Bound to the Bounty Hunter

by Hayson Manning

  She wrote a list of names starting with Harlan, Zeb, and Dug. Thor sat in the middle, Babic and Petrov rounded out the list. She then pushed the paper across the desk.

  He read it and nodded.

  She sent him a wobbly smile then stood and tucked the folder Petrov had given her under her arm.

  Pipe pushed keys toward her. “Triple lock the door at the end of the hall, which takes you directly to the flat.” His eyes bored into hers. “There’s food in the pantry. If you want something, call me and I’ll organize it.”

  “Can I bring my dog here? I promise to keep him away from the bar, but I need him, along with Annie and Gemma.”

  Pipe nodded, paused, and squeezed her shoulder before walking out the door.

  First up she had to get in contact with Titus and make sure he was okay. She had to organize a meal to arrive on Thursday and subsequent Thursdays. She had to get her toothbrush and toothpaste. Get Pongo and hit the road, while not processing what had happened with Harlan.

  Tomorrow she’d be far, far away.

  …

  Harlan paced outside the closed door, mentally berating himself for not telling her everything. A cramp had hold of Harlan’s stomach and wouldn’t let go. He’d fucked up. Badly.

  Sophie’s words, each one heavier than the last, cut him deep. No more secrets.

  Every breath wound in ice, chilled his body. This is why he didn’t do relationships. This is why he had an endless stream of women who wanted the same as him. This is why he hated the emotion, the vulnerability, the indecision of not being in control tearing through him in a never-ending cycle.

  He’d take all the fucked-up feelings as long as he had his woman back.

  This ended now with him taking back control.

  Harlan turned the handle of the door. He’d given them time, now he needed to talk to his woman. Alone.

  Harlan pushed against the door. Locked. He thumped the hard wood.

  The door opened. Harlan peered around Petrov looking for a mass of black curls.

  “She’s gone,” Petrov said, his stance wide, his arms across his chest.

  Cold fear lassoed Harlan’s heart. Harlan pulled car keys from his pocket.

  Fuck.

  “She left unguarded?”

  “One of my men is on her until she gets where she needs to go,” Petrov replied.

  Harlan turned on his heel and headed for the door.

  “Franco.”

  Harlan turned and stilled at the coldness in the man’s eyes—a glimpse into what he had once been.

  “Fuck with my daughter and you fuck with me.”

  His head whipped around. “Then we’re going to have a clusterfuck of a problem, because I’m not staying away from her.”

  …

  A few hours later, Harlan threw his phone on Sophie’s counter where it landed with a thud next to his keys.

  “Sophie,” he called.

  No fat, fart-dropping dog met him.

  He stalked to her bedroom. Clothes were still in drawers. Nothing missing, except Sophie.

  He walked back into the family room, the pressure in his head pounding. He tried to block the scent of raspberries, but they filled his head.

  You said you’d rather skin yourself than hurt me.

  Judging by the devastation on her face, he’d ripped open her chest, pulled out her heart, and tossed it to the ground. He felt open and exposed, and he hated it.

  Sophie’s phone went straight to voicemail. He’d called Annie, whose phone did the same. Iz had informed him that Gemma had stopped by with a coworker named Cope and had taken Pongo for a walk. Harlan hadn’t thought much of it with his world sliding into the gutter. Sophie had called Titus. She’d told him she was safe, had her dog, she’d left town, and no, he didn’t know where she’d gone.

  Harlan closed his eyes, and his brain pictured Sophie staring at him like he was the only man on the planet.

  His phone pinged, bringing him back to reality. Pulling it from his pocket, he jogged out her front door. He would be finding her and bringing her home. To him.

  …

  An hour later Sophie pushed open the back door of Pipe’s. Drizzle hung in a soft mist of gray, the sun a small blob against a whitewashed sky. She jogged to the Audi and drove to her destination.

  With her mouth dry and her legs not taking instruction from her brain, Sophie walked up to the front door and knocked. Beth opened the door, her daughter on her hip.

  “Sophie, how lovely to see you, but I thought you were going to courier your notes over.” Beth stood sideways, letting Sophie into the room.

  She pulled the envelope from her jacket, thankful that Gemma had been able to find her case notes. “I wanted to do this in person.”

  Hannah gurgled on her mother’s hip.

  “If now isn’t a good time, I can come back. I’ve got a few things to do…” She let the words trail.

  “Come in.” Beth smiled then closed the front door.

  Beth led the way into the dining room and placed Hannah on a fluffy pink rug with wooden blocks and smiling plastic turtles scattered across a backdrop of waltzing bunnies and penguins.

  Sophie smoothed her hands down her jeans and told Beth about her mom, her dad, and Danielle. She then told her the news no daughter wanted to hear. She carefully pulled out the photo of a smiling Danielle holding a baby, love written all over her face.

  Beth reached out and took the photo, her fingers trembling.

  “Danielle wanted you to know you were loved.” The words scraped out of Sophie’s raw throat.

  Beth nodded, tears in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry your mom doesn’t want to see you.”

  Beth looked at her daughter. “I knew in the back of my brain that if she had wanted to find me, she would have, but I held out hope. It would have been nice to have the connection, you know?” Beth’s voice trembled.

  Sophie reached out and grabbed her hand. “I think it’s the people in your life who make a family. The people who’ll stick by you no matter what.” Titus and Sally’s faces swam into view. Annie and Gemma, now grumpy Pipe. “Danielle left me her contact details. She was thrilled to hear you’ve got a family of your own—”

  “I’d love to contact her.” Beth looked up from studying the photo, her eyes misty. “I appreciate you coming and seeing me in person. I know you’re busy. It means a lot having you tell me, instead of reading case notes.” She paused. “Thanks.” A waver trembled her voice. “Will you stay for lunch? I’ve got tacos.”

  Sophie returned the smile. “The cilantro queen didn’t bring any cilantro.”

  Beth pulled her into a hug.

  Sophie stiffened then relaxed into the woman’s embrace, inhaling the scent of baby lotion, milk, and Nivea she’d forever associate with Beth.

  Beth pulled back. “Don’t be a stranger, and send me the bill.”

  Sophie nodded, knowing this account wasn’t going on the books. “Sisters without mothers.” Sophie smiled. “Let’s stay in touch.”

  A beautiful smile lit Beth’s face. “I’d like that.”

  A short time later Sophie walked into the back entrance of Pipe’s, past Barney and his smiling dinosaur friends. She walked up the stairs to the apartment, her hand gripping the smooth, worn banister. She pulled keys from her bag, but stopped dead at the opened door.

  “Did that dog fart?”

  Annie’s horrified voice and Gemma’s giggle loosened Sophie’s muscles.

  She pushed open the door to find Annie pressed against the wall, her hand over her mouth.

  Pongo turned his head, dropped a shotgun of farts, and lumbered over to her.

  Sophie sank to her knees, ignoring the stench, and hugged her dog tight.

  Gemma let out a whoop, grabbed Sophie by the armpits and pulled her into a hug. Annie joined them before she pulled back and scanned her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Twenty minutes later, Sophie had emptied her heart and left it flapping in the wind.r />
  “Which is why I have to get away.” Sophie pulled her hand across her eyes. “I stood there in front of him stripped bare and vulnerable, and he’d played me the whole time.” She sucked in her lips. “Betrayed and conned by the biggest con man of them all. And I didn’t see it.” She turned her head. “It’s humiliating.” The cramp that had started in her stomach at the beginning of the conversation burrowed tighter.

  “You’re right to walk away.” Annie’s blue eyes flashed.

  “Maybe you should hear what he has to say,” Gemma said, biting her lip.

  Sophie shook her head. “No. I’m done. Even if I wanted to hear what he said, he’ll do the usual ‘We’ll talk tomorrow. Give me an hour Soph, then we’ll talk,’ but we never did. Now I know why.” She dug her hands into her pockets. “I thought we were building something. Turns out I’d only ever been an entry in his accounts ledger.” She hitched a breath. “And I didn’t see it. That’s the embarrassing part. I didn’t see the con right under my nose, and if anyone should be able to spot a con, it’s me.”

  “Oh, Soph.” Gemma hugged her, pulling her tightly in to her body. “You deserve the best there is out there.”

  “Yeah, girlfriend, you do.” Annie joined the huddle, her hand brushing hair from Sophie’s face.

  “I don’t know what to do with this. It’s too much. I don’t want to see Harlan. I don’t know what to think about Petrov being my dad and my father ripping me away from a family who loved their little girl. I have to get away and process.” Sophie rubbed her temples.

  Annie stepped back, panic flashing in her eyes. “But you’ll come back, right? You’ll text us?”

  “I’ll be back. We may not be bound by blood, but we’re family,” Sophie said, not bothering to try to hide the quiver in her voice. “I’ll text you when I get where I’m going.”

  “Damn straight we’re family. When you’re back, we’re having margarita night. We’ve got some critiquing of terrible porn to do and voodoo dolls to make of Harlan Franco and I know where my pins are going.” Annie stilled then slowly blinked. “Wait. That means that lick of chocolate will no longer be on my tail.”

  “Or Thor,” Gemma said. “Thank you, Jesus. It’s getting harder to pretend around that man.”

  “Pretend what?” Sophie and Annie said in unison.

  Gemma turned pink. “Nothing.”

  Annie pulled her vibrating phone out of her back pocket.

  “Harlan,” Annie said, her eyes narrow.

  Sophie blinked, the cramp in her stomach now through to her intestines.

  “Time for me to go.” Sophie hugged her friends.

  …

  Nothing, I have nothing.

  After a debrief Harlan had called with Zeb and Iz, he’d come to the bone-crunching answer that they had three-eighths of fuck all when it came to finding Sophie. He closed his eyes and took a breath that did nothing to quiet the shallow beat of his heart. Petrov insisted that their contract was finished, and that he would protect Sophie. He had no idea of the car Sophie drove. Petrov wasn’t giving him an inch on that front, either, only to say she’d sent him a text and would be in contact. Sophie was now vapor.

  Regret crawled through his gut. He should have talked to her, told her why he’d been staying close to her. But instead, he’d done what he always did and tried to control the situation his way.

  If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. He punched in Annie’s number. Still not picking up. An incoming text from Zeb alerted him that both Annie’s and Gemma’s cars were in the lot at Pipe’s.

  He grabbed his keys and stalked out the door. On a drive he didn’t remember, he pulled into Pipe’s parking lot, the tires crunching on the gravel. Rain streamed down the windshield.

  He ducked his head at the icy rain slicing down his back and entered the crowded bar.

  Annie sat on a stool at the bar, Gemma by her side. Gemma stiffened and turned her head, looking straight at him, she then hunched closer to Annie, whose blond hair whipped, her narrowed frosty eyes focusing on Harlan.

  Pipe walked toward him. He stopped inches away, arms crossed.

  “Where’s my woman, Pipe?”

  Pipe’s eyebrows rose. “She’s gone, and since you were on top of the list she wrote of people she didn’t want to see, you may want to check your relationship status.”

  Harlan’s hands curled into fists.

  Annie walked toward him, her face fierce.

  “Where is she?”

  “You think I’d tell you—think again.” She poked him in the chest. “When she gets back, I’m going to make it my mission to find her a man. A fine man who won’t use her and won’t con her.”

  “She has a man,” Harlan growled.

  Annie’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, she thought she did.”

  His spine straightened, but he said nothing. Instead he turned to Gemma, who shook her head. His world got very small and very dark.

  “Bringing you home, Soph.”

  For a split second he thought a woman said “yay” before he turned and jogged out the door.

  Chapter Twenty

  Three weeks later

  Sophie breathed warm California air. She sat on a concrete bench on the Esplanade in Redondo Beach and stared toward Australia. The sun, a giant licked lollipop, started to drop into the sleepy ocean. Lycra-clad walkers pounded past, clutching expensive water bottles, their eyes on invisible targets.

  She’d left Denver and, with no idea where to go, she’d driven to her presumed birthplace of California. With Pongo clipped into the backseat, she’d driven west, paid cash at cheap motels until the need to keep moving started to fade.

  It didn’t escape her that she was doing exactly what her father had done—when it got too hot, he ran—but she’d be heading back to face what life had to throw at her.

  The pain of Harlan’s betrayal had started to ebb, and she’d begun to heal.

  It had taken a lot of Pringles, a lot of hanging with the good folk of Genoa City, but mostly her time had been spent with her butt plonked on this bench, watching the sun rise then set. She’d started reading her correct Taurus horoscope, which was equally as ambiguous as her old Libra one.

  Tonight would be her last night in California. Her heart now felt like a fresh bruise instead of the slash of a razor when she thought of Harlan. She’d drip-fed him out of her head, processing what they’d had, then burying it with a clutch of flowers on a grave, until her mind was dotted with graves and colorful flowers.

  She’d read through the contents of Petrov’s folder twice, crying at the life and lives lost. The mother she’d never known. A life changed—her father going straight the only redemption in the story. She’d run her fingers over the sketches he’d had drawn every year. It had been strange to watch herself evolve, the likeness uncanny.

  She understood Petrov’s angle for the info gathering and guarding her; he was worth a lot of money and his interests had been pure—a man searching for his lost child.

  So many questions would catapult into her brain at random intervals. Why O’Connor had taken her from her family, she’d never know, and it hurt. Questions had stormed her brain until both hemispheres were fried. Did he take her for a ransom then couldn’t give her up? Was it a random act—a spur-of-the-moment idea to take a little girl and use her in his cons? Did he genuinely think she’d be better off with him and away from a father who at that time wasn’t exactly leading the life of a saint? Had every happy memory of them been a manufactured lie?

  After the second night, she’d called Petrov, asking questions and verifying data, dropping into PI mode. He never called her, instead letting her take the lead on the relationship, which she appreciated. At first it had been stilted and uncomfortable, but she’d started to relax and listen to the stories of when she was little. Watching the Kansas City Chiefs games, eating her dad’s favorite game day food, borscht soup—the weird smell of beets solved.

  Somewhere along the way in her
head, Petrov had become her dad.

  It turned out her mother had read about a newborn baby surrendered at a fire station. Petrov had pulled strings, and the light of his life had come through his door.

  She’d asked why he’d been sending snow globes, but he hadn’t been the one to send them. Something for her to work out.

  Not Harlan. Not anyone from his team. Her.

  Earlier, she’d phoned Titus on Pipe’s burner phone for her daily update. Both he and Sally were fine. Titus appreciated that Annie loved cooking for them but could she please stop, because the woman couldn’t open a bag of chips without it being some sort of disaster. Sophie had laughed when Titus filled her in on Annie’s attempt at a pot roast. Neither the pot nor the roast had survived, but they’d had tasty Thai takeout.

  Annie had sent her daily text updates. Harlan had turned up at Pipe’s with what Annie called a “determined look” on his face, but what Gemma had texted was “heartache.” Zeb, much to Annie’s exasperation, still took to turning up at random, unwanted moments.

  Going home would mean possibly running into Harlan, who’d have a newly minted blonde sub attached to his arm. She turned her head, dismissing him and his sub. When and if she saw Harlan, she’d be polite and professional.

  She ruffled her dog’s head and pulled out her phone. She punched in a number and laughed when a terse voice barked in her ear.

  …

  “Are you sure you’re ready?” Gemma looked up from coating her lashes in mascara.

  Sophie pulled on her skirt and frowned. “Did you shrink this? I swear it’s shorter.”

  Gemma grinned. “No, I didn’t shrink it.” She paused. “What if Harlan turns up?”

  She shrugged. “If he does, I’m fine. I’m moving on with my life, and I expect he’s on another assignment.”

  Sophie pulled on the tank top trying to cover her breasts. A wave of weariness swept through her. The drive from Redondo had taken her longer than expected. She’d stopped on the outskirts of Vegas and hung with Pongo on a balcony watching the night lights. She’d then hauled straight through to Grand Junction, stopping for the night before she’d driven straight to Pipe’s to start her shift. Pongo was asleep in the apartment above with Pipe checking on him more than necessary. Seemed the man had a soft side for farting dogs.