The Writer's Baby Bear

by Sophie Stern

  I need the job.

  I get back on the road and start driving once more. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself and start getting myself pumped up about the interview, but I just can’t. I’m still too hurt. The pain is still too fresh.

  Unfortunately, my thoughts are so focused that I don’t realize when the speed limit drops from 75 to 55 just outside of Honeypot. The sirens in the rearview mirror catch my attention and I growl in frustration as I pull over.

  Dammit.

  A ticket is not what I need right now. I barely have enough money saved for a hotel room while I’m in Honeypot. If I don’t get the job, or if I have a bunch of unexpected expenses, I will definitely be living out of my car.

  This is a problem because my car is full of clothes, books, and trinkets I couldn’t leave behind.

  Taking a deep breath, I place my hands on the steering wheel and wait for the officer to run my plates. I’ve never had a ticket before, but I’ve been pulled over, and I remember the cop explaining that he had to call in the license plate before he even came to speak with me.

  After a few minutes, my heart finally begins to slow, and I realize that this was just an honest mistake. Besides, getting a ticket isn’t the worst thing that could happen to a girl like me. By the time the officer gets out of his car and walks toward mine, I’ve convinced myself that I’ll handle this like an adult.

  I definitely will not cry in front of this stranger. Maybe I’ve been through a lot, but crying in front of strangers is definitely a hard limit for me. Unfortunately, as I begin to roll my window down – yes, my car is so old that I have toroll the window down – I catch a glimpse of the cop and he’s no tubby police officer.

  No, this guy is tall, cut, and fit to be tied.

  Dammit.

  My mouth goes dry when he approaches and I’m very aware of the fact that I’ve been in a car all day and probably smell like stale French fries.

  “Hello, ma’am,” the officer greets me, standing outside my window. He places one hand on top of my car and peers in the window at me. I swallow loudly as I stare at his aviators.

  He’s so tall he almost has to bend in half to peek into my car. Suddenly, I wish I was wearing a low-cut shirt to give him a show. He smiles brightly, his perfectly white teeth shining in the evening sunset. And oh, is he filling out that uniform in all the right places.

  “Fuck me,” I say out loud, and I immediately cover my mouth with my hand and start shaking my head. Shit! Shit. Shit. Shit. I did not mean to say that out loud. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, and look away, completely embarrassed. I can’t believe I just said that to a stranger.

  To my surprise, the police officer doesn’t get upset, though. He just chuckles.

  “New to the area?” He says, and I nod, but don’t say anything. “Well, do you know why I pulled you over?”

  This is the part where I feign innocence. This is the part where I cry damsel, where I say that I just got out of a bad relationship and I’m trying to get a fresh start. This is the part where I say I didn’t know any better, where I simply say that I missed the sign.

  Only when he lowers his glasses and I see his deep brown eyes, I know I can’t lie to this cop.

  Something tells me he’ll know whether I’m telling the truth or not.

  Something tells me he doesn’t do lies.

  “I was speeding,” I blurt out, and again, cover my mouth. What is with my bluntness around this guy?

  He nods, and asks for my registration and driver’s license. I hand both over to him, cringing the entire time. He flips over my license and eyes my registration, then he asks me the question I’ve been dreading.

  “And where are you headed, ma’am?”

  I point to the exit that’s just up ahead, number 234.

  “Honeypot,” I say. “I have a job interview tomorrow.”

  “Is that so, miss?” He looks surprised, and I wonder why. I’m guessing not too many new people come to Honeypot. It’s basically in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dense forests. The last exit was about ten miles back, so I’d say it’s pretty isolated.

  “It’s not full of murderers, is it?” I ask him on a whim, wondering what secrets I’ll discover in the tiny town. “Because if you say it is, I’ll turn right on back around.”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “No murderers. No need to worry about that. Now, you just hold tight.” He heads back to his car to check something. I don’t know what. Maybe he’s checking to make sure there aren’t any warrants out for my arrest.

  I sit still, not bothering to play with my phone or pretend to listen to music. I don’t have anyone to text and I doubt I get cell service out here, anyway.

  Lucky for me, dating Jacob really ruined my friendships, so I don’t have anyone to care that I’m gone. There’s no one to miss me, no one to call. Everyone hated him and when I was with him, I became this unrecognizable bitch. It was my own fault, but the truth still hurts.

  Finally, the officer returns and gives me a ticket. He looks at me, all business, and tells me to slow down.

  “Yeah,” I say, taking it glumly. I shove it in my glove compartment, along with my registration. My license goes back in my wallet. “I’ll do that.”

  “Best of luck in Honeypot,” he says, trying to be friendly. I can tell he’s the kind of cop who takes pride in his work, who doesn’t give out tickets just to be mean. Still, it’s annoying he chose me to target for his ticket-writing today.

  “Yeah. Thanks. I hear the Blair Ranch is beautiful,” I say, trying my best to stay calm. Don’t cry, Hope. Don’t think about how much this ticket is going to cost you, Hope. “Hopefully it’ll be everything it’s rumored to be.”

  “The Blair Ranch?” He cocks his head, suddenly interested. His body is turned, like he’s going to walk back to his car, but he pauses, waiting to hear more.

  “Yeah, I have an interview there tomorrow,” I say. I try not to meet his eyes. Those dark brown, beautiful, gorgeous, could-get-lost-in-them eyes are just too much. This guy must be drowning in pussy because he’s seriously hot. “I’m hoping I’ll get it,” I add, motioning toward the back of my car. “Obviously.”

  He looks in the backseat, seemingly noticing the boxes for the first time.

  “Is that so?” He says. I can’t tell if he’s curious, amused, or annoyed. This guy is completely unreadable to me, which is fine. I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m only looking for a job and possibly a new vibrator if this town has a sex store, which I’m guessing it doesn’t, based on its current population size.

  “Yeah, well, who knows how many people they interviewed?” I shrug. I really shouldn’t get my hopes up. “But the guy wanted to see me in person, so I guess that’s good, right?”

  Why the hell am I talking so much? This poor cop doesn’t need to hear my life story or how nervous I am about the interview.

  “Do you know Mr. Blair?” I ask. I’ve only ever talked with the guy through email. He could be a cranky old codger for all I know.

  The cop nods. “I know him,” he says. “Wyatt is a good man.”

  “No, my interview isn’t with Wyatt. It’s with Carter,” I say, remembering the unique name. Carter Blair. I wonder what Carter is like. Maybe he’ll be one of those friendly old guys who wants to tell me stories about the war or who just wants someone to read him the newspaper at breakfast. There’s always the chance he’ll be an asshole, old and crabby, but I’m trying to keep my hopes up as much as possible.

  The cop laughs, and I look back up, meeting his eyes that time.

  “Trust me,” he says. “You might be meeting with Carter, but Wyatt is the one you need to impress.”

  “Any tips?” I ask him hopefully. Suddenly, getting a ticket doesn’t seem like the worst possible thing to happen to me today. Maybe the cop has some great insight I can use to ace my interview.

  “Don’t put up with his crap,” the officer says. He doesn’t even have to think about it. “Stand your ground with h
im no matter what he says.”

  “I thought I was supposed to kiss my new boss’ ass,” I tell him. “Isn’t that the secret to getting hired?”

  “Not with the Blair brothers,” he tells me. “With them, you need to be firm. Show them they can’t boss you around. And a low-cut shirt won’t hurt. Have a good day, miss.” He tips his hat and leaves.

  My jaw is on the floor, but for the first time this entire trip, I can see myself actually landing this job.

  Be firm?

  I can do that.

  Don’t let them boss me around?

  I can do that.

  Wear a low-cut shirt?

  I can definitely do that.

  Honeypot, here I come.

  Click here to get your copy now!

  Don’t Date Demons

  DID YOU ENJOY READING about a thief’s wonderful adventures in By Hook or By Wolf?

  I have another paranormal story out starring a thief who is thrust into an adventure she didn’t ask for. Don’t Date Demons has magic, mystery, and a little bit of mayhem. If you like shifters, demons, angels, and vampires, this is the book for you! Get your copy wherever eBooks are sold or keep reading to check out chapter one.

  Chapter One

  Amy

  The dark building looms over me, but I’m not afraid. I glance at it casually, almost in passing. On any other day, I’d be fascinated by the intricate architecture and the elaborate design of the structure. Usually, I’d want to know how it all came together. I’d analyze it, evaluating every angle and decorative flair.

  Today is different, though.

  Today I’m on a mission.

  Right now, I’m too focused to care about the fact that I’m closer to the Mountain than most people get in a lifetime. The building that houses the King of the Vampires isn’t a place people go casually.

  Or at all.

  If you’re going to the Mountain, it’s because you’re important, you know someone who is, or you pissed off someone who is.

  Me?

  I’m none of those things.

  I’m better than that.

  At least, I like to think I am.

  I slink around the side of the building and look out for monsters. Here in the darkness, they tend to be everywhere, but they aren’t out tonight. Not the way they usually are. It’s strange and it makes me feel just the slightest bit uncomfortable. It’s not supposed to be this easy.

  It’s never this easy.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rise up, but I ignore the sensation, choosing instead to keep moving swiftly, carefully. With determination and sheer endurance, I move to the West entrance. The guard is gone, as promised, and I slip the key from my pocket. It’s old and rusty and much too outdated for a place this pristinely perfect, but the King has always been a cocky son-of-a-bitch. He’s not the type of person who thinks anyone would dare approach him or break into his palace.

  Then again, he’s not really a person at all.

  A voice in my head sounds.

  “Songbird, hurry up. You have twelve seconds.”

  Ignoring the voice, I don’t respond. Instead, I focus on slipping the key into the crumbling lock and turning it. No one uses this entrance anymore. In fact, despite having a regularly posted guard, I’d guess no one has used it in years. It makes this the perfect choice for entering the Mountain. The “impenetrable” fortress has long been a place where good souls go to vanish. It’s also supposedly the home of one of the greatest treasure rooms in existence.

  Not that I’m planning on being here long enough to enjoy it.

  This place is known for its incredible beauty, but it’s also known for the monster who runs it.

  Derek, King of the Vampires, takes no prisoners. We all know this. More importantly, we all respect it.

  Well, some of us do.

  Others, like me, take advantage of it.

  If he catches me, he’s going to kill me. He’s not going to let me live to regret my choices, so I might as well enjoy them all. This makes for an interesting life and tonight, it makes for an interesting adventure.

  I slip silently through the doorway and shut the heavy door behind me. Just as it clicks into place, I hear the guard’s quiet footsteps padding back into position. Apparently, Daisy has finished entertaining the guard. She was going to try to distract him for a little while so I could get inside. Considering the fact that she’s not anywhere close to the Mountain, I have no idea how she did it.

  I didn’t ask.

  Daisy is a determined woman, but she has her secrets, just as I do. We work together, but we play our cards close to our chest. It’s safer for everyone that way, and in my world, safety is the most important thing we have.

  Now that I’m in, I’m on the clock. I have a limited amount of time before the vampires are done patrolling. I press a button on the side of my glasses and my normal shades change to night vision. Perfect. I can see clearly in the room now and, better yet, I can see where any alarm systems or traps might be.

  Carefully, I glance over the boxes and stored items in this room. Dust has settled on everything, and not just a thin layer, either. No, the dust in this room lets me know it hasn’t been used in a very, very long time. Years, maybe. Decades. It’s not the type of place Derek expected anyone to break into. Seriously, his side door is used as a place for him to store his holiday decorations? Stupid.

  I step over three tripwires and dodge two laser alarms before I reach the next doorway. This one has a data sensor. I slide my gloved thumb over the sensor and, as I hoped, it lets me in. Perfect. I’ll have to remember to thank Daisy later. Her work tonight has been un-fucking-believable. I move to the hallway and this time, I cringe as the lights hit my eyes. They’re brighter than anticipated. Quickly, I shut off the night-vision on my glasses as I keep moving. That’s the key here: never stop moving.

  When I was younger, I did. I didn’t know just how important it was to be swift and cautious.

  I didn’t realize how vital it was to stay hidden at all costs.

  That cost me more than I care to think about.

  Things are different now.

  Now I know better.

  “Forty seconds,” Daisy whispers in my head and I nod, but don’t respond verbally. I’m pretty sure she can see me. There are cameras sprinkled throughout the hallway and I don’t bother trying to hide from them. That’s Daisy’s department. I’m the thief; she’s the brains. She gets me in and gets me out and then we split the profits from whatever it is I’m supposed to take.

  Today it’s some sort of knife. It’s old as hell, and if we succeed, the payday is going to be exactly what we’ve been waiting for. Daisy has a family to feed, after all.

  And me?

  Well, it’s just me now.

  I hurry to the end of the hall and then turn. Three more turns and finally, I find myself standing in front of a treasure trove. That’s really the only way to describe what I’m looking at. It’s fucking gorgeous: an entire room full of every imaginable item. There are piles of jewelry and display cases with vases and statutes and gold bars. I feel like Aladdin in the Cave of Wonders.

  It’s vast.

  It’s incredible.

  And it’s all right here.

  “Songbird, stay focused,” I hear Daisy’s voice in my head, and I know that she’s right. I’m not out of the woods yet. The Vampire King is not exactly known for his patience. If he found out someone was trying to rip him off, he’d be on my neck in an instant. That’s why I’m the only one who would take this job. That’s why I got to charge whatever the hell I wanted for this job.

  And charging hell is exactly what I’m doing.

  After this, I’ll be able to retire: free and clear.

  There will be no more robbing.

  No more thieving.

  No more dodging vampires.

  Nope.

  After tonight, Daisy and I are packing up. She’s taking her family somewhere else: maybe someplace warm, like the beach. And me?<
br />
  I’ve got a cabin in the woods just calling my name.

  I’m ready to escape from people, from reality.

  I’ll be happy if I never see another fucking vampire again.

  I scurry into the room and look around quickly. I have only seconds to grab the knife and get the hell out of dodge. There are stacks of books and piles of gold coins. There are trophies and gold statues. Basically, everything I’m looking at is bright and shiny. I don’t know where to even start looking for the knife.

  But we’re certain that’s it here.

  Our intel is never wrong.

  Bad intel means that we all die, so Daisy and I go above and beyond to make sure that anything we look for is a sure thing.

  And a magical weapon?

  That’s a pretty sure fucking thing.

  Magical swords and knives have been around since the dawn of time. It’s impossible to tell which ones really existed. Humans love fairy tales and nothing makes for a good story quite like a magical object. I mean, there’s Excalibur, wielded by King Arthur. There’s Caesar’s Crocea Mors. Hell, there’s even Ninurta’s Sharur. These weapons have been talked about, studied, and sought for thousands upon thousands of years.

  Yet very few magical items have been found or captured.

  Until now.

  The Sword of Edith isn’t something most people know about or most people have been able to get. Not any humans, anyway. Not that many are looking for it. Most people are too damn scared of Derek’s army or his reach to be willing to sneak directly into his home and steal from him.

  Good thing I’m not most people.

  I peruse the treasure room and I try not to stress. I don’t see it. There are piles of gold and stacks of treasure chests. Could it be in one of those? This entire place looks like the kind of room you’d see in a dragon’s cave. Then again, vampires are probably just as old as dragons. They certainly have a lot of the same characteristics. Scanning the room, I note the gold benches, the chairs, the tables. I see the gold statues and the silver boxes. I see rings, necklaces, and every other kind of treasure I could possibly imagine.