Bounty (Hunted Love Book 2)

Bounty

Hunted Love #2

By Aden Lowe

© 2014 by Aden Lowe
All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Aden Lowe or his legal representative.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

**Translation: If you make a copy of this file and share it with friends, whether it is one or one million friends, you are breaking the law, even if you receive nothing in return. If you receive this file from a friend, both you and your friend are breaking the law. No readers' clubs, groups or associations are authorized to distribute this book on behalf of the authors. Amazon.com is the only authorized online distributor. If you need a different format, please contact the author.

Author's Notes:

This series contains scenes of sexual activity. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, by any of the characters within is entirely accidental.

Finally, I genuinely hope you enjoy reading "Bounty" as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Acknowledgements:

Thanks to all the members of the Aden Lowe's Huntresses Street Team, The Lowe-Down Fan Group, and all the other readers and fans who have so generously supported me with their time and effort and enthusiasm. Kathy Armstrong, thank you for naming Stags Leap, Kentucky. Thanks to a former team member for suggesting the winning name for the tavern, Rita's Rattlesnake, and Lee Ann Kanowsky, thank you for suggesting the winning name for the Brothers of Sin MC.

Since Big Game published, I and the members of my team have gone through a, sometimes painful, transition. I ended a business partnership with another author and stepped out on my own. Like any major change, it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. Heartfelt thanks to the members of my team who stood bravely at my side through it all despite the consequences. My PA, Ashley Wheels, has done a phenomenal job of putting my ideas about marketing to work, and has faithfully upheld my beliefs and principles. Thank you, rotten girl ;)

Elyse, you know what you mean to me. That's the one thing in life guaranteed to never change.

Falon Harris tried to keep his mind from wondering, he really did, but it was a losing battle from the start. Jerry Smith had to possess the most aggravating voice in the world, leaving no option except to tune him out as much as possible. Only the coffee and donuts from across the street made the Monday morning briefings tolerable for Falon and the five other men around the table. Had Jerry given them any other option, they wouldn't sit through the hour-long meeting every week. But if they wanted to work, they had no choice.

"Harris, up next." Jerry tossed a packet of papers on the table in front of Falon, drawing his attention back to the meeting. "You've got a genuine bad man there, since you didn't have any trouble with the dead-beat dad file. A CI got word to me last week that this one supposedly went home. Probably feels safe there, since bounty hunting isn't legal in Kentucky. You'll have to find him, catch him, and get him to another state to be legal."

Great. He finally got to bring down something more than some jackass that wouldn't pay his child support. Except when he caught this one, he'd have no backup. Local law enforcement could easily consider him just as much a criminal.

For the fourteenth consecutive Monday, Falon considered tossing the envelope back across the table and walking out. As before, only fear stilled his hand. If he didn't have this job tracking down fugitives for a bail bondsman, he would have time to think. Not a good thing. So he folded the manila envelope in half lengthwise and stuffed it in his back pocket, picked up his hat and coffee, and headed for the door.

"Harris."

Falon paused with one hand on the doorknob. "Yeah?" One more thing stacked against him on this one, and he would walk.

"This one isn't your ordinary bail jumper. He's a real badass, and rumored to have made several badges disappear, but nothing sticks to him. He jumped on a Domestic Violence charge, and the only reason they bonded him out was that the Justice Center computers went offline. There were no active warrants, so they didn't realize exactly what he was before he walked out free." Jerry paused for a sip of coffee. "He's scary smart, and he runs a tight operation. No one rolls on him, because they're more afraid of him than they are of doing hard time. You keep your ass covered out there. You'll be working entirely without a net. Take all the time you need. Besides the bond, there's a federal reward on him. Just check in on Monday mornings."

"Got it." Falon cursed under his breath as he went through the door. Just his luck. More bad news, and his damn back still refused to turn on the job. If anything, the guy being dangerous ensured Falon had to try. All that time picking up child support evaders, and they send him after a cop killer on his first real hunt for them. Of course, some of the Al Qaeda targets he'd brought in would probably make this
real bad man
look like a pussy, but the guy who assigned their cases had no idea of that. Made him wonder if he'd pissed someone off in the big office.

The hundred yards down the street to his parking spot seemed like a marathon, but he eventually reached it, stashed the envelope and his hat in the saddlebag and swung astride his Harley. Might as well figure out what and where, then hit the road as soon as he grabbed a change of clothes, his razor and toothbrush. He wouldn't earn that reward sitting on his ass and wasting time.

By the time he turned off the main road a few miles from town, he'd started making a mental list. This would require a more complex plan than he'd needed previously in this job. His heart started to pound, just like back in the day when orders came down for a new target. Finally.

At last, maybe something had found a way through the stone façade of pain he'd built around himself. Perhaps he had found a way to keep his heart beating and his lungs working a little while longer. He pushed the morbid thoughts aside as he slowed and leaned the bike into the turn to his driveway. He had no time for such bullshit. And he sure as hell couldn't afford to get sucked into the past and all the hurt and betrayal that went with it.

The little house he rented stood at the end of the narrow drive, half-concealed from the road by three massive oak trees. In another lifetime, the place might have served as a refuge, a quiet place to spend time with those he loved. These days it was just another torture chamber, a place where he couldn't get away from memories best left buried. The nightmares sought noise and crowds, forcing him to find quiet solitude to keep them somewhat at bay.

Inside, the place resembled a monk's cell more than a home. Falon hadn’t bothered to try and make it comfortable or welcoming. He wasn't there enough to worry about the niceties, even if he'd cared. The little bedroom held only a mattress and springs on a Hollywood frame, with one pillow, a sheet, and a thrift store blanket as concessions to comfort. A cheap laundry basket in the bottom of the little closet stored socks and underwear, eliminating the need for a dresser. Less than five minutes later, he finished packing by dropping his zippered shaving kit into the beat up old leather duffle bag.

In the living room he dropped into the threadbare recliner he'd bought from a thrift store, and turned the mostly black-and-white television on to a twenty-four hour news channel. A green strip held the center of the screen, catching his attention for a second, before he turned to open the manila envelope. Time to learn all he could about his quarry.

Falon read through the packet several times, then used the web browser on his smartphone to study maps of the area where the wanted man was suspected to be hiding out. With as much information as possible committed to memory, he turned everything off and locked the house up. Less than forty minutes from the time he turned into his driveway, he gunned his bike out of it.

The weather was perfect for travel, warm but not hot and Falon enjoyed the feel of the miles falling away behind him. He stopped for lunch and to stretch his legs in a little town at the side of the interstate. The little diner he chose was quiet in the middle of the afternoon, the only other customer a young mother riding herd on two rambunctious little boys who stared at his bike with open-mouthed awe.

When he finished and left, the mother was in the parking lot, trying in vain to convince the kids to get in the car. Instead, they stood looking at his bike, dodging her attempts to get her hands on them, and talking in their excited childish voices. Each apparently knew some important fact that the other disputed vehemently, from the bits and pieces of their conversation Falon could make out.

He watched for a moment, then inspiration struck and he approached the mother. "Ma'am? If it's okay with you, they can sit on my bike for a minute. You can help them up." Damn, he was a fool. Should have just shooed them away and hit the road and never looked back.

The lady looked at him in surprise. "Uh, yeah, if you're sure."

Too late, he was stuck now. No getting out of it. He nodded and approached the boys and squatted down to their level. "Hey, li'l men, I'll make a deal with you."

The boys stared in wide-eyed silence and inched closer to their mother.

"You can get on my bike for a minute, sort of try it on for size,
if
you agree to listen to your momma and get in the car for her when you get off."

Broad grins spread across chubby little faces and the little boys nodded eagerly while their mother looked on in relief.

He pulled his helmet off the handlebar and held it up. "First rule of motorcycles, always wear your lid. Who's first?" The smaller boy stepped forward. Falon glanced at the mother and when she nodded permission, put the helmet on the child and fastened the chin strap. Again with the mother's permission, he lifted the boy and set him astride the bike and showed him how to hold the handlebars.

He stepped back a moment, while the happy child made various engine noises and squealed pretend tires. A vague ache settled somewhere in the middle of his gut. He'd figured he'd have one of those by now. If Chelsea hadn't betrayed him, he might have. He clenched his jaw and pushed the pain away forcefully.

"Alright, li'l man, time to give your brother a turn." He repeated the helmet routine with the other boy and lifted him onto the bike. The first child gripped his mother's hand, face glowing with excitement.

"Sir, I can't thank you enough." The mother's soft voice barely carried above the little biker's engine noises. "Their daddy's gone and it's hard to give them the guy things they need."

"No thanks necessary, ma'am. Kids need stuff like that." He turned to the little biker. "Okay, li'l man, time to go to your momma. I've got to roll. I have a lot of miles to put down before night." He lifted the kid off the bike and when he went to his mother, squatted again to talk to both of them. "You li'l men want to be real bikers?" The kids nodded eagerly, eyes sparkling. "Okay, here's the most important part of being a biker. You always respect your momma, and other ladies, and you always help other people. Think you can do that?" More excited nods. Falon held his fist up and showed them how to fist bump. "Alright, get in the car for your momma and take good care of her."

The kids scrambled to do his bidding, chattering once more while their mother gave him an appraising look, including a glance at his left hand. The lack of a wedding ring there seemed to give her courage. "Maybe if you're going to be around later…"

Falon shook his head and swung onto the bike. "Nah, I'm just passing through. You take care of those little boys. And don't be selling yourself short just because you're tired of being alone." He started the engine, not waiting to hear what she might have to say. He didn't want to know. One hand lifted in salute to the kids, he rolled the bike out of the space and took off. The sooner he got back on the road the better, before temptation made him take that lonely lady up on her not-so-subtle offer. That just would not be good all the way around.

***