Hunter's Mark
By V.S. Morgan
3.5/5
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About this ebook
Artist Casey Smith lives a quiet life, under the radar of his enemies, until one fateful night he loses control and the astonishing image of a wolf racing down a suburban street splashes all over social media.
Hunter’s bullet never misses its target. The assassin seeks out and kills his prey with a clear conscience by following two simple rules: 1) Don’t kill innocents. 2) Don’t kill shifters.
Realizing his latest assignment violates those rules, the hunter activates Princess Protocol and the assassin becomes the protector. Red hot attraction flares between the hit man and his former target. Can Hunter resist the sweet shifter in his care?
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Hunter's Mark - V.S. Morgan
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Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Hunter’s Mark
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2014 by V.S. Morgan
ISBN: 978-1-61333-744-8
Cover art by Syneca Featherstone
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
Look for us online at:
www.decadentpublishing.com
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Also by V.S. Morgan
The Gift
Hunter’s Mark
By
V.S. Morgan
A Beyond Fairytales Adaptation of
The Skillful Huntsman
~Dedication~
To Ben, my wonderful son and plot bunny sounding board. Thank you to Joan and my Short in Six sisters for all your support.
Prologue
Gather round, my friends! Place a few coins in my hat there, for I have a story for you!
Nicodemus called to the people passing by with their corn dogs, cotton candy, and carnival prizes. The lights from the rides and the booths lit up the night sky, and the muted sounds of delighted screams and laughter filled the late summer air.
The storyteller, as old as the hills with his wrinkled face and gray bramble bush of a beard, sat upon a small wooden stool. His eyes sparkled with the knowledge of the ages. His beard rustled, and an electric-blue tarantula emerged, waving its hairy arms as if in greeting before settling on the wizened man’s bony shoulder.
Coins jangled into the hat, and a small crowd settled on the grass around the old imp. They quieted as he raised a gnarled hand to get their attention.
"Once upon a time, there was a young shifter. Desperate to feed his poor family, he stole motor vehicles.
"The authorities apprehended the boy one day, and he had to choose between going to prison and joining the military. Knowing his wolf would die in confinement, he enlisted in the Marine Corps, where he learned many skills. He was an exceptional marksman, for his bullet never missed its target.
"After serving with human soldiers in faraway lands, the young shifter wanted to do something different. Along came a man who offered him a new job, a hunter to seek out and kill the most horrible of mankind.
For many years, the hunter sought and killed his prey with a clear conscience, for they were indeed the foulest of men. Until, one day, he discovered a mark unlike any other….
Chapter One
The assassin parked the non-descript car a few houses back from the address Ops had provided.
Thumbing the touchpad at the side of his smart shades, Hunter displayed the picture of his latest target. He grunted in disgust at the grainy quality of the image. What amateur had taken it? Even the shittiest phones could do a hundred times better than this.
Time to check in with his handler.
Call Rex,
he said to his shades, which made Google Glass look like a Cracker Jack prize.
What up, my man?
At the target’s residence. Recon begins.
Roger that,
Rex responded.
He ended the connection and ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. Hunter stared at the tiny house. While all the other houses in this hood were downright trashy with jungles for lawns, the place he surveyed was clean and well cared for. Hell, there were even flowers growing in pots, and a wind chime hung from the eaves of the porch. Someone had kept the yard clear of junk and had mowed it trim and tight.
His targets were always the sickest pieces of shit this world had to offer. Murderers, human traffickers, drug lords—the list was long. And none of them had lived in a pad done up all Martha fuckin’ Stewart.
This is why he insisted on doing recon. He had no problem killing dirtbags, but it wasn’t his style to go in guns blazing. He had forty-eight hours to smoke this guy, and the details had been surprisingly thin. Name, age, and address. No background. Oh, yeah, and a cool two million for a successful hit. With his share of the cut, Mikaela could get that surgery, and he could retire to wherever the hell assassins go…maybe somewhere warm.
A minivan drove by and parked in front of the target’s house.
Run Oregon license plate Charley Delta Alpha five-three-seven,
he said.
A plump white lady in a purple cotton top and yoga pants got out and approached the house.
His optic display showed the car belonged to Helena Reynolds, age fifty-five. He pulled up her details. A university faculty member, she volunteered at a local community center, which ran both a soup kitchen and food pantry.
He switched off the visual while she rang the doorbell. His entire body went into go
mode as the front door opened. In full HD clarity, Casey Smith appeared younger than the twenty-four years listed. What the fuck could someone this young have done to warrant a two million dollar price on his head?
The target carried a large cardboard box overflowing with vegetables to the minivan while the lady talked nonstop at him. He appeared healthy and clean, but his clothes were cheap and worn. He wore a holey,