Remembering to bring her Taser would be a good idea, too.

As she pulled away from the curb, she felt a strange curl of disappointment in her belly. She should’ve been relieved by her decision to leave Henry Kavenski to other, braver, more experienced bounty hunters, but a part of her didn’t want to give him up. After following him around and learning everything she could about him, she’d become, oddly enough, a touch possessive.

She firmly quashed the thought. It was time to focus on a new skip, one whose worst crime was jaywalking or tearing tags off mattresses.

Pressing down on the accelerator, she left the run-down motel and Henry Kavenski behind.

* * *

Two days later, Cara was regretting her decision to leave Kavenski to the professionals…well, the more professional professionals. She clicked through the pile of jobs she’d lined up and made a face. None of them were even close to the bail bond he’d skipped on, and the fifteen percent fee seemed paltry compared to what they’d get for bringing Kavenski in.

“That’s the problem, genius,” she muttered to herself, tapping the side of her laptop with an anxious fingertip. “You’d have to actually bring him in.”

With a Taser or her sisters’ help, she probably could manage that, but the real issue was that she honestly didn’t want to. There weren’t a lot of killers—or criminals of any sort—who would’ve just let her walk away unharmed. It made her wonder if he really was the vicious killer he was accused of being.

“You’re such a sucker.” With a sigh, she shut down her computer. “You just think he’s pretty.”

“Who’s pretty?” Her twin, Charlie, charged into the kitchen, heading directly to the fridge. Warrant immediately hopped up from his sprawl under the table to follow her, obviously hoping for snacks.

Trying to disguise her guilty jump by standing up and slipping her laptop into her backpack, Cara blinked innocently at her sister. “One of the skips.” It wasn’t a lie.

Charlie frowned at the contents of the fridge before closing the door and grabbing a banana. “Whose turn is it to get groceries? Things are looking a little desperate in there.” Leaning her hip against the counter, she raised an eyebrow at Cara. “Speaking of desperate… A skip? Really?”

Despite her discomfort about talking—even indirectly—about the mess she’d made of her encounter with Kavenski, Cara had to laugh. “Come on. You can’t tell me that, of all the hundreds of skips we’ve handled, you’ve never found any remotely attractive?”

Charlie grinned around her bite of banana, conceding the point without saying a word.

Zipping her backpack, Cara hauled it over her shoulder and glanced at the time on her phone. “Got to get to class. And it’s your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

“Getting groceries. Don’t bring home only junk this time, or Felicity will make you run extra laps.” Cara headed for the door as her twin gave a dramatic groan.

“Fine, but I’m still getting Lucky Charms.”