Bounty Full Romance

By David and Linda Broughton

Kelly turned to bounty hunting when her military skills weren't wanted by anyone in the area, usually just because she's a woman. She's doing okay with it, concentrating on small risk, small reward bounties, but lots of them. A notice comes for her 20th high school reunion. She's going, it's her chance to finally tell that damn Brodie off for leaving so long ago, without so much as a card since...

• Language: English
• Publisher: David and Linda Broughton
• Release date: Nov 10, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458077592

David and Linda Broughton

The love of my life, Linda, is deceased. There will be a few more books by us, since more are written, they are not edited yet. In her honor I will try to get them edited and out to the public, but it's not easy for me. I have a new writing partner now, as well as a partner in life. No it will never be the same, nor should it. To those that review my books. I would greatly appreciate it if you actually READ the entire book before you write the review. Skimming it and posting a review just minutes after you buy it doesn't give a full understanding of the work. One person did this with "Grumpy Old Spy" and totally missed the entire story, and got what they did catch all wrong. I don't appreciate that. If you're not going to do an honest assessment after reading the entire book, don't bother to review it at all. In fact, if that person would contact me, I'll give them their money back for the book, providing they pull the cheap shot review.

Book preview

Chapter 1

She's passed all the tests, both the written and the disassembly and reassembly of the weapons this company makes. Kelly feels like she has a good shot at this job.

The previous applicant stomps out of the interview room, obviously not a happy camper. In a moment the older man doing the interviews calls out, Kelly Murphy, you're next.

Kelly coolly and confidently strides into the interview room. She gives this Mr. Stokes a firm handshake, and a brisk, business-like, Good Morning, Mr. Stokes.

No morning is a good morning for me when I have to wade through tons of applicants.

I see, well just hire me then you'll be finished for the morning.

Good response, though it's not that easy. I have several spots to fill. I see you're applying for the job of final inspector and test firing operations.

Yes, that's correct.

Twenty years in the Army, the last ten as an armorer, is that also correct?

Yes, it is.

Hmmm, as qualified as you are, perhaps over-qualified, I don't think you'd fit in with the program in that area. We do need a traveling sales rep, and a receptionist, would either of those positions interest you?

Sales rep might, there's no way I'd be a good receptionist. You'll want somebody fresh out of high school or college for that.

That's the usual way of it. However a receptionist that knows what the customers are talking about might be a good thing.

Maybe, but I'm not at all interested in that low paying of a position.

Well then, I'll have to let you know later. I'll have to see all the applicants and make my decision. With no prior sales experience, your chances of getting the sales rep position aren't good.

Why can't I just get the inspection and test firing operations job?

Putting you in under that supervisor … well it's akin to playing Russian Roulette, sooner or later one of you would go off. He's related to the owners, I can't fire him, or I would. He's a well to be polite I'll say he's a … dinosaur in his thinking.

You mean because I'm a woman, he wouldn't give me any respect.

He might respect you all right as a woman, not as an employee. For me to put you there … well it would cause me and you more problems than it's really worth.

I understand. I ran into that all the time in the Army. That's the main reason I got out at twenty years in, I wasn't going to advance any farther.

I'm glad you understand. Feel free to file a sex discrimination suit. I'd actually love that. Maybe the owners of this fine arms company would finally take what I say seriously.

I don't think I'll be doing that. However, if you'd care to introduce me to this guy, I'd be glad to flatten him.

I don't think that would be good for my job. Well, I'll let you know in two weeks one way or the other, but don't hold your breath.

Oh, I won't. I just don't know of many jobs outside of the military where I could put my skills to use.

There are other manufacturers, if you'd care to visit their main offices in New York City, Kahr Arms is forward thinking and innovative, with positions all over the country … and rest of the world for that matter.

I'll think on that, but I really don't want to move again if I don't have to. I like Texas, I'd at least want to be based out of here.

Good luck to you then.

You too, thanks for being honest with me about it.

That's the least I can do, I don't hold with giving people false hope.

All right, maybe I'll see you again some time. Kelly stands, shakes his hand again and leaves the room.

Within minutes, she's outside, putting on her helmet. She gets on her old, rebuilt, rare Hesketh motorcycle. She picked it up when stationed in England for next to nothing. Of course, that was before she rebuilt it from the frame up, a difficult task since parts are even rarer than the bikes. Some were available in England, where they're made originally, but she had to make many of the parts herself. Not a difficult task at the time, since she had an entire military machine shop to do it in. It would be hell to do now that she has access only to the small machine shop the nearest base makes available for the part time use of vets, mostly it's a place for the active duty people to work on various hobbies.

Kelly roars down the road to the tiny apartment she's temporarily calling home. It's not much, something they call a garden apartment. She's yet to figure out where the hell the garden is. It does have French doors that open on to a three-foot wide patio. The solid brick wall just beyond that must be the garden. Since when do bricks grow in a garden?

She can barely afford it on her three quarters pension, that's the only reason she took it. Now she needs to find a job, not only for the money, but to keep from going stark raving mad from boredom.

She considered going home to Shelbyville, Kentucky. It holds little interest for her now. Her parents are gone, tragically killed in a plane crash years ago. Her sister, Karen, lives in Alaska with her hubby and a passel of kids. She visited her once that was enough. They never were all that close, since Karen is nine years younger.

Kelly stayed in Texas, though she moved a bit away from her last posting at an El Paso armory. She's in Hudson Oaks now, just a little ways out of the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex. She considered San Antonio, but rents are high with little chance for employment, for someone of her skills.

Kelly looks in the mirror in the bathroom. My hair is … yuck, is the only way to describe it. It used to be a beautiful deep red, but its been looking rather strange lately, and acting strange. The color is very muted now, it's taken on a brownish tint I don't care for. She looks at the instructions on the hair dye that's been sitting there in the bathroom waiting for her to use. Oh, what the hell, I might as well, it's supposed to be easy. Damn, I'm talking to myself out loud already. Much more of this nothing life and I will go crazy, if I'm not already.

Kelly begins the process of dyeing her hair, hopefully, it will bring it back to something close to what it should be, a deep red, smooth and manageable. Of course, she doesn't really expect the dye to live up to the claims in the ads or on the box. Does anything ever live up to the claims?

When she's finished, she uses the blowdryer on it, though she probably shouldn't. She doesn't dry it thoroughly, but leaves it just a little damp so hopefully it won't get frizzy. Sometimes it tends to do that if she blowdries it too much. It's still rather short, she had it cut that way for ease of maintaining it while in the Army, but she's letting it grow out to a more feminine length. Kelly thinks that perhaps looking a little less military and more feminine will help her land a job of some sort. What job, she has no idea.

She picks up one of the dozen paperback books she picked up at a yard sale. She hasn't got a TV, since for years there hasn't been much available worth watching unless she would be willing and able to pay for cable or satellite. It's not worth it to her, she'd rather curl up with a good book anytime.

This book, number eleven in Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum series, promises to be another winner. She's been reading the series off and on for years, Kelly doesn't know how many are in the series now. She turns on her reading light on the headboard of her bed. She starts reading the novel. Six chapters in, a light dawns on her. The lead character, Stephanie, is a rather inept bounty hunter, but always seems to get the job done, usually more by luck than any skill.

The character of Ranger … Oh he's dreamy, and a real bounty hunter, the way one should be. I could do that, why not? Hopefully, I'd be more like Ranger, not much like Stephanie, but in the beginning … who knows.

She gets out her laptop computer. The building does provide wireless internet service, about the only perk they do provide. She starts researching bounty hunting online. In Texas, the laws are very liberal. In other places, they vary from liberal to very strict, some states don't even allow bounty hunting.

In Texas, about all she has to do is become a peace officer, a level three security officer, or a private investigator then sign on with any bail bondsman, or several, many work for several, to keep steady work.

With her military background, she can get the level-three security officer license by simply taking a written test and paying the fee.

While she's online, she applies over the internet to Kahr Arms, for a sales rep position based out of the Dallas-Fort Worth area. What the hell, it's worth a try.

She goes back to reading the book, it's too good to stop reading, but she lets her mind see the possibilities. Being female could actually be an advantage in bounty hunting at times. She'll have to get some half-way sexy clothes, some makeup, and look very feminine at times, so the bail jumpers won't suspect she's a bail enforcement agent as most prefer to be called these days.

Kelly finishes the book, then turns up the air conditioning, so she can snuggle down under the blankets, her second favorite thing in the world to do. It's much better after doing the first thing, but she's had none of that for a long time, too long. She drifts off to sleep thinking of tracking down real bad hombres.

Chapter 2

Brodie Michaels is walking out of the Shelby County courthouse a free man. No, he wasn't on trial for a crime, unless marrying the girl your parents pushed you toward is a crime. He thinks it probably should be. He's got his divorce, and better yet, that spendthrift, nagging, hell on wheels bitch of a wife got nothing, not a dime, not a car, no house, not even her jewelry.

When it was proved in court how much of the Michaels family fortune she'd went through over the years, while she failed to provide Brodie with any children, the judge took no pity on her. Besides the prenup his father had insisted on, the capper that set the judge, a female judge, on his side was that his private investigators were able to prove with out a doubt that she was taking birth control pills, so that she could have multiple sex partners while giving Brodie nothing.

Strictly speaking what that bitch did isn't illegal, or the judge would have probably tossed her butt in jail and thrown away the key. That's just not how a Kentucky lady is supposed to behave.

Now he can do as he pleases for once in his life. His parents are still alive, but have moved to Florida. Why, Brodie never did understand, Kentucky winters aren't usually all that bad. His parent's aren't high on his list of people to talk to these days. His father and mother pushed him into marrying that wicked bitch from the east, east of Shelbyville, that is.

Brodie's parents are so screwy that after the he showed them the evidence of what she was doing, they still wanted him to stay married for appearances sake. His rejoinder was What appearances, so I can keep up the appearance of being a damn fool? That was the last time he'd spoken to them.

They'd already given him the horse ranch and a substantial amount of money, so as to avoid any inheritance taxes, and provide means for a Kentucky gentleman to live. He can and will tell them to go to hell if they ever meddle in his life again.

What to do with himself now, at the ripe old age of thirty-eight, he doesn't know. Sometimes, he wishes he'd stayed in the military, instead of opting for the sweet life it looked like his parents were offering. He should have known that sweet life would include so many strings it was like being tangled in a giant spider web.

His old pickup truck is waiting for him. It's been his since his high school days, a gift from his parents on his sixteenth birthday. It's seen a couple of motors, and a couple of minor crunches repaired, and four … or was it five paint jobs. He could ride around in the estate limo, with a driver, and occasionally he does. He'd rather drive his pickup most of the time. It was his first ride, where he had his first real kiss, and where he and that sweet Kelly Murphy had both lost their virginity. I should have married that gal, instead of running off to the military to be out from under my parent's plan for me to go to law school, become a judge, or go into politics, probably both.

Kelly Murphy, I haven't had a day go by I haven't thought of her. I wonder if those same private detectives could find her. She went into the military too, so I was told. Oh, she's probably married, got a passel of kids, and has never given me a passing thought. It would be good to know.

Hey, the class reunion is coming up in a month, maybe the people in charge of that have been able to find her. If not, I'll offer to help find her … yeah right, they'll see right through that, but what the hell do I care if they do?

He fires up his old but new looking pickup, then drives over to Billy Rial's office on the main drag. Billy sells real estate these days, but he's also on the reunion committee. He might know.

Chapter 3

Kelly wakes from her nap feeling a little better about things. Her dreams didn't give her any revelations about what she should do now, but she did have the dream of her first love, Brodie Michaels again. Brodie running off to join the military to escape his parents plans for him, she understood. She didn't like it, but understood.

Her parents weren't wealthy, so his parents looked down on Kelly as not being good enough for Brodie. That made it difficult for him to be with her from the start. He'd taken her to his family home once, the chilly reception left her cold, so to speak. Brodie told her about the fight with his parents over him seeing her they had after she left. She didn't blame him for trying to get the hell out from under their thumbs.

Still, he could have married her and taken her with him, or she could have joined him later, as his wife, that would be expected in the military. He thought as uncertain as things were at that time, it was no life for her. Two weeks after he left, she signed up too, since there was little else she was going to be able to do without going to college, which her parents flat couldn't afford back then. They did better later, but by then she'd made herself a life in the Army.

After a quick bathroom visit, Kelly pulls on some comfortable clothes, just army issue shorts, and a tank top, an actual military issue tank top. It's too late in the day now to do anything about the job situation, so she ambles down to the mailboxes down the hall, keys in hand, to see what bad news the mail brought today. It's almost always either occupant junk mail, or bills, or something else she wishes really wouldn't show up. She'll get it over with now, while she's still a little groggy, that makes it somewhat more palatable.

Today there's a letter in the mail that's been forwarded from Kelly's last posting in El Paso. It's an invitation to her twenty-year high school reunion. It's nearly a month away yet, she'd love to go, but affording it … well maybe. Her credit cards are paid up, for that she might just max them out if need be.

Maybe Brodie would be there, or somebody that knew what became of him. I'd like to get him out of my system once and for all … or maybe … no … that's not likely, if he didn't stay in the military, his folks would have foisted some former debutante on him. If he did stay in the military … well face it girl, he could very well be long dead. No, I know he's not, he just can't be. How I know … well, that's anybody's guess.

It's nearing supper time, aromas of good things cooking permeate the hallway. Kelly's belly rumbles. Either I'm going to have baloney sandwiches for supper, or go out.

Kelly can cook a little, but for one, it's nearly as cheap to eat at the lower end restaurants. Where to go, that's the question, not a burger again, not what suffices for pizza around here, either. Barbecue is great around here, but I'm tired of that too. Perhaps the Chinese place, it's always good…no… darn it, there must be a place around here to get something close to home style cooking. Beef stew, or pot roast, with the trimmings… something like that.

Kelly thinks a minute, then decides to go for a ride on her bike to see what she can find a little further out of the neighborhood. There must be some place like that around.

Rather than change her clothes for a bike ride … Kelly won't ride in shorts and halter-top, though the weather is hot, she slips on some lightweight coveralls she often uses for this problem. She puts on her military boots, with the steel toes and steel plate in the sole. Her helmet, some lightly tinted shooting glasses, and some leather gloves, then she's ready to ride.

She tucks her pistol in the compartment made for it in her fanny pack. She straps it on, with the pack in front, opposite of the way the name suggests.

She locks up her apartment, not that she has much to steal. Hell, a thief would probably take pity on me and leave some stuff. She gets on her bike. She has a pickup truck, but if at all practical, she rides the bike. It's a lot more fun and above all, more economical.

She rides around town, not finding much other than the usual chain places. She rides up the highway just a bit. That place may do, it's a small truck stop, but has trucks parked all around, even some just pulled over on the side of the road. That's got to be a good sign. The place must have either great food or cheap food, hopefully both.

The place is packed, she'll have to wait, but there must be something worth waiting for, the aromas wafting through in the air are heavenly, especially to someone as hungry as she is. That stuff sure smells good, it's definitely not Ode de Truck Driver I'm getting a whiff of.

Kelly goes to the ladies room, strips off her coveralls, then walks back through the dining room. Now, all the truckers are eyeing her form. She's not offended, she finds it a compliment that at thirty-eight the men, including the younger guys are looking her over with hungry eyes … not hungry for food, either.

Kelly squeezes into a spot at the counter. Neither trucker on each side seems to mind at all, but they don't move over much, rubbing up against her might give them a cheap thrill, so be it, she's not going to worry about it. Real men wanting to rub up against her doesn't hurt her feelings a bit.

The harried waitress hand signals to her that it will be a few minutes, that’s what she thinks those hand gestures mean. It's not the old one finger salute, though I bet this gal feels like giving it to everyone about now.

The gal carries out a big tray of orders, many of them are a great looking, and fantastic smelling pot roast. The chalk board above the rear counter tells her the pot roast is the special of the day, only four dollars and fifty cents, including either coffee or sweet tea. The price is right, the food looks great. How they can do it that cheap, she'll never know. She decides on that without looking at the menu available in the rack that holds the condiments.

The waitress comes by, Let me guess, pot roast and sweet tea?

You got it, I guess you don't have to be a mind reader to guess that tonight.

Nope, Tuesday nights, that's ninety percent of the orders, except if it's cold out, then they go with coffee.

What's the special for tomorrow night?

Meatloaf with mashed taters and brown gravy.

Okay, thanks I think I'll try to be here earlier tomorrow.

Unless you're going to come back at nine in the morning, forget it, meatloaf day is crazier yet.

I'll see about that.

Okay, if you can stand these guys all eyein' ya like they're hungry rattlers, go for it. The waitress moves away, puts the ticket on the window, but hollers, Another special, Mary.

The gal puts several more orders on a tray and starts out with them. A burly trucker sitting at a table near the counter