Page 20 of Bounty Hunter's Match

“You’re enjoying this.”

“I’m analyzing potential vulnerabilities.” Her massive form shifted, scales gleaming under the office lights. “Like how mybest operative let himself get recorded in a compromising position.”

“The twins-”

“Are an asset we can use.” She paused the video. “The Mondians who filed the complaint? Trade delegates from the Outer Rim. Very influential.”

“And?”

“Maybe they should get free tickets to the Valentine’s Gala.” Her fangs gleamed in a grin I could only assume was amused. “Unless you’d rather handle the diplomatic fallout yourself?”

I considered the stack of incident reports on her desk. The trade implications. The political mess if those delegates decided to make an issue of perceived discrimination.

“No dancing,” I said finally.

“No dancing,” she agreed. “Though the video suggests you might have some moves of your own...”

I left before she could replay it again.

The corridor outside proved no safer. Madame Hara materialized from a side passage, tentacles rippling with excitement.

“Darling! Just the warrior I needed!” Her grin widened. “I simply must get your input on my latest work.”

“No.”

“But the scene practically writes itself!” She gestured dramatically, nearly hitting a passing Merrith with her tentacles. “‘The Warrior’s Heart: A Security Romance.’ The stoic protector, the brilliant matchmaker, forbidden passion blooming amidst danger...”

“I have a meeting.”

“Chapter one opens with a kiss in a darkened corridor...” She followed as I quickened my pace. “Though perhaps we should start earlier, build the tension...”

A familiar giggle echoed from the vents above.

“The twins are recording,” I warned.

“Perfect!” Her tentacles curled with delight. “We can workshop dialogue. Now, in chapter three, when the warrior finally admits his feelings...”

I ducked into a maintenance shaft, but she kept narrating through the wall. Something about moonlight and destiny.

The twins’ laughter followed me all the way back to Perfect Match.

Camden waited in her office, studying client files. The morning light caught in her hair, turning it to fire.

Professional thoughts.

“The Mondians filed a complaint,” I said.

“I heard.” She looked up, lips curved in a smile that made my chest ache. “Larthul suggested we give them tickets to the Gala?”

“It would solve several problems.”

“True.” She stood, moving closer. “Though we should discuss security measures first. The supply closet has excellent privacy settings.”

“Bishop...”

“Very thorough protocols.” Her fingers brushed my arm. “Worth investigating.”

The supply closet proved surprisingly spacious. And private.

---