Bound to the Bounty Hunter (13 page)

“That’s Thor,” Sophie said, perched on Annie’s black leather sofa sipping a margarita.

Sophie snagged one of Gemma’s devils on horseback and popped it into her mouth.

Annie walked back from the fridge, a frosty jug of margarita mix in her hand. As she sat on the floor, a black, ancient-looking cat materialized and curled on her lap.

Annie stroked the cat, her vivid green eyes on Sophie. “You have holy hotness driving you home from Pipe’s. Thor is parked on my street. Girl—”

“You forgot the dude who accompanied her here. Tall, dark, and built. My underwear melted looking at him.” Gemma twirled her glass and sat opposite Sophie. “He only had eyes for Soph.”

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Annie said.

She shifted in her chair. Both Annie and Gemma stared at her, Annie with an eyebrow cocked.

Could she do this?

Sweat rolled down her back. She wiped clammy hands down her jeans. She could make her excuses and slip out the door, or take a chance.

“Wow,” Gemma said ten minutes later.

Annie topped Sophie’s cocktail glass. “That’s some life story you’ve got there.”

“So, to clarify my margarita haze.” Gemma held up her glass, which Annie refilled. “Your father—I note that you never call him ‘Daddy,’ a preacher, died having had an obsession with Vladimir Petrov. You met Harlan at Hostage where you melted into Mr. Tall, Dark and—”

“Control Freak.” Sophie held up her hand, surprised Gemma had noticed she didn’t refer to her father as her dad. That had stopped when she’d found out the truth about him.

“I think you’ve both got a bit of that going on, but let me continue, where you wowed Harlan with your party trick, which you need to teach me by the way,” said Annie.

Gemma held up her hand. “Hang on. Bad dudes in the form of mercenaries tried to take you at a strip joint, and Harlan moved into your home after you made a bet about equipment where he claimed he’s going to have you for one night.” Gemma stared at a spot on the wall, her brow crinkled. “He’s pointed out he doesn’t do relationships and he has a stable of small, blond, and submissive women. You’re working at Pipe’s because you’re helping out your neighbor.” Gemma waved a hand. “Oh, I can add to your story. Dug has been asking when you’ll next be on shift. Me thinks he has it baaaad. He’s cute.”

Sophie said nothing, feeling the eyes of Annie assessing her.

So she’d left out a few details.

“That pretty much covers it.” Sophie popped another devil on horseback into her mouth, ignoring the Dug comment. “These are fantastic, by the way,” she said, squirming under Annie’s relentless stare.

“Prunes wrapped in bacon…who knew?” Gemma grinned at her.

“That’s everything?” Annie asked, looking skeptical.

“Yep.” She stared back at Annie who, after a long beat, nodded.

“Get Harlan out of your life and move on.” Annie sipped her drink. “He’s not the one for you, Soph.”

Before Sophie could answer, Gemma held up her hand.

“I disagree.” Gemma crunched down on Pringles. “Sure he’s got issues, but don’t we all.” She stared pointedly at Annie. “Give him time.”

“Forever the optimist,” Annie said under her breath.

“Forever the pessimist.” Gemma shot her a sunny smile.

Annie laughed.

The love and friendship between the two women sparkled.

“I’m thinking we need a girls’ night out. A proper girls’ night out. At Hostage.” Annie said. “Where we get all dressed up and wear
wristbands
.”

“Wristbands,” Gemma breathed. She leaned forward, her golden eyes bright. “Come to my place first.”

The answer “no” on her lips, Annie unexpectedly squeezed her hand.

“I won’t go unless you do.”

“Which means I’ll have to go on my own,” Gemma said, picking up her glass. “And take my chances.”

Damn
.

Gemma would never survive Hostage on her own.

Her head swung between the two. Annie’s lips twitched, and Gemma flat-out smiled at her.

“If I give you an address can you pick me up?”

Gemma nodded.

Annie stared at her and nodded once. “Next week we’re going through your finances. I’m a financial whiz,” Annie said.

“She is,” Gemma said, breaking the tension. “Don’t ever play her in Monopoly.

“No, that’s all right.” Sophie tightened the band of her ponytail. If Annie was a financial whiz she’d have to explain the withdrawals of money, and that would mean explaining her father and his fleecing-the-needy scheme, something she’d only talk about in the afterlife to her father in a loud, painful conversation.

“Thursday’s my night off so this works well.” A gleam came into Gemma’s eye when she scanned Sophie’s face. “There’s something I’ve been dying to do.”

…

Harlan walked into Babic’s office, not feeling over friendly about the text message he’d received summoning him. Still, good to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, and get this aired.

Babic was on his mobile, rapid barking in Russian. He’d glanced at Harlan when he’d knocked and walked into his office. Harlan’s jaw clenched at the dismissive look on Babic’s face. Harlan sat across from Babic and took in the office, looking for a glimpse into the man. A huge desk dominated the room in an open-layout warehouse. The sound of huge rigs backing in accompanied by the sharp beeps and the whir of forklifts and male voices scrambled the air. Petrov ran trucking operations using Colorado as his hub. This was the first in a group of warehouses that lined the street. Petrov’s distinctive logo of a dark blue cursive
P
painted on large sliding doors.

A map of the world covered one side of the wall in Babic’s office. Different colored pins stabbed countries. Gray, generic filing cabinets hugged a wall. A picture of Babic and Petrov with their arms flung across each other’s shoulders, standing in front of a massive cargo ship, sat in a solid silver frame on the desk. Babic had stopped speaking, but Harlan kept looking around the room.

Harlan hadn’t been shocked at Babic’s words. Babic was the one who had told Petrov about Sophie. From what he’d observed in meetings, the man had all the warmth of a cyborg. He also hadn’t been unduly concerned by Babic’s tone—it was how the man spoke. But it had freaked Sophie out. She’d jolted as if she’d been stabbed deep in the gut. Her face had paled and she’d visibly trembled before locking down her reaction and fleeing like a herd of religious folk were trying to turn her.

Interesting.

Still, what had he meant when he’d said she’d get what she deserved? Time to find out.

He stared hard at the man across from him, noting he’d make the high-rollers table at Vegas where he’d probably win a shitload. Nothing moved on Babic’s face. His eyes, a light blue, were striking against his pale skin. He always dressed well; today was an expensive, handmade Italian suit.

“You will bring me every file you have on Sophie Callaghan and if she is Seraphina or not.” Babic barked at him.

Interesting development. Babic was in charge while Petrov was out of communication range, but he’d never been instructed by Petrov to hand over case files. Harlan shifted in his chair, buying time, trying to figure out Babic’s angle.

The man at the club who liked to have the shit whipped out of him until he bled was a complete contrast to the man who sat across from him. Babic was feared and respected as Petrov’s right-hand man. If you fucked with either of them, Babic would deal with you personally.

“Petrov has instructed me to only pass files to him.”

It was well known that Petrov was grooming Babic to take over his operations when he eventually retired and went to live on his island in Fiji or sail the globe in a super yacht. Judging by the photo, the two men were tight. Harlan had no reason to question the man’s loyalty.

Babic leaned back in his chair. “It is I who am in charge when he is not here, and I want to review the files.”

No one knew about the exact relationship between the two. Something had happened in Russia to Babic’s parents and Petrov had stepped in and taken an interest in the boy. Petrov had paid for Babic’s education. He’d started out in the Eastern European block countries, but had proven himself a valuable asset, so Petrov had promoted him to the USA. There’d been a lot of speculation over the years, but no proof. It was rumored he was Petrov’s secret son, an illegitimate child of a member of his wife’s family.

Babic leaned forward, his fingers steepled, a smile on his face that didn’t meet his eyes. “I think it is time we move this forward. You are living at her place, are you not? Is it hard living with her?”

Harlan leaned back, keeping his posture intentionally loose.

If they were referring to his dick as the “it” then yeah, he spent most of the time with balls so blue they were practically violet.

Harlan grinned, testing the man. “Yeah,
it
gets real hard.”

Something flashed across Babic’s face and the fine hairs raised on the back of Harlan’s neck.

“Are you married?” Harlan asked, fishing. “Got a long-term girl or guy?” Harlan held up his hand in mock surrender. “Doesn’t worry me.”

“There is a woman…”

The man was so emotionless it wouldn’t surprise Harlan to crank open his head and find a bunch of microchips and circuitry instead of flesh and blood.

Sophie Callaghan will get what she deserves
. The line flashed through Harlan’s brain. “Do you have anything on Sophie that can push this case through to its conclusion?”

Babic shrugged a shoulder casually, but a small tic started to vibrate under his left eye. “No, I know nothing about Sophie Callaghan.”

Harlan nodded once then stood.

“Your case notes.” Babic also stood, his hands behind his back.

Harlan looked at him hard. “If Petrov gives the all clear, I’ll have one of my people deliver the file, but until then, I take my instructions from Petrov only.”

Babic’s top lip curled slightly, he then nodded once, picked up his phone, punched in numbers and turned his back, dismissing Harlan, who noted the slight tremor in Babic’s hand.

Harlan walked out into a gray, blustery day. The wind held a hint of a storm. The street vibrated in a low hum as trucks rolled into the compound. There was something about Babic that Harlan couldn’t put his finger on. Harlan unlocked his car and sat, trying to pinpoint what it was, but could find nothing concrete. He started the car and headed back to Sophie’s.

…

“I think I’ve had too much margarita,” Sophie said. She’d blushed and giggled at “Hello Handsome.” Screams and laughter had filled the room when she’d brought out the Spanky’s bag and the Silver Bullet vibrator. Annie had showed off her collection, which could fill an adult catalog.

Sophie stood, and the room moved with her. “I should get a cab,” she said, reaching for her bag and missing.

“Stay the night,” Annie said. “Both of you can. There’s a spare room and I can make up a bed on the couch.”

“I’ve got to do the books for Pipe first thing. Family first,” Gemma said.

“He’s family?” Sophie choked.

Gemma grinned. “Yeah. He hates me calling him Uncle Marcus at work.”

After digesting that information, her brain sluggishly remembered Annie’s question. “I can’t either. I’d hate to think of poor old Thor standing out there all night. He probably has a lovely Viking girlfriend named Heidi tucked away. I’d hate to deprive her of him.”

“I’ll call the cab.” Annie reached into her bag for her phone.

Ten minutes later, Sophie walked outside with Annie and Gemma, waved at Thor, and stumbled to the cab, ignoring Thor’s string of swear words. She fell into the cab and gave the driver her address. Back at her house, she paid the man and stumbled to her front door.

“Where’d I put the keys?” She blinked at the beam of neon white that flooded the front door when she approached. “Oh, here they are.” She grabbed her key ring and tried to insert a key into the lock. The door opened as she leaned forward. She stumbled, falling into a solid chest.

Sophie grabbed a fistful of T-shirt. “I’m going to miss how you smell.”

“You caught a cab? Jesus, Sophie, I should put you over my knee.” Harlan slung an arm across her shoulder and pulled her into her house. “You’re drunk.”

She ignored his statement about putting her over his knee, because she kind of did want that, but not to be spanked. “No I’m not. I’m margarita’d. First time ever.” She tried to focus. “Why are you still here?”

“I’ll get you a glass of water.” Harlan’s amused voice infiltrated the margarita crowding her brain.

“I think I’ll go to bed.” She leaned her cheek against his chest. Warm, hard and soft, it ticked all the boxes. “Here’s good.”

The next minute he cradled her to his chest, she felt the floor move, then she was lying on something soft.

“No.” She clawed her way out of the bed, her knees hitting the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Prayers. I can’t go to bed without saying my prayers. I’ll say one for you.”

She clasped her hands, dropped her head, and said her prayers, ending with hoping Harlan found peace.

“Thanks for praying for my immortal soul and all, but I’m good with where I am.” Harlan’s amused voice permeated her haze.

She frowned.

“I think only the Dalai Lama and the Pope have that sewn up. The rest of us struggle.”

He paused before answering, “You don’t have peace?”

She shook her head.

Not until every single person had been paid back, which now included Vladimir Petrov.

She sank into the mattress and closed her eyes, halfway to dreamland. Her boots were pulled off, then her socks. When a hand reached for her jeans zipper, she batted it away.

“No.” She forced her eyes open to find Harlan staring down at her.

“You can’t sleep in jeans.”

“Oh, it’s you. That’s okay. I’m not a woman to you.” She lifted her butt slightly, giving him access to her jeans.

She thought she witnessed a white-lipped mouth, but keeping her eyes open had become an industrial problem. Even stranger, she thought she heard her boots being thrown against the wall.

…

Harlan sat on the bed in Sophie’s spare room. Petrov had called and was now in a better spot for communication—just—although the line was prone to be filled with static at random times. He gave Petrov a quick update with minimal facts over an unsecured line. A detailed written report would follow, encrypted and sent electronically. He didn’t mention the meeting with Babic, preferring to do that in person. In the meantime, his people had been turning over every rock they could looking for Mick, but, so far, they had nothing.