in him had come to a screeching halt—his blood, his heart, even his thoughts as those words echoed in his head.
It was Sam who asked in a whisper, "What's wrong? Who is this Nicholas Argeneau?"
"He's a rogue who's been evading us for nearly fifty years," Mortimer growled.
"What?" Grant paled and shrank back into the cushions again as if afraid Lucian would reach out and throttle him. He started to babble, "I didn't know Nicholas was rogue. I moved up this way fifty years ago to escape the city and hadn't heard. I would have called Argeneau Enterprises at once if I'd known Nicholas was rogue."
"Go home," Lucian ordered grimly. When the man breathed out his relief and rushed eagerly for the stairs, he added, "And no more biting or I'll come deal with you personally."
A handful of breathless assurances of future good behavior drifted back to them as the man hurried up the steps. They ended on the clack of the screen door slamming upstairs.
"So," Mortimer said quietly into the silence that had fallen over the room. "What are we going to do about Nicholas?"
Decker's gaze slid back to his uncle to find Lucian staring straight at him. His face was its usual expressionless mask as he answered, "We hunt him."
Chapter One
"Where the hell is he going?" Decker muttered under his breath as he steered the SUV down the rutted dirt road to follow the white van ahead.
"Hell if I know," Justin Bricker answered.
Decker glanced briefly to the younger immortal, his temporary partner for this hunt, but didn't bother explaining that he'd been talking to himself. He returned his concentration to the road, squinting in an effort to see where he was going. While their kind could see in the dark better than mortals, even he was straining in the almost complete absence of light out here. It was a starless night, and Decker had turned off the headlights several miles back to prevent being spotted by Nicholas. The enforcer SUVs had several modifications; an absence of driving lights that came on every time the vehicle was started was just one of them.
"I didn't expect it to be this easy to track him down," Justin said suddenly.
Decker grunted, surprised by it himself. Nicholas Argeneau had been rogue for a good fifty years, during which time no one had even caught sight of the man. For it to have taken a mere day of showing his picture around to pick up his trail seemed too easy. Way too easy. It made Decker suspicious and wary. Why hadn't Nicholas erased the memories of the mortals he'd encountered? He must have done that in the past to have remained off the radar, and yet suddenly he wasn't doing so. Instead he appeared to have left a trail as clear as radioactive green cookie crumbs.
Justin cursed beside him and grabbed for the dashboard as the dirt lane came to an end and they followed the van off-road, bouncing over tall grass and bushes.
"Maybe he's tired of running," Justin suggested suddenly through gritted teeth, no doubt to keep from biting off his tongue as they jolted over the uneven trail. "Maybe he wants to be caught."
Decker didn't respond. He didn't for a minute think Nicholas was giving up, and he didn't know what was going on, but Justin Bricker's constant need to talk was beginning to drive him crazy. He had no idea how Mortimer, Justin's usual partner, had taken it all these years.
"He's stopping."
"I can see that," Decker muttered between his teeth, steering the SUV to the side of the road. He parked as far into the woods as he dared without risking getting stuck. Hoping it was far enough that their prey wouldn't notice them, he then turned off the engine and ordered, "Watch him."
Leaving the keys in the ignition to save time should Nicholas notice them and try to get away in the van, Decker crawled over the seat and all the way to the back of the SUV where the blood and weapons were. He moved to the cooler first, retrieving a couple of bags of blood and tossing one over the seats into Justin's lap. "Drink up. You'll need your strength."
"I gather you don't think he's going to give up when he sees us, then?" Justin asked dryly and then slapped the bag to his mouth.
Decker snorted at the very suggestion. He waited for his own canine teeth to drop down, and slapped a bag of blood to the fangs