The Huntress: full-length sexy romantic suspense Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Though, I can take care of myself.”
    “I hope so,” he said as he wandered away.
    She’d traveled too far to find this bar sitting in the middle of what the locals called Hell Hole Swamp, to run away now. Though she’d rather be spending Christmas Eve anywhere but here—more than thirty minutes from a freaking paved road—she wanted nothing more than to slap her cuffs onto her quarry’s wrists.
    Jack had promised her that she could find this Grayson Walker with her eyes closed.
    That had been a month ago.
    She sipped the beer—slightly watered down—wondering again if she’d been mistaken about this place. Turning around, she stood with her back to the greasy Formica bar, letting her gaze search the darkened corners of the room.
    The burly bartender could be the owner, Tommy Fisher. There was a definite resemblance to the photo tucked into her pocket. According to Tommy’s cousin, Grayson and Tommy hadn’t exactly remained friends after serving together in Special Ops. But they weren’t enemies. That made Tommy a contact, a very good contact considering Grayson’s short supply of friends.
    She watched as the bartender carried a beer over to a gloomy booth in the far corner of the bar. A man, who was slumped down in the cushions, sat upright for a moment to accept the proffered drink.
    Bingo.
    The unmistakably finely chiseled cheekbones of Grayson stood out in this bar like a cut diamond in a pile of coal.
    Unconsciously, she reached around to the small of her back to where her Glock 9 sat nestled in its holster and unhooked the latch. She was not about to take any chances with this one. Not after Grayson had rewarded the last bounty hunter to go after him with a bullet in the head.
    She glanced around, assessing the situation.
    Taking him here, in this bar filled with lawless hicks, would be just asking for trouble. But there was a back exit only steps away from where he sat. If she could get him to go out the back way, she could trap him.
    There was nothing out that way except a dumpster sitting on a concrete pad. The property sloped sharply down into a murky swamp. An army of towering cypresses rising up from a sea of black water slowly advanced on the building, probably trying to reclaim the land that had been stolen years before.
    Surely Grayson, from Atlanta’s concrete wilderness, wouldn’t risk the dangers of the swamp in the middle of the night. He’d stand and fight.
    Fight. That was exactly what she wanted him to do.
    The bartender bent down and whispered something in Grayson’s ear. Both men turned to stare.
    Undaunted, she smiled and raised her glass in a mock salute. She pushed away from the bar and started toward them, swinging her slim hips.
    I sure hope he’s attracted to women , she thought while she sidled across the room, slowly unzipping her jacket. She could feel several eyes burning into her skin as she used her figure, which had been described as sexy more times than she cared to hear, to throw Grayson off-guard.
    “Buy me a beer,” she said, her voice husky, just before sliding into Grayson’s corner booth. She looked up at the burly barkeep—his expression literally growled—and graced him with her most disarming smile. “He’ll pay,” she said. She turned her sultry gaze back toward Grayson. “I guarantee he will.”
    Grayson stared at her, his mouth slightly open. “I want to be alone,” he grumbled after Tommy left, shaking his head as if trying to clear out a bunch of cobwebs.
    “On Christmas Eve? No one wants to be alone on Christmas Eve.”
    “I’m Jewish,” he said.
    “Oh,” she said, though she knew full well he’d been raised Protestant. She knew damn near everything about him, except for his taste in women. “Well, maybe I don’t want to be alone.” She looked around the room at the motley group of men sipping on their drinks. “At least, not here.”
    Grayson nodded. “I understand. This isn’t exactly a safe place. You don’t belong