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big ones they landed every now and then.
    It hadn’t quite been a year since they’d returned from Mexico, having gone down there to find their mother’s boss. He’d been killed, and that was when they swapped out their bounty-hunting hats, which were illegal in that country anyway, and started doing some snooping around. They weren’t private investigators but that didn’t mean from time to time a bit of investigation wasn’t warranted. Marc was proud of KFA’s skills and reputation. He and his family had ended up taking out a world-renowned assassin and disrupting the warped game he was playing. The only problem, though, was when the assassin was killed they weren’t able to learn who else might be playing this incredibly brutal and warped game of kidnapping citizens with certain unique skills and turning them into killers.
    If his father had discussed his plan to infiltrate the house of the man they were hunting, Marty Byrd, with Marc, prior to allowing himself to get captured, and then later shot, maybe they would have gathered more intel. Marc wasn’t so proud to believe the case would have gone a lot better if he’d been more informed. His father was one hell of a bounty hunter. But they were all capable of making mistakes and it was Marc’s job to be there for his dad.
    Marc admitted the wear and tear of that case was part of the reason he needed time away from KFA for a while, but not if a serious case came their way. Clearing his head, taking a look at life from an angle other than a bounty hunter’s, would make him better at what he did. Marc loved being a bounty hunter. It was in his blood. He and his brother, Jake, had followed their dad into the line of work without looking back. There was something about hunting another man, or woman, that fulfilled a part of him that otherwise was an empty void inside. Even here, on downtime, Marc knew he wouldn’t be able to go too long without resuming a hunt. Although he wouldn’t have run into London Brooke if he hadn’t come here. She had no idea how much her presence would make this a great, rejuvenating vacation.
    Marc stacked the brochures that were in his room in a pile and placed them next to the phone. He dropped his nonworking cell on his bed and headed out to find his new conquest.
    The elevator was crowded. He could have taken the stairs but decided against it. The last thing he’d admit to anyone, especially London, was that his feet burned like a son of a bitch and the rest of him didn’t feel a lot better. She’d been right about him being underdressed. He would have to admit he’d never known cold the way it was outside in that storm.
    Everyone piled out of the elevator, hurrying in the direction of the disco. Marc followed the crowd and watched them head through the main lobby to another hallway. Doors opened and the thumping sound of music accompanied by laughter and happy partiers filled the lobby until the doors swung shut behind everyone.
    “Mr. King?” A thin guy behind the front desk held up a plate. “I believe this is for you.”
    “Marc.” Calling him Mr. King made Marc think the clerk was asking for Marc’s dad. “And thanks. Where is London?”
    “I’m not sure. Probably headed out. She isn’t working tonight.”
    Marc pulled the cellophane back from the plate and picked up half of one of the sandwiches. He took a bite. It was cold, as if it had been refrigerated. He glanced down at the bread pressed into several layers of meats and cheeses. It didn’t look like she’d just thrown together a sandwich for him. It had been made earlier today and stored in a refrigerator. Marc took another bite. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.
    Marc turned to Todd, which was what the guy behind the counter’s name tag said. He’d turned to help someone else. Several other couples strolled into the lobby, but London wasn’t anywhere in sight. Marc took another bite of his sandwich, holding the chilled plate, and headed down the