Page 5 of Bullet Unleashed

Shit. I’m stuck at that point. I’ll think about a counter to his potential counter later.

I rummage around in my kitchen junk drawer and find a cord I hope fits. I almost squeal in delight when one end of the cord is able to connect to the phone. The other end goes into the side of the laptop and I lift the lid to the cover to power the machine to life. The drive icon indicating the laptop “sees” the phone pops up fresh on the screen, but my attempts to access it are jammed. Not only can I not access what’s on it, but a black screen appears with random letters and numbers dancing across the front. The phone is encrypted with a code I have no way of pushing past to even get a glimpse of what’s there.

“Well that’s a downer, but smart. Whoever this belongs to, good for them for protecting what’s on you,” I congratulate the phone as I remove the cord from my laptop. My reporter instincts are screaming at me, and the corners of my mouth pull high. “I wonder who’s got something to hide?”

#

IN ANY NORMAL DAY,the drive to the convenience store would be uneventful. Not much happens in Sance so people don’t worry about their comings and goings. Even when doing something some people would consider taking unnecessary risks like going out at night to the local convenience store to pick up a few items before it closes. I’ve lived in the big city before. It was right after college when I interned at WLOU in Orias and learned all about what happens to single women out at night. But, I’m low on supplies, so I need to make this trip. And Sance is as far from the big city of Orias as a person can get. It’s a relatively short trip to the store to get some of the antiseptic I don’t have in my medicine cabinet.

This should be uneventful.

Yet, the same pair of headlights in my rearview mirror has followed me for an odd length of time, and now my heart is starting to race. I love my mother with all my heart, but damn her for making me paranoid. The people in the car behind me are probably a couple of teenagers out for a date or something.

I’m becoming a worrier like Mama. I guess you do turn into your parents the older you get.

I pull into the parking lot of the Pik N Run—a convenience store a couple of miles away from my home and stop in front of the building. My hands are shaking, but the pair of headlights continues down the street. I empty my lungs, grab my bag and shut the engine off. The hairs on my arm are erect, so I wipe them with my palms and head through the entrance. Thanks Mama, I sarcastically remark in my mind.

Inside the Pik N Run are rows and rows of goods to be purchased to satisfy your basic needs. The store is brightly lit and a few shoppers are perusing the aisles searching for who-knows-what. There’s one cashier, a lanky teenager with braces and wearing an oversized uniform behind a central checkout stand. Temptation abounds when you walk the store as it’s stocked with all types of candies and magazines to tempt shoppers to grab them before they make their final purchase.

The aisles are tall. There’s no way to see over the top of them, so there are signs above the aisles to mark the items within. Reading a map is always a challenge, but this is much simpler. It doesn’t take me long to locate the aisle with the first aid. It’s in the back of the store by the pharmacy. What takes me longer is determining which product to choose from to mend my knee. I step back to try to see the items on the upper shelf, and of course it’s there just outside of my reach. Well, a lot of things are out of my reach when I go to stores, but being vertically challenged has never stopped me before, and it’s not going to stop me now. Hopefully, they have some on the bottom row. It’s a chore bending down to see the options on the lower shelf, but I manage to do so with a grimace.

“Here,” a deep, textured voice calls from behind me. “Let me help you with that.”

“Oh, no thanks,” I respond. The last thing I need is for some man to come to my rescue like I’m a damsel in distress. Plus, I’m already down here. There’s nothing he can do for me that I can’t do for myself. “I got it— “

Shit,I gasp as I look up and drink him in. What the fuck was I saying a moment ago?

This man is gorgeous! Not in a pretty playboy kind a way, but in a ruggedly handsome, bend-me-over-the-desk-and-fuck-the-shit-out-of-me-while-you-pull-my-hair-please kind of way.

He’s tall and tanned, with a dark, rugged feel about him. He has a straight nose, defined cheekbones and espresso brown hair combed back into a man bun just below the crown of his head. Impressive beard stubble like he hasn’t shaved in a week, dances along a powerful jawline. His hazel eyes are large with dark eyelashes and eyebrows which set off his features. And fuck me, but he has a tiny scar over his left eye that makes my knees weak.

He extends his hand, and I grab hold. I can feel the strength in his hand as he gently, but powerfully, pulls me up to my feet. Then he leans over and reaches the antiseptic on the top shelf and hands it to me.

“There you go,” he says, and his voice fills me with warmth. “Is this what you wanted?”

I pull the back of my ponytail over my shoulder and twirl the edges in my fingers. “Yes,” I answer with a subtle flirtatious tone. “Thank you.”

He eyes me up and down, and I flash him my winning smile. I don’t know how he is, but he clearly is not from around here. I’ve seen the men in Sance, and this man is in a class all to himself. He doesn’t have a ring on his left hand. This is getting better and better. I’m willing to lie about a convenience store pick up if you are, I tell him telekinetically, trying to push my thoughts into his mind through my smile and lustful gaze. With the way he’s devouring me with his eyes, I have a very good feeling about my chances.

“Hope?” He asks.

Oh shit, a fan. I won’t normally fuck a fan, but it’s been so long. You’ve seen me on the television screen big boy, if you play your cards right, you can see a lot more of me.

“Yes, I’m Hope Moore, Channel Nine News. Thanks for watching,” I say, still giving him my winning smile I’ve used since high school. Pointing to the box of antiseptic in my hand, I add, “and thanks for this.”

“Hope, it’s me. Chase.”

I thought he was eyeing me with sex on his mind, but after he says his name, I push past the handsome exterior and see his furrowed brow. Was I wrong? No, my intuition is never wrong. He wants me, he...wait a minute.

“Chase? Chase Daniels?”

He nods his head and I want to faint.

“Oh, hey,” I say, hoping to regain some of the dignity I lost thirty seconds ago when I was ready to jump his bones in aisle twelve. “Hey...how are you?”

I lean in and give him a hug, careful not to press into his hard body too tightly. Hopefully, it’s not too awkward.

“Well, that was awkward,” he remarks as we pull away.

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