Free Traveller's Refuge by Anny Cook

She looked like a bimbo. She acted like a bimbo. But the FBI wouldn’t hire a bimbo as an agent. When she first ended up in his bed, he had done a quick background check on her. He happened to know that she had graduated with honors from MIT.
    All that was left was a small pile of miscellaneous receipts and scraps of paper. Two pens. Three peppermint candies. A pack of gum with two sticks left. He scanned through the receipts and papers. Nothing.
    With a sigh, he tossed everything back in the tote except the makeup bag and pill bottle. He replaced the tote on the chair where he found it, located his pill book and settled on the couch with it and the pill bottle. It didn’t take long to locate the correct page and identify the pills, since he already had an idea of about them. Phenobarbital . That would certainly explain his sudden drowsiness, headache and klutziness last night. He pried off the cap and dumped two pills in his palm. Didn’t they say what was good for the gander was good for the goose?
    He returned the bottle with the remaining pills back to her makeup bag and stuffed it down in her tote beneath her folded clothes.
    It belatedly occurred to him that he hadn’t found her cell phone, so he went to the closet and searched her coat pockets. He was rewarded not only with her cell phone but also found a combination stun gun-flashlight. His eyebrows shot up and he silently whistled. Well, well, well. Wasn’t she the naughty girl! He scrolled through the menus on her phone, taking special note of her most recent calls. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Boy, his father must have a real hard-on to be calling her so frequently.
    Or he expected Traveller to show up at Bish’s apartment. That was more likely.
    He put everything back where he found it and went to prepare breakfast—along with his little surprise for Tiffany. While he fried the bacon and baked the refrigerator sweet rolls, he tried to put himself in Trav’s place.
    Dancer had disappeared four weeks before. Traveller’s picture was on all the news shows along with Dancer’s and they were listed as armed and dangerous. In the past four weeks, there hadn’t been a trace of Dancer once he disappeared in the mountains. Bish was willing to bet that he had found himself a deep hole, crawled in and pulled the dirt and rocks in behind him.
    Trav, on the other hand, was still popping up from time to time, which meant that every law-enforcement type out there with a badge, all the hopped-up bounty-hunters, eagle-eyed grannies and secret agent wannabes would be on his tail. Trav had formidable acting and survival skills, could open any lock with a paperclip and chewing gum and could make any computer sit up and sing. But he was only one man against thousands of hunters who were anxious to nail him, skin him and hang his hide out to dry for the huge reward his capture would bring.
    It was up to Bish to be ready to help him. That meant he had to put Tiffany out of commission. Bish set to work on the orange juice surprise for her. He had a notion it wouldn’t be too long before she made an appearance and he wanted everything ready.
    * * * * *
    Hey , baby .
    Trav’s salutation jerked Wrenna from her contemplations. Traveller ?
    You were expecting someone else ?
    Wrenna couldn’t hold back a smile. I wasn ’ t really expecting anyone , especially you . You said that your shadows had caught up with you . Are you safe now ?
    Trav’s snort of aggravation came through clearly. Not likely . I don ’ t remember the last time I was safe . He sighed. But for the moment , no one is breathing down my neck so let ’ s get back to this bonding crap . You said that mind speech was one of the two signs of attachment . What is the other sign ?
    Schalzina .
    What the hell is that ? Try explaining in words of one or two syllables , he suggested impatiently.
    Schalzina is the name for the physical changes that prepare valley women for bonding . There is rhythmic tightening in the womb and