The Wanted

by Rory Miles

  “Morning,” Bron said.

  I glanced at him, quickly looking away when I saw him tugging on a shirt. My face heated; the warmth from the cooking bacon had nothing to do with my sudden fever. Physically, Bron was perfect. His personality could use some work, but he had been easier to get along with since the DMC incident. Not to mention he tried the hardest to get me to open up.

  This new side of him surprised me. His normal brusque manner didn’t exactly scream I’m a nice guy. I pressed my lips together. Would he go back to being rude once he saw me making progress?

  “Morning.” Removing the bacon from the pan, I drained some of the fat off before starting the eggs.

  Bron’s arm brushed against mine. “Breakfast?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” I said.

  He smiled at me. “Want me to toast the bread?”

  “Sure.” I handed him the flat pan I’d planned on using. “The butter is to your right.”

  “This may be Sloan’s domain but it is my house to. I know where we keep the butter.”

  I rolled my eyes at him.

  He laughed. “I like you like this.”

  I turned the eggs, trying not to scramble them too much, before I glanced up at him. His smile warmed my insides.

  “Me too,” I said.

  He worked on the toast while I finished the eggs. By the time everything was ready the other men had woken. Corban dropped a kiss on my shoulder before heading to the table. Noah squeezed my arm when he passed, his long eyelashes framing keen emerald eyes. Erik, ever the trickster, ruffled my hair.

  Sloan patted down his unruly auburn hair and squinted at my eggs, probably making sure they were cooked right. I glanced down at them, worried I’d messed up. When he smiled at me, I knew he was joking and a sigh escaped my lips. Kace stormed past, sitting at the far end of the table and avoiding eye contact. Shawn was still gone on what the men called a business trip. Whatever that meant.

  Bron grabbed the bacon and toast, carrying the food over to the table. I set the eggs down in the center and went to grab plates but Noah had beaten me to it.

  “Relax, you did all the hard work.”

  “Thanks,” I said, heading back to the table. I pulled out the eighth chair, between Bron and Corban, and sat down. Then I stood up, frowning at the chair.

  Erik laughed. “You’d think she saw a spider.”

  “Don’t make a big deal about it,” Noah said, shaking his head at Erik.

  “Let’s not make this a thing,” Sloan said, scooping some eggs onto my plate. “We bought you a chair. So what?”

  “It matches the other ones.” Which meant it wasn’t just a temporary addition to make sure there was enough room.

  “Keen observation, Winter.” Corban bit into a piece of bacon, winking at me while he chewed.

  Erik snickered.

  “If you sit down,” Bron said, pulling me back to the chair, “we can explain.”

  I shot Kace a look. His jaw ticked in irritation and his brown eyes darkened. Is this why he’d been determined to make peace?

  Noah cleared his throat. I swung my gaze to meet his, swallowing the lump that was forming in my throat.

  “Winter. Will you be our new house mate?”

  My eyes widened. I’d known what was coming from the second I realized they’d bought a chair for me, but hearing the words out loud . . . made it all the more real. I glanced at all of them, their smiling faces. Well, everyone but Kace smiled. I shrugged at him, trying to apologize for what I was about to say.

  “Hell yes.”

  Erik whooped, Bron chuckled. I beamed at them, feeling happy for the first time since I’d returned. I had a home.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I heard him before I saw him. Grunts of frustration came from just ahead but the pathway was shielded by trees. When I rounded an abrupt corner, the trees gave way to grass, and I saw Flynn pulling at some weeds in a garden bed that ran the length of a run-down house. The home was situated halfway between the cottage and the city. Flowery curtains hung over the windows. Flynn didn’t strike me as a floral kind of guy. Maybe his grandma lived here?

  He wrestled with a particularly stubborn spear thistle. I watched with a bemused smile, leaning against one of the trees at the end of the path.

  “Shit,” he muttered, bending toward the weed and pulling harder.

  “I don’t think that thistle likes you,” I called out.

  He jumped up, spinning around with a wild look in his eyes. The madness in his gaze faded when he saw me but his face turned red with rage.

  “Why are you sneaking up on me?”

  I gave him a look and pushed off the tree, coming to stand next to him. “I didn’t sneak up on you.” He had let his guard down, something bounty hunters weren’t known to do given the nature of our work. Sometimes those we captured came seeking revenge once they were free. Every good bounty hunter knew that, and I suspected Flynn knew too; being taken captive had messed with him more than he let on.

  He wiped his brow with his arm, smearing dirt across his forehead. I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile.

  “What do you want?”

  “Well, hello to you too,” I said and narrowed my eyes at him. “I came to see how you were doing.”

  He grunted, like he didn’t quite believe me. “I’m fine.”

  “If you say so.” Ignoring all my mother’s lessons about other people’s gardens, I squatted down and grabbed the thistle at the base, pulling the root free with a yank of my wrist. I handed it to him. “You’re welcome.”

  He frowned at my smile. I rested my hands on my hips, tilting my head to look in his confused eyes.

  “We could be friends,” I offered.

  “Friends?” he asked. He smiled, placing his dimples on full display. “You think I need a friend?”

  I shrugged. “I know you don’t have anyone to talk to. At least, not anyone who understands what you went through.”

  His smile fell.

  Swallowing my pride, I said, “I don’t either.”

  “I don’t do girlfriends,” he warned.

  I laughed. Goddess, he was full of himself. “I do not want to be your girlfriend.”

  He frowned. “Why not?”

  Shoving his shoulder, I said, “You’re ridiculous. I have enough confusing relationships with men already. I’m offering you friendship and friendship only, pinky promise.” I held up a pinky, wiggling my eyebrows at him.

  He hesitantly locked his pinky with mine, giving me a hard look. “I’m serious, no girlfriends.”

  I squeezed his pinky a little too hard before letting go. Deepening my voice to match his tone, I said, “I’m serious.” Then smirked. “Don’t worry, Flynn. I don’t like you, not even in the slightest.”

  He looked surprised by my confession. Was he used to women falling all over him? That’s a dumb question. Of course he was, he had dimples. Though they were endearing . . . dimples didn’t stand a chance when compared to men like Bron and Corban. Or Noah . . . or Erik. Oh yes, and compared to Sloan—can’t forget my ginger or his twin—Flynn was no match. Even Kace, the asshole, was devastatingly handsome.

  “I have an idea.”

  He smiled. “Ah. So this is why you came to see me.”

  “One of the reasons,” I said, lifting a shoulder. “I really do need a friend though. That was the other reason.”

  “Help me with these?” He gestured to the weeds.

  “Sure.” When had weed picking been something I’d readily agree to? Maybe staying cooped up in the cottage for weeks on end had scrambled my brain. We squatted, pulling at the weeds while I told him my idea. He didn’t react at first, which made me think he hated the idea. Had I misjudged the situation?

  “I’m just suggesting a little more organization.”

  “With you in charge?” he asked with a smile.

  I nodded. “You obviously don’t care to do it or you would have already created some sort of process for it. If we
take control of the incoming requests rather than leaving the job to the palace guard, we can negotiate better prices.” The weed I’d been pulling came loose; dirt caked my fingers by this point, but I didn’t mind.

  “But you get first dibs on the jobs?” Flynn let out a breath of frustration when another thistle refused to budge.

  Pushing him aside, I grabbed the weed he’d been working at and pulled it free with ease.

  “Not necessarily. Meyers did most of the administrative work and watched over the marks until pickup. That would be my job.” I knew enough about the process Meyers used that it would be fairly easy for me to set up a similar operation here in Forest City. I didn’t have spelled cells to keep the wanted in, though, so we’d still need to use the palace prison for holding, which shouldn’t be a big deal; most of the jobs would come from the king’s guard anyway.

  “So, you won’t go on hunts anymore?”

  I smirked. “I didn’t say that. I’ll still take jobs, but most of my pay will come from the other bounty hunters. I’ll take a small cut for data gathering, distributing jobs, that sort of stuff.”

  He sat back, resting his arms on his thighs. Sweat glistened on his forehead and I felt a small pool of my own forming on my lower back.

  “It might work. We’d have to ask the king.”

  “I know.” I failed to keep the annoyance from bleeding into my voice.

  Flynn quirked his brow at me. “He’s actually pretty reasonable as far as kings go.”

  I snorted. Anyone with a crown on their head was most definitely not reasonable.

  He looked me over, noting my derision. “Maybe you should let me handle that part.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “What are friends for?” he asked, winking at me.

  “Thanks, friend.”

  He nodded, focusing once again on the weeds. We worked side by side for over an hour. A huge grin enveloped my face by the time we were finished. The house needed work but with the weeds pulled and the garden looking fresh, it was actually pretty cute.

  “Why are you smiling?” he asked, looking at me like I’d gone mad.

  Perhaps I had. “I feel good,” I said, nodding at the ground. “Weeding took forever, but we made an impact.”

  “Mrs. Draper will be happy.”

  “Who is she?” I asked.

  “A widow. Her husband passed away last year. A few of us in town agreed to help her maintain the place.” He frowned. “Though by the looks of the place, I think the others forgot their promise.”

  “I’ll help you. It’s not like I have anything else to do with my time.” I grinned at him. “Besides, what are friends for?”

  “What happened to you?” Erik asked with a laugh, wiping off a smudge of dirt from my arm when I came in the door.

  After taking off my dirty boots so I wouldn’t track mud all over the wood floor, I stepped around him to stand in the living room and smiled. My back ached slightly from crouching over for so long, but working with Flynn had made me feel rejuvenated.

  Erik’s coffee-brown eyes crinkled. “You look happy.”

  “I am.” I walked toward the bathroom, ready to rinse off the stale sweat. Erik followed close on my heels.

  “Where were you?” he asked, more curious than prying.

  I turned, beaming. “Helping someone.”

  His nose scrunched. “Who?”

  “I don’t know.” I sighed, pushing open the bathroom door and ignoring the worried look he shot me.

  “Okay . . .” he trailed off with a scoff, stopping the door with his foot and eyeing me like I’d grown another head.

  He bristled at my answering scoff, clearly annoyed I had out-scoffed his scoff.

  “Are you going to stand there and watch or close the door?” I asked, unbuttoning my shorts.

  His gaze followed my hands. “Is that an invitation?” he asked, eyes focused on the material inching down my hips.

  “No.” His gaze snapped up to mine and I fought a laugh. “Close the door.” I shucked the shorts off, not caring if he saw me in my underwear. I wasn’t ashamed of my body.

  His throat bobbed. “You’re cruel.”

  “Erik?” My fingers found the edges of my shirt.

  He looked at me with hopeful eyes. “Hmm?”

  “Close the door.” I pulled my shirt off, smiling with satisfaction when the door slammed shut and I heard him curse in the empty hallway.

  Chapter Twenty

  Noah whistled as we walked toward the widow’s house. Erik wasn’t the only one who’d noticed my happy mood yesterday. The men had bombarded me with questions during dinner, none of them appearing satisfied when I revealed I’d spent the day with Flynn. Much to my surprise, Noah offered to come with me today. I wasn’t sure what Flynn had planned, but an extra person willing to help wouldn’t hurt.

  When we arrived at the run-down cottage Flynn was nowhere in sight. A wooden ladder ran up the side of the house. Noah and I shared a look when a loud thump came from the roof. He beat me to the ladder, quickly ascending and disappearing from sight.

  I followed, taking my time. I preferred not to be a part of rooftop activities. The slanted tilt unnerved me but I’d push myself to get up there in case they needed my assistance.

  Rule number three in the unwritten rules of bounty hunters: Never reveal your weakness.

  I came to the last step of the ladder, looking over the peak.

  Noah held a large piece of flat wood. Flynn hammered in nails, expertly avoiding Noah’s fingers. Neither noticed me so I stepped back down the ladder, sighing in relief when my feet hit the grass.

  I wandered around, touching the spots on the house that needed attention. Some new paint, a new square log here and there, maybe a lighter paint for the trim.

  “What are you doing poking around my house?”

  I spun around. An older woman, quite possibly near the end of her life, with bright white hair stood in the grass behind me. Her shoulders sloped forward, causing her to hunch over. Her face held many lines. Happy ones. Like she had found a reason to laugh every day of her life. Her long nightdress fluttered when the wind blew.

  “Well?” she crooned, raising her brows at me.

  “I’m here with Flynn.”

  She wrinkled her nose at me. “Who?” she asked, voice louder than necessary.

  “Handsome face, lush brown hair most women would die for?”

  She barked a laugh. “Oh yes. The pretty one. You tell him to hush up. He’s been making all sorts of unnecessary racket.”

  Flynn dropped down to the ground. “Hey, Mrs. Draper. I’m all done banging around for today. Your roof had a pretty big hole in it.”

  I stifled a laugh when Mrs. Draper muttered something about how she doubted he’d ever be done banging around. She gave me a mischievous smirk. Noah reached the ground, wiping his hands on his pants.

  “I never gave you permission to have friends over.” Mrs. Draper narrowed her eyes at Flynn.

  “They’ve come to help. Winter helped me clean out your garden beds and Noah here just helped patch up the roof.”

  She harrumphed. “Well, don’t expect me to feed them like I do you.”

  “You think I’d share your food? I’d never do such a thing.” Flynn placed a hand over his heart, stepping closer to the woman. She flushed a deep scarlet. I guessed not even the elderly were immune to his charms.

  She patted his shoulder before hobbling back inside her house.

  “You’re a good man, Flynn. Find yourself a wife,” she called over her shoulder, winking at me.

  My mouth gaped open.

  Flynn chuckled. “Don’t worry. I told you, no girlfriends.”

  I snorted. “You’d never get so lucky.”

  Noah cleared his throat. We both looked at him, surprised we’d forgotten him.

  “I’d like to take you to breakfast.”

  “Okay.” I smiled. “That sounds great.”

  Flynn cleared his throat. “Before you g
o, I have a meeting with the royals in a few days. You should come with.”

  Noah chuckled when he saw my frown. “It won’t be that bad.”

  I wrinkled my nose at him. Most of the “royals” I had known were self-righteous, spoiled little shits. They both looked at me expectantly. Clearly I wasn’t getting out of this.

  “Fine. I’ll go.” I pointed at Flynn. “Don’t expect me to do any of the talking.”

  “Don’t worry, I know better.”

  “Come on, let’s go get some muffins.” I linked my arm with Noah’s, leaning into him. His lips spread into a breathtaking smile.

  “Careful with that one,” Flynn warned, “she’s prone to danger.”

  “I’m counting on it,” Noah said under his breath, pulling me closer. For some stupid reason my stomach fluttered.

  “Stop fidgeting.” Erik frowned at me.

  I sighed, letting go of the dress I had bought to wear on the visit to the palace. “It just doesn’t feel right.” My fingers crept up once more, grasping at the itchy straps as we walked through the market.

  People hurried along with us on their way to work. Nerves banged around in my stomach as we neared the southern edge of the city. The shops and cafés, built into or around the tree trunks, grew more refined as we walked. The muffin shop, delicious as the food may be, didn’t hold a candle to the elegant breakfast cafés.

  “You look really nice,” he said when he noticed my eyes straying over the gowns in a boutique.

  “Thanks.” I wasn’t worried about whether or not I looked nice. I was worried about being strangled by the lace halter-top straps. Thanks to another round of healing, I only had a few, barely visible scars left from my fight with the cat and Daman’s torture. Faint white teeth marks covered my biceps where the mountain lion had bit me, but they wouldn’t be noticeable unless someone spent a lot of time looking at my arm. The dress, aside from the straps, was silk. A light-yellow bodice hugged my torso while a black ribbon at the waist gave way to a pretty blue skirt. It had cost me more than I cared to admit and still it wasn’t even close to as expensive as the dresses in the shops we passed now.