THE MEN OF ANDERAS:.

Talon, the a.s.sa.s.sin.

By C.J. Johnson.

Dedication.

Three people in my life never doubted these books would be published: Ed, my husband of 45 years; my sister, Lisa Owen Knestrict; and my very dear friend, Wendy Ferguson, aka Wendy Douglas. They offered a non-stop fountain of encouragement by listening, brainstorming, proofreading, proofreading, and proofreading. I won't say I couldn't have done it alone; but it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun nor feel so good without you. I am truly blessed.

And to my granddaughter, Amanda Johnson Wolfe, who helped her Nana with the more "colorful" language for Shadow.

Prologue.

The Phantom Riders were systematically slicing his horse apart and he was trapped beneath what was left of the carca.s.s. He couldn't maneuver enough to look over the gelding's shoulders to see where they were. If they came close enough for him to get off a shot he'd be dead before he raised his gun. He was f.u.c.ked.

Struggling against the dead weight pinning him to the rocky ground, he raised his head looking for a target. Shots plowed into the sand and gravel around him. Pain and darkness exploded in his head.

"We did it, Talon. Can you sit up?" Dak asked.

"I think I'm okay, thanks to you. I have a b.i.t.c.h of a headache. Must have pa.s.sed out since its dark now. Man, I've never seen such a totally dark night. Not a star in sight."

"Talon. Let me have a look at your head."

"Come on, Dak. You can't find your own head in this darkness. It can wait until morning. Did any of the Riders escape? I think the one that got away the last time we met brought his friends. They're looking for Kierin. How is she, by the way?"

"Let me help you up, Talon. I've got to get you back to Kierin's fortress. She's an excellent healer. I'm sure there's something she can do to help."

"I'm fine, Dak." He pulled his arm free.

"You're not fine. A laser blast grazed your head. You were unconscious and...,"

"Just say it."

"d.a.m.n it, Talon. It's not dark. It's the middle of the day."

His knees buckled and he sat down hard. "Get the f.u.c.k away from me! Why the h.e.l.l didn't you mind your own business, Dak?"

"The Riders would have killed you."

"They did kill me! I'm just too f.u.c.kin' stupid to quit breathing! Get out of here! Leave me the h.e.l.l alone!"

"I'm not leaving you out here. Come back to Kierin's. You know how talented she is with her crystals. There's bound to be one that can heal the burn."

"What if there's not a way to fix it, Dak? What am I supposed to do then? It's a little difficult being a bounty hunter when you can't see to wipe your own a.s.s. I have no desire to sit out my remaining days on a corner in some backwater town begging for coins and food."

"Talon..., "I once offered to kill you to set you free. I now ask you for the same. Kill me, Dak. Set me free."

Talon jerked awake, shaking and cursing the dream. Would he ever sleep through a night without reliving that nightmare? Two years! How long before he completely lost his mind and slit his own throat?

Chapter One.

"Krebs is trying to bluff his way through this hand. He's gonna raise." The disgustingly dirty man at the bar announced.

"Not a chance. Yur wrong this time. He took four cards and that means he's got nothin' but s.h.i.t in his hand."

"Are you willing to put money on it?"

"I got a gold coin that sez you ain't nothin' but a drunk hustler."

"Drunk-yes. Hustler-no. I never claim to be something I'm not nor do I attempt to hide my talents. Regardless of your beliefs, the time for action has pa.s.sed. Krebs just pushed his pitiful pile of coins into the pot. Your soph.o.m.oric attempt to humiliate me has saved your coin."

Shadow watched the card game behind the gla.s.s part.i.tion progress with predictable results. Two players were lousy gamblers and losing heavily. One was on his way to being drunk off his a.s.s and losing. That left a professional gambler and a bottom dealing card shark. Their game wasn't inspired by any stretch of the imagination. The true game was happening on this side of the gla.s.s.

The crowd gathered around the dirty, smelly b.u.m strained to hear every word he uttered. Seems he could predict what each of the card players would do before they did it. The body language of the two bad players and the drunk was easy to follow. She'd watched the pro for close to two hours now and couldn't see the slightest tell. He was that good. For those same two hours, the b.u.m never missed a call. More coins and drinks changed hands out here than in the gla.s.s room. Yep, that man was good-too good. No sound escaped the gla.s.s room so he couldn't hear the game. He d.a.m.n sure couldn't see what was happening because he was stone-cold blind.

He was also the reason she was in this miserable dive in the most disreputable section of Cypriana. She'd been hired to find him. Too bad she didn't know what she was going to do with him now that she had him.

"Ain' he amazin'?" Whispered one of the girls working the tables.

Shadow gave her a quick glance before turning back to her quarry. "I guess." She shrugged. "There's got to be a trick to it. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d's blind."

"He don' need no tricks. I heard he's got some kinda magic rocks in his head an' he can see a person's aura. Don' rightly know what that aura is but if he sez he can see it, that's good enough for me. I'm Molly."

"Magic rocks? Auras? Sounds like you've been hittin' the liquor barrel too many times tonight." Shadow scoffed at Molly's claim.

"It's true. I got no reason to lie. He ain' never wrong. You can test him. Jus' walk up to him and he'll tell you what yur thinkin'. It's a real shame, though. He used to be a bounty hunter till he got blind. Now all he does is drink up the coins he wins."

Shadow was saved from having to comment when a customer called Molly. The woman confirmed what Dak and Kierin told her about Talon. He could see the heat image of a living, warm-blooded organism. Their concern for their friend is what prompted them to hire her to fix the problem. She'd followed him for two weeks now and managed to stay out of sight.

His routine was the same every night. Start at one end and hit every sleazy bar on this side of the street and when he reached the other end he'd repeat the trek down the opposite side of the street before staggering to the shack he called home. He'd sleep all day and at sundown, the cycle would repeat. He didn't bathe or shave or change clothes. The only food she saw him consume was whatever the bars served for free.

She didn't have much of a plan to follow but she figured it was about time for Talon to see her. Now that the game was winding down, she wanted to see his reaction to one of her special talents.

Pushing her way through the crowd, Shadow tossed a coin to the bartender. "Whatever you have that's cold." She nodded in Talon's direction before ignoring him. When her drink arrived, she took a deep draught of the yeasty brew.

"d.a.m.n! That's good for what ails you." She felt Talon's gaze but refused to look in his direction. Turning around, she leaned against the bar, sipped her ale, and scanned the room.

"Haven't seen you in here before. New in town?" Talon asked the stranger beside him. He guessed her height to be slightly above average and lean built, athletic. Her voice had that smoky, whisky-rough quality that made him think of long hours of slow foreplay. Not that he practiced much foreplay anymore. The women he slept with now didn't care as long as he finished quickly so they could get back to work. He hadn't visited one of the working girls in a couple of weeks and this woman's voice had him ready for action.

"Let me buy you a drink?" He asked.

"No thanks." She briefly glanced in his direction.

"Don' be like that, babe." He leaned closer. "Jus' a drink so we can get to know each other. I want to f.u.c.k your brains out." He visually traced the outline of her slender body. He might be blind but he remembered enough to imagine the good spots. "You're different." That was an understatement. He was too drunk to make sense of what he was seeing when he looked at her. Her color never changed.

"All things being equal-I'd rather f.u.c.k a Zikanthan slime slug than spend five minutes in the same room with you." She announced.

Talon threw his head back and laughed until tears ran down his face. The sound was harsh from lack of use and sounded more like two rusty buckets f.u.c.king. Wiping the moisture away, he forced a half grin in her direction. Her quick wit was a welcome break from his morose routine. "If a slime slug doesn't have a nine-inch d.i.c.k, I'm still a better lay."

"Rumors claim they run closer to fifteen inches." She finished off her ale and slid the gla.s.s to the back of the bar. Without another glance, she left the bar.

How the h.e.l.l does she control her body heat? No one has that much control. My insulting pick-up line didn't faze her. Grabbing the bottle of cheap alcohol that kept his pain manageable, Talon headed for the door. He didn't know who this woman was but she represented a challenge and that was something missing from his existence for longer than he cared to remember.

For the next four hours Talon searched for the illusive female. It only took a quick glance into every diner, tavern, club, bar, and dive in this two-mile strip of Cypriana to know she wasn't there. The woman simply vanished.

Sunrise signaled closing time for anyone selling alcohol or s.e.x and Talon knew his search would have to wait until tonight. He adamantly refused to name the spark of something burning in his chest as anything more than curiosity-or l.u.s.t. To allow it to be anything else invited pain and abject, heartbreaking disappointment. Any willing woman could satisfy l.u.s.t. h.e.l.l, he could take care of it himself and save the coins as well as the inevitable questions of how does the magic rock work. Being made to feel like a cheap, carnival, sideshow freak killed whatever momentary s.e.xual relief he derived from the encounter.

Turning into the nearest alley, he made his way through the maze of tents that comprised the 'buildings' in this end of town. He knew where he was by the feel of the walls and the noise blasting into the night. He was lucky enough about a year ago to find a deserted one-room shack built of rusted tin and tree limbs. It leaked when it rained; had no heat in the winter; and the long, hot summers turned it into an oven. It offered all the amenities he needed-a bed and a small measure of privacy.

He was only fifty yards from home when the headache slammed into the back of his head. f.u.c.k! Not again! It's only been a couple of months, maybe a little longer, since the last one! What the h.e.l.l is happening? Sucking a breath through gritted teeth, Talon grabbed his head with one hand and reached for the bottle in his pocket with the other. He tossed the cap before guzzling half the liquid. There had been too many headaches and too many bottles for the alcohol burn to be more than a momentary discomfort.

s.h.i.t! Stupid f.u.c.k! You walked yourself sober looking for some nameless b.i.t.c.h! Calling himself names wouldn't get him to a flat surface any sooner. He needed to lie down in the dark while he could still function. It would take a huge dose of luck to get him home before the alcohol in the bottle disappeared. If he still believed in any deity he'd pray that he had remembered to replace his alcohol cache after the last headache. If he didn't...it was going to be a very long and pain-filled day.

It didn't take any degree of stealth for Shadow to follow Talon undetected. The skills that made him one of the best trackers in this end of the galaxy were the first casualties of his constant drinking. She knew the basic details of his injury but nothing about the man. Dak didn't want to influence her reactions to Talon and she understood his reasoning. In the two years since Draagon's Phantom Riders attacked him, Talon's spiraling self-destruction practically destroyed the man he used to be. She needed to see him in his environment. Kierin told her to watch for signs of pain-especially headaches-and sent several medicinal packets, each labeled for specific events. If the headaches were serious, she had something that Kierin hoped would help. Dak just said help his friend.

At the end of a particularly smelly alley, Talon grabbed his head. He was obviously in pain. Looked like Kierin's concerns were justified. Before she could offer a.s.sistance he took a huge drink and straightened. She could only imagine the monumental force of single-minded determination that propelled him down the alley. Maybe the man he used to be still fought somewhere inside the drunken hustler. When he stumbled through the door of his shack she knew he'd probably drink himself senseless and sleep through the day. She watched him until he flopped down on his cot and covered his head with a dark cloth. Pulling the door closed, she crept back down the alley. She needed rest as well. Her gut warned her that his time was running out and she never ignored her gut. Too many times in the past that warning made the difference in her being dead or living to fight another day.

It was time to put her plans into action. Talon, the a.s.sa.s.sin-the Bounty Hunter-was about to reenter the world of the living.

Chapter Two.

Talon woke with the mother of all headaches. It wasn't the kind that brought him to his knees, though. This was the self-inflicted pain from too much booze consumed in an attempt to rid himself of a headache. He grimaced at the irony. At least this one would fade once he ate something-along with a little hair of the dog to wash it down. Since he slept in his clothes, he was ready to find his blue lady.

A street vendor on the edge of the bar district offered a limited selection of roasted meats wrapped in tough, unleavened bread. If you didn't think too much about exactly what kind of meat it was and where it came from, it was adequate and it filled an empty hole. Regular customers could even purchase small, pint-sized bottles of cheap ale. As painkillers went, it wasn't much but it would take the edge off of his hangover.

As badly as he wanted to find this woman, he couldn't risk a repeat of last night. He'd follow his usual routine and watch for her signature blue glow. His first stop of the night was simply a tent with a half dozen tables and an old door resting on two empty barrels for a bar. The ale was weak and the booze watered but it was cheap and he could make a few coins foretelling secrets.

"Startin' a bit early, ain'tcha?"

Talon smiled and shrugged at the serving girl, Dolly? Molly? He didn't care enough to keep the names straight and without a face to put with a name it was useless trying to remember.

"The usual?" She asked.

Again, he didn't answer when he heard the liquid splashing against the gla.s.s. "Sounds too quiet in here. Did someone die?" He tossed a coin in the girl's direction.

She put the coin back in his hand. "It's on the house. The place is closing fer good as soon as the last of the ale sells. Can't run a bar if ya can't get nothin' to sell. We got about enough ale for maybe four more hours and this bottle is the last of the stronger stuff."

"I know there's a big demand around here, but it's hard to believe the brewers can't keep up with the drinkers."

"Got nothin' to do with the brewers. Seems there's a new owner at the warehouse. He's out to make hisself the richest man on the planet and he's got the muscle behind him to make sure n.o.body complains. I got to look out for Maggie first."

Maggie! That's her name. I should pay more attention to details.

"Anyway, the old man that owns the place ain't been around for weeks so when I run out of everything, I'll take my pay and lock the rest in the lockbox he keeps down at the diner."

Talon watched the colors outlining her body ebb and flow with each explanation. Her normal deep red now spiked with a dark brownish yellow. She was definitely stressed but she was a survivor. She had to be to live and work in this area of town.

"With all the businesses around here you shouldn't have any trouble finding another position. Several of the larger bars are always hiring."

"It ain't the serving drinks that cause them gals to quit. Most of the really big places force the girls to serve in the rooms out back, if you know what I mean. If they don't get beat to death they catch some kinda crotch rot and die. No sir! This gal don't put out unless it's on my terms. I got a steady customer what thinks I'd like living on his farm. It jus' might be time to tell him yes. Listen at me goin' on and on 'bout things you got no interest in hearin'."

Talon grinned and it felt stiff, like those muscles hadn't been used in a long time. "You're gonna be just fine, Maggie. Keep the coin," he pushed the silver piece across the bar in her direction. "Call it a wedding gift."

"Yur a good man, Talon, I don't care what n.o.body else sez. Now get on outta here so I can get back to selling this place out."

Talon headed to the next stop on his nightly trek. One small bar closing wouldn't make any difference to the thousands of patrons in the area. By his last count there were more than a hundred businesses offering the same goods and services. This new owner could be a problem. You push enough people hard enough they tend to push back. It wasn't his problem. He needed to get drunk and he still had to find his woman. Your woman? Don't get stupid. You gave up any right to a woman twenty years ago. Find her. f.u.c.k her till she flashes every color in the rainbow. Forget her.

Two hours and fifteen bars later, he walked into one of the few wooden buildings in all of Cypriana. His blue woman sat at a table with her back in what he knew was a corner. Ignoring her for the moment, he leaned against the bar and ordered a bottle and two gla.s.ses. In the early days of his blindness he broke a lot of gla.s.sware until he learned to watch the hands that put the gla.s.ses in front of him. He could see where they were and now spent practically nothing on breakage.

With the bottle in one hand and gla.s.ses in the other, Talon made his way through the crowded room. Since furniture didn't give off a heat signal, he deliberately chose a path between the gaming tables. Players filled every chair at every table. It was just another lesson learned the hard way. Without asking permission, he sat and poured two drinks, pushing one across the table.

"A blind bartender. Neat trick." She pushed the gla.s.s back across the table. "I buy my own drinks."

"Anyone ever call you a b.i.t.c.h?" Talon pushed the drink back at her.

"Usually the poorly educated call me a f.u.c.kin' b.i.t.c.h." Again the gla.s.s returned.

"And the smart ones?" Gla.s.s returned to her.

"Know enough to leave me the h.e.l.l alone or risk losing their precious c.o.c.ks or b.a.l.l.s or both." Gla.s.s returned.