~ Seriphina Joseph ~
THE PUDDLES LEFT BYthe torrential downpour splash cold water on my feet and ankles after being trapped on my way back from the bakery. It’s only a drizzle now and I am thanking every god out there that it subsided long enough for me to make my way down the block.
Moonglow, my new age crystal shop, sits in the middle of a busy street between an art gallery and a music store. I sell herbal teas, books, boho-style clothing, and altar items. There’s a counter in the front where the register sits and behind that is a stool and multiple electric kettles. A large section makes up the other side of the store where you can sit on oversized fluffy couches and chairs with multicolored decorative throw pillows and a few tables. I like it this way. I want people to feel welcome and comfortable, like a stress-free oasis in the middle of a busy world.
The moment the door shuts behind me, I lean my back onto it. Stepping into that bookstore seemed like a good idea. But when I think about those cool gray eyes and the warm feel of his calloused hand—I shake my head. Nope, Seriph, we are not going there. That man is a walking billboard of everything I cannever let myself have. Tall, had to be over six feet, with a square jaw covered in a five o’clock shadow, and thick brown hair that looked soft enough to run your fingers through. I could see the beginnings of tattoos on his forearms. I was dying to see how far they went under that almost too tight henley he was wearing.
Stop it, Seriph. He’s not for you. He will never be for you. Men like that don’t want women like you. So what if he struck up a casual conversation? You definitely didn’t see him checking out your boobs. Spinster life, remember? If no one gets close, you don’t get hurt. At least that's what I’ve been telling myself for the last seven years. The second I heard his deep gravelly voice from the shadows, my touch-starved body had responded. He was walking sin and he would never be mine, even if pigs flew and he was somehow interested in me.
I take a deep breath and walk around the counter. Tossing my broken umbrella in the trash, I prepare to open for the second part of the day.
I head upstairs to the loft. Opening the door at the top of the landing, I make my way across the open concept living room and kitchen to my bedroom. Large bay windows with bench seats line the living room, looking out over the street below. The kitchen is on the far side lined with counters and cabinets, and equipped with a large center island with stools that I opted to use over buying a table.
My room is cozy with bohemian style fixtures and blankets. Faux ivy hangs over the walls and there are mushroom shaped trinkets adorning shelves and tables. The bed is king-sized, plush, and four-postered. A large clawfoot tub and a walk-in shower take up most of the space in my ensuite bathroom. The vanity mirror stretches the full length of the counter, which is big enough to sit on.
Entering my large walk-in closet, I pull a change of clothes off the hanger before tossing my wet ones into the washer. One ofthe benefits of working below your home is easy access to your belongings when disaster strikes, like pouring rain or spilled teacups. When I bought this place, the upper level was barren. Over time, I was able to use what little money I did make, to renovate it into my dream home. I work hard to keep what I have, although I sometimes struggle. Given the chance, I’d do it all over again.
After I’m dry and warm, I head back downstairs. Flipping the sign to ‘Open,’ I wander around the store and check inventory. And I do everything I can to forget about stormy gray eyes and tan skin.
~ Griffin Colson ~
I HESITATE. FOR THEbriefest moment, I almost walk the other direction. But instead, I fall quietly into step behind him, keeping a discreet distance. Chris Hanes is a weaselly piece of shit with light brown hair and a dull complexion. He’s on the run for murdering his girlfriend because she came home late. If I didn’t have a contract to bring him in alive, I would think of some creative ways to make him regret it. He’s one of my ‘by the book’ jobs, which means I can’t maim him before I deliver him, unfortunately.
The world around me narrows into a single pursuit, everything else fading into static. The only thing breaking through my concentration is a nagging feeling of ‘what if?’ There’s an echo of laughter and a flash of ocean-colored eyes. Should I have walked the other way? Should I have followed her? I shake away the thoughts, trying to clear my mind. Concentrate, Griffin. You’re pursuing a cold-blooded killer right now. Any deviation will cost you and you won’t have the option to see her again.
We end up at a warehouse by the river. It’s old and dark. The windows are boarded up. There are discarded crates and brokenjunk everywhere. The perfect location for nefarious deals and illegal activities. The crunch of tires over gravel draws my focus and prevents me from moving closer. A number of cars pull up and park around the building. Chris and his associates disappear inside.
Once I’m convinced they aren’t coming out any time soon, I jog a few blocks over where I parked my jeep. Luckily, he hadn’t gone too far from where I stashed it. It's black, heavily modified, and looks like it could survive an apocalypse. I pull up close enough to stake the place out but not enough to be noticeable. This is my least favorite part of the hunt. The steady drag of time spent doing nothing but watching and waiting.
Instead of formulating a plan on extracting Chris without getting anyone else involved, I wonder what she could be doing right now. I envision her curled up on a couch, reading a book, and sipping something hot. She’s probably wrapped in a blanket. Peaceful. Quiet. Safe. Nothing like my life and how I choose to live it, following bounties through the dregs of society. I’m one of the best and with that it takes me all over the country, oftentimes out of it. But it also comes with a shit ton of danger. I’ve been shot at more times than I can count and I have the scars to prove it.
I have no business thinking about a life where I can come home to her. Getting in after a hard day, I’d sit down next to her and haul her into my lap. Where the fuck did that thought come from? Settling down? Get it together, Griffin. You know that’s not in your cards. I scowl at myself and get back to tracking. I can't afford those kinds of entanglements. And she can’t handle the type of life I bring to the table.
Hours pass and they are still inside doing whatever illegal shit they do. It’s not my business to worry about what laws they break. It’s my job to nab the guy and bring him in. The river laps at the shore in the distance and a streetlight buzzes overhead.Shadows move around through the office glass window on the second floor. The men inside are oblivious to the hunter lurking in wait.
After what seems like forever the cars leave one by one. I stretch and climb out. The jeep door barely makes a sound when I shut it carefully behind me. Keeping to the shadows, grass crunches under my feet as I approach the rear of the building. I slide along the wall to the side entrance. The striations in the brick snag the back of my shirt. The door opens with a hiss of steel hinges. There’s a creak on the steps leading up to the office and I dive into the alcove behind the staircase and wait for them to pass. I lean out to make sure it’s not Chris. The last of his friends leave and I take that as my cue to climb the crate by the balcony overlooking the main area. Dropping to the grated floor, I adjust my position so I have a clear line of sight on the room.
Chris is alone, counting his cut. It seems like the deal went off without a hitch. He’s humming to himself and nodding like he doesn’t have a care in the world. This is probably a great night for him. Little does he know, I’m about to ruin it. Air fills my lungs as I steady myself before the take down. This is what I’m good at. This is what I do. Not idle chats in bookstores. Not wondering ‘what if?’ The paper bills ruffle against leather when he shoves them into his suitcase. His shoes scrape on the floor as he begins to turn around. You should never stand with your back to the door. In an instant, I’m on him.
“What the—” He lets out a yelp.
I ram him into the wall, my hand wraps around his throat. He drops the briefcase, money scatters across the floor.
“Easy way or the hard way,” I growl. “Up to you, Chris.”
His face turns purple, fingers digging into my forearm as he tries frantically to free himself. But I’m stronger and immovable. He looks around the room, searching for a way out. When hedoesn’t find one he goes still. Opening his mouth, he tries to plead or argue but all that comes out is a strangled gasp.
“Don’t even think about callin’ for help. Understand?” I lean forward, daring him to try me.
He nods fervently, his Adam’s apple bobbing under my palm. I reach around behind him and pull his gun out of his waistband, shoving it in the back of mine instead. I relax my hold to let him speak.
“Please,” he wheezes, desperation making his voice tremble. “I-I can pay you.” His eyes dart to the cash spread out across the floor. “Take it. All of it. Just let me go.”
I make more than enough chasing down parasites like him and taking out worse. I don’t need his bribe. His nostrils flare and his pulse races faster when he figures out I’m not interested in his offer. For a second, I think he’s about to piss himself. Normally I’m amused when these dickholes break but all I can think about is getting this over with.
“Nice try,” I say, smiling cruelly. “But I’m not here for that.”
Eyebrows hit his hairline and his mouth gapes like a fish out of water. He doesn’t know who I am, doesn’t know he’s just another shitbag bounty to me. I savor his anguish for a minute, letting the satisfaction of it drown out thoughts of rain-dripped bookstores and delicate laughter.
