The Bounty Hunter's Forbidden Desire. Jean Pichon Thomas
pulling. Her giggle escalated into outright laughter.
She waited for him to grin, to snap a “gotcha” at her.
That didn’t happen. He wasn’t grinning. He was staring at her in mild astonishment. “I’ve got to hand it to you, lady,” he drawled. “I’ve seen all kinds of reactions when I show up, but you’re the first to try something like this. Have to warn you, though, it isn’t going to work. So why don’t you just stop stalling and come with me peacefully.”
He was serious. This was no joke. “There’s been some kind of mistake,” she insisted. “I haven’t committed any crime. And I certainly haven’t applied to any—any—”
“Bail bond agency,” he supplied for her.
“Yes, if that’s what it’s called to post bonds for people in order for them to keep out of jail while they wait to go to trial.”
“That’s what it’s called.”
“You have to believe me. This is all crazy.”
“No, Haley, I don’t have to believe anything you tell me. My only assignment is to bring you in. You got arguments, you save them for police headquarters.”
This man had no patience and no sympathy. If he’d ever had them, they had been drained out of him long ago. But there was someone who would listen to her, who would straighten out this whole absurd mess. She started to reach for her purse, but he anticipated her move. “Nuh-uh-uh,” he cautioned, snatching it away before she could claim it.
“But my cell phone is in there. I need to call my lawyer.”
“No phone calls until you’re booked down at the main station, and then you get to call your lawyer. That is, if you behave yourself. Meanwhile, I’ll take charge of your purse.”
What was going on?
* * *
Everyone knew Portland was famous as the City of Roses. But with all its bridges across the Willamette and Columbia Rivers, it could just as easily be the City of Bridges. Or, for that matter, Chase thought, the City of Fountains, since water attractions were everywhere in the parks and squares. It was a beautiful place.
Which should have been a reason for him not to be distracted by the woman beside him in the SUV. Trouble was, Haley Adams was a hell of a lot better looking than the gorgeous streets he was driving through. He couldn’t help casting glances in her direction, admiring that alluring body in the summer T-shirt and clinging jeans; the clear, ivory skin; and the deep blue eyes that, whenever they turned his way, unfortunately looked at him as though he were something that had slithered out of a hole.
Yeah, Chase could see why Josh had fallen so hard for this tempting package, but he wasn’t going to let himself be fooled by all the wrapping. She was plainly cheating on Josh in his absence with this other guy. That tight squeeze he’d witnessed at her door when they’d parted was evidence of that. His PI, too, had caught them in a couple of similar cozy sessions.
Bill Farley. That was the man’s name, and according to the investigator’s report, Farley was connected with some very questionable people. There was no proof Haley Adams was associated with the same crowd, but Chase wouldn’t be surprised to learn she was.
Josh will have my ass if he ever finds out I hired a PI to spy on his girlfriend, he thought. Tough, because right now she was his one and only link to Josh, and he wasn’t going to hesitate to use her.
Once the traffic thinned, sweet little Haley was bound to notice she wasn’t going where she thought she was. So far she hadn’t been particularly observant about their route. Too busy silently smoldering over her situation and the man who was responsible for it—him. But any minute now, her fuse was going to ignite.
A couple of blocks farther on, he sensed her sudden awareness. Here it comes, Chase thought, bracing for the blast.
“What are you doing! This isn’t the way to the main police station!”
“I know where I’m going,” he told her serenely.
“I’m telling you, this isn’t right! You’re going in the complete opposite direction!”
“Don’t think so.”
“But you’re wrong! Don’t you suppose I know my own city? Turn around,” she insisted, “and go back!”
Chase kept on driving.
“Why aren’t you listening to me? If you keep on going this way, we’ll be headed out of Portland!”
“That’s the general idea.”
Her gasp wasn’t a loud one, barely audible in fact, but it was sufficient enough to register her alarm. “Just where are you taking me?”
“Like I said, police headquarters.”
“That can’t be possible! You lied to me!”
“Oh, Haley, Haley, accusations like that hurt me. I wouldn’t lie to you. It’s not only possible, it’s true. If you’d taken the time to read the order for your apprehension carefully, you would have seen that is exactly where I’m taking you. Seattle Police Headquarters.”
“Seat— Are you out of your mind? Seattle is hours away!”
“Uh-huh. Well, there’s nothing unusual about that. You wouldn’t believe the considerable distances I’ve had to travel to haul FTAs back to the right places. Means ‘failed to appear,’ in case you’re wondering. Once I had to go all the way to Chicago. Man, was that guy a pain.”
“You still aren’t listening to me, are you? Why aren’t you listening? Why aren’t you understanding that if I didn’t break the law in Portland, I certainly didn’t break it in Seattle?”
“Take it easy, Haley. You go on like this and you’re apt to pop a blood vessel. And that couldn’t be good. How about some music? You want some music? Great way to relax.”
* * *
Useless, Haley finally decided. He wasn’t listening to her pleas and arguments. She was simply wearing herself out trying.
He was actually taking her to Seattle. Portland was already behind them. They were in Washington now, rolling north on Interstate 5. There were mountains and lush forests of hemlocks, firs and pines on either side of the highway. Far ahead, off to the right, it was possible to make out what was left of Mount Saint Helens after its famous volcanic explosion.
Magnificent, all of it. If you cared to gaze at it. Haley didn’t. She was too busy thinking what a nightmare she’d landed herself in when she had so innocently opened her front door to the man at her side. He was currently whistling under his breath to some old Frank Sinatra song on the radio. Casual as a barefoot boy headed down to the river to land himself a mess of fish.
Not a very sensible analogy, she told herself. Chase McKinley was a bounty hunter, wasn’t he? Something she only knew about from movies and television. What did that require? Probably all the qualities of a roughneck. Things like a well-built, long-limbed body, big hands made to deliver a punch, a deep, commanding voice. Yeah, he had all those and more. Rugged features, dark hair that could use both a trim and a comb. Even darker eyes that had the sexy—
Stop right there.
Whatever he was or wasn’t, she refused to permit herself to think of him in those terms.
But there was one thing...what? What was it that had been bothering her every time she glanced at him? A vague familiarity, wasn’t that it? Only that was nonsense. She couldn’t possibly have encountered him before. She would have remembered someone as distinctly different as he was.
None of this mattered, of course. Because familiar or otherwise, Haley had made up her mind. Whatever it took, she was getting away from Chase McKinley at the first opportunity.