“Good thing I love all things pink,” he said, and kissed her again. Yeah, if anyone ever asked, pink was his favorite color.
Reaper
A Montana Bounty Hunters Story
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author
Delilah Devlin
Chapter 1
As a general rule, Reaper Stenberg didn’t like working with a partner, especially female partners. When chasing a target, he preferred to keep his head down and follow the leads. He didn’t like the “chatter” that usually accompanied being paired with a woman.
However, partnering with Jamie Burke had taught him a few things. Women existed who could focus on the job at hand without letting silly distractions get in the way of his concentration. Jamie was one of those rare creatures who didn’t gossip, didn’t mess in his business, and could actually be useful when shit went sideways and they had to get physical. Her methods for subduing a target weren’t ones he’d ever employ, but she knew how to compensate for her smaller frame and lesser strength. Over the months since their boss, Fetch Winter, had put them together, Reaper came to admire the woman’s grit and ingenuity.
Case in point was their present predicament.
No, this time she hadn’t tripped bail jumper, Mark Rebos, with a Jackie Chan move, and no, she hadn’t gripped his balls and twisted so hard he begged for mercy. This time—while she’d run all out—she locked a cuff on her right wrist, jumped onto his back, and snagged his right with the other cuff. Now, they faced each other, squinting in the rain and ankle-deep in mud, and Rebos couldn’t swing without dragging her closer.
The big man looked ready to explode. His pockmarked face was red, and his eyes bugged. Although Rebos was six inches taller than Jamie, and outweighed her by about eighty pounds, Reaper’s money was in Jamie.
Rebos tried to draw back his arm, but Jamie flopped like a ragdoll, making him pull her weight around. He was tiring. “What the hell did you do that for?” he asked, his voice thick with frustration.
Still breathing hard, Jamie shrugged. “Your wrist was the only thing I could reach. And you’re fast. I had to jump on your back before you pulled too far ahead. I was not running the length of Main Street again.”
They were both drenched. Rain fell in sheets around them. When Reaper and Jamie had spotted Rebos leaving the tobacco store at the other end of Main, Reaper had no other option than to halt in the middle of the street while Jamie leapt out the passenger door. Thursday night in Bear Lodge, Montana was Bingo night, and the old folks had filled every parking spot along the street. He’d driven around the corner to park before following Jamie, who chased Rebos and yelled at the top of her lungs, “Fugitive Recovery Agent, dipshit!” Luckily, Reaper had time to draw a rain poncho over his head before speeding after them.
When she’d leapt onto Rebos’s back, she’d taken him to the ground in the middle of a deep, muddy pit dug out by the torrent of water falling from the culvert above.
“You need any help, partner?” Reaper drawled, standing under an awning on the sidewalk above them.
Jamie bent and placed her hands on her knees, which forced Mark to double over. Their heads bumped.
She angled hers to frown at Rebos. “You gonna give me any more trouble?”
Rebos shook his head. “Just unlock these,” he said, lifting their hands. He squinted at her in the deluge. “Hey, you’re that female bounty hunter, ain’t you?” he said, a slow grin stretching his mouth.
“I’m a fugitive recovery agent,” she said, and then she strained to reach her left hand across her body to root inside her right front pocket.
When her shoulders dipped, Reaper grinned. “Lose your key?”
“I think they’re in yesterday’s pants,” she said, her voice rough with disgust.
Reaper couldn’t help chuckling, which earned him a mean scowl from Jamie. He held up his hands. “All right. I have a key.” He reached into his left pocket, dug around, and then frowned. “Wrong pocket.”
“Reaper…” she said, her lips tightening.
Yeah, he was just kidding. He reached into his right and pulled out a key. “Children, hold up your hands.”
Rebos snorted.
Jamie gave him the evil eye.
Reaper was feeling pretty good about this capture. He hadn’t had to bust a nut. And Jamie had provided him with a nice tale to share around the office. He unlocked the cuffs then pulled Rebos onto the sidewalk.
Jamie waved away his hand and climbed up on her hands and knees, before straightening her backbone and marching away.
Reaper wrapped his arm around Rebos’s shoulder and gave him a little shove forward. They had a ways to walk. “So, buddy, did I read your arrest warrant right—you stole the sheriff’s car?”
The big man shook his head. “How was I supposed to know that piece of shit Hyundai was his?”
Reaper patted his shoulder again. “Bad break, man. Hey, I’m gonna have to cuff you before I put you in the car.”
“Yeah, I figured.” He held still while Reaper moved behind him and snapped the cuffs around his wrists. “So, tell me. The chick, your partner…she single?”
Reaper was beginning to feel like it was Christmas. “She is.” Not a lie. Jamie’s wedding was in two months.
Rebos straightened his shoulders and thrust out his chest. “Think she’d wait for me?”
Although he wanted to, Reaper didn’t dare laugh.
* * *
Back at the office, they dropped their copy of the jail’s paperwork on Brian’s desk.
Brian was still bent over in his wheelchair laughing, his brown eyes tearing. Every time he glanced up at Jamie, he burst out laughing again—and he still hadn’t heard about lovesick Rebos.
As he stared at the muddy mess she’d made of the floor, Reaper shook his head. From the top of her blonde head to the heels of her cowboy boots, his partner was coated in sludgy muck. “Think your boyfriend Sky’s gonna let you in the house, looking like that?”
Her lips curved. “I imagine he’ll make me strip on the front porch.”
Reaper glared. Damn, sex on the porch sounded nasty. And fun. He didn’t need a reminder of the fact his latest place to crash had reclaimed her spare key. Something he’d mentioned to Jamie that morning in the spirit of “sharing.” Women seemed to like that shit, but Jamie hadn’t commiserated. No, she’d raised her fist to Girl Power and told him he needed to find himself a real girlfriend. One he’d actually have to talk to. Reaper had shuddered at the thought.
He patted his pocket for keys, then began to turn, ready to head to the door. He had places to go—well, the nearest bar. Maybe there he’d find his next bed to crash in.
“Not so quick,” Brian called out.
Reaper pivoted back and raised an eyebrow.
“Fetch has something special planned for you.”
Reaper glanced at Jamie who was busy wiping mud off the side of her neck with a tissue.
“Not her. She’s off for the next few days. Wedding stuff. You,” Brian said, and then smiled.