by E A Price
“He’s in his office,” said Frannie, far too cheerfully. Zara figured she was just acting the way she thought a receptionist should.
Frannie was an actress, though apparently roles had been few and far between in the last six months – ever since Stone put Frannie’s last director in traction. To be fair, the guy did hint that Frannie was going to get replaced by someone younger if she didn’t sleep with him and even went so far as to lock her in his office with him until she gave in. That didn’t work; Frannie just shifted into her flamingo and started squawking and flapping at him. Security was called… it was a big mess. Considering all that, Stone’s reaction was quite restrained. However, it meant that other directors were a little wary of hiring her – they didn’t want to risk a visit from a rampaging rhino shifter.
Zara stopped in front of her desk. “You know, if you’re trying to fit in, you might want to lose the smile, and don’t be so helpful. People distrust receptionists who are too helpful – makes them think they’re up to something.”
Frannie smiled ruefully. “I’m actually genuinely happy,” she said, beaming at Zara.
“Oh?”
“Yep. I’ve been feeling nauseous for days, and I thought it was because I allowed Stone to cook for me on our anniversary but, as it turns out…”
Zara braced herself, readying her stock smile and congratulations.
“I’m pregnant!”
Zara whipped out the indulgent smile of someone who liked kids from afar but was nowhere near ready to have anything to do with them personally, “Congratulations!”
“Thanks, I’m thrilled! I mean, it’s going to change what kind of acting jobs I get…” Frannie frowned. “If I do ever get any again.” She shook her head, clearly too happy about this new development to be annoyed at Stone anymore.
“Where’s Stone? Surprised he isn’t fussing over you already.”
“Oh, when he comes round, I’m sure he will,” said Frannie, cheerfully.
There was a moan from behind the desk, and Zara peered over it to find Stone, face down on the floor, drooling slightly.
“Took the news well I see,” chuckled Zara.
“It was a little bit of a shock,” whispered Frannie in an intimate tone. “But I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“Ugh…” came the noise from the bulky man passed out on the floor.
“You need a hand with him or something?” offered Zara, eyeing the enormous male doubtfully. What she would do, she wasn’t sure. Put out cones, so everyone stepped around him?
Frannie shook her head. “I think he’s showing some improvement already. I’ll give him a few more minutes to come round; then I’ll think I’ll tell him were having triplets.” Her eyes sparkled naughtily. Zara nodded in approval.
Marcus came out of his office and eyed the large lump that was Stone. “Is he dead?” he asked dispassionately. Stone moaned, and Marcus shrugged.
“I have an appointment with the doctor,” he said, pulling his jacket on.
Frannie scrunched her nose. “Are you not feeling well?”
He smiled slightly, which was positively a grin for a snake shifter like him. “Ling is having a scan. We’re finding out the sex today.”
“That’s wonderful!” gushed Frannie, and Zara smiled in agreement. Being mushy over babies was something greatly discouraged in her family. Given that her family was made up of all women who saw men as little more than sperm donors, it wasn’t a surprise that they weren’t sentimental creatures. More like ball busters.
“Any new skips?” asked Zara hopefully, changing both the subject and getting to the point of her being there.
Marcus was the bail bondsman. When shifters and witches and vampires had bail set, they called on Marcus to bail them out. They would put up about ten percent of the overall bond – in theory as a way of ensuring they didn’t miss their court date – usually in money but sometimes in other things like cars and property and once, to the female employees’ delights, expensive, designer shoes. But some still ran, and then Marcus called on hunters like Zara to track them down and drag them back to the cops. Otherwise, Marcus would be liable for the whole cost of bail.
In the beginning, Marcus had tracked all the bounties who came across his desk while a witch called Alma managed the office, and on occasion lured said bounties into Marcus’ grip. Now, the business had grown, and there were many more hunters working, including Zara and Stone.
“Just one,” admitted Marcus, and there was an unusual wince on his face as he said it, almost like he didn’t want to tell her.
“Can I have it?” she asked cautiously.
“Not sure it’s for you. I thought Stone could take this one.”
Zara raised an eyebrow. She’d been working there for a while now and had never lost a skip. Mostly she went after the female skips, and the petty criminals, but whatever it was, she could handle it. Plus, she really needed to be able to buy food and stuff like that – the stuff she needed to live.
“Stone’s in no position to do anything right now,” said Zara feeling a teeny, tiny bit affronted.
Frannie toed her mate with her foot, and he let out a rumble but didn’t move.
“Whatever it is, I can handle it,” she said with determination.
Marcus stared at her, and unflinchingly, she stared back until he hissed and gave in. “I don’t have time to argue, just promise me you won’t get yourself hurt.”
“Aww, boss, you care!”
“Yes, I care about the fact that Ling would be exceedingly upset if anything happened to you. Given that she’s pregnant, you better watch your ass.”
“So sweet! I will, I promise.”
He looked mildly irritated before he sighed. “Frannie, give her the file, I’ve got to go.” As if on cue, his phone started ringing – with the theme tune ‘How Sweet it is (to be Loved by You)’. His cheeks turned mildly pink as he answered.
“I’m on my way now, beautiful… oh lord, what did the terrible twosome do now?”
He was out the door within seconds, and Zara turned to Frannie, smiling and with outstretched hands. “Gimme.”
Frannie handed it over and chewed on her bottom lip. “You know, he’s not wrong – this is a pretty bad one. I think Marcus only took it because the other agencies who take on shifters didn’t want it and business was slow last month.”
Zara skimmed through the details. On trial for double murder. Gorilla shifter. Last name Holt… Her heart stuttered.
No. Way.
*
Five months ago
Zara tapped her fingers on the tabletop. Where the heck was he? Her date, Milton went to the bathroom fifteen minutes ago and still hadn’t resurfaced. She considered maybe that he had decided he didn’t like the look of her and had run away, but his jacket was still on the back of his chair.
She sighed and rested her elbow on the table, cupping her cheek in the palm of her hand. Going on this date had been a bad idea from the start. But her friend, Carly had insisted, and while Carly looked like a cute fox shifter, she was actually nuttier than a jar of chunky peanut butter. How Carly knew this guy was anyone’s guess – they seemed like total opposites.
Zara knew this wasn’t going to lead anywhere. Maybe it was the fact that he played with model trains, wore a bow tie, or perhaps that he only ate white colored food. Or perhaps it was just that he wasn’t a certain gorilla shifter who would not get out of her thoughts.
Yep. The main reason she was even trying to date was to forget that asshole. Except it wasn’t that easy. In spite of what happened, she still couldn’t get him out of her head. Still couldn’t forget the way his lips had caressed hers, the way his hand gripped her leg, cupping it as he opened her to him and plunged inside her…
“Ugh!”
She startled the diners next to her as she let out a loud groan and threw down her napkin, stomping towards the bathroom.
“Didn’t even want to come on this date,” she muttered to herself as she made her way into the men’s bat
hroom. “Not getting stood up by a guy I don’t even like.”
A couple of males coming out gave her a funny look, and she completely ignored them. That was the thing about being a bounty hunter – she felt confident going anywhere. She had to. She couldn’t lose a bounty just because he said he had to pee – of course he’d be out the window in no time flat!
Zara readied herself to howl out Milton’s name when both her brain and her heart stuttered. Holt. He was washing his hands and caught sight of her in the mirror, flashing her a friendly enough smile.
She had an urge to smile back at him, to bask in the warmth of his expression and make it last forever… then she remembered the way he had looked at her the last time they met and that urge shriveled in its tracks.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed.
Holt shrugged his massive, rippling, impressive shoulders. A part of her far south twinged and Zara pressed her fingernails into her palms.
“Washing my hands, cuddle muffin. Just took a leak.”
“Not here in the bathroom,” she snapped. “Here at the restaurant.”
He shrugged again, and the muscles moved like a tidal wave. The fingernails pressed further into her flesh. If she weren’t in pain, she wasn’t sure she would be able to resist the urge to hop on over to him and press her hands against his chest, to feel those muscles beneath her fingers.
“Getting something to eat, pumpkin.”
He turned around and gave her an intense, almost accusing look. “What are you doing here?”
For a second, under that look, she actually felt guilty. That was before righteous indignation muscled its way in and told her not to be so silly.
“That’s none of your business,” she replied waspishly.
“On a date, cupcake?” he asked crisply, his eyes darkening even more.
Zara was about to blast him with the full heat of her anger when a young man slipped out of one of the stalls, giving them both curious looks. She smiled in apology. The young man ignored her and quickly left the bathroom.
“Hey, wash your hands, young man!” she called after him.
Holt chuckled and leaned against the basin, folding his arms and watching her with interest.
“Hey, wait a second…” She dropped to the ground and peeked under the stalls, looking for feet. With the boy gone, she and Holt were the only ones in the bathroom. Which meant Milton was gone.
She jumped back up and glared at Holt. “You didn’t… did you?”
“Did I what?” he asked far too innocently.
“You got rid of my date, didn’t you?”
“So you are on a date?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “I was, apparently not anymore.”
“Guy didn’t deserve you, princess. You can do much better.”
Zara snorted. “It was a blind date. Given how terrible my own taste in men is,” she said pointedly, “I figured it was a better idea to let someone else do the picking. Did you do or say something to make him leave?” He stared at her for a few moments. “Did you?”
Someone behind her cleared his throat. She turned to find a waiter giving her an awkward smile. “Ahem, women really aren’t supposed to be in here, people have been complaining.”
“Humph. You mean the guy who just ran out of here? Yeah, I’d like to complain about the fact that he didn’t wash his hands. It should be mandatory.”
“Please, Miss, if you’d just like to step outside…” He reached out to take her arm but froze at the primal grunt that escaped Holt’s mouth.
“Don’t touch her,” rumbled Holt, his relaxed demeanor at odds with the menace in his voice.
“I was just…”
Holt pushed away from the basin and slowly moved towards the waiter. “Don’t. Touch. Her.”
He oozed with the promise of violence and hell if it wasn’t dangerously sexy. Zara had to bite her lip to stop a whimper escaping. He was strong and protective and everything a mate should be. Except that he dumped her unceremoniously and was apparently boffing some young twenty-one-year-old.
“Neither of you touch me,” she warned. “Don’t worry; I’m leaving. You,” she pointed at Holt, “stay away from me and my dates, and you,” she pointed to the waiter, “ah, umm, put up a sign or something telling people to wash their hands.”
With that, Zara stomped out of there with as much dignity as she could muster. Which, given that she had just been dumped by a guy called Milton who wears bow ties, wasn’t much. But honestly, that didn’t bother her half as much as the fact that the complete dickwad who broke her humiliated heart a month ago was apparently still trying to make her life even worse. Not to mention that her lust for him hadn’t dipped one iota. No, if anything, the dreams she had enjoyed about him over the past month had just made her attraction even worse.
“Lousy, stupid, gorilla!” she grumbled making her way to the exit. Well, that was it. Now, there was no way she was going to have anything to do with him. Period.
*
Present day
Zara flicked to the details and felt a small amount of disappointment as she realized it wasn’t actually Holt – her Holt, Angus Holt. It was his brother, Sean Holt.
Huh. Surprised she didn’t see anything in the news about it.
A bit of a letdown, but he was the next best thing. If she couldn’t get her own back by hunting down and dragging Holt to the cops, she would do it to his brother.
Was she really that petty? You bet your sweet ass!
Chapter Two
Zara peered around Sean Holt’s messy apartment. It was a world away from Holt’s pristine place. She pressed her lips together. Perhaps that should have been a giveaway - the fact that it was clean and that the bedroom was decorated in pink and frills. Clearly a woman was living there, but Zara had been too blinded by delusional lust to think what it meant at the time.
Sean wasn’t there, and if the congealing dishes in the sink and the large space in his closet were anything to go by, he hadn’t been there in at least a few days. Not surprising. Still, she had to start somewhere, so she got her lock picking tools and picked her way in.
Few of her skips ever just waited at home for their bounty hunter to show up and turn them in. Well, a few did but they had other problems. She had a somewhat regular client in an elderly flasher called Mrs. Ellways. The older woman just enjoyed the attention that flashing got her, and she enjoyed Zara’s visits to pick her up. Her grandchildren never visited so Zara was the next best thing.
Zara picked through the piles of clothing, pleased that she had remembered a pair of plastic gloves, and gathered a few items that looked relatively clean. She needed a few garments in case she wanted to cast any finder spells. They were hit and miss, but sometimes paid off. Hair was quite good for those kinds of spells, but after getting a look at his bathroom, she wasn’t willing to go in there a second time. Hey, she was a bit of tomboy, and she wouldn’t say she was squeamish, but even she had her limits.
Her eyes alighted on a framed photo, half covered by a discarded t-shirt. She plucked the shirt away and picked up the frame, staring at the two little boys grinning at the camera. Holt and Sean aged eight and four by the look of it. Lord he was insufferably cute as a child, and Holt’s smile had barely changed in nearly thirty years - still cheeky and still adorable. Her lips automatically curled up and she felt a fuzziness growing inside her. Did the little boys in the photo know what dicks they’d be when they grew up?
She replaced the photo and tried to wipe it from her memory. Remember the look on his face when he was telling you to get out of his apartment, and when his girlfriend or whoever the hell she was told you to leave. Yep, that was all she needed for motivation.
*
Four months ago
“You need to stop!” howled Zara.
Holt paused in the process of adding sweetener to his coffee before a telltale smile spread over his face. “Stop what?”
The rest of the coffee shop patrons stopped what th
ey were doing to watch in interest. Finding Holt had not been hard. He pretty much frequented the coffee shop every day. He wasn’t an early riser. Given that he was part owner of the strip club meant that he usually worked late and got up late. When he did, he usually went to the gym and afterward the coffee shop next door. Not that Zara was following him or anything. Nope, she just happened to spot him doing that once or twice or perhaps five times.
Zara pursed her lips to stop the scream that wanted to erupt from getting out. “You need to stop scaring my dates away.”
Yep, Milton had not been a fluke. Two more blind dates running away in the middle of dinner since her night with Milton had proved that she was an absolutely horrifying dinner companion, or someone else was screwing with her. Her first thought had been Holt. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure it was him, because as far as she could see, he had no motive. But accusing him had no downside. Either it was him, and she gave him the telling off he deserved, or it wasn’t him, and she just succeeded in ruining his day – win-win.
“I have no idea what you mean,” he said, not losing one iota of his smugness. “Can I get you a coffee or tea maybe?”
“You said something to scare them away from me!”
“Nope. How about a muffin.” He pointed to his own plate. “I like the blueberry.”
“Yes, you did, you butthole! If you’re not careful, I’m gonna put a curse on you!” It was about the only threat she had in her arsenal. Physically, it looked like it would hurt her more if she slapped him.
Something flickered over his expression, but he remained stoic in the face of her fury.
Okay, so she wouldn’t put a curse on anyone. Except for that one time in high school when that cow face Marley Shelton spread vicious rumors about Zara’s best friend having gills. Okay, so she wouldn’t put a curse on anyone unless they really deserved it.
Zara leaned down, bringing her face close to his. Holt’s chest inflated slightly, and he let out a low noise. She would make this quick. Being this close to him was not good for her. It made her want to do all sorts of stupid things like kiss him and lick him and beg him to be her boyfriend… or at least her sex slave for an afternoon.
