Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
H arbor
Her expression told me everything I needed to know. There it all was, etched on her lovely face. Liar. Traitor. I placed my fragile trust in you and you do this?
I expected it. She mentioned my hands, but she hadn’t seen what they had done. What they were capable of. Breaking up bar fights was the least of my sins. I had let myself be drawn into the fantasy that I could be gentle, someone delicate, a man that an artist like Katrina could love.
That was all it was: a fantasy.
“You’re a bounty hunter?” She crossed her arms over her chest, looking adorably imperial in her flannel pajamas, her hair mussed from my hands. “Why the hell would you do all this—” she gestured at the groceries and the fire—“if you were planning on cashing in? Wouldn’t it have been easier and faster to drive me straight to Milwaukee? Why would you make me care about you if you were going to screw me over?”
My heart stuttered on the bit where she said she cared about me, but shame was enough to quash that hope. I should have known better. “I believe that you’re innocent. I don’t normally take bounty cases. It’s not my thing, picking up lowlifes who run out on their tab. You seemed different. You needed help. I thought that maybe if we collaborated, if we could find some evidence, then we could bring that to the police.”
Her jaw slackened. “I see. So then, you're a big hero, Harbor Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is, getting the cash and the glory, and I’m in jail awaiting trial?”
“If we show those videos and proof of your bus pass receipts to the police, the charges will be dropped. They won’t have a case, except for accusing Pete Dobbs of fraud.” I forced myself not to raise my voice. “I’m sorry. Really. I care about you, Katrina.”
“Yeah, right.” She nodded, her tone bitter. “You care enough to fuck me before you turn me in. Thanks a lot.”
Technically, I hadn’t, but I did not think it would help my case to mention that. “I’ll go.”
That was a long overdue plan. With her cold stare on me, I collected my laptop and belongings. I debated bringing the coffee and a pastry with me, but that seemed a bit crass.
“I won’t tell anyone where you are,” I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “You have enough supplies here for a few days. If I see the other bounty hunter, I’ll redirect them. Lay low.”
“Don’t pretend you care.” Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, and it scarred me deeper than shrapnel. “Get out.”
Knowing that this was over, and feeling more like an unlovable bruiser than I ever had before, I stepped to the door and pulled it open.
Half a foot of snow blew over the threshold and onto my boots.
Outside was a wall of white, a heavy snowstorm with visibility of no more than three inches in front of my face. Only by the grace of the lopsided porch roof could I even see the outline of my rental car, a quarter-buried in fresh powder.
“What’s wrong?” Katrina demanded, stepping beside me. Her energy deflated the moment she looked outside.
I sighed. “We’re snowed in.”