Page 29 of Witch Bound and Down

He looked at her—really looked at her—taking in the way the magical light played across her features, the spark of adventure in her green eyes, the small smile that suggested she was thinking about things that definitely weren't safe or sensible.

"Better than I ever expected," he said honestly.

The tunnel began to brighten ahead of them, indicating they were approaching the other end. Behind them, the jazz orchestra was fading, replaced by the more familiar crackle of CB radio chatter.

"—anybody seen Bullseye and his lady? Got some folks real anxious to locate them."

"This is Moondog. Negative on visual, but I heard they were headed east on the back roads."

"Copy that. Keep your eyes peeled, and let 'em know they've got friends out here if they need 'em."

Bullseye grabbed the radio as they emerged from the tunnel into late afternoon sunlight. "This is Bullseye. We copy, Moondog, and we appreciate the support."

"Well, I'll be damned! Where y'all been? Half the trucker network's been looking for you."

"Taking the scenic route. How's the situation out there?"

"Complicated. Got witch covens setting up checkpoints, Smokies running random stops, and word is there's some federal task force that just got activated. You two sure know how to make friends."

"It's a gift," Hazel said dryly.

"That your lady I hear?" Moondog's voice carried obvious amusement. "She sounds like trouble."

"The best kind," Bullseye replied, and meant it.

"Roger that. Y'all be careful out there. This thing's bigger than just a simple smuggling run now."

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the desert landscape rolling past outside the windows. The radio chatter continued—truckers reporting checkpoint locations, warning about suspicious vehicles, and generally keeping an eye out for their fellow drivers.

"They're really looking out for us," Hazel observed. "People they've never met."

"That's the brotherhood," Bullseye explained. "When you're living on the margins, you look out for each other. Today it's me and you. Tomorrow it might be them who need help."

"I like that. The idea of people having each other's backs just because it's the right thing to do."

"Not something you got a lot of in the witching community?"

Hazel's laugh was bitter. "The Three Counties United Witches Society is more about social climbing and whose garden produces the most potent herbs than any real support network. When I got engaged to Smokie, half of them congratulated me on 'marrying up' and the other half started plotting to steal the wedding planning contract."

"Sounds awful."

"It was. But this..." She gestured between them, then at the radio where truckers were still coordinating their informal protection network. "This feels real. Like maybe I've finally found where I belong."

Bullseye's heart did something complicated in his chest. "Hazel..."

"I know we barely know each other," she said quickly. "I know this is crazy and dangerous and probably the worst possible timing. But I can't pretend I don't feel this connection between us. And I don't want to."

"Neither do I," he admitted. "But you should know, after this job is done, I don't exactly have a normal life to offer you. This is what I do—high-risk transportation, staying one step ahead of the law, never knowing where the next job will take me."

"Sounds perfect," Hazel said promptly. "Normal was never really an option for me anyway."

"Plus," Hopper added, "normal is overrated. Look where normal got her—almost married to a guy who collects teddy bears."

The CB radio crackled again. "Breaker one-nine, this is Snowman with an update for Bullseye."

"Go ahead, Snowman."

"I've got good news and bad news. Good news is, I found us a safe place to hunker down for the night. Bad news is, those witch covens aren't giving up. They've got teams searching every truck stop and fuel station between here and our delivery point."

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