Page 1 of A Mountain Man Christmas

Prologue

Three Days Ago

Theophilus Hill was starting to annoy the crap out of Lyla.

He’d given her the slip two weeks ago when she tried to corner him on that old ranch in Indiana. He’d managed to evade her last week in a packed nightclub in Los Angeles. He’d even attacked her two nights ago when she tried to cuff him in a bowling alley in Vegas. Being used for target practice with bowling balls by the scumbag you were supposed to turn in was not a thrilling experience.

It didn’t matter how hard she tried—catching Theophilus was like catching wind. Usually, she enjoyed tracking down and turning in criminals like him, but this guy had slipped through her grip one too many times. Lyla was running out of energy and patience. And she’d soon be out of money as well, considering her flight expenses over the past couple of weeks.

“Dang it,” she muttered with a sigh as a light shudder traveled through the plane. More turbulence. She drew her gaze away from the window, her attention shifting from the clouds outside to the wrinkled sheet of paper in her hand. “You’re going to put me in debt pretty soon.”

The man she was after scowled back at her from the paper, and she fought the urge to crumple it again. She’d seen it—seenhim—enough times to know exactly what he looked like:dark hair, cold, black eyes, dark beard. There wasn’t much to see of him in the photo—whoever had managed to take it either had shaky hands or a bad camera—but his features were etched in her memory. With his broad shoulders and massive arms, Theophilus was a tank. How he’d managed to evade the lawandLyla for so long was beyond her.

But it was only a matter of time before she slapped handcuffs on him and dragged him to the authorities. She’d gotten wind that he was headed to Chicago, and so she’d booked a flight from Vegas herself. Hopefully, this time, she would get him. This time, he wouldn’t get away.

She dug into her coat pocket, withdrawing an energy bar, and bit into it. She’d barely gotten any sleep in the last couple of days. Hard to catch any z’s with an alleged mass murderer fleeing across the country.

Alleged, Lyla thought with a scoff.

Theophilus was guilty, alright. To be fair, with a name like that, Lyla was willing to believe any and all charges leveled against the man. But she knew the facts. Hill was wanted for the murder of four police officers as well as thirty geriatrics in a retirement home. Word had it that the senior citizens had been having some good old Friday night fun untilhewalked in and then…

Bingo.

The authorities had no idea how he did it, but they’d found claw and bite marks on all the bodies as if some wild creature had attacked them. If Hill’s prints hadn’t been discovered at the crime scenes, no one would have figured he had anything to do with the murders.

Except Lyla Jensen, world-renowned bounty hunter.

Okay, world-renowned was a bit of a stretch. Barely anyone knew who she was these days. It was part of the job. She’d only had it for six years, but she was pretty damn good at what shedid, which was why the fact that Theophilus constantly evaded her made him such a pain in the—

“Theophilus Hill?” said a voice, startling her back to reality.

Instinctively, Lyla reached under her army-green coat for the pair of handcuffs strapped to her hip but relaxed as her gaze settled on the passenger next to her. The man shot her a somewhat puzzled look. He seemed much younger than she was, no doubt in his early thirties. Cute, but not nearly her type.

She glanced past him, sweeping her gaze around at the other passengers. The cabin was mostly quiet, although she could hear a few grunts and murmurs from the occupants of business class. Men in suits and women who looked like they’d rather be elsewhere. Not many people seemed particularly thrilled about their flight to Chicago. It was the second to the last week in November. If she had to guess, most of them were traveling for the holidays.

She, however, was on the job.

The man pointed at the paper in her hand. “Is that Theophilus Hill?”

Lyla nodded, brushing a strand of curly hair out of her face. “You’ve heard of him?”

“Who hasn’t at this point?” He shook his head with a scoff. “I hope they catch him soon. Who knows where he’ll strike next.”

“Well, I’m going after him,” she blurted out, then realized she probably shouldn’t have.

His eyebrows rose, and his eyes widened. “You’re a cop?”

“No. I’m a bounty hunter.”

“Oh, I heard they’re offering a reward for whoever brings him in. What is it, ten grand?”

“Thirty.”

“That’s a lot of money.”

Lyla shrugged. “That’s the least of my concerns. I don’t really do it for the pay,” she admitted.

He frowned, looking a little impressed. “So, what made you become a bounty hunter?”

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