Page 17 of The Cauldronball Run (Outlaw Country #2)

J .J.

J.J. had been driving for three hours since leaving Farrah behind in Arizona, and the partial bond between them was like a rubber band stretched to its breaking point. Every mile eastward made it worse—not painful exactly, but wrong in a way that made his teeth ache.

The CB had been quiet for the last hour, which in an illegal race usually meant bad news. J.J. reached for the radio, needing to hear that someone else was still out there, still racing, still free.

"This is Green Machine calling all teams. Anyone still out there?"

Static for a moment, then Torch's gravelly voice: "We're here, Green Machine About fifty miles behind you. Where's Witchy Woman? Haven't heard her sugar-coating our stupidity in a while."

The question made him sick to his stomach. J.J. gripped the radio harder, his massive fingers making the plastic creak. "She got picked up. Grizz's son arrested her at a gas station outside Flagstaff."

The radio exploded with voices:

"Son of a—"

"Those bastards—"

"Is she okay?"

"She's..." J.J. paused. What could he say? That she was probably in custody somewhere, that she'd told him to abandon her for prize money, that he'd actually done it? "She told me to keep racing. Win the money."

Silence on the channel. The kind of silence that said everything.

Finally, the banshee's otherworldly voice came through, making the speakers whine: "The trolls are also captured."

"Yeah, I heard,” J.J. said. “Did they get anyone else?”

“They got Bondo,” Father Darkness, one of the demon priests, said.

"We overheard radio chatter about Grizz's catches being held at some warehouse in Phoenix," one of the pixies piped up.

Phoenix. The bond pulsed stronger, confirming what J.J. suddenly knew—that's where Farrah was.

"Green Machine, you still with us?" Torch asked.

J.J. stared at the highway ahead. Three hours to Phoenix if he turned around now. Three hours to Farrah. But also, three hours away from New York and the prize money she'd begged him to win.

He loved her.

He loved her laugh. He loved how she'd accepted all of him—the gentle EMT and the dangerous orc, the careful control and the protective rage.

He loved her, and he'd driven away because she'd convinced him money was more important than being together.

Except that wasn't what she'd said, was it? She'd said the money was a tool to save her, to build their future. But what future could they have if he was the kind of mate who abandoned her when things got difficult?

"Green Machine?" Torch's voice again. "You're being awfully quiet."

"I'm turning around," J.J. said, already slowing to find an exit.

"What about the race?"

"Screw the race. Screw the money." His voice dropped to a growl that made the radio crackle. "I'm going to get my mate."

There was a pause, then Torch laughed—a sound like rocks in a blender. "Go get Witchy Woman."

J.J. smiled as he took the exit ramp, tires squealing as he headed for the westbound lane. The racers were still giving each other hell even as their numbers dwindled. This ridiculous, chaotic found family of supernatural misfits had become more important than he'd realized.

"Listen," J.J. said into the radio. "I need to tell you all something. The bond I have with Witchy Woman isn’t complete, but it's real. And every mile I drive away from her feels like betraying everything I am."

"We know," Torch said.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because sometimes a male has to figure out for himself what matters. Money's nice, but it can't keep you warm at night."

"Unless you literally sleep on it," one of the dragons added. "Which is actually quite comfortable if you arrange the bills properly."

"Not the point, brother."

J.J. pressed harder on the accelerator, the ambulance's engine responding perfectly to the increased demand.

"There's something else," J.J. said. "I can feel her through the bond. She's scared, but she's also resigned. Like she expected me to abandon her."

"Then prove her wrong," Father Mayhem, the other demon priest, said. "Some of us never get the chance to prove our love. Don't waste yours."

The speedometer crept past ninety, then one hundred. The New Mexico desert flew by in a blur of red rock and shadow. According to his GPS, Phoenix was still three hours away at legal speeds. But J.J. wasn't planning on driving legal speeds.

"Go get your mate, Green Machine.”

"Good luck teams," J.J. said, meaning it. "May the best supernatural disaster win."

"That'd be us!" both dragons said in unison.

J.J. set the radio down and focused on the road. The bond was pulling him west like a compass finding north, growing stronger with every mile. He could feel Farrah more clearly now—frustrated, worried, but underneath it all, a sadness that made his chest ache.

She thought he'd chosen money over her. Thought he was just another man who'd disappoint her when it mattered.

He was going to prove her wrong if he had to tear apart every warehouse in Phoenix to do it.

I'm coming, Farrah. I'm choosing you.

***

F ARRAH

Storage Facility - Phoenix, Arizona

The warehouse smelled like metal and demon frost—an odd combination in the Arizona desert. Two frost demon mercenaries stood guard at the main entrance, looking supremely bored with their assignment.

"Daddy had to rent this place," Smokie had explained. "The Arizona cops told him they didn't have time for what they called 'this interstate nonsense.' He was real mad about that."

The warehouse was exactly the kind of place you'd expect someone to rent when legitimate authorities wouldn't cooperate with your vigilante justice campaign.

Corrugated metal walls that turned the interior into an oven during the day and a freezer at night, concrete floors with suspicious stains, and lighting that flickered like a horror movie setup.

Farrah tested the chain that Smokie had connected to her handcuffs. She was secured to a metal bench. At least she could sit down. The trolls were shackled to a beam in the ceiling.

"Excuse me," she called to one of the frost demon mercenaries. "I need to use the bathroom."

The demon didn't even look up from his phone. "Hold it."

"I'm human. That's not how our biology works."

"Not my problem, witch."

The second demon laughed, a sound like ice cracking. "Boss said keep them contained until he gets here. Didn't say nothing about comfort."

"Now, that's not very nice," Smokie said, appearing with Mr. Snuggles tucked under his arm. "Daddy always says we should treat prisoners with basic human dignity." He turned to Farrah. "How are you doing?"

"I’m chained to a bench in a warehouse, so not great. I also have to pee.”

"She's a witch, not a human," the first demon grumbled.

"She's still a lady, and ladies need bathroom breaks." Smokie walked over to Farrah with a small key. "Mr. Snuggles says it's been three hours, and that's medically inadvisable."

"And legally questionable."

"Mr. Snuggles thinks so too," Smokie whispered, then louder: "But Daddy knows what he's doing. He's been sheriffing for thirty years."

"In my experience with international law enforcement—" Bondo called from his corner, where he'd draped himself dramatically despite being chained.

"You don't have experience with international law enforcement," everyone said in unison.

"I've seen all the James Bond films. That's basically the same thing."

After Smoke unclipped her, he escorted her to the makeshift bathroom. It was just a port-a-potty that had seen better decades.

"Where's your father, anyway? I thought he'd be here gloating."

"Oh, he's still chasing your orc boyfriend," Smokie said. "Set up roadblocks from here to New York, but that ambulance just disappeared. Daddy thinks J.J.'s using orc magic to turn invisible."

"Orcs don’t have magic."

"Try telling Daddy that. He's convinced those ‘green sumbitches’—‘scuse me ma’am—can do anything." Smokie positioned Mr. Snuggles to guard the bathroom door. "Take your time. Mr. Snuggles will make sure nobody bothers you."

Inside the port-a-potty, which was somehow worse than she'd imagined, Farrah let herself feel the full weight of her situation.

She missed J.J. The admission hurt more than the uncomfortable accommodations or the uncertainty of her situation.

She missed his careful strength, his ridiculous protectiveness, the way he looked at her like she was precious.

She'd sent him away, told him to choose money over her, and he'd actually done it.

Just like Derek would have.

The thought made her stomach twist. Her ex-husband would have absolutely chosen financial gain over her wellbeing. Hell, he'd done it repeatedly during their marriage. And now J.J. was out there, racing toward New York and a prize while she sat in a warehouse.

Maybe she'd misjudged him. Maybe the bond had made her see what she wanted instead of what was real.

"Miss Farrah?" Smokie called from outside. "You okay?"

"Fine," she lied. "Just tired."

She had no right to be mad at J.J. Sending him away had been her idea, after all.

After she was done, Smokie led her back to her area, but didn’t handcuff her again. "Mr. Snuggles says I should let you go. He thinks Daddy is wrong."

"What do you think?” Farrah sat down on a metal bench.

"I think..." Smokie held the teddy bear up to his ear, nodding at whatever advice he was receiving. "I think you really love the orc."

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Zeus’s hairy balls, she did love J.J. It had been less than a week. It didn’t make any sense. A few hours together, soul-rocking sex, and a partial bond, and yet it was love.

"I do.” Farrah nodded.

Smokie frowned. “Daddy says it’s unnatural for a human and an orc to be together.”

Farrah tamped down on a wave of anger because it was obvious that Smokie didn’t share his father’s ignorant views. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said.

“Do you love Mr. Snuggles?"

"Of course I do. He's my husband."

"And when people tell you that's weird or wrong or impossible, how does that make you feel?"

Smokie's face crumpled slightly. "It makes me feel bad. Like there's something wrong with me for loving him."

"But there's nothing wrong with you. Love is love, whether it's between a deputy and his teddy bear, or a witch and an orc, or any other combination that makes people happy.

" Farrah leaned forward, making her voice gentle.

"Your father sees the world in very black and white terms. Good guys and bad guys, normal and abnormal.

But real life is more complicated than that. "

"Mr. Snuggles says the same thing." Smokie clutched the bear tighter. "He says love doesn't have to make sense to other people as long as it makes sense to the people involved."

"He's absolutely right."

"Can I ask you something now?"

"Of course."

"Daddy says orcs are dangerous."

"J.J. is dangerous," Farrah said honestly. "He's seven feet tall, stronger than any human, and when his protective instincts kick in, he could tear apart a car with his bare hands."

Smokie's eyes went wide.

"But," Farrah continued, "he's also the gentlest person I've ever known. He spends his days saving lives as an EMT. He rebuilds engines and treats them like works of art."

"That doesn't sound very monstrous."

"The world sees his size and his tusks and his green skin, and they see a monster. But I see someone who works hard to pay off the debt from trying to better himself. Someone who makes me feel safer and more cherished than I ever thought possible."

"Even though he left you here and continued the race?"

Farrah was quiet for a moment. "I told him to go. Told him the money was more important."

"But you didn't mean it?"

"I thought I did. I thought..." She sighed. "I thought if he won the money, it would solve our problems. But the real problem isn't debt. It's that I'm terrified of trusting someone again after my ex-husband destroyed me."

"What did he do?"

"Convinced me I was worthless. That I was lucky he tolerated my magic, my job, my existence. By the time he left, I believed him. Then I met J.J., and he made me feel valuable again. But when he actually drove away..."

"You thought he was like your ex?"

"Maybe." The admission hurt. "Or maybe I pushed him away before he could hurt me worse."

Smokie held Mr. Snuggles up to his ear, nodding at whatever wisdom the bear was sharing. "Mr. Snuggles says love requires trust. And trust requires faith that the other person will choose you, even when it's hard."

"Mr. Snuggles is very wise."

"He also says your orc is probably miserable right now."

Farrah laughed, though it was watery. "How would Mr. Snuggles know that?"

"Because Mr. Snuggles knows that real love hurts when you're apart. And if the orc really loves you, he's suffering just as much as you are."

She wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe J.J. was out there missing her, maybe even turning around to come back. But that was fairy tale thinking, and she'd learned the hard way that fairy tales weren't real.