Hired Killer (Cryptid Assassin Book 1) Read online

  "It’s good to know Banks' opinion of me hasn’t spread to the rest of the FBI." He grinned and leaned back in his seat.

  "I wouldn't say that," she replied. "She has a personal reason to dislike you. And since it is personal, I don't think it's my place to discuss it."

  "What isn't your place to discuss?" Banks asked as she entered the call.

  "Your personal life," Desk answered honestly.

  "Right. I'd appreciate it if you steered away from that topic while talking," the agent said but showed no emotional response one way or the other.

  "You should have let me know you were turning this into a three-way," Taylor said. "How can I help you, Banks?'

  There was a pause, which he had expected. He was in a playful mood and maybe his two handlers weren't quite in the same mindset. They weren't looking at a long drive ahead of them—something he enjoyed despite the time constraints.

  "I believe he means that he didn’t expect you to turn it into a three-way call," Desk explained. "Although I guess there was supposed to be an undertone of sexual innuendo."

  "Thanks, Desk," Banks said. "I think I understood. Anyway, McFadden, this is Desk. She'll deal with your day-to-day operations as well as the money-handling and getting you anything you need when you need it like we discussed."

  "And here I was hoping that you'd changed your mind about handling me," he responded with a small grin.

  "I know you were looking forward to working with me." Sarcasm dripped from her voice. "Unfortunately, I have a number of other assholes I need to handle in this task force so I have to delegate the handling duties."

  "Well, I can certainly understand you wanting to have as many assholes in your hands as possible," he said with a soft chuckle and more silence followed over the line.

  "I believe he is attempting more humor through sexual innuendo," Desk explained again helpfully.

  "Yes, I think I caught a whiff of that." The agent definitely sounded a little more annoyed now. "If we can all be adults, why don't you break the news you called me for?"

  "No and yes," Taylor replied in response to her requests.

  "Right," Desk said. "I was alerted to a ticket that was issued by the local road authorities regarding a vehicle I was supposed to keep an eye out for. It would appear that you have been speeding somewhat on your way to DC, Mr. McFadden."

  "That sounds like the kind of thing you should handle from now on, Desk," Banks said.

  "Well, yes, but I was merely alerting you to it."

  "And if I have complaints about Desk, should I bring them up with you too, Banks?" Taylor asked.

  Another moment of silence followed although this one didn't require an explanation from Desk.

  "Let me know if you have any trouble handling the ticket, Desk," Banks said without addressing his question. "Banks out."

  She hung up her side of the line.

  "Do you think it's wise to antagonize her like that?" Desk asked.

  "Hell, I don't know," he replied. "I kind of antagonize everyone and those few who see through it and recognize the humor behind it are the ones I'm proud to call my friends."

  "So, your abrasive style is something of a barrier you put up," she concluded. "It protects you against those you fear will hurt you and only lets in those who have similar barriers and so can understand."

  "Well, it sounds like you should be a therapist," he quipped with a nod. "Hell, you sound like my therapist."

  "You're not currently undergoing any kind of therapy," she pointed out.

  "Well, yeah, but the therapist I used to have before they finished my honorable discharge. Doctor…I want to say Bedford?"

  "Jane Bedford, yes."

  "Well, it seems like you've read my file. Is there anything you don't know about me?"

  "Only what hasn't been made a part of your official military record," she said. "As well as what hasn't been posted online in some form or another. It’s an egregious gap in my knowledge, I know, but I hope to close it while we work together."

  "What, so you think you're the kind of person who can handle my abrasive nature?" A small smile touched his face.

  "I think I can handle it," she assured him. "It was my job to study every inch of your available file and I was the one who asked to be assigned to you, so I think we should be able to work swimmingly together."

  "I think you should know that I don't do much in the way of long-term relationships," he said, prompted by a vague suspicion where the conversation might be leading.

  "Well, you should know that I don't do relationships at all," Desk replied without so much as a beat between their sentences. "But that shouldn't keep us from working well together. Those were the only parameters I took into account when I selected your file from thirty-four others."

  "I have to say, that warms this long-dead heart of mine. Seriously, though, you have to know I'm not easy to work with, right? If you have my file, that is."

  "I know," she said. "But I still think that despite our difficulties, we would achieve the best results."

  Taylor nodded. "That sounds fair. I like having a little give and take with the people I charge into the fray with. Well, technically, you don’t actually go into it with me, but it's about as close as I can ask for."

  "Indeed it is, and indeed I do not," Desk said emphatically. "Call me a coward, but I've seen footage of what happens in the Zoo and I'll choose virtually anything else any day of the week, thanks."

  "You’ll get no judgment from me."

  "Excellent." She sounded like she was smiling. "Judgement is one of the most annoying human characteristics. While I'm sure there will be judgment from you, I will be happy as long as you keep it to yourself."

  "Don't forget, I'll still be an abrasive asshole," he reminded her. "Banks said so."

  "And she was right, too. In more pressing news, the ticket has been handled. You should note that this was only because you are on the job—or on the way to the job, at least. Your regular speeding will not be taken care of in a similar fashion."

  "I can’t argue with that and I'm only speeding because I want to get there as quickly as possible."

  "Which is why it was handled. I will keep you apprised of any new developments."

  "Have a great day," he said but she had already hung up. It took a moment before he realized he was talking to himself. "I like her."

  Chapter Twenty

  It was a long drive, but he was finally there.

  Well, technically, it had been a shorter drive than his trip to Vegas, but that was only because he hadn't been in a rush on that trip. It wasn't that he didn't think Banks would wait for him. She had expended enough effort to get him on board that she would have been willing to wait a few days more. Of course, she would complain about it ad nauseam.

  Still, she wasn’t his greatest motivation. What spurred him to hurry was the very real truth that he didn't like the idea of there being Zoo monsters in the US. He didn't approve of them being as close as the Sahara. Alien critters that killed anything and everything on sight were welcome only on the alien planet they had come from, thank you very much.

  Having them in the US when he planned to retire as far away as he could from what he was sure was the coming apocalypse was not acceptable. He knew he was being a little selfish about it, but what was the point of doing everything he had and not being selfish about it when he was out?

  His own feelings aside, there were people to help and save and folks who needed to be protected from the jaws of the crazed monsters. While that was important too and he could at least recognize it, he also couldn’t pretend that his primary focus wasn’t on solidifying his retirement situation. That would simply be a lie.

  And his mother didn't raise a liar. An asshole, maybe, but not a liar.

  All that notwithstanding, an endless supply of coffee interspersed with less than healthy meals from roadside diners had helped him through the drive across the country and he made it in two days. Liz had been put through her pace
s, no question about that, and the improvements he and Bobby had put into her had certainly proven their worth. It wasn't something he wanted to do often, of course, especially when he faced a fight on the other side of it, but it was something to keep in mind for later trips.

  Assuming there were later trips—which, of course, he did. Somehow, the notion that this was something he was supposed to do had settled in. He didn’t quite know where it came from or what it meant, exactly, and decided not to explore it too deeply. There were monsters to be annihilated, after all, and that took precedence over weird flights of fancy.

  When he drew up at the office Desk had directed him to, Banks stepped out of the building and narrowed her eyes like she didn't quite believe what she was seeing.

  "So, you drove across the country?" she asked, raised an eyebrow, and scrutinized the dust-covered vehicle.

  "That, or you're one hell of a convincing hallucination," he retorted. "I mean, like, top-notch."

  "You look like you're sleep-deprived," she snarked and stated the obvious. "Did you get any rest on the drive over here?"

  "I took power naps here and there when I needed them."

  "Power naps?"

  "You know, the naps where you drink a double espresso before you take a fifteen-minute nap which gives you the power of a nap and the kick of coffee all in one? Come on. Someone in your position has to have at least heard of power naps. It's what most people in law enforcement live off. Also doctors, I've heard. The medical kind, anyway."

  "I know what a power nap is." She scowled at him and shook her head. "I merely think it's a temporary solution at best and incredibly unhealthy for you, especially considering what you drove all the way here for."

  "That is a good point," he agreed.

  "Do you think you should get some sleep before we get started?" she asked but he could read the impatience on her face.

  "I came here to drink a literal gallon of coffee and kick ass," Taylor said firmly. "And I'm all out of coffee, so we might as well get started on this shit before I crash."

  "What happens if you crash while you're out in the field?"

  "Well, if that happens, you will at least be able to describe what you're hunting for the next guy who takes the job.” He grinned. "And you don't have to work with me. It sounds like a huge win-win for you if we're honest."

  "True," she admitted. "Come on in. I have new files for you to look at. Some park rangers went out in their free time, thinking it was a bear or something like that. Their bodies were found a few hours ago and in a pretty foul condition too."

  "Well, if there's anything in the world I want to see, it's pictures of bodies in a foul condition." He grimaced and gestured toward the building behind her. "Show me the way."

  "Only a gallon of coffee? Nothing else?"

  "I plead the fifth," he replied and followed her inside.

  They moved through the small building to an office on the third floor where she had apparently been set up. The Cryptid Task Force or whatever the name of it was apparently didn't have much in the way of a budget—or, at least, not enough of a budget to justify having its own office in the actual FBI headquarters in the city. Most of the money probably went into paying the hunters who were called in.

  He could see how that was both possible and logical. They would give the task force a budget but there would also be priorities. Those obviously didn’t include having a nice comfortable office for the handler to work from.

  With that said, it was really all that was needed. They moved to the desk where the pictures were apparently still in a courier pouch, waiting for them.

  "See if you can figure out what we're looking at here," Banks said and dropped into the chair on the other side of the desk.

  Taylor took a seat as well, removed the pictures from the file, and narrowed his eyes as he tried to make some sense of what he was looking at. There really wasn't any preparation for the horrifying things that could be done to a human body when someone or something was willing to do it.

  The sterile pictures depicting the bodies were a little sickening to look at, even for him.

  "If I remember the files correctly, there were reported sightings of strange beasts in the area," he said and studied the images one by one. It helped if he stepped into a kind of clinical detachment. "They were routinely ignored until the bodies began to appear, right?"

  "Correct," Banks said. "Even then, we didn't realize it could be our kind of case until classified documents of tests run on the goop coming out of the Zoo were made available to us from labs that worked directly with the Pentagon. Honestly, we're still not sure since there aren't any solid sightings of what might be doing this. Be ready for that since there will be considerable hearsay and sifting through to find the truth."

  "That sounds about right. I'll bet that there are more than enough reports of the fucking Bigfoot out there to make your people take most of the eyewitness reports with the proverbial grain of salt."

  "A grain? Make that a fucking bag," Banks retorted. "But for every hundred Bigfoot or Yeti sightings, there can be one or two who actually see monsters out there. We tend to gravitate toward the sightings where bodies have appeared in the area."

  "That makes sense.” He narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer to the picture in his hands. "I don't suppose you have the coroner reports too?"

  "In the bag," she said, and he pulled out the reports from the medical officers who had examined the bodies.

  "Okay, that’s interesting." He retrieved the reports on the other two bodies.

  "What?"

  "Look at this. Most animals, when they hunt something, tend to make more of a mess of it. They eat all the muscle tissue as well as the organs and usually only leave skin, hair, and bones out, right?"

  "Gross." She shuddered. "But continue."

  "Gross maybe, but that's how most animals hunt. In this case, though, the bodies were savaged almost like an animal would, but most of the muscle tissue is left untouched with a focus on the internal organs. Two of the cases have the heart missing. In all the park rangers, their livers were gone."

  "What makes the liver special?"

  "It's the most nutritious body part, for one thing. Hunters like to call it nature's multivitamin."

  "Would animals know about that?"

  "I don't see how they would." He shook his head. "It's why they usually go for everything they can eat, although they tend to gravitate toward it since it has the most taste of all the organs. But they still take everything else. With these, though, it looks like the livers are removed and everything else is left."

  "So, are we looking at some kind of Hannibal Lecter wannabe?" Banks asked and leaned back in her seat, an expression of discomfort on her face.

  "Well, if we are, it’s some kind of crossover with Wolverine or something," Taylor said. "There are claw marks all over, mostly to tear into the body. Oh, and in park ranger number two, you can see the ribs were ripped open from the inside."

  "How strong do you have to be to do that?"

  He shrugged. "I have no fucking clue, but I would guess a little stronger than your average human."

  "So it’s probably not an animal and probably not a human," Banks said and nodded. "It sounds like our kind of case."

  "It merits investigation, anyway," he agreed. "Although you probably already knew that since you wanted me all the fucking way out here, right?"

  "No prizes for that one." She grinned, then sobered and her gaze flicked to the images. "How do you propose we go after this bastard?"

  "When in the Zoo, you don't generally try to track the monsters," he said and shrugged. "It kind of works the other way around. With that said, something that big and that strong has to leave distinct tracks. With a little help from my suit, I think I should be able to find it."

  "Finding it is only step one," she reminded him. "Steps two, three, and four involve killing it, making sure there aren't any more around, and getting the body back for us to identify and pay you
for it."

  "That seems reasonable enough. Although you have to understand that there are occasions where there won't be enough of a body to bring back and you'll have to settle for, like…a head or an arm or something. Those fuckers take a shit-ton of killing when they are worked up."

  "I understand that and an actual body isn't always required," she said with a nod. "With that said, you will be expected to show some proof of death before you get paid. I'm sure you understand that people can be…uh, a little untrustworthy at times."

  "Hey, I worked with mercs in the Zoo before." He raised his arms as he stood from his seat. "I understand that you guys need to see results before you pay for any monster killed. So, shall we get started?"

  "Whenever you're ready."

  "I need to get into my suit. It's still in my truck."

  "I had some people pull it out and have it ready for you in the garage downstairs," Banks said. "Apparently, you were too tired to lock your truck after leaving it."

  He scowled. "Maybe. Or maybe I merely assumed it would be safe in the parking lot outside a building used by the FBI."

  "And I'm sure I'll grow sick with anticipation to find out which is true. In the meantime, you should get into it, while I bring the SUV big and powerful enough to carry you and your suit around. Believe me, it's not easy to find fuckers like that."

  "I'm sure that's the last time you'll complain about it." He rolled his shoulders to ease the stiffness of the long drive.

  "I wouldn't be," she retorted.

  Taylor headed into the basement where men in FBI-marked windbreakers used a forklift to carry his suit into the garage.

  "Thanks for the assist, boys," he said as he began to take the pieces off and attach them. "I'll take it from here."

  The preparation was a ritual he had performed eighty-three times before and he doubted he would ever forget how to do it. Putting your suit on was more than merely necessary. Getting into your armor was getting ready for battle, and no one could ever help you with that. It was something you needed to do for yourself, much like the decision to head into the Zoo in the first place.