15

Ted located Bruno Maranzano a few hours later. In Theodore Cyneric’s world, no one was untraceable. He hadn’t lived as a Hunter for centuries without being able to track down his enemies. Bruno was a young boy, trailing the little breadcrumbs that led to him was not difficult.

The door of a small seedy motel opened and young Bruno Maranzano, dark-haired and fiercely handsome, walked out of the lobby with the lapels of his shirt drawn up to hide the bottom half of his face. Clutched in his left hand was a black briefcase.

He reached the curb and raised a hand to hail a taxi.

A yellow taxi – the cheaper of the two types of taxis operating in the city – stopped in front of him.

“The airport,” he said hurriedly.

Ted adjusted the rearview mirror so that he was looking right at Bruno, making sure the man could see him too. “You are not going to the airport, Bruno.”

Dark eyes widening, Bruno reached for the door and jerked the handle, sweat broke out on his forehead.

Ted watched him struggle