Page 9

"Come on," he murmured. "We should go while Sage has them distracted."

He was right. As entertaining as it was to watch Sage verbally spar with Sheriff Lawman, they needed to get back on the road. Snowman was making good time toward their rendezvous point, and they couldn't afford to fall too far behind their thirty-six hour deadline.

"Back exit?" she whispered.

"Back exit."

They stood up slowly, trying to look casual, but Sheriff Lawman's attention snapped back to them immediately.

"Oh no, you don't." He started toward them again, but this time the truck stop's protections activated in earnest.

The floor beneath his feet turned slippery as ice, sending him sliding into the federal agent. The werewolves' table suddenly sprouted legs and scuttled out of the way. The centaur's chair grew roots and anchored itself to the floor. Even the pie in Hazel's abandoned plate began to glow ominously.

"Run," Sage called out cheerfully. "I'll hold them off."

Bullseye grabbed Hazel's hand and they bolted for the back exit, dodging sliding law enforcement officers and animated furniture. Behind them, Sage was laughing with pure delight as her truck stop's defenses turned the simple arrest attempt into supernatural slapstick.

They burst through the back door into the cool desert night and didn't stop running until they reached the Trans Am. Bullseye had the engine started before Hazel even got her door closed.

"That," she panted, "was amazing."

"That was terrifying," Bullseye corrected, but he was grinning as he peeled out of the parking lot. "Sage is absolutely insane."

"Completely. Isn't she wonderful?"

"Wonderful is one word for it," Hopper muttered. "Completely unhinged is another. Though I have to admit, watching that bear slip around on enchanted ice was pretty satisfying."

They were back on the open road, the truck stop's neon glow shrinking in the rearview mirror, before either of them spoke again.

"So," Hazel said finally, "Mike Stevens?"

"It was the first thing that came to mind," Bullseye replied sheepishly. "What about Hannah the nature photographer?"

"Hey, I actually do know something about wildflower photography. I took a class once." She paused. "We made a pretty good team back there."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "We did."

The CB radio crackled to life. "Breaker one-nine, this is Moondog calling Bullseye. You copy, good buddy?"

Bullseye grabbed the radio. "Go ahead, Moondog."

"Just wanted to give you a heads up—that Smokey bear is madder than a wet cat. Word is, he's calling in every favor he's got to track you down. You might want to find yourself a real good hiding spot."

"Roger that, Moondog. Much obliged."

"No problem. Oh, and Bullseye? That little lady of yours sure knows how to make an exit. Half the county's still talking about the frog show."

Hazel felt heat rise in her cheeks. "Little lady?"

"You're famous," Bullseye said with amusement. "The mysterious runaway bride who turned a wedding into a supernatural circus."

"Great. Just what I always wanted—to be known for magical property damage."

"Could be worse," Hopper pointed out. "You could be known for marrying Smokie and his teddy bear. At least magical property damage has some style to it."

The CB radio crackled again, this time with a familiar voice. "Breaker one-nine, this is Snowman calling Bullseye. Do you copy?"

"Go ahead, Snowman," Bullseye replied.

"Just wanted to update you on my status. I'm making good time on I-40, should hit our delivery point right on schedule. How's your situation?"

"Complicated," Bullseye replied. "Had a close call with local law enforcement, but we're mobile again."

"Copy that. You might want to know, there's been some chatter on the trucker channels about increased checkpoint activity. Smokies are setting up roadblocks on the major highways, looking for a black Trans Am."

"Any suggestions for alternate routes?"

"Plenty of back roads between here and there, but they'll add time to your journey. Might be worth it though, if it keeps you out of custody."

"Roger. Thanks for the heads up."

"No problem, good buddy. Oh, and Bullseye? The word's getting out about your cargo. Might want to keep an eye out for interested parties who aren't wearing badges."

"What kind of interested parties?"

"The kind that don't ask politely before they take what they want."

The radio went silent, leaving them alone with the implications of that warning.

"Other smugglers," Hazel said quietly.

"Or worse," Bullseye replied grimly. "Enhancement potions are valuable enough to attract some very dangerous attention."

"Great," Hopper muttered. "As if dodging the law wasn't exciting enough. Now we get to worry about supernatural pirates too."

They drove in silence for a while, the desert landscape rolling past outside the windows in the moonlight. Finally, Hazel couldn't stand the tension anymore.

"Back there," she said, "when you stood up to Sheriff Lawman..."

"Yeah?"

"That was... that was really something." She turned in her seat to face him. "You didn't have to do that. You could have let him arrest me and walked away clean."

"No," Bullseye said quietly, "I couldn't have."

"Why not?"

He was quiet for so long that she thought he wasn't going to answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. "Because somewhere between this morning and right now, walking away from you stopped being an option."

The words hung in the air between them, charged with possibility and danger in equal measure.

"Bullseye..."

"I know it's crazy," he continued. "I know we barely know each other, and I know I'm probably the last guy you should get involved with. But Hazel, when I'm with you, everything makes sense in a way it never has before."

Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that this morning I was just a guy with a job to do. And now..." He glanced at her, his dark eyes intense. "Now I'm a guy who would fight Sheriff Lawman bare-handed if it meant keeping you safe."

"That's very romantic," Hopper observed dryly. "Also slightly unhinged. But mostly romantic."

The Trans Am ate up the miles while Hazel tried to process what Bullseye had just told her. Part of her wanted to be sensible, to remind him that they were from different worlds and this was just adrenaline and proximity talking.

But a bigger part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind and see where this dangerous attraction might lead.

"For the record," she said finally, "you're not the last guy I should get involved with. That honor belongs to Smokie Lawman and his teddy bear."

Bullseye's laugh was warm and rich. "I'm honored to place second."

"Actually," Hazel said, surprising herself with her boldness, "I think you might have moved up to first place."

The look he gave her was so hot it should have melted the windshield. "Hazel..."

"I know it's crazy too," she said quickly, before she could lose her nerve. "But you're right—when I'm with you, everything feels different. Better. Like maybe I've been sleepwalking through my life and this is the first time I've really been awake."

"Oh no," Hopper groaned. "She's getting that dreamy look again. The same one she had right before she dated the vampire with the commitment issues."

They stared at each other for a long moment, the air between them practically crackling with electricity. Then Bullseye's gaze dropped to her mouth, and Hazel felt her breath catch.

"Pull over," she whispered.

"What?"

"Pull over. Right now."

He didn't ask questions. He just pulled the Trans Am off the highway onto a dusty side road that disappeared into the desert, drove until they were hidden behind a cluster of rocks, and turned off the engine.

The sudden silence was deafening.

"This is a terrible idea," Hopper announced. "Just putting that out there. Terrible, terrible idea."

"Hazel," Bullseye said, his voice rough with want, "if we do this—"

She silenced him by leaning across the center console and kissing him.

The kiss was electric, literally. Sparks danced between them as their mouths met, her magic responding to his touch with shocking intensity.

He tasted like coffee and danger and something purely male that made her want to climb into his lap and never let go.

His hand tangled in her hair while the other pulled her closer, and she could feel the rumble of satisfaction in his chest when she kissed him back with equal hunger.

Her magic was spiraling out of control, sparks of light dancing around them in the confines of the car. She wanted more—wanted to feel his hands on her skin, wanted to lose herself in the heat building between them.

When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard, and her lips felt swollen.

"That was..." Bullseye started.

"Magical," Hazel finished. "Literally magical. I've never had that happen before."

"Me neither." His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "Your eyes are glowing."

"Are they?" She could feel her magic humming just beneath her skin, responding to his proximity in ways that should have been impossible. "It's you. You do something to my magic. I don't understand it."

"I don't understand it either," he admitted. "But I don't want it to stop."

"Well, that was nauseating," Hopper declared. "But also kind of sweet. In a 'magical fireworks display' sort of way."

Neither did she. But before she could tell him that, his CB radio crackled to life again.

"Breaker one-nine, this is Stardust calling all units. Got myself a situation here. Black SUVs, no plates, moving fast on Highway 191. They're asking questions about a black Trans Am and they ain't being polite about it."

Bullseye grabbed the radio instantly. "Stardust, this is Bullseye. What kind of questions?"

"The kind backed up by guns and bad attitudes. These boys ain't law enforcement, that's for sure. They're looking for someone real specific, and they seem to think intimidation is a valid interview technique."

Another voice chimed in: "This is Moondog. I got eyes on those same SUVs. They just rolled through the Cactus Flats weigh station, and they left some unhappy truckers in their wake."

"Copy that, Moondog. Any description on the occupants?"

"Witches, from what I could tell. Had that whole 'earth mother meets righteous fury' vibe going. One of them kept muttering about 'stopping the shipment at all costs.'"

Hazel felt a chill run down her spine. "Witches?" she whispered. "Why would witches be after your cargo?"

"What?" Bullseye looked at her sharply, but his expression was guarded.

"If it's just enhancement potions, why would other witches want to stop the delivery?"

Bullseye's jaw tightened. "Maybe they're competitors. Or maybe they think there's more money in it for them."

But Hazel could tell he was holding something back. The way his hands gripped the steering wheel, the tension in his shoulders—whatever they were really carrying was more significant than he'd let on.

"This just keeps getting better," Hopper muttered. "First the law, now angry witches. What's next, a vampire biker gang?"

The CB crackled again. "Bullseye, this is Snowman. You need to copy this transmission, good buddy."

"Go ahead, Snowman."

"I just had a very interesting conversation with some witches at my last fuel stop.

They seemed real curious about my cargo manifest, and when I declined to share that information, they made some threats.

" Snowman's voice was tight with anger. "These ladies were serious business though—organized, determined.

But it takes more than angry spellcasters to stop an experienced hauler.

Still, they're not the only ones looking.

Word is, there's at least three different groups trying to track down our shipment. "

"Three groups?"

"Law enforcement, angry witches, and some folks nobody seems to want to identify. This job just got more complicated."

Bullseye and Hazel exchanged glances. Their romantic moment had been thoroughly shattered by the reality of their situation.

"What do we do?" she asked quietly.

"We stick to the plan," Bullseye replied, but his voice was tense. "Snowman makes the delivery, we provide interference. But now we're not just running from Sheriff Lawman anymore."

"How much more dangerous could it get?"

"Famous last words," Hopper pointed out. "Right up there with 'what could possibly go wrong' and 'it's probably nothing.'"

As if in answer to her question, the sound of engines echoed across the desert—multiple vehicles, moving fast, and getting closer.

"I think," Bullseye said grimly, starting the Trans Am, "we're about to find out."