Don't Give A Dwarf (Dwarf Bounty Hunter Book 2)

by Martha Carr

  The agent dragged herself away from the ridiculous spread of Southern food and joined him at the bar.

  Chuck jerked his chin at her with a smile as he replaced Johnny’s personal bottle behind the bar. “What can I do ya for?”

  “Um…a beer, thanks.”

  He chuckled. “Got a preference?”

  “Not really.”

  “Good. ʼCause I got a wide selection of one.” The man reached back into a huge cooler filled with half-melted ice and beer bottles, popped the cap off one of them with the bottle opener mounted on the wall beside him, and handed her the beer. “Comes from a local brewery a few miles north. Has everything you need.”

  “Thanks.”

  Smiling, he wiped his hands on a stained rag and watched the dwarf sip his whiskey. “Thought you’d bring your woman out here to show her a good time, huh?”

  Lisa choked on her beer and shook her head. “Oh, I’m not—”

  “She’s a friend,” Johnny said calmly.

  “Uh-huh.” Chuck looked from one to the other. “Heard that before.”

  “And we brought company.”

  “You mean them hounds runnin’ wild with the kiddies out there?” The man laughed. “Sure. Call ʼem comp’ny, Johnny.”

  “Well, one of them kiddies came with me.”

  “Oh, yeah? Hadn’t heard ʼbout you and a kid.”

  “I aim to keep it that way, yeah?” The bounty hunter took a longer sip of his whiskey and rapped his knuckles against the bar. “Wide-eyed kid with brown hair and too smart for her own good comes in here—”

  “Lemonade or a coke, Johnny. This ain’t my first gig.”

  “All right.” He raised his glass at Chuck and turned away from the bar. “I’ll be back.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  As they left the shed, Lisa stopped beside a massive bowl piled high with chopped corn cobs, onions, small red potatoes, clams, oysters, shrimp, and sausage. She leaned forward to smell it and widened her eyes. “What’s this?”

  “Low country boil. With beer. That’s Florida-style, darlin’.”

  She looked at him and pointed at the stack of paper plates at the end of the shelf. “Can we simply help ourselves?”

  “Sure. But not before we get our hands on that crab outside. All this is filler for when the blues are gone.”

  “Blue crab.”

  “Uh-huh. Come on.”

  Chuck snorted and shook his head as he led his cookout-naïve “friend” outside.

  “Better get in here quick, Johnny,” Clive muttered through a dripping mouthful of steamed blue crab. “You know they ain’t gonna last.”

  Already, the locals had gathered at the long line of tall tables and picked crabs up from where they lay and ate them where they stood. The tables reached slightly above the middle of Johnny’s chest. With a grunt, he dragged a cinder block toward him with his boot and stepped onto it. “Y’all need to fix these damn tables.”

  The locals who heard his half-joking mutter laughed and reached for more of the steamed crustaceans.

  Lisa scanned the seasoned feast and raised both hands hesitantly. “Okay, I’m new to this.”

  “Oh?” The dwarf laughed. “I couldn’t tell. Here.” He selected a medium-sized blue crab and thunked it onto the table in front of him. “It’s real simple.”

  “Any parts I shouldn’t eat?”

  He chose one for himself and ripped off a huge piece that included its head and the side of its body. An open pincer dangled from his mouth as he chewed and raised his eyebrows at the half-Light Elf.

  She smirked and picked hers up. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “It’ll grow on you, darlin’.”

  “Not literally, I hope.”

  The dwarf shrugged and took another bite, and pieces of flesh and the juice of the boil beaded on his wiry red beard.

  “Here.” A woman with a red bandana tied around her head tossed a lemon wedge across the table toward Lisa. “Squeeze some of that on there, hon.”

  Johnny grunted. “Only if you wanna ruin it.”

  The locals gathered around the table laughed, and Lisa bit into her first boil-and-beer-steamed blue crab. Without the lemon.

  Chapter Twelve

  Once all the crab was finished, the locals enjoying their Everglades cookout filed into the shed to fill their plates with more food and refill their drinks. It all went incredibly fast.

  Lisa joined Johnny at one of the tables, which someone had since covered with a nondescript tablecloth weighted down by mason jars. “Okay, I gotta admit, this is all very good.”

  “Somethin’ might be wrong with you otherwise.” He bit into an ear of corn and butter and seasoning dripped onto his plate and collected here and there on his beard in thick drops.

  She handed him a napkin and looked away while he tried to wipe the stains from his button-down shirt. “I now see the difference between a cookout and a barbeque, at least.”

  “Huh. Told ya.”

  “Do you think we should get Amanda a plate before it’s all gone? I haven’t seen her since—”

  Right on cue, a horde of kids ranging from ten to thirteen or fourteen burst from the tree line at the other side of the clearing, laughing and throwing handfuls of mud at each other. Amanda was with them and she laughed hysterically when a boy who looked about her age caught a splatter of swamp mud in the face.

  He grimaced, wiped it off, and turned to grin at her. “Oh, yeah? That’s how it is?”

  She spread her arms in a teasing gesture. “Hey, if you don’t know how to duck—”

  His throw went lower than he wanted and struck her in the stomach with a splat. “Crap.”

  “You should work on your aim.”

  “Yeah, well you throw like a—”

  Amanda cocked her head. “Like a girl?”

  He rolled his eyes. “No. Not really.”

  “Hey, hey, pup!” Rex and Luther raced toward the kids engaged in their muddy battle. “Who threw mud at you?”

  Amanda pointed at the boy who tried to wipe the sludge off his face. He looked up at her, frowned, and saw the dogs. “Wait. What are you doing?”

  “Man, you didn’t even invite us to play?” Rex barked and skidded to a stop between the kids. “That’s rude.”

  The kid’s eyes widened. “What—”

  Rex shook himself vigorously and flung mud and water all over him and the other screaming, laughing kids. The boy groaned, and Amanda laughed until Luther stopped beside her and showered her with swamp water when he shook himself next.

  “Gotcha!”

  “That’ll teach you!”

  “Ugh.” Amanda swiped the mess away from her face and shook off a thick glob of dog drool. “Good boys?”

  Luther barked, then raced across the clearing. “You ca-an’t catch me!”

  Rex snorted. “No one’s chasing him.”

  “Those your dogs?” the boy asked.

  “Kinda.”

  Rex looked at her and his tail wagged. “Hey, that’s sweet, pup.”

  “They’re Johnny’s.” She located Johnny and Lisa seated at one of the tables and gave them a small wave. Clods of mud dripped off her arm.

  The woman waved in response. He merely grunted and focused on his food.

  The boy looked curiously at Amanda. “You live with Johnny Walker?”

  “Only for a while, I think.” Her eyes lit up and she spun toward the tree line and the edge of the swamp. “Hey. Bet I can catch more frogs than you.”

  “You throw mud and catch frogs?”

  “Yeah.” She put her hands on her hips. “Got a problem with that?”

  He shrugged. “Nope.” Then, he raced past her toward the water.

  “Hey!”

  She gained on him quickly and he laughed. “But you fell for that one!”

  Amanda rolled her eyes and caught up to him as he stopped at the edge of the water. She shoved him from behind and he splashed into the swamp with a yelp. “So did you.”


  He looked at her, dripping with mud and water and with reeds clinging to his hair. They both began to laugh as she helped him to his feet.

  Johnny drank his whiskey and watched the girl disappear into the thick trees of the swamp with Clive Brightmon’s son. Anyone else’s kid, and I’d be worried about what they doin’ out there on their own.

  “So no on making her a plate, then.” Lisa served a shrimp shell onto her plate and bit the tail off.

  “Naw, she’s havin’ a good time.”

  “You don’t sound very convinced, Johnny.”

  “It’s good for her. I reckon she ain’t had much time for playin’ in the muck up north. Investment-banker old man and all.”

  Lisa nodded. “Yeah, she looks happy.”

  “Yep.” He licked the seasoning off his fingers and swiped his beard and mouth with a napkin. This is what she should be doin’. Not runnin’ around after shifters and Oriceran monsters.

  “You’re doing a good job with her, Johnny.”

  The dwarf looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “I had a little practice. Once.” He cleared his throat. “After twelve, though, I don’t know shit about raisin’ teenagers.”

  She laughed. “Said every parent ever.”

  “Johnny. Hey, Johnny.” Luther’s snout poked over the edge of the table on the other side of Lisa. “Tell her to hand over the scraps.”

  “Yeah, Johnny.” Rex’s tail thumped against their legs beneath the table as he sniffed through the grass. “No one’s droppin’ a damn thing at this party. If somethin’ doesn’t change soon, we’re gonna keel over.”

  “Hey, lady.” Luther pressed his nose against Lisa’s elbow, and she turned with a surprised laugh.

  “Hey, Luther.”

  “You gonna eat those shrimp shells or what?”

  Johnny whistled, and both dogs sat. “Table’s taken, boys.”

  “But Johnny. Look at her. She doesn’t know how to shell.”

  “Yeah, she’ll drop something.”

  Johnny snapped his fingers and pointed away from the table. “Git.”

  “Someone’s in a mood.” Luther stalked off and sniffed the ground as his brother emerged from under the table.

  Rex licked his chops and poked his snout over the table toward Johnny’s plate. The dwarf shot him a warning glance and shoved the paper plate toward the center of the table.

  “Aw… Come on, Johnny. What’s the big deal?”

  He grunted, downed the rest of his whiskey, and stood from the table with his empty glass in hand. “My hounds don’t eat scraps.”

  “Luther!” Rex barked. “He said we don’t eat scraps! Get over here!”

  Luther raced toward the table and sat instantly beside his brother as their master headed to the shed. “Oh man, oh man, oh man. Finally.”

  “Is everything okay?” Lisa called after him.

  “You sit tight, darlin’. I won’t be a minute.” As he rounded the corner of the open shed, someone turned the music up. Some of the locals whooped and laughed as “Florida Blues” by Ricky Scaggs blared across the clearing. He shook his head and placed the empty rocks glass on the bar.

  Chuck smirked and slid a freshly poured four fingers of Johnny Walker Black toward him.

  “Right on time.” He downed the contents, nodded at the huge man, and went to find two plates. He stopped at the half-empty bowl of blackened shrimp.

  “I knew you couldn’t stay away,” Hannah said behind him with a coy smile.

  “A spread like this? There ain’t no reason to stay away.” He lifted the bowl and poured the shrimp onto the plates.

  Her eyes widened but she didn’t try to stop him. “You miss me, Johnny?”

  Licking his lips, he set the empty bowl down and picked up the plates now heaped with piles of seasoned shrimp. Not this again. When he turned toward her, he gave her a brief smile. “That’s one hell of a loaded question, darlin’.”

  “I missed you.”

  “Well, I came back.” He shrugged. “Shrimp’s too damn good to pass up.”

  Hannah laughed and brushed her blonde hair out of her face. She watched the bounty hunter as he trudged out of the shed.

  “Want another drink, Hannah?” Chuck asked from behind the bar. “Might help with the disappointment.”

  “You mind your own business, Chuck Hornby.”

  The bartender shrugged with a small smile. “You’re in my bar. And the only thing brings Johnny back for seconds is fixin’s and whiskey.”

  She stared at him and rolled her eyes. “Vodka soda, Chuck.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Outside at the table, Rex and Luther watched their master with their tongues lolling out of their mouths. Slobber pattered onto the grass, and their tails thumped against the ground.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Luther whined, raised his rear end two inches, then forced it down again. “Johnny. Hey, Johnny. Who are those for?”

  “Shit, Johnny. Say somethin’.”

  “You done good today, boys. I expect nothin’ left over.” He set the plates on the ground. Neither hound moved. “Go on.”

  “Yes!”

  “You’re the best, Johnny!”

  The dwarf rubbed his mouth and chin. Flecks of blackened shrimp scattered across the grass as the hounds gobbled as much as they could as quickly as possible.

  “Oh, shit. Spicy shrimp.”

  “Damn, Johnny. Just…” Rex chased the paper plate across the grass in an attempt to lick it clean.

  “Where’d Lisa go to?” Johnny asked.

  “Lisa? Who’s Lisa?”

  “I know where the shrimp is, Johnny.”

  Rolling his eyes, he scanned the clearing and located Agent Lisa Breyer in the huddle of a dozen locals dancing with their beers and drinks in hand. Shit. That wasn’t part of the plan.

  He walked slowly toward the randomly selected “dancefloor” beneath the strands of mason jar lanterns.

  “Johnny!” She grinned at him and ran a hand through her hair. “Come on.”

  “Nope.”

  “So you’re simply gonna stand there?” She inclined her head and pouted at him across the clearing.

  The dwarf folded his arms and remained where he was.

  “I’ll dance with you, beautiful.” Marcus Neiler grinned at her and shimmied and his baggy t-shirt fluttered around his scrawny shoulders.

  Lisa fought back a laugh. “What do you call that move?”

  “You can call it whatever you want.” He lowered his head and stepped closer and his hand inched toward her waist.

  “Goddammit.” Johnny trudged toward the small group of dancing locals, most of whom had already had twice as much to drink as he had. The dancers paused when they saw the dwarf who never danced at cookouts moving through their ranks toward Lisa. Some of them chuckled. No one said a thing, though, and they all focused on their drinks and dancing.

  “Hands to yourself, Marcus,” the bounty hunter snapped.

  “What the—” The scrawny man pulled away from Lisa and stared at him with wide eyes. “Hey, man. I was only bein’ chivulous and all.”

  “Well, go do it somewhere else.”

  Marcus backed away with a nervous chuckle, then seemed to get into the music and flung his lanky limbs in every direction while he banged his head like he was at a metal show.

  A metal show would be a hell of a lot better than this shit.

  The agent swayed from side to side with the music and frowned teasingly at him. “So that’s what it takes to get you to dance, huh?”

  He sniffed and stared at the locals who moved around him. “I don’t dance.”

  “Oh, come on.” She twirled and sang along, then leaned toward him with wide eyes.

  Johnny stuck his thumbs through his belt loops and returned her stare.

  “Nothing? Johnny, no one’s that immune to this song.” She laughed. “The reason for coming out here was to have fun, right?”

  His expression unimpressed, the dwarf glanced at the s
trands of lanterns and sighed. He raised an index finger and twirled it slowly.

  Lisa stopped dancing and shook her head as her shoulders sagged. “You’re not even trying.”

  “This is the most you’ll get outta me, darlin’. You wanna see this dwarf dance, take me to a Led Zeppelin tribute show. AC/DC. Rush.”

  She smirked and straightened. “Is that an invitation, Johnny?”

  “I—” He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “That’s merely the truth.”

  A high-pitched laugh came from the far end near the tables, and they both turned to where Amanda stood, splattered by mud and swamp water and with reeds and leaves clinging to her soaked clothes. The girl pointed at Johnny with one hand and held herself around the middle with her other arm. She doubled over and stumbled until she fell to her knees and rocked as she continued to laugh.

  Lisa chuckled, and he scowled at her. “It’s a little funny, Johnny. Come on.”

  “That I don’t dance to this?”

  “That you’re one of the best bounty hunters who took in a twelve-year-old kid and brought us here for a cookout in the swamp, and the best you can come up with is this.” She wiped all expression from her face and stared at him with drooping eyelids as she raised an index finger and twirled it slowly.

  He snorted. “It looks good when you do it.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “Hold on, Johnny.” Amanda fought to catch her breath, pushed to her feet, and continued to laugh as she headed toward them.

  The dancing locals took one look at the girl, and her amusement was apparently infectious. A woman whooped behind the dwarf and sloshed beer against the back of his boots as the song ended and changed to something else he didn’t give a shit about.

  “Seriously.” The young shifter swiped wet hair away from her face and grabbed his hands. “You need an intervention.”

  “I don’t need—”

  “Great idea.” Lisa grinned. “Johnny Walker should know how to dance.”

  “Y’all are askin’ for trouble now.”

  “Come on.” Amanda swung his arms from side to side as she bobbed to the music. “There. Now move your feet.”

  “I ain’t movin’ shit, kid. Let go of me.” It sounded gruff but he smirked at the girl and she tightened her hold on his hands.