Read Online Tracker: A Rylee Adamson Novel by Shannon Mayer - Free Book Online Page B

there. He’d better be. I wasn’t walking all the way into Roswell to find his fanged ass. We stepped through the doorway.
    My torch flickered as a gust of wind ripped through cave, blowing it out. A single figure waited at the mouth of the cave. A woman I recognized from the tunnels below Venice. She was one of Berget’s slaves, a human who had taken blood from a vampire but hadn’t been turned. Might not ever be, according to what I understood.
    “Hello, Rylee.” Her voice carried well in the cave. I dropped the torch at my feet so I could pull my two blades free.
    “Hey, bitch. On a suicide mission?” I stepped toward her and she smartly stepped back.
    “No, I am here to give a simple message. The Empress hopes the death of your Harpy was enough to convince you to help her now. She would hate to take the life of any more of your ‘wards.’”
    I couldn’t help the laughter that poured out of me. So similar to Faris’s tactics it was unbelievable, yet with Faris it had been a ruse. With Berget, she’d been serious about killing Eve, though Berget couldn’t know Eve had survived. It took me a good ten seconds to pull myself back together. “Oh my, you see that’s how I know it isn’t my little sister in charge of things, but her two psychotic parents. My sister would know better than to try and kill a member of my pack to gain my loyalty.”
    She gave a startled twist to her head. “We did not try and kill her. We did kill her.”
    I grinned at her as I walked the slight incline that would lead us out. “And my friend brought her back to life. Lucky for you, because now your death will be quick.”
    I lunged forward and she stumbled back, surprise flitting across her features before she was snatched out of reach of my blade.
    “What the fuck?” I yelled. Doran came out of nowhere. He spared me a glance as he wrestled the woman into submission.
    “Rylee, don’t you know it isn’t polite to just kill someone when you haven’t wrung all the information you can out of them?” He stared down at the woman and smiled as he ran a finger along her cheek.
    She screamed and tried to pull back from him, her cheek blistering where he’d touched her.
    Shit, he was stronger than I thought, in ways I hadn’t imagined. Doran had been holding back on me.
    Since we’d used the existing ropes to rappel into the tunnel, Doran used the rope Alex and I brought to tie up the woman. He tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of screaming potatoes for the walk to Doran’s classic ’67 Mustang. He dumped her into the trunk, her head hitting something with a thud and she finally shut up.
    Sleek, silver, and chromed to the gills, the Mustang glittered in the weak winter sunlight. Though it was cold as a witch’s third tit, very little snow was on the ground. Whi Ce glls, the ch was a good thing with the girly car. Alex piled into the backseat and lay down, his eyes taking in everything, yet remaining remarkably quiet—but that didn’t last long.
    He let out a long trumpeting fart as if to deliberately contradict my thoughts. He even had the audacity to throw me a big wink. As if he knew what I was thinking. I rolled the window down and said nothing.
    Doran glanced at me, his green eyes curious. “Why did you come back so quickly?”
    “I left the black-skinned demon book in Dox’s safe.”
    “And where the hell is the big ox? I’d planned on heading to his place for a drink tonight.”
    “Dead. Him and a bunch of his friends.” I closed my eyes, swallowed hard, the words like chunks of glass in my throat. Doran’s hand slid over mine.
    “I’m sorry. I know he was your friend.”
    “And he wasn’t yours?” I jerked my hand away.
    Doran’s lips tightened. “No. I drank his liquor, and we lived in the same territory, but we were not ‘friends.’ Daywalkers do not have friends any more than shamans do.” His eyes wouldn’t meet mine, he stared straight ahead, the teasing Doran I knew gone as his voice