Bound to the Bounty Hunter

by Hayson Manning

  “I don’t want you at my house, Harlan. You need to leave. Today.”

  His eyes widened then narrowed. He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

  She held up her hand. “There’s nothing to say, so don’t.” She took two steps forward.

  A pair of dancers shuffled down the middle of the line leaving Sophie closer to the pillar she searched for.

  Awesome. At this rate I should be at the front of the line in two weeks.

  Before she let her bad mood settle over her like a persistent, rainy cloud, she smiled at the woman standing beside her, who’d shuffled down the line of people. Her powdered cheeks were pink, her forehead damp, her green eyes sparkled like polished emeralds.

  “He gets better every year, my Frank,” she said to Sophie behind her hand. “I don’t tell him, though. I like to keep him on his toes.”

  Sophie laughed.

  The tempo of the music changed to a slow waltz.

  She looked around for a single gent whom she could shuffle around the bandstand toward the post where her equipment was.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re—?”

  She got no further. Harlan’s hands were on her hips, dragging her until she was plastered against the long, hard length of him. She placed her hands between them to push him away, settling on his pecs, her fingers brushing against thick nipple rings.

  Oh my.

  She turned her head to hide the heat pounding into her cheeks.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m waltzing.”

  Before she had time to react, he pulled the tie, releasing her hair. He leaned in and buried his face in it.

  “Gets me every time,” he said.

  “Stop doing that. You—”

  “What exactly are you doing here?” he asked. “Doesn’t seem your scene,” he said, leading her again across the creaking wooden floor.

  She moved left and tried to pull him in the same direction.

  “Been on my bucket list for a while,” she said through gritted teeth when he wouldn’t budge. “Next week is knitting coats for cats.”

  She went to move left but he went to move right.

  “You have to let me lead,” he said, his breath tickling her ear.

  She stood on her toes, her lips brushing his earlobe and thought for a moment she’d heard him growl. “No, I don’t.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  His hands tightened on her waist, and with gentle force he moved her in the direction he wanted her to go.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “We’re waltzing.” His fingers pressed deeper.

  One hand splayed across the bottom of her spine, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her in tight.

  Hip to hip, chest to chest, his unique scent of soap, sweat, and man filling her.

  Everyone else melted away.

  His pulse steady and slow against her fingertips. His head resting lightly on the top of hers. They moved in time to the slow beat.

  “Letting me take control wasn’t too bad.” A smile teased his lips.

  The mood broken like a boulder landing in a still pond, she stiffened and pulled back.

  His eyes flashed. “Oh, hell no. You all soft against me? I’m not giving that up.” He pulled her against him and touched his lips to her neck.

  She fought the heat that traveled down the column of her neck then exploded throughout her body.

  And failed.

  The music turned into a sultry tango.

  Her head whipped left.

  A tango.

  A sexy tango when you weren’t sexy, with a man who radiated sex appeal and whose tank was topped up?

  No.

  She tried to fight her way out of his hold, but he tightened his grip.

  All the insecurities of growing up as the too-tall, too-plain girl, growing into the too-tall, too-plain woman, clawed at her insides.

  “Let me go,” she whispered.

  “What’s wrong? I thought you were here for the dancing.” His fingers flexed around hers.

  With effort she spun out of Harlan’s arms and into the surprised face of an old man who beamed down at her.

  Irish moss aftershave along with the scent of faded roses filled her head as couples moved around them, their faces either smiling or set with steely determination.

  “Now this is more like it,” he said, his arthritic fingers lacing with hers, her cheek pressed to his, and she laughed out loud when he marched her across the floor.

  The man twirled her into open space.

  She landed on a hard chest, hands gently gripping her hips.

  Before she could protest, Harlan marched her forward, hip-to-hip, zigzagging around the smiling faces of the older dancers.

  “Going to twirl you now.”

  “Don’t, please,” she said, desperate.

  He twirled her as if she weighed a hundred pounds, which she did not. Her feet tangled, her stomach lurched, training kicked in, and she twisted her body so her shoulder would break her fall. The bandstand floor loomed.

  Two strong arms scooped her up and plastered her against an equally strong chest.

  “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He swept her hair off her face in a surprisingly gentle gesture, one hand now cradling her head, one hand splayed at the base of her spine.

  Sweat streaked down her forehead, her polo stuck to her body. Harlan looked as if he were delivering a lecture on climate change to icebergs. No sweat on his brow. No damp shirt for him.

  “You’re hot,” he murmured.

  “I know. Let me go and I promise not to shake all over you like a Labrador after a bath.”

  He chuckled. “No, I mean you’re hot. Panting and flushed face with your chest pressed against mine. Hot.”

  He pressed in to her, and his attraction was apparent. Long, thick, and very apparent.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh.”

  He dragged her hips closer to his, nestling his hand lower on the waistband of her jeans until his hand slipped underneath the denim, his fingers searing her flesh.

  When she licked her lips, his eyes blazed, leaving her in no doubt of what he wanted, which didn’t make sense. One minute she thought he wanted her and the next he was barking orders at her. The man was more confusing than a maze.

  Sophie needed a distraction. The last two functioning cells in her brain banded together and devised a plan before she melted into him, lost herself, only to find she was locked in a bathroom in her underwear, his laughter trailing her.

  The music changed, breaking their connection. She managed to unplaster herself from Harlan’s long, hard body, one part harder than the rest.

  Time to get back on track and the reason I’m here.

  Panting and with her head in a spin, she moved to the railing housing the equipment and leaned against it. She waved her hand at Harlan. “I’m sitting this one out, but go and make Maude’s day.” She gestured with her head toward a fit-looking woman, a paper label on her checked dress announcing her name. Harlan shook his head and stood next to Sophie.

  Sophie’s heart thumped into her throat. Her fingers curled around the smooth wood. The bet was about to have a winner.

  Her.

  No more Harlan in her house on the pretense of being here for the bet. No more Harlan screwing with her mind and her body.

  No more Harlan, period.

  Swallowing became a chore. Her hand probed the wood while she kept her head forward, her eyes on the dancers, a plastic smile curling her lips.

  The tiny lump of modeling clay where she’d left it.

  Excellent.

  Slow and steady.

  She worked at keeping her breathing even, her body seemingly relaxed.

  A bubble of clay started to loosen and slip through her fingers.

  Yes.

  Harlan’s hand encased hers.

  No.

  “
This is mine,” she said, anguish underscoring the words.

  She’d fought for this. It wasn’t just the bet, it was trying to figure out if her whole life had been a lie.

  He looked down at her, his face thoughtful, not releasing his control on her fingers.

  “We’ll listen to it together.”

  Whoa.

  This wasn’t the Harlan Franco she knew. The Harlan Franco who did not compromise, especially with her, especially on bringing in a prize.

  “What’s the catch? You’ve never given me a break. Ever.”

  His jaw worked. “I think we can call this a draw.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “But you don’t compromise.”

  He dug his hand through his hair. “For you that’s all I seem to do.”

  Confused, she stared at him, her mouth open. She clamped her mouth shut when Harlan guided her through clapping couples doing the Hokey Pokey.

  In a daze, she walked to his car, then slipped into the passenger seat and hugged her knees to her chest.

  He connected the recorder to his car stereo. Static filled the car, then Babic’s voice started commanding his slaves at Hostage. The beat of the music didn’t drown out the slurping sounds.

  She stared in fascination at the dashboard, her face hot.

  Oh God, please let this be over soon.

  She sneaked a glance at Harlan, who looked like he’d eaten a toad.

  Sophie squirmed in her seat as the recording progressed and more commands, grunts, and groans of pleasure filled the enclosed space of the car.

  “What is this woman doing here?” A voice she didn’t recognize, the man who sat down at Babic’s table. The sound of skin on skin halted momentarily then started up again. A gagging sound and Babic’s voice.

  “Relax.” Babic replied. “I have already told Petrov about her. Everything is going according to plan.”

  A murmur of protest from a Barbie was followed by a barked command for her to sit and stay.

  Babic, forever the charmer.

  Sophie stared out the window worrying her bottom lip.

  What woman were they talking about?

  She’d only been there on Friday nights; there were probably a whole range of people turning up at his table during the week.

  Babic’s voice, stronger and filled with bone-freezing venom, reeled her mind back to the conversation.

  “Sophie Callaghan will get what she deserves.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sophie’s head snapped back and her blood froze in her veins, Babic’s words echoing in her head.

  Sophie Callaghan will get what she deserves.

  Winded, she couldn’t pull a breath.

  Babic knew about her father’s cons?

  Is this why her father had a detailed journal on Petrov and his movements, because her father had conned the man?

  “Sophie?”

  Cold sweat coated her body. She couldn’t look at Harlan. She could only concentrate on one thing at a time.

  It fit. Her father had conned Petrov, who was now out for revenge, which is why her father had kept the journal.

  She stared out at a group of children hanging upside down on monkey bars, their faces stained red with laughter and exertion. She’d vowed to pay back every last creditor. True, she hadn’t anticipated this level of debt, but one buck or ten thousand, she owed.

  “Look at me.” Harlan’s warm hand cupped her jaw. His touch, his gentle voice, had the ability to dissolve her and leave her exposed and more alone than she’d ever been.

  And she’d been alone all of her life.

  I can’t do this.

  She turned in her seat, one hand on the door. “I have to go.” She sprinted to her car, which, sensing her mood, started on the first try.

  She drove around Denver, concentrating on driving, letting her mind wander. If her father had conned Petrov, she was screwed. She didn’t have the kind of money it took to pay back a man like Petrov, and robbing banks wasn’t in her future.

  The ping of an incoming text distracted her. She pulled over and read the reminder from Annie, who’d texted her address again. There were four texts from Harlan and two missed calls.

  She rubbed the throb in her temple.

  For the first time in her life she’d found a home. Leaving Titus and Sally? Starting her profession again in another state? Knocking on doors day after day, handing out flyers, hoping someone would take one. Taking low-paying jobs, sitting in dirty bars and strip joints photographing cheating partners.

  She couldn’t think about this now. She needed a distraction, to do normal stuff, like shopping. She drove home and parked in her driveway next to one of Harlan’s cars.

  She walked to the passenger side window of the SUV, which opened on her approach.

  “Hey, Thor. I’ve got a few things to do between now and heading out. I’m giving you a heads-up. I’ve got a girls’ night out and I’ll be hitting Safeway, a liquor shop, a pharmacy, and a sex shop that sells male appendages.” Thor blinked and rubbed his hand across his chin, scowling when she said “appendages.” “I’m not sure how long I’ll be shopping for male appendages, having never shopped for male appendages before.”

  She held back the flush that heated her chest. Just saying the words, she expected something heavy and hard to drop on her head, possibly in the form of a bible.

  “Jesus, Sophie, stop saying the word ‘appendages.’ You know I’ve got my orders. I have to stay with you at all times.”

  She leaned in to the window. “I’d check your phone. All bets are off between your boss and me, who isn’t my boss.” She smiled. “If you feel the need to shop for male appendages, please feel free to come along. What do you think—vibrating or not?”

  “Jesus, Sophie, you’re going to fucking kill me.” He stared at her, brows drawn together over eyes that looked black, but were a deep, inky blue. His dark-blond hair messy.

  “I realize stepping into a sex shop for ‘man power’ might give your street cred a bit of a hit, but looking like you do, I think you’ll survive.”

  The suffocation of always being followed, coupled with nerves about the night ahead and the knowledge that she might have a debt she couldn’t pay left her jumpy, freaked out, and pissed that Harlan still had men trailing her.

  Keep it together, Buttercup.

  She bit down the hysterical bubble of laughter that her father would wander into her head right at this moment when she was thinking of vibrators.

  After a stop in the kitchen for a quick Diet Coke, she took a moment to scratch Pongo’s stomach—his second favorite thing in the world behind food. Knowing there’d be no time for soul-soothing TV later, she’d already Googled the spoiler alerts on the drama surrounding the good folk of Genoa City.

  Normality achieved, Sophie walked to her car. She considered whether she should have brought the car in like Pipe said, as the engine debated whether or not it felt like starting. Finally, she pulled into traffic. Thor trailed her two cars back.

  “Damn it,” she said under her breath.

  She threw in a tight left turn and heard a squeal of brakes behind her. At the next intersection, when the light turned green, she threw on her indicator and swerved right, apologizing to the bus she cut off.

  Freedom. No Harlan, no tail, just herself.

  At an unfamiliar Safeway, she picked up Pringles, sour cream, and French onion soup for dip. She added carrots and celery sticks in case anyone was eating healthy. She couldn’t afford expensive snacks, so she picked her favorite ones and hoped they would be okay. She grabbed a bottle of chardonnay and a merlot, hoping that covered all bases.

  On the way to her next stop, in her rearview mirror she noted that a brown sedan had sat three cars behind her for a while. She took the next left, ignoring Nancy telling her to turn around when possible. Instead, Sophie gripped the wheel tighter, her gaze flicking from the car to the road ahead. She took a right, pulled over, and pretended to go through her handbag, her eyes on the car tha
t sailed past. She pulled back into the traffic, noting a dark pickup that turned out of a side street she’d passed and sat behind her, one lane to her left.

  She pulled into a parking lot a block from the sex shop, one hand on her bag with the Taser, another gripping her phone. She had a clear view if the pickup went left or right. When the pickup turned left and disappeared from view, she let out a long breath and parked the car.

  She’d walked into Spanky’s not knowing what to expect, but standing in front of a wall of vibrators, her face flaming, did her best to summon an “I have so many I can’t decide” expression, until she imagined Harlan’s mouth in soft places, and a river of warmth headed between her legs. She tried to picture Thor’s blue eyes, blond hair, and panty-melting smile, but Harlan materialized in her mind and slayed Thor.

  “Can I help you?” Sophie stuffed a vibrating silver bullet back on the shelf and ran her hands across her hair.

  A woman about her age wearing jeans and a T-shirt covered in skulls walked to her.

  “She doesn’t need any help.” Harlan moved into her line of sight, eyes flashing.

  She stared at the floor and willed it to open and swallow her whole, but her pleas went unanswered.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  She went back to studying the description of the silver bullet.

  His hand landed on her shoulder. “I’m here because you’re out in the open and unprotected.”

  She put the silver bullet into her basket and added a “lick me ten times” vibrator.

  “Please take your hand off me or I’ll tase you.”

  His lips twitched, and his eyes sparkled. “Don’t make me laugh, babe, because I’m kind of pissed and that’s funny.”

  “Bet’s off, Harlan. Our arrangement is done. You can take small, blond, and submissive back to your place.” She took a step and grabbed lube from the shelf before heading for the register.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Want to tell me about the job you were working last night?” She hated the stab of jealousy she heard in her own voice.

  “If he’s bothering you, I can call the police.” The shop assistant arrived to stand beside her. Sophie silently thanked her for her “girls looking out for girls” solidarity.

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” She handed the girl the basket with a smile, ignoring Harlan. “Which would you recommend?” she asked the shop assistant. “Out of these two.”