Page 7 of Witch Bound and Down

"Roger that. I'm making good time on the interstate. You watch your six out there."

Sheriff Lawman was charging across the parking lot now, other deputies streaming out of the venue behind him. Some looked like they'd been through a blender, and one poor bastard was missing his pants entirely, but they were all armed and motivated.

"Oh, this is just perfect," the frog muttered from Hazel's shoulder. "From wedding disasters to being accessories to... whatever this is. What's next, joining the supernatural circus?"

"We're not accessories to anything," Bullseye protested, though his attention was split between the approaching law enforcement and the way Hazel's presence was making his body hum like a finely tuned engine.

"Then why are you talking in code on that radio?" Hazel asked, her magic-enhanced senses apparently picking up on more than he'd like. She gathered her veil in her lap, the white silk contrasting sharply with her determined expression. "Bullseye? Snowman? That's either the world's most elaborate fantasy football league or you're running some kind of operation."

"That's... complicated."

"Oh good, complicated. My favorite kind of criminal activity," the frog muttered. "Right up there with 'slightly illegal' and 'probably not fatal.'"

Bullseye looked at Hazel—his mate, his destiny, the woman who'd literally dropped into his life at the exact moment he needed her—then at the approaching wall of angry law enforcement.

"Drive," she said urgently, those green eyes meeting his with an intensity that made his chest tight. "Please. I'll explain everything, I promise."

"Sugar," Bullseye said, flashing her the kind of grin that had charmed his way out of trouble in four states, "you don't need to ask twice."

He grabbed his CB radio. "Snowman, change of plans. I'm about to get real busy playing tag with the local law. You stick to our schedule and don't worry about me."

"10-4, Bullseye. Try not to get yourself thrown in the pokey before the real fun starts."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Bullseye drawled, then slammed the Trans Am into gear.

The car shot forward like a rocket, leaving nothing but rubber and attitude in their wake. In the rearview mirror, he watched Sheriff Lawman make a desperate lunge for his trunk and miss by a country mile. The bear's roar of frustration followed them down the street.

Sirens wailed behind them as Sheriff Lawman's cruiser joined the chase, followed by what looked like half the supernatural police force in three counties.

"So," Bullseye said, glancing at the pursuit in his rearview mirror while trying not to get distracted by the way Hazel's magic kept calling to his, "anyone want to explain why we're suddenly public enemy number one? Because that bear doesn't seem to know who I am, but he's sure acting like I just robbed Fort Knox."

"It's not my fault," Hazel said quickly. "I was trying to escape my own wedding when Hopper's spell went a little... overboard."

"A little?" the frog—Hopper—snorted. "I summoned every frog in a five-mile radius. The venue looked like the plague of Egypt, but with more croaking."

"You were supposed to marry Sheriff Lawman?" Bullseye asked, something that felt suspiciously like jealousy clawing at his chest despite the obvious impossibility.

"His son," Hazel corrected. "Smokie. And before you ask, yes, that's his real name. No, I don't know why. And yes, he really does sleep with a teddy bear."

Relief flooded through him so fast it was embarrassing. "So you're not married."

"Nope. Still single and apparently on the run from the law." She glanced at him sideways, her veil catching the afternoon light. "Speaking of which, it's not every day you see a minotaur driving a Trans Am like he was born to it. Mind telling me why you're so comfortable with high-speed chases?"

"Let's just say I'm in the transportation business," Bullseye replied, taking another sharp turn that made the tires sing. "Specialized cargo, time-sensitive deliveries, that sort of thing."

"Transportation," Hazel repeated, her magic-enhanced senses clearly picking up on what he wasn't saying. "Right. So you're either a very dedicated pizza delivery guy, or..." Her eyes widened as realization hit. "Oh. Oh no. You're one of those supernatural smugglers, aren't you? The ones who haul contraband across state lines for ridiculous amounts of money?"

"I prefer 'independent contractor,'" Bullseye said, though his heart wasn't really in the deflection. Hard to maintain professional distance when you'd just met your destined mate.

"Right," Hazel said, looking between him and the CB radio. "Independent contractor with a friend named Snowman and matching handles."

"This is not happening," Hopper groaned. "We went from bad life choices to worse life choices in under five minutes. That has to be some kind of record. And now we're apparently part of some cross-country smuggling operation."

More sirens joined the chorus behind them. Through the rearview mirror, Bullseye could see Sheriff Lawman's cruiser gaining ground, smoke literally pouring from his exhaust pipes. The bear was running hot, which meant he was beyond angry and well into "collateral damage is just part of the job" territory.

"Okay, new plan," Hazel said, turning in her seat to face him. Her veil shifted around her shoulders like liquid silk. "How fast can this thing go?"

"Fast enough," Bullseye replied, downshifting for another turn. "Why?"

---