Bounty, p.1
Bounty, page 1
part #3 of Wicked Missions Series
Bounty
When Hannah Bates helps foil a Dracorian attack on the planet Fraiqua, the Dracorians place a hefty price on her head. Captured by two bounty hunters, she faces death if delivered to her enemies. Can she convince her captors that revenge rather than justice awaits her if they claim their bounty? When she develops feelings for the two men, how will she persuade them it’s not an attempt to earn their sympathy?
Erik Leonards’s daughter is being held hostage by the Dracorians, used as leverage to force him to bring them Hannah Bates. Together with his partner, Wulf Stratton, Erik captures her, knowing Hannah's delivery to Dracoria is his daughter Leah’s only hope.
On the long trip, Wulf and Erik fight their attraction to the dynamic Hannah. When the time comes to turn her over to her enemy, the men face an impossible choice—save Leah or save Hannah?
Genre: Futuristic, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Science Fiction
Length: 29,596 words
BOUNTY
Wicked Missions 3
Elizabeth Raines
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
BOUNTY
Copyright © 2011 by Elizabeth Raines
E-book ISBN: 1-61034-514-2
First E-book Publication: May 2011
Cover design by Les Byerley
All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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DEDICATION
For Mellanie Szereto—the only writer I know who can keep up with me! Thanks for everything!
BOUNTY
Wicked Missions 3
ELIZABETH RAINES
Copyright © 2011
Chapter 1
Hannah Bates ducked behind a large clay pot filled with pungent herbs. The Bromond marketplace was crowded, giving her an advantage. Easier to blend in. Easier to move about. Easier to disappear.
She rearranged the lace veil over her face as she pressed herself between the urn and the wall, trying to conceal herself in the shadows. Although her heart beat a rough cadence, she tried to control her breathing and make herself as invisible as possible. The fear was there, hiding right below the surface. She brushed it aside, just as she always did whenever it reared its ugly head. There simply wasn’t time to be afraid, not if she wanted to stay alive.
A multitude of footsteps continually slapped against the packed clay of the street, and voices in many languages haggled over the price of everything from fruit to cloth to jewelry. Hannah almost sighed in relief until the distinct tread she’d quickly learned to recognize stopped right in front of the pot. She bit back a curse, chewing on her bottom lip when she wanted to scream in frustration. She’d never had this hard a time shaking a person who was foolish enough to think he could catch her. Heaven help her, maybe she was losing her touch.
A few more moments passed as the shadow of a pedestrian moved against the wall, but still the person didn’t move. Holding herself as still as possible, Hannah held her breath and prayed he would keep on moving. Sweat trickled down her back and between her breasts, and she wanted nothing more than to shed her heavy robe, snatch the veil from her face, and just…breathe.
Surely he couldn’t see her. For a moment she feared her pursuer had some sort of extra sense—a type of perception her own species didn’t possess. An empathic ability? Acute vision? An extraordinary sense of smell?
The Fates were smiling on her today—the footsteps began again, growing more and more distant until they faded into the blessed din. There was no time to rejoice in the little victories when she was the prey, not nearly as many as she’d celebrated when she’d been the hunter.
Easing out from behind the large urn, Hannah scanned the busy souk. She had two choices. Try to blend into the open marketplace or take to the roofs and keep an eye on the whole area. The latter was more appealing, giving her back some semblance of control. Although she wasn’t positive who was after her, she knew that she’d have a better chance of figuring out his identity if she had more time to use her strong powers of observation.
Being a bounty hunter had seasoned her, giving her an insight into all kinds of species. By watching the movement in the marketplace, she’d surely find the anomaly in the crowd.
As if it’ll be that easy…
Hannah had spent the whole time she’d been running trying to figure out who in the hell was pursing her so doggedly. Not that a bounty hunter didn’t make a lot of enemies, but most of the people she’d captured were locked up tight. Or dead. She had other theories, but since she was barely one step ahead of her adversary, she hadn’t had time to investigate who’d set this dog on her trail. She couldn’t reach out to her best friend, Betinsa Nungio—an agent for the Earth Bureau of Investigation. As soon as she got some breathing room, Hannah would be firing off a message to Betinsa asking for aid because she was sick and tired of being all alone in this.
Well, not totally alone. She had her adopted son, Lincoln—an Odiran she’d rescued as a small cub when she’d stopped poachers who’d murdered his parents from killing him as well. Since Odirans stood only a meter high, had thick honey-colored fur, and resembled Earth’s teddy bears, several species coveted their hides or enjoyed seeing them stuffed and mounted in their home. Fuckin’ barbarians. Linc had refused to leave her side that day and had ultimately become her bounty hunting partner.
But she wouldn’t put Linc in danger any longer. Whoever was coming after her meant business. She still had scars from the explosion on her ship, the Fearless, that had happened before whoever chased her had been set on her tail. Thank God, Linc had been in town that day. Now, she wouldn’t let Linc remain in the line of fire. If she ever lost him…
That thought sent a shudder ripping through her. Hannah finally had to order him to take the crippled Fearless back to Earth and wait until she dealt with her little…problem.
Stepping out of the shadows, she tried to move at the pace of the throng, getting closer to one of the pueblos that served as homes and businesses in this district of Bromond. The planet was mostly desert with little vegetation. The buildings were made of mud and wattle, reminding her of the ancient ruins near her hometown of Phoenix back on Earth.
Earth. Shit, it seemed like a million years since she’d been home. Perhaps when all this was over, she’d find Linc and take him on a nice vacation. Time basking in the sun by a pool of clear water, drinking a pitcher of mai tais. Heaven.
Watching for the first opportunity, Hannah caught movement of a door opening. Pressing against the closest wall, she waited as a Bromondi walked through, then she quickly slipped inside before the door closed.
Taking a steadying breath, she let the coolness of the interior help calm her. Moments passed and she finally relaxed when she knew she’d shaken her unwanted escort. She yanked the veil away from her face, letting it drop to her chest, grateful she no longer felt like she was being smothered. Why a woman would live on Bromond was beyond her. What woman in her right mind would want to spend all her time in public draped in robes and veils, leaving only her eyes visible? The males on the planet treated their women no better than property, and she knew she’d never survive that kind of archaic culture.
Hannah Bates belonged to no man.
Climbing the winding staircase, she hoped there was roof access. Because the buildings were so close together, she’d be able to jump from roof to roof and keep an eye on the crowd below. Since she’d left her hovercar on the edge of the marketplace, she could double back now and fetch it. Then she could speed away from here. Maybe she could camp out in the mountains for a while with the supplies in the hovercar. Things would be lean, but she’d lived with less. At least the mountains offered a relief from the sweltering heat and would have some vegetation she could use for food.
And then she could stop feeling like a hunted animal.
Easing open the door to the roof, she carefully stuck her head through, scanning the rooftop for any sign of life. Thankfully, it was empty. Damned hot, but vacant.
“Fuck it.” Hannah yanked the robe from her body and threw it on the tiles. It took most of her remaining self-control, something often in short supply even in good circumstances, not to stomp on the beige fabric like a toddler having a temper tantrum. Warm rays of sunshine hit her face and shoulders, and although the heat bordered on oppressive, she basked in her freedom.
Her drab, olive tank top was damp with her perspiration and had almost worked its way out of the waistband of her camouflage pants. She tucked it back in and absentmindedly brushed her fingers over the knife sheathed against her thigh and the pulse pistol holstered on her hip, thinking she’d rather stroll naked through the crowded marketplace than go anywhere unarmed. Yet unlike most bounty hunters, she refused to take a life unless her own depended on it. She’d only fired the pistol ten times in her whole career and killed only five men—and they’d given her no choice.
She whirled to the door slamming shut behind her, angry that she hadn’t remembered to close it until she saw the tall man leaning back against it, his arms folded over his muscular chest and an arrogant smile on his handsome face.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Had she not been so angry at herself, she would have made a run for it. Instead, she couldn’t help but admire the guy. It wasn’t too often someone caught Hannah unaware. Not only was he clever, much to her chagrin, he was also downright gorgeous. His long, blond hair was bound into a ponytail with a piece of leather. Piercing gray eyes followed her from a face bearing the stubble of a few days’ growth of beard on a strong chin and full cheeks. His “uniform” reflected hers—a tight, white tank top and khaki combat pants. There was no doubt in her mind who this man was. My pursuer.
And he’d actually caught her. “Son of a bitch.”
His cocky smile actually grew. “My mother wouldn’t like you calling her a bitch.”
For some stupid-ass reason, she liked the deep baritone of his voice. Perhaps a knee in the balls would change that… “Would bastard suit you better?”
He shook his head. “Still an insult to her, not me.”
Why she wanted to smile back at his cheekiness was a mystery. “How about fuckin’ asshole?”
The dimple creasing his left cheek could drive her to distraction. “Bingo,” he said, pointing his finger at her like an imaginary gun and pulling the trigger.
Taking advantage of his relaxed stance, she made her move, running for the edge and springing across the gap in the roofs to reach the next house. His footsteps echoed behind her, giving her another surge of adrenaline. She dodged a couple of communication dishes, some laundry drying on a clothesline, and a child’s toy hovercar before leaping across to the next roof.
All Hannah could think about was getting away because the footsteps seemed to be drawing closer. No one outran her. No one! She couldn’t even take the precious moment to see where she was or whether she’d be better off taking back to the ground. Hell, if she did that, she’d probably be arrested by the local yokels for violating their ridiculous decency laws. How dare I show my face in public!
Just as she reached the ledge of the fourth building, an arm wrapped around her waist. Hannah stumbled, teetering on the edge and knowing she was going to fall. Her arms waved like windmills as she tried to keep from taking the plunge, but to no avail. Worse, as she dropped over the side, her stalker went right with her. A man that size landing on top of her?
I’m gonna die…
Surprisingly, the man rolled, taking her with him and absorbing the majority of the impact with his shoulder and back as she landed on him with a loud thud. Pain shot through her knee where it slammed into the ground between his thighs. She wished for a moment she could have caught his groin instead. Then she’d be able to get away, despite the fact she feared she was crippled now. His loud oof told her that he’d knocked the wind out of himself, which would have helped her escape if her knee still worked.
Oh, hell. She had to at least try—her pride demanded it. Struggling, she tried to roll off him, but his arms were like bands of steel around her waist. When she attempted to bring her injured knee up to slam into his testicles, she cried out from the pain the movement caused.
She wasn’t going anywhere, so she gave up struggling, closed her eyes, and tried to get a grip on the sting shooting through her leg and her ego.
For the first time in her life, the elusive Hannah Bates had gotten caught.
“You…okay?” he asked between panted breaths. Although his shoulder was pretty scraped up, he didn’t appear any worse for the wear.
Although it was entirely childish, Hannah chose to give the guy the silent treatment. Besides not wanting to speak to the brute, she was thoroughly occupied with trying to figure out ways to escape as soon as possible. With any luck, nothing in her leg was broken. Sure, it throbbed like a son of a bitch, but since she had some movement, she’d undoubtedly heal. And she should bide her time while in the man’s company to learn as much as she could about who he was and who in the hell had set him on her tail.
The guy got up and hauled her along for the ride. When he set her on her feet, she tried to bite her lip to keep silent, but the instant she put any weight on her knee, she cried out.
An arm encircled her waist, hauling her up against what felt like a mountain of muscle. She poised on her good leg and tried to push his hands away. Paltry effort considering she couldn’t get her balance and the fact that she seemed so small next to him. What was he? Some giant humanoid species?
“What hurts?” he asked, his voice a little gruff.
Not talking to you, big boy… Hannah simply shook her head.
He moved to face her while she tried to keep her stability on one leg and not hop around. She’d be damned before she’d show any weakness, but since it was next to impossible to straighten her swollen knee, he had to be a moron not to realize which leg was injured. “Knee or ankle?”
She took perverse pleasure in not talking to him and let him know by tossing him a smile. The smile quickly changed to a frown when he crouched in front of her and started running his huge mitts over every inch of her sore leg.
“Ankle’s fine,” he said as his fingers traced the bones. He kneaded her calf muscle, the touch making her feel suddenly lightheaded.
He hopped right over her knee. Fire shot straight through her at the first touch of his hands on her thigh, especially since he wasn’t at all gentle, nudging between her legs. His fingers all but caressed the juncture, making her squirm in desire.
Devilish gray eyes locked with hers, and she realized he knew exactly how her body was reacting to him. Her own fault, she supposed, for living like a religious zealot who’d vowed celibacy for far too long.
Hannah had just decided to break her vow not to speak to him and blister his ears for his audacity when his hands dropped to touch her knee. She sobbed in pain as tears stung her eyes. To let him see her weakness was beyond humiliating, and right as she regained some control and was ready to let him have it, he swept her into his arms, carefully avoiding touching her wounded knee. “We’ll scan it back on my ship,” he announced. “I don’t think anything’s broken.”
She snorted, figuring since the guy was as solid as a rock, struggling would only make her injury worse. If he had medical equipment, fine. She’d let him heal her.
