Page 7 of A Rebel's Shot

Tiikâan folded himself back into the Purple People Eater and headed through town. The second impression of the house was even worse than the first. The fancy––probably handcrafted––trim and large picture windows that would leak heat faster than a cracked door screamed wasteful.

Well, if they weren’t wasteful, he wouldn’t have this contract. This Merritt could easily stay in the man camp at the drilling site just like all the other workers. Oneperson’s extravagance was another man’s gain. Tiikâan didn’t mind being on the receiving end of the frivolity.

As he walked up to the door, he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Where the heck were the nerves coming from? He’d guided rich folk before. This wasn’t any different.

Except before, that was in his domain. Here, he was out of his element. This was a bad idea.

He rang the doorbell, scanned what he could see through the window on the door, and shifted on his feet when no one answered. After waiting a good four minutes, he rang again. And waited.

Looked like he’d get to put the torture off for one more day. Just when he was about to turn back to the car, a person moved toward the entrance.

Dang.

No such luck.

A woman in her late twenties with a haughty expression on her beautiful face answered the door. Her phone was pressed to her ear, and she lifted a perfectly plucked eyebrow over her rich brown eyes at him while continuing her conversation.

He cleared his throat. “I’m here to see Merritt.”

She waved him in and headed back through the house. He stepped inside, trying not to gawk at the over-the-top interior. It was like a Texas dude ranch and the Taj Mahal got caught up in a tornado and the resulting decoration was the outcome.

It was just so… Wow.

He couldn’t even come up with a word to describe how ostentatious the interior was. The woman gave anannoyed clearing of her throat, motioning him to follow her.

As she led him down the hallway, he couldn’t help but notice the thick Fjallraven fleece hoodie even though it was summer, the bright scarf wrapped around her neck, the expensive cut of her tight jeans, and the silver and turquoise cuff bracelet that matched a ridiculously large turquoise ring. Everything about her screamed money.

He tipped his head.

Everything except the well-worn leather hikers.

Those didn’t fit the image at all.

But the fact that she ignored his existence did. She led him to an office overlooking the ocean, and the longer she talked on the phone, the more irritated Tiikâan became.

Was the call important?

Probably.

But still, out of all the uppity hunters he’d had, none of them had been this blatantly rude.

If this was how he’d be treated all summer, he might as well leave now. No amount of money was worth putting up with being viewed as dirt.

Tiikâan scanned the office, his gaze landing on a painting of a bush plane resting on a lake. A small cabin tucked in the woods in the background. His dream captured on canvas.

Okay.

Maybe some things were worth it.

“I’m sorry for keeping you.” The woman turned from staring out the window, put the phone in her pocket,motioned for him to take a seat, and lowered herself into the leather chair behind the desk. “What can I do for you?”

Each movement was measured. Crisp and efficient. And it bugged the heck out of Tiikâan. He forced himself to relax into the chair.

“I’m Tiikâan with Rebel Air Service. I’m here to meet with Merritt.”

“You found her.” She smirked and leaned back in her chair with an air of satisfaction as dread swamped over him in a cold rush from head to toe.

Well, nuts.

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