Clovis Honeybun stood in the shadows by the terminal door and watched people file onto Bus 86159 to Las Vegas. He’d been there for over an hour and hadn’t seen a guy matching the description he’d been given. The bus was due to leave at 10:10 PM, just moments away.

The late Spring weather was unseasonably cold, turning his breath to mist and making him shrug more deeply into his coat. Clovis rubbed his hands together, musing that the weather for the coming weekend was supposed to be in the eighties.

Weather whiplash. Welcome to Indiana.

A door at the side of the tan, metal-sided building opened and a big man wearing the light gray shirt and khaki pants of a driver’s uniform came out, carrying a Styrofoam cup and talking on a cell phone. The driver had ebony skin and a bristly jawline that was covered in a tidy beard, except for a thin, jagged line where a scar bisected it. He headed for the Vegas bus.

Clovis touched his earpiece. “The bus is about to leave and the target hasn’t shown up.” He straightened away from the wall, scanning the area one last time. “Are you sure your information was correct?”

The tiny electric transmission device remained silent for a moment and then Alf’s voice barked into Clovis’s ear. “We thought it was, but apparently not. Okay, bring it in.”

“Roger that, bro.” Clovis headed for the door into the bus terminal, stopping as it flew open. He stepped back to let a mismatched couple exit the terminal.

By habit, he assessed them as they moved on by.

The woman looked to be in her late twenties. She was pretty with curly black hair framing a small face. The woman’s chin was delicate and her eyes were a light brown. She wore a black, leather jacket over a lacy knit shirt and black jeans that hugged her long legs and rested just above slender ankles. Her tiny feet were covered in brightly colored sneakers.

She wore large, gold hoops through delicate earlobes and chewed her gum rapidly, cracking it loudly as she lifted her gaze toward Clovis. Her intelligent, brown gaze fixed on Clovis for a moment, held, and then swung dismissively away.

Clovis felt the sting of that casual disregard in the center of his gut.

The guy she was with was a cocky punk, probably in his early twenties. He was wearing oversized jeans that hung too low on his hips. Black and white plaid boxers stuck out the top. He held her close with an arm around her neck, more like a choke hold than an affectionate embrace, and glared at Clovis as he shuffled past.

The guy wore a canvas work jacket, the sleeves of which had been cut off, and both of his arms were covered in colorful tats. A tattered, dirty Colts hat sat sideways on his head, showing a close-cut cap of thick dark hair beneath.

Clovis was so distracted wondering why a woman like her would be with a punk like him, it took him a beat to notice the guy fit the description of the man they were looking for.

He started after them, speaking softly. “Alf, I’m getting on the bus. I think our guy just showed up.”

“What? Wait a minute, Clovis. That wasn’t part of the deal. Your backup has already left.”

The couple had reached the bus. The woman climbed inside first, handing their tickets to the driver. Clovis stopped, bent down and pretended to tie his boots as the guy turned back, sliding a hostile gaze over him. “Six feet tall, give or take an inch, dark brown hair and eyes. Dual sleeves. It could be our guy, Alf.”

“Just give Phillips and Dael a couple minutes to get back there. Stall the driver.”

Clovis straightened as the young thug stepped into the bus behind his pretty girlfriend. “That would be a large negative, bro. They guy’s suspicious. If I stall he’ll bolt. Catch up to me at the first stop.”

“Clovis! Don’t get on that bu…”

Clovis pulled the ear bud out of his ear and dropped it in a trash container as he walked past. He stepped inside the bus and smiled at the driver. “Hey man. I didn’t have time to buy a ticket. Can I just pay you cash?”

The driver looked past Clovis to the empty asphalt beyond the open door. “You don’t have any luggage?”

Clovis pulled three hundred dollar bills out of his wallet and handed them to the driver. “Keep the change. I lost my luggage in a car fire.” He slid his gaze over the other occupants of the bus, looking for the target. He found the couple two-thirds of the way back. The guy had his head resting on the seat already, his hat pulled low over his eyes.

The woman’s gaze was fixed on Clovis, a slight frown marring her delicate features.

“Buddy?”

Clovis’s gaze snapped around, realizing the driver had been talking to him. “Yeah, sorry. I’m tired. I keep zonin’ out.” Clovis laughed. His gaze slid back toward the woman.

The driver didn’t smile. In fact his gaze was slightly hostile as he handed Clovis a receipt. “Take a seat so we can get moving.”

Clovis inclined his head. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

###

Something about the tall blond god with the square jaw and the intense blue-gray gaze made Emma uncomfortable. Her instincts told her he was going to be trouble.

All kinds of it.

He was way too comfortable with himself, too self-assured, and he had an assessing way of looking at her that screamed cop. Though the close-cropped red-blond hair and ramrod straight carriage looked more like military.

He flicked her a glance as he started up the aisle and she barely resisted the urge to look quickly away. She held his gaze instead, daring him to cross the invisible line she placed between her and most people. Despite her cool glance. He didn’t look away. In fact his sexy lips curved upward slightly, just enough to let her know he wasn’t put off by her demeanor.

Emma frowned. She didn’t like the way his gaze slipped over her, hot and soft, before flicking quickly over the man sitting next to her.

In her line of work, Emma Banks had gotten good at reading people. She read body language like words on a page. And the man working his way down the bus aisle, his muscular bulk barely fitting between the seats, was just a little too interested in her and Shawn.

He slipped into an open bank of seats across the aisle and up a couple from Emma and turned toward the window, seemingly tuning out everyone else in the bus.

Emma wasn’t fooled. His broad shoulders were stiff and square under the dark green of his coat. His neck was rigid, his jaw tight.

She’d lay odds he wasn’t looking outside as they pulled away from the bus station and drove along debris-strewn streets toward Highway 70. He was checking out the other passengers in the bus through their reflections in the glass.

Emma knew this without question. Because it was exactly what she would do. She shifted in her seat, tucking her oversized bag between her and the window.

“Sit still, bitch,” Shawn grumbled. “Can’t ya’ll see I’m tryin’ to sleep here.”

Emma shot him a look but didn’t respond. She was used to his nasty mouth and surly treatment. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t put up with before. And the last thing she wanted to do in that bus was draw attention.

But when she looked up, Emma met a hostile blue-gray gaze across the bus and her own eyes widened at the look of rage on the blond god’s face. That time she did jerk her gaze away. He’d caught her off guard. And she didn’t have any idea what to do with the open hostility she’d seen in that sexy gaze.