Page 23 of Hunted

But Thanatos would never allow that. He knew it. Gunn would have to go after her himself.

The intercom on his desk buzzed—the command center. He hit the button and said, “Go.”

“Boomer here. Did you assign the Hounds to bring back the bounty hunter chick?”

Oh, fuck.

“No, I did not.”

“Well, they’re doing it. And rumor is, they’re hunting to kill.”

Gunn felt cold all over. Mikey was an escape artist, but the Hounds were relentless. And he wasn’t sure any of them had a conscience. “What the hell for?”

“Besides the fact that she’s a major threat to this place? Sanchez is pissed. Rex gave Dobe the antidote, but it’s not working. He thinks the bitch screwed us over. And you know Cisco and Matéo do whatever he says.”

Dammit. Mikey wouldn’t do that. Would she? Hell, he didn’t even know anymore. But Boomer was right about Sanchez. The guy was crazy, and had no conscience, but he was loyal, and Dobe had saved his life last year when the nearby town was attacked by cartel soldiers.

If he caught up with Mikey, she was dead.

The security footage was still running. He saw Mikey breaking into the secret drawer, pocketing the cash, looking through the bottom of it.

Finding the photo of herself. Slamming it back into the drawer.

Fuck.

It was after that, that she’d left the vial on the desk. Because the photo had softened her up? Or because it had pissed her off? He looked again at the note. Would she have left that if she’d been screwing them over?

He said to Boomer, “Send some guys to try to head off the Hounds. Then get my truck going and meet me outside. We’ll take the road. We’ve got to find her.”

“Ten-four,” Boomer said.

On the screen, Michelangela was finding the entrance to the secret tunnel. She disappeared, and the tattoo on Gunn’s arm sent a stab of pain through him.

He had to find her before the Hounds did.

Chapter 11

Michelangela perched in a tree by the side of the road, down the mountain from Gunn’s base. Her breath was coming fast, and her bullet wound was bleeding again. She’d thought Gunn had gotten it stopped, but she could see the stain spreading on her shirt sleeve.

Why the freakin’ hell wouldn’t her body work right? Everything had gone to hell since Gunn had messed her up, and she hated it.

At least she wasn’t losing enough blood to pass out. Just enough that her pursuers could follow the scent, unfortunately.

She pulled a field dressing out of one of the pockets in her combat vest and slapped it over the wound, outside her shirt. Then she ripped the bottom off the shirt as quietly as possible and wrapped it around her arm in a makeshift pressure bandage, holding one end of the cloth in her teeth while she knotted it with her good hand.

That should slow it down some.

Fucking wolves. They were too good—better than she’d given them credit for. If they weren’t all psychotic criminals, she wouldn’t mind working with them.

In the distance she heard the sound of an engine. Did she dare hitch a ride? She’d gone around the tiny town nestled at the base of the mountain so she was on the far side of it, and the oncoming vehicle was heading the direction she wanted to go.

It would be the fastest way out of the area, and she couldn’t be tracked by scent. But it was a risk. The person driving probably lived in town, and she didn’t know what their relationship was with the wolves.

Anyone could be an enemy.

Dammit, the blood was soaking through the bandage. She might have to risk it—pretend to be a hunter who’d gotten injured.

She slithered down the tree trunk and moved silently to the edge of the road, planning to stay concealed in the underbrush until the last second. The truck—a dusty pickup—came around the curve and into sight. She strained to see the driver, waiting for the truck to pass under the trees so the glare from the morning sun would clear from the windshield.