by Calinda B
“I’ll remove my hand from your mouth if you promise not to kill me,” he said, as if reading her mind. “Oh, wait. I took your bullets out of the revolver in the glove box. And that tiny pistol under the seat? It’s secure in my pants, along with my huge one.” He chuckled and made a low growl in his throat. The darkly dangerous sound made her panties wet, wet, wet. “I sure hope you have permits to carry, you—the Queen of Rules.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, pissed at herself for being so unaware. “Of course I have permits,” she hissed under her breath.
“So do you promise not to try anything?” His big arm, the one attached to the hand she didn’t want to stop touching her neck, dropped to her chest. It smashed against her breasts, gripping her against the seat.
The painful sensation of her breasts being squashed only stirred her arousal.
“You want to feel how hard I am, woman? Like you wouldn’t believe.” His lips curved into a half smile, laced with seduction.
Again her eyes closed, desire brewing like strong, thick, heady liquor in her body.
“Yeah, baby,” he murmured. “I feel it, too. But. Don’t try anything stupid, got it? Let’s not mess with the mood we’re both in.”
Pushing against his grip, she forced her head up and down as best she could. Still, her mind whirled. I could turn the truck on, lock the doors, and race over to Dead Man’s Cliff, leaping out at the last minute before my Jeep sailed off the cliff. Nah, he’d have sprung himself free, miles before we got there. Okay, I could leap from the truck, yelling, ‘I’ve got Hung!’ Ix-nay to that idea. He’d leap from the truck, and turn into a bat or a snake or a hawk or something. The dude has limitless shape shifter abilities as far as I know. One of the extremely rare. I could…
“Are you done thinking of all the things you could do to get rid of me? Things that will never work? You know me better than that.” He tsked in her ear and rubbed his arm back and forth across her now aching breasts.
Her nipples, swaddled in a bra, woolen undergarments, a sweater, and a down and fake-fur coat, puckered in response. God, I wish I hated him more than I wanted to have sex with him. Again, she pushed her head up and down in assent, realizing the rat bastard was right. She didn’t stand a chance.
“There,” he said, once he’d released her mouth.
She opened and wiggled her jaw, coaxing feeling back into it. “Damn you.”
“If you’d said fuck you, I’d have taken you up on it.” A seductive sneer spread across his handsome face.
“How did you get into my truck in broad daylight?”
He shrugged.
Arrogant asshole. “And how do you know you’re being framed?”
“I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, love, you know that, too. Only thing is…I know the what, but not the who. Who’s trying to frame me?”
“What do I get if I tell you?”
“You’ll live to see another day.”
“You told me you’d never harm me.”
“That’s only partially true. If I had to, as much as it would pain me, I’d off you in a second.” His eyes appeared cold and menacing in the rearview as he spoke, not like the lover’s eyes he’d flashed at her mere seconds ago.
“Not if I killed you first,” she blurted, much to his apparent amusement. She squinted, assessing him, wondering how much truth rang true from his statement. Figuring it an honest sentiment—the guy did, after all, hunt and kill for a living—she winced, her teeth ground together and she spit out, “It’s Red Mountainbear. He’s using Dick Nighthawk to organize their hive of hornets.”
“Those two Native American wannabes?” Hung scoffed. “They shame the tribespeople, what with their assumed last names. You know Red’s given surname is White, right? Randall White ass. And Dick’s? Worthington. Ha! It should be Worthless.”
“I didn’t know that.” Chia rubbed her jaw, still trying to coax it back to life.
“You should hang out with me more often,” he said, smirking.
Sweet baby Jesus, don’t tempt me. “And you should follow the rules! None of this would be happening if you did what you’re supposed to—register, state your business, get your business done and get lost.” She would have crossed her arms if she could have moved them into position and she wasn’t trussed up like Dillon had been this morning. Hung seemed to possess Herculean strength. “That’s one of the rules that keeps Charming safe.”
“More like it keeps it antiquated. These lands were not founded by following stupid arbitrary rules. When I have a job to do, I like to get it done, not pussy foot around signing agreements.”
“Yeah, but that agreement keeps Charming a safe place for all concerned.”
“Said agreement,” Hung said, moving his arm leisurely in a small circle on her plump breasts, “alerts the target, or haven’t you ever thought of that?”
“No,” she stated argumentatively. “Not if it goes through the proper channels. Jack Towne and I are the only two allowed to witness the treaty.”
“And what happens when neither you nor Jack are around?”
“One of us is always around.”
“You weren’t last night,” Hung said, easily.
Chia’s face flamed hot, thinking of what she’d done to Dillon, what Dillon did to her, what they did to each other…
“Yeah. That’s what I thought. Again, I thought you and me shared a special bond.”
“Right, like you never seduce other women?” Chia snapped. Her boobs began to ache, slammed against the seat by Hung’s heavy arm.
“I have to stay in practice somehow.”
A surge of hopeful longing rocked through her. “Practice for whom? Me?” The words slipped out, as if a truth spell had been cast.
“Come, come, Ms. Petit. I don’t need to answer the question for you, do I? All you have to do is give me keys to the garden gate and I’m yours.” One brown eyebrow cocked along his forehead.
Oh, so, tempting. But I don’t believe him. “I can’t…you can’t…we can’t…” She spluttered, then snapped her mouth shut. “Look, Hung…”
“Oh, how I love when you vocalize your appreciation of my endowments.” His lips curved in a wicked smile.
“Damn. Stop it. Look, Mr. Durand, my main job in this town is to manage Charming. Your main job is to do whatever you do, and no, I don’t need any details. One of the requirements for you getting the job done in this town is to register first.”
“If I were to follow your fucking rules,” Hung said, his temper flaring. “My target would be in Barrow by now and I wouldn’t have one hundred thousand dollars waiting for me in my bank account in the Caymans. I got in last night, actually tried to follow your ridiculous rule, got nowhere and barely caught up with my hit. Then, I had to ‘bend the rules,’” he made air quotes, “around your mariner laws to get safe passage for him back to the client. The fishing vessel I’d secured with a hefty portion of my profit almost gave up on me and left, profit in hand, thanks to you and your goddamned laws. Happy now?”
Chia blinked. “You…you tried?”
“I tried. First and last time, ever.”
“But, you tried to follow the rules?” She felt giddy with delight. In the three years she’d managed Charming, since she turned twenty-three, Hung had never ever, not once, tried to follow the rules.
“Yes. Don’t look so happy. It will never happen again.”
“Why’d you even try?”
“Doesn’t matter.” His gaze slid away from her.
“It does to me.”
“I thought you and me…we could…you know…catch up. It’s been a while.”
Her eyes narrowed and it became her turn to smile wickedly. “You wanted to bed me, didn’t you? Times tough in the tundra? No willing females?” The blood in her body pooled between her legs in response to the idea.
“Maybe,” he said, eyes trained out the window. “And no, times aren’t tough. I’ve never sampled you before…”
“Much.” She almost purred like a cat.
“Much,” he agreed. His eyes slid back to meet hers and she almost gasped at the feral heat pounding into her from his fiery blue orbs. He brought his head close once again and took a long whiff of her. “Oh, yes, Chia Petit. I had a hankering for your kind of sexy.”
Oh, God. Her eyes wanted to roll back in her head in a swoon. Focus, girl, focus. You want him dead remember? Your job’s at stake. “Stop with the seduction,” she managed to say. “I’ve got a job to protect, namely, mine. Red wants you, he wants my job, and he wants to parade your head around town on a platter.”
“And how do you plan on preventing that? Or should I take care of it? I sure as hell don’t like being framed.”
“No!” she exclaimed. “You’d be tried for murder.”
“Let me guess, some ordinance or other stating I can’t act in self-defense?”
Chia looked away from him.
Hung scoffed. “Dang it, woman, you’ve got this place so protected there’s no room to breathe. Your town is laced with laws. Tangled, trussed up, bound tight.” He shook his head, his face lined with disgust. “I’ve got orders to hang around until my next hit rolls through town. I might get bored…so many restrictions on what I can and can’t do, you know.” His eyes pierced hers with hidden meaning.
“Hung, don’t do anything stupid,” she said, thinking of him going after either Red or Dick.
“Who said anything about stupid?” he said, looking at her with seductive, hooded eyes. “I assume some things are within the jurisdiction of this fine community.”
Oh, Lord, that’s what he meant. She wrenched her gaze away.
“Know anyone who might be available?”
She almost offered herself in willing sacrifice…you know, take one for the team…but her head shook back and forth in reluctant negation, as if without her consent. “Think how it would look. I…I can’t.”
“Damn, Chia. I know you want to. You want it as much as I do.” Hung made an angry sneer. “You and your goddamned rules. Suit yourself. Anyway, my hit should be here any day. Might be here already, but I don’t think so.”
“Anyone I know?”
“Doubt it. Some bitch vamp named Sultana. Tracking a vamp isn’t easy. Don’t need any more complications. Got my silver at the ready. I’ve got to bring her head back as proof.”
Where did I hear that name? Her eyes flicked to the rearview, past Hung, to the parking lot. Two of the administrative assistants strode in her direction, laughing and talking. “Uh, oh, we’re about to get company.”
Hung looked to see what she referred to, and without another word, he shifted into a fly.
“How can you do that? A dumbass fly?” she spluttered.
One of the assistants, a gal named Debbie whose brain cells had all lodged in her boobs, strode up to the truck. She tapped on the tinted window with a long painted fingernail, indicating Chia roll it down.
Chia groaned inwardly. She’d bet money this stupid girl let Cecil have his way with her, whenever, wherever. She shook her head, shouting, “Too cold.” She didn’t want Hung to escape.
“What?” the ditzy blond assistant yelled. She reached for the door handle.
“Wait!” Chia yelled. She didn’t want anyone to see her roped like a calf in her own vehicle. With great difficulty, she wriggled her arms and maneuvered one of her fingers to the window controls. She stabbed it until the window parted a crack. The fly crawled up the window and flew free.
Chia groaned, inwardly.
“Hi. Just want to let you know I ordered those supplies you asked for. You know, paper, pens and ink for the printer.”
“And you had to tell me this right now, why, exactly?” Chia wanted to fire the woman on the spot. “Or, why ever? It’s your job to do as I say.”
“You’re here. I’m here. Seemed as good a time as any,” the blonde said, shrugging. “Anyway. Now you know. Later.” She turned and sashayed away, with a small wave of her red nail painted fingers.
“Dag nab it!” Chia said, frustrated. She loved the phrase. It usually made her happy when she said it. It had been her grandpa’s favorite. “Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she added. “Stupid ass Debbie and her stupid ass blond ideas.” Then, like an arrow shot through her cranium, Hung’s last statement registered in her mind, waving like a blood soaked flag.
Vamp named Sultana? Wasn’t that the name D’Raynged mentioned about his last conquest? Something about how he wanted to get to know her better and play with her for a while? One thing she knew with certainty: no one, not a bounty hunter, not a shifter, not another vamp, and definitely not a mortal—no one got between a vampire and his latest lust project. She groaned, struggling against the restraints Hung had bound her with. “Could this day get any worse?” Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, she turned her head to see Cecil striding purposefully toward the passenger side door.
As if they had an arranged date, the passenger door opened, startling her. Cecil folded his tall body into the seat. “Turn the truck on. Let’s go.”
“Why should I? Where are we going?”
“There’s something I need to show you. Right fucking now.”
“Right,” she said to herself. “I guess it can get worse.” She glanced at the rope around her waist. “Uh, can you untie me first?”
Chapter Five
“So, do you ever do Debbie?” Chia sped toward Haunted Bear glacier, the place Cecil said to head toward. Her ghosts circled high in the sky, like soaring eagles. She wished they’d stay up there.
“Do what to Debbie?” Cecil asked, clearly confused.
“You know, fit the bits together?” Chia asked, blushing, sorry she’d broached the subject.
They zipped past the cemetery with its plain headstones and decomposing wood crosses, marking the so-called “first families” of Charming, those who staked their claim in the mid-1700s. The town founder, Octavius Charming, a nefarious gay gold miner, had his headstone here. In the summer, the Hail, Charming Festival was held on this very ground to celebrate.
Tell that to the native peoples, Chia always thought when one person or another spoke of their first-family heritage. She didn’t want to get into arguments, though. People around here were proud of their history. Who was she to make waves? And hell—even she carried pride at her family’s origins here in Charming. Her mom and dad were the first ones to leave and never look back, a fact that bothered her to this day. How could anyone leave Charming?
“We already discussed the so-called bits. Mine’s way more than a mouthful.” Cecil grimaced at her. “You’ve got the wrong impression of me. God said ‘super-size this one’ and his angel said, ‘yes, sir!’”
“Oh, puh-lease,” Chia said, rolling her eyes. Apparently, he regarded his man-parts seriously. She glanced at the snow covered tundra, longing for the breakup when snowmelts would yield lots of mud, flowers, and lushness out here. In the late spring, it would be a teeming meadow. Now, it stayed shielded in white, like a well-kept secret.
“I’m just sayin’,” Cecil said, a solemn look on his face.
“Answer the question. Have you or haven’t you bedded Debbie?” She lifted her hand to wave at Graham, a local dog musher, last year’s winner of the Iditarod. I wonder if he has a girlfriend.
Graham, out feeding his dogs, seemed to squint and his face brightening, waved back.
“Who’s Debbie?”
“Big busty blond who works for me? Kinda dumb?”
Cecil frowned. “It rings a bell. Maybe. I don’t ask their names. Why, want to ask her how I am in bed? I can tell you straight up, I leave the ladies’ satisfied.”
“Okay, okay, too much info again.”
“You asked. For someone who doesn’t sound interested, you sure sound interested.” He shrugged and looked out the window, peering intently at their surroundings. “Let me know. I’ll always fit you in.” He turned toward her, his eyes suspicious. “There isn’t some sort of law against doing Debbie is there?”
Chia blu
shed, waving a hand at him. “No, there’s no law. Laws in this town are only meant to keep people safe.”
“There seems to be a lot of them. I don’t know how you remember them. My way is simple. I live by the canine code. Stay friendly, stay aware, keep to your territory, do what you like and stay out of the garbage.”
Chia spluttered out a laugh.
“You can get sick,” Cecil said, looking at her earnestly.
They zipped past the turnoff to her land, the property her grandfather and his father had homesteaded. The same land her parents left behind, taking her with them to live in the big city of New York. She’d made such a fuss, they finally shipped her back to live with her grandparents. She’d hated big city life in the lower forty-eight.
Cecil opened the glove box and rooted around.
“Can I help you?” Chia said frostily. She tugged at his hand. “Stay away from my gun.”
“Can’t stand guns, don’t worry. Looking for a map.”
“No need. I know this area well.”
“Humor me.” He retrieved an ancient looking paper map, and peered at it, hunching forward in his seat. “Here! Right here, turn left,” he said, bouncing in the seat.
Chia swerved and fishtailed into the barely there snowy dirt road, almost repeating the same out of control maneuver she did in her driveway this morning. Which was a long, long time ago, she grumped. Will this day ever end?
“Good driving, Ms. Manager. Now head toward the base of the glacier.”
“Roger, copy that,” she said, her stomach growling with hunger. “Except the road is snowed in up ahead. Let’s take our chances on the Two Mile Lake. Think it’s still solid?”
Cecil looked thoughtful. “Probably still good. Usually is this time of year. Just take it nice and easy.”
Chia eased the Jeep onto the frozen lake.
Cecil studied the map, as if it held some clue.
“You know you didn’t need a map to get out here. The glacier borders my property. I can see it from my living room window with the binoculars. I know this land.”
“That’s not why we brought the map. We brought it to emphasize a point.”