Chapter One
Nae eased around the trunk of the
tree. In the distance, the gleam of the dying sun’s rays reflected
off the handle bars of various motorcycles parked in front of a
bar. ‘Trots’ was painted white across the plate glass window with
everything else blacked out. Nothing could be seen through the dark
barrier. She pressed her back against the old oak. Hair from her
ponytail caught in the rough bark, and the muzzle of her gun
pushing against the small of her back reassured her she could take
down the felon she’d been sent to capture. She’d tracked the bail
jumper across eight states and ended up in the middle of bum-fuck
Oregon. The idiot had stolen a bike from some buy-here-pay-here lot
in Utah. Nae dug papers from her pocket. The worn sheets curled at
the edges as she opened up the folded pieces and compared the
pictures. One photo was from her boss, Amos, at A-One Bail Bonds,
while the other was from the surveillance camera at the car
lot.
Until this assignment, she’d only
hunted small time crooks with no creativity. And, she usually
caught them within hours of their missed court appointment. But
this guy, Eldridge, strolled into a local jeweler’s store, bagged
millions of dollars’ worth of gems before sauntering out to where
he parked his car a block away. Then he called the police to turn
himself in citing a change of heart. The man could have gotten
away. Police were crawling all over the place like chickens with
their heads cut off, as if they were unsure where to start. The
case was one large cluster fuck and she had no clue why Amos even
bothered to bond the thief for bail.
There was also the question of why he
would give her the jacket on the jumper. As her newly chosen
profession she’d only been at the job for a little over six months.
Not that she would look a gift horse in the mouth. The bounty on
the guy was sweet at twenty-five thousand. It would give her a hand
up in getting the office and equipment she needed. But, she
couldn’t help but wonder why her boss had chosen her when he had
other, seasoned, bounty hunters at his disposal.
Her hunt started in Reno, Nevada, and
for a minute she’d thought she’d lost his trail, until she came
across the local news in Salt Lake City. While sitting in a shitty
motel room which cost more than it was worth, she watched the local
news. They were showing a clip of the asshole on the tiny
television screen, busting the lock on a gate to a small car
dealership. It was the lead she needed. With a description of the
bike he stolen, she had her cousin, who was her partner and
personal computer specialist, track the cycle through sightings on
highways and closed circuit cameras mounted at the toll road
stops.
She glanced at the name on the report.
Eldridge Khune. Funny, he didn’t use an alias, almost like he
wasn’t trying to hide. She sighed. This was too easy. The sun
dipped below the tree tops, and inky darkness replaced the fading
rays. An owl hooted somewhere in the woods behind her. She’d
watched the one room shack for hours; no one went in, but no one
came out in all that time either. Hell, she’d read horror stories
with similar beginnings. Nae blew out a breath and bent at the
waist to pull her baton from under her jeans leg. Making sure it
was secure in her boot, she pushed off the tree trunk, rolled her
shoulders, and hiked toward the structure. She ignored the niggling
feeling that slithered down her spine; something wasn’t right. She
crumpled the papers in her fist and continued to approach the
building.
She stopped at the bike on
the farthest end of the long line and rubbed the two reports across the seat
to straighten them out. Then, she angled the second page under a flood light
attached to the corner of the building. A quick read of the cycle’s
description had her circling the bike to confirm it was her
target’s machine.
Secure in the knowledge
that the vehicle matched the description, but she still needed
visual
Nae eased around the trunk of the
tree. In the distance, the gleam of the dying sun’s rays reflected
off the handle bars of various motorcycles parked in front of a
bar. ‘Trots’ was painted white across the plate glass window with
everything else blacked out. Nothing could be seen through the dark
barrier. She pressed her back against the old oak. Hair from her
ponytail caught in the rough bark, and the muzzle of her gun
pushing against the small of her back reassured her she could take
down the felon she’d been sent to capture. She’d tracked the bail
jumper across eight states and ended up in the middle of bum-fuck
Oregon. The idiot had stolen a bike from some buy-here-pay-here lot
in Utah. Nae dug papers from her pocket. The worn sheets curled at
the edges as she opened up the folded pieces and compared the
pictures. One photo was from her boss, Amos, at A-One Bail Bonds,
while the other was from the surveillance camera at the car
lot.
Until this assignment, she’d only
hunted small time crooks with no creativity. And, she usually
caught them within hours of their missed court appointment. But
this guy, Eldridge, strolled into a local jeweler’s store, bagged
millions of dollars’ worth of gems before sauntering out to where
he parked his car a block away. Then he called the police to turn
himself in citing a change of heart. The man could have gotten
away. Police were crawling all over the place like chickens with
their heads cut off, as if they were unsure where to start. The
case was one large cluster fuck and she had no clue why Amos even
bothered to bond the thief for bail.
There was also the question of why he
would give her the jacket on the jumper. As her newly chosen
profession she’d only been at the job for a little over six months.
Not that she would look a gift horse in the mouth. The bounty on
the guy was sweet at twenty-five thousand. It would give her a hand
up in getting the office and equipment she needed. But, she
couldn’t help but wonder why her boss had chosen her when he had
other, seasoned, bounty hunters at his disposal.
Her hunt started in Reno, Nevada, and
for a minute she’d thought she’d lost his trail, until she came
across the local news in Salt Lake City. While sitting in a shitty
motel room which cost more than it was worth, she watched the local
news. They were showing a clip of the asshole on the tiny
television screen, busting the lock on a gate to a small car
dealership. It was the lead she needed. With a description of the
bike he stolen, she had her cousin, who was her partner and
personal computer specialist, track the cycle through sightings on
highways and closed circuit cameras mounted at the toll road
stops.
She glanced at the name on the report.
Eldridge Khune. Funny, he didn’t use an alias, almost like he
wasn’t trying to hide. She sighed. This was too easy. The sun
dipped below the tree tops, and inky darkness replaced the fading
rays. An owl hooted somewhere in the woods behind her. She’d
watched the one room shack for hours; no one went in, but no one
came out in all that time either. Hell, she’d read horror stories
with similar beginnings. Nae blew out a breath and bent at the
waist to pull her baton from under her jeans leg. Making sure it
was secure in her boot, she pushed off the tree trunk, rolled her
shoulders, and hiked toward the structure. She ignored the niggling
feeling that slithered down her spine; something wasn’t right. She
crumpled the papers in her fist and continued to approach the
building.
She stopped at the bike on
the farthest end of the long line and rubbed the two reports across the seat
to straighten them out. Then, she angled the second page under a flood light
attached to the corner of the building. A quick read of the cycle’s
description had her circling the bike to confirm it was her
target’s machine.
Secure in the knowledge
that the vehicle matched the description, but she still needed
visual
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