His voice was smiling when he remarked, “So you’re sayin’ you like pepperoni and mushroom only.”
I lifted my head and looked at him. “I like all that stuff, just not on pizza. All that stuff makes it complicated. I’m into simple pleasures.”
His amazing eyes warmed and his amazing lips murmured, “I’ll remember that.”
I could get lost in those eyes. I wanted to get lost in those eyes.
But I needed to stay on target.
“Can you tell me something?” I asked suddenly.
His eyes got warmer and his smile hit his lips when he replied, “I can tell you that you asking me if I can tell me something is the same as you askin’ me if you can ask me somethin’. In other words, you don’t have to ask.”
“Noted,” I muttered.
“So ask, I’ll tell,” he prompted.
“Whatever you’re going off to do, are you safe?”
His smile faded and I stared in horrified fascination as it did.
Holy Moses!
I’d been guessing!
“It isn’t safe?” This came out as a squeak.
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“Holy Moses!” I cried, no longer semi-freaked. I was gone.
“Hanna, we’ll talk about it later.”
“Will you be back later?” I asked, borderline hysterically.
His smile came back. “Yeah.”
“Just pointing out, Raiden, you’re about to drop me off, telling me to take a nap but you’ve got some things to share with me later that you told me straight up I have to deal with. Then you intimate strongly that whatever it is you do is unsafe, and you’re off to do whatever it is you do right now. So I’m not in the mood to smile nor am I in the mood to watch you do it, no matter how hot you are when you do.”
He didn’t quit smiling.
Instead, he asked, “You wanna talk more about us going slower now?”
Was he serious?
I tore out of his arms, twisted to the door and threw it open, announcing, “Time for my nap!”
I found an arm hooked around my waist and was twisted back into the Jeep and Raiden’s arms, this time both of which he locked around me.
Then his eyes locked on mine.
“I’ll be back safe and you’ll be cool with what I do, Hanna,” he declared firmly.
“Right. I believe you. But can I make the request now that I have at least a date number five before you rock my world again?”
Another grin then, “I think I can accomplish that.”
“I’d be obliged.”
“You wanna quit bein’ cute so I can let you go, you can get your nap and I can get this shit done?”
“I’ll remind you not a minute ago I tried to exit this vehicle, but you hauled me back.”
“I’ll take that as a no.”
I glared.
Raiden kept smiling.
Then he muttered strangely, “My reward.”
I lost my glare and asked, “Sorry?”
He lifted up, kissed my forehead and whispered there, “Nothin’, baby.” Then he pulled away, ordering, “Go. Rest.”
I needed to go. I hoped I could rest, but I studied him a moment before I leaned in to touch my mouth to his.
His arms came around me, his mouth opened over mine and my touch became a hot, heavy kiss.
Raiden broke it and ordered again, “Go.”
“Okay,” I mumbled. He let me go and I went.
I stood at the door in numero uno of my Sunday’s finest dresses (I did go to church with Raiden Ulysses Miller) and waved.
He didn’t wave back, but I did see him smile.
I closed the door and wandered up the stairs, listening to his Jeep drive away.
I took off my heels by the side of the bed. I climbed in, pulled an afghan over me (mine, not cashmere but still lush) and stared at my pillow, thinking this was how it felt.
This was how it felt when something huge was happening.
It felt fantastic.
And I was scared out of my wits.
Chapter Eleven
Criminal
That evening…
I sat tucked into the corner of my frou-frou, fluffy, girlie, cutesie couch in my countrified, quirky living room and watched Raiden, who’d just gone to the kitchen to get his second beer, fold his long body at the other end.
The pizza was annihilated, that always awkward sliver of a slice the only piece left. Raiden had got it from the place in town so it was the best and I was hungry so I tucked in, forgetting (momentarily, like always) about the little stomach pouch I needed to get gone.
It was a minor miracle, considering all that was on my mind, but I’d managed a two hour nap.
Then the phone started ringing.
Apparently, the town of Willow had decided they’d given me enough time to cope, that time was up, so all and sundry called to check if I was okay after the Bodhi and Heather debacle. This invariably segued into digging for gold, thus most of them asked if it was true, since I was seen at Chilton’s, Rachelle’s, the Deluxe and at church with him; if I was seeing Raiden Ulysses Miller
It was not lost on me that things were moving fast with Raiden, but regardless I knew very little about him. However, I sensed he was the kind of man who would not be fond of people in his business. So although I confirmed what me being seen all over town with Raiden stated, since it was the truth, I didn’t get into any details. After that, I explained the last few days had been trying, I was exhausted and I needed some time to process it all.
Luckily, the folks of Willow were kind, so they left it at that. Unfortunately, there were a lot of residents of Willow I knew since I’d lived my whole life there, so that message didn’t get relayed quickly enough before others picked up the phone and called.
Therefore I had the phone to my ear when I opened the door to Raiden holding a pizza box in one hand and a six pack of Fat Tire in the other.
He grinned at me.
I rolled my eyes, let him in and did my best to get rid of my caller as Raiden dropped the box on the coffee table in the living room. He sauntered to the kitchen like he’d lived in my house since birth, came out with two plates, napkins and two opened beers. He’d already dug into a slice by the time I beeped the off button on my phone and joined him.
All this activity meant I didn’t have time to freak out about the upcoming talk with Raiden, which was good.
What was bad was that he drank and ate. He asked about the call, the rest of the calls (once he’d learned of them) and my nap. But he did not do what I’d hoped.
And that was launch right into the conversation we needed to have that included me freaking, then dealing with learning about whatever he did for a living.
So I gave it until there was only that awkward sliver of pizza left and Raiden got up to get another beer, asking me if I wanted one. I was sipping, keeping my wits about me. Raiden was taking long, manly pulls, therefore I had half a beer left and I declined.
He got his beer and was putting it on the coffee table, not going for the last slice, which I decided indicated he was done eating, so I also decided it was time.
As he was settling back in the couch, I prompted cautiously, “Raiden, you were going to tell me some things.”
He wasn’t fully back, and at my words he stopped, his head turned to me and he studied me for long moments that made me fight to keep myself from squirming on the couch with worry and impatience.
Then he sat back and spread his arms out. One he draped on the armrest, the other on the back, claiming my frou-frou, girlie sofa so thoroughly with his sexy, masculine vibe that for a second my mind blanked.
Then his deep voice announced, “I’m a bounty hunter.”
My mind came back into the room.
Was that it?
A bounty hunter?
Sweet relief swept through me.
Sure. Raiden had been right. Being a bounty hunter was unconventional.
It was
also totally cool.
Therefore I grinned huge and cried, “That’s totally cool!”
He took in my grin, his face blank, and shook his head.
“No, Hanna, not the badge carrying, having arrest warrants, extension of law enforcement kind of bounty hunting. Cash under the table, getting a fuckuva lot more money kind of bounty hunting.”
I didn’t know what to do with that since I had no idea what he was talking about.
“I don’t get it,” I told him.
“I hunt fugitives and they definitely act outside the law,” he explained. “But, when I find them, I don’t deliver them to the police so they can do jacked shit, get caught, get bonded out, do more jacked shit, go on the run, get caught, then some bondsmen bonds them out again so they can do more jacked shit. I deliver them to people who are willing to pay a lot of money to have them delivered.”
This didn’t sound good, but I still didn’t get it.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I said softly. “I’m still not following.”
He didn’t move and his eyes never left my face as he kept talking.
“Then I’ll explain. Right now, I got several jobs goin’, the primary one bein’ Knight’s. He’s a buddy of mine. He’s got an enemy who keeps gettin’ bested but won’t let his grudge go. Knight had some shit happen to his business because of this guy and he asked me to do him a favor. A favor he’s payin’ me to do. And that favor is find the man who infiltrated his business, injecting dope into it. This guy is doin’ a favor for the other guy who’s tryin’ to fuck with Knight. But when I find him, I won’t turn him and any evidence I have as pertains to his criminal activities into the police. I’ll deliver him to Knight and walk away. When I do that, what Knight does with this guy and the shit I give him is not my business. I just walk away. I always walk away.”
This didn’t sound good, either. In fact, it sounded worse, and the stuff before it already sounded bad.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know and was leaning towards not wanting to know, but still, I asked, “So this Knight person asks you to find someone. You find him and give him to Knight, he pays you in cash then your part is done?”
“Yep,” he answered.
“And you don’t just do this for Knight. It’s your job and you do it for other people?”
“Yep.”
“Is that legal?” I queried.
His body moved minutely. I almost didn’t catch it, but I did and then he sat there looking at me like he had been. No change, except I felt it.
He was tense.
“Strictly speaking,” he began, paused, then finished, “no.”
Oh God.
“I… you… is it…?” I stammered, pulled myself together and went on, “Are you telling me you’re engaged in criminal activities?”
The tension started pouring off him in waves, making me tense. Big time tense.
In fact, wired.
“Strictly speaking,” he began, paused, then finished, “yes.”
Oh God!
I’d put my plate on the coffee table, which was fortunate. It freed me to lift my feet to the seat of the couch and curve my arms protectively around my shins, hugging my legs to my chest.
Raiden’s eyes dropped to my posture. He closed them slowly, then opened them and looked at me.
“Told you yesterday, years ago, I tracked down my Dad. To this day, I don’t know how it came to me how to do it. We hadn’t heard from him in two years. He lived two hours away. I had no resources, no experience, no money, not that first fuckin’ thing to go on, and I was a minor. But it took me a week to find him. It just came natural, askin’ questions to the right people, bein’ smart about it, turnin’ over rocks. Same went for when I drove my ass up there and found his house empty. Didn’t know that town, didn’t know his MO. Still tracked his ass down at his bitches’ houses. Same went for me breakin’ in. Bought a lock at the hardware store, examined it, fucked with it for hours until I figured out how to pick it. All this came natural. Some people are good with numbers. Others good with their hands. I’m good with this shit.”
None of this made me feel any better.
Raiden wasn’t done sharing.
“I went into the Marines and I did it as a career choice. What I mean by that is I never intended to get out. Had no Dad who could help guide the way, never had any dreams of wantin’ to be a cop or a fireman or an astronaut. But I examined my life to that point and knew where I was comfortable. I figured I needed discipline and someone to guide me, tell me what to do. I was good on a team, playin’ sports, gettin’ coached. I thought that was a natural progression. Once I got a directive, if I was trained how to do it, I went all out. And I was right. At first, the Corps worked for me.”
His face changed, went hard and his eyes started burning.
“Then it didn’t,” he stated.
I understood why and understanding it killed me, but I stayed silent.
Raiden continued talking.
“I got out and remembered trackin’ Dad. Figured I’d be good at bounty hunting, better at it after what I learned in the Corps. So I looked into that. Didn’t like the way it played out. It was part of a system that was totally fucked. Lots of rules. Lots of paperwork. But absolutely no reason to any of it. It was a dysfunctional cycle. To be successful, I had to write bonds, put my own fuckin’ money on the line and live a life filled with lying scum, most of them intent on fuckin’ me over. A buddy from the Corps came to town. We went out for beer, I shared this shit with him, he told me about a man he knew named Deacon.”
When he stopped and didn’t carry on, I asked, “Deacon?”
“Bounty hunter, like I am now. But a cold motherfucker. A six foot two, two hundred twenty pound wall of sheer ice. He got into it like I got into it. His wife went missin’, the cops couldn’t find her, so he descended into a world that was not his to find her. What he found was that he fit in that world. It was on the periphery, but he had talents in it, he had a place, so he stayed.”
“Did he find his wife?”
His gaze, already locked on mine, bonded with it.
“Yeah.”
Whatever this Deacon person found was not good and I didn’t want to know.
Luckily, Raiden didn’t tell me.
Unluckily, he continued to tell me other things.
“My buddy hooked me up with Deacon. He’s a loner, but he’s also the best in the business. Lots of work, not enough of him to go around. The thing was he didn’t have anyone he respected enough to punt business to. He must have liked the feel of me ‘cause he took me on a couple jobs before he let me loose and started referring work to me. I did the jobs, established a reputation, got more work. So much I had to recruit and train a crew. I did. All the men left from my unit in the Corps who got out like me and found, also like me, they didn’t fit back into the world they left when they entered the Corps. But they fit into this other world.”
Suddenly, it came clear to me.
And it broke my heart.
“Raiden, this sounds like—”
“Save it,” he bit off, interrupting me. “They don’t know all this I’m tellin’ you, but they know me and I figure they can guess. Not the specifics, but enough to tweak them, so I got that shit from Mom. Got it from Rache. Didn’t listen to it from them either. I live it, Hanna. I get it and I know my place, where I’m comfortable, where I fit and this is it.”
“I’m not sure you’re right,” I told him carefully.
“You watch a friend you thought would be a friend for life—who’d stand up at your wedding, who you’d name your kid after, who you’d watch go gray while listenin’ to him bitch for the next forty years about his wife spending too much money—get blown to fuckin’ bits by a landmine, babe, you’ll be in a place to say. Since that shit will thankfully never happen to you, you aren’t.”
My heart broke more, but after that I stayed silent.
“You know all that, I’ll give you the rest,” he declared. “All of t
his is sorted. Knight’s a buddy because Knight’s connected to Deacon, Deacon connected me with Knight and Knight did me a favor. I get paid cash. None of that is on any books, but Knight’s got a business and he cleans my money. I use a bogus partnership with him, which means I use his accounts to pay myself, my boys, make investments and pay taxes. It’s all above board and legal as far as the government knows. We do legitimate jobs that have no results in a way no one will ever cotton on that the jobs we do are not legitimate. IRS takes their cut, turns the other way. I got an address. I vote. I got a license. Plates on my car. An honorable discharge from the Corps. As far as anyone’s concerned I’m a respectable citizen, a veteran and a small business owner and the shit me and my crew do is buried so deep under that respectability, it’ll never be dug out.”
“Paul Moyer said you were off the grid,” I blurted, and his eyes got scary sharp before he appeared to relax.
“Paul Moyer talks smack because he wants to sound cool. For all intents and purposes, I operate off the grid, but I’m not off the grid. You meet Deacon, you’ll understand off the grid. That is not me. I come home for a few days at Christmas, but don’t reestablish life in Willow after gettin’ out, he knows what went down with my unit, Moyer thinks he knows his shit and runs his mouth. He doesn’t know his shit. He doesn’t know anything.”
“You said this was unsafe,” I reminded him.
“Men who want men hunted and are willin’ to pay tens of thousands of dollars to have them delivered, and the men who are runnin’ from them tend not to be people you wanna ask to dinner,” Raiden remarked.
This was very, very true.
God.
“This scares me,” I admitted.
“Yeah, but you’ll get used to it.”
He seemed very sure.
I was not.
“I don’t think I like this,” I told him, my voice small. “Any of it.”
Raiden didn’t move.
But he did speak.
“Then you need to understand why I do it.”
This meant there was more, and I really did not want more.
He gave it to me.
“Everything, every living thing on this earth, from plants to animals to humans, has a natural order. It’s absolutely crucial to keep that order, Hanna. I’ve been in the thick of chaos and it is not a fun place to be.”