Mother by Fate

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?”