Bound to the Bounty Hunter (27 page)

“I’ve been waiting a long time.” His voice sent a spasm up her spine.

Pongo sat at her feet, still growling, farting every time Babic spoke.

“Over the years I’ve been the one groomed to take over Petrov’s empire. When my parents died, Petrov took me in and trained me to be him. That night I saw you at Hostage…”

“What do you want?” She tried to lick her lips, but moisture had deserted her apart from the icy sweat clinging to her brow.

“You, Seraphina. I want you. I thought you’d taken my dream away from me, but I realized
we
can have it all.” He held up the dress. “Tonight you will be my bride. With you by my side as my wife, Petrov dead, going back to the way the company used to be run before Petrov lost his balls.”

With lightning reflexes Babic moved across the room toward her. Pongo lunged at him. Babic kicked out hard, sending Pongo flying through the air before landing with a whimpered thump in the corner.

When she went to move, Babic’s hand landed on her shoulder, his fingers digging deep. She cried out in pain, desperate to get to her dog.

Babic’s eyes flicked to where Pongo lay. “It is only a dog. Who cares?” His soulless eyes flicked back to Sophie. Babic ran his knuckle down her face, and she fought the shudder of revulsion.

“I should have taken you the first night I saw you. Made you mine. I nearly had you at the strip club; my men were close until Franco moved in. He had no right to touch you.” He yanked hard on her hair, snapping her head backward until she cried in pain. “He will never touch you again.”

“Have you hurt him?” she croaked. Her throat closed, and her heart twisted painfully that Harlan was bleeding out in a gutter. Or worse.

“Not yet.” He smiled, showing white veneers. His hot sour breath sent bile clawing up her throat.

“Mick won’t be hurting you again. I had a man at Pipe’s who saw him try to hurt you.” He smiled, and Sophie’s heart plunged. “Nobody hurts what is mine.”

“You’re mad,” she whispered.

“Not mad. Only taking what’s rightfully mine.” He pulled harder on her hair, and she swallowed a whimper. “Tonight I come for my trophy.”

He walked her into the kitchen. “Perhaps we shall drink a toast. What would be better than to have Petrov’s daughter as my queen. Did you like the snow globes? They are all the places that we will see together.”

He leaned down and pressed his mouth against hers in a quick, cold, wet kiss. She pressed her lips together and tried to turn away. With her head pulled back and her scalp on fire, she couldn’t see anything that could be used as a weapon. She did a quick mental image of the room.

Her hand gripped the counter, then flew over the surface, coming to rest on a coffee mug. For once, Harlan hadn’t been the sitcom mom and had left it for later. In one quick motion, she swung the mug toward Babic’s head and connected hard. He grunted once then let her go.

With her heart beating out of her throat, Sophie skirted sideways to the knife block and hoped like hell that Harlan had patiently stacked the knives in the block instead of throwing them in a drawer like she did. Her hand wrapped around a handle. A scream in her chest died when two hands gripped her throat, hard. The knife clattered to the ground.

“Maybe I should take what is mine, now.” One hand moved to the front of her jeans and yanked down her fly.

Oh God, no
.

Huge black spots appeared in front of her eyes. Struggling to breathe, she kicked backward, her heavy boot connecting with bone. The fingers on her throat loosened.

“Sophie. Get down!”

Sophie dropped to the ground in a crouch, blood roaring through her veins the only sound as she gasped for breath.

There was a thud, then Babic collapsed to the floor.

She pulled cable ties from where she kept four that lined her bra, stumbled to Babic and restrained him, grunting when she pulled the last tie into place. She looked down at the object lying by his head and blinked in surprise.

Harlan walked to her side, staring down at Babic, and grinned. “Watching you hog-tie a man gets me hard.” His face darkened when he looked at her neck. “Should have killed the fucker.”

Harlan’s unmistakable scent threatened to undo her, but she regrouped. She hauled Babic into a sitting position, who opened one eye and snarled at her. She pulled the cable tie tighter until Babic hissed.

Sophie bent and picked up the snow globe. Antarctic penguins lay abandoned on silvery tinsel. The door of the cabinet that held the globes was thrown open.

Harlan glanced down at the snow globe. “Sorry about that.” Harlan scratched his head. “Not a bad idea, though, collecting these things from the places we visit together.”

She stilled.

He walked toward her, his eyes never leaving her face. “Us in Kona, you in a bikini, me rubbing oil
everywhere
.”

Her nipples tightened.

“A log cabin in the Rockies in winter. Snow. A roaring fire. You naked.”

“You’d walk into a shop that sells snow globes and not expire?” she asked. Her mouth and her brain needed a sit-down to clarify that the topic of Harlan Franco was banned.

He held up his hands. “Can’t promise anything, could lose my man card, though.” He frowned. “I’ve got to get this shit off. It’s a wonder I haven’t combusted on the spot.” He ripped the Chiefs shirt from his body. “Thank Christ.”

She stared at a line of cursive lettering under his heart.

Oh my God
.

Her hand flew to her throat. At her expression he touched the new line of ink.

“Told you I had nothing worthy to ink on my body.” He paused. “Until you.”

Sophie stared at her name, her face slack.

Harlan enveloped her in a hug. “I love you,” he murmured against her ear. “Love you more than I thought I could love another person.” He paused. “I’m committed to us, which is why your name is inked on my heart forever.”

She laid her head against his chest, choked with a mixture of longing and confusion, falling deeper into this complicated man.

“I thought you didn’t do that level of commitment.”

He cupped her chin with one hand and angled her face toward his. “For you, I do.”

Pongo waddled over, sat beside Babic, and proceeded to let out a string of nerve-agent farts.

“Good boy,” she whispered as Harlan shuffled them out of the way.

“You promise to let me take charge of every situation?” Harlan said.

She went to pull back, but his fingers flexed against her head. “No.”

“Good.”

He rested his forehead against hers.

“I’ll probably fuck up. I’ve never had this, never wanted this, but I need this. Need us.”

Sophie stood on a precipice. She could walk away and lead the safe life she’d always craved with a man who’d guard her heart and who’d she come to cherish. Or, she could go toe-to-toe with this exhausting man every day. A man who made her feel more than she ever thought she’d feel.

“Sophie?”

She looked into Harlan’s tortured face and opened her mouth.

Epilogue

Six weeks later

Gemma poured margarita into Sophie’s glass, Annie beside her. They sat outside in Sophie’s courtyard, at one of the two newly varnished hardwood tables. Hurricane lamps sat in even rows. Fairy lights strung through trees made silvery shadows across the ground.

Thursday night at Titus’s now included Gemma, Annie, and most of Harlan’s crew. Pipe had made a fifteen-minute appearance, eaten a sausage, then left. Much to Sophie’s delight, Beth and her husband, Robert, walked through the front door, Danielle beside them, cradling Hannah.

“I’ll be back.” Sophie put down her glass.

Danielle walked straight to Sophie and hugged her. “Thank you.” Hannah gurgled on her shoulder.

“Nice to see you.” She squeezed Danielle’s hand, her vision blurry.

“Look at us crying like we’re watching a Nicholas Sparks movie.” Beth joined in the hug.

Titus, along with Petrov and Clarence, manned the brand-spanking-new barbecue. DeMilo and his mother and sister played with Pongo. The scent of chicken, burgers, and crisp salad filled the warm air.

Petrov turned and grinned, holding a sausage in a tong.

Sophie smiled back.

Petrov was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. Sophie didn’t think a backyard barbecue would be up his alley, but he loved “Backyard Thursday.”

He came around for dinner at least once a week as they got to know each other. Sophie had made it clear from the beginning that she didn’t want his wealth, just wanted a father and daughter relationship. She’d been firm that Harlan was in her life, and he’d smiled at her and said “good,” because he didn’t want anything to do with a clusterfuck.

Life had turned out better than she’d ever imagined. Babic was facing a long list of charges including murder, attempted abduction, breaking and entering, and cruelty to animals. In jail he’d had a psychiatric breakdown. Somewhere in Babic’s mind he believed that Petrov had killed his parents and by taking Sophie, he’d take what meant the most to Petrov. Petrov had been stunned, unaware of the hate that had been bubbling in Babic for years. He’d only ever taken pity on an orphan. The doctor had some name for it. Sophie just wanted him in prison for a long time.

Harlan materialized at her side.

“Found the journal yet?” She grinned up at him.

He shot her a tight smile.

“No, but I will.”

“Sure you will.” She leaned up and kissed his jaw.

They’d argued about O’Connor’s debt. Harlan had insisted that
he’d
be paying them back. Sophie had compromised and made a bet—if he could find her father’s journal using only old-fashioned detective work, then maybe they could pay them back together.

To date, the journal remained hidden.

“Love you, Soph.” His lips grazed hers.

She never tired of hearing him say it. The words slid across her soul like a purr.

“Love you, too.”

She never tired of saying the words she meant with her heart and watching his face go all soft, like he’d inhaled them and swished them around his body before letting the words settle in his heart.

“Are you margarita’d?” His lips grazed the back of her neck.

“Getting there, why?” She leaned her head back, knowing he’d scent her neck, which she’d come to understand was his way of saying she belonged to him. His hot tongue on her skin scorched her blood.

“I love fucking you when you’re half margarita’d. You’re soft and pliable and let me run with what I want, and tonight I want. A lot.”

She chuckled. “I let you
think
I’m soft and pliable. All the while I’m getting you to do what I want you to do.”

His hand brushed against her heart, and she winced.

“Still hurt?”

“Yeah, but it’s getting better.” She grinned up at him. “I’d do it all again tomorrow.”

He pulled her to him and crushed his mouth to hers.

His name inked in cursive under her heart matched her name on his. When she’d taken off the bandage, he’d stared at his name inked on her body, stalked to her, picked her up, and barely made it to the bed before he expertly removed her clothes and made love to her.

“Guess this means we’re stuck together for life.”

“On that note.” He pulled a box from his pocket. His face apprehensive.

Sophie stared open-mouthed. Gemma squealed behind her. She vaguely heard Zeb chuckle, and it sounded like Titus clapping his hands and telling Sally something. Her whole focus was on Harlan.

“Sophie Seraphina Callaghan Petrov, will you marry me?”

Sophie held her breath as Harlan slipped an emerald ring—her birthstone—onto her finger. It twinkled in the afternoon sun.

“Thought we’d honeymoon in Paris. Not the hotel in Vegas, but the one in France. Maybe get a snow globe.”

Sophie stared at the ring, tears filling her eyes.

“Sophie?” Harlan’s strangled voice pulled her out of her head. “I thought asking you in front of our family and friends would be the way to go, but if this is too much, or you don’t want to marry me…”

She looked into his tortured face. Silence had captured the crowd. She looked around at her family. Annie clutched Zeb’s bicep. Gemma, with tears streaming down her face, gripped Thor’s hand. Her dad looked ready to scoop her up and take her away. Titus with his glistening eyes, held Sally’s hand, which he also patted.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Yes this is too much or yes…” Harlan’s voice trailed.

“Yes to everything.”

“Thank fuck.” Harlan pulled her into his body and kissed the top of her head.

“I love you, Harlan.” She smiled into his chest.

“Love you more.”

“Girl, we’ve got some planning to do.” Annie arrived at her side, wiping her eyes. “We’ve got some serious dress shopping and cake tasting afternoons ahead.” She smiled, and Sophie knew she was doomed. “Shoes, Sophie, we’ve got to go shoe shopping.”

“Flowers,” Gemma said, hugging Sophie. “Cute things for the tables.”

Sophie paused. “Will you be my bridesmaids?”

“Try and keep us away. We’re family.” Annie squeezed in and the three of them hugged. “Besides, we’re going to throw you a kick-ass bachelorette party in Vegas. I’ve got The Thunder from Down Under on speed dial.”

Sophie laughed when Harlan growled beside her. Annie and Gemma moved away, already planning.

Her father gave her a quick, nervous hug. “You’ve got terrible taste in men.”

Harlan clapped him on the shoulder, laughing. “Love you, too, Pops.”

She clasped her dad’s hand. “Would you walk me down the aisle?”

“I’d be honored,” he said, gruffly wiping his eyes. He thumped Harlan on the back then moved away.

“Zebadiah, Israel, and I will be running your bachelor party.” Titus hugged her, then hugged Harlan. “I figure we’ve got all the guests’ needs met. I can introduce the young folk to fly-fishing.”

Sophie smiled at her friends who were now her and Harlan’s family.

Harlan’s lips grazed hers. “Felt that shiver.” He touched his lip to her earlobe. “You’re bound to me,” he whispered.

“Bound to the bounty hunter.” She smiled up at him. “For life.”

The man Sophie knew as Dug, who’d long given up thinking or caring about his birth name, adjusted the lens on his camera from where he sat in a utility van at the end of the street. If he passed Sophie or any of her crew, he doubted they’d recognize him. Different hair. Different colored eyes. Different everything.

Same shit inside.

A phone buzzed on the seat beside him. He flicked it open and waited for the monotone voice to chant the code. He punched in the response of the day and was put through to his handler.

“You were supposed to be here an hour ago,” his handler of the week said in a dismissive, “I’ve got a way higher education than you so don’t fuck with me” kind of voice.

“I’ll get there when I do.” He threw the phone on the seat.

Fucking government handlers.

He’d trusted a handler once, never again. They now got what they needed. He took the paycheck and moved on. Next town. Next assignment. Until Sophie, he’d thought that’s all he wanted. He’d have left the service for her. Taken a chance. Turns out she wasn’t his.

Franco was one lucky fucker.

He leaned back in his car and watched the stream of people entering Sophie’s open front door. A tall, built, blond guy hauled a slab of Coors on his shoulder and disappeared into the house. Israel Anatole, Franco’s comms man. A tall dark-haired woman, wearing jeans and a T-shirt stood outside the house looking uncertain. Arabella Tennyson. Another of Franco’s comms geniuses. He hadn’t seen her before, knew her by file notes only. She turned and looked straight at him.

A memory out of left field smacked him, hard. Two kids had been beating on a young girl. He’d stepped in and intervened. She’d hung around him and even tried to kiss him, but he’d sent her away, harshly, embarrassed by the attention of a fifteen-year-old girl to his eighteen-year-old self.

He stared harder through the windshield.

Jesus, it couldn’t be her. Looked like the promise of what that fifteen-year-old girl could be had grown into a beautiful woman, but that girl’s name wasn’t Arabella.

He’d run into Franco last week, on purpose and on the down low, he’d told Franco that they’d been monitoring the rumbling they’d heard regarding a threat to Petrov. The US government did not want his shipping routes to be used for anything but legit services. Sophie came up on their radar after they’d intercepted Babic’s phone, and he’d mentioned her and the possible connection to Petrov. She was on his watch to make sure she wasn’t used as collateral against Petrov.

Franco had thanked him and told him if he ever wanted out from the government, he was always on the lookout for a good operative, and there’d always be a job working alongside him.

Arabella or the girl he knew as Mia turned, tripped on something, and walked through Franco’s door.

The burner phone buzzed beside him again.

Time to become another person.

Time to lose another piece of himself to the job.

The sound of laughter filtered through.

Unless…

Unless
.

He exited the car and headed toward Sophie’s.

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