Vengeful Bounty (20 page)

Embarrassment lit a fire of defensive pride inside of me. I ran a frustrated hand through my hair. I couldn't stay here with him, not like this. I needed time and space to face what happened last night. I needed him to see me as the strong, confident Mina I really was—not the damn damsel in distress. That just wasn't me. I wouldn't let it be me. I couldn't.

“Jackson?” I said. He looked into my eyes, and I had to consciously calm the rush of my heart. “Trust me.”

Why couldn't I be gracious and promise him that I'd stay away from Roberto, after all he'd done for me last night?

Why?

I was afraid, that's why. Afraid of what was about to happen between the two of us if he looked at me like that one more time. I knew the dangerous world of bounty hunting. It was familiar, with all its dangers and near-death experiences. One didn't have to deal with too many emotions being a bounty hunter, only the drive and adrenaline of the chase and the satisfaction of the catch. This feeling that Jackson was radiating—I didn't understand its power, the way it threatened to take me into a world out of my control, a world I didn't know, where deep feelings might just be reciprocated.

“I'm really grateful for what you did,” I said. “But my father and brother are probably worried out of their minds, and I really need to get ahold of them and let them know I'm okay. There's just a lot I need to do.” I looked down at my nightshirt. “Hey, do you have any pants I could borrow? This is a nice getup and all, but it might not be proper dress code for the public.”

“Sure, anything. But I—”

“Great! And shoes. If you could just show me where I could get them, I'll get dressed and get going now.”

I turned to leave the room, but he rushed in front of me, and immediately I stopped.

“Mina, I—”

I held up a hand. “Jackson, I know what you're going to say. It's dangerous. And I know what sort of state I was in last night, but I'm better now, and I have to do this.”

“I wasn't going to tell you what to do because you're going to do it regardless of what I think,” Jackson said, stepping closer to me to take my hand in his. “And that's just you, I guess. It's one of the things I really like about you, even if it is kinda pissing me off right now.”

I looked up at him. His hair accented his face in sporadic wisps. The slight scent of Old Spice touched my nose. He was standing very close to me. The short sleeve button down he wore was opened at the top to reveal the chains of several necklaces that fell out of sight within the garment.

“Well,” I said, my voice a little weak, “what then?”

He cautiously let my hand go, then lifted his hand, held it above my shoulder for a second, and brought the backs of his fingers down my shoulder, arm, and stopped at my fingers, caressing them.

“When I found you last night, it terrified me,” he said. “Finding you like that, you were bleeding, I mean, my god! And so weak, I—I don't think—I mean, I
know
I've never been so crushed. I just never would've imagined finding you like that, ever. I'm so glad I found you.”

My heart started doing strange little flips behind my ribcage.

He lowered his face, his lips dangerously close to my forehead. Lifting it a bit, the angular bone of his shaved jaw brushed the top of my head, and he breathed in the scent of my hair. He trailed his hand back up my arm so very cautiously it was almost like the ethereal touch of a ghost—or an angel.

I barely breathed.

“I—I just feel like you should know that,” he said.

“I should get going now,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

I could've let him do what he wanted to do, and what I felt like I wanted to do at the time, but I knew I'd never forgive myself. The timing was all wrong. I wasn't sure about this. There were too many things to consider.

I pulled away from him and smiled, and the look of concern, care, and desire threatened to weaken my legs.

“So, those pants?” I asked.

He smiled a side grin, running a hand through his hair.

Breaking eye contact, he patted me on the shoulder.

“This way, my friend,” he said, and led the way out of his music room.

22

Jackson dropped me off at Colt's house. I hadn't realized that I'd slept so long. As day transitioned into dusk, I got out of Jackson's car and hesitated before I shut the door.

He'd been gracious enough to spare some of his mother's pants and shoes—we were luckily about the same size. I'd promised to wash everything and return them. He'd shrugged it off. I also got to say hello to Daisy, his sweet little dachshund. She'd wagged her tail and rolled over to let me pet her belly.

Jackson and I hadn't spoken much during the car ride over. The silence was potent. I sensed there were things he wanted to say but didn't.

“Thank you,” I said through the open doorway. The sun set in a brilliant mix of fiery colors at my back. “I'll call you soon.”

His eyes peeked out from over his sunglasses. “Promise?”

I nodded.

I shut the door, and he waited for me to get to Colt's porch before he started hovering away. A.J. swung the door open, and Jackson sped up down the street and turned out of sight.

A.J. screamed for Colt upon seeing me and ushered me inside.

I was tackled in a hug, looked over, cursed at.

The next ten minutes consisted of Colt informing me in a high-pitched voice that he'd gone over to my apartment to pick me up for sparring, as we'd planned. And just as I'd hoped, he'd found me gone and taken the dog, who had used the bathroom on the carpet. He knew something was wrong, and he, A.J., Brian, and my dad had gone out like a search party for me. Colt scolded me (with expletives that nearly melted the paint off the wall) for worrying them all sick, and A.J. piped in every now and then with pointed “yeah's.” I apologized profusely then gasped for breath when the both squeezed me in a bear hug.

When Rogue ran up to my feet from the other room and put his paws on my leg, I nearly wept with relief. Picking him up, I told him I'd missed him and kissed his head.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” I said with a choked voice.

Then it was time for an explanation.

I told them a slightly more detailed version than I'd told Jackson—but not everything. Murder crept into Colt's eyes. A.J.'s expression wasn't that far off.

What I did
not
tell them was I'd only been a few days away from being sold to the highest bidder in New Orleans. And that Roberto was planning on having his disgusting way with me.

I also did not tell them I'd be going after Roberto.

If I had, they would've tied me to a chair and gone after him themselves, and probably killed him in the process, leaving me no chance of taking him in as my Number 25.

“He was holding me there for ransom,” I lied. “He's not nearly as powerful as Nando. He's just playing games. He would've released me, but I escaped.”

“Thank heavens,” Colt said, his face grim. “Where is he now?”

“Jackson found me near The Dallas Care Center Hospital,” I said. “So he said. The next step is to find out who was letting him use the basement.”

A.J. nodded. It was pretty clear that he'd already taken it upon himself.

“Who knows?” I said. “Roberto might still be around. But I highly doubt it. I heard him talk about heading back to Italy soon.”

My body tingled with shame for telling such bold-faced fibs, but the desire for personal revenge ran far too deep within me to screw up my opportunity. Colt told me that Dad had gotten a phone call when my car was impounded—he'd been the cosigner. Dad had retrieved the car (and my identification I'd left inside it) and had parked it at his house for safekeeping.

Colt then called Dad, who was at work, and told him the story exactly as I had. Dad also released a string of sailor-like curses. I heard him demand to speak to me. I took the phone and my eyes misted up when I saw his eyes so filled with anger driven by his love for me. We didn't talk long; it was mainly just to assure him that I was all right. Days of fretting had exhausted his features and had dug stress lines into his face. I told him I loved him. He said to come get the car whenever I wanted. He told me he loved me.

Colt discreetly muttered into the phone, “I'll call you back.” I pretended not to notice. I imagine they wanted to discuss the whole situation a little more and probably plot some revenge of their own. My family has always been extremely protective. I'm lucky. Not all are.

“Let's go get your car,” he said.

I nodded and followed him out of the house.

“Dad's been out of his mind,” he said.

“So you've told me several times,” I said.

“We
both
have.”

“I know.”

I only hoped, with twangs of guilt rushing my blood, that I'd be lucky enough to stay one step ahead of them before they figured out the truth.

* * *

At home with my door locked and my lights off, I found I couldn't stand on my feet any longer. I slowly pulled some of the smaller bandages off of me and tossed them in the incinerator. Before I crashed, I called my friend Eloise in Oklahoma, who was going to let me stay at her bed and breakfast while I sought out Daniel Martin. I told her I'd had some setbacks here at home and apologized for not calling sooner. She'd been concerned, but figured I'd eventually call. Sweet Eloise. I kept it short and told her I'd call her soon to catch up on life. It wasn't even 10:00 p.m., and I'd already slept most of the day, but that peaceful respite from wakening life called to me yet again.

In my bed with Rogue curled up next to my fetal-positioned body, I let sleep take me once more. I had no dreams. And when I woke up, I felt a significant portion of my fatigue evaporate.

It was Monday.

There had been a moment, chained to that awful hospital bed, with days of sweaty grime caked on my face, when I'd stared at the camera and knew immediately who I'd ask to come and aid me if and when I went after Roberto.

I knew that if I were to claim Roberto as one of my tally marks in my list of catches, I'd only be able to take one other bounty hunter. Group catches didn't really count, if you were keeping track and wanting to go Global. Bounty hunters had to do most of their nabs alone. We were allowed five shared catches. Lucky me, I had four. That left me with one.

So I would be able to use a partner for this last one.

Originally, I'd wanted to catch Dan alone in Oklahoma. I wanted the satisfaction of bringing him into the police station singlehandedly, thus proving to myself, and others even more, that I was ready to go Global. But things were different now.

Yes, during that moment of clarity in the pale green-tiled basement room, I knew who I wanted, and that person was Hitomi Aomori.

Daughter of Gakuya Aomori, Dad's old partner, Hitomi had been a Global bounty hunter by the age of 19, right around when I was getting my feet wet in the business. With a father like Gakuya, it was no wonder. She had it in her genes. She was older than I was, in her 30s. I wasn't sure of her exact age, only that she looked young enough to be my kid sister.

She had a beautiful porcelain face, a tiny five-foot frame, and strikingly astute dark eyes lined in feathers of black lashes. She kept her hair cut pixie short, adding to her youthful, innocent appearance; she was anything but. She was deadly. I'd been lucky enough to spar with her once, and she had me on my back with the blunt edge of her practice sword at my throat within seconds.

We'd met at her father's funeral. I never would forget her immediate loyalty to Colt and me, due to my father having saved her father's life. And though it only earned him a few more years, she was forever indebted. She'd given me a unique phone—one that would literally call her body.

Married to a biochemical engineer (a very wealthy, controversial engineer who frequently wound up in the news for his state-of-the-art inventions, I might add), Hitomi always put herself up to be a guinea pig by trying out her husband's new inventions. He'd installed a microchip in her that could be read via satellite anywhere in the world. The phone she gave me could call her and give me a perfect hologram image of her. She'd told me at the funeral to use it day or night, if I ever should need anything. With Hitomi, there was no need to “build” a relationship. I was immediately family. And I trusted her. One simply knew she was honest—it was a feeling of straight, solid intuition—and she was a valuable friend to have. No, not valuable: priceless.

She was also the only other girl I knew that liked to play Chess. And she was good. The couple of times I beat her, she'd mulled over it for days until she'd figured out where she went wrong. Nothing was ever a “game” to her. It was all about winning. And it wasn't because of some prideful reason like Damon's, with winning giving him his whole self-worth; to Hitomi, coming out number one was essential because she prized perfection. It was, as she so eloquently quoted, “our responsibility as an evolving race of beings.” She believed it was only a matter of time before we as humans ventured away from Earth and joined “the rest of the universe.” She always had this twinkle in her eye, like she knew something the rest of us didn't. When one thought of Hitomi, the things that always came to mind for me were the great mysteries of life: the ancient pyramids, star nebulas, telekinesis. I swear I'd seen her soften metals and bend them with her mind. She was, simply put, amazing.

I waited until the evening to call her—Japan was about 15 hours ahead of Texas time.

I opened my weapon closet and pulled out the silver triangular transmitter phone. I'd never used it before, in part because I'd never needed to, and secondly, because I didn't want to bother her. But the circumstances of late pointed everything in her direction. I knew there was a very large chance that she was busy with a catch of her own, or possibly had plans to attend a world-class banquet with her husband, or any other thing that someone of her caliber might have on her schedule. I knew that. But I thought I'd give it a shot anyway. What more could a desperate person do?

So after eating a quiet dinner at the kitchen table with Rogue munching away at his food on the floor, I pressed the center of the triangular phone, and the whole device lit up a glowing blue.

I sipped on my tea and set the phone on the placemat before me and waited.

Just as she'd promised, a perfect hologram of her appeared—it wasn't grainy or greenish blue as most were. It was so good she almost looked opaque. She stood leaning against an elaborate wooden trellis and smiled. She wore a long lacy robe with a silk nightgown underneath.

“Good morning, Mina,” she said, her accent only slight. “I was hoping you'd call me sometime.”

“You still aren't angry about that last Chess match?” I asked, smiling at the confident mystery of her.

“Not at all.” She let her eyes watch something ahead of her that I couldn't see. “I told you I should've been more careful with my rook. What can I do for you?”

“I'm not calling at a bad time, am I?”

I was starting to feel guilty, asking her to come join me on this journey of revenge. It wasn't right. She would refuse anyway. She had a million more important things to do.

“I could call at another time if you've just gotten up,” I said, starting to fret that maybe I'd made an immature mistake.

“Oh, no-no-no!” she said. “I've been up for nearly an hour now.” She stretched her back with feline grace and put the nail file down into her robe's pocket. “I woke early and gave Mr. Kanagawa a particularly lovely bout of passion this morning.” She winked. “But trust me, he's well on his way to work now. You're not interrupting anything but my boredom.”

She could be so cryptic at times, yet at others, extremely blunt. Mr. Kanagawa was her husband. I didn't know his first name. She hadn't taken his last name upon their marriage, which had caused an outright uproar among her circle. She had, however, insisted on keeping the name she'd been born with, for personal reasons. (I had suspicions that she simply liked controversy and thrived on breaking out of certain old traditions she didn't see a use for anymore.)

“You're calling me because of something important,” she said. “Otherwise you would not have used this phone. How can I be of service?”

I took in a deep breath. “Actually, yes. You're pretty much the only one I could call about this. You see, I need you to help me make one final catch before I go Global.”

She gasped and brought her slender arms upward, covering her mouth in a coy way that made me think of a little toy Geisha doll.

“And to what do I attribute this honor?” she asked. “Are your brother and father not available?”

“Oh, they are. They just don't know about this. They can't. And I mean, I could do it alone, but this catch is important. I have to get
this
guy and this guy alone.”

I bit my lip, hoping she wouldn't ask too many questions, at least not right now. I'd explain more when—if—she got here.

Her face fell solemn, turning her expression from a little girl's into that of an ancient sage.

“A private matter,” she said, narrowing her eyes contemplatively. “Something personal and quite important to my sister, Mina. How much time do we have?”

“Well, it's Monday here, and I have a tip that will take me to my man Wednesday evening. And I know there's a lot to tell, Hitomi, so much. My peace rests on this. And my future. And you have to keep it under wraps. Absolutely under no circumstance can my father and brother find out about this. It'll be my—”

She held up her hand, stopping me right in the middle of my desperate little rant. Then she looked up into what would be her sky but appeared to be staring right up at me.

“No more to say, Mina,” she said. “I'll see you soon.”

She closed her eyes, and I don't know how she did it, but she ended the transmission.

I sat back in my chair, my heart beating with the excitement of a child who would soon be getting a visit from her personal superhero. She was really coming.