Know Thine Enemy Read Free Page A

it counted.
    All except Izzie. For the first time in nearly a hundred and fifty years, Ryker saw a hunter without a driving force. Without the flash. The motivation. The cause.
    The same could not be said for Izzie Bennett 's traveling companion, a man Ryker had taken to calling 'Butch.' Every night following her sweep of St. Louis's current hotspots, Izzie would retreat to The Wall, watch the interactions of the vamps and demons who wandered in, then leave to meet Butch. The man was not her husband, as Ryker had first assumed. At least if he was, it wasn't a happy marriage. They had rented separate rooms in their East St. Louis motel.
    Ryker hadn 't made an effort to get to know Butch as he had Izzie, particularly since the guy didn't seem to have the first clue about The Wall, which made him no threat to Connor. Still, Ryker had seen enough to determine the man could be trouble should they ever cross paths. The cause missing in Izzie's eyes blazed in his. Whatever happened to Butch, whatever provoked his warpath through the underworld, had been horrible enough to earn the hydrogen bomb.
    Unless Connor made a new request, Ryker intended to leave Butch alone. His interest in Izzie and her mysterious motivation left little attention for anyone else.
    He sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his duster. She was something else, all right.
    For the third night in a row, every free inch in the Washington Avenue loft district crawled with undead predators. This happened every so often—there'd be a rush of tourists or an influx of new college students, and suddenly the residential undead were out and about, searching for a fresh neck and a dark corner. The lofts were particularly popular during the spring and fall—recent grads of southern Missouri who didn't want to get too far outside the blanket of home made their way northward to go to school or search for employment. Bloodsuckers had new conquests at their disposal, and, in a city with such a sizeable crime rate, local authorities overlooked the disappearances of new residents.
    Hell, a metropolis of any particular size was bound to attract night crawlers. Blending in was beyond easy, and, unlike in smaller havens, no one really gave a damn if a tourist disappeared.
    Izzie Bennett, however, was no tourist. She moved with cool grace and fluid ease, like a performer lost in the dance. Her black hair was pulled up in an inelegant ponytail that bounced and flopped with every fancy twist her small body made. Unlike other hunters, she wore a skintight black tank top and black cargo pants, which emphasized her moonlight skin. She looked little more than flesh and bone, though her muscles were well defined, and she knew how to utilize the strength she possessed. She had the make, build, everything a skilled hunter needed—everything except the conviction. She swung and stabbed, but it wasn't personal. She showed no outrage or disgust, nothing to suggest she fought for any reason other than to be the one who walked away. She was something he'd never seen: a hunter—and a skilled one at that—without a cause.
    It was extraordinary.
    Tonight was the night. The night he'd step out of the shadows. The night those gorgeous eyes would land on him. Ryker didn't like jeopardizing his parts any more than the next guy, but sometimes a good mystery was worth the risk.
    In the meantime, he wanted to watch the fight. He wanted to see her in action again, especially if it was the last time. Once he made himself known, his stint as a voyeur end ed. She wouldn't be caught unawares after this. The lady was a professional, no doubt about it.
    " Pretty little thing got lost," one of the vamps snarled to his companions. He was a tall guy with a goatee, dark hair, and shabby wardrobe. He seemed every bit the type to pick the slow and stupid out of a crowd for a quick buzz. "Whaddya say we escort her home, boys?"
    " No thanks, Romeo," Izzie said flatly. "You're not my type."
    Another vamp