Free Bounty by Aubrey St. Clair

just need to sack up and deal with the fallout when it happens, instead of backing off to spare her little feelings. There’s a lot of money at stake here. Life changing money.
    “Solid copy, Vicente.”
    This is what I do for a living. This is who I am.
    I told her I wasn’t good people. I can’t help if she didn’t listen.

    I don’t want to just show up at her shop again — that’s what I did lasttime and it didn’t go well. Well, maybe it went too well, actually. But trying that same ploy again would be pushing my luck.
    It’s a piece of cake to wait until her GPS movements are hurtling down the highway to the gun range, and to hop on my motorcycle and beat her there. I make sure to set up in the stall next to the one we went to on our first dat e— she won’t be able to see me immediately, unless she’s being nosy, but I will be able to hear her, watch her shots.
    A few minutes later she arrives. I can tell it’s her by the stamp of her heavy boots, the way her keys jangle. I know her so well, already, but half of the time I’ve “spent” with her was just me eavesdropping on her in her personal space with illegal surveillance hardware.
    Jesus. You’re an asshole, Copperhead.
    Craning my neck around the divider between her space and mine, I find her deep in concentration, lining up a shot. She’s still, and perfect. Holding her rifle, oblivious to me, I get to watch her for a few moments before she sees me. But it’s hard to watch. She’s just….
    I force my eyes off of her. Get a grip, Copperhead . I’m here to bring a criminal to justice. Not ogle at the way the sunshine breaking through the rainclouds hits her hair.
    I step up to the firing line, parallel to her, and sight up my pistol for a shot.
    She’s got to notice me now.
    BLAM, BLAM, BLAM! I peg the target, twice between the eyes and once between the legs. That’s her move.
    “Liam?” I can just hear her voice over my ear muffs.
    I turn to her.
    “Oh, hi April.”
    “Liam!” Her mouth gapes in surprise and she lowers her gun and flips on the safety in one fluid motion.
    Her green eyes are huge under the magnification of the safety goggles.
    “You’re a woman of many safety goggles,” I say, tapping my temple gently.
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I just wanted to talk to you.”
    “So you stalked me to my shooting range?”
    “I just knew you’d come here eventually to blow off steam.”
    “How long were you waiting?”
    Shit.
    Instead of answering, I draw closer to her. Her breath catches, just a moment. In fright, or anger, or lust, I can’t tell.
    Then her mouth sets, and her eyelids lower. An eyebrow arches above her right eye, and she glares up at me.
    I never thought about how small she is. She fills every room she enters, but she’s chest-height at best.
    “Do you like me, or not?” she asks. She’s a real straight shooter, point-blank. And I know, in that moment, that the answer is an unequivocal yes. I more than like her. I like her way too much for this mission.
    “You’re trouble,” I say instead.
    “And you’re an asshole.” She leans her gun against her shoulder and makes a smart about-face. “I’m done letting you jerk me around. I’ve had enough.” She marches to the back entrance of the check-in building, away from me.
    “April, wait.” I follow.
    “You either like me or you don’t,” she says, spinning quickly to glare at me. “It’s a simple question.”
    Except that it doesn’t have a simple answer. And I’ve got to explain my behavior in a way that doesn’t let her know what I’m doing, but might also win her back.
    “It’s not simple. Yes, I do like you.”
    Her mouth twists to the side in a dissatisfied smile.
    “I’m sensing a but.”
    “ But ,” I continue. “I know you just broke up with your fiancé. I know you’re having a hard time. And I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
    “Why would you hurt me?”
    “Because people close to me get hurt.”
    She suddenly