Page 10 of The Cauldronball Run (Outlaw Country #2)

"Poor thing," Farrah said. Her voice carried just a hint of something—not quite magic, but close enough that the trooper's attention seemed to slide right past the mannequin's obviously artificial arm hanging from beneath the blanket.

" She's been through hell. The vocal cord damage happened during a particularly intense wail.

The trauma to her system has been severe. "

The trooper peered into the ambulance but kept his distance, clearly not eager to get close to a potentially dangerous supernatural patient.

Whatever Farrah was doing, it was working.

The cop's natural investigative instincts were being gently redirected toward self-preservation "Banshee, huh? Can't say I've ever seen one before."

"Most people haven't," J.J. said. "They're rare, and they usually keep to themselves. Most humans never encounter them until it's too late."

Farrah checked the fake monitors, making notes on a clipboard with the kind of professional competence that made J.J.

want to do things to her that were definitely inappropriate during a traffic stop.

Another barely-there pulse of magic, and the trooper's gaze seemed to catch on her credentials clipped to the clipboard rather than the obviously fake readouts on the monitors.

"Her heart rate's still elevated, but that's normal for her species during transport stress.

We really should get moving, officer. Every hour matters with this kind of vocal cord injury. "

The trooper studied their setup for another moment, clearly trying to decide whether to dig deeper or get away from the potentially lethal patient. Professional curiosity warred with self-preservation, and self-preservation won.

"All right, folks. Drive safe, and maybe keep it closer to seventy. I know it's an emergency, but the speed limit's still the speed limit."

"Absolutely, officer," J.J. said, relief flooding through him so fast he felt dizzy. "We appreciate your understanding."

As the trooper walked back to his car, shaking his head at the weird stuff he had to deal with, J.J. felt Farrah's hand land on his arm again. This time it stayed there, steady through his uniform sleeve, and he could feel her pulse racing against his skin.

"We did it," she breathed, and her voice was bright with exhilaration and disbelief. "Holy shit, we actually did it."

Her excitement was intoxicating, making her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. She looked alive in a way that made his mouth go dry and his hands itch to touch her. The adrenaline rush of successfully lying to law enforcement was apparently a powerful aphrodisiac.

She's never looked more beautiful than she does right now, high on successfully committing fraud.

The trooper gave them a polite wave as they pulled back onto the highway, completely unaware that he'd just been part of the most elaborate con game of his career.

Because he couldn’t help himself, he leaned in and kissed her.

He expected her to flinch a little.

He hadn’t expected her to sigh and wiggle closer.

When her tongue grazed along his, he knew it was the start of something special.

"Green Machine, you are clear for northbound I-80," Bondo's voice over the radio, interrupted them. "Secret Agent reporting all clear from surveillance position. My advanced reconnaissance indicates no further law enforcement presence in the immediate area."

They jumped apart.

“That was nice,” she said, her eyes glazed.

He wanted to push the mannequin off the gurney and lay Farrah down on it and lick every inch of her. But they needed to get back on the road and make up for lost time.

“You were amazing back there.”

“The kiss?” she asked, touching her lips.

“That too. I meant with the cop.”

“Right,” she said, ducking her head. “We should get going.”

“Yeah,” he said reluctantly.

"Copy that, Secret Agent," Farrah said into the mike and J.J. could hear the smile in her voice. "Green Machine is back in the race."

As they settled back into highway driving, J.J. grinned like an idiot. "You could have thrown me under the bus back there. Told the cop that I'd tricked you into this."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because it would have gotten you off easier if we'd been caught. Innocent dupe versus willing accomplice."

"I said I was in, and I meant it," Farrah said, her voice firm with conviction. "Even if we crash and burn spectacularly."

J.J. winced. "Maybe don't use metaphors involving crashes while we're driving at illegal speeds."

"You know what I mean."

The radio crackled again with a transmission that sounded like it was coming from inside a cement mixer. "This is... zzzt... Twin One... zzzt... situation up ahead."

"Go ahead, Sparkle Twin," Farrah said.

"The troll truck is stuck under an overpass," came a clearer reply. "They're blocking the right lane and attracting all kinds of attention. Local news crew just showed up. Suggest an alternate route through Cedar Rapids."

"Copy that. How stuck are we talking?"

"Stuck enough that Troll Two is outside pushing while Troll One guns the engine. They've been at it for fifteen minutes. There's now a betting pool among the construction crew about whether they'll get free or just push the overpass down."

"Cedar Rapids adds an hour to our time," Farrah said, checking her phone's GPS.

"Waiting for the trolls to clear the road could add more than that." J.J. took the exit toward Cedar Rapids.

The afternoon sun streamed through the windshield and created an intimate cocoon inside the ambulance cab.

J.J. was hyperaware of Farrah's every movement—the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the rhythm of her breathing, the scent of her shampoo.

He could still taste her tongue and feel her mouth on his, and he wanted more.

When she leaned forward to adjust the air conditioning, her shoulder brushed his arm, and he had to grip the steering wheel tighter to keep his hands steady. The brief contact sent heat racing through him, and he wondered if she had any idea what her casual touches were doing to him.

It's been way too long since anyone sat this close to me by choice.

"J.J.?" Farrah's voice was hesitant.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For trusting me enough to tell me the truth."

You're incredible, and brilliant, and I'm already half in love with you after six hours.

Instead of saying that, though, he settled for, "You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re here with me."

Over the radio, tinny laughter interrupted them. "This is Sparkle Twin One with an update. Troll truck's still wedged under the overpass. Someone just set up a popcorn stand."

Farrah blinked at the dash. "Popcorn?"

"They're stuck solid. Local news van's here. Crowd's chanting, 'Push it. Push it.'"

Farrah covered her mouth, half laughing. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Trust me," J.J. said. "If trolls are involved, it always turns into a spectacle."

A few moments later, Sparkle Twin Two came on the CB. "We're still stuck behind the trolls. The tow truck gave up. Now there's a karaoke machine and funnel cakes. One of the trolls is belting Salt-N-Pepa's 'Push It' while the other honks backup on the horn. Traffic's at a standstill."

Farrah just stared at J.J. "Is this normal?"

"I’m not sure I’d know normal anymore if it came up and bit me in the ass.”