Read Bounty (Walk the Right Road) for Free Online Page A

branches and foliage. She heard a groan. “Where are you?” she called out again, the flames of panic flickering at her back. How stupid was this? No one ever came back here. Shit, shit. She hurried onto the narrow trail and spotted a large guy in a black shirt and track shorts lying on the ground, holding his side. “Oh my God.” She skidded to the man’s side, landing on her knee. “What the hell are you doing here?”
    She couldn’t believe it was Zac, all six feet of hunky muscle lying on a dirt path, covered in sweat, with blood oozing from his side. His hand was pressed over the wound, and blood dribbled between his large fingers. For the first time in her life, Diane thought she was going to pass out.
    “What kind of reckless broad are you?” he spit out through gritted teeth.
    “I’m so sorry. How bad is it?” She realized she was still holding her gun and shoved it back in her holster. She tried to move his hand.
    “No, stop. Just help me up.” He was really sweating, but he’d also been running too. His shirt was drenched, his forehead covered with beads of sweat.
    “Lie still. I better call an ambulance. Dammit, I left my cell phone inside. I’ll be right back.” She started to get up, but he grabbed her elbow.
    “No, I’ll go with you. I need a towel or something to stop the bleeding.” He groaned as he rolled over on his side and up on his knees. Then he was on his feet, and he staggered a step before Diane took his elbow.
    “Here, lean on me. My place is just through these trees.”
    He grunted and leaned into her. She slid her hand around his back, feeling every pull of his hard muscles. Lord, she didn’t think the man had an ounce of fat on him, and he was so tall that the top of her head just touched his shoulder.
    “What were you shooting at?” he growled in a low voice filled with irritation. Of course he was pissed off. She realized she could be in big trouble for this. She had never worried much, living way out here.
    “I was shooting at some cans. You know, target shooting. What the hell were you doing back there, anyway?” She helped him up her back step and into her kitchen.
    “Jogging. There’re tons of trails through here, and it’s a great spot, nice and quiet, not crowded.” He leaned against the kitchen counter.
    Diane yanked open a drawer and pulled out a handful of dishtowels. Zac pressed one to the wound before she could get around to his side to take a look. She picked up the phone and started dialing 911.
    “Hang it up,” he said.
    With a second of hesitation, she ended the call. When she looked up into his face, his expression was hard and irritated. Those eyes rattled her brain, tossing out all her common sense, and he was slipping inside her heart and touching the hurt that had always lived inside her.
    “You and I both know that with gunshot wounds, questions are asked, reports are filled out, psych’s called in, and sometimes even worse.”
    She knew what he was saying: This could mean marks on her record, a careless, irresponsible, stupid mistake that would have her landing on one side of the chief’s desk, having a strip torn off her and possibly being suspended. It would have all those ass-kissing cops smirking to one another, saying, I told you so. This shooting would be a black mark that would always follow her.
    “Look, Zac, you’re shot. I shot you. I need to get you to the hospital. There’s no way around it. I’m so sorry, Zac. How bad is it?” She was trembling, and he was watching her now as if she were the injured one. She touched his hand where the bloody towel was pressed to his skin, and his shirt rode up.
    “It’s just a flesh wound, Diane. If you have some gauze, bandages, I’ll patch it up. I can clean it better at home.”
    Diane pulled the edge of the towel away. “You need to get this stitched up, and then there’s the matter of possible infection. You can’t do this yourself,” she said. Then it dawned on her that maybe