Quincy: A Montana Bounty Hunters Story

by Devlin, Delilah

  She’d worried at first that he’d one day shake his head and realize he’d been under some kind of spell. That this wasn’t real. But the more time they spent together, the more he talked about their shared future, his dreams, questions about hers. Just last night, he’d told her that he’d never realized a man could feel this way, this deeply about a woman. That he finally “got it.”

  However, they had yet to talk about the fact they no longer used protection, and he knew she wasn’t on The Pill. He didn’t seem to care that there might be consequences.

  Today, he was in Kalispell, planning a hunt with the team located there. He’d told her he’d be gone for a few days, so she’d thrown herself into helping Brian redo the agency’s filing system with fresh folders and labels. She wondered if he was just giving her busywork, so she didn’t miss Quincy so much. Which was, of course, impossible.

  She’d grown very fond of Brian. He didn’t let the fact of his missing legs impede his enjoyment of his job. He’d told her he knew he was the hub of the operation, the one who kept the engines running while the hunters did the more exciting work out in the field. Although, now that they had a van rigged out with surveillance equipment and a hydraulic lift, he participated in the more complex hunts, directing teams as they closed in on fleeing criminals while using drones outfitted with cameras to monitor everyone’s locations from above.

  His eyes sparkled when he talked about those missions, and she knew, deep down, he lived for those moments because, at his heart, he was still a warrior, no matter he’d been mustered out of the Army after losing his legs.

  She worried about the fact that his entire life revolved around MBH. Brian needed someone of his own to share his life. He was still a handsome man with a great job. There had to be a woman who could look past the fact he’d lost his legs.

  And maybe that woman was the one trying to cajole him into accompanying her to the track. Raydeen dropped by several times a week, usually to meet with Hook for a run. She’d been Hook’s physical therapist, and Tamara suspected Brian was wary of her because of her profession. Still, whenever she was around, Brian’s gaze followed her movements.

  Raydeen was what Tamara would call a “handsome” woman. With her height and strong build, she looked like a modern-day Amazon. However, the golden-brown freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks went a long way toward softening her look. Standing beside Brian, they complimented each other’s appearance—him with his dark hair and pale skin, her with her large, dark eyes and pale cocoa complexion. Tamara thought they’d make a very striking couple.

  “Aw, c’mon, Brian,” Raydeen said. “We’ll be gone less than an hour. You know I like company, and you don’t have to wheel around the track. You can be my timekeeper.”

  “Raydeen, I have too much to do, and Tamara, here, is still learning the ropes.”

  Raydeen flashed a glance toward her, and Tamara gave a shrug. “I can take messages. And if it’s something you need to handle, take your cell. I’ll call you.”

  “Besides, Bri,” Raydeen said, “I’d love a ride in the new van. I haven’t seen it since you guys rigged it out with the surveillance equipment.”

  Tamara hid a smile. Raydeen had hit on the one thing that might motivate him to go—a chance to show off his new toy.

  Brian gave Tamara a look. “Call me. Doesn’t matter how big or small.”

  She crossed her heart. “I will. And I promise not to steal the lunch Lacey left you in the breakroom fridge.”

  With that, Raydeen headed toward the back entrance beside which his van was parked. Tamara chuckled at how neatly the woman had manipulated him. She was glad Raydeen was a persistent woman. She needed to be if she wanted Brian.

  After they were gone, Tamara glanced around the office. She moved to the bulletin board with the bejeweled, framed picture of Lacey and Dagger in their Prom Queen and King finery. Other pictures had joined it. Some plucked from their website—pictures with mud-covered hunters surrounding Jamie and Sky at their wedding, a picture taken by the drone of the team moving through a ravine, Jamie in the lead with her dog, Tessa.

  Tamara hoped that, someday, she’d have a picture to add of a funny or poignant event. Then maybe she’d feel as though she belonged to this very tight-knit group. They treated each other like family, and she desperately wanted to feel a part of that.

  In the meantime, she was doing her best to become indispensable. Glancing around, she noted that trashcans needed emptying, and likely, the kitchen needed cleaning. Things she knew how to do. Then maybe she’d look at the agency’s website and answer viewers’ questions, if she could, or maybe she’d poke around the list of bounties and see if she could find any leads for the hunters to follow. Anything to keep busy because she missed Quincy so much.

  Quincy wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed that the hunt ended early and un-spectacularly on day two of his assignment to the Kalispell office. Their skip hadn’t done a very good job of laying low. No, he’d headed to the home of his uncle, the unlucky relative who’d listed his house as collateral for his bond, to borrow his car. The uncle’s house was the very first place they’d looked.

  And although they’d been prepared for a small war, given that Martin Pickens was a member of one of the local militia groups, his long rifle had jammed before he’d gotten off one shot as the team closed in on him, standing in the driveway after he’d hit the key fob to unlock his uncle’s car.

  Didn’t matter how easy the bust was, the payout was just as nice, even spread among seven hunters, and now he was on his way home. He’d surprise Tamara at the office, and maybe Brian would do them both another big favor and let her go home early.

  His phone rang, and he swiped across the screen and put the call on speaker. “Hey, Lacey, what’s up?”

  “Just wanted to run something by you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “I know you two had planned to begin demolition on her house after she got the payout from the insurance company, but I wondered if we might make a party of it? If you could get that dumpster delivered early, Jamie said she’d clear our schedules, and we can all come out on Saturday with our axes and sledgehammers.”

  A grin stretched his mouth. “You gonna wield a sledgehammer?”

  She laughed. “Hell, no. I would never be able to coordinate one with my outfit, but Dagger needs the workout. He’s gettin’ love handles. And Carly said Reaper’s been ornery lately. She figures if he can smash some things, he’ll be a heck of lot easier to live with. We can have a full crew out there to break shit, and I can help Tamara with keeping you guys fed. Thought I’d bring a grill.”

  “You gonna barbeque?”

  “Yup, and we’ll have trashcans filled with beer. What do you say?”

  “I say, hell yeah. If you guys want to throw a demolition party, we’re all in.”

  “It’ll be potluck, so I’ll send you a list of what you and Tamara can bring.”

  When she ended the call, Quincy shook his head. He’d figured he’d be working his odd days off for a month and still have to hire a couple of helpers to clear the debris. Tamara would be thrilled, because after the cleanup, she intended to put the lot up for sale.

  Plus, with all the extra hunters there, he doubted anyone from the motorcycle club would dare come around to harass them. A warrant had been issued for Pug McPherson’s arrest, but he was likely in Mexico by now. No one had seen him in weeks, and a few of his buddies had let drop that he was partial to a certain beach in Baja. Quincy didn’t like unfinished business, but short of hunting him down, which would likely end with his own ass in a Mexican prison, there was nothing to be done.

  Again, his phone rang. This time it was Reaper.

  “Yo, heard you guys didn’t even get a chance to break a sweat, the hunt was over so quick.”

  “Heard right.”

  “Lacey call you about this weekend?”

  “You mean the demolition party?”

  “Yeah, just wanted to run down a
list of what equipment we’ll need to scrape together. Animal has a lot of tools, seeing as he’s still building that house. Said he’d load ’em all up. Sky and I have pickaxes, shovels, wheelbarrows… We just need a list, so we don’t have to fool around going to the hardware store.”

  Quincy shook his head. Again, he was reminded that he was part of a community now. One of the “in” kids. Glad to have something to distract him during his drive home, Quincy said, “Got a pencil?”

  Tamara heard a floorboard creak in the hallway outside the bedroom door, and she froze on the ladder. She knew she ought to run—no one who meant any good would be creeping around her house tonight. But running meant she’d have to drop the paint roller she held, and she did not want a bigger mess on the floor than she already had. Caught, trying to make a decision, she screeched when arms closed around her thighs, and she slammed the roller behind her back, hopefully in the vicinity of her attacker’s head.

  “Goddamn, Tamara. Easy, baby, it’s just me.”

  “Put me down!”

  Quincy laughed and lowered her to the floor. “I’m sorry I scared you, but it was just too tempting.”

  Tamara quickly turned. With her hands on her hips in “bitch stance”, she gave him a lethal glare. “You scared years off my life, and look at the mess!” she said, pointing at the hardwood floor beyond the edge of the drop cloth.

  Dutifully, he glanced downward. There were tiny flecks of paint covering the floor. “Give me a bucket of water and a rag, babe. I’ll clean up.”

  “No, you won’t. You’re going outside on the lawn to strip. I don’t want that paint transferring anywhere else in the house. And then you head straight to the shower. It’s in your hair.”

  Quincy’s shoulders dropped, and he let out a deep sigh. “I’ll be quick, and then I’ll help you clean up.”

  Angry with him and herself, Tamara’s shoulders fell the moment he disappeared from the room. Quincy was home early. Something she should have celebrated, and she knew this wasn’t the homecoming he’d expected. It certainly wasn’t the one she’d dreamed of—the bedroom repainted and pristine, her waiting with a roast in the oven and KY lube on the nightstand.

  As it was, there would be no sleeping in their bed that night. Despite the open windows, the fumes were just too strong. And after she’d shouted at him like a shrew, they might be sleeping in separate rooms.

  Trudging to the kitchen, she pulled a pail from under the sink, gave it a squirt of Dawn, then pulled a dishrag from the drawer and headed back to the bedroom. She set down the pail and knelt. A moment later, Quincy walked past, his naked knees in her line of sight. With a quick upward glance, she caught a glimpse of his hard ass as he entered the bathroom and closed the door behind him—all without looking at her or saying a single word.

  Her stomach dropped to her toes. She just knew she’d ruined everything. She plunged the rag into the soapy water and began scrubbing at the flecks. Why was she so angry seeing those little specks of pale sage-colored paint? She’d already decided she’d be renting a buffer to strip the floors. Glancing at the closed door, she decided she had higher priorities—like giving her man a proper welcome home. So, she stood and stripped in place, careful to toss her own paint-smudged clothing on the drop cloth. Then she strode to the bathroom and let herself inside.

  She stood outside the curtained tub, biting her lip, hoping he’d be happy to see her.

  The curtain slid to the side and a hand entered her vision.

  She placed hers on his palm then looked up.

  He gave her a crooked smile. “Want to wash my hair to make sure you get all that paint?”

  “Guess it’s fair since I’m the one who clobbered you with the roller.” She stepped over the side of the tub and moved closer to encircle his body with her arms. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I am happy to see you back so soon.”

  His arms fell around her and he kissed her forehead. “And I’m sorry I didn’t call out a warning. I snuck in, wanting to surprise you, but I never intended to frighten you.” He tipped up her chin. “Start over?”

  She gave him a smile. “Welcome home, honey.”

  Later, Quincy wore a pair of boxers as he scrubbed the floor. In the distance, he could hear Tamara humming as she bustled around the kitchen. Since she hadn’t had a chance to shop for groceries for a “proper” dinner, as she called it, she was making breakfast for dinner.

  The smell of bacon frying made his stomach growl, so he bent to his task, determined to finish quickly so he could sneak bacon off the counter when she wasn’t looking. However, the flecks had dried, so he used a fingernail to scrape them up.

  By the time he finished, she had the table set, and they sat across from each other, smiling, their cheeks still flushed from having sex in the shower. She wore a thin pink nightgown that perfectly complemented the color in her cheeks.

  “I could get used to this,” he said.

  She picked up a piece of bacon and bit it. When she was finished chewing, she said, “I wanted to be finished with the bedroom before you got back. It was going to be perfect.”

  “Sorry I ruined that for you.”

  “No, I was being…silly. I wanted it done, and looking beautiful, so you would think I’m good to have around.”

  Quincy tilted his head as he studied her expression. It was neutral, as though she was preparing for bad news. “Baby, you don’t have to prove your worth to me. I want you here, even if you’re not working your ass off to please me. Don’t ever think you have to.”

  She gave a slow shrug. “Okay.”

  Quincy leaned over the table. “Got plans for Saturday?” he asked, not sure whether she’d heard about the party.

  She shook her head. “Does that mean you’re going to be off? No takedowns?”

  He reached for her hand. “We’re starting demolition this weekend.”

  She blinked. “But I don’t have the money yet for the dumpster or to hire helpers.”

  “I’ll take care of the dumpster, and Montana Bounty Hunters is providing the muscle.”

  Her jaw sagged before snapping shut. “I don’t need any more charity from them. They’ve already done too much.”

  “It’s not charity, babe. Lacey’s throwing a demolition party. Everyone’s coming. We should have most of it knocked out this Saturday. I’ll make sure we have two large dumpsters and trucks on standby in case we need another.”

  Her eyes sparkled with tears. “They don’t have to do this.”

  “They want to. Carly said something about Reaper needing to crush things, and Lacey said Dagger could use the workout because he’s getting fat.”

  She laughed about that and wiped her eyes. “I like them, Quincy. You have really good friends.”

  “They’re our friends, darlin’. They’re just making sure you know it.”

  Chapter 11

  Saturday morning the sun shone bright. The early autumn air felt crisp, which was a good thing since “the work crew” had some tough manual labor ahead of them.

  Tamara, Lacey, Carly, and Jamie arrived first and set up a couple of banquet tables and a dozen folding chairs. Then the women moved new trash cans beside the tables, filled them with freshly purchased bags of ice, and thrust bottles of beer, soda, and water into the ice. Then they wrestled the propane grill from the back of Dagger’s new pickup, along with ice chests filled with meat and pre-cut veggies.

  By the time the men began to arrive, the women were already pink-cheeked and sweating.

  As the men began unloading their own gear, Tamara walked toward her charred home, remembering how it had looked and comparing the rubble to the picture in her mind. The house hadn’t had any “good bones”, but she’d spent years tweaking it, getting it just right. All her refurbed flea market finds, the rugs and furniture she’d scrimped to save for, toys she’d kept since childhood, pictures she’d never replace—all of it was gone.

  An arm slid around her back, and Quincy pulled her against his side. “I know
this is hard.”

  “I don’t care about the house. Not really. But all the mementos I have left are the few photos of my mom and dad I put up on Facebook. That’s it. My life before—just gone. And it happened so fast.”

  He pulled her in front of him then cupped her ass and jerked her up.

  Not caring about their audience, Tamara wrapped her legs around him.

  Quincy bent his forehead against hers. “We’ll make our own memories, babe. Keep your phone handy and snap some photos. We’ll begin today.”

  She felt as though her heart expanded in her chest. “You’re all I have, Quincy” she said. “And I don’t want to scare you, but I can’t ever lose you.”

  He gave her a quick hard kiss. “Think I’ll ever let you go?”

  Her sadness melted beneath the warmth of his sweet smile. “Well, let’s tear this house down and get started on our new life.”

  By late afternoon, Tamara couldn’t believe how much work her crew had done. She stood in front of the grill, turning hot dogs and hamburgers, readying the second meal of the day, but watching the men, as well as Carly and Jamie, continue to work clearing debris.

  The men for the most part were shirtless now, sweat glistening on their chests and backs. Jamie and Carly wore bandanas to keep their hair up. Everyone worked with leather gloves on their hands to protect them from splinters and blisters. While they’d used axes to take down the burned frame of the house and what remained of the floor, snow shovels had proven invaluable for picking up debris. The guys looked amazing carrying large pieces of timber and burned-out appliances. Everyone was covered with dark soot—except for Lacey and herself.