by Bella Jewel
I have a snippet from Raide’s story, Hard To Fight, which can now be pre-ordered on Amazon. The links are below. Enjoy!
Pre order here HARD TO FIGHT - BELLA JEWEL
And here’s a sneak peek!
Prologue
My boots crunch on the rocks as I slink down a deserted alleyway. It’s dark; it smells of stale urine and garbage, the sound of water dripping is the only sound that can be heard in the eerie silence. Even through that, I know he’s here. He heard me call. I listen to the loud, thumping sounds of his feet scurrying across the not-so-quiet gravel. He wants me to walk in here, into the darkest parts of the alley. I’m not that stupid.
I suck in a breath of air and use my loudest voice to call, “You come out, or I’ll make you come out. It’s your choice.”
Silence.
“I have a gun, or a tazer, if you’d prefer.”
The sounds of shifting feet.
“One.”
A footstep.
“Two.”
Another footstep.
“Three.”
“Please, missy,” he cries, leaping out of the darkness and throwing his wrinkled hands in the air. He’s not wearing any pants, just a pair of old, ragged underwear that have seen better days. I’ll never be able to scrub that image from my mind. His stark white legs tremble as his eyes dart about the empty space.
I take a moment to truly stare at him. Good lord. I actually feel sorry for this one. It’s quite clear he has very little mental capacity and isn’t really a threat to anyone, except for maybe himself. To say I’m wasting good time bringing him in would be an understatement. I take a step forward, the old man’s eyes narrow and he continues to wave his hands about, as if making it clear that he doesn’t want me to come closer.
He doesn’t get a choice.
“I have to take you in, Cole,” I say in a steady voice.
“My name isn’t Cole,” he tries, jerking his chin out.
My eyes drop to his shirt, where his name is clearly stitched in. “It’s on your shirt,” I say, fighting back a smile as I lift my gaze back to him.
“Found this, I did,” he nods, as if his story is going to be completely believable. “It’s not mine.”
“Cole,” I say, calmly. “I’ve read your profile and seen your picture. I know it’s you. Now, you can come with me quietly or I can use force, please don’t make me use force because I got my nails done yesterday and I really, really don’t want to ruin them.”
He crosses his arms defiantly, and his wispy white hair blows about in the breeze. He narrows his ice blue eyes and studies me. “You’re a girl.”
He says it as though he has only just figured out this little nugget of information.
“Well done for that observation,” I congratulate sarcastically, crossing my arms.
“No girl is a Bounty Hunter.”
I snort, taking a finger and jabbing it to my chest. “This girl is.”
He stares at me again, and then a smile spreads across his face, revealing a mouth containing no teeth. It’s not a wonder the man whistles when he speaks. Yuck. I watch in fascination as his eyes flick to the thick trees over on our left, and then to the old brick building to our right and he yells, “You can come out now.”
I blink and stare around, wondering if this old man has lost his marbles because I have no idea who he is talking to.
“Cole,” I begin, but he cuts me off by jerking his hand up.
“This isn’t funny,” he calls. “You nearly got me, too.”
Great, the old man is a nut case.
“Cole,” I try again.
“Lady,” he hisses. “Don’t ruin this moment for me.”
Moment? What moment?
Crossing my arms, I warn, “I’m going to go ahead and give you thirty seconds before I take you down and cuff you.”
He waves a hand again. “Shh, you’re ruining my moment.”
“What moment?” I cry, throwing my arms up in frustration.
My boss does this on purpose. He gives me the freaking crazy ones because I swear no one else wants them.
“I need to be prepared for the television,” Cole says, licking his hand and running it over his nearly non-existent hair, pinning it to his head. Double yuck. “I don’t want to ruin this.”
Television? What is he going on about?
“Cole, are you using drugs?” I ask, mundanely.
His eyes flash to me. “You’re a good actor. Tell me what show are we on? Pranksters? I always wanted to be on that show.”
Jesus, he thinks this is a prank.
“Cole, I’m a Bounty Hunter, this isn’t a television show and I’m taking you in, let’s go.”
He crosses his arms. “Nice try.”
It’s clear Cole doesn’t believe me. I stare down at my nails wistfully, then sigh and take the plunge. My feet move quickly and I sweep one foot out, connecting with Cole’s legs and taking them out from beneath him. He goes down, almost in slow motion, his arms flailing as he tips backwards. He lands hard, making a loud oomphing sound. I pull out a pair of handcuffs, use my foot to roll him, and jerk his hands behind his back.
“Cole, I wish I didn’t have to do it like this.”
“You knocked my teeth out!” he wails. “You broke my teeth.”
I clasp the handcuffs tightly on his wrists, “Honey,” I murmur, pocketing the key. “You have no teeth.”
“Lies,” he bellows. “This is assault.”
“The car will be here to take you in, shortly.”
He’s silent for a moment, and I actually peer down to see if he’s passed out. Instead, his blue eyes are scanning the trees again. I roll my eyes and put my foot to his back, holding him there. After a long, silent moment he murmurs, “Missy?”
“Yes, Cole?”
“Come down here, a little closer.”
“No,” I say, keeping my foot firmly planted to his back.
“Please,” he begs.
I cross my arms. “If you need to say something, Cole, I’m listening.”
He sighs, mutters a curse and then says in a small voice, “I’d like to borrow your hairbrush.”
Not sure I heard him correctly, I say, “Excuse me?”
“Your hairbrush.”
“My . . . hairbrush?”
He nods.
“Why?”
He grunts. “For the cameras, get with the program!”
Jeeze Louise, this man is off his rocker.
“We’re not on a television program, Cole.”
“Is my shirt tucked in?”
God. Please give me strength. He’s not even wearing pants.
“Cole, it’s not a damn television program.”
“Such a sad, sad woman,” he murmurs, dropping his head.
I tilt my head to the sky and internally curse my boss.
He’ll pay for this.
Chapter One
“It’s not funny,” I say, throwing my bag down onto my desk.
My colleague and fellow Bounty Hunter, Vance, laughs. He crosses his large arms over his chest and tilts his head to the side, studying me with a smirk. I glare at him, flopping onto my seat and throwing my booted feet onto the desk. Then I proceed to cross my arms, making sure my body language clearly states how pissed off I am.
“Heard good ‘ol Cole was fun for you, Gracie.”
“He made me brush his hair,” I growl, spinning on my chair to face him. I lean forward, putting my elbows to my knees. “Brush. His. Hair. It was the only way I could keep him freaking calm long enough to get him into the car. Do you have any idea what that was like? He doesn’t even have enough hair to brush!”
Vance laughs again, throwing his head back. His long blonde hair flickers about and when his blue eyes meet mine again, they are positively dancing. “You don’t know what I would have done to be there and see that.”
“I have old man hair in my brush!” I cry, throwing my hands up.
“Aw, come on Gracie, it was funny
.”
“It wasn’t funny,” I mutter, shoving away from the desk and standing, tucking my laptop under my armpit. “Ya’ll will never take me seriously.”
Vance stops laughing and reaches out, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Of course we do. We can’t help that you had to bring in a crazy.”
“You knew he was crazy!” I point out, shrugging his hand off my shoulder and walking towards my boss’ door. “I don’t know what you guys think is so funny about it all.”
“But you’re damned cute out there on the job, Gracie Lou.”
“You’ve only seen me a handful of times,” I argue.
“And you’re cute,” he smirks.
I grit my teeth, flip him the bird and knock on Don’s door.
“Yeah?” he calls out.
I swing the door open and step in, staring at my boss. He’s sitting behind his desk, typing on a computer. He looks up when I enter, staring at me over the top of his glasses. He’s middle aged, with salt and pepper hair and dark grey eyes. He’s a great boss, he gave me a chance when no one else would, but he’s also hard to convince that I can handle bigger jobs than men like Cole.
“How did it go with Cole?” he asks.
Did his lips just twitch?
My heart clenches. I’m tired of being made into a joke. He might have taken me on, given me a chance when no one else would, but I don’t believe he truly believes I can be a successful Bounty Hunter.
“You’re never going to take me seriously, are you Don?”
My voice comes out softer than I’d like, sounding tired and generally worn down. Don’s eyes flash, and he looks as though he doesn’t understand why I’d be so upset. Is he really that blind?
“Gracie,” he begins, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.
“Don’t bother. I’ve been here five years, and I’ve worked my ass off trying to prove to you that I’m worth the effort. But you’re never going to believe I’m good enough.” I place the laptop down, then continue. “I’m always going to be the joke, aren’t I?”
Without giving him a chance to answer, I turn and leave the office.
~*~*~*~
The liquid burns my throat as it slides down, hitting my stomach with brutal force and causing my world to spin even more than it already is. I close my eyes, inhaling through my mouth, because I’m fairly sure I’ve got no nose hairs left after breathing in the burning alcohol I’ve been shooting down for the last three hours.
“Another!” My best friend, Kady, yells.
The bartender looks at me, then to her, and shrugs.
“I can’t believe they made me go after a dude that wanted me to brush his freaking nonexistent hair,” I hiccup.
Kady turns to me, flashing that award-winning smile as she leans in close, curling her fingers around my arm. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re bad ass.”
I laugh and fist bump the air. “Bad ass!”
We fall into a fit of laughter, and Kady wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me close. Her voice drops low and she whispers, “I know it’s hard, honey, but one day, you’re going to prove them wrong.”
I lose my smile and even through my drunken haze, there’s an ache in my heart I can’t shake. There’s nothing crueler then when the people you love, don’t believe in you. I not only get it at work, but at home too. My mother and two sisters are beauty queens. So to say they’ve never supported my need to ‘be in a male profession’ is an understatement. My mother is waiting for the day I turn around, throw the towel in and declare my undying love for parades, bikinis and world peace.
My dad, however, is my rock. He believes in me and it wouldn’t matter if I decided cleaning toilets was what I wanted to do. He’s just that kind of dad. The kind of dad all dads should be. The kind that is there for me no matter what and with no questions asked. Without him, I would have never fought so hard to train and get to where I am. He used to sit up with me for hours after every case, letting me talk for as long as I needed to, then, before he kissed me goodnight, he always told me how proud he was. After I moved out of home and rented my own place, I missed those moments.
He always understood my need for it. After all, it was because of him that I chose to become a Bounty Hunter. He was one, and used to spend hours telling me about his job. It was our thing, our bond, when my mother and sisters were out, my dad and I would laugh and chat, and it was then he would tell me stories. I loved it. It wasn’t just that it was different; it was that he was also doing something good. Something amazing. Keeping criminals off the streets. I knew it was what I wanted to do.
I also knew how hard it would be for me to get into. I had to train, I had to pass tests, I had to be Don’s sidekick for eighteen months before I even got a chance to go on the job alone. It wasn’t easy. I spent years proving myself. Still, I fought until I made my dream come true.
“Thank you, Kady,” I smile, hugging my best friend.
Kady and I have known each other since high school, and had an instant connection. She’s as loud and sassy as me, and there are times it feels as though we were separated at birth. We even look similar, with our long raven hair and piercing green eyes. The only real difference is Kady is taller and leaner, and I was struck with the curves.
“I really have to pee,” she says suddenly, and then her grin appears once more.
“Me too,” I admit.
Hooking arms, we leave the bar after shooting the last order of alcohol. We weave through the dancing, grinding bodies until we hit the long halls that lead to the toilet. There are women standing in line, waiting for the bathroom. Kady groans and tugs my arm, yelling in my ear, “Let’s go out back. I used to work here.”
She pulls me down the hall, past the people and through a large metal door at the end. It opens onto a parking lot and sure enough, there are bathrooms nestled in the large brick building running alongside the club. Kady pulls me over and we use the facilities and fix up our make up before stepping back out.
We’re about to enter the club again, when I hear a soft whimper. Narrowing my eyes, I turn and scan the car park. I can’t see anyone, but there’s a distinct sobbing sound coming from somewhere. “Do you hear that?” I ask Kady.
“I do.”
We investigate, and find a girl crouched around the side of the building. She hears our approach and pulls her knees closer to her chest. She’s gorgeous, blonde and looks up at us with mascara stained cheeks.
“Are you okay?” I ask, kneeling down in front of her.
“I’m fine,” she sobs, swiping her nose with the back of her hand.
“Are you sure?” I push. “You look upset.”
Way to point out the obvious, Grace.
She stares at the both of us, and then begins sobbing again. “My boyfriend dumped me!”
“This calls for alcohol,” Kady announces. “I’ll be back.”
She turns and rushes off, and I keep kneeling in front of the girl. “Did this just happen?”
She shakes her head. “Not exactly. We, well, we were sleeping together and he told me to meet him tonight. He never showed up, said he had something pressing to take care of and that maybe I should go and enjoy myself. When I replied, saying I’d wait, he very clearly told me that wasn’t a good idea and he didn’t think it would work between us.”
I curl my lip in disgust. “Pig!”
She nods. “Right?”
“It sounds to me,” I say, placing a hand on her shoulder, “like he isn’t worth it.”
“But he was so. . .” she trails off on another sob. “Wonderful!”
Wonderful? Yeah, so great he left her sitting in a dark alley because he was too lazy to break it off to her face.
“Men like that aren’t wonderful, honey,” I say firmly. “Men like that are weak, pathetic and not worth five seconds of your time.”
“You don’t understand, he was so amazing . . . you know. . .” she leans in close, “in bed. The best I’ve ever had. I thought . . . I thoug
ht it was because we had something special.”
I shake my head, sad for her. “So the man knows how to use his bits. It doesn’t make him prince charming.”
She giggles softly and looks up at me. I smile down at her, and continue. “You know, men like him are cruel, heartless players because they don’t know how to connect with another human being, except physically. It’s somewhat of a disorder. Perhaps he was dropped on his head as a young child, or perhaps his penis is severely undersized and he was forced to get a penis enhancement due to many sexual let downs . . .”
I stop rambling, because the girl has stopped talking and her face has turned red. She’s looking over my shoulder and I grit my teeth.
“He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”
She nods slowly, and I turn, standing.
I actually lose my footing when I set my sights on the man who broke her heart. Holy mother of God! He’s breathtaking. I make a little squeaking sound, steadying my footing as I take in Hercules in front of me. I don’t say this lightly, the man is massive. He’s six foot of solid, thick muscle. His face is that of a dark devil and he’s got these eyes, these amber eyes that are absolutely mind blowing.
His dark hair looks as though he’s done no more than run his fingers through it. It curls down around the base of his neck in waves, and parts of it flop over his forehead. He’s extremely masculine, the beautiful kind. He’s got a jagged scar on his left cheek, but it only seems to add to his edge. His lips are full, his nose just slightly bent as if he’s been in one too many fights. He’s also got this dangerous five o’clock shadow lining his perfectly sculpted jaw and cheeks.
Once again, none of this takes away from his perfection.
I’d be crying if this man dumped me, too.
“Ah,” I say, smiling sheepishly.
“I wasn’t dropped on my head,” he says in a low, husky tone. Oh boy, he’s got a light accent, I don’t know what it is, but it’s hot.
“Ah,” I try again, but he keeps going.
“And I haven’t,” he rasps, leaning in close. “Had a penis enlargement.”
Eeek.
“It’s that big all on its own.”
My mouth drops open and my eyes widen with shock. Did he just? No, surely I didn’t hear him say that, to a complete stranger? Well, so much for being a gorgeous man. He just went from sexy to jerk in about three point five seconds. Okay, he’s still sexy.