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  “Stop it,” she hissed over her shoulder before running to catch up to Hall, who was just a couple steps away from the register. The clerk was ignoring all the commotion, still caught up in his book.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Hall grimaced as he dropped the six-pack of beer and two bottles of wine he’d been holding. The bottles crashed to the floor as Hall spun around, reaching toward the back waistband of his jeans. Molly knew exactly what he was doing. He was going for his gun.

  “Hey! You’re going to have to pay for those!” the cashier demanded, jerking up straight.

  Molly leapt toward Hall in a last-ditch effort to save the situation, hoping to take him down before he started shooting, but she was plucked out of the air mid-tackle and hauled behind a display of vodka before she could reach him.

  “I’m not paying for those,” Hall snarled. Although Molly couldn’t see what was happening, she heard the clerk whimper. “You’re paying me. Empty the till. Now! Move!”

  Molly tried to move, to go help the cashier, but there were still two boa-constrictor-size arms wrapped around her middle.

  “What in the freaking world are you doing, weirdo?” she whisper-yelled, elbowing the stranger in the midsection and taking grim pleasure in his grunt as she connected. “Let go!” His hold loosened, allowing her to wiggle free.

  “He has a gun!” the man hissed. “Stay here and stay down.” Not waiting to see if she followed his commands, he moved quickly but quietly to the end of the aisle and slipped out of sight.

  “I know he has a gun,” Molly grumbled, even though he couldn’t hear. “He was arrested for armed robbery. Of course he’s carrying a gun.”

  Even as she muttered under her breath, trying to pretend her heart wasn’t trying to beat out of her chest, she crouched low and peered around the endcap. All she could see was Hall’s back, and she grimaced. She could only assume he had the gun trained on the clerk, and trying to take him down now could get the poor guy shot.

  As she watched, Hall’s gaze jumped around—looking for her and the grabby stranger, Molly assumed. She shifted out of his line of sight and tapped out a text to the deputies as quietly as possible, updating them on the situation and asking if they could speed up their arrival. Tucking her phone back in her pocket, she returned to the end of the aisle. Staying as low as possible, she shifted until she could barely see Hall through the bottles of vodka, waiting until he turned to look behind him. As he turned, the gun shifted as well, rotating with his body until it was pointing away from the clerk.

  Even as her brain screamed What are you doing? Molly launched herself out of her concealed spot, driving herself forward as she aimed for the weapon. Her hands latched around Hall’s wrist, dragging down his arm as the gun went off, the expected roar sounding like a mere pop to her ears.

  Grabbing the barrel with one hand, she jerked it upward, and Hall gave a sharp scream as his fingers snapped. His grip loosened, and she yanked the gun free, tossing it away from them. A fist glanced off her temple, knocking her head to the side. Hall had punched her with his other, unbroken hand, but the angle was awkward, not giving him the force he needed to really hurt her. Before he could give it another try, she gave him a palm strike to the chin, knocking his teeth together with an audible clack.

  He yelled, shaking off the hit and bunching his fist, shoving her against the wall. Her back hit painfully against the edge of a shelf, and she swallowed a yelp. Before she could recover, his forearm pressed across her throat, pinning her. She forced herself to hold still, to not fight the thick arm currently blocking her airflow. As fast as her heart was beating, it didn’t take long for bright sparks to dot her vision, but she still struggled to wait for her chance to knee him in a sensitive spot.

  There was a roar behind them, and then the arm across her throat was gone. Sucking in painful, rough breaths, she blinked the sparkles out of her eyes, staring as the stranger threw—literally threw—Hall into a display of chip bags.

  “Whoa,” she said, blinking, and then snapped out of her fog as the wail of approaching sirens grew steadily louder. She wasn’t about to have gone through all of this and not get Hall’s bounty. Shaking her head to get rid of the odd floating feeling, she pounced, rolling a groaning Hall from his side to his stomach and cranking his left hand behind his back as she settled a knee against his spine.

  The stranger watched her, his furiously protective expression slowly returning to a more neutral one.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She gave him her best you’ve got to be kidding look. “No thanks to you. What was all that?” Since her hands were occupied with keeping a still-dazed Hall in place, she jerked her head toward the far aisle where the doofus had blown her entire plan out of the water.

  Now the guy was looking irritated at her—at her! “I was saving you from getting shot. Don’t you know who he is?”

  “Of course I do.” She frowned back at him, ignoring the noises coming from the traumatized clerk. From the sound of it, the poor guy was throwing up his lunch behind the counter. “Do you think I just drag random people back to jail?”

  His frown deepened as he propped his fists on his hips. “If you knew that was Hall, why’d you go after him? You only pick up the nonviolent skips.”

  “Who are you, and how do you know that?”

  Before he could answer, two deputies—Molly recognized them as Darren and Maria—burst into the store with guns drawn. After they took in the situation, Darren holstered his weapon.

  “Is that Cameron Hall?” he asked the stranger. “Nice catch.”

  “Hey!” There was no way Molly was about to let him get credit for bringing in her skip. “He’s my nice catch, Darren. Me. The one sitting on him.”

  To her annoyance, the deputy gave the stranger a questioning look. If she’d had a free hand and a convenient projectile, she would’ve thrown something.

  “Yeah, he’s hers,” the stranger agreed, surprising her. So far in their short acquaintance, he hadn’t gone out of his way to make her life easier. “It was impressive.”

  “His gun’s over there.” Molly dipped her head toward the weapon. “I tossed it after I disarmed him.” She gave Darren a glare.

  “Sorry.” He gave her an apologetic shrug as he moved to cuff Hall, who’d been oddly quiet. As Molly moved off of him, she saw that he’d passed out.

  “Uh-huh.” She wasn’t feeling too forgiving at the moment. Her neck hurt. “Careful with his right hand. I broke his fingers disarming him—Cameron Hall, the skip that I just took down all by myself, with no help from any random weirdos.”

  “Hey, I helped.” The stranger sounded more amused than put out, though.

  Fine. She had to give him that much. “After you mucked everything up.” She tried to hold on to her annoyance, but the idea that she’d done it was finally sinking in. She’d brought in Cameron Hall, a skip with a bounty large enough to pay for a whole year of Cara’s tuition.

  “I was trying to keep you from being killed.” Leaning back against the counter, the stranger crossed his arms over his chest, and Molly struggled even more to hold her scowl. Did guys learn to do that, to make their biceps bulge in that specific way? Was there some kind of class?

  Shaking off her distraction, she focused on holding his gaze. “I can do that just fine by myself. Who are you, anyway, and how do you know my name—and what kind of skips I go after?”

  “John Carmondy.” His smile was slow, curling up at the edges before it spread to his cheeks, revealing a killer pair of dimples. “Fellow bounty hunter.”

  Tipping her head back, she groaned. Of course he was. Everything was so much clearer now. Reopening her eyes, she directed a stern look at him. “Were you trying to steal my skip?”

  “Of course not.” She would’ve believed he was actually offended by her accusation if it wasn’t for the amusement hidden in his voice. “I d
on’t have to steal them.”

  “Uh-huh.” She tried to make it clear that she didn’t believe him. “You just happened to be in here, shouting my name and letting him know that I’m a bounty hunter. Are you a dirty cheater, John Carmondy? Because that’s what it looks like.”

  “I am not a dirty cheater.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  His eyes gleamed with amusement. “I have never cheated. I was helping you. Bounty hunter to bounty hunter. Brother to sister—in the most hypothetical sense, of course. You barely needed my help, though. I’m impressed.”

  Despite herself, his compliment made her glow. She’d actually done it. She’d taken down Cameron Hall and proven that she could earn the big payouts. As much as she wanted to continue reveling in that, though, she had paperwork to complete and a bounty to claim. Turning toward the door, she couldn’t keep the enormous, triumphant grin off her face. “I need to go get my hard-earned money. We’ll see you around, John Carmondy.”

  “Count on it, Molly Pax.”

  Chapter 3

  “So…wait.” Norah frowned when Molly finished telling her sisters a mildly edited version of the day’s events. If they knew how close she’d come to being shot and/or beaten, they’d be upset, and Molly tried very hard to keep her sisters content. After all the nonsense their mom had put them through growing up, they deserved to be happy. “Was he helping or not?”

  “If he was, he’s the worst helper in the world,” Molly said, the last couple of words swallowed in a yawn. “He sure is pretty, though.”

  Charlie and Cara exchanged what Molly called their “silent twin speech” look. “You like him?” Cara asked carefully.

  “Of course not. He’s ridiculous. I just found him objectively aesthetically appealing.”

  “Riiiight.” Felicity drew out the word in the most sarcastic way possible, and Molly tried to glare her into submission, but it wasn’t working. She was too sleepy and drained and satisfied to hold her annoyance, and her frown quickly shifted back to a smile.

  “The important thing is that Cara has her tuition money back,” Molly said as Cara looked both stricken and hopeful.

  “I can’t—”

  “Nope.”

  “But there’s—”

  “You’re going back to school,” Molly said with finality. “I’ll keep it in my account, and that way, you can honestly tell Mom that you don’t have any money.”

  Cara blinked, the stricken look fading until only hope remained. “I’m going to pay you back.”

  “Please.” Molly flipped a hand at her. “You work so many hours, I owe you money.”

  As Cara’s eyes began to gleam with the start of grateful tears, Molly stood up, swaying slightly.

  “You can be emotional tomorrow. Tonight, I’m going to take an extra-long shower, then I’m going to bed. I’m going to sleep for a minimum of twelve hours, and I will most likely have something frosted and bad for me for breakfast tomorrow.”

  Blinking rapidly, Cara smiled. “Sounds like a plan. I’m going to register for classes.”

  The excitement in her sister’s voice sent another ping of joy through Molly. As she dragged herself upstairs, her brain was full of thoughts. The business was succeeding—only just, but that was better than being in the red. Cara wouldn’t miss any school, Charlie and Felicity were ecstatic to keep chasing and tackling skips, and Norah loved to research and play with their tech. Warrant was just happy to fall asleep under the table and use someone’s foot as a pillow.

  Things were good.

  So why couldn’t she stop thinking about John Carmondy?

  Forget him, the practical voice in her head ordered. You probably won’t ever see him again.

  She gave a determined nod, ignoring the niggling feeling that she was just fooling herself. John Carmondy, with his stupid muscles and dimples and wicked sense of humor, would not be so easy to forget.

  About the Author

  A graduate of the police academy, Katie Ruggle is a self-proclaimed forensics nerd. A fan of anything that makes her feel like a badass, she has trained in Krav Maga, boxing, and gymnastics; has lived in an off-grid solar- and wind-powered house in the Rocky Mountains; rides horses; trains her three dogs; and travels to warm places to scuba dive. You can visit her at katieruggle.com.

  In Her Sights

  Meet a band of bounty hunter sisters…and the men who steal their hearts.

  Bounty hunter Molly Pax fought hard for everything she has. But now every two-bit criminal in the Rockies sees her family’s latest misfortune as their next big break and she needs help, stat. Enter rival bounty hunter John Carmondy: six feet of pure trouble, with a cocky grin to match. John’s the most cheerfully, annoyingly gorgeous frenemy Molly’s ever had…and he may be her only hope of making it out of this mess alive.

  “Vivid and charming.”

  —Charlaine Harris, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  For more, visit:

  amazon.com

  Deep Blue

  A Survival Instincts Novella

  Adriana Anders

  To my brothers.

  Heroes in their own ways.

  Chapter 1

  Zoe shouldn’t have come out to the oil platform alone.

  How many times had Jane warned her? How many times had she promised her partner that she wouldn’t scuba dive offshore rigs on her own? But she’d done it before, and she’d do it again.

  Unless, of course, this time was her last.

  Crap.

  Eighty-five feet beneath the surface of the water, she spun, taking in details she hadn’t noticed above. The absolute stillness was disquieting, when usually the water around the rig’s coral- and crustacean-coated legs was teeming with life. The sea turtles and tiny reef fish that always investigated her presence were nowhere to be seen. The only sound was her own breathing as she sucked air from the tank, the only movements the gentle swish of sea anemone and the flurry of bubbles rising from her mouth.

  The flat, washed-out blue she usually found so calming looked dead without the flash of garibaldi dashing between the old oil platform’s maze of support beams like playful orange flames. Usually they’d be swarming, but today…nothing.

  It was Sea Lion Bob’s absence that transformed her sense of general unease into full-blown worry, however. He’d greeted her every time she’d come to check the Polaris platform reef.

  Something was very wrong.

  Get out of here, her instincts screamed, even as her training forced her to relax. A slow inhale, the sound thin under the weight of the water, and a kick up, as languid as she could make it with the panic weighing her limbs down. A long exhale churned the water above, and she added bubbles to the mix by venting enough air to rise slowly.

  Relax. Stay calm.

  Why hadn’t she paid attention to the niggling in her belly as she’d driven her boat toward the platform? It was impossible to pinpoint exactly when the feeling had started or what had set it off, but it was undeniable. Funny how fear changed things. It turned the platform’s shell-encrusted support beams into a phantom forest. The pinks and purples, leached of all color, were the wan gray of death.

  I’ll never come alone again, she promised the Fates or God or the ocean itself.

  As she slowly ascended, her eyes searched feverishly for some clue as to what had turned a busy, dynamic reef into a foggy, blue ghost town.

  Had she missed something on the trip out here?

  She remembered passing the two working platforms closer inland. Nothing strange there. A few miles farther out, just before San Elias Island, she’d spotted the Daphne and drawn her boat up alongside her, as she did nearly every time she came this way. Blushing, of course. Always blushing with that guy.

  “Hey, Eric.”

  Slow as syrup, he had leaned against the rail of his boat, lean body indo
lent-looking, though his face remained serious as always. “Evening, Zoe. Kinda late today, aren’t you?”

  She had shrugged, working hard to keep her gaze above chest level so she wouldn’t stare. What was it about this guy that made her want to eat him up with her eyes? He wasn’t even her usual type, which was dark and intellectual. No, this guy had Paul Newman good looks, with the build of a roughneck. She’d bet anything his hands were as coarse as his voice.

  “Yeah,” she’d managed to shout against the wind. “Been a couple weeks since I checked in on Polaris.”

  “I noticed,” he’d said without the hint of a smile.

  The words—straight, serious, and a touch accusatory—did things to her. Good God, what was wrong with her? Those two innocuous words made her heart race more than anything she’d done with her last boyfriend. Ridiculous, considering that Eric showed no more interest in her than in his fishing pole.

  Besides, she knew absolutely nothing about him.

  “All right.” She reached forward to pull the throttle out, but stopped at his next words.

  “You alone today?”

  “Yeah,” she had to admit. “Jane’s not—”

  “You diving the rig?”

  “Yes.” She had sounded defensive. Weird how that came back to her now, with a hiccup of embarrassment.

  The lines around his mouth tightened, his too-blue eyes narrowed, and he nodded once, quick and short.

  “Careful. Weather headed our way.”

  When his worry warmed her insides instead of sparking a snarky Yes, sir, she’d known she should get out of there. Throwing him a smile and a wave, she’d taken off as fast as she could. Everything about the man said trouble—for her, at least. Oh, he’d always been friendly and respectful, but it was the unspoken stuff that got to her, like the hungry way he eyed her or, much more worrisome, the way that look lit her up inside.