Bound to the Bounty Hunter (26 page)

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.

After a conversation with Petrov this afternoon where she’d insisted she’d used his car long enough, her battered car sat beside Gemma’s Beetle at the back of the parking lot.

“Girlfriend, let’s go and slay this room.” Gemma pulled on her hand.

Sophie ran her hands down her sheer black-stocking-clad legs and adjusted her boots. “Yeah. Today Carmen from San Antonio, Texas and Pat from Birmingham, Alabama will be getting crisp hundred dollar bills from Josiah O’Connor.”

Gemma stilled. “You’re still on a mission to pay them back? Couldn’t you ask Petrov for help?”

“This is my debt.” Sophie pulled on her ponytail and gave herself a once-over in the dusty mirror. Nothing earth-shattering, but she’d do. “A debt is a debt until it isn’t.”

“That’s something Annie would say.” Gemma rolled her eyes.

Half an hour into her shift, Sophie was in full swing. Annie had arrived, hugged her, and positioned herself at the bar. Cope had hugged her until she couldn’t breathe. The bar was packed, thanks to a cage fight and girls in bikinis wrestling in Jell-O. A few locals had welcomed her back with warm smiles. Sybil had given her a running commentary on her twin toddler boys. Thanks to the bar being full, she’d be making good tips tonight. Maybe even Pongo could get that sparkly collar she’d had her eye on at Petco.

Pipe entered the bar from his office and walked straight to Sophie, who stilled.

“If you don’t bring in your car to get fixed, you’re fired.”

“I missed you, too.” She leaned in and kissed the older man’s bristly cheek. “Thanks.”

Gemma arrived breathless at the bar, plonking down her empty tray. The smile slipped off her face, and she stiffened.

“Oh no,” she breathed, her face paling.

Annie spun her head, her eyes narrowing. “Damn it.”

Sophie ignored the hairs rising on her neck and started counting shot glasses of whiskey on her tray. The table were good tippers and didn’t like to be kept waiting. “I’ll be back in three.”

She turned and froze.

At the back of the bar, Zeb and Thor leaned against the wood, unhappy looks on their faces. Zeb pushed off the wall and stalked to her, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

“Don’t ever disappear like that again.”

Thor followed Zeb. “I’ll take you shopping for appendages if you promise never to disappear.” He grinned, then his gaze flew straight to Gemma.

The red and white of a shirt coming her way caught her eye.

Go Chiefs.

She blinked.

Wait.

I know that chest
.

Harlan stopped in front of her. One second she stood staring up at him, the next the tray was back on the bar and she was plastered against his chest, his arms locked around her, his hands flexing on the back of her head.

Her hands wedged between them. She pushed against solid muscle, which made him pull her in to him until breathing became a challenge.

“Let me go.” She pushed harder, emotion tightening her throat.

“No.” He tugged the tie from her hair, which cascaded around her. He leaned in and breathed deeply. “Fucking raspberries. Thank God.”

“Let me go.” Desperation leaked into her voice.

“I can’t.”

She pushed out the truth. “I don’t want this.”

His fingers flexed against the back of her neck. “You want this,” his voice a hoarse whisper.

“I don’t.” She dragged the words out of her heart. “Stop telling me what I want instead of
listening
to what
I
want.”

“Don’t do this, Sophie,” he growled.

“It’s done.” Regret tinged her words. “I need a man who’ll guard my heart no matter what the cost to his bottom line.”

He released her, and she moved back a foot.

“What are you wearing?” Sophie asked before she could stop herself.

“It’s blistering me as we speak.”

Deeper lines had curved around his dull blue eyes. Dark stubble peppered his pale and haggard face. For just a moment, she thought maybe he regretted what he’d lost.

“We need to talk.” He gripped her elbow.

And just like that, same old Harlan, right on cue.

“You had your chance to talk, many, many times.” She pulled out of his grip.

“Fuck, Sophie, these last days without you were the darkest of my life.” He pulled her close and, before she could react, he leaned in and scented her neck.

Her body did a full shiver. The unmistakable current that ran between them hadn’t dimmed.

“The connection between us runs deep,” he growled.

She nodded. “And it always will, but I need more than a physical connection.”

He dug his hands through his hair. “I fucked up. I didn’t let you in. I’m sorry. You started out as an assignment, but we became more than that, and you know it.”

She crossed her arms. “After I shared
everything
you still didn’t trust me, wouldn’t talk to me.” Her voice shook, but she pressed forward. “Most of my life I’ve been inadvertently involved in a con. I just never picked you as the biggest con man of all.”

“Sophie.” Pipe arrived at her side.

“It’s okay, Pipe. Harlan and I are done, but thanks.” She moved out of Harlan’s reach.

“We’re not fucking done.” Harlan glared at her.

“Yes, we are. For once,
you
need to listen to
me
. Done. Done. Done.” With shaking hands Sophie picked up the tray of whiskey shots and delivered them to the table to find all eyes were glued on her. Heat raced up her chest and stained her cheeks. “Better than the Newmans and Abbots on a good day.”

She ignored the pissed vibe from behind her and carried on working the bar.

“Proud of you,” Annie whispered when Sophie walked past. Gemma squeezed her shoulder, and Pipe gave her a sharp nod.

Sophie didn’t need to turn to know that Harlan had left the building, her internal radar letting her know the instant he walked out the door.

“They’ve gone.” Gemma arrived breathless at the bar.

“We have to have a girls’ night, because Zeb needs to stay gone. He’s not getting the message.” Annie downed the last of her water, her long nails drumming the bar.

“Same with Thor.” Gemma gave no explanation, but Sophie noticed her anxious expression and the way she kept touching her ear.

“Tomorrow night. My place. We’ll hash out plans over margaritas,” Annie said, a determined look on her face.

At the end of her shift, Sophie stacked the last of the glasses in the dishwasher, then finished wiping down the tables. Gemma and Cope were restocking the bar. After weeks away and having basically nixed any form of exercise apart from walking Pongo, who walked slower than a sloth, the muscles in her arms, shoulders, and chest were dripping off her bones.

Pipe arrived at her side with Pongo, the latter delirious with excitement, popping sounds filling the air.

“I’ll walk you to your car.” Pipe kept hold of her dog’s leash.

She nodded. Too tired, mentally and physically, all she wanted was to crawl into her bed and sleep for a week.

The unexpected encounter with Harlan tonight had shaken her more than she’d admit. Still, it was done. He was gone from her life.

Pipe clipped Pongo into his seatbelt, and her car only needed five turnovers to start.

“Tomorrow, bring in your car. I mean it.” Pipe barked.

“I can’t pay you.”

“I don’t care, bring it in.”

Sophie nodded and gave him a wave. Tomorrow she’d turn up early at her job, but she would be paying Pipe.

Without remembering how she got there, she pulled into her driveway. A chill wind whipped her hair when she stepped from her car. She flicked her finger across her phone, and the flashlight beam activated. She spun in a slow circle checking out the area. All the good folk of the neighborhood were tucked in bed.

“Good to be home, Pong.”

Her dog danced on his leash.

“Okay, okay, you’ll be in your bed before you know it.” She ruffled his head and waited while he did his business in record-breaking time, for once not having to sniff every blade of grass four hundred times before selecting the
one
.

Her fingers skimmed over the alarm code.

She opened the door and pulled her dog inside, threw the locks, then flicked the lights for the living room.

Nothing.

Weird
.
Bulb must be out.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and flicked on the flashlight function again, then headed toward the kitchen.

Pongo whined at her feet. An explosive string of farts erupted.

“Jeez, Pong, what’s with you?”

Pongo yanked on his leash, a deep, raw growl rooting Sophie to the spot.

“Seraphina.”

The lamp on her desk flicked on.

Sophie tried to swallow but couldn’t.

Standing beside her desk, holding a damaged snow globe with a knife through the middle, stood Babic, his chilled eyes locked on her, impeccably dressed in a dark silver suit, a white rose in his lapel. A smile that a clown wouldn’t wear twisted his face, a white dress draped over his arm.