Hired Killer (Cryptid Assassin Book 1) Read online

  Well, until the point where he made some kind of gesture the suit then magnified to absurdity. That was when he was thoroughly reminded of the fact that he walked around in a suit that could kill him and others if he wasn't careful with it.

  Taylor rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath before he attached the weapons Bobby had packed—an automatic shotgun along with two pistols that would work as sidearms and a machete-sized knife. The latter weapon wasn’t necessarily the best thing to fight Zoo monsters with but it was better than having to use one of his guns as a club when the bullets ran out.

  For not the first time, he wished he’d been in Vegas when they’d received the call, though. His assault rifle would have been his first choice, along with the mech suit, not the hybrid. If what he faced today was anything like the bear-mutant, he’d have his work cut out for him to simply stay alive. Hopefully, he’d learned a thing or two in that battle that would give him an edge this time around.

  It took less than ten minutes to get the armor prepared. When Taylor pulled the helmet on and attached it to the suit, the HUD came online to display most of what was happening around him. He would talk to Bobby about finding a way to connect it to his phone via Bluetooth. Suits like these did have a satellite connection that allowed them to open comm lines when needed, but it wasn't quite like a phone.

  Maybe someone had already come up with something that would enable them to connect a suit of armor to their phone and even let them control it that way.

  Then again, that had too many ways to backfire. Maybe something else would be better.

  He turned and frowned when Banks walked over to him in a heavy suit of her own. She checked the weapons it had been equipped with as she moved.

  "And what the actual, literal fuck do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his eyebrow raised. She’d see it clearly enough as his visor remained up. "Are you even cleared to use that?"

  The woman shifted like she was uncomfortable in it and the entire suit moved with her. "I had to be to take control of this task force. And I'll head in there with you. You need backup, and that's me."

  "Um…no, I don't." He folded his arms obstinately. "There's a ton of ground to cover, and I'll do it faster if I don't have to teach you how to walk in that."

  "I know how to work it," she said. "And I'll go in there with you. End of discussion."

  "Why?"

  She shrugged. "I don't trust you?"

  Taylor sighed and shook his head. The day hadn't even started and he already had a headache. It didn't bode well for how the rest of the mission would go, but he clearly wouldn’t achieve anything by arguing with her about it.

  "Fine." He ran a final weapons and systems check before he turned to face her, his demeanor disapproving. "But if you fall and can't get up, don't think I won't mock you mercilessly for it."

  "I thought that went without saying," she said. "I'm ready to go when you are."

  "I'm— Let's go." He’d been about to say “good” but that was an outright lie. He would never be good about her tagging along like a clumsy armor-clad Mary Poppins to babysit him.

  Chapter Thirty

  "You know," Taylor said after a fairly short but not entirely comfortable silence. "A more interested man than myself might think you were falling for me."

  "What?" she asked and sounded genuinely shocked.

  "Think about it. You haven't let me out of your sight and you charge into danger while you claim it's because you don't trust me," he said and grinned at her horrified expression that settled on her face. He wondered when she would close her helmet. "A less confident guy might misinterpret those signals as you trying to say that you really, really care about me."

  "I really, really care about you not fucking this mission up," she retorted sharply and shook her head as if to avoid coming down to his level of banter. "When the media joins this particular circus, the kind of variables they add to the situation make basically any mission more complicated."

  "Well yeah, people who come in to try to get themselves a Zoo beast to brag about do tend to complicate things as well," he admitted. “With that said, though, we're not coming in here to deal with them.”

  "The hell we're not."

  "Well, I'm not, anyway. That seems like a symptom that should probably be looked at, but I'm the guy you send in for the cure. I'm there to cut the cancer out, not deal with the fucking nausea."

  "That is an apt comparison, I guess. No one likes the scalpel that cuts into them, but it's still necessary, right?"

  "Correct." He grinned. "That should be my nickname, by the way. The Scalpel."

  "You already have a code name with the bureau and that's the Cryptid Assassin," she replied tartly. "And if there were ever a nickname for you, it would be something along the lines of…the Spiked Club or something. Maybe that wouldn’t be anyone's first choice, but it does its job in a pinch."

  "Blunt instrument does seem to be what I'm the best at," he conceded. "Well, when it comes to violence, anyway. I like working in the shop. Bobby and I were the ones who built this hybrid suit, actually. Well, he did most of the work but I did most of the testing. It's good fun."

  "Sure it is," she said. "Right up until you charge head-first into the wall and get a concussion while you're liable for all the damages caused both to the suit and the building."

  "That didn't happen to you did it?"

  "I don't want to talk about it," she grumbled. "But yes."

  "Damn.” He fought a grin. "Okay, I can understand that they wanted you to be certified with the suits, but couldn't they do it somewhere outside where there was less shit for you to break?"

  "It was a bureau training facility that was designated for training in the suits. So the cost wasn't too exorbitant, thank goodness, and they moved the next session into the woods. I broke a few trees too, but for some reason, no one cares about those."

  "I beg to differ. There is a whole wad of Lorax-smoochers who care about the trees."

  "Not like that."

  "So, can I ask you something?" They spoke in low tones as they continued to push through the woods. "Nothing personal or anything like that."

  "Is there anything I can say to stop you from asking?" she countered.

  "Probably not."

  "Then fire away."

  "Well, I take it that supervisor Fallon likes to stay on top of the whole task force—managing the budget and calling you every time there's a hair out of place. Like he holds running the task force over you because it's about as much power he'll be entrusted with for the rest of his career."

  "That sounds about right," Banks said, her tone a little impatient.

  "So, when he talked about me getting paid for two missions in the space of a week, did he merely not know that I fucked it up with the mission in the swamp or did you not tell him about it?"

  "Did you?" she asked.

  "Did I what?"

  "Fuck the mission up? Will there be more dead girls out in the swamps in the next couple of months?"

  "Fuck no," he said forcefully. "Okay, there might be some by accident or something, but whatever it was that had killed those you had on file won't kill any more. But by fucked up, I meant that no body was presented for the bounty."

  "I had some people look into the situation," she said cautiously. "In particular, the fire I'll go ahead and guess you started that destroyed a small cabin and a shed out in the boonies."

  "I can neither confirm nor deny these allegations." He knew better than to talk to a cop about that kind of stuff. Or worse, a fed.

  "Well, sure, I get that you'll plead the fifth. But the people who looked into the fire said there was a body inside. This was dead before it burned, apparently, and had its skull pancaked. And after a quick chat with Desk about it—"

  "Goddammit, Desk, I thought we had an understanding," Taylor protested.

  "It wasn't so much a conversation as her taking a peek into my servers," Desk said, immediately defensive. "Without my permission, I shoul
d add." Oh, so she knew how he felt now, did she? It wasn’t pleasant to have someone where they didn’t have permission to be.

  "Whatever," the agent said. "With all the evidence I gathered, I now have a body and the confirmation from the freelancer that the deaths would stop. I saw no reason to not approve your payment."

  "Wait—" He stopped and stared at her. "I mean…what? Why would you do that for me?"

  "I didn't do it for you, dumbass. You did the job and you were paid for it. There’s nothing more to it than that."

  Taylor shook his head and continued to walk. "Don't you people in law enforcement usually like it when things are run by the book? All that due process crap?"

  "You're not working a drug case, McFadden," she said acerbically. "You hunt monsters and are paid to do it. If that monster happens to be human, don't think I've changed my mind about it. Sure, some of our guys like to bring them in to be dealt with in the way the law demands, but to my mind, you dug for evidence, found the monster, and finished the job. Nothing more and nothing less."

  He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. While he doubted he would get the full payment for the job, he’d be a damn fool to complain about it. Until this moment, he had made his peace with the fact that he probably wouldn’t be paid at all and really, all the satisfaction he needed was the assurance that the sick fuck wouldn’t walk the face of the Earth anymore.

  Any money he made on top of that was gravy to him. He would, of course, charge them through the ass for this job, though. There were all kinds of expenses. The way he was going, he wouldn't need to dip into his business funds to pay Bobby's salary for a while.

  Taylor came to a sudden halt and raised his hand to tell Banks to stop as well. It took her a few seconds to see it but she complied and moved her hand slowly toward the weapon on her back when she saw how tense he was.

  "What's the matter?" she asked with a furtive glance around them.

  "You know how you get the feeling you know a place before you've actually been there before?"

  "Like Deja vu?"

  "No, because you've seen it before on film," he said. "Or, more accurately, on a shaky phone camera."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I mean that I think this is where that hunting team was attacked."

  "How can you tell?" She sounded openly skeptical. "It's not like they gave us a good view of the area with that shaky cam."

  "Well, no, that’s true, but you can look around and see more evidence that they were here." He pointed toward the trees around them. The bark had been damaged by what looked like a barrage from a handful of shotguns and a number of hunting rifles. If all the shots had gone in the same direction, he would have assumed that they merely had a scare and everyone had fired at a squirrel or something.

  The firing pattern, though, was both random and widespread and had damaged at least a dozen of the trees around them. The evidence suggested they had looked around and fired wildly at a creature or creatures that moved quickly through the treetops.

  And either these hunters were terrible shots, or the creatures were faster than could be imagined since he couldn't see any sign that they had been hit by the rounds fired.

  "Shit," Banks said. "How many of the monsters do you think there are?"

  "What makes you think there are more than one of them?"

  "Well, you can see they fired all around here," she pointed out. "Logically, you'd think they would all aim at the same target if they faced only one creature, but it's all spread out."

  Taylor scowled. It was a good point and he had looked forward to being able to explain it to her. It would have been a prime opportunity to prove how much more competent he was and take her down a peg or two at the same time. Still, now was not the time for an ego trip, so he simply turned to follow the trail of destruction through the forest. Now that they were in what he considered hostile territory, he sealed his helmet and nodded to her to do the same. She complied without argument.

  It soon became apparent that the gunfire had begun to slow and became more and more sparse, probably as the shooters ran low on ammunition, he assumed. Either that or they were picked off one by one. He considered both and decided a combination of the two was as likely as either one.

  These guys had thought the Zoo monsters would be like any other creature they could simply waltz in and shoot with impunity. They clearly hadn’t considered the reality that they were the prey as soon as they stepped into the area.

  There were tracks to follow on the ground too, mostly boot prints, but as they pressed on, he noticed where claws and pads had dug into the soft mud. Their sudden appearance told him that the creatures had sensed an easy kill and dropped from the trees to attack the hunters.

  "Get down!" Banks yelled.

  He spun to see what she was talking about and froze momentarily at the sight of what appeared to be one of the hunters, complete with the felt cap and bright orange blazer. The man stood not ten feet from him with a double-barreled shotgun aimed at him. He cursed himself for being so engrossed in tracking that he’d lost awareness of their surroundings. It was a rookie mistake and one he would never have made in the Zoo. He had allowed his irritation at having an unwelcome partner and the irascible need to upstage her to distract him—and if that had been the mutant they were hunting, she’d have possibly saved his ass to boot.

  Still, this was a human—harmless in comparison—and although the man held a shotgun, he knew with certainty that at this distance, the shot would make little impression. “Don’t shoot,” he said once he’d activated the external speaker. “We’re here to help—fuck!" The man ignored him and simply opened fire. Taylor felt none of the shots and, as expected, they didn’t manage to pierce the outer layer of his armor.

  "Don't get any closer!" the hunter shouted and fell back against the tree.

  "Goddammit, man, we're here to help you!" the agent shouted and moved closer as he fumbled in his pocket. He tried to reload his weapon but his hands shook too badly for him to be able to push the shells into the appropriate chambers.

  Taylor approached and closed his hands gently around the man's arm. He tried not to injure him as he pulled him away from the tree.

  "Don't get any closer." The hunter looked terrified as he tried to break away from his grasp.

  "We're trying to help you, man," he said. "Calm the fuck down."

  "No, you need to get out of here now." He tried frantically to move away while he struggled to reload his shotgun.

  "Why?" Banks asked. "What are you still doing here?"

  "Bait!" he said in a hoarse voice. "I'm bait."

  It took Taylor a few seconds to realize what he had said.

  "Oh, fuck." He gasped, took a step back, and yanked the shotgun from its holster on his back. "Oh…just fuck."

  Her gaze followed his into the trees. His motion sensors told him that movement had begun in the branches all around them.

  "Yeah," the agent said and readied her weapons. "Oh fuck about covers it."

  Chapter Thirty-One

  There really wasn’t time to think about what would happen next, even if he wanted to. Taylor knew they were outnumbered and out-positioned, and it looked like the monsters had the jump on them—literally.

  He indicated for Banks to pull back with him and motioned for the hunter to do the same. The unfortunate man had finally been able to shove shells into the shotgun, but honestly, it was doubtful that he would be able to hit anything with the way his hands shook.

  Which meant it was only him and a woman who, by her own admission, had charged head-first into a wall while learning how to use the suit she currently wore. Not only that, she had probably not been in one since she was certified for it until this very day. He had never seen her fight and had no idea how to coordinate with her while in combat.

  Well, that left him. At least she wasn't shaking like she had taken a little too much cocaine and couldn't handle it like Hunter McHunterson.

&
nbsp; Grimly, he checked his weapons. He had the shotgun, which he had three magazines for, and the pistols that he had two mags each for. And there was the machete too. He couldn't forget about that, given that there really was a very good chance he might need it.

  That was all he had to fight what looked like two dozen of the creatures that looked hungry and very much like they wouldn’t take much shit from the people on the ground below them. The only faint sliver of a silver lining in this fucked-up very dark cloud was that some of them chose to climb down from the trees rather than jump as he had expected. That many in a combined speed-jump would lower their odds dramatically.

  They all looked similar enough that he could assume that they were from the same brood, at least, and were definitely, definitely Zoo monsters.

  Or, at least, the kind of creatures that resulted from the goop being set loose into a forest like this.

  He could agree that the location made it seem like they were somehow related to the bear creature he had encountered before, and there were a few similarities. It could be that they shared the same origins, although there was no way to tell what that might be. They had a similar rat-shaped head with the elongated jaw and the high-positioned eyeballs, and as they hissed and growled during their descent, he noticed that the bottom half of the jaws split down the middle too.

  The rest of each mutant resembled an odd kind of armadillo, with a soft, mammalian body and an endoskeleton covered, for the most part, by what looked like a very insect-like exoskeleton. This was comprised of dark carapaces that were touched here and there with greyish-brown fur like the hybridization between the two creatures hadn't quite been successful but it was still alive to enjoy the results.

  They were large but considerably smaller than the massive creature he’d previously encountered. From this, he was inclined to believe that they were the offspring of that same beast but had mutated into a different version based on available DNA. He’d read somewhere that armadillos could possibly spread to the DC area, so maybe some had made it there. Or someone might have left something made from the skin. Who knew what the goop was capable of extracting DNA from? Either way, the one good thing in all this was that they seemed to be young—which hopefully meant that they would have less strength than the parent and that the carapace was possibly not fully developed.