Bounty Hunter (The Rover 1)

“Not yet.” He kissed my knuckles. “But I’m always on the lookout for the amazing woman who will stand by my side.”

I just bet you are.

“Oh, how romantic.” I punctuated my statement with a flirty giggle.

Holy fucking hell, someone put me out of my misery.

My hand was still trapped in one of his, and I let him hold it even though the awful feeling that was drowning me only got worse.

“Do you feel up for another dance?” he asked, his thumb grazing my knuckles back and forth in a caress.

Someone came by to swipe the glass I really wished I could down in one gulp. Esteban led me out onto the floor as a new song started.

His arms encircled me, and I resisted the urge to gag and shove my fist into his perfect nose.

I let him take the lead. One of these days, I would find a man who would allow me to lead. And then I would marry him.

With my face practically pressed into his wide chest, I noticed his cologne for the first time. Something smoky with a woodsy note. Not altogether unpleasant. It made me hate him a little more.

“Do you think I’ve scared your date away?” he whispered, his lips entirely too close to the sensitive flesh of my earlobes. My skin crawled and I suppressed the shudder that rose in me.

I scanned the crowd and caught sight of Fin watching us, standing near a group of people admiring a framed artwork on the wall. He fit right in here.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Fin said in my ear.

I extended my middle finger behind Esteban’s shoulder and caught the grin it earned me on Fin’s face. Not very ladylike, but the reprieve helped ground me back to the part I played.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s found another young lady to drape on his arm. Honestly, I think all I am to him is an accessory.” I put the real contempt I felt at the role in my voice. Let Mr. Suave bat one back.

Esteban’s full lips spread wide in a grin. “Do you have an occupation, Sydney?”

Subtle.

“I curate art at a paranormal gallery in the city.”

Something lit his eyes at the word paranormal. “How fascinating. Is it something you enjoy? Were you always a purveyor of the arts?”

I gave him a coy smile. “Since I was a little girl. My father introduced me to art, so I’ve always loved it.”

A truth mixed into a lie.

It was easy to force away the memory of my father showing me his art collection while I hunted his killer. Was the Black Mage Esteban? How could it be? He appeared maybe the same age as Fin, late twenties, early thirties at the oldest. But I couldn’t walk away from him, not with my mind on fire with illicit magic. Magic I needed to stop.

“Why paranormal art?” he asked.

I pasted the smile back on my mouth. “Oh, I don’t know. As a human and magic-less, the paranormal had always fascinated me. It’s incredible.”

There. Let him think me a groupie. It might work as long as I didn’t end up some kind of ritual sacrifice.

“Have you ever met a paranormal creature before?”

Interesting. A fine line to walk here. The upper elite human set considered paranormal beings beneath them. If I said yes, he might think I wasn’t in the same class as him. If I said no, well, that made me

a hypocrite, didn’t it? I rattled my brain and let my gut lead my answer.

“Only a few times. I have a staff who deals with the artists when they bring in new work, but occasionally there are those whose work I enjoy so much I choose to meet with them.”

There. Rich people loved making exceptions for eccentricity. Case in point: Fin hiring me.