Heart Song Anthology by Carolyn Faulkner (summer reads txt) 📗

this living? So terrified by what could happen that we don’t do anything?”

“Still alive,” Asher said stiffly.

“Well, I want to feel alive so I am going after this guy unless I discover him innocent.” She started towards the door, her hands jammed into her pockets to keep them warm in the frigid outside air.

“How about you take the night and think on it?” Asher suggested quickly.

Cora turned back to him, her eyes flitting up and down him suspiciously. “Nothing is going to change my mind.”

“Woman, sit down or I’ll make it so you can’t for a week,” Asher commanded.

Cora’s eyebrow quirked, her chin dipping saucily. “Okay, what’s going on? You seem on edge which is odd for you.”

“I want you to be careful and–”

“I’m always careful,” Cora interrupted.

“You’re never careful.”

“Even as damaged as I am from Krone, I can still handle myself.”

She watched Asher’s throat bob as he swallowed. Krone’s name still made him uncomfortable, which made Cora feel a little guilty for bringing him up, but she also knew Asher could never argue against her once he was mentioned. Asher blamed himself for what Krone had done to her, she knew it and so she used it... but only a little.

“I’m going to the hotel to do some digging, you can come if you feel like you need to protect me.”

Asher made a show of considering this, before he sat down and shook his head. “The two of us together will definitely draw more attention. Besides, you seem like you need to do this on your own.”

Cora nodded. “I need to prove to myself that I still can.”

She and Asher stared at each other for a few moments, just weighing what this decision meant and what could possibly happen because of it. Then she finally left and once the door had closed behind her, Asher groaned.

Dammit. He had not expected her to declare she was going after him so soon. He thought he at least had another day before she started gearing up to take down a criminal. Asher had known she wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation eventually, because even with the fear crushing in on her, she was always going to be the badass bounty hunter he had come to love. He’d just thought there would be more of a conflict within her, but he had been foolish to think so. She always went after the danger immediately.

“Well I guess it can’t be helped,” he grumbled as he got to his feet to follow her to the hotel. It was a day early, but he supposed he could let her catch him and they could enjoy her Valentine’s Day utopia straight through into the dawn of the day itself.

7

Valentine’s Utopia

When she had lived in Miami she had rocked some truly short, flowing dresses that went with the Miami atmosphere. Because no one would instantly take her for a bounty hunter, or even a threat, those colorful dresses gave her an edge. No one saw her coming until she was there, and taking them down to the station.

Now in Denmark in the middle of February, the weather was less than ideal for wearing skimpy little dresses, so Cora had to get creative.

It was a common misconception to believe that you could just walk up to someone and start asking them questions, when in reality, if you try to grill them for answers they lock up faster than the state penitentiary after a riot. No, she had to have a lot more tact than that to get answers. She had to finesse them. Made her miss the days bounty hunters could bind someone to a chair and refuse to release them until they talked. Simpler times.

Now she had to invest in a disguise, one that encouraged trust in some unsuspecting witness, something like a pregnancy belly shoved under her winter coat. She could put that on and walk with a hobble and suddenly everyone would want to talk to her. Of course, they’d want to talk about the upcoming delivery of her imaginary child, but they’d be more responsive when she slipped a few questions in there about possible suspects.

The fake pregnancy belly cost her no more than twenty dollars, and the fake glasses she put on were barely a dollar at a tourist stand. All in all, she was pleased that her disguise fell into her budget so well. She approached the hotel with a fat belly, fake hobble, and shopping bags weighed down with rocks to ensure one of the staff noticed her quickly and rushed to her aid.

The Hotel D’Angleterre was extravagant with lace embroidery, satin curtains extending all the way to the floor, and everything was in white for Danish Valentine’s Day. Cora glanced around, puzzled even further by the fancy atmosphere, as it was not at all what she would associate with the person she was looking for. Or the type of hotel which would have a logo written on a ball cap.

“Ma’am?” asked a short, stout woman in a thick Danish accent, as she approached the fake pregnant woman struggling with heavy shopping bags. Her name tag read, “Greta.”

“Hello,” Cora breathed, slightly exasperated. “I am just an absolute mess; do you work here?”

“Ya, can I be of assistance?” With some concern, Greta reached for the bags.

“What?” Cora asked, being sure to look extra dumbfounded – just a ditzy pregnant woman, lost in a massive hotel.

“Heavy lifting no good for your condition, eh?” Greta explained as she managed to grab a few of the bags. The rocks rattled slightly inside the shopping bags but neither woman paid the sound any mind.

“Oh, thank you!” Cora placed her hand to her belly to really sell the “oh God, I am so pregnant and achy and miserable,” act.

Greta followed her hand to her extended stomach. “Boy or gal?”

“Boy, we’re calling him Victor.”

“Victor! Very strong name,” she complimented, nodding her approval, then looked down at the shopping bags she now held for Cora.

“I apologize, but I