The Bounty Hunter's Forbidden Desire
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Jean Thomas
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Chapter 1
Chase McKinley sat behind the wheel of his black SUV, watching the couple in the gray Chevy. The sedan was parked diagonally across the street from him, its position allowing him to observe the occupants without giving them a reason to be suspicious of his presence. In any case, they were too engrossed in what appeared to be an intense dialogue to be aware of him.
There was no way for Chase to hear what they were saying. Nor did he worry about that. What the woman looked like was his only real concern at the moment. At this angle, and with the width of the street between them, that was hard to tell.
The PI whom Chase regularly used had emailed a photo of the brunette, but it had been a blurry, disappointing result. Far more interesting was the investigator’s description in his report. He’d referred to her simply as “a hot number.” An exaggeration? Maybe. Chase looked forward to finding out.
The Chevy’s front passenger door opened. A pair of long, shapely legs swung into view. They were followed by the rest of the woman who owned them. Chase sucked in a lungful of air. Holy crap! The PI had been right on target. Haley Adams was one dark-haired, gorgeous filly.
She was joined by the guy behind the wheel of the Chevy, who had rounded the rear of the car to meet her. Chase couldn’t say much for her taste in men. Not bad looking, he supposed, but too ordinary to make any impression. And with an extraordinary-looking woman like her, he would have expected something more.
Whoever he was, he had his hand on her arm, prepared to escort her across the street to her door. The place was one of those row house affairs, nothing to distinguish it from its adjoining neighbors. Like the homes above it on the ridge, it looked down on the valley where Portland’s downtown high-rises were packed along the Willamette River rimmed with cargo ships at anchor.
Chase cared about neither the boats nor the office towers. His only focus was Haley Adams and the guy close at her side, who, now that he had a better view of him, wore an unhappy expression on his narrow face. Chase got a look at their parting at her front door. Enough of it, anyway, to tell it involved an embrace. A spiky evergreen blocked the rest of it. Damn shrubs grew like weeds here in the Pacific Northwest.
Chase was willing to bet, though, the embrace ended in a kiss of the passionate variety. Who’d part from a woman like her without one? After his farewell, the guy retreated to his sedan and drove off down the street.
Chase didn’t wait until he was out of sight to emerge from his SUV, race to Haley Adams’ door and ring her bell. He was counting on her thinking her anxious boyfriend had returned. He’d used this kind of tactic before with success, and it didn’t fail him this time.
Her wide blue eyes registered a concerned surprise when she opened the door to find a strange man on her doorstep. Chase had his foot in the opening before she could close the door on him.
* * *
Haley realized at once that she’d made two careless mistakes. She had failed to secure the chain on the door behind Bill Farley’s departure, and she neglected to check the peephole before opening the door. Not that the neighborhood—or Portland in general—had a reputation for crime. But still...
Make that three mistakes. Bill had left in such a state that she’d assumed he was back for a last session of pleading. Wrong.
“If you’re selling,” she brusquely informed the rangy figure, “I’m not interested. And if you’re collecting for a charity, I prefer to do that by mail. Now if you’ll take your foot out of my door...”
“I’m not selling or collecting.”
No, she decided, he didn’t look the type. Too tough for anything like that. More like a longshoreman. He still hadn’t removed his foot. He was making her uneasy. Did she have something to worry about here?
“Look, whoever and whatever you are, you have no right to push in here like this. I’m going to ask you again to take your foot out of my door so I can close it after you. Because if you don’t go away, I’m going to call the police.”
“You do that. I may need them here to conduct my business with you.”
“I think you’ve made some kind of mistake.”
“They all say that. You are Haley Adams, aren’t you?”
She was surprised he knew her name. “Yes, but I may very well not be the only one in a city this size.”
“Any other Haley Adams living at this address?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you’re the Haley Adams I want.”
“How do you know me and my name? And just what is this so-called business you’re supposed to have with me?”
“About time we got around to that.”
He moved the rest of the way into her foyer. Before she could tell him to leave the door open behind him, he’d nudged it shut with his elbow and was opening a folder tucked under his arm.
She didn’t like this. Didn’t like it at all. It wasn’t anything he might have in that folder that had her nervous. It was the presence of the man himself inside her house—when she hadn’t let him in. Why hadn’t she called the cops immediately? That tall, solid figure could be anything, anybody. Bad things happened to women in situations like this.
He must have understood she was concerned. “Relax,” he said, the timbre of his voice deep and husky, not at all conducive to relaxing. “If you don’t give me any trouble—and believe me, plenty of them try it—then you have nothing to worry about.”
Nothing to worry about? Give him any trouble? Who was he? What was this all about?
“Come on, Haley,” he said, “you shouldn’t need any explanations. You know what this is all about.” Did this guy read minds? “No? You want to play hardball, do you? Well, we can do that.”
He had an official-looking document inside the folder. He held it out to her. “This is your copy. Mine stays inside the folder.”
She hesitantly took it from him, looked down at it in her hand and scanned it in disbelief. It was a legal order for the apprehension of Haley Adams, residing at this address, who had failed to appear in court on the scheduled date of her arraignment and was therefore in violation of her bail bond. She looked up at him in bewilderment. He nodded solemnly.
“I need to bring you in, Haley. Afraid that’s my job. Says so right here. See?”
He’d produced a wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, folded it back for her inspection and was now tapping at the identification it contained with his forefinger. “Chase McKinley,” he read, “licensed bond enforcer. That’s me.”
She looked at the ID, then at his square-jawed face. For a moment she had no reaction. Then she understood. “You’re a bounty hunter.”
“Well, that’s one term for it. There are others. Skip tracer. Fugitive apprehension agent. Take your pick.”
“You’re a bounty hunter,” she repeated, “and your name is Chase. I get it now. Chase, hunter.” She began to giggle. This was exactly the kind of prank her friend Kelly was forever 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.
