Bang! Bang! Bang!
Dakota Osborne startled awake from her ratty, threadbare recliner she refused to throw away. She fumbled for her gun but couldn’t immediately locate it. The banging on the door continued so she pulled her knife from its sheath at her ankle and crept to the front of the room.
Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears, but her mind was clear. She stayed out of the line of fire of the doorway, in case whoever was outside decided to blast their way in, and ran through a mental list of everyone who could be pissed enough at her to be outside assaulting her entry. Admittedly, the list was longer than she’d like, but that was because usually she was the one kicking down doors as part of her job as a bail enforcement agent. She was a bounty hunter and the job was as kick-ass as it sounded. Except for right now when it might kick her ass.
Almost as abruptly as the barrage on her door began, it stopped. She listened for the sound of a cocking firearm or the ragged breathing of a nervous assailant. Instead, a woman, perfectly calm and friendly called out. “Ms. Osborne, you prefer to be called Oz, am I right? I’d like a moment of your time. I know you’re in there. Whatever weapon you have pointed at me, please lower it. I’m unarmed.”
“What the ever-loving fuck.” Instinctively, Oz followed the woman’s request and lowered the knife before catching herself. “I’m supposed to believe that? My door would disagree that you’re harmless.”
“I tried knocking politely, but you didn’t answer. I thought maybe you were in the bathroom or asleep in your armchair.”
Oz spun to look at the windows facing her recliner. The shades as always were drawn. How could her mystery guest have known that? She wanted to ask so the woman would keep talking. She sounded pretty which was absolutely not a reason to strike up conversation. Jesus, she needed to get laid.
“Are you going to let me in? I’ll put my hands on my head or against the wall or whatever you need to feel comfortable.” There was amusement in her tone now.
Oz pressed her fist to her forehead, nearly slicing her eyebrow in the process. She struggled not to think of the hot woman she imagined with her legs spread and her hands against the wall. Before things got more out of hand than they already were, Oz threw caution to the wind and yanked the front door open.
For the love of God, please be ugly.
The woman on her front stoop was not only not ugly, she was stunningly beautiful. She had the kind of effortless style that would look at home on the streets of Paris and was of a kind Oz knew she’d never be able to pull off. The woman’s hair was cut in a choppy short pixie and her makeup was understated but gorgeous. She looked startled by Oz’s sudden appearance but recovered quickly.
“You’re not ugly.” Oz nearly facepalmed at her lack of filter.
Instead of slapping her, the woman smirked and looked her up and down. “Neither are you, stud.” She looked over her shoulder, tension creeping into her previously cheeky expression. “Mind if I come in?”
“I don’t usually let people in…” Oz trailed off as the woman breezed past her and into the house. “Sure, come on in.”
“Thank you. Do you mind locking the door? I’m Frances, Frankie, Sender by the way.” Frankie looked nervous.
Oz did as requested, not liking being told what to do in her own house one bit and also intrigued that Frankie was able to get her to comply so easily. She told herself it was how scared Frankie suddenly looked, but Oz wasn’t sure that was really the reason. She took a seat in her recliner and grabbed the TV remote. She’d nodded off halfway through the season finale of her current favorite show.
“What are you doing?” Frankie put her hands on her hips.
Oz paused the TV. “You crashed into my house and seem to think you’re running this show. I figure you’ll get around to telling me why you’re here when you’re ready. In the meantime I’m going to finish my program.” She pressed play.
Frankie snatched the remote from her hand and turned the TV off. “I need your help. No, that’s not right. I want to hire you.”
“Are you a bondsman?” Oz sat up and looked at Frankie more carefully, far from a hardship. She didn’t look like any bail bondsman Oz had ever met.
“What?” Frankie looked horrified. “God, no.”
“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you. Wikipedia can explain what bounty hunters do. I’m not private security. You can look up Holt Lasher and her team if that’s what you’re looking for.”
Frankie made a face. “I’m not interested in her or her team. I’m sure she’s very qualified, but I’m not looking for the top dog. I want someone with more to prove and a disgusting recliner they can’t afford to replace.”
Oz held up a finger. “Hold on, I know you just insulted me, I need a minute to figure out how badly.”
“Get over yourself. You’re a little pip-squeak of an operation, barely surviving. Holt’s got a huge team, all the bells and whistles she could ask for, and a beautiful wife and family.” Frankie ticked off Holt’s assets on her fingers.
“So you’re offering yourself up for marriage? We don’t even know each other. What’s your favorite bagel flavor? Which side of the bed do you sleep on? What’s your mother’s name?” Oz knew she shouldn’t enjoy Frankie’s look of annoyance that grew more pronounced the longer she talked, but damn if she did anyway.
“I’ll marry you the day you get rid of that recliner.”
Oz knew Frankie wasn’t serious, but she was tempted to consent just to see how Frankie responded. “No deal.”
“Enough nonsense. I told you I need to hire you. Will you hear me out? I promise it will be worth your while.” Frankie cast around until she seemed to find somewhere she was willing to sit and perched on the edge of Oz’s coffee table.
The house wasn’t dirty so Oz wasn’t sure what the problem was. It seemed like Frankie was spontaneously uncomfortable in her skin, not just in the house. Oz rolled her finger indicating Frankie should continue. The least she could do was hear her out. Then maybe she’d leave and Oz could get back to her show.
“I’m due in court in three days and I have no intention of making my appearance.” Frankie picked at her fingernail but looked Oz in the eye.
Oz sat up and leaned forward. This was intriguing. “I’ve never had a skip come to give me a heads-up. What’s stopping me from keeping you here until you’ve missed your court date and hauling you back in?”
Frankie gave her a withering look. “The kidnapping charge I’d imagine.”
Oz waved her hand trying to make it seem like such things were a minor concern to her. Frankie was right though, without bond paperwork she had no ability to keep Frankie, regardless of her declared intentions related to her court date.
“Out of curiosity, what are you charged with?” Oz schooled her face into casual disinterest.
“Murder.” The corners of Frankie’s mouth quirked up.
“Lovely.” Oz had no idea what look crossed her face before she could regain control of her expression.
“I didn’t do it.” Frankie sounded like Oz should have already surmised as much.
“Obviously.”
Frankie looked deflated. “You don’t believe me.”
Oz shrugged. “Occupational hazard. Plus, I don’t know anything about you. No reason to think you couldn’t commit murder. No reason to think you could, except that someone said you did.”
“Well, this would have been easier if you’d given me the benefit of the doubt, but it doesn’t matter either way. I need you to keep me alive until I can prove my innocence and finish my investigation into the company that’s framing me. As soon as that’s done, I’ll let you bring me in and you can collect the bounty for me missing my court date. I promise it’s worth it to you. My bond was extremely high.” Frankie’s face was cool and matter-of-fact, but she wasn’t able to mask the hope in her eyes.
“No.” Oz didn’t hesitate.
Frankie gaped at her. “You don’t know how much money you could make.”
“I don’t care. I’m not protecting a murderer.” She paused when Frankie glared at her. “Alleged murderer. I’m not protecting an alleged murderer and helping you evade the law. It goes against everything I stand for.”
Oz saw the moment Frankie’s anger turned to fear and then desperation. What had Frankie expected? There was no way she could agree to what Frankie had proposed, which made it all the more annoying when her heart tugged at Frankie’s clear distress.
“I’m sorry I can’t help you. You’re welcome to anything in the fridge before you head back out. There’s coffee and I think I have some tea.”
Oz could hear her mother’s voice ringing in her head scolding her for her poor life choices and being a disappointment to the family. If only her mother could see her now, offering tea to a murderer. Alleged murderer. She looked over her shoulder at Frankie looking lost standing in the kitchen. Why was there a piece of her that would be sad to see her go?