by Kim Fox
“You’d prefer a fancy stagecoach?” she said, looking at him sideways.
“I’d prefer a pumpkin over this thing,” he said.
“Hey!” she complained. “This is Gran Bambino.”
“You named your car?”
“Of course,” she said like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I think all cars should have names.”
“That’s stupid.”
She frowned as she gently pet the dashboard. “Shhhh. You’ll hurt her feelings.”
Ryder chuckled. Of all the people he could get chained to…
At least she wasn’t boring.
“So, you’re a shifter?” she said as she pulled onto the road. “What kind? Deer? Rabbit? Goose?”
Ryder looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. There were two million dollars on the line, no, scratch that, one million dollars on the line thanks to her. He didn’t have time for any of this. Not to mention, the patience for any of this.
There was too much at stake to be fooling around with her. No matter how cute she was.
“Shifters don’t exist,” he said with a careful tone.
“Sure, they don’t,” she said with a wide smile. “But what kind are you?”
He turned to her with a side-eyed glance. “How do you know about shifters?”
“My mother was very wise.”
“Didn’t she teach you not to invite strange men into your car?”
“She might have mentioned that once or twice,” Tempest said as she adjusted her rearview mirror. “I said she was wise. I didn’t say anything about me.”
Ryder laughed. Was he actually enjoying himself? No. Absolutely not.
“So, what are you?” she asked. “You can tell me. I’ll find out eventually.” She tugged on the handcuffs. “I’d liked to know in advance if I’m strapped to a cute little chipmunk or to a raging grizzly bear.”
Ryder was silent for a moment. She did have a point. They were going to get nice and familiar over the next few days.
“Lion shifter.”
She swallowed hard as she stared down the empty dirt road, her eyes widening comically large. “Oh. Cool.”
It didn’t look like she found the idea of being strapped to a full-grown lion ‘cool.’
“Don’t worry,” he said in a reassuring voice. “He’s well trained and wouldn’t hurt you.”
She nodded a little too vigorously as she gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white.
“Does he have lots of tattoos as well?”
Ryder laughed. “Not that I know of.”
They chatted as they drove and Ryder found himself loosening up around her. She talked way too much and she was always asking the most ridiculous questions, but the time seemed to have flown by because they were already driving through the town of Redemption Creek.
“Oh, I like this,” she said, looking from side to side—basically everywhere but at the road in front of her.
“Watch it!” Ryder said, grabbing the wheel when she came dangerously close to a mailbox.
She swerved around it and then turned to him with her cheeks flushing a light pink. “Just keeping you on your toes, Ryder.”
He grinned as he looked out the window. “You’re definitely doing that, Tempest.”
They rolled by The Slurry Rabbit, the pub in town where Logan and his band liked to play. He saw Lachlan from The Grisly Grizzlies and ducked down low so he wouldn’t be seen in an embarrassing yellow car like Gran Bambino. Ryder was used to driving in embarrassing old cars thanks to his Gramps, but none of them were bright yellow.
“Is that a bar?” she asked, jerking her head to see it and nearly hitting a telephone pole in the process. Luckily, Ryder was there to grab the wheel and correct it. “It’s so cute! Can we go there tonight?”
“No!” Ryder said, feeling frustration bubble up again. “We’re here to work and that’s it. We’re going to do our job and then we’re going to Santa Fe to get these damned cuffs off. We are not friends.”
She frowned as she turned back to the road. “Not with that attitude we’re not.”
They drove through the rest of the town in silence. When they pulled onto the main mountain road that led in the direction of the Clayton Ranch, Ryder finally broke the silence.
“So, are you going to tell me what you are?”
“I’m me. Tempest Kole. Twenty-three years old. Lover of chocolate chip pancakes and namer of cars. Climber of trees, feeder of ducks, and famous bounty hunter, at least I was until you showed up.”
“Are you a witch?”
She smiled wide. “Witches don’t exist.”
“Of course they don’t,” Ryder said. “But are you one of them?”
She shook her head.
“Come on,” he said, not buying it. “I felt how strong you are. And no human is that fast. How did you get like that?”
“With my Bowflex,” she said as she stared forward. “I got it at Walmart. It was half off.”
“You’re impossible,” Ryder said rolling his eyes. He rolled down the window and spent the rest of the drive watching the gorgeous Montana scenery whizzing by while feeling sorry for himself.
How the hell did this happen?
Still, he could curse her all he wanted, but she was the best chance they had of finding Grease. She knew where he was headed and once they regrouped at home and got something to eat, they would go back to wherever he was going to show up and bag his mutant ass in the middle of the night while he was sleeping.
And get their money and save the family ranch.
They had an important opportunity here that they couldn’t afford to blow. If they impressed this new client, it might mean a whole slew of new opportunities for some bad guy catching with some fat bounties attached. This G.H. character had some deep pockets, which the crew desperately needed access to.
“When we go on the job and do this,” Ryder said. “Turn here. You do it our way. Got that?”
She frowned as she turned. “You mean the way that got your friend skewered and allowed Mr. Creepy-Bear-Shifter-Guy to escape? That way?”
Ryder sighed. “Yes. That way.”
“That’s mighty tempting,” she said as she drove up the dirt road to the ranch. “But I think I’ll do it my way. It worked better if you don’t remember. I almost caught him.”
“You can’t pay your bills with almost,” Ryder answered. “Park up there.”
“Oh, wow!” Tempest said when she saw the line of old antique cars. “What’s their names?”
“They don’t have names,” Ryder said dryly.
“You mean I get to name them all?” She looked happier than he had ever seen her.
Ryder was too spent to argue. “Knock yourself out.”
“Oh, goodie!” She had a beautiful smile on her face as she parked her old yellow Buggy beside the slew of old antique cars. “Look at this! I already fit right in with you guys!”
Ryder looked at her and sighed. This was going to be a long week.
“Come on,” she said as she opened the door and jumped out.
She yanked Ryder forward and he grunted as he flew over the driver’s seat, smashing his balls onto the stick shift.
“Ow,” he grunted as pain shot into his stomach, making him nauseous.
“There’s a lot more where that came from,” he mumbled to himself, right before Tempest impatiently yanked him out the rest of the way. As he landed in the dirt, he couldn’t help but think that this whole week would be the equivalent of getting hit in the balls on repeat.
“Let’s go meet my new crew!” Tempest said cheerily.
Ryder groaned. And the week was just starting.
Chapter Five
Tempest
“Wow,” Tempest said as she walked in the back with Ryder. “You luxuriated the shit out of that pool.”
He glanced at her with a funny look. Why did he keep doing that?
“Luxuriated is not a word.”
“It is no
w,” she said as she looked over the stunning backyard with wide eyes. “I just invented it.”
“That’s not how words work.”
“That’s exactly how they work. People invent words and they become words.”
He rolled his eyes for the hundredth time in as many minutes.
Tempest was too distracted to care. It looked like they plucked a five-star resort out of the Caribbean and plopped it down in the middle of the mountains. A huge in-ground pool, a massive tiki hut with—was that a bar under there?—televisions, and speakers and a giant floating flamingo. Tempest was thrilled. She had always wanted to float on one of those.
Luckily, she had her bathing suit in her car. It was stuffed somewhere in her glove compartment, or maybe it was in the back seat under her plant, Mr. Leafy.
“Who is this guy?” she said when she saw the most adorable orange cat lying on the pool chair, looking like a furry pumpkin. She sat beside him and immediately started scratching his belly. Tempest smiled as he rolled over, stretching his plump paws out. She knew that fat cats were the best kind of cats.
“That’s Sloth. He does about as much as the rest of the furniture. Except when…”
He trailed off, looking like he didn’t want to finish the thought.
“Yeah?” she said, coaxing him on.
He exhaled. “Except when any of us turns into our lions. Then, he gets active.”
Tempest laughed. “What does he do?”
“He attacks,” Ryder said with a laugh. “Every time he sees one of our full-grown lions, he rolls off the chair, stumbles over and attacks us. For some reason, he actually thinks he can win.”
“I like him even more now,” Tempest said, smiling up at Ryder as she scratched the kamikaze cat’s belly. He smiled back at her with a real, genuine smile and it made her body tingle.
“Come,” he said, giving the handcuffs a little tug. “I guess you have to meet everyone else.”
The rest of the guys were at the pool bar drinking. A young blond teenager was all fired up, talking loud and fast about the battle with Mr. Creepy-Bear-Shifter-Guy.
“You expect us to believe that, Bryce?” the guy playing with the guitar asked. He was handsome with dark features, dark hair, and a muscular body. His feet were on the bar as he leaned back and strummed a nice tune.
“It’s true!” Bryce said. “I hit him right in the face!”
The big scary guy beside him slapped a heavy hand on his back, making the kid go ‘oomph.’ “I think you accidentally hit him with your purse when he sent you flying to the stars.”
The kid just shook his head.
“You did good, Bryce,” the tall guy with the shaved head said. Once Tempest’s eyes were drawn to him, they stayed there for a long moment. He just commanded that kind of attention with the authoritative way that he spoke and held himself. And he kind of had a resemblance to Ryder. Without the tattoos, of course.
“Look at our boy!” the big guy said with a deep belly laugh when he spotted them walking over.
The tall guy narrowed his eyes on Tempest as they approached. “Okay, this needs some explaining,” he said.
“This needs some alcohol,” Ryder said, pointing to his mouth.
“Make that two,” Tempest said, flashing them a peace sign.
“You want a beer or a girly drink?” the tall guy asked.
She was a kickass bounty hunter who could hold her own in a fight against shifters. She didn’t do girly drinks anymore.
“A beer,” she said in as deep a voice as she could muster.
He poured two beers and slid them in front of the new couple as they sat down at the bar. The bar was in the shape of a square with three sides of barstools out of the water and one side in.
Tempest took one sip of the vile drink and spit half of it back onto the bar, coughing as her eyes watered.
“Want a girly drink?” the tall guy asked with a knowing grin.
She sheepishly slid the beer back. “Yes, please.”
Ryder introduced her to all of the guys and told her their names as Grant fixed her up a pink drink that tasted like strawberries and happiness, mixed with a splash of ‘oh fuck yeah.’
“Okay,” the tall alpha Grant said. “Explain.”
Ryder told them the story—leaving out the parts where he fucked up, of course. Luckily, Tempest was there to correct him.
“Why don’t you just break the chain?” the big guy Mack asked.
Ryder slumped even lower at the bar. Did he have to look so miserable?
“It’s unbreakable. Trust me.”
Mack puffed out his already massive chest as he slid off his bar stool. “Nothing is unbreakable with Mack around.”
He grabbed a hold of the chain and jerked their arms around as he struggled to snap the unsnappable chain. He grunted and pulled until the thick veins pulsed on his flexed arms, but it still didn’t break.
“Yeah, that’s pretty unbreakable,” he said as he walked back to his barstool looking confused.
“She knows where he is,” Ryder said.
Grant perked up behind the bar. “Really.”
“Yup,” Ryder said, slinking down even more. “And she wants half the money to tell us.”
Grant’s brow furrowed. “Really.”
“Not just to tell you,” she said with a frown. “I’m also going to help you catch him.”
“You?” Mack said, unable to contain his insulting laughter. “What are you going to hit him with your purse?”
Tempest clenched her jaw as she reached into her bun and pulled out her red wand. “No,” she said in a tight voice. “I’m going to hit him with this.”
She pointed the wand at him and let it rip. The laughing stopped and Tempest grinned. So, did Ryder. He was liking this too.
Mack levitated a foot off the bar stool as his eyes widened like a cartoon character. Grant and Bryce jumped back a few feet as they stared in shock. Logan tried to move back, but he lost his balance with the guitar and with his feet on the bar, and he flipped backward off the stool and landed on his head.
She held Mack for a little longer in the magic hold, just to make sure that he would give her some respect next time.
He fell to the floor when she released him.
“You’re a witch?” Grant asked, staring at her in shock. “I’ve never met a witch before.”
“I’m not a witch,” she said, tucking the wand back into her bun. “I’m a bounty hunter.”
Mack looked all wobbly as he climbed back onto his bar stool. He chugged the rest of his beer before he said a word. “She has my blessing to come.”
Tempest grinned. She was winning the boys over. Well, most of them…
“Be careful what you wish for,” Ryder said. “You haven’t been stuck in the car with her yet.”
“That’s not nice,” Tempest said with a frown. “You know you’re lucky that your abundance of luxurious pools makes up for your lack of niceness.”
Ryder grinned. “Speaking of which… I’ve been dying for a dip.”
He stood up and started stripping to his boxers. Tempest held her breath as she watched his shirt come off. He had to tear it along the seam just to get his handcuffed arm out. His entire shredded torso was tatted up along with his arms and neck. She had never really been into tattoos before, but on him, they looked sexy.
Too bad they’re wasted on him.
She tried not to look as he slid his pants down, revealing his tight gray boxer briefs, but she couldn’t help but to sneak a few peeks.
“Okay, let me find my bathing suit out of the car,” she said as he shoved his pile of clothes onto the barstool.
He laughed. “In that mess? We’ll be there all day.”
She looked herself up and down. “You don’t expect me to go in like this, do you?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I do.”
“But—”
He leapt into the pool before she could answer, pulling her in with him.
“Conference
call with G.H. in five minutes!” Grant hollered as Tempest changed out of her wet clothes. They both had to cut their shirts along the side and up their sleeve just to get them on and off. Her shirt now had a row of buttons up and down the handcuffed side.
She was in Ryder’s cabin, hiding behind the bathroom door as she tried to change with one hand.
“Hurry up!” Ryder said, tugging the handcuffs. He was waiting on the other side of the door.
“This is harder than it looks,” she said as she wiggled out of her wet bra. “I only have one hand.”
“Then let me come in and make it easier for you.”
She swallowed hard and her nipples hardened just thinking about it.
“I don’t think so,” she said with a new deep huskiness to her voice. She coughed, trying to play it off.
“I don’t want to be late for the call.”
“Then think about that next time you pull me into the pool in my clothes.” The nerve of this guy. To think, she had been attracted to him for one second. One quick, split, fleeting second.
“I just jumped in like I always do,” he said in his frustrating voice. “It’s not my fault that you were attached to me with magic handcuffs.”
“It was your fault,” she snapped as she tried to slide her bra on with one hand. “It is your fault. This is all your fault.”
“Whatever.” She could hear his eyes rolling. “Just hurry up.”
A few minutes later, they were all sitting around a cheap fold-out table in the main cabin that looked like a storefront for their bounty hunter business. It also looked like they hadn’t had any clients show up in a while. The brown plant in the corner looked like its life ended sometime around the finale of Seinfeld.
Grant pushed a button on the telephone and some heavy breathing came through the line. It was either Mr. Deep-Pockets-Client or a pay by the minute sex-line.
“Did you capture him as agreed upon?” the deep voice asked.
Grant swallowed hard. “Not yet, exactly. But we’re still working on it. We have a lead as to his whereabouts.” He glanced at Tempest.
There was a long unhappy pause.