Hurley sprang to his feet and vaulted the overturned table. Mitch clamped a hand on his shoulder, but Hurley spun out of his grasp and sprinted into the back room.
Mitch swept aside the bead curtain and charged after his skip.
The mahogany-haired beauty huddled near the fridge on his left. The shock on her delicate face barely registered as Mitch rounded the table and caught Hurley against the counter. The guy twisted away. Lightning quick, Mitch pinned the smaller man against the stove and locked fingers around a wrist. He could kill a man with his bare hands, but lethal moves weren’t allowed. Bounty hunters had to bring a fugitive in alive.
“What is this crap?” Hurley twisted against Mitch’s thumbs, his longish blond hair flying. With more force, Mitch body-slammed the bail skip, twisting a wrist behind his back and pushing aside something heavy on the stove. He reached for the cuffs.
Flame licked at his hand. Mitch shoved the struggling fugitive in the direction of the sink. Hal needed to get over here. Now.
“Let go of him,” the woman yelled. “He can’t hear you.”
“Stay out of the way, lady,” Hal yelled. “Or else—”
“You can’t just come busting in here.” A female hand reached past Mitch and flipped off the burner. “This is a private home.”
“Stand aside, lady.” Hal held up a copy of the bail piece. “This gives us authority to arrest. Recognized by the law.”
Something stung Mitch’s arm. A blade glinted in Hurley’s fist. “Back off.”
Mitch yanked the wrist he held high behind his skip’s back. His fugitive shrieked. “Give it up. I got you beat.”
“You’re hurting him.” The woman again. “Let him go so I can sign to him.”
Mitch barely heard what she said, couldn’t focus—“Ouch.”
Hurley had kicked out with both feet. Now he slipped from Mitch’s grip and dashed outside.
Mitch lurched forward, banging his head on the open door. His boots slipped on some kind of grit and he grabbed for support.
Soft, warm skin slid under his grasp. The most spectacular blue eyes he’d ever seen glared at him, but Mitch held on to her gaze as if to a lifeline.
“Do you mind?” Her low, sultry voice whispered through him.
Mitch blinked and let go of the woman’s slender arm.
“Didn’t you see the skillet?” She waved a hand at the stove. “I’m making dinner.”
“Bon appétit.” Mitch lifted a corner of his mouth, and her pretty face flushed. She stepped away, and he plunged outside after his fugitive.
A spotlight on the patio cast deep shadows into the corners. A dog yipped inside a rear apartment. Big jars with cascading vines standing at either corner were too small to hide behind.
Mitch hugged the corner of the house so as not to present a target. His stupid fixation on the redhead had cost him too much time. Hurley could have already escaped. Or he could be standing only a few feet away in the back entrance alley, his knife ready. Mitch held still, but the shush-shush of someone breathing didn’t carry back to him. Dammit.
He drove a fist into the vinyl siding. An old war injury spread agony across his back, and he swallowed back another curse. Keep looking. Don’t think about failure.
Hal came up behind him. “I’ll check the other side.”
Mitch played his light down the alley. A clump of ferns grew in the elbow of one of the many pipes hugging the old house. Nothing else. No one else. He raced to the street gate and scanned the empty sidewalk.
“I demand an apology for barging into my house.” The redhead stood close behind him, but he hadn’t even heard her creeping up on him.
In the narrow confines, he barely had room to turn around without brushing her, but he managed. Producing more aggro for his shoulder. “If this is not your private alley, you have no jurisdiction. I’m the one being insulted.”
“In-insulted?” She scowled. “How do you figure that?”
Light from the street fell on her pale face and flushed cheeks. He caught a powder-fresh scent. She clutched the sides of a robe together, and he admired her slender neck. Perfect for nuzzling. Not by him. Not now.
His flashlight beam shone down the alley to the swaying leaves of the banana trees at the back of the patio. He stepped forward. She didn’t retreat, and his legs now pressed against hers, making certain body parts grow heavier. “Turn around and go back.” Don’t make me swear like my old sergeant.
“Not until you leave.” Her hand loosened, and she accidentally flashed cleavage. “We can pretend I’m seeing you out. Southern manners and all.”
That accent of hers belonged more to California than to any southern state, but his tightening groin didn’t give a shit. Nor did his resolve. He lowered his voice to a purr. “You really should go back to the patio.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Nothing over there but the garbage cans,” Hal called a moment before his silhouette appeared at the opposite end of the dark alley.
Mitch leaned close to her ear. “If you don’t want Hal searching your house, you need to stop him.”
“But, I…”
“You got him?” Hal started toward them.
“Wait.” Mitch waved his brother back and raised his eyebrows at the female in his way. “We’re coming out.”
She huffed out a breath but spun around. In the lighted patio, Hal glanced from her to Mitch, his mouth turning down. “You missed him.”
For now. The beauty crossed her arms, but Mitch shooed her away. “We’re finished. Go inside.”
He caught his brother’s arm and jerked his head toward the shrubs and banana trees. “The skip might be lurking.”
Hal waded through one side of the garden, Mitch, the other. Their twin beams hit a high brick wall without revealing a soul. Some Quarter landlords embedded broken bottles atop property walls to keep out thieves, but Mitch didn’t see any here. He stowed his light and backtracked to the patio. “Hold the trees away, Hal.”
“I still want an apology.” The female wildcat pounced.
“I told you to go inside.” Mitch judged the height of the barrier. A running leap took him to the top, and he hauled himself up.
“What are you doing?” The woman’s pale face appeared in the shadowed shrubs below.
“Fulfilling your deepest desires.” Mitch smirked. “Like the Southern gentleman I am.”
A multistory masonry house faced the parallel street on the other side. A swimming pool stretched past the converted servants’ quarters on one side of the patio. A soft snick drew his attention to the half-glassed door on the rear of the main house. With no side alleys here, this must serve as the street exit for the rear tenants. Or fugitives coming over this wall.