Page 11 of Chasing Paradise

Legs would likely end up with both of us on the ground in the alley, wrestling around in what could either be a perfectly normal puddle of water… or some sort of pee.

Head would mean I would have an even more aching head than I already did from caffeine withdrawal.

“Let’s try this again, darlin’,” he said, his breath warm on the shell of my ear. And it totally didn’t make a shiver course down my spine. Because I wasabsolutely notthat hard-up for the closeness of a man.

I also totally didn’t notice the way he smelled, either. All bright and fresh, maybe slightly citrusy. Which was refreshing. Most guys wore spicy or clean scents that always made me wrinkle my nose.

“Try what again?” I asked, pitching my tone just a little more innocent.

“Bullshit. You’ve been following me since Miami. Who are you and what do you want?”

“Maybe I just want the pleasure of your company. Hey! Hands!” I snapped as he pinned me harder with just one of his strong arms, and his other hand started to drift, patting over me.

“You’re not armed.”

“How would I get on a plane with a weapon?”

“You’ve passed half a dozen following me the past few hours.”

“Maybe I don’t want to kill you. Though the possibility is increasing with each passing second.”

He was so damn fast.

One second, he was hugging my arms to my chest and my body to his chest.

The next, he was releasing me and stepping away while simultaneously whipping my crossbody bag up and off of me.

“Hey!” I whipped back to face him, ready to get my bag back—even if I had to strangle him with the strap to do it.

But it was too late.

He had it unzipped and had pulled out my wallet.

“Violet,” he read off my ID.

I saw it the second he came across my bounty hunter identification card.

One of his brows inched up and he shot me a look from under his lashes.

“You’re a bounty hunter?”

Was that disbelief in his voice? Mocking?

I’d busted my ass to get that damn license. Lord knew the state of New Jersey didn’t exactly make it easy.

Not liking his tone, I simply crossed my arms and glared at him.

“Where’s your badge then?”

“Those are ornamental, worn only by the guys who think they’re bigger badasses than they are. Besides, that’s another thing I couldn’t have brought into the country.”

“Because bounty hunters are illegal here.”

“It figures that you would know that.”

“I skipped bail. Of course I know,” he said, slipping my IDs back into their slots. He put my wallet back in my bag, zipped it, then held it out toward me. “What, exactly, was your plan here? To ask me nicely to return to the States so you could collect?”

“No.”

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