Bounty Hunter. Lynette Eason

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       ONE

      A simple twitch of his finger and his sister’s killer would be gone. His two-month quest to find Van Blackman would be over. Riley Martelli took one more long look at the man in his sights then lowered the weapon.

      But he could never kill someone in cold blood. Not even the man who’d murdered his sister and put his six-year-old nephew, Asher, in the hospital with a bullet lodged near his spine.

      Being a bounty hunter could be a dangerous line of work. Sometimes more dangerous than his days of being a beat cop.

      It definitely had its ups and downs. Bringing in fugitives topped his list of things that made life worth living. But the stakes had never been higher. He just had to figure out how to capture Blackman without getting killed.

      In the last year since changing professions, he’d been through some tough times and barely escaped with his life.

      And yet none of that had dampened his determination to bring those fleeing the law to justice.

      Especially this one. This one was personal.

      Which was why he now found himself outside the small town of Drum Creek, Colorado, just as the sun was getting ready to go down. With little daylight left, Riley needed to quickly figure out how to approach the man and safely bring him in.

      Van knelt, but Riley couldn’t see what he was doing. Soon, small puffs of smoke drifted from the patch of ground. Was he building a fire? Did that mean he was planning to stay for a while?

      Riley settled the gun back on his shoulder and got a better look with the scope. Van crouched over the small flame, pushing the contents as though trying to encourage a larger blaze. Riley lowered the weapon.

      Now, in a very secluded area of Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park, Van moved to stand next to a black SUV just a few yards ahead of him. Grand Lake was calm and serene behind him. A sense of peace and satisfaction flooded Riley even as his adrenaline spiked. It might be July in Colorado, but it was cold at night, dropping into the forties. Van wore a black ski cap pulled low over his ears, but his tall height and broad shoulders were harder to disguise. Riley’s heart pounded. Finally, he was going to make his sister’s killer pay. He shifted the rifle on his shoulder for one more look through the scope. He scanned his prey’s body, watched the way he held his hands. His target kept touching his hip, which meant he probably had a gun there.

      The man turned and Riley now had a full-on view of his face—and his heart stuttered.

      It wasn’t Van Blackman.

      Disappointment shot through him. He had the wrong man. Riley lowered the rifle with a frustrated sigh. Then frowned and lifted it to stare through the scope once again. The man’s face was familiar. Where had he seen him before? Television? Yeah, that was it. Could it be—? He focused again.

      Yep. That was the missing FBI agent that had been all over the news lately. Morrow was his last name. Jack? Jeff? No, Jake. Jake Morrow. And there was a hundred thousand dollars being offered as a reward for his safe return.

      It had been reported that he’d been kidnapped by the Dupree crime family and that he might have escaped, but still needed help.

      The Dupree family had long been on the FBI’s Most Wanted list, and from what Riley had been able to piece together, the feds had almost managed to capture them. Only things had gone wrong in a raid on a warehouse in Los Angeles.

      While tracking Reginald Dupree and his uncle Angus Dupree, Morrow had disappeared from the warehouse. From what Riley remembered, a Dupree helicopter was able to get away during the shootout. It was suspected that Morrow was on that chopper, held against his will by Angus. Reginald and two of his associates had subsequently been arrested and were still in custody.

      The weird thing was, Jake had been spotted all over the country, but the last report had him near Billings, Montana. So, of all places for him to show up, why here?

      Riley lowered the rifle yet again and stood. “Special Agent Jake Morrow?”

      The man froze and Riley raised his hands, along with the rifle, over his head and started walking slowly toward him. He stayed on the path that led to the little campsite clearing, bypassing the large rocks and tangled bushes as well as enormous trees. “I’m Riley Martelli. I’m a bounty hunter and I’ve been tracking a guy. I thought you were him. Imagine my surprise when you turned—”

      The man palmed his weapon in a move so fast Riley didn’t have time to blink. Morrow aimed the gun at him. Riley’s street training didn’t allow him to freeze, he just dove behind the nearest tree as the gun cracked.

      The bullet pinged off СКАЧАТЬ