Catching Death Read online

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2013 Virginia Nelson

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-265-4

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Cheryl Harper

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  For Sara who taught me some of the best mythology is the stuff you create.

  CATCHING DEATH

  Hunters and Reapers, 1

  Virginia Nelson

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  Dragging the drunk man up by the back of his collar, Bianca Carter fought a wave of nausea at the bitter stench coming off his clothes.

  “Holy shit.Catwoman?” His slurred words didn’t matter so she ignored him and propped him against the brick wall of the nearest building. “Do you wanna do dirty things with me, Catwoman?”

  “You wear leather pants and every sick fuck you meet thinks you’re going to give him a piece. No one considers it might just be a uniform.” Reaching in her back pocket, she pulled out her cell phone and opened the camera. She tried to ignore the stink of him, something like vomit mixed with the chemical sting of whatever drugs he’d been taking, and piss over unwashed body.

  She so had to wash her hands. Disgust at having to touch his filth made bile rise in her throat. She fought it back. This is why I come prepared with antibacterial wipes when I work.

  “So, if it’s a uniform, are you a hooker?” He struggled to focus his glazed eyes on her, almost succeeding in toppling over again, and she paused with a sigh to lean him back up again.

  “Not a hooker. Sit still so Catwoman can take your picture, Jeremy.”

  “Hey, bitch, how the fuck do you know my name?” Sneering, he fumbled at his pants. “You want a picture of me? Wanna get my big cock in the shot?”

  “Not really, and trust me, you don’t want to pull that little thing out right now. Aside from embarrassing yourself because it’s limp from all the shit in your system, that’s not how you want to be found.” She snapped the picture and his face matched just about all the others in her phone. Stunned.Confused.

  “Found? What are you talking about?” The guy’s cockiness faded, replaced by fear. Apparently she was freaking him out. Good.

  “Your body.”

  “My body? What the fuck? Listen here, bitch—”

  She cut him off. “Would you stop calling me that? The picture is uploading. Stupid signal isn’t as strong as it should be in this part of town. Tower is probably overloaded.”

  “The wha—” His face went slack-jawed and he sagged against the wall.

  “There it went.” Glancing at the phone, she verified his soul uploaded and stuffed it back in her pocket. “By the way, Jeremy, I’m Death. Nice to meet you.”

  Turning on her heel, she fought the feeling of someone watching that had been dogging her steps lately. Nerves. It has to be nerves. If you know you did something wrong, you get paranoid. Human nature.

  Even if she hadn’t been human for more than a decade. Exhaustion warred with the nerves for dominance and a huge yawn stretched her jaw until it popped a little.

  Glancing both directions, she turned onto the street from the alley. She could get out of a sticky situation if someone saw her near the body but better not to be sloppy. She’d preformed this job long enough now, she understood the risks. In a world full of tech, cameras and people with a fetish for peeking into the private moments of others, the risks were higher than they were for those doing her job a century ago.

  As a reaper, she collected souls, uploaded them to the database and moved on. Most of the souls died of stupid things, like Jeremy. Drugs and alcohol made for a dangerous cocktail and humans never thought they would be the ones.

  Kept her busy, though.

  Kept her mind off the niggling feeling of being hunted and the knowledge that someone would catch her eventually, and she’d have to pay for the one choice she would make a hundred times over, if need be.

  She’d just shaken the feeling, just gotten comfortable in her own skin again, when a hand clamped down on her shoulder.

  “Found you.”

  Spinning, she tried a sweep kick to knock him off his feet but her attacker was faster.

  Stronger.

  Him.

  They sent him.

  Before she could try anything else, her face was pressed to a wall, his body pinning her like a butterfly on a needle.

  “Why do you keep running?”

  Breathing out, she closed her eyes and concentrated on creating stillness inside herself. She needed to think and the feel of his body against hers made it hard.

  He is so hard.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  Ignore the musky scent of him.

  His teeth closed over her earlobe and her eyes opened as she gasped. Liquid desire pooled between her legs. No one controlled her passion like him. He seemed to possess the singular ability to make her body go molten with a touch.

  “I’m not running. I’m working. Let me go.” Calm. Cool. Collected.

  Her voice reflected none of the conflict going on in her mind.

  When he pressed his cock against her ass, she bit her lip to hold back a moan. “You’re running. I’ve caught you now, Bianca.”

  Turning her, he kept her wrists pinned behind her body, stuck between her back and the wall, and braceleted by one of his hands.

  His toothpaste-scented breath hit her in the face and she met his glittering eyes. Eyes so pale, nearly white in the darkness—she recognized the Hunter.

  And, by fuck, he isn’t catching me this easily.

  His mouth closed over hers and, for a moment, she gave into the desire riding her. Opening her lips, she tangled her tongue with his, feasting on the promise of the savage seduction he offered.

  When his hands loosened, she moved hers to his shoulders. Bracing herself, she hoisted herself up, breaking his kiss and pressing tightly against him so that her sex rubbed against his, barred only by their clothes.

  She didn’t fake the low groan that slipped past her lips before she reclaimed his lips and his hand caught her hair. Tugging it, he pulled back and ran his teeth against her throat, igniting a delicious line of shivers that raced from the roots of her hair to her aching pussy.

  Then she launched herself away from him.

  Hitting the wall with a thud, she used the momentum to bring her leg around in a roundhouse kick to his perfect jaw.

  Without giving him time to recover, she bolted. Running for all she was worth, feet pounding the pavement, she tried to ignore her screaming scalp and the hair she lost in her escape.

  Catch me if you can.

  Glancing behind her, she couldn’t see him but she knew he’d be back.

  Pushing into a faster sprint, she raced into the night, fighting off the laughter that wanted to bubble out of her and steal the breath she needed to run.

  Chapter Two

  Bianca.

  The name haunted Drake Green lately. He wasn’t sure when she stopped being a job and became an obsession but he recognized that she had. She wouldn’t have been able to escape him in the alley if he hadn’t been so damned tempted by the taste of her, the feel of her, alive and wriggling in his arms.

  Rubbing his jaw, he smiled. Now he owed her one.

>   She begged, with her eyes and the way she moved and responded to him, for him to take her. To dominate her. To ride her body until she acknowledged he was the one who claimed all that sweet white flesh.

  Bianca Carter hit his radar years ago. In a meeting, sitting across from one of the most horrifying creatures he’d ever met, she somehow captured his attention when logic pressed him to focus only on the conversation at hand.

  Hair so red, so bright red, it shined in the boardroom lights. Black leather stretched across creamy pale flesh, cut low at her breasts to give him just a peek at freckled mounds ripe for his hands. And her eyes…

  The eyes got him. He met women before that he instantly wanted to fuck. He’d never met one with eyes like hers. Green like the forests, shining emeralds set in a bowl of cream, her eyes were the loneliest ones he’d ever seen.

  Sure, her face was set in the right expression. Her tone, when she spoke, came across calm and modulated. But her eyes didn’t lie. She was alone and there was sadness and a story there.

  He researched her. Made this job easy, really. Fascinated with her, he found out her name and how she got into her position.

  Parents dead when she little more than a kid herself, she took on raising her little sister, Alicia. Alicia—spoiled, pampered and ungrateful bitch that she was—was slated to die over a decade ago when her big sister stepped in front of a bullet to save her.

  A bullet because Alicia, dumbass that she was, went places she didn’t belong, took risks she shouldn’t take, and expected her big sister to fix it.

  In this case, it cost Bianca her life. Alicia didn’t even stick around to ensure someone called 911. Drake wasn’t even sure Bianca knew that little factoid. Alicia ran off, leaving her big sister to die a martyr.

  Martyrdom, in this case, caught the attention of Death. Hired the moment she stopped breathing, Bianca became a reaper, training under one of the best reapers Death had on staff. A quick learner, she moved up the ranks and now used the security access she gained over the years to keep working even though Death put a bounty on her pretty red head.

  A bounty Drake intended to collect.

  Sipping his coffee, Drake leaned further back in his seat. He knew she’d be back soon and watched her house, waiting. Thinking she lost him when, in reality, there was no way in hell he needed to chase her. He knew from watching exactly how many hours Bianca put in on a treadmill and this was her city. The chances of him winning a footrace were slim to none.

  She could run off her steam and he would be waiting for her.

  Bianca acted out of loyalty, fierce loyalty, which told Drake she really didn’t deserve what waited for her. Death was pissed. If someone was supposed to die, they died, simple as that.

  Her refusal to collect Alicia’s soul—and her impeding every attempt his other reapers made to collect it—left Death with no choice but to throw Bianca in limbo as an example to all the others. Be good or I’ll fucking punish you.

  Bianca needed to be punished, all right.

  But Death lacked creativity.

  There were so many other ways to get a rebellious woman like Bianca to submit to his will.

  Limbo wasn’t on Drake’s to-do list for Bianca.

  Chapter Three

  The feeling of being watched didn’t abate when she unlocked the door to the rental house. If anything, it increased, raising hairs on her arms.

  If Drake hunted her, Death was more than a little pissed off. Drake usually only got called in when paranormal creatures fucked up royally, and when he caught them, it was a one way trip right to limbo.

  Limbo didn’t scare her. Not saving Alicia did.

  Alicia might be headstrong—a complete fucking blockhead—but she was the only family Bianca had left. That counted for something. Even if Alicia seemed bound and determined to ruin every attempt her sister made to save her.

  Locking up, engaging the security system, and toeing off her boots in autopilot, Bianca headed upstairs.

  Peeling off the leather pants—protection from both armed reapers and people not ready to let loose the earthly coils—she padded barefoot further into the room, leaving them in the hall. Unzipping her shirt, she let it slide to the floor.

  Bra and panties still on, she got on the bike.

  Exercise took up the many hours between jobs. When she was alive, she had very little interest in working out. People died—like her parents—and it didn’t matter what they ate or how they cared for themselves. So why bother?

  In death, well, there wasn’t much else to do. Reapers didn’t sleep. If she tried to, she didn’t dream so it just felt like a waste of her time anyway. No matter how tired—lately, she’d been very tired—rest eluded her. Filling the hours with sex only satisfied for a while, especially since finding a partner who gave her what she needed was next to impossible. Exercise? She didn’t need a partner and she got an endorphin rush without wasting batteries.

  She found a comfortable pace on the bike and tried to shake the feeling someone watched her. She was running out of time. She knew that.

  Didn’t mean she couldn’t keep trying. Even if…lately…

  She’d begun to question herself. Not a comfortable kind of knowledge, the wondering at her own motivations. What if…?

  Until she glanced up at the mirror and saw his reflection.

  Impossible.

  The alarms hadn’t blared. Not a single sound but the pumping of her legs and the whir of the bike.

  With no time to think, she leapt from the bike and headed for the other exit.

  Also blocked by him.

  After a backflip, she headed for a window where yet again she came up against his chest.

  “Checkmate.”

  His hands closed on her arms and she blew out a breath. “Not hardly.”

  Tucking and rolling, she tried to break his hold. But he rolled with her, turning the move into a tussle on the floor of her gym.

  When she wound up flat on her back, staring at him through the veil of her own hair, she panted both from the workout and the feel of his hips holding hers down.

  Not sure if she wanted to flip him over and fuck his brains out or kick his ass, she paused to suck in more air and consider.

  “You’ve heard you’re a wanted woman now, right?” His slow smile didn’t make it to his arresting pale eyes. Those eyes haunted her every thought, contrasting with hair so dark it seemed they were like stars dropped into a velvet sky.

  Smiling slowly, she decided to use her femininity against him. “I’m usually a wanted woman. Most men don’t break in just to let me know that.”

  Glancing pointedly down her body to the obvious outline of his oh-so-tempting cock, she licked her lips and blew her hair back out of her face.

  He responded by tsking before he caught both wrists in one hand. His free hand reached into his back pocket. “Bianca, not everything is about sex.”

  Pulling out cuffs, he yanked her wrists above her head.

  “This is,” he added. “But not everything is.”

  “Death won’t be happy if you don’t turn me in.”

  Tugging her up by the cuffs, he ignored her.

  Dragging her by his hold on the cuffs, he headed right out of the gym. “Where are we going?” If he told her, there was a better chance she could figure out how to get away from him and make sure no one got to Alicia. If he worked with a partner, there was a chance that while he occupied her time, someone reaped her sister.

  Unacceptable.

  “My house. I’m pretty sure Death put out an all-call on your pretty little ass. If I found you, someone else will eventually.”

  Digging in her heels, she glared at his back. “Wait, you’re not turning me in?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, what are you doing?” Taking her to his house made no sense. The bounty had to be for her to be turned in for judgment—not for being kept in a bounty hunter’s house. Death didn’t like loose strings and knew her well enough to understa
nd she wouldn’t rest—literally—until she found a way out.

  Tugging on the cuffs again, Drake pulled her against his chest. Tilting her head back, she met his eyes. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her.

  “Maybe I don’t want you in limbo yet. He said he wanted you. Maybe I want you first.”

  “But…” That didn’t make sense. Drake was a bounty hunter. Not a kidnapper.

  “Do you want to go to limbo?” The question was bit out, as if he didn’t want to ask.

  “Fuck no.” She answered fast, before she really thought through the response.

  “Do you want me? Don’t lie.”

  Held close to the solid length of his body, she tried to find a lie. Tried to find words that might make him set her free.

  Nothing came to mind.

  Her pulse raced. What would having this man mean? Would he be tender, sweet—a cautious lover who saw to her needs?

  Would he spread her legs and shove his dick inside her while tugging her hair and biting her shoulder?

  Damp heat between her legs throbbed to life at the thought. Her nipples puckered, threatening to peek through the black lace confining them.

  With a growl he smiled. “I can smell you. You are so damn wet for me.”

  Her mouth went dry.

  “You still didn’t answer me, Bianca. Do you want me?”

  Slowly, she nodded.

  He nodded back. “Then let’s go play.”

  Chapter Four

  Knowing she sat inches away made him ache for her. He could smell her arousal and the thought of it rubbing against the leather seat only ratcheted his passion higher.

  Soon.

  First he needed to get her safe. Death wasn’t stealing this prize away from him.

  Some men might be daunted by stealing something from Death. As a gambler, Drake figured this was a game against the house and the house always won.