Bound to the Bounty Hunter

by Hayson Manning

  He shrugged and held up his hands. The waitress’s head swung between him and Sophie, an “I’m not getting it” look on her face.

  Yeah, she wouldn’t. Even wearing jeans, boots, and a polo shirt, Sophie outshone anyone in a room when she walked in, let alone this one.

  The waitress leaned forward and whispered in his ear that she’d be off in a few hours and could give him a Vegas experience that he’d still remember when he bounced his grandbabies on his knee.

  Under the heavy makeup she looked younger than he’d first thought.

  He turned her down, smiled at her name tag, “Margarita,” and asked what brought her to Vegas. Turns out Margaret had graduated foster care at eighteen. She’d hung with a bad crowd, made mistakes, and ended up in Vegas to earn money to go to community college. She wanted to form a nonprofit and provide low-cost childcare by the hour so moms could get to job interviews, attend classes, and not have to pay for all-day childcare that they couldn’t afford.

  He handed her his card and told her that he had a couple of contacts who could help her with enrolling in college and applications for her nonprofit if she found herself in Denver. He knew people who were always on the lookout for good wait staff. The pay wouldn’t set her up on a tropical island, but it was clean money without having to sit on an old man’s lap and wait for Viagra to kick in.

  The hairs on the back of his neck rippled. Sophie sat alone nursing a diet soda, staring at him, her face a mask.

  Margaret slipped his card into the pocket of her apron and told him with misty eyes that he’d be hearing from her, sooner rather than later. She planted a soft kiss on his cheek. The hairs on his neck flamed. When he caught Sophie’s eye, she swung her head away.

  A woman pulled out a chair and sat across from her. Both were in his peripheral vision. The woman toyed with a dark ponytail. What once had been a kick-ass body had succumbed to middle-age spread. Since she and Soph were deep in conversation, he took the opportunity to head to the john.

  He walked back into the bar to find an empty table, a chair on the floor, and no sign of either woman.

  Fuck.

  A steel band tightened around his chest, pulling across his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He jogged to the bartender, who saw his face and pointed toward the door.

  He sprinted outside, breathing in heat, his heart about to burst out of his chest. Sophie sat in the passenger side of the car, staring out the side window.

  “What the fuck?” he said, jumping into the driver’s seat. His heart felt bruised from smashing into his ribcage. “You can’t up and leave like that.” He pulled his hand through his hair. “Jesus.”

  Her lips sucked in, she turned, her face unnaturally pale. “Yeah, actually I can. I’m not at your command. I’m here working on a case. Case is done. I’m going home.”

  He stared at her. “For the fifteenth fucking time,” he said in a low voice, flexing his fingers. “There is a threat to your life. Until that—”

  She punched a button on the radio.

  He killed Celine before she hit a high note.

  Sophie glared at him then fiddled with the buttons on the car radio.

  Something had gone down. Something he couldn’t get a handle on.

  “What happened in there?” he said, changing tack.

  What happened last night?

  Celine sang about her heart going on.

  Sophie turned to him, eyes vacant. “I’m going home. You can be on the same flight as me or not, your call.”

  His gut screwed into a tight ball and threatened an escape plan.

  Some dude started singing about going to Rio, my-o me-o.

  “Fuck no.” He punched the off button.

  “Either you start the car or I hail a cab. I don’t have a preference.”

  He started the car, threw it into gear, and pulled into traffic, gripping the steering wheel.

  His phone pinged at the same time as Sophie’s. He’d have to pick it up when they got to the rental car center.

  “Oh no.”

  He swiveled his head. Sophie held her phone in one hand.

  “What?” he barked.

  “It’s from Gemma. Someone attacked Annie last night outside Pipe’s. The man had her against her car, a hand at her throat, demanding ‘where is she?’”

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  “Is she okay?”

  “The guy disappeared when Dug pulled him off. Dug stayed with Annie, who refused to call the police.” Nerves rattled Sophie’s voice.

  Harlan pulled the car over and relayed the conversation to a now-agitated Zeb, who had news of his own.

  “Jesus,” he said to Zeb. “Let me know when you get any details.” Zeb agreed and told him he was heading out to Annie’s.

  There was a lot of shit happening back in Denver. He needed to be there now.

  He pulled the Corolla into traffic, pushing the car to its limits.

  “Could it have been Mick who attacked Annie?”

  He gripped the steering wheel tighter.

  “No,” he barked, harsher than he intended.

  She swiveled to face him. “How can you be so sure?”

  “He’s dead.”

  …

  Sophie had emotionally avoided Harlan since last night and even more so when she’d met with Suzie at that bar. She’d hated the blinding fury that had slashed through her insides when Miss F Cup leaned forward and kissed him. For one heart-wrenching second she’d wanted to go to him, sink down to the ground, and be who he wanted her to be—lose herself, something she’d sworn she would never do again.

  It hadn’t been hard to distance herself when Harlan had found out about Annie and Mick. He’d kept close to her physically at the airport, but emotionally he’d been distant and on his phone constantly.

  Harlan had grabbed her hand before takeoff and not let it go. She was too tired and wound up to argue and, if she had to play the truth game, his hand in hers calmed her.

  Finally, they made it to her house. Sophie dropped her bag, sank to her knees, and hugged Pongo, surprised that Titus hadn’t been in to greet her.

  “Hey, baby boy. Were you good for Uncle Titus?” She pulled his soft ears and smiled when five farts filled the air.

  Sophie pulled her cell from her pocket.

  No update from Gemma.

  Nothing from Annie.

  She glanced around her house. A dying fly spun on its back on a windowsill. The scent of overripe oranges tinted the air. Titus usually opened a window for her. Strange, Pongo’s bowl was empty. Something Titus would never let happen. He loved her dog and showed it by feeding Pongo treats.

  “I’ll check on Titus.” She moved to the door, her heart starting to hammer.

  As always, Harlan followed.

  After knocking on Titus’s door and getting no reply, Sophie turned, her heart now trying to escape from her throat.

  “What if something’s happened to Sally?” Desperate, she pulled out her cell and tried Titus’s number again. It still went to his cheery voice, asking to leave a number and he’d call you back.

  She left another message.

  Out of the corner of her eye, a man approached.

  Harlan pushed in front of her, legs wide, hand to the gun in the waistband of his jeans, one hand on her.

  “Sophie?”

  She peeked around Harlan to find Steve, her neighbor and Titus’s assistant with the neighborhood watch. Trepidation on his face mixed with a little bit of fear when he glanced at Harlan then at her.

  “Hey, Steve.” She tried to move, but Harlan held her in place.

  “If you’re looking for Titus, he’s in the hospital.”

  Her body swayed. Harlan pulled her tighter into his body.

  “What?” she managed to get out. “What happened?”

  “Far as I can tell, he came out here to collect a package, and someone got him in a headlock from behind.”

  “Where’s the package?” Harlan asked Steve, who shru
gged.

  She fought, but Harlan’s arm kept her locked in place.

  “Stop it,” she said, trying to pry his fingers off her arm.

  “We’re visible. Out in the open. You’re a target,” he clipped.

  “We’re going to the hospital. Now.” She twisted out of his grip and ran toward his car.

  If anything happened to Titus or Sally…

  This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been in Vegas, sampling buffets and Harlan, I’d have been here, and Titus and Annie wouldn’t be hurt.

  “Hurry,” she said to Harlan, barely able to get the twisted cry out of her throat.

  No sooner had the car come to a halt at the hospital than her shoes hit the concrete. She told the kind-looking woman at the desk that she was Titus Carroll’s family and stumbled into his room.

  Titus sat propped on pillows, a bandage on his head, hooked up to a drip, arguing with a no-nonsense doctor. Sally lay curled in a chair beside him, her eyes never leaving her husband’s.

  “Right. Good. You’re here. Someone with a bit of sense,” Titus said, his eyes cutting to her and Harlan standing behind her.

  Titus with a bandaged head filled her body with a cold, shattering fear.

  This is because of me.

  “Tell these people I have to go home,” Titus said, sounding like he was still in the army and had been promoted to general.

  Sophie walked to his bed and gathered his frail hand. Before she could say anything, the doctor cut in.

  “Family. Good. Titus has had a significant blow to the head.”

  Acid rose up Sophie’s throat but she pushed it down.

  “Significant my ass. I’ve had worse run-ins at Costco when they give away fried chicken samples.”

  The doctor looked between her and Harlan. “He’s had a scan and it’s all clear, but we’d like to keep him here for observation overnight, possibly longer.”

  She opened her mouth to agree when she caught Titus’s pleading, desperate appeal.

  “Sally can’t stay. This is too much for her,” he said in an urgent whisper.

  Sophie faced the doctor. “I don’t have hospital training, but I can stay with him and run checks every hour.”

  “It has to be a trained professional who can pick up on minor changes.”

  “Tell me what’s required and I’ll take care of it,” Harlan said, “If he needs a nurse at his house around the clock, it’ll happen.”

  Sophie let out a breath.

  The doctor nodded. “I’d feel a lot more comfortable releasing him under those conditions.”

  Harlan moved to speak to the doctor. Sophie made it to Titus’s bed and sagged onto it, the adrenaline that got her here starting to bleed from her muscles.

  “I’m sorry.” She reached out and placed her hand over Sally’s, who held Titus’s hand. “Are you okay?” she said to Sally, gently squeezing her hand. Sally didn’t squeeze back.

  Titus’s sharp eyes focused on her. “Nothing to be sorry for. I was collecting a box addressed to you, and a man came up behind me demanding to know where you were. I tried to turn around, but he had me in a headlock by that stage, I’m afraid.” His eyes hardened. “I swear, if I were ten years younger he’d be hog-tied on your front lawn waiting for the men in blue.” He shook his head. “But he shoved me and I fell.”

  “I’ll look after him,” Sally said in a creaky voice.

  Harlan came to crouch in front of Sally. “I know you will. A nurse is going to come and stay with you in case he gets dizzy.”

  “Pat,” Sally said, her voice rising. “Why didn’t you bring Wednesday?”

  “She couldn’t make it this time,” Harlan said, smiling at her softly.

  Sophie hauled in a jiggered breath at the tenderness on Harlan’s face.

  Titus intervened, totally focused on Harlan. “You’ll look after my girls?”

  Sophie fought a massive lip wobble and failed.

  “Always,” Harlan said gently squeezing his shoulder. “When you’re ready to leave, call me and I’ll arrange for Arabella to pick you up.”

  Titus nodded once, his eyes misty.

  Sophie stood and kissed Titus’s forehead. “Get some rest. I’ll see you later.”

  “No visitors for twenty-four hours. Complete rest and no excitement,” the doctor said.

  Sophie said nothing when Harlan pulled her in to his side and walked to the car. The trip back to her place was choked with heavy silence. The car purred into her driveway and came to a halt. Harlan turned in his seat.

  “What happened in Vegas—”

  Sophie turned. She’d been caught up in worrying about Titus and Annie. “What?”

  “Vegas, Soph, what happened in Vegas.”

  Oh hell no.

  No way were they going near that now, or maybe never.

  “Nothing.”

  Life kept throwing curve balls. One more curve ball to the head and she’d collapse, and she couldn’t afford that.

  She made it to her living room and the familiar scent of her candles, the gentle hum of the fridge, her dog.

  She rubbed her chilled arms.

  God, I can’t do this.

  She maneuvered around the coffee table and held up her hand when Harlan walked toward her, a determined look on his face. “Please don’t.”

  “Don’t what?” She made it to the snow globes and stopped, having run out of room.

  “Get too close.”

  Damn. Even she heard the catch in her voice. She turned her head away.

  His warm hand cupped her chin. For a moment she melted in to his hand, loving his strength, his warmth, his everything.

  “We’ve been closer than this all weekend. What happened? What changed?” His voice slid down her spine.

  She clamped her mouth shut.

  It didn’t appear he’d be taking no for an answer and, because for once Karma stood in her corner, her phone pinged. She swiped her finger across the cool glass.

  Annie: Can you come over? I need to see you.

  Sophie tapped out that she was leaving now.

  She turned to Harlan. “I’m going to see Annie.”

  She picked up her bag, and with legs that felt like they were melting with every step, she grabbed the car keys off the rack.

  Harlan’s hand curled around her shoulder, bringing her to a halt.

  “I’ll follow you to Annie’s. Israel will take over. Zeb and I will be sitting down and working out a plan to end why people close to you are getting hurt.”

  She stilled.

  Wait. Your plan?

  I don’t think so.

  She took a breath, turned, and faced him.

  “You want to fill me in on your plan?”

  He glanced at his watch, looking impatient.

  “It’s on a need-to-know basis.”

  Wow.

  Wow.

  “And you’re saying I don’t need to know?” Her voice rose.

  His eyes flashed, and his mouth tightened. “When the time is right we’ll talk.”

  “Sure we will.” She turned away.

  This was her mess to clean up. Not Harlan or any of his crew. Hers and hers alone.

  She made it to Annie’s house without remembering the drive. She should have pulled herself over and written herself a ticket, but she wanted away from the vehicle following her and the man inside.

  One look at the welts on Annie’s neck and Sophie’s knees buckled.

  “I brought enough margarita mix to free the world of its woes,” Gemma said, walking through Annie’s front door, dragging a cooler behind her. “I’ve also got Pringles for Soph, and ice cream and crackers for Annie, which is the most disgusting snack on the planet.”

  Annie stopped loading wine into the fridge. “Did you get the Cheez-Its?”

  “Yesssss.”

  Sophie had collapsed on Annie’s sofa, her hand running over the fur of an ancient cat that had claimed her lap the moment she sat down.

  Old-style jazz played on a
turntable in the background.

  “There’re two reasons we’re here. One is the utter devastation on Sophie’s face when she got out of her car and looked at, I’m guessing, Harlan Franco in a sexy Viper,” Annie said, sitting across from Sophie.

  Sophie blinked.

  “Two is finding out who this creep is looking for, because Zeb doesn’t want to play, which makes him tailing me about as much fun as having a rash. The man thinks I’m a postage stamp and he’s an envelope, except there’s no licking involved.”

  “But that’s good, isn’t it?” Gemma stared at Annie, frowning. “Wait, no it’s not.”

  “If any man approaches me, Zeb growls and they turn away mid-stride.” Annie shook her head. “The man has made it perfectly clear he isn’t interested in me, at all, but no other man on the planet can approach. He is driving me insane.”

  Sophie took a sip of margarita, forcing it down her throat.

  “We need to figure this out, so Zeb Carmichael will be gone from my life and I can walk this earth a free woman.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police?” Sophie asked.

  Annie looked at Sophie. “Where I’m from, you never call the police, you take care of your own business, which is why you’re here.”

  “There’s something I haven’t told you.” Gemma twisted the hem of her shirt.

  “What?” Annie and Sophie said in unison.

  “I received a phone call. A guy barked ‘Where is she?’ I was so shocked I just didn’t answer. The guy went on to say if I wanted easy money, to ring or text back with the information, and an envelope of money would turn up in my car. They phoned back a couple of times, more agitated. The last time, I let the number go to voicemail. They asked if I knew where you were.”

  Now Sophie could add Gemma to the list of people hurt or about to be hurt because of her. Sophie caught the flash of pain and desperation on Annie’s face. This situation had to end, and only she could end it.

  “I…” she trailed, not sure if she wanted to do this or, if she did, how to have the conversation.

  “Annie and I are your friends,” Gemma said, her eyes serious. “You can tell us anything.”

  Annie turned to her. “Do you want to tell us what’s going on?”