Page 17 of Beauty and the Bounty Hunter

Soft steps, douchebag, I thought. Even I knew how to move like a ballerina when I needed to. This loser didn’t even deserve the payday.

Of course, I was the one who had slept with the mark, so maybe neither of us was on our A-game.

Through the pane of the door, I heard the crunching outside. It sounded like he was below the porch, his heavy boots sinking into the fresh snow. How had he found us? Maybe whoever had told Katrina about this place had squealed. Otherwise there was no way they could have tracked my car.

Unless that person had seen her get into my rental car. All rental cars had GPS trackers nowadays. A savvy bounty hunter could have traced it and—

Shit.

My heart sank lower in my stomach. This was all my fault. She would have been safe if I had left her alone like I had intended. Safe from him, and safe from me.

Anger curled deep inside me, familiar and hot. This wasn’t fair. Why did beauty have to be so fleeting for me? Was it a punishment for my past? The things I’d done?

The footsteps crunched closer, up the steps now.

I didn’t have time to wallow. The anger gave me strength, steeled my limbs for the oncoming assault.

I could still protect her. I could keep this guy away from her.

I stood and swung open the door in one motion, knocking the other bounty hunter back down the steps. Crossing my arms over my chest in my best don’t-fuck-with-me bouncer posture, I stared him down. He was taller than me, a white man with cheeks reddened from the February chill. His dark parka covered his head and hung low over his gloved hands, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he were hiding a gun or two beneath that thick coat.

“Who are you?” He coughed on the last word. His snowmobile looked new, flashy.

“You’re on my property.” I didn’t move or flinch. “So who are you?”

Parka Guy held up his hands, showing me they were empty. For now. “I’m looking for a woman. Maybe you’ve seen her.”

“Haven’t seen anyone the last few days.”

Parka Guy squinted at the door behind me, like he could see through the layers of wood and feet of flooring to where Katrina was hiding. “She’s pretty. You couldn’t miss her. Name is Katrina Dobbs.”

Discipline made none of my muscles twitch. Dobbs. I had been calling her Katrina Valdez, her maiden name. That fuckhead Dobbs didn’t deserve his name attached to hers. “Haven’t seen her.”

Parka Guy lifted one foot up the porch step. His russet features hardened. “I don’t think that’s true. See, I found Katrina. Up at that fancy lakeside resort. I almost had her, but she jumped into a car.” Keeping his leaden gaze on me, he pointed with his thumb at my rental SUV. “That car. It took me a bit to track it, what with the snow. But I’ve been in this game a long time. So hand her over. I want to get on the highway before it starts snowing again.”

“Get off my property,” I repeated.

He stepped up one more of the porch stairs. He was almost level with me now, but for the moment I was taller than him. “Tell me where she is. I found her first. She’s my bounty, my payday.”

“She’s a lot more than a payday.” My gun was in my holster, but I hated using guns. Too cold. I preferred my fists.

He laughed, one brittle, icicle-like sound that hung in the air for a beat. “You fucking chump. You slept with her, didn’t you?”

Like most of the fights I’d been in, I didn’t plan it out. I didn’t walk through the right hook to the side of his mouth, or the body shot to his left lower ribs that sent him down one of the porch steps. The blows rose up in me, but they were more controlled than they had been in the past. More like choreography. An uppercut that he blocked, a knee in his groin when he reached for his gun. Soon we were on the ground, wrestling, my body in an adrenaline haze, absorbing his punches. This felt like a last fight, a final push to clean all of this from me. If I won, if I protected Katrina, then I would never need to be this man again. I could see our future so clearly. A little four-bedroom house somewhere, shaded by trees. Three kids who all looked like her, eating waffles with whipped cream and sprinkles, just because. Katrina, by my side.

Katrina, who never needed to see me like this.

“I don’t blame you,” Parka Guy said, stumbling back to his feet. “Hell, I’d fuck her, too.”

That was enough. His blood sprayed across the snow as I landed a hit to his temple. He spat more blood, chuckling. “You think she’ll want someone like you?” he said softly. “Women like her never want guys like us.”

The statement sucked the fight out of me. He was right. Parka Guy was right. I wasn’t the whipped-cream-and-sprinkles type, no matter how badly I wanted that. But if Katrina didn’t see—

“Harbor?” Her voice made me numb.

This was all over.

CHAPTER 16

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