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Next, he walked into his closet and got dressed in black cargo pants, a turtleneck, boots, and a leather jacket. He then went to his other room where some of his paintings sat on easels. He called it his art studio. Behind a special wall was a hidden room for his weapons. He tilted a book, which opened a secret handprint panel. After verifying his identity, another door opened and he walked into a generous selection of guns, knives, grenades, poisons, bombs, C4, and other items designed to kill. He selected a Barrett M82 sniper rifle and ammunition. He also grabbed a desert eagle handgun and his knife. Both back up weapons, but he was sure he could put a bullet in the man’s head with his sniper rifle. Once ready, he confirmed with his mom that the down payment had gone through. She texted back that it had. All that was left was taking out the target.

He left his house, took what he called his inconspicuous car, which was a black Toyota Camry, and headed for the Lords of Chaos clubhouse where the details said his target lived. He had the blueprint of the building and knew which apartment his target lived in. The problem was getting past the busy clubhouse, which was on the first level. There were a few bikers standing outside, smoking and chatting. The clubhouse windows were blocked glass, which made for good protection. But also posed a problem because you couldn’t really see out, but Colton assumed that was what the cameras were for. It would seem that the Lords of Chaos Motorcycle Club didn’t take chances. He could respect that.

This hit wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d first thought and that made him smile. The last thing he wanted was for a hunt to be easy. He parked a distance away and scoped the clubhouse out with his binoculars. He watched for about twenty minutes, who came and went. His plan was to enter the building across the street, take a perch, and wait for his target. Didn’t matter how long it was going to take, he had patience and he never missed his mark. He wanted to kill his target while he was inside his apartment, because he’d draw less attention that way than sniping him on the street. He was just about to gather his sniper rifle to do that when he saw his target leaving the clubhouse. The man was dressed in plain clothes, no cut, and he had a backpack with him, a sports duffle bag, and a medium-sized suitcase.

“Just where are you going, little cub?” Colton murmured as he peered through his binoculars at his target. He watched the man load his luggage into the trunk of a Camaro, then he climbed in behind the wheel. Colton put his binoculars away and started his engine. “Let the hunt begin,” he said with a smile as he pulled out to follow.

3

ZE

Ze hitthe road as soon as the Haysworths came back with the money. They gave him ten grand in cash and the down payment to Jimmy, also in cash. They wanted it handled as fast as possible and didn’t care if it was discreet. Which worked for Ze, he’d rather shoot from afar anyway. Trying to get in close to a US senator and be able to get away after taking the shot was a fool’s dream. He checked his rearview mirror, making sure no one was following him, no club brothers looking to get in on the action. When he was on a hunt, he was a lone wolf. After about three hours of driving, he pulled into a motel on the side of the road in Indiana.

He was exhausted, having only had an hour of sleep before he had gotten the notification that it was go time. He placed a cap low on his head to hide his face as much as possible, then entered the lobby. Ze paid for his room in cash, got the key, and took just his backpack and suitcases inside. He’d packed light. Enough clothes for a few days in his backpack, and his weapons in his suitcase. He looked around the room, it wasn’t anything special and the place had a stale, funky smell to it that reminded him to leave his socks on and check the bedding for bugs and stains. He wasn’t a prude, but he also wasn’t a slob either. He sat his suitcase on the floor, tossed his backpack on the bed, then walked over to the window to close the drapes. He jumped back when something furry scurried along the wall out of the corner of his eye. At the same time, the glass from the window shattered and he ducked instinctively.

“Fuck!” he cursed, because he knew what it meant. A bullet had flown through the window, a bullet that would have nailed him had that rat not startled him. His heart was pounding so fast, his breathing matched the beats as his pulse raced. He’d been in shootouts before, but this was different. This wasn’t a bunch of bikers having at each other in a showdown where more bullets missed than not. No, this was a professional hunter who’d made him his prey. Someone who managed to find him even when he was on the road. One wrong move could be the end of him… would be the end of him.

He crawled through the glass, cutting himself a little on the sharp shards, but he didn’t care, he needed to get to a place that gave him cover and a vantage point. He pulled his Glock from behind his back and flicked the safety off. Damn, he’d been followed, but he didn’t know by who. Whoever it was, they were fucking good, because he never suspected anything was out of the ordinary. He shot the overhead light, covering the room in darkness to give himself some cover. He lifted his head up just a little to peek through a slit in the curtain, not moving it because he didn’t want to give his position away. He just wanted to see if he could get a glimpse of the person hunting him.

There, in the trees and bushes, he saw a glint of reflection off the sight of what he knew to be a sniper rifle. He moved when the person switched positions, trying to get a better angle. Ze got low and started crawling toward his suitcase on the floor. He opened it and began putting together his sniper rifle, because two could play that game. Once his gun was complete, which took him less than a minute to do, he avoided the beam of light that was shining into the room from the moon in the sky and streetlights. He kept to the shadows and raised up a little, taking aim from behind the dresser.

He closed one eye and peered through his scope with the night vision lens. He searched for his target, but the hunter had moved from the position they’d been in before. By the height of the scope’s reflection, Ze figured the assassin was a man, at least six feet if he’d been looking through his scope at the time. When he saw a flash of light and an arm, he took his shot, several actually. He waited to see if there was any more movement.

Time stood still as he scanned the trees and bushes for any kind of movement or shape. He kept his breathing measured in order to keep his aim focused and he listened for any sound, especially footsteps. The seconds ticked by like minutes and there was nothing. Ze decided to take a chance to switch positions, but still, nothing. No more shots were attempted. He moved again, more boldly now, toward the window… then another bullet, and this one grazed his bicep.

“Ahhh, fuck,” he hissed from the pain and ducked from the next two bullets that came through.

Whoever this was, they had a lot of patience. He wondered why someone was trying to kill him. Again, he crawled through the shards of glass to his suitcase. He was a sitting duck there and apparently, whoever was out there was willing to wait him out. He grabbed his backpack off the bed right before a bullet struck the mattress where his hand had been. He wanted everything close for when he had to make a break for it. He reached into his suitcase, removed a gasmask, and slipped it on. Then he grabbed one of four smoke grenades. When he’d first packed what he called his “just in case” kit, he really didn’t expect to need any of the extra items other than his sniper rifle. But he was thanking his lucky stars he had it all now as he unleashed the smoke grenade in the room.

Two things would happen that he wanted. The smoke should set off the fire alarms and draw attention to the motel, maybe even get the police and firefighters out there and that was if the alarms were active. In a no-tell motel like this, one couldn’t be too sure. Secondly, it was cover. As the room filled with smoke, the alarms did sound loudly throughout the motel as did the sprinkler system, raining water down upon him. He used the smoke to rise up and peer out the window with his rifle. When he saw the movement of a man running, he took his shot, several of them all in the vicinity. He saw more movement; the man was fast as he scurried away. He shot again, spraying bark off a tree the man had ducked behind. Oh yes, his prey was quite skilled.

In the distance, the sound of sirens began to draw closer, which was the perfect time to get the fuck out of there. Still, Ze watched the trees, waiting for his prey to make a mistake and expose themselves. Fire trucks pulled up along with police cars, one of them obstructing his view as they filled the parking lot. Ze began taking apart his rifle and he put it back into the suitcase. He grabbed the canister of smoke and took that as well. Using the hem of his shirt, he wiped down the door handles for fingerprints. There wasn’t anything he could do about the blood he’d left on the dirty carpet, but the less evidence he left behind, the better. He took advantage of the distraction the police and fire department caused to sneak out of his room and make a mad dash to his car. He tossed the bag and suitcase in the passenger seat and climbed in behind the wheel. He started the engine, then pulled out. This was the reason he always preferred to back into the parking spot, it made the getaway that much quicker.

He was back on the road, and this time, he made sure no one was following him. His arm was bleeding, but it would have to wait. He pulled over an hour later to check out his wounds. The one made by the bullet burned, but it wasn’t deep. He opened his suitcase and ripped up a t-shirt to make a bandage. He’d need to get his first-aid kit out of the trunk, but he’d wait to get to another motel for that. First, he wanted to put more distance between him and that motel and hopefully, the assassin. He took off on the highway again, this time driving until the sun began to rise, making it out of Indiana and into Kentucky. He made sure to make wrong turns to see who followed him back onto the right road every time. So far, it looked like he wasn’t being followed.

This time, he picked a hotel and paid in cash. It wasn’t anything fancy, one of those 3-star numbers with the free breakfast and a decent bed and bathroom. Before going inside, he checked his car to make sure he didn’t see any tracking devices, which he didn’t. That gave him a bit more peace of mind. His room was on the third floor between the elevator and the stairs, which was preferable. He quickly closed the curtains and was glad the window wasn’t in front of the bed. Now that the door was secured with the latch and a chair, he went into the bathroom to tend to his wound. Ze cleaned the blood away and disinfected the wound with his first aid kit he’d taken from his trunk, then bandaged it properly.

He leaned on the sink and looked into the mirror. Even to himself, he appeared as exhausted as he felt with puffy, bloodshot eyes and tousled hair. It all proved that he was simply running on steam. Ze had been ready to crash when he’d pulled into the first motel, but now he was damn near dead on his feet. A few hours ago, he’d almost been killed, yet the adrenaline of that attack had fueled him to last this long. He left the bathroom and walked to the door, checking its security once more before walking to the bed. He did change clothes because the outfit he’d been wearing had blood on it. Sweats and a t-shirt, something practical. Ze grabbed his handgun, turned the safety off, and climbed on the bed with his shoes still on just in case he needed to bounce fast if shit went down. It didn’t take long before sleep claimed him.

The room was blanketed in darkness when Ze opened his eyes. His hand was still wrapped around the grip of his gun, and he wiped at his eyes with his other hand. He had no idea what time it was, but he felt rested. In spite of a killer on his trail, he’d slept like a baby. Ze got out of bed and checked his door to see that it was still secure. He had used a fake name and ID to book the room, his own protocol when he went out on missions. Next, he checked the news on his cell about the motel and there was a report on an incident that had taken place there. The report mentioned that the room he’d been staying in showed signs of an attack. A shattered window, bullet holes found in the bed and walls, and some drops of blood gave authorities some concern. However, no bodies were found at the scene. It was still under investigation.

“Shit,” Ze grumbled. When he’d been shot, that was the last thing he needed. His prints were in the system, but he didn’t think his DNA was. It’d only been a barroom brawl he’d been engaged in when he was younger. Still, nothing else could be proven, and it was his blood, no one else’s. He’d come up with something if they tracked him down somehow. This situation couldn’t let this set him back because he had a senator to kill.

Ze took off his clothes and showered as quickly as possible, then got dressed in jeans and a hoodie. He called his president just to let him know that he was in Kentucky and heading towards Memphis. Ze didn’t tell him about the attack, because he didn’t want their help. The killer was after him, and he wanted this man all to himself. Getting his club involved might endanger them, but it would certainly take away some of his fun. This man was his to hunt.

He got dressed quickly, then took his belongings down to the parking lot. His green eyes scanned the area, looking for anything or anyone suspicious. Shadows moving, flickering lights, people sitting in cars… anyone could be the killer. He didn’t think he’d been followed, but he’d made that mistake the first time. He walked over to his car and put his bag and suitcase inside, then checked his vehicle over again.

“Fuck, I need to get a detector,” Ze said, cursing himself for not having one on him. Granted, looking for devices was a good way to find them, but some were highly advanced and a GPS detector could find those best. This situation wasn’t anything he’d thought he’d have to deal with. Time to make an addition to his “just in case” kit. He was on his hands and knees now, looking under his car. Still, nothing out of the ordinary. Lastly, he checked the trunk and under the hood. Everything looked normal. Satisfied, he climbed in behind the wheel and took off.

4

COLTON

Colton kepthis distance as he drove on the interstate, taking the same route as Zaire. The man had surprised the hell out of him the night before with how fast he was to react. Luck was on the man’s side allowing him to dodge his first shot. He remembered that exact moment, too. His breathing had been steady, his aim–on point. He pulled the trigger just as his target was walking toward the window, probably to close the curtains, which was smart. And whatever had startled him had saved him and had given Colton away.

He’d watched and waited in the darkness from behind the bushes as he peered through the night vision scope of his gun. He had the man pinned right where he wanted him, even after his target had shot out all the lights. What he didn’t expect was for his target to fire back with such accuracy. So much so, he’d taken a hit on his arm and had to patch himself up. One good thing he knew was that he’d also struck his target, so it looked like they were even. Wounded, but still alive. The whole time he’d faced off with his prey, his heart had been pounding like a piston in his chest, damn near threatening to break out of his ribcage. It had been that intense. All of the smells and sounds around him had been amplified as his senses were turned up.

It’d been quite some time since he’d been given a target who presented a challenge. It seemed that Zaire Esai wasn’t your typical outlaw biker. He’d found the sort to be common thugs with delusions of grandeur and some false sense of honor. But this Zaire was highly trained and that intrigued Colton more than he’d like to admit. His blue eyes checked the GPS tracker he’d put on Zaire’s car, perfectly hidden as an oil cap. Unless one had a signal detector, you’d never notice it was there. And so far, it seemed that his target was none the wiser as they made their way toward what looked to be Memphis, Tennessee. He did wonder why his target was heading in that direction and without his cut. What he knew of bikers, their cut was like a part of their soul. Or some such nonsense.