Bound to the Bounty Hunter

by Hayson Manning

  The woman’s gaze shifted between the two. “I’m on my own at the moment, and the bullet is working for me.”

  “Well, I’m on my own at the moment, so that will do it for me.” She added a jar of lube, swiped her card, and punched in her PIN.

  Sophie walked out of the shop and threw her purchase onto the passenger seat. Without a backward glance at Harlan, she jumped into the driver’s seat and headed home, not bothering to check her rearview mirror.

  She pulled into her driveway. Titus stood in his driveway, his hand raised in greeting. She grabbed her stuff and went to meet him. Harlan pulled his car in behind hers.

  “Hey Titus, what have you got here?” she said, eyeing a brown box in his hands.

  “This came for you, about half an hour after you left. A man on a very loud motorbike that had the word “Master” painted in flames left the box. Said his name was Mick. Could have used a shower, quite frankly.”

  Mick’s face flashed into Sophie’s mind. After she’d had him on the ground, she could feel the hatred that had risen through his body on a stench. She had no doubt that he would have attacked her physically. He’d been banned from the bar, maybe it was his way of apologizing. She’d tell Pipe, and he’d be back in his favorite bar. She reached out to take the box, but before she could, Harlan grabbed it from her.

  She opened her mouth then closed it.

  How would Mick know where I live?

  Harlan turned the box over in his hands. Using the knife on his key ring, he slit through the brown paper, flicked open a lid, and pulled a snow globe from the box.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she breathed, momentarily lost in its beauty. She took the dome from him and shook it. “It’s an overwater bungalow in Tahiti. Look, instead of snow it’s little fish.” She read Bora Bora on the metal strip then tipped the heavy dome.

  A smile started in her stomach, expanded until it spread across her face. A warm feeling settled in her bones. She became lost in a memory. “My father gave me my first snow globe. Dorothy and her ruby slippers.”

  She blinked.

  How had that snippet floated out of her mouth?

  She turned the globe over, the cool Lucite warmed by her hands. She righted the globe, and the glittery fish settled on the bottom in a carpet of tinsel.

  “This is high-end stuff in the world of snow globes.”

  The question of how Mick would know she collected snow globes raced around her head like a Chihuahua. Had he crept around her house and seen her collection through a window? Had he found her address at Pipe’s somehow? Had he followed her?

  Blood trudged through her veins like slush. She’d have a quiet word with Cope about how Mick could have her address—the bar being their only connection. She took a small comfort that if Mick had followed her here, Harlan or one of his crew would have seen him.

  “You look lost in thought. Want to share?” Harlan’s voice pulled her out of her head. She gave him a tight smile. There was no way she was discussing her internal thoughts with Mr. Control Freak; she’d be handcuffed to the man twenty-four-seven. She squirmed when one part of her anatomy thought that was a fabulous idea.

  “I’ll get one of the boys to check it out.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

  Something about the snow globe flashed a memory she couldn’t catch. A fragment lost in a sea of images. She closed her eyes trying to capture it, but it disappeared. An unsettling feeling of walking into cobwebs crept across her skin.

  Titus’s hand landed on her shoulder.

  She shrugged off the unsettled feeling and quick-smiled at her neighbor. “Is everything okay with you and Sally? Do you have enough bread? I’ve picked up a spare loaf at Safeway, that fruit and nut loaf that Sally loves. I’ll bring it over.”

  Titus’s head swung between her and Harlan. “Please tell me you two young things are off on a date tonight. That would make an old man’s day.”

  “I am going on a date tonight, but it isn’t with Harlan.” She leaned forward, kissed Titus on his leathery cheek, inhaling his pine aftershave, and semi-relaxed. Stepping to the door, she punched in the alarm code, unlocked the door, and walked in.

  She’d no sooner thrown her Spanky’s bag on the couch than Harlan stood in front of her.

  “How do you know Babic?”

  “I thought I told you to get out.”

  Harlan’s eyes flashed but he said nothing.

  She took a deep breath. “I don’t know Babic. At all. He’s probably got me mixed up with someone else.”

  Half an hour later, she pulled up outside a stylish condo and checked the address against her phone. Harlan’s car came to a stop behind hers.

  Yep, right address.

  She kept the motor running.

  Annie’s words floated through her brain. You only get so many shots at a sideshow alley game.

  It would be so much easier to walk away.

  If worse came to worst she’d stay for ten minutes then make an excuse. She turned off the engine, grabbed the bags, took a deep breath, and exited the car.

  “Hey girlfriend.” Gemma swung bags, shutting an old VW door with her hip. “I brought ‘Hello Handsome.’ Who needs a man when we have all eight vibrating inches of him? We also have devils on horseback and enough margarita mix to subdue the mighty Buffalo Bills.” Gemma stumbled and stopped. “Whoa.”

  Harlan lounged against the driver’s side door of the Viper. Arms and ankles crossed, mirrored sunglasses on his face, his head swiveled in Sophie’s direction. He’d stayed directly behind her the whole way here. She’d gunned her car at a couple of orange lights, hoping he’d hit the reds, but no such luck.

  Sophie stared at him, wishing he’d combust.

  “Is he with you?”

  Her hands twisted. “Yes. No. It’s a short, bullet point conversation.”

  Gemma held up a bag. “Lucky I have ‘Come to Mamma’ margarita.” Her eyes slid to Harlan then back to her. “That’s not a bullet point conversation.”

  “I’ve got Pringles,” she said, hoping to steer the conversation away.

  Gemma waved to Harlan. “Honey, that’s going to need more than Pringles.”

  Half an hour later, Gemma moved her blinds. “We have a change of shift. A gorgeous blond man with a body that could turn a celibate has exited his car, walked around it, and sat back in the driver’s seat, looking like he wants to club someone to death.”

  “That’s Thor,” Sophie said, perched on Annie’s black leather sofa sipping a margarita.

  Sophie snagged one of Gemma’s devils on horseback and popped it into her mouth.

  Annie walked back from the fridge, a frosty jug of margarita mix in her hand. As she sat on the floor, a black, ancient-looking cat materialized and curled on her lap.

  Annie stroked the cat, her vivid green eyes on Sophie. “You have holy hotness driving you home from Pipe’s. Thor is parked on my street. Girl—”

  “You forgot the dude who accompanied her here. Tall, dark, and built. My underwear melted looking at him.” Gemma twirled her glass and sat opposite Sophie. “He only had eyes for Soph.”

  “You’ve got some explaining to do,” Annie said.

  She shifted in her chair. Both Annie and Gemma stared at her, Annie with an eyebrow cocked.

  Could she do this?

  Sweat rolled down her back. She wiped clammy hands down her jeans. She could make her excuses and slip out the door, or take a chance.

  “Wow,” Gemma said ten minutes later.

  Annie topped Sophie’s cocktail glass. “That’s some life story you’ve got there.”

  “So, to clarify my margarita haze.” Gemma held up her glass, which Annie refilled. “Your father—I note that you never call him ‘Daddy,’ a preacher, died having had an obsession with Vladimir Petrov. You met Harlan at Hostage where you melted into Mr. Tall, Dark and—”

  “Control Freak.” Sophie held up her hand, surprised Gemma had noticed she didn’t refer to her father as her dad. That had stop
ped when she’d found out the truth about him.

  “I think you’ve both got a bit of that going on, but let me continue, where you wowed Harlan with your party trick, which you need to teach me by the way,” said Annie.

  Gemma held up her hand. “Hang on. Bad dudes in the form of mercenaries tried to take you at a strip joint, and Harlan moved into your home after you made a bet about equipment where he claimed he’s going to have you for one night.” Gemma stared at a spot on the wall, her brow crinkled. “He’s pointed out he doesn’t do relationships and he has a stable of small, blond, and submissive women. You’re working at Pipe’s because you’re helping out your neighbor.” Gemma waved a hand. “Oh, I can add to your story. Dug has been asking when you’ll next be on shift. Me thinks he has it baaaad. He’s cute.”

  Sophie said nothing, feeling the eyes of Annie assessing her.

  So she’d left out a few details.

  “That pretty much covers it.” Sophie popped another devil on horseback into her mouth, ignoring the Dug comment. “These are fantastic, by the way,” she said, squirming under Annie’s relentless stare.

  “Prunes wrapped in bacon…who knew?” Gemma grinned at her.

  “That’s everything?” Annie asked, looking skeptical.

  “Yep.” She stared back at Annie who, after a long beat, nodded.

  “Get Harlan out of your life and move on.” Annie sipped her drink. “He’s not the one for you, Soph.”

  Before Sophie could answer, Gemma held up her hand.

  “I disagree.” Gemma crunched down on Pringles. “Sure he’s got issues, but don’t we all.” She stared pointedly at Annie. “Give him time.”

  “Forever the optimist,” Annie said under her breath.

  “Forever the pessimist.” Gemma shot her a sunny smile.

  Annie laughed.

  The love and friendship between the two women sparkled.

  “I’m thinking we need a girls’ night out. A proper girls’ night out. At Hostage.” Annie said. “Where we get all dressed up and wear wristbands.”

  “Wristbands,” Gemma breathed. She leaned forward, her golden eyes bright. “Come to my place first.”

  The answer “no” on her lips, Annie unexpectedly squeezed her hand.

  “I won’t go unless you do.”

  “Which means I’ll have to go on my own,” Gemma said, picking up her glass. “And take my chances.”

  Damn.

  Gemma would never survive Hostage on her own.

  Her head swung between the two. Annie’s lips twitched, and Gemma flat-out smiled at her.

  “If I give you an address can you pick me up?”

  Gemma nodded.

  Annie stared at her and nodded once. “Next week we’re going through your finances. I’m a financial whiz,” Annie said.

  “She is,” Gemma said, breaking the tension. “Don’t ever play her in Monopoly.

  “No, that’s all right.” Sophie tightened the band of her ponytail. If Annie was a financial whiz she’d have to explain the withdrawals of money, and that would mean explaining her father and his fleecing-the-needy scheme, something she’d only talk about in the afterlife to her father in a loud, painful conversation.

  “Thursday’s my night off so this works well.” A gleam came into Gemma’s eye when she scanned Sophie’s face. “There’s something I’ve been dying to do.”

  …

  Harlan walked into Babic’s office, not feeling over friendly about the text message he’d received summoning him. Still, good to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, and get this aired.

  Babic was on his mobile, rapid barking in Russian. He’d glanced at Harlan when he’d knocked and walked into his office. Harlan’s jaw clenched at the dismissive look on Babic’s face. Harlan sat across from Babic and took in the office, looking for a glimpse into the man. A huge desk dominated the room in an open-layout warehouse. The sound of huge rigs backing in accompanied by the sharp beeps and the whir of forklifts and male voices scrambled the air. Petrov ran trucking operations using Colorado as his hub. This was the first in a group of warehouses that lined the street. Petrov’s distinctive logo of a dark blue cursive P painted on large sliding doors.

  A map of the world covered one side of the wall in Babic’s office. Different colored pins stabbed countries. Gray, generic filing cabinets hugged a wall. A picture of Babic and Petrov with their arms flung across each other’s shoulders, standing in front of a massive cargo ship, sat in a solid silver frame on the desk. Babic had stopped speaking, but Harlan kept looking around the room.

  Harlan hadn’t been shocked at Babic’s words. Babic was the one who had told Petrov about Sophie. From what he’d observed in meetings, the man had all the warmth of a cyborg. He also hadn’t been unduly concerned by Babic’s tone—it was how the man spoke. But it had freaked Sophie out. She’d jolted as if she’d been stabbed deep in the gut. Her face had paled and she’d visibly trembled before locking down her reaction and fleeing like a herd of religious folk were trying to turn her.

  Interesting.

  Still, what had he meant when he’d said she’d get what she deserved? Time to find out.

  He stared hard at the man across from him, noting he’d make the high-rollers table at Vegas where he’d probably win a shitload. Nothing moved on Babic’s face. His eyes, a light blue, were striking against his pale skin. He always dressed well; today was an expensive, handmade Italian suit.

  “You will bring me every file you have on Sophie Callaghan and if she is Seraphina or not.” Babic barked at him.

  Interesting development. Babic was in charge while Petrov was out of communication range, but he’d never been instructed by Petrov to hand over case files. Harlan shifted in his chair, buying time, trying to figure out Babic’s angle.

  The man at the club who liked to have the shit whipped out of him until he bled was a complete contrast to the man who sat across from him. Babic was feared and respected as Petrov’s right-hand man. If you fucked with either of them, Babic would deal with you personally.

  “Petrov has instructed me to only pass files to him.”

  It was well known that Petrov was grooming Babic to take over his operations when he eventually retired and went to live on his island in Fiji or sail the globe in a super yacht. Judging by the photo, the two men were tight. Harlan had no reason to question the man’s loyalty.

  Babic leaned back in his chair. “It is I who am in charge when he is not here, and I want to review the files.”

  No one knew about the exact relationship between the two. Something had happened in Russia to Babic’s parents and Petrov had stepped in and taken an interest in the boy. Petrov had paid for Babic’s education. He’d started out in the Eastern European block countries, but had proven himself a valuable asset, so Petrov had promoted him to the USA. There’d been a lot of speculation over the years, but no proof. It was rumored he was Petrov’s secret son, an illegitimate child of a member of his wife’s family.

  Babic leaned forward, his fingers steepled, a smile on his face that didn’t meet his eyes. “I think it is time we move this forward. You are living at her place, are you not? Is it hard living with her?”

  Harlan leaned back, keeping his posture intentionally loose.

  If they were referring to his dick as the “it” then yeah, he spent most of the time with balls so blue they were practically violet.

  Harlan grinned, testing the man. “Yeah, it gets real hard.”

  Something flashed across Babic’s face and the fine hairs raised on the back of Harlan’s neck.

  “Are you married?” Harlan asked, fishing. “Got a long-term girl or guy?” Harlan held up his hand in mock surrender. “Doesn’t worry me.”

  “There is a woman…”

  The man was so emotionless it wouldn’t surprise Harlan to crank open his head and find a bunch of microchips and circuitry instead of flesh and blood.

  Sophie Callaghan will get what she deserves. The line flashed through
Harlan’s brain. “Do you have anything on Sophie that can push this case through to its conclusion?”

  Babic shrugged a shoulder casually, but a small tic started to vibrate under his left eye. “No, I know nothing about Sophie Callaghan.”

  Harlan nodded once then stood.

  “Your case notes.” Babic also stood, his hands behind his back.

  Harlan looked at him hard. “If Petrov gives the all clear, I’ll have one of my people deliver the file, but until then, I take my instructions from Petrov only.”

  Babic’s top lip curled slightly, he then nodded once, picked up his phone, punched in numbers and turned his back, dismissing Harlan, who noted the slight tremor in Babic’s hand.

  Harlan walked out into a gray, blustery day. The wind held a hint of a storm. The street vibrated in a low hum as trucks rolled into the compound. There was something about Babic that Harlan couldn’t put his finger on. Harlan unlocked his car and sat, trying to pinpoint what it was, but could find nothing concrete. He started the car and headed back to Sophie’s.

  …

  “I think I’ve had too much margarita,” Sophie said. She’d blushed and giggled at “Hello Handsome.” Screams and laughter had filled the room when she’d brought out the Spanky’s bag and the Silver Bullet vibrator. Annie had showed off her collection, which could fill an adult catalog.

  Sophie stood, and the room moved with her. “I should get a cab,” she said, reaching for her bag and missing.

  “Stay the night,” Annie said. “Both of you can. There’s a spare room and I can make up a bed on the couch.”

  “I’ve got to do the books for Pipe first thing. Family first,” Gemma said.

  “He’s family?” Sophie choked.

  Gemma grinned. “Yeah. He hates me calling him Uncle Marcus at work.”

  After digesting that information, her brain sluggishly remembered Annie’s question. “I can’t either. I’d hate to think of poor old Thor standing out there all night. He probably has a lovely Viking girlfriend named Heidi tucked away. I’d hate to deprive her of him.”