NaturesBounty

J.
Rose Allister

When
Nature Antillean, aka Nate the Crate, poses as a male stripper to arrest a
sexy-as-hell fugitive, he has no intention of taking his disguise all the
way—until he meets her. Lydia Franklin is more than eager to take her gorgeous
strip-o-gram for a wild ride, considering how desperately life on the run
sucks. The resulting encounter is explosive, but ends with Lydia handcuffed and
Nate honor-bound to take her to jail. The fireworks aren’t over yet, however,
for Nate discovers he’s now a victim of the same setup that got Lydia accused
of a crime she didn’t commit.

With both
of them declared fugitives, Nate must work with the woman he swore to bring to
justice in order to defeat the plot and reclaim their lives. His hot body and
stellar moves give Lydia plenty of motivation for teaming up in more ways than
one, but she knows that the criminal he hopes to protect her from is one she
must face—alone.

A Romantica®
contemporary erotic romance
from
Ellora’s Cave

J. Rose Allister

Sitting on her suitcase did nothing to help Lydia jam in the
rest of the belongings she had hoped to fit inside.

“You’re not listening to me, Ly,” Valerie said over the cell
phone while Lydia bounced up and down on the case lying on her bed. “And don’t
say ‘mm-hm’. I hate it when you pretend to be listening when you’re really
ignoring me.”

The latch on her case still refused to close. “Then you
should know better than to talk to me when I’m busy trying to leave town.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing. And I really should get going.”

“Listen to me. You can’t up and leave this way. Running is
the absolute worst thing you can do right now.”

“Actually, going to jail would be the worst thing. I’m not
going to stick around while my boss slides me into a six-by-six cell. I’ll
spend the next ten years with some tattooed bitch who wants to be my husband.”

“You don’t know that’s going to happen.”

“You’re right, because I’m getting out of here until I
figure out a way out of this. Look, if it’s the bail money you helped front for
me, I told you I’d pay you back.”

“It’s not the money! I’m worried for you. As soon as you
don’t show up for your court appearance, they’ll think you’re guilty. Then it
won’t matter if you’re innocent or not.”

Lydia hopped off her uncooperative suitcase with a sigh and
started yanking clothes out of it. “What do you mean ‘if’ I’m innocent? I was
framed.”

“Sorry. I mean they won’t care that you
are
innocent.
Running is as good as saying you did it.”

“I didn’t steal a damn thing from FTI aside from an
occasional pencil over the years. But no one’s going to believe me, Val. Not
when Andrew’s covered all his bases.”

“They’ll catch you eventually. There’s no way you can get
out of facing that day in court.”

“And before I have that day, I want to turn this around
where it belongs.”

With that, Lydia sank down on her bed and ran a hand through
her hair. She glanced around her room, which resembled the aftermath of a
hurricane. Clothes, shoes and underwear had been thrown every which way while
she decided what to leave behind and what to take for her new life on the run.
Now
there
was a fashion collection she’d never seen hit the runway.

“For the well-dressed fugitive,” she muttered, holding up
her white slacks. “A stunning piece that will take you straight from the bail
bond office to a long road trip.”

“What was that?” Valerie asked.

“Nothing. So, will it be okay for Angel to hang out with you
a while longer?”

“The beast can stay as long as necessary.” There was a
pause. “She misses you, you know. Sometimes she wanders from room to room,
meowing as if she’s calling for you.”

Maybe it was stupid to let that be the thing that undid her,
but Lydia’s eyes watered up nonetheless. The tears blurred her view of the room
she’d just redecorated in creams and powder blue. Had she known she was about
to be slapped with a phony embezzlement charge, she could have saved the money
to help bankroll her escape plan.

“You’re just trying to hit me in the soft spot,” she said
shakily. “The only time that black ball of fluff ever meows for me is when I’m
dishing up her dinner.”

“Don’t go, Lydia.” Valerie’s voice had softened to a gentle
pleading. “Come over and visit the beast. You haven’t seen her since you got
arrested. We’ll sit and talk this through. There’s got to be a better way.”

“You know there isn’t.” She stood. “I’m going, and I’m
staying away until I’m one hundred percent certain I can prove my innocence.
Then I want to see that son of a bitch pay for making me take his fall.”

She wandered to the closet, where she kicked off her heels
and rummaged for a pair of flats. They would be easier for the long drive
across state lines. A few of them, considering her rapidly unfolding plan.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Do you need
money?”

An odd laugh bubbled out of her. “That’s an ironic question,
considering the nice chunk Andrew conveniently transferred to my bank account.
I can’t touch any of it, of course.”

“Hence why I’m asking. They froze you out, didn’t they?”

“Yes, but remember who you’re talking to.” She tiptoed up
and grabbed the hatbox off her closet shelf. She tugged off the lid and was
reassured to see a few tightly rubber-banded rolls of bills. “You know I keep
an emergency stash.”

“True. You’ve always been paranoid about losing access to
money in the bank. I guess you were right all along.”

Lydia started stuffing money into her green leather shoulder
bag. “I figured it would be a major power outage or zombie apocalypse, not
because I had to go on the lam.”

“So there’s absolutely no way I can talk you out of this?”

“Not unless you’re the cops calling to say this was all just
a big misunderstanding.”

Lydia heard a heavy sigh. “When will you leave?”

“As soon as I’m finished packing, probably. Oh, and I won’t
have this number for much longer. I’m going to make a detour and ditch this
cell phone with the GPS on.”

“You’re starting to sound like a wizened criminal now. It’s
scaring me.”

“I’m scaring myself. But this is the number I put on my bond
paperwork, and once they know I’ve skipped out, I’m betting they can trace it.
So I’ll make it that much harder for them by pointing them in the wrong
direction.”

Now Valerie was starting to sound a little panicked. “But
how will I know you’re okay if I can’t call you?”

“I’ll get one of those prepaid phones and call you when I’m
situated. And I’m not going to tell you where I’m going, either. The less you
know, the better off you’ll be if anyone asks.” She hesitated. “And they
probably will. I’m really sorry about that, Val. I hate the thought of you
getting grilled because of me.”

The other woman snorted. “They can torture me and I won’t
talk. But I already know where you’re going. There’s only one logical place.
Just do me a favor when you get there.”

“Anything, unless you’re going to tell me to turn myself
in.”

“Grab the bottle at the back of the top shelf. It’s the good
stuff. Open it on your birthday.”

Her birthday. Hell, with everything going on, she’d almost
forgotten it was next week.

“I will,” Lydia said. “And the first drink goes in the drink
for those who can’t be there with us. I mean me.”

“Damn right. Pour that first glass right into the Pacific,
Ly. In memory of much better times.”

“It’ll be really weird staying at the old place alone.”

“I know. And don’t worry about Angel or me. We’ll both be
fine.”

They clicked off the call, and Lydia walked to the window.
Her eyes scanned the lush, mountainous Colorado landscape that was currently
painted in dusky shades of twilight. “I will miss this view,” she said.

She wasn’t exactly going to a slum, but it wouldn’t be home.
How long would she have to stay on the run? Would she have a home to come back
to? A sofa to curl up on with the cat who was probably wondering what the hell
happened to its owner?

Things would work out somehow. They had to. But first, she
had to get some distance from this place and think of a plan. Before Andrew
played any more wild cards against her rapidly unraveling life.

Just the thought of how he’d violated her quiet, unassuming
existence sent her to the bathroom, where she stripped down and flipped on the
shower. She’d already bathed the second she’d returned from the dingy, nasty
jail. Nevertheless, she twisted her hair into a bun and stepped under the hot
spray. One more for the road to wash away the past few days.

While she showered, she went over every detail of her plan
again. The detour down to New Mexico was regrettable, since she’d rather make a
beeline straight through to California. Still, better to put in the extra
effort to throw authorities off her scent. She would deliberately rent a motel
room in New Mexico with her credit card and ditch the cell phone in the
vicinity. The trail would end there. Afterward, she would have to live off her
wits and sparing amounts of cash.

“Damn you, Andrew Waller, you fucking prick,” she said as
she climbed out and toweled herself dry.

He thought he’d won, punishing her for having the nerve to
discover his scheme. But she still had a trick up her sleeve, one that was
inside the manila envelope that had been the first thing she’d packed. Once she
was out of Colorado, her first stop would be to make copies of the documents
Andrew may or may not have realized she’d taken. One copy would get stashed in
New Mexico, another somewhere closer to her destination. The originals she’d
keep with her while she decided how to use them.

“So that’s it, then,” she said to her weary but determined
reflection in the mirror when she finished scrubbing herself raw a short while
later. “You can do this. You can beat the bastard at his own game without
spending one more night in a stinking jail.”

Standing there naked, she broke down in tears. After
allowing herself a good cry, she found her way to her bed and curled up in her
fluffy blue robe. She needed to get started, she knew. But she’d allow herself
a few hours to indulge in her new pillow-top mattress and soft sheets. Before
first light, she would be on the road.

She would be a fugitive.

* * * * *

Five more minutes. Then Nate would have to decide how he
wanted to play this.

He scanned the room again while he sat at the bar, his
attention focused on the front door and one of the bright-red booths in the
back. The place was considered upscale, with a bar that was polished to a
bright gleam and modern art on the walls that seemed to be a giant step up from
the typical paint-by-numbers or neon-sign fare of other establishments. The
clientele dressed and smelled better than a lot of the dives Nate had cased
too. Still, even with shinier packaging, the place was what it was—a place for
folks to unwind, escape from their lives, or hook up with other lonely souls
looking to unwind or escape from their lives.

He’d been told the woman he sought stopped in at the Red
Apple Lounge every weeknight at six, and she sat in the same booth. Even
better, the woman he was truly after sometimes met her there. But that would be
too much to hope for, the way his luck had been running. This was strictly a
fact-finding mission, the kind that either netted feast or famine and typically
the latter. Questioning friends, relatives and known associates of a bond
jumper often earned him hostility, denial and bullshit, but sometimes he
managed to find someone the jumper had pissed off along their road to crime.
They were all too happy to spill whatever they could in order to get even. On
the other hand, those who’d been fucked over had often been cut out of the
loop, so their information was not always up to date.

Which type this Valerie Ariman would turn out to be was
anyone’s guess.

A grizzled voice cut into his thoughts. “Nate? Nature
fucking Antillean. I don’t believe it.”

Nate turned and saw Benny Shatofski grinning his trademark
grin. “Last I checked, my middle name was Jason, not Fucking.” Nate stuck out
his hand in greeting.

Benny shook the offered hand. “Then I guess times have
changed, stud. Too bad.”

Benny wasn’t much taller standing up than Nate was sitting
down, but to be fair, Nate was currently boosted up on a bar stool. Benny’s
wiry hair was grayer and his leathery skin more wrinkled than the last time
Nate had seen him, but he still had the same hawk eyes and the gold tooth in
front, a memento after a skip had knocked his out.

“How’s it hanging, Benny?”

“Long and strong, same as always.” Benny plopped onto the
stool beside Nate, a move that effectively cutoff his view of the rear booth.
“I was just talking to Joe about you the other day.”

Nate glanced at the door again. Three minutes. “And saying
nothing good, I suppose.”

“I was saying I hadn’t seen Nate the Crate in ages. Heard
you left the game.”

Nate met the older man’s eyes. “You heard right.”

“Yeah? So why does my gut tell me you’re working right now?
Or do old habits just die hard?”

“Some old habits can get people killed.”

“The way I heard it, what happened wasn’t your fault.”

Already, the conversation was twisting his gut. He took a
sip of his beer to settle it. “I’m sure that was a great comfort to the
victim’s family.”

Benny ordered a long neck and pulled off his black leather
gloves. “We don’t exactly sell daisies at the airport, you know. You ask me,
all the pretty names they use for us these days are a bunch of shit. Bond
enforcement, surety agents, bail fugitive investigators.” He snorted. “It all
sounds so professional, doesn’t it? When you and I both know the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You can’t sugar coat what we do. We’re bounty hunters. We
collar bad guys for money. Oh, it might not be quite the same as the Old West
with six-shooters and wanted posters, but we’re not as far off that dusty trail
as some like to think.”

“Your point being?”

“In a job like this, shit happens. Someone’s eventually
going to get hurt. I’m not saying it isn’t fucked and sucked, but it’s a risk
we take.”

“The risk I signed up for involved my own neck or maybe the
occasional neck of a criminal. Not an innocent bystander.”

“You didn’t pull the trigger. Don’t let that shit eat at
you, or you can’t do the job.”

“I’m not doing the job anymore.” In theory.

Benny cocked his head at him. “Okay, fine. You’re not on the
job. Then would you mind telling me why you’ve had your radar dialed up to a
hundred while you’ve been scanning the joint?”

Nate leaned his forearms on the bar. “So maybe Asa talked me
into one last favor.
One.
Then I’m out.”