“No comment.” Alex shoots neutral aggressive, at the man who has just slid in the seat in front of hers.

  A quick glance at the play pen puts Jo and Ginger at the same place they've been the past half hour. Good.

  Funny enough, the stranger is still sat unmoving in Chris' seat.

  “Usually that is your cue to go away.” she says again, eyes not straying from the children's position.

  The man rears back in surprise. “Oh, you were talking to me?”

  “You're only seating in Chris' seat, which is directly in front of me.” She injects a healthy dose of sarcasm into the sentence, eyes still averted.

  “Well don't blame me, you are looking elsewhere. Also I'm not here for a comment, so.”

  Alex reluctantly tears her eyes away from the play pen to assess her guest. Chiseled features, muscles, cheap suit and cheap hair product. If he wasn't one of the rundown tabloid journalists this place was currently crawling with, what did he want then?

  He slaps a hand to the table, lifting his palm to reveal a really nice vintage ring. And it is Alex's turn to rear back in warranted alarm. What on Earth?

  “Listen--” If her voice wavers a bit, one can't exactly blame her.

  “There is a bounty on your head.”

  Her synapses fire a mile a minute. Chris would definitely not appreciate a botched marriage proposal at this nice event and ... what was that about a bounty?

  “Excuse me?”

  “A bounty.” The man enunciates, as if the word is explanation enough. It is not, and he must see it on her face because he continues. “A coven hired me to kill you.”

  “Oh, thank God!” Alex breathes a sigh of relief. Eyes flicking to quickly catalog the position of the girls - they're at the indoor bouncy thing now - before returning gratefully to her assumed fiancé gratefully turned bounty hunter.

  “I've never had a reaction to assured certain death go like that.” The man says bemused.

  “The ring.” She gestures to the bauble still situated on the table. “I thought-- nevermind. So you're here to kill me?”

  The man cocks his head to the side a bit, “I'm thinking about it.”

  “You probably shouldn't have announced it before making your mind up then.” She gestures a waiter over and orders a drink, her companion declining politely when she inclines her head to him in question.

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  The waiter leaves and Alex stares at the man who looks painfully deep in thought, the ring is still on the table, and it is unnerving, Alex really can't stop herself.

  “I'm sorry,” she says, and the man snaps out of his daydream, “Of what use is the ring exactly?”

  The man looks insulted, and Alex retraces her words to see if she has been accidentally rude somewhere. She hasn't.

  “I'm a hunter.” The man says.

  “Good for you?”

  “It's been in my family for generations, the ring is our family crest?” He says, “You've somehow managed to annoy a coven, who in turn hired my services. Surely you have met a hunter before?”

  “Of course I have.” She says. “Never had any of them slap their family jewels on the table before, though.”

  The man glares at her with exasperated amusement, his lips quivering. He finally loses the fight against his smile, when Alex laughs heartily at her joke.

  They sit in silence, Alex sipping at the juice box the waiter brings back for her, to the continued amusement of the man.

  “So have you decided or not?” She says, her obnoxious sipping dialed up to a 10.

  The man sighs, scrutinizing Alex for a second longer, “Not. I'm turning it down.” He frowns, “Of course this means a refund.”

  Alex nods in sympathy, “Was it the joke or the juice box?”

  “It was the panic, from when you thought I was about to propose.” He says.

  Alex absolutely doesn't flush. She thought she had recovered rather gracefully. “Oh, you caught that didn't you?”

  “I wouldn't be very good at my job if I didn't.” The man responds, “I try to not kill people I find … stimulating.”

  Alex scoffs, “If it's any consolation, you'd have failed anyway.”

  “Hopefully we get to test that theory someday.” The man says, swiping his ring from the table and pocketing it.

  “Looking forward to it.” Alex raises her juice box in toast.

  “Do try to stay away from Viktor's coven,” he warns, standing to button his jacket. “Their offensive spells are mostly outdated, but they are very creepy.” he shudders to punctuate the sentence.

  “I'll try my best.”

  With a courteous bow, the man pivots on his heels, “Until next time then Alexandria Jordan.” He throws over his shoulder before sashaying into the crowd.

  “That was smooth as hell.”

  Alex jumps a little at the voice behind her, letting out a breath when it turns out to be Chris.

  “Have you been back there all this time?” she queries.

  “It's not like I had a seat to wait in, now did I?” Chris gives the chair a little wiggle to emphasize his point, before sliding gracefully into it. Crossing his legs and staring Alex down. “He seemed nice … suave … sexy.”

  “He was here to kill me.”

  “His suit was cheap as hell. What?”

  Alex grins at Chris, shaking the empty juice box at her ear with a childish pout.

  “I'm sorry, kill you?” Chris leans in closer.

  “Don't worry, I talked him out of it. It's Viktor we have to worry about now.” Alex tosses the empty juice box, perfectly slam dunking it in a trash can 6 feet away. Pity no one saw that.

  “Alex.” Chris growls.

  “I'll talk to him.” She relents. “Nicely.” She adds, when his scowl doesn't lessen up.

  “And no bloodshed for God's sake, kids live in our house now!” He clench-whispers in that way only he knows how. “You need to set your priorities straight.” He wags a reprimanding finger at her.

  Alex opens her mouth to retort, when Jo rams into her at what must be light speed, Alex barely keeping from tumbling from her chair in a bid to steady her.

  “Alex, I need to use the bathroom!” She does a little adorable wiggle, face scrunched up in concentration.

  “Of course.” Alex says, bounding to her feet. “Chris, you're on Ginger duty.” She inclines her head at where the two year old sits, hands mashed in a mixture of various colors of finger paint.

  Chris shudders at the sight, whining sadly at the thought of what is going to be the loss of yet another expensive outfit.

  “Alex, nooooow.“ Jo urges.

  Alex smirks at Chris smugly, before exiting with Jo, to the restrooms.