Praise for
KAIT BALLENGER
“Non-stop action, pulse-pounding suspense, and red-hot
romance… Kait Ballenger’s Execution Underground
series delivers in spades!”
—Jaime Rush, New York Times bestselling author
“Action and romance in one mesmerizing story.
A phenomenal start to the Execution Underground
series. Shadow Hunter will leave you breathless and demanding more.” —Cecy Robson, author of Sealed with a Curse
“Taut with action, suspense, and romance that sizzles,
Shadow Hunter is an evocative prelude to what’s certain to be an exciting new series! Fans of JR Ward are going to love the sexy warriors of Kait Ballenger’s Execution Underground.” —Kate SeRine, author of Red and The Better to See You
Also available from Kait Ballenger
AFTER DARK
“Shadow Hunter”
Twilight Hunter
Kait Ballenger
To my mom, Jessica Schulz,
for believing in me when no one else would
and for always telling me I could achieve my dreams.
I’ll love you always, mama.
Contents
Skinwalker [skin-waw-ker] (n.)—1. A being capable of assuming the identity of an animal
2. God of Norse mythology 3. Shape-shifter
CHAPTER ONE
JACE MCCANNON PALMED the Mateba and clicked back the gun’s hammer. The cold grip panels of the modified revolver sat comfortably in his hand. Six silver bullets for a rogue werewolf. Limited shots. But he was feeling lucky.
He gripped the gun with both hands and lowered it to his side, slipping in and out of the shadows. The rank scent of garbage, car exhaust and piss wafted into his nose as he reached the alleyway. Ah, the sweet aroma of Rochester’s slums. He ran his tongue over his teeth, jonesing for a cigarette to drown out the smell and steady the adrenaline buzz creeping through his veins. Damn, he wanted to find this son of a bitch.
Resting his back against a brick building, he paused and glanced up. The white moon stared down at the Earth, calling him. Heat prickled beneath his skin.
He wrenched his gaze from the tempting sky and forced himself into the moment. Inhaling deeply, he rushed around the corner and scanned the area, pointing his gun into the darkness. No one. No werewolves, no hobos. Damn, not even the prostitutes were roaming.
Not that he blamed them. Regular killings weren’t anything to call home about—happened all the time. But this was different. Innocent women being found with their organs slung around their corpses, Jack-the-Ripper style. The worst part? Jace had no idea where to find the sick fuck responsible, and the thought of the young women’s pain sent his blood boiling.
He explored the alley, gun still at the ready and eyes searching for any sign of movement. A rustling noise hissed from around the next corner. Jace held his gun tight and sneaked down the narrow passage toward it. The sound grew louder, and he quickened his pace. When he reached the bend he stopped, listening closely. He threw himself around the corner, gun ready and his finger on the trigger.
A plastic bag caught on a Dumpster swished in the light wind. He cursed under his breath. Maybe he wasn’t so lucky tonight. He pushed his fingers through his hair. The cell phone jammed in the pocket of his jeans vibrated. He pulled out the annoying piece of shit and read the screen: David.
He jabbed his thumb into one of the buttons, hoping it was the right one, and shoved the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”
“Meeting in an hour.” David’s deep voice rumbled over the line.
Aw, hell. Jace shook his head. “Don’t toy with me. I’ve got business.”
“I’m not shittin’ you, J. One hour, and you better show or Damon’s gonna rip my head off. I told him I’d get you here.”
Jace frowned. He hated being forced to carry a damn cell phone. He didn’t enjoy people contacting him whenever they pleased. “It’s nearly the full moon, David. This is my prime time. You know that.”
“You don’t have to preach to me. Damon’s the one riding your ass like a Grand Canyon donkey, not me.” David paused for a moment. “He’s gonna want a report tonight.”
“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. I’ll have something.”
“Sure you hear me, and I like to dress up in tutus while my girl spanks me and calls me Big Daddy.”
Jace smirked. “Hey, if that’s what gets you off...”
“Shut it,” David said. “You’ve gotta report tonight or Damon will go postal. So what are you gonna tell him?”
Jace glanced into the empty darkness surrounding him. “Same thing I told him last time—jack shit. I’m not opening my damn mouth until I’ve got their packmaster bound and chained, or, preferably, I’m carrying his head on a silver platter courtesy of my bare hands.”
David let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought you said you had something.”
“I do.” Jace lowered his voice. It didn’t matter that he was alone; some things he couldn’t say aloud if he wanted to keep his sanity. “I’ve got a scent, and it’s familiar, so I smell it everywhere. Trailing this monster’s stink is about as much fun as shooting myself in the foot.”