decided she’d toyed with us enough and moved on. As always, I’d wait at least thirty minutes, keeping an eye on my watch to make sure I didn’t emerge early, before I left the safety of the shelter. Mother Nature was a tricky bitch, and she liked adding lulls to her storms to lure out the unwitting.
She killed a lot of people that way, and I had no intentions of becoming the next victim in her little black book of corpses.
I spent the time checking the storage boxes and doing an inventory so I wouldn’t indulge in staring at the bounty hunter’s hot ass. He liked to pace, and every time something crashed overhead and made the cellar shake, his hand either went for the hilt of the sword hanging at his hip or reached for something over his shoulder. The shoulder habit baffled me.
What kind of weapon did he use that he strapped it to his back?
I wanted to know.
I blamed my second nature for my unhealthy interest in the man. Like cats, foxes were curious beasts, and I shifted often enough my animalistic nature brushed off at times. Winter was the worst; natural foxes had aggressive breeding instincts, and I’d learned early I needed to avoid shifting during peak mating season, as men became far too interesting for my sanity.
Some fox shifters went mad during the winter unless married—and married fox shifters were happy, insatiable fox shifters during the coldest months of the year.
“You’re well stocked for a vagrant.”
I flattened my ears. “Well, no thanks to you, I’ll have to ditch this cellar.”
“I’ll cut you another deal, then. I’ll stay hushed about your cellar, but if we happen to be in these parts during another blow, you share. If you’re in here, you won’t be a fair target, and I’ll always give you five minutes after the storm ends. That fair?”
My brows rose. “What sort of bounty hunter are you?”
“An ethical one.”
I pinched myself. It hurt. I dug out the temperature monitor from one of the crates, which also had a carbon dioxide monitor. After checking the battery, I turned it on. According to the device, the carbon dioxide levels were higher than I liked, an indication the ventilation tubes above had gotten blocked off. I could fix it, given time and the snake drill I’d scored as salvage last storm season.
Eliminating a dream or hallucination, I turned off the detector, put it away, and considered the bounty hunter. “Since when have there been ethical bounty hunters?”
“Since I decided to become a bounty hunter.”
Why did hot men always have overly robust egos? I’d have my chance to pop his bubble soon enough. I just had to play along until it was time for me to make my break. “All right. This is neutral ground, and I get a head start. Five minutes. And you can count those minutes with a watch.”
“Don’t trust me to count?” he asked, his tone amused.
“Only if you count Mississippis and confirm the five minutes with a watch. That’s a lot of Mississippis you’d have to count.”
“What is the going rate for a Mississippi nowadays?
“Approximately a second each, if you say it right and don’t cheat.” I’d checked against a stopwatch once, startled to discover the method was fairly close to an actual second. “That would be three hundred Mississippis you’d have to go through. You’ll probably go mad trying to count them after a hundred.”
“That would help your cause a little, if I were to go mad counting to three hundred. Fortunately for you, I can count that high, and I’m a patient man. Usually. I’ll enjoy catching you. It’s so rare bounty hunting work is fun. You’re worth a pretty penny.”
“If you’re trying to convince me you’ll keep your word about the five minutes, you’re not doing a good job of it.”
“Run, and I’ll prove it to you.”
I listened again to make certain the storm wasn’t gearing up to take another swipe at Tulsa. When it seemed quiet, I nodded. “Close the door behind you.”
“Always. While a bounty hunter, I am a gentleman.”
With his ego, which might be bigger than the Mississippi during the spring thaw, I believed he thought he was a gentleman. “And why is a gentleman working as a bounty hunter?”
Sandro looked me over. “To test my ethics, apparently. I’ll have to decide if I keep you after I catch you.”
“I’m not up for sale.”
“Your bounty says otherwise, and vixens are always in high demand. Tell yourself otherwise if