NaturesBounty (5 page)

Nate dragged a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. The
ironic turn in conversation would have been damn funny if he hadn’t just
stuffed his tool in the wrong box. Even while he was busy berating himself,
however, part of his brain was busy registering the fact that she’d called him
“twelve kinds of fucking hot as hell”.

“Right back at you,” he muttered.

Once the door closed behind her, the bounty hunter set to
work. He slipped over to the bathroom door to listen and make sure the bathroom
story wasn’t some ruse so she could grab a gun or escape a third-story bathroom
window. He heard the toilet lid lift and the sound of peeing.

The single bedroom was visible from here, as was the double
bed. The bedding was short enough to see clearly underneath, and he bent down
to make sure no one was hiding there. Probably something he should have done
before fucking the hell out of a woman with his back turned to the hallway, but
should-have-dones were piling up in a long list.

He slipped inside a room that was sparsely furnished in a
psychedelic orange-and-green color scheme.

“Groovy,” he whispered.

There was a small closet with a closed door, which didn’t
make him happy. How many times had he dragged jumpers or their housemates out
of a closet?

Grabbing a letter opener from the top of a bright-green
dresser, he moved in utter silence across the room and then yanked open the
closet door. It was almost empty and devoid of any hidden suspects.

He heard the toilet flush just as he was tiptoeing back up
the hall. He shucked his jacket, shirt and tie on the way and traded them for a
black t-shirt he pulled from the duffel bag. He took out his badge, which was
hanging from a beaded chain, and put it around his neck. Then he managed to
extract the handcuffs that should have come out instead of his cock. He was
twirling them around his finger when she finally emerged from the bathroom.

Lydia’s hair had been pulled up into a high ponytail, and
from the length of time he’d heard the sink running, he’d be willing to wager
she’d brushed her teeth as well.

She stopped and cocked her head at the change in his attire.
“I’d say it’s a definite costume improvement, but I’m not entirely sure what
you’re supposed to be now.”

He stopped spinning the handcuffs. “Come over here and find
out.”

She wandered closer and eyed him up and down. His body
tingled on high alert while she came toward him. The front door was on her left
and the fire escape on her right. If she tried to run now, she’d most likely
turn tail and head back down the hallway, right into a dead end. Which was why
he had chosen this exact spot.

He counted until she was four steps away, then three. “I’m a
surety agent.”

Confusion crossed her features. “What the heck is that?”

“You know, a bounty hunter.”

Her eyes actually lit up eagerly at this news. Another
first. “Ooh, I think I like the sound of that.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He stepped closer and held out the
badge hanging over his chest. “Turn around and get on your knees. Hands on the
back of your head.”

Her eyebrows lifted, but not only did she obey, she did it
with a smile on her beautiful face. Holy shit, maybe he was onto something with
this ploy. Not that he would be hunting down any more jumpers after this.
Figures he’d get the perfect angle just in time for the last job.

“Aren’t you going to play some music or something for this
routine?” she asked.

His day had gotten so damn weird.

He went into restraining maneuvers, guiding her facedown
easy while he put a knee to her back. When he was cuffing one of the wrists
that were still on top of her head, that’s when she finally got squirrely about
the whole thing.

“Wait,” she said, struggling against him. “You know what?
Stop. I don’t actually want to get handcuffed. I have bad memories of that.”

“I’ll bet you do.” He pulled the cuffed hand down behind her
back and brought the other one around to join it.

“Don’t! I mean it, Antoine. Stop.”

“I thought you were so eager to see the job I came here to
do?” He held the badge in front of her face. “And my name’s Nate, actually. I’m
a real bounty hunter. And you, Lydia Franklin, are under arrest for violating the
terms of your bail.”

She was struggling wildly now, but with her hands cuffed
behind her and his weight on her back, there wasn’t much she could do. “Like
hell! What are you talking about?”

“You failed to appear in court. I’m authorized to bring you
back to Colorado.”

“No.
No!
You bastard.”

There was the reaction he knew was coming. The one he dealt
with every time it came to this moment in his job.

“This can’t be true,” she went on, trying to buck him off
her. “Valerie
hired
you to strip for me. She told me so. She wouldn’t do
this to me.”

He growled and leaned on her harder. “Stop fighting me, or
I’ll have to put you in a hold you definitely won’t like.”

“Fuck you,” she said. “Get the hell off me, you sick freak.
You’re lying about this.”

“I have the paperwork from your bondsman if you need proof.
It includes a clause you signed stating you were aware he could use any means
necessary to reclaim you.
Any
means, Ms. Franklin. And that’s just what
I did.”

When she started fighting harder, he jammed her cuffed hands
high on her back.

“Ouch!” She followed that with several expletives. “You’re
breaking my arms!”

“Settle the fuck down or you’re going to get hurt. Don’t be
stupid, Lydia. Cooperate nicely and you won’t add any more charges to the ones
you’ve already got stacked against you.”

“Cooperate? What, I suppose you mean let you fuck me again?
You told me you were a stripper! You had
sex
with me. Isn’t that
illegal?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I’m not a peace officer, and
you were more than willing. A
lot
more.” He got up off her back, but
kept his hold on her. “Get up slowly now.” He pulled gently, using techniques
he’d learned to guide her in the direction he wanted.

With some difficulty, he maneuvered her to the couch, where
she plopped down and favored him with a glare. Much as he expected, the
expression he’d memorized earlier was long gone. This version of Lydia was
red-faced, panting and pissed beyond belief. All her resistance had shaken one
of her tits completely out of her bikini top, and the other one was attempting
an escape as well.

“So, you’re a
real
bounty hunter,” she said with a
note of sarcasm. “Or is this just a side job when you’re not doing private
shows on the stripper circuit?”

He sighed. “The stripper thing was a cover story so you’d
let me in.”

“How resourceful.”

“Would you rather I have busted down the door with a team of
guys waving their guns around?”

She laughed without the slightest hint of amusement on her
face. “As opposed to you waving your cock around? Not a lot of difference
there, from where I sit.”

Unlike most of his perps, he deserved every bit of venom she
was throwing his way. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a jolt of amusement at
her sharp sarcasm. Most skips didn’t have enough wit, let alone humor, during
an arrest to manage such a feat.

She lifted her chin. “Tell me,
Nate
, do you always
capture fugitives by fucking them first to subdue them?”

“No, I usually prefer to hold a cloth in front of their face
and say, ‘Gee, does this smell like chloroform to you?’”

He knelt on the couch beside her, trapping her legs with one
of his knees so she couldn’t kick him. He pulled back hard on her ponytail so
she couldn’t bite or head butt him while he tugged the fabric of her suit into
place.

“Leave me alone,” she said, jerking her torso wildly. “Get
your perverted hands off me. I’ll scream!”

“Do you want me to drag you out in public with your breasts
hanging out?”

She sniffed haughtily, but she stopped wiggling around while
he finished covering the luscious breasts he’d had in his mouth not long
before. Yes, he was going to hell for this. But despite her scathing glower,
part of him still believed it had been worth it.

He got up off the couch, leaving her sitting there on her
cuffed hands, and regarded her for a moment while he tried to picture driving
back to Colorado with her wearing nothing but two skimpy pieces of fabric. One
of which had been soaked with her pussy juices when she’d been begging him to
fuck her. And she
had
begged for it, hadn’t she? Let her shoot
murderous, accusing glares at him all she wanted. There was no way he was
taking the fall for this one.

“Come on,” he said, and he helped her to her feet. “Let’s go
to your bedroom.”

“You
must
be joking,” she said with a deadpan
expression that almost made him laugh.

“I can take you back just like this, but all things
considered, I think we’d both prefer it if you had some clothes on.”

She glared a moment longer and then nodded silently before
leading him down the hall. It was the right thing to do, allowing her modesty. Still,
on the way he couldn’t help but consider the downside to his belated chivalry.
Not only would he be unable to turn his back while she stripped down, he’d
actually have to help.

A sick twist in Lydia’s stomach hit her halfway between the
bathroom and her bedroom.

“Wait, please,” she said. “I’m going to be sick.”

She didn’t even wait for her bastard captor to answer.
Instead, she yanked on the arm he had in a tight grip while she changed course
and bolted for the bathroom. He followed her without missing a beat, and she
didn’t even make it onto her knees in front of the toilet before she started
retching. Nate—if that was his real name—held her ponytail back in an oddly
helpful gesture while her stomach gave up the “good stuff” to the porcelain
gods.

When she was finished, she headed to the sink without a word
and suffered the indignity of having him help her rinse out her mouth. Her
cheeks burned while she used some mouthwash to swish and spit the sour taste
that matched the overall tone her life had taken. Maybe she shouldn’t bother.
Let him deal with vomit breath all the way back to Colorado.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked calmly.

She looked up into the mirror, where she ignored her pale,
bedraggled reflection to glare at his cool, still-too-handsome face. “No. I am
so far from better that I can’t even begin to describe it.” Her voice was
thready and a little hoarse from the bile that had burned its way up and out of
her throat. “Let’s just say I thought getting arrested was the most humiliating
experience of my life. But getting drunk, spreading my legs for a stranger, and
then vomiting my guts out in front of him has become a new all-time low.”

In truth, though, she did feel a little less drunk. That was
something, at least. The room wasn’t spinning, and her head hadn’t yet started
pounding from the inevitable hangover in the morning. At this point, she was in
the eye of the alcohol storm. And a personal storm to boot.

As they headed for the bedroom, the handcuffs behind her dug
into her wrists as a painful reminder that the recent past had just caught up
with her future. She’d always loved the bedroom at the beach house, with its
bright and cheery oranges and lime greens. But now, it was in complete discord
with the situation.

Nate sat her on the bed, which was covered in a motif of
orange blossoms, and stepped back.

“Now get out and let me change,” she said, and she snarled
at him in disgust when he shook his head.

“That’s not going to happen, sorry.”

“Why not? Didn’t you get enough of a sick thrill pegging me
before you slapped on the cuffs?”

She had the satisfaction of seeing him wince. So, the
underhanded prick had a whiff of a conscience. Imagine that.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” he said, “and in case it hasn’t
occurred to you, I highly doubt you’d be able to Houdini your way into a change
of clothes with your hands cuffed behind your back.”

Her eyes widened. “So you think you’re going to dress me
too? No way.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. But since that bikini shows off
your entire ass, I have to insist you at least put some pants on.”

“Funny, because I seem to remember you insisting the exact
opposite thing a short while ago.”

He glanced around without answering, and she took that
opportunity to regard him with new eyes. So, he was a bounty hunter, not a
stripper. She’d been right when the sudden knock on her door had sent her into
a panic. In her defense, he certainly had the right equipment for a stripper.
He was fuck-me-now gorgeous, with the lustrous, caramel-colored hair of a movie
star and the erotic, pale-green eyes of a god. Even before he’d stripped down
to his t-shirt, she’d felt his hard muscles and powerful arms through a suit
that made him look downright fuckable. And why did he have to smell so damn
good? Even now, his scent filled the room, taunting her with memories of what
she’d just let him do to her. One would think a bounty hunter would smell like
a beer-bellied hobo, not a male cologne model.

There had been a couple of odd clues, of course. He was
hairier than most strippers she’d seen, not that she was some big expert on the
subject. Still, she’d been around enough for a reasonable comparison. Those
guys not only waxed their bodies, but oiled themselves until they gleamed.
She’d discovered the fun of cleaning oil-stained clothing after a close
encounter. But when she had torn Nate’s shirt open, she had found a masculine
and quite appealing mat of hair on his unoiled chest.

Then there’d been the condom thing. While she’d never
actually fucked a male dancer herself, she’d attended parties where the guest
of honor had received a rather wild interpretation of a lap dance. The men
offering them brought a rather colorful assortment of rubbers along on the job.
Which was pretty disgusting, now that she thought about it.

She watched him head for the lime-colored dresser, noticing
how the tight, black fabric of his t-shirt stretched over his biceps, chest and
a narrow waist that was definitely stripper-worthy. And Valerie had confirmed
everything, so of course she’d fallen for his trick.

Why
had
Valerie said that? Maybe the bail bond office
had threatened her with jail if she didn’t cooperate. Hell, there’d probably
never been a stripper at all. It had all just been a ploy for Nate to mix
business and pleasure in one blow. And what a blow it had been. The size of his
cock and the way he used it, well, that was something she would
not
let
herself think about again until she was reporting this entire incident to the
authorities. Cop or not, surely bounty hunters had some code of ethics they
were supposed to follow? How many other women had he used this stripper ruse on
to gain access to their homes and their pussies, no less?

Another stab of greasy nausea shot through her stomach at
the thought, but it thankfully passed.

Meanwhile, Nate was busy yanking open dresser drawers. “All
these are empty.”

She rolled her eyes. “How very perceptive of you. With
brains like that, no wonder you went into detective work.”

Nate moved over to the closet, shoving open the louvered
doors to reveal a neat, but modest row of clothing she had organized in order
of type and color. What a dope. Then again, she’d had a ton of nervous energy
on her hands, some of which she’d just expended in a heated rush of passion
with the man who was rooting around in her wardrobe. With his back partly
turned.

She glanced at the door that was several feet away from
where he was standing.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, shoving hangers
around. Did the man have eyes behind his head? “Whatever you think you can do
to escape, it won’t work. I’d be on you before you could make it five feet.”

“Gee, doesn’t that sound familiar?”

“I mean it, Lydia. Stay where you are. I don’t want to have
to get rough with you.”

“It seemed to me you enjoyed getting rough when you were
busy slapping me around on the table.”

“Yeah, like you hated it.” He ignored the middle finger she
managed to flip at him despite the cuffs and went back to riffling through her
clothes. “Don’t you have any jeans in here?”

“I don’t like jeans.”

He tugged a pair of white slacks out of her closet, but she
shook her head. “Not the white ones,” she said. “Get the black jogging pants on
the end. And I have sneakers down below.”

“You don’t own jeans, but you wear sneakers?”

“Don’t judge me. I do happen to go running, you know.”

“I noticed. Right across state lines.” Nate grabbed the
requested items and tossed them on the bed. “But not fast enough to keep me
from catching you.” He put his hands on his hips. “If it’s all the same to you,
I’d just assume we skip underwear and put these on over the bikini.”

“How noble.”

“Here’s how we’re going to do this,” he said. “Turn over and
lie flat on your stomach. I’ll do the work.”

The temptation to latch onto that comment fell away as
quickly as it came, and she snapped her mouth shut.

When she didn’t move, he took a step closer. “
Now
, or
you can go naked for all I care.”

She flipped over, which wasn’t as easy as it sounded with
her hands cuffed. He climbed on top of her, straddling her backward. In this
position, her butt was practically in his face, and she held back a moan of
disgust at the thought of how eagerly she’d bent over the dining room table
while he’d spanked her.

It took some doing, but he tugged on her stretchy jogging
pants and went to work on her shoes.

“Look,” he said while she suffered through his feeble
attempts at dressing her. “I’m sorry for what happened out there. I admit I
gave into a very male opportunity. But let’s not pretend you didn’t put it out
there. You wanted it as bad as I did.”

“I thought you were my birthday gift,” she said bitterly.
“Not a curse sent straight from hell.”

It took a few tries, but he got her shoes on and stood. “Go
ahead and turn around now, slowly,” he said. She heard him blow out a breath.
“I’ll help you sit up.”

Again, things easier said than done, but she managed. He
kept right on talking while she did. “I should have told you who I was right
away, I admit it. I was about to, you know, when you were taking that last
drink. Before I could get out my badge and cuffs, you turned around half naked
and started groping me. What was I supposed to do?”

He actually wore a guilty expression when she was again
facing him. “I suppose stopping to tell me the truth was out of the question.”

Something flashed in his eyes. “You stuck my cock in your
mouth, lady. I may be a duly appointed representative of your bond agency, but
I’m not a saint. You wanted it bad enough to get on your knees and take it. I
just went along with the offer. End of story.”

Her mouth fell open. “End of story, except for the part
where you fuck a girl and then take her to jail as if nothing happened.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t call me Nate the Crate for nothing.”

A less-than-polite cackle came out. “Nate the Crate? As in,
wooden and stiff with a bunch of holes where substance should be?”

“No, as in strong and unyielding while I’m carting in the
goods.” He leaned closer. “Goods meaning you, by the way.”

“Yeah, you’re a real dream come true. Fuck ’em and book
’em.”

“I said I’m sorry about that. I’m just doing my job. And regardless
of that look you’re giving me, consensual sex is not illegal for bounty
hunters. I’m not the one who broke the law here.”

“I didn’t break the law. I’m innocent.”

A laugh whooped out of him. “Sure you are. Okay, let’s have
you stand up and turn around.”

She stayed in place. “You have no right to judge my guilt.
You don’t know a thing about me.”

In a flash, he was beside her and had hauled her upright.
“Lydia Franklin, age twenty-nine. Single white female, blonde-blue,
five-foot-seven, one-hundred-twenty-two pounds.”

She sneered at him. “One-
nineteen
.”

“Arrested on the fifth of May for embezzling funds from your
employer. Bonded out and jumped bail sometime thereafter, my guess would be
within twenty-four hours of release.” He shook his head. “And even without
knowing all that, let me just say that the fact that you fucked a stripper you
had in your apartment for less than sixty seconds doesn’t exactly paint you as
an innocent.”

“Or you as a man of ethics.”

“Ethics is a dodgy word in my line of work.” He had her by
the arm and steered her toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Her thoughts whirred a mile a minute. Apparently, a
sure-fire cure for intoxication was getting jumped by a bounty hunter. She felt
a lot clearer now than when he’d first waltzed in with balloons and a hidden
agenda. But sobering up wasn’t getting her any closer to finding a way out of
this. Maybe she needed more time to think.

She dug her heels in at the bedroom door. “I suppose you’re
right about the clothes,” she said. “I should probably put on a shirt before we
go.”

He huffed out a sigh. “Pick something out. We might as well
bring a jacket along too. It’ll be a lot colder once we leave sunny
California.”

“How am I supposed to put a shirt on over these cuffs?” she
asked, waggling her fingers behind her when he stopped her in front of the
closet.

“Let me worry about that. Just hurry up.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded to the section of blouses on
the far end. “That one. The short-sleeved pink sweater. My jacket is hanging
out by the front door.”

He grabbed the sweater and they went out to the living room.
There, he started the whole facedown-on-the-floor routine all over again. Once
he’d straddled her ass, something she tried very hard not to dwell on, she
heard him fiddling with the cuffs. The tension gave way, and then her arms were
free. Sort of. The cuffs were still clamped around one wrist, and he held both
hands in place with his.

“Easy while I get the shirt over your head,” he said. “Just
relax.”

Sure,
relax
with a sexual maverick sitting on her
back controlling her every movement. Something he did just as surely now as
when he’d given her the ride of a lifetime on the table.

Her emotions were already churning in all sorts of varied
and wild directions when the scene exploded into complete pandemonium. The
front door crashed inward, and from her position on the floor, she saw two
pairs of booted, male feet come charging in.

“Freeze! Don’t move!” voices shouted.

While Lydia did just that without even a conscious effort to
obey, Nate did the opposite. He rolled off her back and wound up standing
between her and the coffee table. She looked up and saw his hands were in the
air. He was staring wide-eyed at the invaders, but he somehow seemed a lot more
casual about it than she felt.

“It’s all right,” Nate called, and she glanced up to see
that he had dropped his hands and was pointing toward the dining table. “I’m a
bond agent with a fugitive in custody. The documentation is in that gray bag
over there.”