Rogue Spotter Collection Read online

  Rogue Spotter Collection

  The Complete Series

  Novels 1-6

  Kimberly A. Rogers

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people or entities, living or dead, business establishments, locals, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Kimberly A. Rogers

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed or electronic reviews, without the prior permission of the author and copyright holder.

  Cover design by Rachel Rossano

  http://rossanodesigns.weebly.com

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Threats by Numbers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Flight by Numbers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Trials by Numbers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hunt by Numbers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Quests by Numbers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Fight by Numbers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Note from the Author

  You May Also Like . . .

  Also by Kimberly A. Rogers

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you as always to my family who support my efforts.

  Additional shout out to Rachel Rossano for creating a brand new fantastic cover for this special collection! Love seeing Lauren and Mathias again!

  Finally, thank you to my Lord and Savior without whom I am nothing.

  Threats by Numbers

  Rogue Spotter

  Book One

  Kimberly A. Rogers

  Dedication

  For Mom

  Chapter One

  Lauren

  “Thank you for calling Halliman’s. This is—”

  A rather shrill voice cut off my greeting before I could even get my name out. I listened carefully to the woman’s frantic complaint. My eyebrows rose as I scribbled out the information. Carefully keeping any hint of disbelief out of my voice and maintaining the calm tone drilled into every secretary at Halliman’s, I tried to confirm what I was hearing. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but did you say a Jersey Devil is in your garden?”

  I winced at the shrieked affirmative and nodded even though the caller had no way of seeing me. “Yes ma’am, I understand how disturbing that might be to find.”

  Especially given the fact that Jersey Devils weren’t usually found outside of their favored haunts along the Eastern Seaboard, much less in Washington State. They weren’t a paranormal species known for cross-country travel. I made another notation on my pad of paper as I waited for the caller to cease her litany of complaints about the damage the Jersey Devil was doing to her vegetable patch.

  When she stopped for breath, I calmly inserted myself back into the conversation. “Ma’am, what neighborhood are you in? Holiday Hills. Yes ma’am, I understand that your neighborhood is not accustomed to the appearance of Jersey Devils.” It wasn’t accustomed to the appearance of much below the sparkling veneer given that it was one of the most expensive neighborhoods in Olympia. I scribbled another note as I asked, “And, are your neighbors paranormals?”

  The answer I received to that could have rivaled a steaming teapot for shrillness. It made me grateful that I wasn’t a paranormal with enhanced hearing. I scribbled another note. “You live in a norm section of the neighborhood. Yes ma’am, I understand. Yes ma’am, I agree.” I stopped writing and moved my left hand to hover over the phone base as I continued, “Yes ma’am, I agree that you need a relocator. Mrs. Jones, I am going to transfer you to our relocation department. They will be able to help you sort out all the details. All right? Please hold while I transfer your call.”

  I switched the caller to hold with a tiny sigh of relief, and then I pressed the button for speaking directly to the secretaries on the fifth floor. “Hi Beth, I have a caller out of Holiday Hills who needs a relocation team for a Jersey Devil.”

  “Jersey Devil?” Beth echoed, the disbelief I hadn’t allowed coloring her voice.

  I nodded out of habit. “That’s what she insists it is. I’ve already transferred her to you.”

  “Jersey Devil in Northwest Washington,” Beth muttered. “As I live and breathe, someone must have abducted the thing if it really is a Jersey.”

  “Mrs. Jones was quite insistent that the matter be handled with ‘dignity and discretion.’ It seems she has a garden party to host, and she doesn’t think a Jersey Devil trotting through her vegetable patch would make a good impression on the norms.”

  “Mrs. Jones?” Beth blew a whistling sigh through her nose. “It’s August, isn’t it?”

  “Yeees,” I answered slowly.

  “That explains it,” she muttered. “Every August something gets into that woman’s precious garden, and we have to deal with it. She’s a siren, and they are such divas.”

  My lips curled into a smile as I decided against reminding Beth that, as an Undine, she was related to Sirens as part of the water sprite b
ranch of paranormals. “If you say so. I’ll let you go now.”

  “Wait! All us secretaries are going to get together after work today to go troll the boardwalk at Percival Landing and dish about the new hottie in security. Are you going to join us?”

  “I . . . I don’t think I can. I have a lot of work to do.” I paused and added softly, “I thought you were married.”

  Had I not been dragged by Beth to meet a soft spoken man at the company picnic two years ago? I wasn’t very close to any of the other workers at Halliman’s, but Beth was always chatty so I thought I would have heard if she had lost her husband somehow.

  “Girl, I’m married, not dead. I can appreciate a good looking man all the same. And, this one is fine! If I had known Weard kept such fine looking men in its employ, I wouldn’t have turned down their offer to go to Chicago.”

  My grip on the phone tightened as I struggled not to react to the reminder of the main reason I wanted nothing to do with gossiping or gazing at the so called hottie in security. Thank God, no one was looking at my little corner and that Beth was an entire floor above me. I forced a light tone as I said, “I’m sorry, Beth. I just don’t think I’ll be able to make it.”

  “If you say so. Maybe next time you’ll finally say yes.”

  She hung up without waiting for my denial. I blew out a breath as I returned the phone to its cradle, and then untangled its cord from where I had managed to wrap it around my hand without realizing it. I wiggled in my chair, wishing it wasn’t so old that it could no longer be adjusted, but I didn’t dare move around too much for fear that one of the other secretaries would notice and offer to start a chair swap. That usually took a good thirty minutes as the five of us manning the phones for Halliman’s proper would shift around the chairs, hoping to avoid the two that had the least amount of padding, until we each found one that let us comfortably sit at our respective desks.

  Beth was one of the most persistent people I had ever known. Even after almost three years of my bowing out of her invitations to hang out after work, she still made the offer without fail every workday or at the very least every Friday. If I hadn’t been equally determined to keep my connections light, I would have called her a friend. But I couldn’t afford friends, especially not when the new security consultant had been flown in from Weard Enterprises. A shudder ran down my spine at the thought of Weard. It was the preeminent security company in both paranormal and norm society, but I had heard enough rumors about them to know they didn’t just provide security. If rumor was to be believed, they were also a front for a mercenary organization with an eye for collecting anyone with unusual, dangerous, or valuable abilities. Unfortunately, I qualified as both unusual and valuable.

  My name is Lauren Hope . . . and I’m what is called a Spotter. I spot the people who are or can be threats because I see numbers floating over their heads that indicate their threat potential. Everyone has a number. The higher the number, the more dangerous the person, and the greater the threat. No other type of paranormal had this ability and that made it a very dangerous gift to have given the fact that there were just as many people who would love to control me as those who would kill me to keep their deadliness secret. Exploitation or destruction weren’t the types of choices I wanted to make, so I’ve spent my entire life hiding what I am and keeping my head down.

  I glanced around and took a little comfort in the fact that I was surrounded by softly glowing 3s. The low murmur of voices answering calls, phones ringing, and clacking keyboards reassured me. I tapped a fingernail against the little jade fox sitting on my desk next to a jade deer and a wood carving of a stylized loon. The fox was clever, agile, and able to slip away from her enemies. Maybe, I shouldn’t have stayed so long at Halliman’s or in Olympia in general. I never usually lasted more than a year in one place before coming here.

  I rearranged the little figurines and then ran a hand over the wood of my desk feeling the nicks hidden from the casual observer’s eyes by dark polish that provided a veneer of stateliness to the older desks on this floor. Halliman’s shared a building with the norms’ State Department of National Resources and Department of Agriculture. However, in keeping with its reputation as not only a highly successful cryptid relocation firm but also the premier PR firm for the paranormal community at large, it was decorated with grand furnishings and a Grecian feel meant to impress even the most powerful paranormals when they passed through our doors. The norms just thought Halliman’s was a regular PR firm run by a wealthy if eccentric family whose roots went back to both the local people and Europe by way of New York. Of course, since Halliman’s mission was to ensure that the norms never learned just how many paranormals still existed in the world beyond the occasional ‘monster attraction’ and select ambassadorial species, it was the perfect cover.

  Personally, I preferred my fourth floor space where the sleek and polished marble with Grecian statues and paintings gave way to soft carpets and wood carvings or murals by local artists from the Nisqually and Chehalis tribes. The warmer colors and tones of the wood and murals made the fourth level feel almost homey or at least welcoming. The same theme ran through the fifth floor that the relocation department called home, and the few conference rooms on the two floors were primarily used for meetings between the local paranormals such as the Sasquatch tribe. They appreciated the local flair and effort to honor the roots of the Pacific Northwest community.

  While the three lower levels were less impressive since they served to deter any norms who happened to wander into Halliman’s, the Grecian flair came to a fore in the upper levels with more marble and gold leaf along with statues of Athena, Hermes, Demeter, and Pan throughout. Not to mention paintings and murals of them as well as a large statue of Heracles in the lobby for the sixth floor, where the real security and emergency response teams were stationed. Combined with premier Turkish carpets lining the marble floors on the executive level where Mr. Halliman and the heads of each department kept their offices, there was no doubt that the lobbies and levels six through seven were meant to impress paranormal leaders and more formidable clients who respected showy exhibits of prosperity and power. It was also why Mr. Halliman decided to hire a new security consultant from Weard Enterprises.

  As soon as I heard where the security consultant was coming from, I had doubts about staying. But, Halliman’s was one of the few firms where I didn’t risk running into high numbers since I didn’t work on the upper floors. I spent my days surrounded by 3s and 4s, along with the occasional 6 among the security and ERT personnel who were usually 5s unless they were going out on the job. I didn’t work directly with them so I was able to keep my stress levels down. The Grecian decorations occasionally gave me the chills. Greece was the birthplace of so many of the most dangerous paranormals in the world, past and present, that I could never help envisioning the terror of being surrounded by high numbers.

  I shuddered and rubbed my arms to get rid of the goose bumps. The air conditioning was blowing full force, keeping the building at sixty-five degrees, but I didn’t put on my jacket. August was the height of summer in Olympia, and it wouldn’t take long for me to grow warm with the sun shining through the windows. I just needed to stop worrying about the man from Weard.

  After all, the odds of him coming down to the fourth floor and not just passing through the lobby were incredibly slim. I had avoided him for the last three weeks, and I could keep doing so. Especially, if I never joined Beth and the others in gazing at the man. Besides, most of the men Beth and the others considered ‘hotties’ were the arrogant, self-assured jerks who imagined themselves to be God’s gift to women. No thank you.

  My watch beeped, startling me out of my thoughts and nearly sending me leaping from my chair. I glanced at the time. Thirty minutes past ten. Time to make the call.

  Picking up the phone from its cradle, I dialed the number for Sally’s Savory Salmon. Despite the alliterative naming penchant, Sally’s was one of the best catering businesses for local par
anormals. Sally and Samson were pixies which meant they not only knew how to cater to our clients’ tastes, they were also very good in situations like these when we couldn’t call in the order until as late as possible. Any meeting involving a Coyote trickster required last minute arrangements to prevent further inciting incidents.

  A gravelly voice answered, “Sally’s Savory Salmon, whatcha want?”

  “Hi, this is Lauren at Halliman’s. I’m calling to arrange catering for a lunch meeting between two parties.” My nerves steadied as I launched into the regular spiel. A lunch between Miriam our best relocator and the chief of the local Sasquatch clan was normally easy to handle, but the topic of today’s meeting made things tricky. No pun intended. The Sasquatch clan was appealing to Halliman’s to have a Coyote trickster’s pet Shunka Warakin removed since he kept letting it escape into their land. Given how particular Sasquatches were about their diets, we couldn’t risk the trickster calling in any changes to the chief’s wild caught fish and veggies. Not if we wanted to prevent the Sasquatches from going to war with the entire trickster clan, something that could quickly spread from Olympia to Seattle to the whole Pacific Northwest. A PR nightmare.

  I started rattling off the order only to be told to wait right before I was put on hold. I listened to the eerie music playing before deciding it was whale calls intermixed with the occasional sea monster. The sound of voices coming from the hall directly to the left of my station caught my attention, and I lowered the phone slightly as I looked. I hadn’t realized anyone was in the meeting rooms. Perhaps it was a budget meeting for the accountants we shared the floor with . . .

  I put the phone back to my ear. Still on hold. Then, a delicious sound caught my ear. A British accent. No one at Halliman’s had a British accent, much less a particularly delicious one. Curiosity made me look up again as the voice, male but not too old or too young sounding, came again. “The cameras will be replaced tomorrow and the rest of the updates to the lower floors shall be carried out in time to be operational Monday, Mr. Halliman.”