Page 27 of Witch Bound and Down

"I'm holed up at a truck stop about sixty miles east of Flagstaff. Got friendly truckers keeping watch, but I can't stay here long. These witch ladies seem real motivated to stop our shipment, if you catch my meaning."

"We copy. What's the new plan?"

"I've been talking to some of the local drivers. There's a back route through the Painted Desert—old mining roads, mostly. It'll add eight hours to our journey, but it should keep us off their radar."

"Eight hours?" Bullseye did quick mental math. They'd already burned twelve hours of their thirty-six hour window. "That puts us right at the deadline."

"Better late than caught, good buddy. Besides, I've got some ideas about how to make up time once we're clear of the surveillance net. But we need to coordinate our approach. This delivery isn't just a simple drop-off."

"What do you mean?"

"The clients want both vehicles present for the handover. Something about security protocols and chain of custody. We need to rendezvous at the pickup point, then travel together to the delivery location."

Bullseye's jaw tightened. That was news to him. "When were you planning to mention this?"

"Just found out myself, good buddy. Got the updated instructions an hour ago. The clients are very specific about both drivers being present for the final exchange."

"That changes things," Bullseye muttered. "If we both have to be there..."

"We'll make it work," Snowman's voice was reassuring. "But we need to move fast. Every hour we spend dodging these witch patrols is an hour we can't afford to lose."

"Roger that. Send me the route coordinates when you can."

"Will do. Oh, and Bullseye? You might want to find yourselves a real secure place to spend the night. Word is, these witch covens don't give up easy, and they've got resources most folks can only dream about."

The radio went silent, leaving them alone with the implications of Snowman's warning.

"Eight hours," Hazel said quietly. "That's assuming we don't run into any more trouble."

"There's always more trouble," Bullseye replied. "Question is, are you still up for this? Because things are about to get a lot more dangerous."

"Are you kidding?" Hopper piped up. "She's having the time of her life. Look at her aura—it's practically sparkling with excitement."

Hazel's laugh was shaky but determined. "After this morning, dangerous is starting to feel normal." She paused, then looked at him seriously. "Besides, I'm not going anywhere. We're in this together now, remember?"

"Together," he repeated, liking the sound of it more than he should.

"Together," she confirmed. "Though I have to say, for people just getting to know each other, we have some pretty intense chemistry."

That was putting it mildly. Even now, with witch covens hunting them and federal agents on their trail, all Bullseye could think about was how good it had felt to hold her, how right it had seemed when she'd kissed him.

"Hazel," he started, but she held up a hand.

"I know. Bad timing, dangerous situation, barely know each other, et cetera. But Bullseye..." She reached out and touched his cheek, her fingers warm against his skin. "I've never felt anything like this before. This connection between us—it's not just attraction. It's like our magic recognizes each other."

He caught her hand in his, pressing her palm flat against his face. "I feel it too. It's like you complete something in me I didn't even know was missing."

"So what do we do about it?"

"Oh, for the love of lily pads," Hopper groaned. "Can we save the magical bonding session until after we're not being hunted by half the supernatural community? Some of us would like to live long enough to see tomorrow."

Before Bullseye could answer, another sound echoed across the desert—helicopter rotors, and getting closer.

"Right now?" Bullseye said, starting the engine, "we run. Again."

They pulled back onto the highway just as a sleek helicopter appeared over the ridge, moving fast and low.

"That's not law enforcement," Hazel said, watching it through the rear window.

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