Chapter 2 - Delilah
Boone and Delilah arrived at the outskirts of Cheyenne almost simultaneously. Boone could only sigh in despair as they both parked at the motel at the edge of town. Delilah was the only other bounty hunter in the area who could capture fugitives as quickly and efficiently as Boone. She too was a legend. Boone gazed at Delilah as she exited her golden colored high-end SUV. Delilah wore her standard outfit; black jeans and boots, black leather gloves, and a long black leather duster. Delilah had a black handled hunting knife strapped to her thigh and wore a medicine pouch around her neck. Her national origin was unclear. Her complexion gave hints of Latina or Native American. Her hair was medium brown worn in a single braid with a few soft wavy strands framing her face. Her eyes were a pale icy blue, nearly devoid of color. Her accent seemed to be French, or maybe Cajun. But it was so faint, no one knew for sure, and she would never reveal the truth. The medicine pouch only added to the mystery. Some said Delilah was magical, maybe a witch.
Delilah was beautiful. She was far too beautiful to be a bounty hunter. Delilah was tall with long shapely legs that went to her shoulders. Standing nearly 5 foot 10, she wore knee high leather boots with a two-inch chunky heel to bring her height just shy of six foot. She joked that she liked to look down at the degenerates she captured. She was a natural beauty and a natural tracker. The only makeup she wore was bright red lipstick and matching red fingernail polish. And like Boone she was a loner, private and mysterious. Delilah loved the chase and the money.
Boone chuckled as Delilah stared back at him with a familiar smile. She winked and laughed as if to say she was happy to see him.
“I guess we are hunting the same guy again,” Boone laughed.
“It seems so,” Delilah smirked.
“I haven’t seen ya in a few months. I was starting to think you gave up the business.”
“Not by a long shot. I took a long vacation and went home to visit my family. But now I am back,” Delilah smiled as if she had a secret.
“Family? Where did you go?” Boone asked, hoping to learn anything about Delilah.
“Good try, Boone,” Delilah said smugly with raised brows. She knew she could never reveal who or what she was. The mystery would have to continue being a mystery another day, maybe another lifetime.
“Sorry, I had to try. You are always the private one,” Boone shrugged. “So are you after Walters?”
“Yep,” Delilah replied with a grin. “There is a big bounty on this one; serial killer. He killed ten girls in a sorority house back in Wisconsin. This one is pure money; a cool million.”
“Yep. I get him, and I can retire for a few months; at least until spring.”
“Not if I get him first,” Delilah said, filled with swagger and resolution as she pulled her coat around her tiny waist to battle the cold arctic air already settling in the area. “I do not like the cold any more than you do.”
“Sounds like a challenge,” Boone chuckled again as he shoved his hunting knife into his boot and slid a set of flex cuffs into his back pocket.
“Loser buys dinner?” Delilah suggested with arrogance and egging Boone on.
“And beer,” Boone added playing along.
“You are on!” Delilah called out and glanced around. Moments later she was quickly walking back out of town and onto a local side road.
Boone lifted his head towards the sky and took a deep breath. He could smell the adrenaline of a man on the run. Boone could smell the blood of the ten young innocent girls Walters had killed. He locked his SUV and quickly headed in the same direction as Delilah.
It took only a minute for Boone to catch up with Delilah. “Are you following me?” Delilah asked in frustration sensing Boone just steps behind her.
“Nope,” Boone replied as he picked up his pace and was now beside Delilah. “Get ready to buy me dinner, though. And I am hungry. I am thinking a gigantic steak and lots of beer.”
Delilah did not respond but kept walking towards her destination and her prey. Barring any major complications, she knew she would have Walters in custody within minutes. But Delilah had to get to him before Boone. She knew Boone had the ability to win the bet, but she wanted the paycheck just as bad as he did. She would be damned if she were going to let him win. Her dignity was at stake, and there was no way in hell she was going to pay for his dinner and especially not beer. Delilah liked wine, sweet red wine. Delilah started walking quicker.
“Are we going to do this together or separately?” Boone finally asked as he realized Delilah could very well snag his bounty out from under him.
“You are on your own baby,” Delilah sneered through her ruby red painted lips. Boone gasped for a moment and stopped dead in his tracks. With Delilah’s indiscernible accent, he swore she had just called him Bee'ee'. It was the nickname his Arapaho grandmother always called him. It was a term of endearment she used because of the reddish color shade of his dark blonde hair.
Boone realized Delilah was closing in on Walters and shook himself back to reality. Already several yards ahead of him, Boone had to run to catch up with Delilah. “Oh hell no,” Boone sneered as he stepped beside Delilah.
Both Boone and Delilah seemed to know exactly where to find Carl Walters, but neither revealed how they knew. Remaining silent they neared the property of Ethel and Martin Kruger. Both remained vigilant as they looked around, Delilah’s eyes constantly scanning the area. Boone with his head slightly angled to the sky trying to ascertain how many humans were nearby. Then he listened intently for heartbeats. He needed to know how many people were inside the house. From the road, he could only hear two.
Delilah ruminated at the rusted metal mailbox barely standing near the road at the beginning of the drive. The U.S. Post Office had gone defunct three years prior in 2020. From the road, the house was barely visible. The driveway curved slightly, and numerous mature maple trees dotted the yard. Sitting off the road of a five-acre lot, the house was well hidden from view. It was a good place for Walters to hide.
Boone and Delilah looked for the best route to approach the house. If Walters was in the farm house and had taken hostages, they did not want to rush in with guns blazing.
Ironically, Delilah did not carry a gun. Boone owned one but rarely removed it from the lock box in his SUV. He detested firearms. And to date, he never had a need to use one.
Delilah motioned to a detached wooden garage to the right of the house. It would provide cover and concealment while determining their next move. Running as quietly as they could, they traversed the entrance to the driveway and past the open area near the road. Once hidden again by trees and shrubs they quickly and covertly made their way to the far side of the garage.
Both generally worked alone, and Boone slowed his stride to disguise how fast he could run but when Delilah ran in front of him, he picked up the pace and matched her step for step. Both smiled reaching the side of the garage and neither out of breath. Both fought the urge to laugh. Delilah was surprised to see Boone smile. He rarely did. Delilah stared, wanting to ingrain the image of a happy Boone into her memory. She was enthralled by how handsome he was, especially when his green eyes lit up when he smiled.
Boone was instantly conscious of Delilah’s stare and looked away. He held his index finger to his lips and moved to the corner of the nearly dilapidated structure. Boone glanced towards the early twentieth-century farm house to ensure their arrival had not been detected. When he saw no movement near any of the black shutter-framed windows, he gave Delilah a thumbs-up.
Moving back to where Delilah was standing, Boone sat down on the ground with his back against the peeling white wall of the garage. He knew both he and Delilah wanted to capture Walters. But would they fight for the bounty or would they work together and split the reward? As if reading Boone’s mind, Delilah sat down a few feet away from Boone. The silence was almost deafening as they looked out at what used to be a field of feed gra
ss. It was nearly wintertime in Wyoming, and the grass had been harvested and sold months ago.
“This isn’t our standard grab and bag,” Boone finally sighed. “Normally, I would be racing you for the cuffs.”
“And I would win,” Delilah chuckled as she continued looking towards the horizon. She was enthralled with the way the golden sea of cut grass glowed in contrast to the bright blue sky.
“Only half the time,” Boone refuted.
“I cannot let you starve,” Delilah teased as if she had let him beat her to the prize once or twice.
Boone ignored the comment and decided to broker a temporary arrangement. “I guess it is going to take both of us to catch this bastard.”
“How many do you think are in there?” Delilah asked.
“Two, maybe three,” Boone answered not trying to give away his secret.
“It is still early in the day. Should we rush in or wait until dark?”
“Did you pack a lunch?” Boone asked and then looked at the horizon. “It is a perfect place for a picnic.”
“Sarcasm or humor?” Delilah asked while looking towards Boone with her brows arched.
“A bit of both” Boone replied with a smirk. “But seriously, do you think will we make it until dark without food, water, or a bathroom?” Boone had not planned on spending the day waiting for Walters. His original plan was to barge in, take down Walters and be done by lunch time. But partnering with Delilah would slow him down. He would need to hide his supernatural abilities. He would have to act as if he were a mere human.
“At least it is a warm, dry day,” Delilah smiled. And then they became silent as both thought about how to capture Walters as quickly and quietly as they could without revealing their secrets to each other. Delilah had secrets of her own.
Boone knew he could overpower Walters. He was aware that his supernatural strength and speed put him at an advantage over the mass murderer. Boone knew he could erase the terrific horrors of the kidnapping from the memories of the Krugers. And if they were injured, he could heal them. After a short nap, the couple would awaken whole and continue their day as if nothing had transpired.
But with Delilah at his side, it became complicated. He would have to restrain his powers and because of it, someone could get hurt. If they were going to partner up, they would need to come up with a plan. Of course, if it was a good plan Boone was confident it would be executed flawlessly. It just needed to be a good one.
“You really like this type of work,” Boone stated as a question to Delilah hoping to learn more about her.
“I do.”
“Do you do it for the money?”
“The money is good, but I do it because I am good at it,” Delilah refuted with a smile. “You know you are my biggest competition.”
Boone chuckled. “Back at ya.” He tried not to stare at the beautiful woman sitting next to him. She was far too beautiful to be a bounty hunter. He found himself captivated.
Smiling, they relaxed against the garage and stared towards the welcomed warmth of the sun. After a few minutes, Boone broke the silence. “Front door or back?” he asked succinctly.
“I could approach from the front and pretend my car broke down on the road. Play the helpless female card. Pretend to be a damsel in distress.”
Boone had to stifle himself from laughing out loud. “You helpless? Hell woman, you are nearly as tall as me and in this outfit, you scream ‘I am gonna kick your ass into the middle of next week.'”
Delilah chuckled. “I do dress for intimidation. Where is a dainty sundress when you need one?”
“And how do you run in those boots? What are those? Three-inch heels?”
“Two inches,” Delilah quickly refuted looking down to her books. “And years of practice,” Delilah added as she smugly smirked. Delilah knew any woman worth her weight in salt could run in a pair of heels just as well as a pair of sneakers. She was not one of those helpless females in a horror movie which ran through the woods from the big, bad monster while wearing nothing but a towel and fell to the ground every three feet.
“At least ten years that I know of. You and I have chased after the same fugitives for nearly a decade now.”
“Has it been that long? Wow! And today is the first time we have actually talked to one another.”
“Sorry. I did not have a chance to stop and chat while you were trying to steal my paycheck.”
Delilah glared at Boone for a moment. “We are about one for one on apprehensions. I am sure you are not hurting for money unless you are gambling it all away.”
Boone chuckled to himself and smiled. If she only knew how he lived. She did not know he saved almost every dollar he earned. “So I guess we will be splitting this paycheck.”
“I guess so,” Delilah nodded. “This looks like a two person grab.”
“Let’s see what we can learn about Mr. and Mrs. Kruger. Do we have one or two hostages?” Boone suggested. When they initially arrived, Boone could only hear two heartbeats, but now he thought he heard a third one; a third faint one. Both pulled out their mini-tablets and turned them on.
“Ethel and Martin,” Delilah announced. “Elderly, both in their eighties.”
“It says here Mr. Kruger is a retired police detective. I hope he did not try to play the hero,” Boone added. His level of dread was beginning to rise. Boone suspected the third but faint heartbeat belonged to Mr. Kruger.
Delilah’s fear was piquing as well. “I hope he does not have an arsenal of weapons in the house.” She was afraid Walters would have a cache of weapons at his disposal. She was afraid Walters would use them to defend his misappropriated fortress.
“We can assume at least one. Probably his service revolver,” Boone deduced. “But let me check gun sales in the area.”
“Already on it,” Delilah announced as she typed on the screen of her tablet. “It looks like he has a couple of handguns and a high-powered rifle with an infrared scope.”
“Well, that puts a kink in our grab and go,” Boone frowned.
“Ya think?” Delilah smirked sarcastically.
“We will just have to be fast,” Boone sneered with a shrug. He knew he could run fast. He just hoped Delilah could run as fast as she had earlier.
“I will take the front door. Give me a moment to get myself situated,” Delilah advised as she stood. Taking a gold colored piece of thin rope out of her coat pocket she slid it into the back pocket of her black jeans. Then she removed her long leather coat.
“Too bulky for this mission,” she shrugged. But once she removed the coat she realized how deceiving the warmth of the sun was. Boone stared in awe. Delilah’s arms and shoulders were toned and muscular. Her short-sleeved top showed every perfect curve of her torso. Then he realized she was cold.
“Put your coat back on,” Boone advised. “I have an idea,” he added as he pulled his hunting knife out of his boot. Delilah’s leather duster was form-fitting down to the waist, then it flared out, with no buttons to allow ease of movement while walking.
Delilah’s eyes opened wide. “Oh hell no,” she nearly screamed in protest, quickly lowering her voice to a whisper.
“I will buy you a new one. But I will be damned if your coat slows us down or shatters our plan.”
“It was custom made,” she protested. “It is one of a kind.”
“Then I will get you another custom made coat,” Boone snarled through clenched teeth as he approached Delilah with a knife out before him.
Delilah knew Boone was right. Her favorite coat would be a hindrance. She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath and nodded ever so slightly. She fought the tears which threatened to spill as Boone quickly but carefully cut the duster portion of her coat off.
“It is not so bad,” he announced as he finished and let the yards of black leather fall to the ground.
Delilah opened her eyes which were filled with grief. “I will send y
ou the bill,” she tried to joke through her sorrow.
“So what is with the rope?” Boone asked trying to change the subject. “Everyone else uses flex cuffs, everyone but you.”
“It is lightweight but just as strong. My father wove it for me,” Delilah replied and then realized she had said too much.
“Your father weaves rope?”
Delilah did not reply only raising her brow and shrugging.
“I will take off for the side of the house and make my way to the back door,” Boone advised.
“I will attempt the damsel in distress ruse. After whoever answers the door, you break in from the back, and I will push my way in through the front. We will tackle Walters and take him down.”
“Then we will call for an ambulance for the Krugers and the local authorities to haul Walters to the pokey.” Boone knew he would not be able to heal their wounds or push the memory from their minds with Delilah with him.
“Works for me,” Delilah nodded.
“Just one more thing. Wait here.” Boone eased his way to the far side of the garage and returned seconds later. He raised his fingers to Delilah’s face and smudged it with some old used motor oil.
“What the hell?” Delilah scowled and ready to pounce in retaliation.
“Now you look like your car broke down,” Boone smirked. He was having too much fun at Delilah’s expense.
“Boone, I am going to kick your ass when this is over.”
“Add a facial to my tab,” Boone laughed with delight.
“You keep this up, and your half of the reward will be mine before the day is done.”
Boone pondered for a moment and smirked. “And it is going to be a long day.”
Boone smiled and moved back to the corner edge of the garage. He looked back over his shoulder at Delilah and smiled again. “Good luck, sweet damsel.” And then he starting running towards the house.
When Boone reached the side of the house, he stopped and watched for Delilah to start her approach to the farmhouse style porch and the front door. He noticed Delilah had unbraided her hair, letting it fall across her shoulders in soft curls. Delilah had mussed her hair to add to the stranded motorist deception. She pretended to be tired and out of breath. Boone nodded in approval. Even through the smudged oil on her face, she was stunning.
Then Boone heard his worst fear. Without a warning, he ran towards Delilah. Not at human speed but supernatural speed. Boone forcefully knocked Delilah to the ground. But it was too late.
“Damn it, that hurts,” Delilah screamed from beneath Boone’s body which was now atop of hers.
“Sorry. I did not mean to crush you,” Boone apologized.
“Not you stupid, the bullet. That S-O-B shot me.” Delilah's tone was angry. She was livid.
Boone stayed atop of Delilah afraid to move. He was acting as her shield; her human shield.
“Where did you get hit?” Boone asked filled with concern.
“My thigh. This is all your fault. You cut my coat.”
“Really? You are going to blame me for getting shot?” Boone seethed agitatedly.
“If my father were here, he would blast you all the way to Valhalla,” Delilah exclaimed still angry.
“Look who’s so tough now! Just like a girl to go crying for her daddy.”
“And look at my jeans. They are ruined.”
“Oh-hell-no,” Boone rebutted. “I am not paying for those. Stop whining woman. I am fresh out of cheese.” His impression of Delilah being a strong independent woman was quickly evaporating.
Delilah was pissed. “I did not sign up for this.”
“Well, either Walters is a bad shot, or that was just a warning,” Boone thought aloud.
“And you brought a knife to a gun fight. Now what?”
“We get you out of here, and we bring in the big guns,” Boone replied almost nonchalantly.
Boone and Delilah inched out of the clearing; staying as low to the ground as possible. Boone made sure he stayed between Delilah and the house to protect her from their fugitive who was now known to be both dangerous and armed. Moving little by little, it seemed as if they would never make their way to cover. Each inch, each foot was excruciating for Delilah. Boone wished she could move faster, but he did not rush her. He remained calm and silent allowing Delilah to set the pace.
As they reached the coppice, Boone jumped up and then lifted Delilah into his arms. He cradled her while he quickly ran away from the farm house and Walters. Once out of sight of the house, Boone slowed to a walk. He looked down at Delilah, who even through her closed eyes silently cried. She held tightly onto Boone, both arms around his neck, her anguished face firmly against his shoulder. Boone could feel her warm tears soaking through his shirt onto his skin.
“Let’s take a look at your leg,” Boone suggested his voice filled with care; almost admiration. He knew she was in pain, lots of pain, yet she did not cry openly or hysterically. She was brave. He gently put Delilah onto the dry but cold ground and knelt beside her. Half sitting, Delilah winced as Boone’s finger softly brushed the edge of the hole in Delilah’s favorite jeans and her outer thigh.
“Is there an exit wound?” Delilah asked trying to keep her tone calm and collected. She could not determine where the burning in her leg began and ended.
“Roll over,” Boone smiled almost laughing as he looked at the bullet wound. “It is just a flesh wound. He only grazed you.”
“Then why am I in so much pain? It feels like my leg is on fire,” Delilah argued.
“I have never been shot, but I have heard it hurts like hell,” Boone shrugged.
“Daddy is going to hear about this!”
“Daddy? Again, really?” Boone said shaking his head side to side in disbelief.
“It is complicated,” Delilah sighed gruffly.
“Really complicated? Or the ‘you just do not want to tell me’ kind of complicated?” Boone asked filled with suspicion.
“Really complicated,” Delilah replied. “Maybe some other time.”
“Do you have a change of clothes in your SUV?”
Delilah nodded yes.
“I will go back and get my weapon and a pair of pants for you. Close your eyes and relax. I will be back in just a few minutes.” Boone stood and held out his hand.
“No thanks. I think I am just going to lie here,” Delilah rebutted, confused.
“I need the remote to open your truck,” Boone laughed.
“Oh that,” Delilah sighed and wiggled her hand into her jeans pocket and retrieved the remote. “Grab the blue Trez.”
Boone crinkled his eyes. Now he was the one confused. “Trez is a brand of jeans,” Delilah replied to the unasked question. “Screw it, just bring the bag.”
Boone nodded and trotted away. Once out of Delilah’s sight he picked up his gait. Boone hated leaving her alone. Even though they had worked in the same line of business for a decade, he really did not know Delilah. Holding her in his arms while he carried her to safety caused him pause. Her cold, stony facade was just that, a facade. She was a beautiful woman. She was a woman who bled and cried. Seeing Delilah cry made Boone’s knees weak. Her vulnerability softened any previous misconceptions he had about her.
Boone paused half way back to the hotel parking lot. He raised his hand to the spot on his shirt which was still wet from Delilah’s tears. Boone wanted to go back and heal her, to make her whole again. He wanted to take away her pain and her tears. But he continued on his path and started running again.
Delilah lay on the ground and stared at the sky, tears still in her eyes. “Daddy, help me,” she implored. She waited for an answer. Silence.
“Daddy, heal me,” Delilah begged harder. Nothing. Delilah closed her eyes and cried. She cried because of the pain; not the pain from the bullet wound but because of the pain from being abandoned. Delilah felt so alone. She wrapped her arms around herself as she shiver
ed. She felt so cold.
Boone reached the edge of town just minutes later. Spotting a drugstore near the motel, he went there first. Not being human Boone knew nothing about treating human injuries. If Delilah knew the truth, she would already be healing, he thought to himself.
Boone grabbed some large gauze squares and first aid tape and headed to the pharmacy counter. “I need the best antibacterial cream you have. My partner fell and got hurt.” Boone tried to remain as cryptic as possible since he could not tell anyone Delilah had been shot or that a known fugitive was hiding just miles away.
The young male pharmacy assistant looked up at Boone and smiled. “Partner? Are you gay?”
“Do I look gay?” Boone replied, nearly growling and impatient.
“You are mighty pretty.”
“Antibacterial cream,” Boone demanded. “And hurry,” he snarled as he slammed a one hundred dollar bill onto the counter. “And, by the way, my partner is a woman. She is the meanest, toughest, and most beautiful woman this side of the Rockies.”
“Too bad,” the young man cooed as he watched Boone saunter away without getting his change.
Boone shuddered. “It was so much easier working alone,” Boone muttered barely audible.
Boone jogged across the nearly deserted street to the motel parking lot, grabbed Delilah’s bag out of her SUV and jumped into his vehicle. He sped out of town and soon was pulling off the road where he had left Delilah. Boone jumped out and ran to her side. Delilah was laying on her back with silent tears still streaming down her face. She looked so vulnerable and in a lot of pain. It tore Boone’s heart in two.
Hearing Boone beside her, Delilah slowly opened her eyes. “Heal me,” she begged again, this time to Boone.
Boone stared into Delilah’s tormented eyes. He tried to read her mind. Nothing. He needed to know what to do. Should he reveal his secret and help her? Now his eyes were tormented. Boone knelt next to Delilah and gently picked her up and carried her to his SUV. He fought his own tears as Delilah winced with every step he took. Boone fought the urge to lean down and kiss away Delilah’s tears; kiss away her fears.
“I will take care of you,” he whispered his voice hoarse and conflicted.
Delilah whispered her plea again. “Heal me Hooxei Bo’ooneih.”
Boone stopped dead in his tracks, wide-eyed and mouth gaped. No one knew his official Arapaho name - Red Wolf.
“I know what you are,” Delilah confessed while looking into Boone’s emerald green eyes. “I will explain everything after Walters is in custody. Just make the pain go away. Heal me, please heal me.”
Boone could tell by Delilah’s heart rate she was telling the truth. He could tell by her labored breathing she was in a lot of pain. His original intention to palliate the wound vanished. He closed his eyes and nodded. Boone took the last three long strides to the rear of his SUV. Before placing Delilah into the rear of the vehicle, he softly kissed her forehead.
“I do not know how long this will take,” Boone advised.
“I am not going anywhere soon,” Delilah chuckled with her jaw clenched. “Do your worst Hooxei.”
“Wolf,” Boone sighed repeating the English word for Hooxei and then went silent. Boone had never healed a human before. He had never tasted human blood. It frightened him. Would he like the taste? Would it be like a vampire’s addiction to blood? Would he be drawn to it like a drug addict to crack?
Eager for the pain to go away, Delilah reached down and tore open the hole in the leg of her jeans. “Do it already,” Delilah yelled impatiently. “Heal me!”
Boone leaned into the wound. The unusual scent of Delilah’s blood became stronger as he inched closer. Her blood did not smell like animal blood. It did not smell rusty like human blood. It smelled sweet; of sweet wine and honey. Boone closed his eyes in fear. When he felt his own breath bouncing back onto his lips, he extended his tongue and gently licked the wound.
While rough in texture like an animal’s tongue, Boone’s tongue actually felt good. Delilah expected his saliva to be warm but with a cool breeze in the air it had a cooling effect on the burning flesh. Boone’s saliva began to numb her pain instantly. Delilah moaned in relief.
Boone pulled back surprised. “So,” Delilah cooed. “How do I taste?” Delilah asked, her voice almost seductive, calmed by the easing of the pain.
Boone blushed. “Sorry, this is my first time healing a human. You taste sweet, like fresh honey.”
Now it was Delilah’s turn to blush. “Let’s finish this and get Walters. And then I have a long story to tell you.”
Boone was curious, but they had business to attend to before they talked; before Delilah revealed what she knew.
It only took a few more licks for the bleeding to stop. Boone watched as Delilah’s skin regenerated itself and the wound closed. When she was nearly healed, Boone covered Delilah's leg with the antibacterial cream and then a bandage. “Let’s get you into those Trez, grab a bite to eat and then get back to work.”
Delilah was too weak to argue. The thought of a giant cheeseburger and java mocha milkshake topped with whipped cream had quickly permeated her mind and refused to leave. She needed comfort food. She needed to feel whole again.
Boone was already digging through Delilah’s bag looking for her favorite Trez jeans. He was embarrassed as he saw Delilah’s ultra feminine and lacey undergarments in the bag. He blushed again.
“You have never seen a lady’s underwear before?” Delilah laughed.
“Of course, I have,” Boone quickly snapped and turned away. “I have just never touched any before,” he whispered to himself.
“Just hand me the jeans,” Delilah said kindly trying not to make Boone feel any more uncomfortable than he already was. She knew he was already discomfited. Boone tossed her the jeans and kept his back to Delilah to give her privacy. Delilah knew it was because he would feel uneasy seeing her half naked.
“At least help me with the boots,” Delilah asked. “Then you can turn away again.”
Boone made quick time unzipping and removing the black leather boots. He turned his back to Delilah for the second time. Try as she may to get the torn bloody jeans off, she could not. While most of the pain had subsided, Delilah was weak and tired. “Sorry, you are going to have to help,” Delilah exclaimed in despair.
Delilah could see Boone’s chest rise and fall as he inhaled deeply trying to take a calming breath. Reluctantly he turned and faced Delilah. As he pulled the jeans down over her small but curvy hips, he gasped.
Red, what is with this woman and the color red? Boone tried not to stare, but the sight of Delilah’s small see-through lacy panties had him hypnotized. Boone knew the scent of a woman well, but Delilah’s scent was different. It smelled sweet just like the smell of her blood.
“I like red,” Delilah giggled, bringing Boone back to reality. Realizing his faux pas, he immediately closed his eyes as he helped Delilah remove the jeans. Then he turned away again and walked down the road. The vision and scent of Delilah were forever burned into his brain. He needed to relax. He needed to calm himself. This beautiful, mysterious woman had him more nervous than any of the fugitives he had encountered. Never before had a woman affected him like this. It shook him to his core.