Page 1 of Beauty and the Bounty Hunter

CHAPTER 1

Harbor

Another night, another bar fight.

Blood and grime-tinged water ran in little eddies and whorls down the chipped bathroom sink in my apartment, adrenaline leaking down the drain with it. I squirted more soap onto my dark brown hands, not even grimacing at the sting of fresh wounds. I was used to it.

I never wanted to be. When I left the Army, I had plans. But with my private investigation business dead on arrival and the US Marshal Service apparently losing my application, this was all I had.

Breaking up bar fights was what an enforcer like me was for. I shouldn’t have expected more.

I finished cleaning and dressing my hands and made my way to the living room. Nights like this, when the white frat boys from the Philly colleges all gathered in one toxic testosterone storm, left me with only enough energy to have half a beer and fall into bed. Tonight I couldn’t even muster the beer.

Passing through my spare studio apartment, I headed straight for my bed and collapsed face first. It wasn’t difficult to find, as it was one of only two pieces of furniture in my apartment. No tchotchkes or window coverings. This wasn’t a fucking Restoration Hardware, after all.

My phone buzzed in the pocket of the loose black track pants I wore to work. I wasn’t going to answer it. I was too exhausted and over it. No wonder the Marshal Service hadn’t responded. There was nothing clean cut or decent about me.

Honesty, I only took my phone out to charge it. It was an older model, and took ages to get a full charge, and I couldn’t go all of tomorrow without it.

Then I saw the name on my caller ID. My cousin out in Lewis, John Flaherty. While I could ignore almost everyone else, I couldn’t let John go to voicemail. Family mattered.

“Hello?” I grumbled.

“Hey, cuz,” John said. He was a Navy man, like his entire side of the family, but I didn’t hold it against them. “Sorry for the late call. I figured you’d be up.”

I rolled over to hear him better. “I am.”

“How’s bouncing?”

“Making me grateful I never went to college,” I replied.

John chuckled, his voice deep. “I have a job for you.”

I didn’t get my hopes up. While John was a small town deputy, he also worked every so often with the Hunter’s Guild, tracking people down for money. On his own time, of course, because that was the guy he was.

“I don’t feel like spending all my cash tracking down some asshole bail jumper in a seedy motel,” I said.

“First of all, she’s a woman.” John’s eye roll could be seen all the way from the start of the Schuylkill River in Tuscarora Springs. “She jumped bail on a hit and run charge. Personal injury thing.”

Great. When I had gotten my PI license, that was the first thing people had come to me for, besides the cheating spouse gigs. All the “woe is me” stuck in my teeth like a popcorn kernel. Why couldn’t adults act like fucking adults and not whiny toddlers? If you made commitments, you should keep them.

“I don’t think so.” I yawned into the void of my apartment. “I have a job.”

John’s voice didn’t change. “You can punk out on the bar for a few days. Stop beating people up for five minutes, and take the gig. It’s ten grand. With that, maybe you can do some advertising and actually get your PI business up and running. Like, with clients. Who pay. Find yourself some rich widows and you’re in business.”

Like rich widows would want anything to do with me. Hadn’t my last girlfriend said as much? I was good for one thing, and it wasn’t the finer arts. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep. Send me what you have and I’ll text you in the morning. Yes or no. Fair warning— it’s likely no.”

“I’m going to be optimistic. My parents are hosting a barbecue in a few weeks, and we expect to see you there. I’ll text you the details.” He hung up, and I wallowed in my uncomfortable mattress. I could have upgraded my bed linens, but then again, what was the point? It was only me and I’d slept in worse.

The unmistakable whoosh of a text message woke me from twilight sleep.

I debated not looking, keeping my promise to myself and not opening this can of worms.

Screw it. It’s not like I was going to sleep anyway. I hadn’t in over a decade and wasn’t about to start.

Especially once I opened the file and saw the photo of Katrina Dobbs.

Even in her mugshot, she was a stunner. Waves on waves of thick black hair, and dark eyes full of emotion, palpable in the black-and-white photo. She had a smooth nose and a beauty mark on the outside corner of her left eye.

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