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No matter, at the moment, how he knew any of her clients were her clients...
She might have made a fool of herself this day, but she absolutely had not led this man to the Lemonade Stand.
Unless he’d hung around all afternoon...followed her to work...
Climbing over the edge of the hot tub rather than wasting time on the stairs, Sara grabbed her towel and wrap, putting the latter on without drying first. “I need you to tell me who’s in danger.”
“Hold on.” One hand up, Michael stepped out of the pool as well, dripping in his wet trunks. “No one’s in immediate danger. I hope. At least not one of your clients. Not from anything I’m involved in. You can rest assured about that. If you’ll just give me a few minutes of your time, I’ll explain everything. You have my word on that.”
His look was direct, as always.
“Forgive me if your word doesn’t carry a whole lot of weight with me at the moment.” She said the words, even though she wasn’t sure they were completely true. They should be true. She wanted them to be true. Nothing else made sense.
He acknowledged her statement with a nod.
“You’re sure none of my clients are in immediate danger?” She spoke carefully now, ensuring that she didn’t give him anything that might inadvertently tell him something he’d come back to find.
“I’m sure.”
She’d hear him out, because not to do so would be stupid. She didn’t even know who they were talking about. Or what, if anything, he really knew.
And then she would call Sanchez. And Tammy. And Lila, too, just because she always kept the managing director informed. The members of the High Risk Team were there for anyone who might be in danger. This was their job. It was what they did.
“Let me see your bounty hunter’s license.”
“It’s in my car. In my wallet. In the back pocket of my jeans.”
“Go get it. And get dressed while you’re at it. I’m going to do the same and I’ll meet you back here.”
“How long do you need?”
“Five minutes.”
She wasn’t giving him any more time than it took for him to tell her who he was after. And then she wanted him gone.
Before she did something stupid like start remembering that, for a few short hours, she’d had a bit of a crush.
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_8c01c35b-8bb0-52db-a049-5de4507dbf35)
HE’D LOST HER TRUST. Her good regard. He’d lost any hope of making love with the beautiful counselor. Michael’s goal was in sight.
And he felt like shit.
Worse than shit.
He could sleep with shit.
He couldn’t sleep if he knew a desperate runner was on the loose in his hometown.
Sara was already at the pool when he made it back. She was sitting by a security light at a table looking all business in a short-sleeved white button-up shirt and dark-colored jeans. Her honey-colored hair was pulled up in some kind of bun.
If she’d hoped to make herself appear less sexy with that stern expression, no makeup and sloppy hair, she’d failed miserably.
Her smartphone lay on the table less than an inch from her fingers. She held her back straight, her shoulders stiff.
Pushing back the inappropriate urge to bend down and kiss her exposed neck, to take in a healing whiff of her scent, Michael dropped his license in front of her.
She picked it up. Studied it. And set it back on the table as opposed to handing it to him. Michael returned it to his wallet.
She was the boss here. They’d play it her way.
“I saw you with my runner yesterday,” he said, coming straight to the point now that there was no reason not to. They’d both need to get some sleep.
He had to be ready to go at dawn.
“I tracked down what bus she took and was checking every stop from LA to Santa Raquel, showing her picture around, when suddenly I saw her outside a store with you.”
Sara’s frown appeared genuine as she shook her head. “I wasn’t shopping yesterday.”
For a second Michael had to wonder if she was harboring a known criminal. If, in fact, Sara wasn’t Nicole’s counselor, wasn’t being duped, but was, instead, someone from Nicole’s past.
Not a sister. He’d run a check on Sara’s family. One older brother. No sisters. Parents still married. Ungodly rich.
All in LA. Beverly Hills. Ten miles from where Trevor Kramer lived in fear of losing his son.
“You said her.”
“That’s right.”
“Your runner is female.”
“Yes.”
“You have an open warrant?”
“That’s right.”
“You’re sure.”
She’d changed. Become the pursuer.
She knew something.
“A bounty hunter’s first duty is to check the current status of all warrants. We could end up in jail for kidnapping if we cuffed someone and hauled them in without a warrant.”
She seemed to ponder that.
“When was the last time you checked the warrant?”
“This afternoon. I check daily, just to be on the safe side.”
With her lips pursed, she studied him.
Michael felt like scum.
“Look, so maybe the way I went about this wasn’t my brightest moment, but lives are in danger here.”
“Whose lives?”
“A baby’s. His father’s. Others. This woman is dangerous. And armed.”
“I was with an armed woman.”
“That’s right.”
“You saw me.”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure it was me.”
“Yes.”
He was a fish on her hook. And wasn’t sure how they’d exchanged places.
“Look, I’m not in this for the money,” he said, out of water and babbling. “I need you to understand. I’ve got my doctorate degree in psychology. I just put it to use in a different way than most.” Far different. “I only go after dangerous warrant jumpers. They, more than most criminals, are a threat to society because they’re desperate. You know the runner mentality... They’re in survival mode. Every one appears to be an enemy. They’ll do whatever it takes...”
“And you think this woman I was supposedly with is in that mode.”
“I know she is. I’ve talked to the police. I visited her husband. I met her son.”
“Who did you talk to from the police?”
“Detective Miller with the LAPD. He was the arresting officer. He issued the warrant when she jumped bail, too.”
“Did you talk to anyone else?”
She was very clearly squeezing him. If he hadn’t been so good at it himself, he might not have noticed.
She might be playing him, but he needed her. And the answer to her question wouldn’t hurt anything.
“Yes. I’ve spoken with other officers about this case, as well. I know a lot of them. I’ve been at this gig, full-time, for three years.”
“And you’ll do anything to get your man. Or woman.”
“Within the law, yes.”
“Including lie to me.”
He’d already admitted to doing so.
“So how do I know you aren’t lying now?”
“You don’t.”
Sara leaned forward then. “Tell me, Mr. Bounty Hunter, what do you want from me?”
He missed the woman he’d sat with in the hot tub. The one he’d met at the pool. He knew she was the real Sara Havens. And that it was his fault she was no longer present in his company.
The job was more important than he was.
“I guess we both know we’re talking about Nicole Kramer.”
Her face gave away nothing. “If I had a client named Nicole, I wouldn’t be at liberty to speak about her.”
He leaned forward. “This woman doesn’t deserve your protection.”
She didn’t say a word.
“Do you have any idea what she’s done?”
“I don’t have any idea who you’re talking about, but I guess you’re about to tell me what this woman you’re after has done.”
She looked at her phone. For the second time.
She might know. She might not. He couldn’t take the chance. “This warrant is for jumping bail on two counts of attempted kidnapping with a loaded gun. Two armed B and Es. And attempted assault with a deadly weapon. She shot at a man.”
“If she’s as dangerous as you say she is, she’d have shot him, rather than just shooting at him, wouldn’t you think?”
Was she telling him something? Because she knew something? Or was she humoring him?
“Nicole weighs about a hundred pounds,” he said. “She’s a meth addict. She was high when she took the shot.”
“Why didn’t the warrant include use of an illegal substance?”
“She wasn’t tested.”
“So there’s no proof that she was under the influence.”
More statements. More fishing?
“No.”
She nodded.
“Her previous record is pages long,” he blurted. If nothing else, Sara Havens had to see that she was associating with an incredibly dangerous person.
He cared, only because he needed Sara to see the danger so that she’d help him. At least that was what he told himself. He had no jurisdiction over Sara’s private life.
