Bounty (Hunted Love Book 2) (7 page)

Tension seeped noticeably away from Falon's muscles as they rolled back onto the lot at the Rattlesnake, and Rita couldn't help but appreciate the way those more relaxed contours felt under her hands and pressed to her chest. What the hell had that been back there? Why had it made him so nervous?

She ran the scene back through her mind, but nothing really stuck out. It had all looked about as harmful as a marathon bridge tournament. He couldn't have recognized anyone at that distance, surely. The visibility had simply been too poor. So what did that leave, then?

By the time Falon let the bike stop in a little sheltered area between the camper and the storage shed, Rita still hadn't arrived at a conclusion that made sense. More than a bit reluctant, she slid off the bike, hating how the coolness of the night air replaced the warmth of his body on her front. The damn chin strap of the helmet had wound a thick stand of her hair around itself in a complex knot that required infinite patience to free, occupying the entire time Falon took to secure the bike.

Finished, he took a long slow look around, and seeming satisfied with everything, Falon took her hand and led her several yards across the lot, only to stop in what seemed a totally random spot. When he turned back toward the bike and carefully looked the area over, as if searching for some missing detail, at least he cleared up the mystery of where they'd stopped. At ten yards, the bike should be clearly visible from the security lighting, but it seemed well hidden in the parking spot he'd chosen.

That he felt the need to hide his bike sent a hard rock of apprehension to the bottomless pit of her stomach. "Falon, what's going on? Is someone looking for you?"

The debate over what to tell her played visibly across his features. "I hope not. If they had a lookout, or game cameras set up, or any sort of security measures, they very well could be."

"But why? Do you know them or something?"

His mouth tightened and put his hands on his hips, clearly indicating he'd said all he was going to.

"If you're in danger, shouldn't I know about it? After all, you're renting my camper, and I'd like to think we'll be sharing a bed some, too. So if you're in danger, doesn't that put me in danger?" Damn, maybe she shouldn't have put it that way. He could just as easily walk away and disappear forever.

But he sighed and dropped his hands. "Come inside, let me explain." He fished keys out and led the way to the camper.

Had she made a mistake? Or underestimated him when she considered Kellen more dangerous? Inside, he indicated she should sit at the little table, and offered her a beer from the mini-fridge concealed within the cupboard, then sat across from her.

"You're probably not going to like this, and I won't be surprised if, after you hear it, you decide I'm not the kind of guy you want renting your camper, or sharing your bed." A fine sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead, even though it wasn't all that hot. Worry?

"Why not just tell me first, then let me decide?" The top twisted off her beer with a satisfying
hiss
and she took the first sip. Hopefully it would make whatever he had to say go down a little easier.

He nodded and opened his own bottle, but rather than drink, he played with the bottle, making an elaborate pattern of interlocking wet rings on the table top. Clearly, her potential reaction to whatever he had to say concerned him.

"Look, just say it, okay? I'll listen first, then tell you what I think of it."

"You're right." He finally took a drink of his beer. "Okay, the thing is, what I told you earlier, about my wife and all that, was true. I just left out some. After I left the military, I took a job as a bounty hunter. It gives me something to do to occupy my mind, and I get to make a useful contribution to society." He looked up from where he'd started to strip the label from the beer bottle, clearly trying to gauge her reaction.

Rita shook her head, not getting what he might be apprehensive about. "Bounty hunter? As in…?"

"As in skip tracer, or whatever you want to call it. Someone gets in trouble, the judge sets bail, they get my boss to guarantee the bond. So if the person doesn't show back up for court when they're supposed to, my boss has to forfeit the full amount the judge set. To prevent that, my boss has me and several others who track down people he's bonded out if they don't show up the first time."

"Okay. So not like the old time bounty hunters, then, the ones who hunted down criminals for the reward money?" A slight sense of relief percolated through her chest as scenes from an old Western movie she'd watched with her father played through her mind. What he did
sounded
far less dangerous.

"No, not like that. Usually it's guys trying to skip out on paying child support." The beer label lay in tiny shreds on the table. "Anyway, I'm here hunting someone."

Child support? That didn't sound so bad at all. "You going to tell me who it is? I might even know him, make it a little easier for you to find him."

"Oh, I think you know him. I'm here for Tom Kellen."

She laughed a little. "Funny. Now who are you really looking for?" Her smile faded gradually under his steady gaze. She shook her head. "No. Falon, you can't go after him. Besides, he doesn't have any kids."

"No, he doesn't. He isn't wanted for child support either. But I have to go after him. And I have to get him." Each fragment of the label had become a tiny paper ball.

Rita's heart pounded with fear, which was ridiculous. The only thing she really knew about this man was that his kisses melted her bones in record time, and she wanted a whole lot more of them. Of their own volition, her hands lifted in a kind of helpless surrender. All she could do was wait for him to tell her more.

"I have to get him, partly because it's just what I do now, and partly to stop him from hurting anyone else. Over the years, far too many people have died by his hand, and that doesn't even consider the ones still living in the hell of addiction and loss." The little paper balls were all lined up in a neat square.

Her eyes fell closed and she forced them open again. What on Earth did he mean? Surely he'd mistaken Kellen for someone else. "That doesn't even make sense, Falon. I know Kellen's bad news. The whole Club is. But they aren't killers. Well, not in the usual sense, anyway. I'm sure they could, given the right reasons, but they don't."

Falon frowned at her, studying her for several very long moments, one brow lowered as if he worked at a puzzle. His lips parted, as if to say something, but then he raised one hand and rose from his seat. "Wait."

Like she could do much of anything else. She watched the play of muscles under the back of his t-shirt as he pulled a leather duffle bag from the tiny closet under the bunk. After a moment of sorting through the contents, he returned to the table with a thick manila envelope. Back in his seat, he slid a thick sheaf of papers out onto the table, and turned them to face her.

Kellen scowled back at her from the top sheet, a lurid bruise along the top of his cheekbone. "What is this?" She laid an index finger on the edge of the paper. The image was grainy, but unmistakable, and under it, a list of details, including height, weight, hair and eye color, and birthdate.

Falon flipped the first page back to reveal a list charges and convictions. "These are arranged by state and severity. You'll notice he has a pretty wide range of skills. Rita, the Hell Raiders are not what they seem. Yes, Kellen started the club as a teenager with his three friends, but did you, or anyone else, never wonder how a bunch of unemployed guys always have custom bikes and plenty of money?"

When he put it that way… "I guess we all preferred to look the other way."

He nodded. "Yeah, that's usually the case. And it's usually easier. If anyone had questioned them, things would have gone very badly. The Hell Raiders were patched over, or absorbed by, a much larger organization a few years back. Now they're part of the Brothers of Sin MC, an outlaw organization with ties to nearly every kind of criminal activity in the Appalachians."

Sickness rolled through the pit of her stomach as her subconscious recognized the truth. "One of them brought a woman back with him from somewhere, and she stayed here several months. She had a gorgeous tattoo that spread all across her right shoulder and went halfway down her back. It stood out to me because of the unusual wording at the time. It said something about being a
Sin Eater.
When I asked what that was, she said it was part of a women's MC she belonged to."

He frowned again and flipped through the stack of papers. "Here it is. The Sin Eaters are sort of the female equivalent to the Brothers of Sin. If anything, they're more brutal. Now, you ready for the really bad part?" He waited for her nod. "Kellen is now the National President of the Brothers of Sin."

Well, okay then. But how did that relate back to… "I guess I get that, though I'm more than a little shocked someone I know could be anything National. What doesn't make sense is how Kellen and the Hell Raiders, or the Brothers of Sin, have anything to do with the campers or whatever we saw tonight. There wasn't anything there that looked like they'd be involved in the slightest."

He gave her a blank look first, then understanding changed his expression. "Rita, that wasn't just some people camping or out raising hell. Did you notice some were sleeping and others working? They were manufacturing meth and getting it ready for distribution. Two of those tables were actually cooking it. Others were processing and packaging. By the time they're done, several pounds of new shit will be headed for the street."

***

Falon watched Rita read the file, able to easily track the progress of her understanding. Five pages in, she'd connected all the dots and reconciled the man in the file with the one who spent time in her tavern and around town. Around page twelve, understanding turned to horror as she read the allegations about the retaliation he'd led against a rival outlaw MC.

"So, why are they cooking meth here? I mean, I know there's a market for it, of course, but… why here?" She shrugged, the movement drawing his attention irresistibly to her breasts.

"Who knows? Whatever the reason, they're doing it. The Brothers are also heavily into the synthetics, so they're making that shit somewhere too, maybe here. Kellen and his Raiders don't cause a great deal of trouble around here, do they?" He'd started thinking along that line on his way to Stags Leap.

"Not really, no. They raise a little hell, but nothing major, no big charges."

He stood and started to pace, five steps one direction, turn, seven back past his chair, turn, back to the table. "He's deliberately keeping things clean here, so no one will look too closely at his activities. That means he can keep the supply rolling to meet demand, and no one bothers with him." It all made sense. Why else would a man who ran an organization like the Brothers spend most of his time as a nobody in a small town that didn't even have a place to watch a movie? Kellen could be living it up and rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, with the best of everything he wanted, from pussy to drugs to booze.

It made far more sense than the leading theory in that file. Some shrink had decided Kellen had some kind of social anxiety disorder and that he couldn't tolerate the lifestyle his position afforded him. The fact the idea had even made it into the file spoke volumes about the kind of people hunting the outlaw. No wonder he'd managed to walk right out of a courthouse before the locals realized who he was.

"So what are you supposed to do about it now?"

Well, that was the real question at hand, wasn't it? And Falon only knew one answer for it. He had to do his job, capture Kellen and bring him to justice. "My job, I guess." He dropped back into his seat, suddenly tired to the bone. It seemed like he'd always been tired, always heading into a deadly situation with stone killers on the other side. "Even though I can't do much about it tonight, I'll get started first thing tomorrow and figure out how to make it happen."

She reached across the table and touched his hand. "Well, you wouldn't want to go to work tired or on an empty stomach." One shoulder lifted in a casual gesture. "Why don't you come upstairs for some supper? At least you can get a good night's rest." Her lips curved in a slow smile that set his cock throbbing with need. "You hungry?"

He shifted in his chair, trying to make a bit more space in his jeans. "Depends."

Surprise flared her eyes for a moment. "On what?"

The jeans shrank some more. To hell with it. "What you're cooking and how many clothes you're wearing."

Rita stood and took his hand. "Well, why don't we just go find out?" She tugged gently at his hand until he rose to stand facing her. That smile widened just a little as she rose onto her tiptoes and reached for his mouth with hers.

Standing still as her lips brushed his proved far more difficult than he could have imagined. Her free hand rose and slid along his shoulder and to the back of his neck, where she applied pressure to convince him to lower his head. With better access, she nibbled along his lower lip, sending his pulse into high gear.

She drew back. "Come on, Falon."

Before he could consider a reply, she turned and headed out the camper door with a shy, and simultaneously provocative, smile that sent a fresh surge of heat through his blood stream. Damn. He couldn't leave all the papers about Kellen and his operations spread all over the table for any jackass who happened to spring the lock on his door. Hopefully Rita would wait for him.

The papers finally all wound up back in the envelope, and Falon got it back into his bag and concealed in the false bottom, and the bag stashed. An hour or more must have passed, as much as his fingers fumbled. And then getting the camper locked up took twice as long. He turned toward the stairs that climbed the back of the Rattlesnake, fearing Rita would have changed her mind. But there she stood at the top of the steps, just a tempting dark form against the soft light spilling from her door.

Going up the stairs proved an uncomfortable operation, with his hard-on pinched in his jeans with every step of upward progress. The thought of touching and tasting every inch of that gorgeous body ensured he grew even harder by the time he reached the top.

Rita had gone inside already, and he followed, pausing only long enough to close and lock her door. The last thing he wanted was any sort of intrusion from the outside world. Her shoes sat in the floor, three steps from the door, and a few steps further, her shirt lay in a messy heap. She'd left a trail and he eagerly pursued.

That black lacy bra lay at the exit from the living room, drawing him into a narrow hallway. Barely visible in the reduced light, her jeans shot images of that luscious, naked body and inspired him to hurry. Lace panties crumpled in a darkened doorway indicated he should enter, and he lost no time.

Candlelight danced from a small table against the wall opposite the door, and cast shadows across the big brass bed with its handmade quilted coverlet. On top of that bed, Rita lay, deliciously nude, tempting every fiber of him to taste and touch, to possess and consume. He paused at the foot of her bed, and peeled off his shirt with trembling hands. Removing his boots without taking his gaze from her breasts proved to be a real challenge, but he finally managed it.

The jeans made him hesitate a moment. Would she think he took her for granted? Or that he wouldn't take no for an answer? And what about… Well, he'd always been pretty confident in that area, but still, what if she found him lacking? He shrugged mentally. If that was the case, better to find out now than later. With that question settled, he opened his jeans and shoved them down his hips, briefs and all.

Rita hissed when he straightened, and her eyes glittered dark in the candlelight. One fingertip trailed up and down the center of her chest, drawing his gaze to her breasts. "You're taking an awful long time, Falon. I almost thought you didn't want me." Her voice, low and sultry, caressed his balls and made his cock surge even harder. "But now I see that isn't the problem."

"No, wanting you is definitely not an issue right now. The first time that happened was when I came up to you at your bar where you were working." Fuck, that sounded dumb. She'd think he was the village idiot. He circled to the side of the bed, painfully aware of his erection on full display and practically twitching for her touch. Yeah, he'd waited too long, because, no doubt, he was about to shame himself.

Rita smiled up at him again and patted the mattress at her side with one hand, while the other slid down her belly. "Don't be shy, Falon. I promise I won't bite. Unless you ask me to."

He sat beside her, fascinated with the path her fingers took, while his mouth watered to taste that silky skin. Reacting to the need, he turned a little to partially face her and grabbed the teasing hand and brought it to his lips. A small smile came in reflex to her startled squeal as he placed the first kiss on the tip of her index finger.

Time stood still for him to kiss and lick and suck each of her fingers and make all sorts of promises about his plans. By the time he reached her pinky and let his tongue play across the sensitive little pad, she had stopped trying to pull away, and just watched him with wide-eyed fascination.

Satisfied with her fingers, he moved to give her palm and wrist equal attention, then on up her inner arm. At her shoulder, a moment of indecision came over him; should he go up and taste her lips, or down to kiss her breasts? Rita took the decision out of his hands, though, and clasped her hands at the nape of his neck and drew him to her mouth, simultaneously drawing him up and over her.

Falon smiled against her lips allowed his tongue to taste. Her eager response quickly deepened the kiss and drew his hands to explore. He supported his weight with one elbow to free the other arm entirely and allow him greater access to her body. With limited use of his left hand, he threaded the fingers through her hair, letting the strands of black silk surround and take hostage.

The other hand slid down to cup her breast and tease the hardened nipple, drawing a moan from her. He left her mouth and kissed down her neck, determined to taste the treasure his fingers had discovered. His tongue flicked across the rosy, pebbled skin and Rita arched against his mouth, asking for more, while her nails raked his scalp to spur him on. Falon groaned with the strain of holding back the need. 

Rita slid one hand between them and wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock and guided him over her and between her thighs. With the other hand, she rolled the condom she'd opened earlier over him. He would have preferred to wait on that a little, and relish the touch of her skin on his bare cock, but he wasn't into taking chances either. He moved to leave her breasts and kiss his way down over her belly.

She kept her fingers around his shaft and raised her legs to press her heels to the backs of his thighs. "I need you inside first."

He hesitated. Could she be ready from just a few kisses? "You're sure?"

She lifted her hips rather than reply, and brought her wet heat against the tip of his erection, and before he knew it, he was at her entrance. Happy to meet her demand, he pushed inside her, slow and careful, allowing her time to adjust to his size. Until she lifted her hips more and impaled herself, taking all of him in one stroke.

Falon hissed, struggling to hang on to enough sanity to keep from driving into her sweet body until he found his release, to hell with anything else. Finally he had enough control to draw back and thrust into her again and to find a rhythm that let him reach every part of her.

Already she begged him to go faster, to come with her. The inferno of her body flexed and contracted around him with every stroke, driving him to fulfil her wishes. Beyond waiting, he lost all sense of time, all rhythm, everything except the need to fill her and her need to have him. A white-hot explosion went off at the base of his spine and he sank into her one last time, while she tightened around him and cried out.

His breathing and pulse began to return to normal about the time the shame set in. How could he have been so selfish?

***