Bound to the Bounty Hunter

by Hayson Manning

  After a conversation with Petrov this afternoon where she’d insisted she’d used his car long enough, her battered car sat beside Gemma’s Beetle at the back of the parking lot.

  “Girlfriend, let’s go and slay this room.” Gemma pulled on her hand.

  Sophie ran her hands down her sheer black-stocking-clad legs and adjusted her boots. “Yeah. Today Carmen from San Antonio, Texas and Pat from Birmingham, Alabama will be getting crisp hundred dollar bills from Josiah O’Connor.”

  Gemma stilled. “You’re still on a mission to pay them back? Couldn’t you ask Petrov for help?”

  “This is my debt.” Sophie pulled on her ponytail and gave herself a once-over in the dusty mirror. Nothing earth-shattering, but she’d do. “A debt is a debt until it isn’t.”

  “That’s something Annie would say.” Gemma rolled her eyes.

  Half an hour into her shift, Sophie was in full swing. Annie had arrived, hugged her, and positioned herself at the bar. Cope had hugged her until she couldn’t breathe. The bar was packed, thanks to a cage fight and girls in bikinis wrestling in Jell-O. A few locals had welcomed her back with warm smiles. Sybil had given her a running commentary on her twin toddler boys. Thanks to the bar being full, she’d be making good tips tonight. Maybe even Pongo could get that sparkly collar she’d had her eye on at Petco.

  Pipe entered the bar from his office and walked straight to Sophie, who stilled.

  “If you don’t bring in your car to get fixed, you’re fired.”

  “I missed you, too.” She leaned in and kissed the older man’s bristly cheek. “Thanks.”

  Gemma arrived breathless at the bar, plonking down her empty tray. The smile slipped off her face, and she stiffened.

  “Oh no,” she breathed, her face paling.

  Annie spun her head, her eyes narrowing. “Damn it.”

  Sophie ignored the hairs rising on her neck and started counting shot glasses of whiskey on her tray. The table were good tippers and didn’t like to be kept waiting. “I’ll be back in three.”

  She turned and froze.

  At the back of the bar, Zeb and Thor leaned against the wood, unhappy looks on their faces. Zeb pushed off the wall and stalked to her, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

  “Don’t ever disappear like that again.”

  Thor followed Zeb. “I’ll take you shopping for appendages if you promise never to disappear.” He grinned, then his gaze flew straight to Gemma.

  The red and white of a shirt coming her way caught her eye.

  Go Chiefs.

  She blinked.

  Wait.

  I know that chest.

  Harlan stopped in front of her. One second she stood staring up at him, the next the tray was back on the bar and she was plastered against his chest, his arms locked around her, his hands flexing on the back of her head.

  Her hands wedged between them. She pushed against solid muscle, which made him pull her in to him until breathing became a challenge.

  “Let me go.” She pushed harder, emotion tightening her throat.

  “No.” He tugged the tie from her hair, which cascaded around her. He leaned in and breathed deeply. “Fucking raspberries. Thank God.”

  “Let me go.” Desperation leaked into her voice.

  “I can’t.”

  She pushed out the truth. “I don’t want this.”

  His fingers flexed against the back of her neck. “You want this,” his voice a hoarse whisper.

  “I don’t.” She dragged the words out of her heart. “Stop telling me what I want instead of listening to what I want.”

  “Don’t do this, Sophie,” he growled.

  “It’s done.” Regret tinged her words. “I need a man who’ll guard my heart no matter what the cost to his bottom line.”

  He released her, and she moved back a foot.

  “What are you wearing?” Sophie asked before she could stop herself.

  “It’s blistering me as we speak.”

  Deeper lines had curved around his dull blue eyes. Dark stubble peppered his pale and haggard face. For just a moment, she thought maybe he regretted what he’d lost.

  “We need to talk.” He gripped her elbow.

  And just like that, same old Harlan, right on cue.

  “You had your chance to talk, many, many times.” She pulled out of his grip.

  “Fuck, Sophie, these last days without you were the darkest of my life.” He pulled her close and, before she could react, he leaned in and scented her neck.

  Her body did a full shiver. The unmistakable current that ran between them hadn’t dimmed.

  “The connection between us runs deep,” he growled.

  She nodded. “And it always will, but I need more than a physical connection.”

  He dug his hands through his hair. “I fucked up. I didn’t let you in. I’m sorry. You started out as an assignment, but we became more than that, and you know it.”

  She crossed her arms. “After I shared everything you still didn’t trust me, wouldn’t talk to me.” Her voice shook, but she pressed forward. “Most of my life I’ve been inadvertently involved in a con. I just never picked you as the biggest con man of all.”

  “Sophie.” Pipe arrived at her side.

  “It’s okay, Pipe. Harlan and I are done, but thanks.” She moved out of Harlan’s reach.

  “We’re not fucking done.” Harlan glared at her.

  “Yes, we are. For once, you need to listen to me. Done. Done. Done.” With shaking hands Sophie picked up the tray of whiskey shots and delivered them to the table to find all eyes were glued on her. Heat raced up her chest and stained her cheeks. “Better than the Newmans and Abbots on a good day.”

  She ignored the pissed vibe from behind her and carried on working the bar.

  “Proud of you,” Annie whispered when Sophie walked past. Gemma squeezed her shoulder, and Pipe gave her a sharp nod.

  Sophie didn’t need to turn to know that Harlan had left the building, her internal radar letting her know the instant he walked out the door.

  “They’ve gone.” Gemma arrived breathless at the bar.

  “We have to have a girls’ night, because Zeb needs to stay gone. He’s not getting the message.” Annie downed the last of her water, her long nails drumming the bar.

  “Same with Thor.” Gemma gave no explanation, but Sophie noticed her anxious expression and the way she kept touching her ear.

  “Tomorrow night. My place. We’ll hash out plans over margaritas,” Annie said, a determined look on her face.

  At the end of her shift, Sophie stacked the last of the glasses in the dishwasher, then finished wiping down the tables. Gemma and Cope were restocking the bar. After weeks away and having basically nixed any form of exercise apart from walking Pongo, who walked slower than a sloth, the muscles in her arms, shoulders, and chest were dripping off her bones.

  Pipe arrived at her side with Pongo, the latter delirious with excitement, popping sounds filling the air.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” Pipe kept hold of her dog’s leash.

  She nodded. Too tired, mentally and physically, all she wanted was to crawl into her bed and sleep for a week.

  The unexpected encounter with Harlan tonight had shaken her more than she’d admit. Still, it was done. He was gone from her life.

  Pipe clipped Pongo into his seatbelt, and her car only needed five turnovers to start.

  “Tomorrow, bring in your car. I mean it.” Pipe barked.

  “I can’t pay you.”

  “I don’t care, bring it in.”

  Sophie nodded and gave him a wave. Tomorrow she’d turn up early at her job, but she would be paying Pipe.

  Without remembering how she got there, she pulled into her driveway. A chill wind whipped her hair when she stepped from her car. She flicked her finger across her phone, and the flashlight beam activated. She spun in a slow circle checking out the area. All the good folk of the neighborhood were tucked in bed.

 
“Good to be home, Pong.”

  Her dog danced on his leash.

  “Okay, okay, you’ll be in your bed before you know it.” She ruffled his head and waited while he did his business in record-breaking time, for once not having to sniff every blade of grass four hundred times before selecting the one.

  Her fingers skimmed over the alarm code.

  She opened the door and pulled her dog inside, threw the locks, then flicked the lights for the living room.

  Nothing.

  Weird. Bulb must be out.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket and flicked on the flashlight function again, then headed toward the kitchen.

  Pongo whined at her feet. An explosive string of farts erupted.

  “Jeez, Pong, what’s with you?”

  Pongo yanked on his leash, a deep, raw growl rooting Sophie to the spot.

  “Seraphina.”

  The lamp on her desk flicked on.

  Sophie tried to swallow but couldn’t.

  Standing beside her desk, holding a damaged snow globe with a knife through the middle, stood Babic, his chilled eyes locked on her, impeccably dressed in a dark silver suit, a white rose in his lapel. A smile that a clown wouldn’t wear twisted his face, a white dress draped over his arm.

  “I’ve been waiting a long time.” His voice sent a spasm up her spine.

  Pongo sat at her feet, still growling, farting every time Babic spoke.

  “Over the years I’ve been the one groomed to take over Petrov’s empire. When my parents died, Petrov took me in and trained me to be him. That night I saw you at Hostage…”

  “What do you want?” She tried to lick her lips, but moisture had deserted her apart from the icy sweat clinging to her brow.

  “You, Seraphina. I want you. I thought you’d taken my dream away from me, but I realized we can have it all.” He held up the dress. “Tonight you will be my bride. With you by my side as my wife, Petrov dead, going back to the way the company used to be run before Petrov lost his balls.”

  With lightning reflexes Babic moved across the room toward her. Pongo lunged at him. Babic kicked out hard, sending Pongo flying through the air before landing with a whimpered thump in the corner.

  When she went to move, Babic’s hand landed on her shoulder, his fingers digging deep. She cried out in pain, desperate to get to her dog.

  Babic’s eyes flicked to where Pongo lay. “It is only a dog. Who cares?” His soulless eyes flicked back to Sophie. Babic ran his knuckle down her face, and she fought the shudder of revulsion.

  “I should have taken you the first night I saw you. Made you mine. I nearly had you at the strip club; my men were close until Franco moved in. He had no right to touch you.” He yanked hard on her hair, snapping her head backward until she cried in pain. “He will never touch you again.”

  “Have you hurt him?” she croaked. Her throat closed, and her heart twisted painfully that Harlan was bleeding out in a gutter. Or worse.

  “Not yet.” He smiled, showing white veneers. His hot sour breath sent bile clawing up her throat.

  “Mick won’t be hurting you again. I had a man at Pipe’s who saw him try to hurt you.” He smiled, and Sophie’s heart plunged. “Nobody hurts what is mine.”

  “You’re mad,” she whispered.

  “Not mad. Only taking what’s rightfully mine.” He pulled harder on her hair, and she swallowed a whimper. “Tonight I come for my trophy.”

  He walked her into the kitchen. “Perhaps we shall drink a toast. What would be better than to have Petrov’s daughter as my queen. Did you like the snow globes? They are all the places that we will see together.”

  He leaned down and pressed his mouth against hers in a quick, cold, wet kiss. She pressed her lips together and tried to turn away. With her head pulled back and her scalp on fire, she couldn’t see anything that could be used as a weapon. She did a quick mental image of the room.

  Her hand gripped the counter, then flew over the surface, coming to rest on a coffee mug. For once, Harlan hadn’t been the sitcom mom and had left it for later. In one quick motion, she swung the mug toward Babic’s head and connected hard. He grunted once then let her go.

  With her heart beating out of her throat, Sophie skirted sideways to the knife block and hoped like hell that Harlan had patiently stacked the knives in the block instead of throwing them in a drawer like she did. Her hand wrapped around a handle. A scream in her chest died when two hands gripped her throat, hard. The knife clattered to the ground.

  “Maybe I should take what is mine, now.” One hand moved to the front of her jeans and yanked down her fly.

  Oh God, no.

  Huge black spots appeared in front of her eyes. Struggling to breathe, she kicked backward, her heavy boot connecting with bone. The fingers on her throat loosened.

  “Sophie. Get down!”

  Sophie dropped to the ground in a crouch, blood roaring through her veins the only sound as she gasped for breath.

  There was a thud, then Babic collapsed to the floor.

  She pulled cable ties from where she kept four that lined her bra, stumbled to Babic and restrained him, grunting when she pulled the last tie into place. She looked down at the object lying by his head and blinked in surprise.

  Harlan walked to her side, staring down at Babic, and grinned. “Watching you hog-tie a man gets me hard.” His face darkened when he looked at her neck. “Should have killed the fucker.”

  Harlan’s unmistakable scent threatened to undo her, but she regrouped. She hauled Babic into a sitting position, who opened one eye and snarled at her. She pulled the cable tie tighter until Babic hissed.

  Sophie bent and picked up the snow globe. Antarctic penguins lay abandoned on silvery tinsel. The door of the cabinet that held the globes was thrown open.

  Harlan glanced down at the snow globe. “Sorry about that.” Harlan scratched his head. “Not a bad idea, though, collecting these things from the places we visit together.”

  She stilled.

  He walked toward her, his eyes never leaving her face. “Us in Kona, you in a bikini, me rubbing oil everywhere.”

  Her nipples tightened.

  “A log cabin in the Rockies in winter. Snow. A roaring fire. You naked.”

  “You’d walk into a shop that sells snow globes and not expire?” she asked. Her mouth and her brain needed a sit-down to clarify that the topic of Harlan Franco was banned.

  He held up his hands. “Can’t promise anything, could lose my man card, though.” He frowned. “I’ve got to get this shit off. It’s a wonder I haven’t combusted on the spot.” He ripped the Chiefs shirt from his body. “Thank Christ.”

  She stared at a line of cursive lettering under his heart.

  Oh my God.

  Her hand flew to her throat. At her expression he touched the new line of ink.

  “Told you I had nothing worthy to ink on my body.” He paused. “Until you.”

  Sophie stared at her name, her face slack.

  Harlan enveloped her in a hug. “I love you,” he murmured against her ear. “Love you more than I thought I could love another person.” He paused. “I’m committed to us, which is why your name is inked on my heart forever.”

  She laid her head against his chest, choked with a mixture of longing and confusion, falling deeper into this complicated man.

  “I thought you didn’t do that level of commitment.”

  He cupped her chin with one hand and angled her face toward his. “For you, I do.”

  Pongo waddled over, sat beside Babic, and proceeded to let out a string of nerve-agent farts.

  “Good boy,” she whispered as Harlan shuffled them out of the way.

  “You promise to let me take charge of every situation?” Harlan said.

  She went to pull back, but his fingers flexed against her head. “No.”

  “Good.”

  He rested his forehead against hers.

  “I’ll probably fuck up. I’ve never had this, never wa
nted this, but I need this. Need us.”

  Sophie stood on a precipice. She could walk away and lead the safe life she’d always craved with a man who’d guard her heart and who’d she come to cherish. Or, she could go toe-to-toe with this exhausting man every day. A man who made her feel more than she ever thought she’d feel.

  “Sophie?”

  She looked into Harlan’s tortured face and opened her mouth.

  Epilogue

  Six weeks later

  Gemma poured margarita into Sophie’s glass, Annie beside her. They sat outside in Sophie’s courtyard, at one of the two newly varnished hardwood tables. Hurricane lamps sat in even rows. Fairy lights strung through trees made silvery shadows across the ground.

  Thursday night at Titus’s now included Gemma, Annie, and most of Harlan’s crew. Pipe had made a fifteen-minute appearance, eaten a sausage, then left. Much to Sophie’s delight, Beth and her husband, Robert, walked through the front door, Danielle beside them, cradling Hannah.

  “I’ll be back.” Sophie put down her glass.

  Danielle walked straight to Sophie and hugged her. “Thank you.” Hannah gurgled on her shoulder.

  “Nice to see you.” She squeezed Danielle’s hand, her vision blurry.

  “Look at us crying like we’re watching a Nicholas Sparks movie.” Beth joined in the hug.

  Titus, along with Petrov and Clarence, manned the brand-spanking-new barbecue. DeMilo and his mother and sister played with Pongo. The scent of chicken, burgers, and crisp salad filled the warm air.

  Petrov turned and grinned, holding a sausage in a tong.

  Sophie smiled back.

  Petrov was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. Sophie didn’t think a backyard barbecue would be up his alley, but he loved “Backyard Thursday.”

  He came around for dinner at least once a week as they got to know each other. Sophie had made it clear from the beginning that she didn’t want his wealth, just wanted a father and daughter relationship. She’d been firm that Harlan was in her life, and he’d smiled at her and said “good,” because he didn’t want anything to do with a clusterfuck.