Unlocking Her Secrets: Bayou Bounty Hunters, #3

By Melanie Atkins

Laura Leigh Bennett, a former debutant used to the finer things in life, is accused of a crime she swears she didn't commit. In an effort to clear her name, she jumps bail and goes on the run like a common criminal. Her goal is to stay clear of the law and find the person she believes shot Gerald Wayne, but a wise-ass bounty hunter soon catches her and sends her life spiraling even further out of control.

Gideon Blake has been bored  since he left the military. He has family money, so he doesn't have to work, but he relies on the contract jobs Bayou Bounty Hunters, Inc. throws his way to keep him out of trouble. So when Ryder calls needing a man to hunt down a woman who's jumped bail, Gideon agrees. He catches the former debutante, but before he can haul her back to jail, the two are trapped together by a terrible storm.

The electricity arcing between Laura Leigh and Gideon is as powerful as the lightning popping outside. Laura Leigh feels that visceral pull and uses it in an attempt to convince Gideon to help prove her innocence before he takes her back to jail. Gideon must decide if he'll stick to his guns or sacrifice his integrity for a woman he's just met.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melanie Atkins
• Release date: Mar 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393717379

Book preview

Other Books by Melanie Atkins

Bayou Bounty Hunters:

Book One: Protecting Her Heart

Book Two: Sealing His Fate

Book Three: Unlocking Her Secrets

New Orleans Detective Series:

Cherished Witness

Prime Suspect

Chosen Target

Beloved Captive

Unwilling Accomplice

Perfect Partner

Keller County Cops Series:

Marked for Murder

Shield of Valor

Quest for Justice

Deliverance from Evil

Written in Blood

Trained to Kill

Code of Vengeance

Single Titles & Novellas:

Haunted Memories

Skeleton Bayou

Flash Bang

Blood Rite

Voodoo Bones

Emily's Nightmare

Valentine Vendetta

Copyright © 2015 by Melanie Atkins

ISBN:

Published in the United States of America

First Publication Date: January 11, 2016

Second Publication Date: March 2, 2020

Editor: Sherry L. Brinson

Cover Artist: Jenifer Ranieri

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No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher. Ebooks are not transferrable, either in whole or in part. As the purchaser or otherwise lawful recipient of this ebook, you have the right to enjoy the novel on your own computer or other device. Further distribution, copying, sharing, gifting, or uploading is illegal and violates United States Copyright laws.  Pirating of ebooks is illegal. Criminal Copyright Infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, may be investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in prison and a fine of up to $250,000. Names, Characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents, or persons living or dead are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

Dedication

To my three furry little feline muses: Lucy, Boo, and Oreo, who never complain when I read dialogue and work out plot points or shoo them away from my laptop. All they want is to be fed, loved, and left to nap. Cats are perfect writing companions.

Chapter One

Settle down, Ryder. Gideon Blake smirked at his boss, the disgruntled part owner of Bayou Bounty Hunters, Inc., who'd just plopped into his brother Riley's chair like a sulking child. Honeymoons don't last forever. Riley will be back in a week.

I know, I know. Damn it. Ryder shook his head. I got used to taken' it easy while times were lean, and in the past six months—

Business has picked up.

Yeah, a lot. Riley's off snorkeling in Grand Cayman with his new bride, while I slave away chasing down two cheating husbands, one crazy-ass wife—and now some nutso high-maintenance diva who's jumped bail.

"Chin up, boss. It's not Riley's fault he popped the question sooner than you did. If you'd proposed to Gemma before he asked Miranda, you'd be the one basking on a white sand beach right now."

Screw you, Gideon.

Yeah? Is that how it's gonna be while I'm filling in? With a fake scowl, he lowered himself into a metal folding chair beside the desk and propped his ankle on the opposite knee. You know it's Friday, and I don't really have to be here. So play nice, twin number two, or I'll bail and leave you to handle all three cases by yourself.

Don't even think about it.

Then get a freaking grip. Magnolia Ridge—heck, the entire Gulf Coast—isn't so big we can't run 'em all down before Riley gets back.

You're right. Ryder put up both hands as if to keep Gideon at bay. I'll chill, if you'll round up the bail jumper. Someone from Oopsie called me at the crack of dawn—Oopsie Bail Bonds, a new outfit down in Biloxi, over in Long Beach—and they're eager to work with us.

Oopsie? Gideon laughed. Seriously, dude? What kind of rinky-dink operation is that?

Not so rinky-dink, from what I hear. Ryder lowered his hands and leaned back in his chair. Friend of mine claims Oopsie's run by three pistol packin' chicks who'd just as soon kick your ass as look at you. A bunch of real tough gals. Haven't you seen their billboard up on the highway as you're leavin' town?

Um, no. He frowned. Are they lesbians?

How in hell would I know? Doesn't matter. Ryder leaned forward. "What does is that the fugitive in question called 'em after the cops bagged her for aggravated assault. She allegedly shot her married boyfriend, and they bonded her out for a hefty chunk of change—then yesterday afternoon, she failed to show up in court. Being new, they don't need to lose that kinda dough if they're gonna survive."

Yeah? Well, just who is this fugitive? Gideon had a good idea, thanks to a story he'd just read online, but hoped he was wrong. The woman he'd pegged was pretentious, high profile, and enjoyed having her pretty face splashed all over the news and social media. He'd seen her once years ago when he’d helped out at a fundraiser she organized. Definitely the type of chick who usually gave him hives. "Please tell me it's not Laura Leigh Bennett. Anybody but her."

Sorry, bud. Ryder grinned at him. Have fun tracking down the Gulf Coast's most famous homicidal socialite.

I have another name for her. One that's not so nice, he groused with another scowl. Finding her will be the easy part. Hauling her in without killing her will be the challenge, thanks to that hoity-toity mouth of hers. She's sure to rain down hell on me from the moment I find her. Damn your sorry hide, Ryder Magee.

Hey, Riley told me to delegate. Ryder smirked and raised his hands again. With Gemma on the warpath, I know better than to traipse off after a beauty like Laura Leigh. You're the guy who's sworn he'll never have his own ball and chain, so you get the honors.

"Gemma's mad at you again? What'd you do now, genius?" Gideon laughed. Ryder had been dating his old flame Gemma Wade for almost a year and a half now and had yet to pop the question.

Ryder dropped his hands and sighed. She wanted a ring for her birthday, and I missed the signs. Thought she wanted to wait.

So buy her a damned ring already.

"I did, the day after her birthday. He leaned back in his chair. I haven't asked her yet 'cause I wanna do it up big, you know? On a special occasion or something, and I missed my chance 'cause it's already August. Nobody gives gifts on Labor Day, and we won't have another major holiday 'til Thanksgiving."

You don't need a special occasion, my friend. Most women would rather have something small and intimate. Cook her dinner, open a bottle of good red wine, and get down on one knee.

I don't know. Ryder frowned. Gemma likes big gestures.

Not for something like this. Trust me.

How would you know? You've never even dated the same woman for a full year.

No, but Gemma's a lot like my little sister Charmaine. Ike went small when he proposed, and she melted into a big 'ol puddle of goo.

Thought he took her up in a hot air balloon.

Nope, although he'd planned to 'til I talked him out of it. Gideon crossed his arms. He went small, and she said yes without ever leaving the ground. Turns out she's scared of heights.

Good thing he didn't take her up. Ryder's thoughtful expression morphed into a mean smirk. Well, while you're off chasing Laura Leigh Bennett this weekend, I just might give your suggestion a try.

Remind me again why I agreed to help you.

'Cause you're a damned good PI when you want to be, and you had a break in your not-so-busy schedule. The unpredictable life of a freelancer. Ryder chuckled. "I seem to recall you saying you were happy to fill the time with a worthy pursuit, although that makes no sense to me when you don't even have to work."

Work is good for the soul—and it keeps me out of trouble. Now, however, after listening to you ramble on, I wish I'd given my decision a little more thought. Gideon came to his feet and glowered down at his friend. Go ahead and fill me in before I leave. I'll need more info if I'm gonna find Ms. Snooty Pants and bring her in.

Got everything you need somewhere in this pile, and I'll text you her photo. A glamour shot is all I could find, but at least it's a recent one. Ten years ago, she was a Gulf Coast debutante. Apparently, being gorgeous and rich, she still loves to get dolled up and have her picture taken. Doubt she looks that fancy right now, though.

Oh, great... an ex-debutante. Gideon wagged his head in derision. "That makes her beautiful and snooty."

Ryder laughed and dug through the mounds of paperwork scattered across his brother's desk. Moments later, he pulled a manila folder from the pile and held it up in triumph.

You're in luck. Here's your copy of the case file. No previous criminal record, so that's everything we have on her. It'll be a quick read. He grinned. Should be a real treat for you. Anyway, we've got her personal info, including a list of the places she volunteers and the names, addresses, and phone numbers of her two BFFs and a couple of relatives. A brother and an aunt, I think. Her parents passed away 'bout five years ago in a boating accident.

I remember. It happened while I was home for a couple of weeks between deployments. The story was all over the local news. Gideon took the folder and flipped through it. This should be all I need, 'cept for her last known location.

Well, I can help you with that, too. Ryder propped his elbows on the desk. As soon as Oopsie called me, I notified all my agents to keep their eyes peeled for Laura Leigh. Of course, I sent a guy to confirm she wasn't at home, although I didn't expect her to be there. But Calumet got lucky and recognized her getting off a casino bus at the Island Breeze in Gulfport a little after seven. Lost her, though. That's why I called you.

"She went into a casino?" With a lift of his brow, Gideon gaped at Ryder. Why would she stop to gamble if she's on the run?

Hell if I know. His pal shrugged. She might need cash, but my guess is she made my guy and went in there to lose him. She apparently left home early this morning. Must be running scared, since she skipped her court date.

"She would have to rabbit on a damned Friday." Gideon glanced down at his watch. Almost eight a.m. I was planning to take a long weekend. Drive down to Florida.

Yeah? Well, I’m sorry, man, but I really need you to catch this chick. I was hoping Calumet could round her up, but she ditched him before he even got close. Ryder smirked and shook his head. Dude's usually a real pro, but he's having family troubles, and his head's just not in the game. Given the terms of this job, I've got to put a top-notch agent on it.

Well, thank you... I think. But what terms are you talking about?

You've only got the weekend to find her. Ms. Bennett has to be in court bright and early on Monday morning.

Whoa, hold on. Gideon furrowed his brow. What the hell?

You heard me. Ryder's smug grin faded. The court's cracking down on bonding companies. I kinda promised Cherry, over at Oopsie, that we'd meet her deadline, or the retrieval is free.

So in other words... if I don't bring this woman in on time, I don't get paid? Is that what you're telling me?

Pretty much. His boss settled back in his chair. "Then again, you're always mumbling that you don't actually need to work, thanks to your trust fund, so I just figured the lack of cash wouldn't be the problem for you it was for Calumet."

Maybe not, but I still believe in a job well done. Irritated that his friend had mentioned the money his parents had left him, Gideon slapped the file folder against the edge of the desk. So I'll have Little Miss Debutante back before the deadline. You can count on it.

Well, you'd better get moving if you're gonna follow through on that promise. Ryder grinned. Wouldn't want you to violate your impeccable code of honor.

Don't be an asshole. You have the same code of honor, and you damned well know it. Gideon waved the folder in Ryder's face. You just won't admit it.

*****

On the run from the police. Alone and on foot. Oh. My. God!

Laura Leigh Bennett rubbed her damp palms against her jeans and readjusted her backpack, then mentally timed the cars racing east on I-10. If she could gather her courage and dash across the first two lanes, she could reach the median and hide in the trees long enough to catch her breath before bolting across the westbound lanes.

And just where will I go after that? This is crazy.

She pictured the only option she could think of at the moment, a rustic cabin near Lyman, where her brother Ben liked to hunt deer. The place belonged to one of his friends, and he'd once mentioned that nobody spent much time there during the summer months because the cabin wasn't air conditioned. She hoped like hell no one was there now.

The very idea of any place in the Deep South not having air conditioning made Laura Leigh shudder, but she'd rather hole up in some primitive hovel and perspire than go to prison for a crime she didn't commit.

All she truly needed was a place to hide until she could figure out how to prove she hadn't shot Gerald Wayne Berryhill, the lying snake she'd dated for over a year before her life fell apart. An almost impossible feat with the law on her tail. All she carried in the backpack was a burner phone and charger, a little cash, her wallet, and a couple of changes of clothes.

Laura Leigh murmured an expletive and swiped at another mosquito. She'd already ruined her manicure, and the intense heat and humidity had melted her makeup into a gooey mess. That had become clear when she'd wiped her cheek and come away with enough mascara on her fingers to paint a linebacker's face. She probably looked like a raccoon.

Another bead of perspiration trickled down her hairline. She wiped it away with a huff and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes—hair her stylist had dyed to match the caramel-colored locks of Laura Leigh's favorite TV reality show diva. A few long strands had slipped free of her hastily gathered ponytail an hour ago, and it irritated her. She wasn't used to wearing her hair this way in public.

I'm Laura Leigh Bennett, president of the Gulf Coast Women's League, for crying out loud. I never spend this much time outside in August, and certainly not in the woods.

She groaned and shook her head. What self-respecting beauty queen ever allowed herself to perspire like this? She grumbled a bitter curse and flicked away yet another ravenous mosquito.

Five-star accommodations with thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, crisp linen tablecloths, and gleaming silver place settings were more her style. She was way more comfortable hanging out at the country club, having a three-course meal than running from the law.

Damn your sorry hide, Gerald Wayne. Her caustic words didn't even begin to express her burning fury. She growled another expletive aimed at the pitiless insects bombarding her face. Nobody else was around to hear her swear at her former boyfriend, but she finished her thought anyway. If somebody hadn't already shot you, I'd put a bullet right between those bedroom eyes.

Not only had he lied about being single, but he'd also claimed to be in love with her. Another blatant falsehood. The only person Gerald Wayne Berryhill had ever loved was himself, even if Stephanie—his wife—claimed he loved her.

The she-bitch from hell, Laura Leigh murmured to herself, remembering the ugly incident the day after the shooting. When she heard her lover had been shot the night before, Laura Leigh rushed to the hospital to see him. Stephanie made a terrible scene at the ICU, calling Laura Leigh awful names and accusing her of shooting Gerald Wayne. Her cheeks burned now at the humiliating memory.

Laura Leigh drew in a deep, fortifying breath, admonished herself for allowing that woman back into her head, and directed her attention back to the highway. Time to focus. She inched around the fat pine shielding her from the eyes of drivers racing by.

No traffic now.

Go!

Without pausing to take another breath, she leapt into the shallow ditch, ignored her bouncing backpack, and scrambled up the other side onto the shoulder of the highway.

Still no cars.

Hurry.

Laura Leigh gritted her teeth and bolted across both lanes, not stopping until she reached the copse of pines filling the median.

Her heart hammered as she shoved her way through the thick underbrush to a hidden spot within the trees, dropped her backpack, and sank to her knees. Unable to stop shaking, she put her hands on the ground and struggled to catch her breath.

Why is running from the cops so damned hard? she whined, loud enough to hear herself over the whoosh of cars. I can jog on the treadmill for forty-five minutes without stopping, for Pete's sake.

Yes, she worked out daily to keep trim. She also played tennis. She'd slacked off some this summer, however, mainly due to the heat, but also because she'd spent so much time with Gerald Wayne.

More wasted time, she snapped, tears filling her eyes. She wiped the moisture away with the tail of her Polo shirt and released a shaky sigh. "You even helped ruin my health."

True. He'd ruined just about everything.

She scowled. Maybe I should call my old personal trainer and line up a few more sessions—if I don't go to jail.

A shudder rippled down her spine. Going to prison wasn't an option. Somehow, she had to find out who had shot Gerald Wayne.

How else will I clear my name?

She swallowed back the urge to cry and rubbed a layer of perspiration off her face. Her hand shook as she wiped it on her thigh.

The deep honk of a horn startled her. She pushed herself to her feet, swung the pack back onto her shoulders, and tiptoed through the trees until she could see the westbound lanes.

An eighteen-wheeler roared by, nearly blowing a tiny red car off the road. The trucker had probably honked either to scare the driver or to warn him he was coming around.

Once the turtle-paced car disappeared, Laura Leigh edged out of hiding, took a deep breath, and checked for more traffic.

Nothing.

Go!

She set her jaw, raced into the shallow ditch, and scurried up the other side. Just as she reached the graveled shoulder, a sleek black car blew by her so fast she lost her breath.

Oh my! she exclaimed with a gasp, startled by the wave of hot air racing over her, causing more perspiration to bead on her skin.

She didn't see any more vehicles