Page 4

B ullseye

Bullseye picked up his CB radio. "Breaker one-nine, this is Bullseye checking in with Snowman. You copy?"

"Roger that. Just topping off the tank, then I'll scout ahead and see what kind of heat we're dealing with," Bullseye replied, watching the fuel gauge creep toward full. The truck stop's magical pumps were slower than regular gas, but the enhanced fuel was worth it for the extra performance.

He was pulling away from the pump when something white and frothy exploded out of the Enchanted Events wedding venue across the street. A woman in what appeared to be a wedding dress was running directly toward him.

"Well, I'll be damned. Is that a runaway bride?" Bullseye drawled, easing off the gas to get a better look. "And here I thought this was gonna be a boring Tuesday."

The woman—witch, his enhanced senses told him immediately—didn't slow down.

She vaulted onto the Trans Am's hood while he was still rolling slowly through the parking lot, her boots finding purchase on the paint job he'd spent three weeks perfecting.

Her bridal veil caught in the wind, flowing around her like white silk magic.

Through the windshield, he found himself staring into the most gorgeous pair of green eyes he'd ever seen.

They were the color of deep forest magic, flecked with gold that seemed to swirl and dance.

The moment their gazes met, something fundamental shifted in Bullseye's chest—like getting sucker-punched by destiny itself.

Son of a bitch. His minotaur heritage kicked into high gear, flooding his system with protective instincts that made his hands tighten on the steering wheel. This wasn't just some random witch having a bad day. This was his witch, and every cell in his body knew it.

"Uh, little help here?" she called out, her voice slightly breathless. A small green frog sat on her shoulder, looking about as thrilled with the situation as a cat in a dog show.

The sound of her voice sent heat racing through his veins. Even through the windshield, he could catch her scent—wildflowers and magic and something that made his minotaur side sit up and take notice in a big way.

Sheriff Lawman had spotted them, his eyes locking onto Hazel before shifting to Bullseye. The bear's expression went from furious to confused, and Bullseye realized the sheriff could probably smell the mating bond forming between them.

"You there!" the sheriff's voice carried across the parking lot like a foghorn. "In the black Trans Am! You're interfering with official police business!"

"Interfering?" Bullseye called back, though he was more focused on the way Hazel's magic was reaching toward his like iron filings to a magnet. "Hell, Sheriff, she jumped on my car!"

"I prefer 'strategically relocated,'" Hazel said, sliding down from the hood and yanking open the passenger door.

Her veil caught on the door frame, and she tugged it free with the impatience of a woman who'd had enough of wedding nonsense for one day.

"And you really should get us out of here.

He'll arrest you for breathing wrong and then charge you extra for the privilege. "

The moment she slid into his passenger seat, Bullseye's world shifted into sharp focus.

Her scent hit him full force—that intoxicating blend that made his mouth water and his minotaur side rumble with satisfaction.

The mating bond snapped into place like a perfectly timed gear shift, and suddenly he could feel her emotions mixing with his own.

She was scared, determined, and running from something. His mate needed protection. Game over.

His CB radio crackled to life. "Breaker, Bullseye, this is Snowman. Just heard some chatter about a disturbance near your location. You got yourself a situation there, good buddy?"

"That's a big 10-4, Snowman," Bullseye replied, his voice steady despite the fact that his entire life had just changed. "Got myself a runaway bride and what looks like half the county's finest wanting to discuss it with me. You just keep that ice wagon rolling toward our appointment."

"Roger that. I'm making good time on the interstate. You watch your six out there."

Sheriff Lawman was charging across the parking lot now, other deputies streaming out of the venue behind him. Some looked like they'd been through a blender, and one poor bastard was missing his pants entirely, but they were all armed and motivated.

"Oh, this is just perfect," the frog muttered from Hazel's shoulder. "From wedding disasters to being accessories to... whatever this is. What's next, joining the supernatural circus?"

"We're not accessories to anything," Bullseye protested, though his attention was split between the approaching law enforcement and the way Hazel's presence was making his body hum like a finely tuned engine.

"Then why are you talking in code on that radio?

" Hazel asked, her magic-enhanced senses apparently picking up on more than he'd like.

She gathered her veil in her lap, the white silk contrasting sharply with her determined expression.

"Bullseye? Snowman? That's either the world's most elaborate fantasy football league or you're running some kind of operation. "

"That's... complicated."

"Oh good, complicated. My favorite kind of criminal activity," the frog muttered. "Right up there with 'slightly illegal' and 'probably not fatal.'"

Bullseye looked at Hazel—his mate, his destiny, the woman who'd literally dropped into his life at the exact moment he needed her—then at the approaching wall of angry law enforcement.

"Drive," she said urgently, those green eyes meeting his with an intensity that made his chest tight. "Please. I'll explain everything, I promise."

"Sugar," Bullseye said, flashing her the kind of grin that had charmed his way out of trouble in four states, "you don't need to ask twice."

He grabbed his CB radio. "Snowman, change of plans. I'm about to get real busy playing tag with the local law. You stick to our schedule and don't worry about me."

"10-4, Bullseye. Try not to get yourself thrown in the pokey before the real fun starts."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Bullseye drawled, then slammed the Trans Am into gear.

The car shot forward like a rocket, leaving nothing but rubber and attitude in their wake. In the rearview mirror, he watched Sheriff Lawman make a desperate lunge for his trunk and miss by a country mile. The bear's roar of frustration followed them down the street.

Sirens wailed behind them as Sheriff Lawman's cruiser joined the chase, followed by what looked like half the supernatural police force in three counties.

"So," Bullseye said, glancing at the pursuit in his rearview mirror while trying not to get distracted by the way Hazel's magic kept calling to his, "anyone want to explain why we're suddenly public enemy number one?

Because that bear doesn't seem to know who I am, but he's sure acting like I just robbed Fort Knox. "

"It's not my fault," Hazel said quickly. "I was trying to escape my own wedding when Hopper's spell went a little... overboard."

"A little?" the frog—Hopper—snorted. "I summoned every frog in a five-mile radius. The venue looked like the plague of Egypt, but with more croaking."

"You were supposed to marry Sheriff Lawman?" Bullseye asked, something that felt suspiciously like jealousy clawing at his chest despite the obvious impossibility.

"His son," Hazel corrected. "Smokie. And before you ask, yes, that's his real name. No, I don't know why. And yes, he really does sleep with a teddy bear."

Relief flooded through him so fast it was embarrassing. "So you're not married."

"Nope. Still single and apparently on the run from the law." She glanced at him sideways, her veil catching the afternoon light. "Speaking of which, it's not every day you see a minotaur driving a Trans Am like he was born to it. Mind telling me why you're so comfortable with high-speed chases?"

"Let's just say I'm in the transportation business," Bullseye replied, taking another sharp turn that made the tires sing. "Specialized cargo, time-sensitive deliveries, that sort of thing."

"Transportation," Hazel repeated, her magic-enhanced senses clearly picking up on what he wasn't saying.

"Right. So you're either a very dedicated pizza delivery guy, or.

.." Her eyes widened as realization hit.

"Oh. Oh no. You're one of those supernatural smugglers, aren't you?

The ones who haul contraband across state lines for ridiculous amounts of money? "

"I prefer 'independent contractor,'" Bullseye said, though his heart wasn't really in the deflection. Hard to maintain professional distance when you'd just met your destined mate.

"Right," Hazel said, looking between him and the CB radio. "Independent contractor with a friend named Snowman and matching handles."

"This is not happening," Hopper groaned. "We went from bad life choices to worse life choices in under five minutes. That has to be some kind of record. And now we're apparently part of some cross-country smuggling operation."

More sirens joined the chorus behind them.

Through the rearview mirror, Bullseye could see Sheriff Lawman's cruiser gaining ground, smoke literally pouring from his exhaust pipes.

The bear was running hot, which meant he was beyond angry and well into "collateral damage is just part of the job" territory.

"Okay, new plan," Hazel said, turning in her seat to face him. Her veil shifted around her shoulders like liquid silk. "How fast can this thing go?"

"Fast enough," Bullseye replied, downshifting for another turn. "Why?"

"Because I've got an idea. But it's going to require some trust."

"Trust?" Bullseye glanced at her, struck again by how right she felt beside him, how perfectly her magic harmonized with his. "Darlin', I don't even know your last name."

"It's Thornfield. And yours is Maverick, according to the very angry bear trying to ram us off the road."

"How do you—never mind. What's your idea?"

Hazel's grin was equal parts mischief and magic, her veil fluttering as she moved. "How do you feel about a little automotive enchantment?"

"I feel like that's either going to save our hides or get us all killed," Bullseye said, though he was already grinning back. Something about this woman made him want to throw caution to the wind and see what happened.

"Those aren't mutually exclusive," Hopper pointed out.

Bullseye looked at Hazel—really looked at her.

Her magic was still making the air shimmer, but there was something else there too.

Competence. Intelligence. And a kind of reckless courage that called to every wild instinct he possessed.

The bridal veil made her look like some kind of warrior bride, ready for whatever came next.

"Do it," he said.

Hazel's smile could have powered Vegas. "Hold onto something. This is about to get real interesting."

She placed her hands on the dashboard, whispered something in what sounded like very old Celtic, and suddenly the Trans Am wasn't just fast.

It was flying.

"I hate my life," Hopper shrieked as they soared over a truck stop, leaving Sheriff Lawman's ground-bound pursuit eating their dust.

"Really?" Hazel asked, peering down at the rapidly shrinking landscape below them, her veil streaming behind them like a victory banner. "Because I'm starting to think this might be the best day I've had in years."

Bullseye grinned as they sailed through the desert sky, Snowman safely en route to Los Angeles, a beautiful witch in his passenger seat wearing a bridal veil and pure attitude, and the open sky ahead of them.

His CB radio crackled with distant trucker chatter, but all he could focus on was the woman beside him and the way the mating bond hummed between them like a perfectly tuned engine.

He'd started the day planning a simple interference run. Now he was flying through the Arizona sky with his destined mate, and somehow that felt like the most natural thing in the world.