Hardman - Delilah Devlin Page 0,1

company.

Then they heard noise up ahead. Soft groans, a thready moan. The distinctive slap of flesh on flesh. Matthew Harper was getting busy in the grass.

Dagger pointed to Preacher and then to his left.

Keeping low, Preacher moved quietly to the left of the couple.

Following Dagger’s hand signals, Hardman moved to the right. When he reached his position, he low-crawled through tall grass until he saw glimpses of pink flesh between the waving blades. A man’s ass was flexing, driving downward. Pale, plump legs encircled his hips.

By the speed of his movements, he was getting close.

“Ready?” Dagger whispered.

“Ah, let him finish,” Lacey said. “It’ll be a long time before he gets to knock against someone with breasts again.”

Marti snickered in his ear.

“We even sure he’s our guy?” Preacher grumbled.

“Can’t tell. I’ve got the rear view, and his ankles are hidden in the grass,” Hardman whispered, grimacing, because he really didn’t want to take a closer look.

“I’m getting closer,” Lacey said.

“Stay the fuck where you are,” Dagger bit out.

“Oh. He’s got a shaved head,” Lacey said.

Which could be a problem. Harper had had long, frizzy hair in his booking photo.

“Gotta wait until they get up to ID him,” Dagger said.

The couple on the ground rolled until the female sat atop the male. She was a well-rounded woman with large breasts and a generous behind.

“She’s certainly energetic,” Lacey said as the woman bounced over the man’s hips.

At last, the woman’s head fell back, and a series of “Oh-oh-ohs” echoed in the clearing.

The man gripped her hips and rutted upward before letting out a loud shout.

“Satisfied, Lace?” Dagger drawled.

“Nope, but they sure are.”

The hunters stood, drawing their weapons.

“Fugitive Recovery Agents!” Dagger shouted.

The couple froze. Then the man tossed the woman to the side and bolted up from the ground. Nude, he barreled past Lacey, knocking her to the ground, and headed straight toward the river.

“Got a runner,” Hardman said, following close on the man’s heels.

“I’ll keep my eyes peeled,” Marti said.

As his feet pounded the dirt, Hardman noted the black ankle monitor the naked man wore. “It’s our guy.”

“I’m staying with the woman,” Lacey said. “I’ll help her find her clothes.”

“Hardman, get the lead out,” Dagger bit out. “Don’t let him get to that boat.”

When Harper approached the edge of the bank, Hardman expected the man to slow down, but he didn’t. Hardman reached out, grabbing for his shoulder, but Harper leapt into the air then bumped on his naked ass down the side of the embankment.

“He’s over the edge,” Hardman said, skidding on his own backside over rocks and exposed roots.

“I see him,” Marti shouted.

Hardman heard a splash.

“Marti, don’t let those boats get away,” Dagger said. “It’s my credit card on the deposit!”

At the bottom of the embankment, Hardman pushed off the ground and ran behind Harper, who was nearing his beached skiff. Hardman would never catch the skip before he was inside it, so he unclipped the Spiderman bolo gun and aimed for the man’s thighs.

He struck Harper at the back of his knees just as he entered the water—and just as Marti jumped in front of him to prevent him getting into his boat.

The bolo deployed and wrapped around his knees. Harper fell forward—on top of Marti—and they both sank into the water.

Hardman rushed toward them and pulled on Harper’s shoulders.

Marti sat in the water and gulped in air with Harper still pinning her hips to the bottom of the river. “You did this on purpose!” she said, glaring at Hardman. “Get him off me.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” Matthew Harper said, sounding miserable. “But water’s so cold I can’t get it up anyway.”

Marti smacked his chest. “No one better have a camera!”

“Too late,” Dagger quipped.

Hardman glanced over his shoulders at Dagger who held out his iPhone. He was bent at the waist laughing.

Hardman wrapped an arm around Harper’s middle and lifted him off Marti who scooted backward then slowly stood. She looked down at her wet clothing and gear and her lips curled in disgust. When her gaze met Hardman’s, it narrowed. “Not a word. Ever.”

“I did tell you to stay with the boat,” he said, his tone cheerful.

“Shit,” Dagger bit out.

Hardman’s gaze darted to their boat. It was bobbing toward the center of the river, dragging the jon boat, to which it was tied, right along with it.

“Son of a bitch,” Dagger spat then climbed into Harper’s little dingy, started up the motor and drove it toward the two boats that were now picking up speed.

“He probably should’ve waited for me to