The Honeybun Hunks:
Life, Liberty, and Pursuit of a Honeybun
By
Sam Cheever
Dedication
I’d like to acknowledge the invaluable help of Melissa Glisan in crafting key parts of this story. Melissa is not only an excellent writer, but she is also an engineering genius. Thanks Melissa, you’re the best!
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Life, Liberty, and Pursuit of a Honeybun by Sam Cheever
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Copyright© 2009 Sam Cheever
ISBN: 978-1-60435-500-0
Cover Artist: Shirley Burnett
Editor: Bernadette Smith
Line Editor: Jami Hodo
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Due to copyright laws you cannot trade, sell or give any ebooks away.
This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.
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Life, Liberty, and Pursuit of a Honeybun
By
Sam Cheever
Chapter One
Alfric Honeybun tipped the expensive crystal glass and let a trickle of amber liquid slide down his throat. The Champaign bubbles tickled his nose and he sniffed, his intense blue gaze sweeping the crowded room as he’d done hundreds of times already, stopping again on the couple dancing in the center of the room.
The man was average height, elegant, and pale skinned, with white blond hair that fell in stylishly messy clumps over his high forehead into his pale green eyes. He moved like a dancer, with an almost effeminate grace. He was dressed all in white, down to the fancy silk socks Alfric could see below the sharp hem of his tuxedo slacks.
The woman was…magnificent. She was about five feet eight inches tall with milky brown skin. She had a strong build, not bulky but well toned. His dark blue gaze assessed her carefully as she danced. She looked as if she’d grown up on a ballroom dance floor—agile, confident, and graceful. As Alfric watched, the woman threw back her head, the long, silky strands of her black hair swinging from a Grecian ponytail, and laughed heartily at something the man said.
Alfric frowned. He wished she’d walk away from his mark. She was an obstacle. A very pleasant obstacle…easy on the eyes and senses…but an obstacle nonetheless. As long as Raia danced with her he wouldn’t make contact with the person Alfric was there to track.
And it was vitally important for Jon-Luc Raia to make that contact. The man seriously needed to be put out of business.
Finally, a man entered the ballroom and headed for Raia. Alfric straightened and set his glass down on a nearby table. He lifted his hand to his face, rubbing it over his mouth as he spoke into the microphone on his wristwatch. “This is it. Raia’s lieutenant is heading across the dance floor toward him.”
Raia’s man approached the wealthy French businessman and leaned close, speaking into his boss’s ear. Raia stopped dancing but kept his hands on the woman.
Appearing disinterested, Raia’s dance partner glanced around the room, no doubt enjoying the breather from the hours of dancing she’d indulged in with his target.
Alfric forced his eyes away from the beautiful young woman and started moving toward Raia. He watched as Raia finally dropped the woman’s hands with a nod and a smile, and turned away to speak to his lieutenant, obviously not wanting the woman to hear what he was saying.
Alfric scratched his face, bringing his watch to mouth level again. “He’s giving the lieutenant orders. Wilkie, I want you to follow him when he leaves. I’ll stay on Raia.”
The tiny receiver in Alfric’s ear chirped, followed by Wilkie’s voice. “On it.”
Raia’s second in command straightened away from his boss and nodded, turning to leave the dance floor with rapid steps. Alfric saw the bartender across the room scoop his tips off the counter and follow.
Shaking his head, Alfric chuckled. Leave it to Wilkie to make sure he took his tips with him. As Alfric headed toward the couple on the dance floor, Raia reclaimed his pretty partner’s hands and leaned close, nuzzling the woman’s slender, milk chocolate neck with a smile.
She laughed again, tilting her head to give him better access.
Alfric stopped dead just at the edge of the dance floor. What the? Realizing suddenly that the target wasn’t moving and he was exposed standing there, Alfric turned away, quickly losing himself in the crowd.
His mind whirled. Had the meet been postponed? All of the intelligence they’d received to date pointed to Raia meeting with the group that night, at the party. What the hell was going on?
Then Alfric saw Raia hand his pretty dance partner a small, white slip of paper and his pulse picked up. His eyes widened and he lifted his wrist to his mouth. “Holy shit! It’s her, the woman he’s been dancing with all night, she’s the contact.”
Alfric took off toward the couple on the dance floor again, counting on his agents to close in as required and take his back. But, glancing around, he didn’t see any of his agents moving, and to make matters worse, he suddenly realized that several pairs of intense, hostile eyes were focused on him.
Raia’s men had spotted him. And they were moving in.
The tiny receiver in his ear canal chirped. “Get the hell out of there, Honeybun, we’re locked in a service elevator and Raia’s men have made you.”
“Shit!” He turned just as two extremely large men pushed away from the nearest wall and started in his direction. “Where are you, I’ll come get you out.”
“We’re working on it. Just get yourself out. We’ll meet you at Rubber Duckie Central. We’ll regroup there.”
Alfric made a sudden decision. Shaking his head he lifted his wrist again. “I’m going to get the girl.”
“Honeybun, no!”
Alfric ignored the voice of his fellow agent and headed directly toward Raia, still moving elegantly around the dance floor with the beautiful young woman.
As Alfric’s expensive black dress shoes stepped onto the dance floor Raia’s head turned in his direction. The man’s penetrating green gaze locked on Alfric and narrowed. Then, incredibly, he smiled.
That was all the warning Alfric needed.
Without turning, Alfric picked up the pace, heading toward two young women who were dancing together. He reached them just as a large hand closed over his arm.
“May I?’ He grabbed the first young girl’s hand and spun her into his arms, knocking the thug who’d been reaching for him back and making her gasp and giggle, her steps faltering with surprise. “You look lovely tonight,” Alfric told the plump young woman. Her flawless cheeks pinked with pleasure and she dropped her eyelashes as she said, “Thank you, kind sir,” with a truly
endearing lisp.
Alfric spun her dramatically around the floor, whirling her in a perfect circle around her friend, who circled with them, laughing and clapping her hands in delight. Seeing his opportunity, Alfric spun his partner out of his arms, sending her whirling toward the thug who waited to grab him.
The man took her like a cannon ball to the mid-section with an audible, “Ummpph!” and she grabbed his outstretched hands, pulling him into the waltz. Alfric grinned at the black-eyed thug and grabbed the second girl’s hand, spinning her into the waltz with a flair that many a man in the ballroom envied.
Alfric glanced back over his shoulder as he moved his young partner in ever widening circles that were quickly bringing him into Raia’s sphere.
His gaze locked with the wealthy Frenchman’s and Alfric gave him a small nod.
Raia bent close to his dancing partner and whispered something in her ear. Her head shot up and her long lashed gaze flew toward him. Alfric’s heart stuttered in his chest. The beautiful black woman had the most startling, clear blue eyes. And they were very obviously filled with fear as they fixed on him.
Before he had time to wonder why, the mystery woman was turning away and running into the crowd.
With a curse, Alfric dropped his young partner’s hands and took off after her.
Pleasance Roberts flew down the hallway toward the ladies room, glancing over her shoulder as she ran. As she reached it, the bathroom door opened and she ran headlong into a tall, heavy-set woman dressed in overstretched silk and way too many diamonds.
Pleasance hit the woman’s well-padded chest and belly and bounced backward with an undignified “Umph!” landing hard on her backside on the priceless Oriental rug. The woman peered down at her, glaring. “You’re in big girl clothes, dear, why don’t you act like it?”
Pleasance barely resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the woman. Climbing to her feet, not an easy task in the thin column of a dress she wore, she grabbed the bathroom door and turned for a last look down the hallway to see if the handsome red haired man was still chasing her. He rounded the corner at a full gallop, spotting her immediately. Pleasance gave a little chirp of alarm and plunged through the door.
She heard an outraged cry and a thump as the woman she’d run into outside apparently got run down by the red haired guy too.
The woman’s big girl clothes didn’t appear to be buying her much in the way of dignity.
Pleasance’s eyes frantically searched the large, well-appointed bathroom. The door she was looking for was on the far side, just behind a short privacy wall. She took off running again and squealed as her ankle gave out and she fell painfully to her knees.
Damned shoes. She pulled off the expensive shoes with the skinny three inch heels and started running again, barefoot. She grabbed the handle of the heavy wood door and pulled inward, entering a cool, dark room with the softest, thickest carpeting she’d ever experienced. Turning, she flipped the flimsy lock on the door.
It wouldn’t hold her pursuer for long, but with any luck it would hold him long enough for her to get to her car.
She ran toward the patio doors on the opposite wall. As she reached them, she heard something large hit the other side of the bathroom door. Hard. And then a deep male voice yelling, “Shit!”
Pleasance smiled. “See ya later handsome,” she muttered.
Pleasance let herself out onto the softly lit patio, and made her way across the lawn to the front of the huge home. Her car was waiting for her at the curb, just as Jon-Luc had promised it would be, its finely made German engine purring softly as she leapt inside.
Pleasance strapped on her seatbelt and found the pedals with her feet, grabbing the gearshift and preparing to leave. She jumped as Qamra Tamarat’s dark, coldly passive face suddenly appeared in her side window. “Mr. Raia will be in touch.”
She nodded, barely containing a shudder at the dead quality of the man’s eyes, and pressed hard on the gas, releasing the clutch with practiced precision. She left the circular drive in front of the Raia mansion with a squeal that made her wince and moved out onto the narrow, winding road that led away from Jon-Luc’s remote estate. The sleek car took the tight turns and low, rolling hills of the mostly uninhabited road with ease. Pleasance worked the clutch and gears of the Mazda RX8 like someone who’d cut her teeth on high-powered cars. She didn’t slow until she was several miles away from Jon-Luc’s vast property—several miles between her and the pretty, red-haired man who’d wanted to hurt her.
Somehow it didn’t feel like enough distance.
Chapter Two
Alfric flew through the gears on his black H2 and swore. He lifted his wrist to his mouth. “I can’t be far behind her. I’ll find her. Have you wrapped up Raia and his goons?”
Wilkie’s voice came clear as a bell from the tiny but powerful radio on Alfric’s wristband. “Sorry, Honeybun.”
Alfric swore again. The Hummer roared to the top of a long hill and Alfric saw a flash of red on the road far below. He swung around a hairpin curve and accelerated into the downward slide of road, trying to keep her in his sights. “I’m going no radio for a while. I need to concentrate on driving. I’ll let you know when I catch up with her.”
“That’s affirmative.”
Alfric put both hands on the wheel and pressed the gas. The H2 took the next hairpin on the outside edges of its tires, but it never let go of the road. Alfric’s eyes swept the valley below until he found the tiny red speck again.
“Gotcha, beautiful!”
Unfortunately she was out of the hills and would be able to make much better time than he could. He gunned it and almost fell off the hill on the next tight turn. But Alfric Honeybun was a maestro behind the wheel of the specially tricked out H2 and he had years of dangerous driving under his belt.
He finally left the hills behind and pulled onto a straight, flat highway that cut the horizon into the black night with a straight row of cat’s eyes and not much else.
The little red car was nowhere to be seen.
Alfric gunned it and ate up the miles under the H2’s powerful engine at the rate of around a hundred miles an hour. Within seconds, he figured he should have had her in his sights. But the highway in front of him stayed empty. That’s when he realized she must have pulled off to wait for him to pass or turned and gone the other way at some point.
“Shit!” Alfric slammed the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. A few extra pairs of eyes suddenly appeared ahead of him and his headlights illuminated a family of Coyotes standing in the middle of the highway.
Alfric’s training told him he should just plow them down and keep going. What he was doing was vastly more important than a couple of baby Coyotes.
But the Honeybun in him wouldn’t let him do it.
He slammed on the brakes and the H2 dug into the slightly damp pavement with a squeal, its back end swinging slightly, threatening to tail out on him. Alfric gritted his teeth and held the wheel. “Come on baby, you can do it.”
The H2 held for a few seconds. But momentum finally won out over great engineering and the back end of the SUV swung around so that the big car was skating sideways down the highway. Alfric turned the wheel in an attempt to bring the car all the way around and stop its forward momentum, but the back tires fell off the smooth pavement and hit gravel and the H2 started to spin out of control.
He fought the wheel with sweaty hands, watching the very surprised faces of the Coyotes as he spun past them, and then he felt the tires hit the trench beyond the shoulder of the road and the momentum of the car carried it over onto its top…then its side…then momentarily back onto its wheels…then onto its other side…and then back onto its top again, where it finally stayed as it began the long slide to a stop.
Unfortunately, it looked like the thing that would eventually stop it was the biggest tree Alfric had ever seen. He watched the enormous tree trunk heading for him and couldn’t do a thing about it.
Except grip th
e wheel and pray the airbags released as they should.
As the H2 plowed into the enormous tree, Alfric’s body was pummeled on two sides by something that felt almost as hard as the tree.
Good bags.
The big car creased unnaturally as the front end wrapped the huge tree in a twisted metal hug. The back end lifted upon impact and then dropped back to the ground with a thud. As the dying car creaked and groaned and spit liquid all around him, Alfric tried to form a coherent thought. But the edges of his mind were already folding toward unconsciousness.
The last thing he heard before he dropped into velvet blackness was his mother’s voice in his head. “You did the right thing, Alfric.”
“I know, mom,” he whispered.
And then the world faded painfully to black.
Pleasance leaned down and glanced in the window. She gasped as she saw the familiar head of red hair and almost stepped away. Fighting the urge to run, Pleasance reached in and placed her hand in front of the man’s nose. Soft puffs of air fluttered against her hand.
“Still alive,” she muttered. Pleasance glanced longingly back at her car, which was idling quietly beside the road. She briefly considered leaving him where he was and getting the hell out of there. But the smell of gasoline worried her. She looked at the steam pouring out of the battered front end and bit her lip. It would only take one spark and the handsome man hanging upside down behind the wheel of the H2 would become a human toastie.
“He wanted to hurt me,” Pleasance reminded herself. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she let him die a fiery death.
Sighing, Pleasance reached for the handle of the door, expecting it to be wedged shut, and was surprised to find it unlocked and wedge-free. With a little muscle she was able to pull the door wide.
She realized suddenly that she would have to reach over the seemingly unconscious man to release his seatbelt.
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