Chapter One

    He stalked his prey with the cunning of a tiger, stopping with each step. His prey isn’t the kind you might think, for his prey is another man. This man, however, is a wanted criminal. He is wanted for the rape and murder of a fourteen year old girl, one Jenna Carlson. She was popular in her school, got good grades, had a boyfriend, got along with her family. She will not grow up and have a family of her own because of some slimeball in and out of prison for most of his life.

    That slimeball is on Jason Blanton aka Street Smoke. Blanton has been convicted on murder 18 times and rape 28 times. Each time he hardly served any time. Most of his crimes were against young girls like Jenna. Blanton is about six foot tall, 180 pounds, dark hair, dark eyes, husky build and works out a lot. He goes form job to job. He currently works as a mechanic.

    The hunter’s name is Jake Patrick Ramsay. Ramsay is an ex-Special Forces operative, ex-Covert Operations Operative. Ramsay is also the leader of a five man sniper team. Ramsay would normally use a long range rifle or silenced pistol, usually a 9mm, but this time he is using a commando knuckle knife.

    Jake Ramsay doesn’t always hunt people for a living. He owns his own security company. He got into hunting criminals when a gang of scumbags, like Blanton, raped and murdered his wife and kidnapped his twin daughters. Jake’s wife died in his arms.

    As Ramsey got closer to his target, he took out his knife and stabbed Blanton in the kidneys, twisted the knife and lifted it up towards the man’s neck. The knife was rather sharps, as are all his knives.

    He let Blanton’s body fall to the sidewalk, turned around and walked away as if nothing happened. Ramsay always wears latex gloves. When he gets home, he burns them after each hit. Most of his hits take place at night or early in the morning. This one took place at 3 a.m.

    Ramsay walked down the block, found his beat up 1970 Toyota Landcruiser, got in and drove home. He changed clothes, got rid of the latex gloves, then called the man who hires him to do the hits and says, “The job is done. I’m ready for the next one.”

    The man on the other end says, “One of my people will deliver the next file. I will deposit you money in your account” Then, they both hang up.

    Ramsey went downtown to his office. As he walked into his office, his secretary Janice Nolan asks, “Good morning, Mr. Ramsay. How are you this morning?

    “Just fine, Janice.” he answers. “Do I have any messages.”

    “Yes, you have seven. Six are from companies that want to buy a dozen systems each. The seventh is from your fiance. She wants to know if you can have lunch with her.”

    Ramsay’s fiance is Sasha Stanton. She is a homicide detective with the police. She is 5'8" with an athletic build, honey blonde hair, blue eyes, 126 pounds, thin face with high cheek bones. She doesn’t know about Ramsay’s other work. She only knows she loves him.

    Ramsay goes to his desk, picks up his phone and dials the number for the twelfth precinct’s detective division and gets Sasha’s partner. “Hi, Jason. Is Sasha there?” he asks.

    “Yeah, Jake. Just a second.” answered Jason Deven. As Jake waited, he checked his schedule and saw he was free for lunch.

    Just then Sasha came on the phone and said, “Hi, Jake. I see you got my messages. So, are you free for lunch?”

    “Yes, I am. I miss you. So, how’s it going?” he asked.

    “Just peachy. I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Am I meeting you, or are you picking me up, and where are we going?” she probed.

    “I’ll pick you up at 11:30. After I hang up here, I will be out of the office. I have some things to do.”

    “Those things wouldn’t be Christmas shopping would they?” she asked.

    “Oh, they might be part of the things I have to do.” He didn’t tell her that he had finished his shopping yesterday.

    “Ok. I’ll see you at 11:30. I love you, Jake.”

    “I love you too, Sasha. See you at 11:30. Bye,” Ramsay said, as he hung up. “Janice, I’m going out to do some errands, then I will be having lunch with Sasha at the Golden Dragon.”

    “Ok, Mr. Ramsay. If it’s not important, I’ll take messages. If it’s important, I’ll beep you,” Janice told him.

    “See you when I get back,” he replied.

    Down on the ground floor, Ramsay strolled to his 1997 Chevy Tahoe, got in, put on his seatbelt and started the vehicle. The Tahoe is equipped with a turbo charged, fuel injected 454. It has a hidden compartment in the rear area for his weapons and other equipment.

    He was being watched. He could feel it. He looked in the rear view and spotted a purple 1965 Chevy Impala lowrider. They weren’t following that closely, but it was close enough he could tell there were at least six or seven young males, all hispanic, probably 18 to 25 years old sitting in it. He figured it was some of the gang, whose leader he killed a few days ago, but little did he know they were really part of the gang that killed his wife and two girls.

    The lowrider stayed will him all the way to his home.