slightly bigger sip then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “At the Kerns’ place.”

“What?” That couldn’t be right. “Channie’s momma’s crazy but she ain’t stupid.”

“She’s got it somewhat protected with misdirection and keep-away spells, but someone destroyed most of the old trees and bushes in the yard. She’s replanted saplings but everything’s too small to hold much magic. I had no problem breaking past her defenses.”

“Neither will a tracker.” Hunter capped the bottle of Jack. “Let’s go.”

“She ain’t as vulnerable as you think.” Shep stood up and dropped his pants, revealing an angry red scar on his thigh.

“What happened?”

“Twelve-gauge shotgun.”

“Channie shot you?” Hunter’s mouth fell open.

“I hear I ain’t the only one.”

“You heard about that?”

Shep nodded.

“It was an accident.” Hunter unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulder, revealing his own scar. “She thought I was a tracker.”

“That’s the excuse she gave me, too.”

“It’s not an excuse. She was kidnapped and raped by a tracker.”

Shep’s eyes blazed as his nostrils flared. “She didn’t mention that part.”

“It ain’t something she likes to talk about.”

“How’d she get away from him?”

“She killed him.”

Shep’s lips curled up at the corners. “Good for her.”

“But that was before she lost her magic. Come on. We need to at least expand the perimeter of the misdirection spells around her cabin.”

Shep snagged the elbow of Hunter’s jacket and nodded at the log they’d been sitting on. “First, I need to tell you some bad news. You better sit down.”

Hunter had suspected for months that most, if not all, of his family had perished. But suspecting something horrible and learning it was actually true were two very different things. He reopened the bottle of Jack and chugged three mouthfuls of the fiery liquid. It burned, but not as bad as the raw gaping hole in his chest. The space where his heart and lungs should have been was nothing but a chasm of pain. He couldn’t breathe. A wave of calm swept over him. He looked at Shep through blurry eyes and nodded his thanks for the be-calm spell. His voice still cracked when he spoke. “Are you sure?”

Shep nodded. “I buried them myself.”

“How’d it happen?”

“We’d been in hiding for over a month. We thought our misdirection spells would keep us safe, and they did…at first. The low-life scumbag trappers couldn’t find us. We found their tracks all around our perimeter but none of them ever breached it. We put too much faith in magic and not enough in bullets.”

Shep tugged the bottle out of Hunter’s numb fingers and took a long pull. “Me and Steward was out trying to scrounge up something to eat when we heard the shots.”

Shep handed the bottle to Hunter and stared off into space. “Pa wanted me to bag a deer, so he’d given me the shotgun. They never had a chance.”

Hunter took another swig of whiskey, but it didn’t help.