Kitabı oku: «Dangerous Nights: Tall Dark Defender / Undercover Wife»

Dangerous Nights
Tall Dark Defender
Beth Cornelison
Undercover Wife
Merline Lovelace

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Tall Dark Defender

About the Author

BETH CORNELISON started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelor’s degree in public relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.

Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romantic suspense and has won numerous honours for her work, including a coveted Golden Heart Award in romantic suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, travelling, Peanuts’ Snoopy and spending downtime with her family.

She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 5418, Bossier City, LA 71171, USA, or visit her website at www.bethcornelison.com.

To my wonderful editor, Allison Lyons.

Thanks for all you do!

Chapter 1

The lights weren’t supposed to be off.

Irritation, tinged with a tickle of uneasiness, skittered through Annie Compton. She fumbled in the predawn darkness to jab her key into the lock at Pop’s Diner. Her boss, Peter Hardin, was supposed to have left the outside light on to deter burglars and to illuminate the front door for the employee who opened the diner in the morning. Today, Annie was said employee with the unenviable responsibility of showing up at 5:00 a.m.

She grumbled under her breath as she groped on the shadowed door to locate the lock’s slot. The door moved unexpectedly. Just a fraction of an inch, but enough to catch Annie’s attention. A bolted door shouldn’t have wiggled that much.

Annie pulled the handle, and the heavy glass door swung open. Her pulse spiked. Turning on the front light wasn’t all her boss had neglected when he closed the restaurant last night.

Gritting her teeth, she entered the diner and flipped on the overhead lights. The cold bluish-white glow of the fluorescent bulbs flooded the dining room.

“Hello? Mr. Hardin?” She scanned the empty restaurant cautiously. Listened. Waited. “Is anyone here?”

When she heard nothing, saw no one, she released the breath she held and crossed the floor. Annie stashed her purse behind the lunch counter, wishing she could call grouchy Mr. Hardin on the carpet for his gaffes. Considering her boss had only criticism for her waitressing skills, she figured turnabout was fair play.

She huffed a humorless laugh as she plucked out a coffee filter and dropped it into the brewing basket. The man had left the diner unlocked, for crying out loud! Compared to exposing the restaurant to theft, her forgetting to refill the saltshakers was nothing.

Problem was, neglecting the saltshakers wasn’t her worst mistake. Her gut clenching, she poured a carafe of water into the coffeemaker. She’d made her biggest blunder ever just a few nights before—a royal screwup that Hardin claimed had cost him two hundred thousand dollars. The amount seemed preposterous to her, but her boss insisted that was how much she’d lost him.

Annie’s hands shook as she measured out the coffee grinds. She could never make up for losing Mr. Hardin so much money. She guessed she was lucky she still had her job, lucky he hadn’t beaten her senseless the way Walt would have.

Thoughts of her violent ex-husband sent another shiver down her back. She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms and squared her shoulders. Never again.

If she had to work this dead-end waitress job the rest of her life, barely making ends meet for herself and her two young children, the price was worth her freedom from her abusive marriage. No man would ever hurt her or her children again.

Annie jabbed the power switch, and with a hiss and a waft of rich aroma, the morning java began dripping into the pot.

A glance around the diner showed numerous cleaning jobs that had been ignored at closing last night. She pressed her lips in a taut line of frustration. Perhaps this was part of her boss’s plan to punish her for her colossal and costly mistake three nights earlier. Perhaps she deserved as much.

Two hundred thousand dollars. Acid bit her gut. How could she ever make up for that mistake?

Sighing her resignation, she took a clean rag from the cabinet and headed to the kitchen for a bucket of soapy water to start cleaning tables.

She noticed the foul odor as soon as she stepped through the swinging door from the dining room. Wrinkling her nose, she flipped the lights on and checked for some food item that might have been left out to spoil. But not even rotten milk smelled this bad.

Coupled with the unlocked front door, the putrid scent gave her pause. Too many things seemed off-kilter at the diner this morning.

A ripple of apprehension shimmied through her. Annie hesitated by the main grill, which still sported last night’s grease.

“Mr. Hardin, are you there?” She heard the quiver of fear in her tone and pressed a hand to her swirling stomach. “Hello?”

She took a few baby steps forward, scanning the dirty kitchen. Rounding the industrial-size freezer, she crept into the back hall.

On the floor, a pair of feet jutted through the open door to the manager’s office.

Annie gasped. Dear heavens! Had he fallen? Had a heart attack?

“Mr. Hardin!” she cried, rushing forward.

When she reached the office door, Annie drew up short.

Her breath froze in her lungs. Bile surged to her throat. Black spots danced at the edge of her vision.

Peter Hardin lay in a puddle of blood, his eyes fixed in a blank, sightless stare. Two bullet holes pocked his chest, and a third marred his forehead.

Annie stumbled backward, horror clogging her throat.

Numb, shaking, light-headed, she edged away from her grisly discovery.

Shock and denial finally yielded to terror. A scream wrenched from her throat and echoed in the empty kitchen.

Her boss was dead. Murdered.

And though she hadn’t pulled the trigger, Annie was certain Hardin’s murder was her fault.

Three days earlier

He’d stalked his prey long enough. Time to move in for the kill.

Over the rim of his coffee cup, Jonah Devereaux eyed the rotund, balding man across the Formica table from him.

Martin Farrout.

Everything Jonah had learned to date in his investigation told him Farrout was the muscle of the gambling operation, the gatekeeper. Getting past Farrout, rooting out the players up the chain of command was what the past six months had been about.

“Mark my words. Kansas will go all the way,” Ted Pulliam, one of Farrout’s lackeys, said, jabbing the diner’s table with his finger for emphasis.

Jonah grunted and lowered his coffee. “North Carolina. They’re a powerhouse with a winning legacy to uphold.”

Pulliam scoffed. “All right, Devereaux, put your money where your mouth is.” The wiry man with faded tattoos slapped a Jackson on the table. “Twenty bucks. And I’ll give you five points.”

Jonah schooled his face and divided a bland look between Pulliam and Farrout, sizing them up. Weighing his decision to push his investigation to the next level.

He drained the cold dregs of his coffee and shoved the mug to the end of the table. In seconds, their waitress had snagged the coffeepot and stepped over to refill his cup.

Lifting a hand, Jonah waved her off. “Naw, I’m done, Annie. Thanks anyway.”

“Gentlemen, we close in ten minutes. Can I get you anything else?” the attractive brunette asked as she cleared away the dirty mug.

Sure. I’ll take an order of inside information about the local gambling ring with a side of details on the money-laundering operation I suspect your boss is running. Hold the onions.

If only it were that easy.

Instead, he’d spent months investigating the illegal activities he’d traced to Pop’s Diner, and he still didn’t have the evidence he needed to resolve the case and turn his information over to the local police.

The evidence he needed to give Michael justice.

Pushing aside thoughts of his mentor, Jonah flashed Annie a quick smile. “Just my bill.”

While posing as a paper-mill worker who’d recently moved to the area, Jonah had eaten enough greasy meals at the small diner to send his cholesterol count into the stratosphere—a lesser-known hazard of undercover work that’d take countless hours in the gym to rectify. At least the coffee was good. God knew he’d guzzled enough of the brew at Pop’s to last a lifetime.

But over the weeks, his regular meals at Pop’s had gained him the level of familiarity with the locals he needed to loosen a few tongues and open a door or two. Things were finally beginning to fall into place.

He shifted his gaze to Farrout and pitched his voice low. “I want the real action. Five grand on UNC to win it all.”

Pulliam fell silent and sat back in the booth.

Farrout lifted a thick black eyebrow. One taut second ticked after another, the tension screwing Jonah’s gut into a tight knot. Unflinching, he held the portly man’s stare.

Finally, Farrout narrowed his eyes to slits. “Ten.”

Jonah sighed, pretending to consider the higher stakes. He couldn’t seem too eager or too free with his cash. The working-class stiff he was supposed to be wouldn’t have ten thousand dollars to lose on a careless bet. Not that he had that kind of money to lose, either.

He rubbed his thumb idly on the handle of his spoon and glanced out the plate-glass window to the night-darkened street. “That’s pretty steep.”

Farrout shrugged lazily. “I gotta know if you’re for real or if you’re just wasting my time. First bet is always ten grand, minimum.”

Pulliam twisted his lips into a taunting grin. “How sure are you of UNC now?”

Keeping a stoic face, Jonah drummed his fingers on the table in an intentional display of nerves. “I can go eight now, two more next payday.”

Farrout’s fleshy lips twitched. “Deal.”

Annie returned with separate checks for the three men. When she reached for Farrout’s plate, he grabbed her wrist with his meaty hand and squeezed. “Did I say I was through?”

Wincing, Annie gave Farrout a wide-eyed glance. “I’m sorry. I just thought—”

Fury burned inside Jonah, and he stiffened. “Let go of her.”

The barrel-chested man returned a cold stare. “Butt out, Devereaux.”

Jonah gritted his teeth. “Let. Go.”

Annie’s cheeks had drained of color, and her dark eyes rounded with apprehension.

A muscle jumped in Farrout’s jaw, but he released Annie with an angry thrust. “Watch yourself, Devereaux. I don’t like people sticking their nose where it don’t belong.”

Hell. He didn’t need to blow his investigation by pissing Farrout off. But he damn well wouldn’t sit by and let him rough up a woman, either. He’d done that too often as a kid when his dad was in one of his moods, and the guilt still ate at him.

Annie rubbed her offended wrist and cast a quick, curious glance at Jonah before hurrying back to the lunch counter.

Over the months he’d been working the case, he’d gotten to know all of the waitresses by name. Annie was the most reticent of the waitstaff, but she was also the most intriguing. Though attentive and polite to a fault, she was far less inclined to engage in good-natured banter and flirting the way the other servers did. An air of mystery surrounded her, partly because of her shyness, partly because she wore her silky dark tresses in a style reminiscent of the sultry movie stars of the 1940s—parted on the side with a curtain of hair covering one cheek.

Jonah had caught a glimpse of that hidden cheek once and seen the scars she was concealing. Those scars added to the enigma that was Annie but, in his opinion, didn’t detract from her pretty face. Clearly she thought otherwise, or she wouldn’t work so hard to hide the jagged pink lines.

As Jonah dug his wallet out of his back pocket, Farrout and Pulliam slid out of the booth and sauntered to the counter with their checks.

“Put it on my tab, doll face,” Farrout said, tossing his ticket on the counter and turning to leave.

Pulliam added his bill and clicked his tongue. “Ditto.”

Annie’s brow furrowed, and she shook her head. “But … we don’t—”

The men ignored her as they walked out, chortling to themselves.

From the booth, Jonah seethed over the men’s rudeness. He studied Annie’s crestfallen expression, her drooping shoulders and moue of disgust. She slapped the counter with the rag in her hand and huffed loudly.

When she raised her gaze to him, he quickly shifted his attention to his bill and pulled a twenty out of his wallet. He rose from the bench seat and approached the counter where she wiped up the day’s mess with more vigor than necessary.

Extending the ticket and cash to her, he smiled ruefully. “Keep the change.”

She glanced at the money and frowned. “But all you had was coffee.”

He lifted a shoulder as he returned his wallet to his pocket. “Maybe I want to help your day end on a positive note.”

Annie gaped at him as if she didn’t know what to make of his kindness. As if she’d never encountered generosity before. “But—”

“Annie!” Peter Hardin, the manager of the diner and Jonah’s key suspect in the money-laundering scheme, burst through the swinging kitchen door.

Jonah saw Annie tense as her linebacker-size boss stalked over to her.

“I need you to do an errand for me.” Hardin slapped a bulky tan envelope on the counter.

Annie’s face fell, and she glanced at her watch. “Now? It’s almost midnight.”

Jonah took his time putting on his jacket, unabashedly eavesdropping on the exchange. Annie’s distress around her boss piqued his curiosity.

“Yes, now. This has to be delivered to Fourth Street in the next half hour. It’s extremely important, so don’t be late with it. Guard this envelope with your life.”

Jonah clenched his teeth. Fourth Street was a notoriously bad section of town. This time of night, the area was downright dangerous. What was Hardin thinking, sending a woman on an errand alone in that part of town?

“But—” Annie hesitated, chewing her lip as if debating the wisdom of arguing with her boss. “If it’s so important, why aren’t you delivering it?”

Hardin glared at her. “I have my reasons. You want a job tomorrow, you deliver that package on time. Got it?”

Annie opened and closed her mouth in dismay, then nodded.

Her boss handed her a scrap of paper and hitched his head toward the front door. “That’s the address and the name of the guy you give the package to. Only to him. No one else. Got it? Now, go on. I’ll close up.”

After fishing her purse out from under the counter, Annie tucked the package against her chest with a sigh.

Jonah watched her leave the diner and walk past the parking lot without stopping. He frowned. She didn’t have a car? Walking Fourth Street alone at night could be suicide.

Without giving it a second thought, Jonah fell in step behind Annie. Peter Hardin might not care about his waitress’s safety, but Jonah wasn’t about to let Annie make that delivery unprotected.

Annie’s footsteps reverberated in the dark shadows looming around her. Alone on the downtown street, she clutched the manila envelope to her chest like a shield.

She shouldn’t be here. This part of town was dangerous, especially at this late hour. But how could she refuse her boss’s order? She couldn’t afford to lose her job. She only had a few more minutes left to make Hardin’s delivery, and he had been emphatic about the deadline—and the dire consequences if anything happened to the mysterious contents.

Just make the drop and get out of there. Get home. Get safe.

The sound of her shallow breathing rasped a harsh cadence in the quiet March night, and her heartbeat drummed in her ears like a death knell. She slowed her frantic pace, closing her eyes long enough to gather her composure.

Keep your wits and don’t blow this.

The drop-off address had to be close. She searched for numbers on the buildings, but the dilapidated storefronts and graffiti-decorated buildings bore no identification.

She gritted her teeth. Damn Peter Hardin for forcing her to do this dangerous errand! If she didn’t need her job so much, she’d have told him where to stick his order to do his dirty work. She sighed in disgust, wishing she’d stood up to Hardin.

But she’d always been a pushover. Her ex-husband had known it and taken advantage of that truth.

Squaring her shoulders, Annie kept walking, realizing how this decrepit neighborhood was a reflection of her life. Lonely, scarred and struggling to survive.

She’d had the typical fairy-tale dreams for herself as a girl—love and marriage, happily ever after. Instead she’d found a nightmare—fear and abuse, divorce from a man now serving time for a laundry list of crimes. After six years of unhappiness, at least she was free of Walt. Her job as a waitress at Pop’s Diner barely covered her bills, but her children were safe now. She was safe. That was all that truly mattered.

Yet as she searched for some evidence of where to take the package, she felt anything but safe. A prick of alarm nipped her neck. Though she heard nothing, saw no one, the uneasy sense that someone was following her crawled over her like a cockroach on her skin. She shuddered.

Annie drew a deep breath for courage, her nose filling with the stench of sewage, mildew and despair.

A scuffing noise filtered through the night from an alley just ahead of her. Her steps faltered. Her pulse jumped.

“H-hello?” she called, her voice cracking.

A hulking figure emerged from the black void. The man descended on her before a scream could form in her throat. He wrapped arms of steel around her, and a fleshy palm covered her nose and mouth. Lifting her as if she weighed nothing, her attacker pulled her into the dark alley and slammed her against a brick wall.

The collision knocked the air from her lungs. Shock and fear froze her limbs.

No! her brain screamed. Not again! Slow-motion images of her past flickered before her mind’s eye.

“You call this slop dinner?” Walt’s hand cracked against her chin in an upward arc.

Her assailant seized the manila envelope she’d sworn on her life she’d deliver only to Joseph Nance.

Panic surged inside her. Her fingers curled into the package, clinging to it for all she was worth. “No!”

“Give me the money, bitch!” he growled. His fist crashed into her mouth, and a metallic taste slid over her tongue.

Red smears stained the floor. Blood. Her blood.

Walt kicked her in the ribs, and crimson drops leaked from her nose and splashed onto the linoleum.

The man’s beefy fingers bit her flesh. He shook her. “Give it to me, or I’ll kill you!”

Past and present twined around each other. Numbed her. She did what experience had taught her was her best defense. She shut down. Drew into herself. Closed her eyes.

Just endure it. Survive.

Her grip slackened, and the package was ripped from her arms.

Chapter 2

With a frightened cry, Annie slid to the ground, raised her arms to protect her head. Through the haze of her terror, she heard the shuffle of feet. A grunt. A curse.

Opening her eyes a slit, she found a second man in the alley, brawling hand-to-hand with her attacker.

Touching her swollen lip, she scooted farther away from the men who battled in the shadowed alley. She cringed as the newly arrived man landed a solid blow to her attacker’s gut. Her assailant responded with a resounding punch to the other man’s jaw.

Annie curled into a ball, trembling as fists flew. She squeezed her eyes shut and plugged her ears. She’d seen and heard enough violence in recent months to last her a lifetime. Her ex-husband’s abuse was an all-too-present memory that haunted her every day.

Hot tears leaked onto her cheeks, and she conjured a image of her children, Haley and Ben. She prayed she’d survive to see them again. Please, God.

Her kids were all that mattered. The reason she worked the exhausting waitress job at the diner. Her reason to persevere. Her reason for leaving Walt sixteen months ago, despite the horrifying weeks that followed as her abusive ex hunted her, terrorized her, nearly killed her.

A loud, pained shout jolted her out of her protective shell, and she peeked out at the scene unfolding before her. Her assailant was on the ground, the second man rubbing his knuckles. As he stepped back from his opponent, the second man moved through a shaft of light from a streetlamp.

And Annie glimpsed a face she knew from the diner. A regular.

Her gasp drew the man’s attention.

She searched her memory for his name. John? Jacob? No—Jonah.

“Annie, are you all right?”

In those few seconds of Jonah’s distraction, her assailant snatched up the envelope and ran from the alley.

“The package!” Panic wrenched Annie’s chest.

Jonah pursued the thief to the end of the alley but apparently decided against a footrace. Instead, he walked back toward Annie, wiping blood from his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. “Are you hurt?”

“He took the envelope,” she said, her voice quivering. A sinking disappointment crushed her chest. Though grateful to be alive and to have had Jonah’s help, she dreaded what Hardin would do when he discovered she’d lost his package. Peter Hardin was no gentleman, and she doubted he’d be forgiving about her screwup. She buried her face in her hands as fresh tears puddled in her eyes. “He’s going to fire me. I know he is. Oh, God …”

Jonah crouched in front of her, and she jolted when he stroked a hand down her arm.

Raising a wary gaze, she scrunched a few inches farther away from him. He may have scared the mugger off, but she’d seen his skill with his fists. Experience had taught her to give violent men a wide berth.

“Hey, come on now.” The low, soothing rumble of his voice lulled her. “You won’t lose your job. It’s not your fault you were mugged.” His dark eyebrows drew into a frown, and his tone hardened. “If anyone is to blame it’s that bastard Hardin for sending a woman into this neighborhood alone in the middle of the night.”

Jonah flexed and balled his hand. Annie’s mouth dried, the stolen envelope temporarily forgotten as she focused on the more immediate threat—the man fisting his hand before her.

Taking a deep breath, she eyed Jonah’s clenched fist. “Wh-why are you here?”

He cocked his head slightly and lifted a corner of his mouth. “I’d have thought that was obvious. I followed you when you left the diner.”

So her sense had been right. Her pulse sped up. “Why? What do you want?”

He raised his hands, palms out. “I only wanted to keep an eye on you. I figured something like this might happen and …” He sighed. “I’m only sorry it took me so long to catch up once the jerk grabbed you. I should have stayed closer, but I didn’t want to spook you if you saw me following you.”

Annie furrowed her brow skeptically. “So you were following me to … protect me?”

He grunted. “I heard Hardin tell you to make the delivery, knew the neighborhood …” He glanced away for a moment and swiped at the blood beading under his nose again. “I oughta wring the jerk’s neck for putting you at risk this way.”

“No!”

Her vehement protest snapped his gaze back to hers. “Oh, I won’t. I’m not interested in being arrested for assault.” He held his hand out to her. “Can I help you up?”

Annie hesitated, staring at his large hand. His knuckles were swollen and raw, his palm toughened by calluses. That hand had packed a powerful punch to her assailant.

“Annie?”

Her gaze darted up to his. In the harsh shaft of light from the streetlamp, she studied his face. His bloody nose had a bump at the bridge, as if it had been broken before. A thin, silvery scar bisected his dark eyebrow, and a red blotch on his jaw hinted at a future bruise, courtesy of her attacker.

Yet despite all these visible signs of past and recent fights, his lopsided grin and warm green eyes spoke of a softer side to this man.

“Keep the change.”

“Let go of her.”

Did she dare trust him? He had come to help her. Or so he said.

“If you wanted to protect me …” She paused, second-guessing the wisdom of challenging him on his story. Challenging Walt had earned her more than one beating.

“Go on.”

She took a fortifying breath. “Well, why not just walk with me? Why follow me?”

He rubbed a hand over his battered jaw. “Fair question.” He tugged up the corner of his mouth. “If I had offered to walk with you or drive you to the drop-off address, would you have accepted?”

“I—” She lifted her chin. “Well … probably not. All I know about you is that you like lots of milk in your coffee—skim, not whole—and that you usually sit at the counter. First seat, facing the door.”

His grin was a tad smug. “That’s what I thought.” He offered his hand again.

This time, after a brief hesitation, Annie placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. The warmth and strength of his fingers, curled around hers, sent an odd shiver through her. How could a touch be both comforting and unnerving at the same time? The size of his hand, swallowing her smaller one, sent a tingling awareness through her. His height dwarfed her five feet four inches, and he had more strength in one arm than she had in her whole body. Like Walt had.

Jonah had the power and skill to crush her if he chose.

Her stomach did a forward roll. Snatching her hand back, she rubbed her arms, hoping to warm the chill that burrowed to her bones.

“Did he hurt you, Annie? I can take you to the emergency room if—”

“No! I—I’m fine. Really.” I’ve taken far worse.

Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she averted her gaze, tried to collect her thoughts. “I … I guess I should call the police. File a report.”

Jonah’s eyes narrowed, and he rubbed his jaw. “Uh, generally yes. But … I’d rather you didn’t.”

Her gaze snapped up to his. “Why not? He took Mr. Hardin’s package. He said the package was important and—”

“The guy is long gone.”

“But the cops need to know! I was attacked, and … maybe they can find the package before—”

Before Peter Hardin finds out the envelope was stolen. Fear seized her lungs, and she struggled for a breath. “Oh, God,” she wheezed.

“Annie?” Concern knit Jonah’s brow as she leaned against the bricks and gasped for air.

“H-Hardin … will kill me. H-he’s … going to hate me. H-he …”

Jonah stroked a hand over her back. “Calm down, Annie. It’ll be all right. Hardin can’t blame you for this.”

She angled her head to glance up at him and scoffed. “You don’t know him very well.” She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t have a cell phone. I’ll have to wait until I get home to report this … Unless you—”

Jonah was shaking his head. “Annie, I know you have no reason to trust me, but … I need you not to call the cops about this.”

Annie frowned. “Wha— Why?”

“I have my reasons. I know that’s not much to go on, but it’s all I can say now.” He scowled and ducked his head. “Please, Annie. I need you to trust me on this.”

Trust him? She barely knew him. And trust was one thing she had little of when it came to men. Walt had destroyed what little trust she had. But to get away from him, to get out of this deserted alley and get home to her kids, she’d promise anything.

“All right. No cops.” Yet. She reserved the right to change her mind once she was safe at home.

With his mouth in a grim line, he gave a tight nod. Jonah swept his gaze over her, then stepped back. “I can at least walk you back to the diner parking lot.”

“I don’t have a car. Can’t afford one.” Annie lifted her chin, determined not to feel any embarrassment for her financial woes. She had no reason to be ashamed.

“Mmm. That’s kinda what I figured when you didn’t drive here. How did you plan on getting home?”

She scooped her purse off the ground. “Same way I got here. Walking. Usually I take the bus home. But on nights when I work late, the bus is no longer running.”

Jonah heaved a sigh. “Well, my truck is back near the diner if you’d like a ride.”

Annie adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder, steeling herself for the long walk home. “No. Thank you.”

He scowled. “You know I’m going to follow you, regardless.”

Her heart gave a kick, and her muscles tightened. Walt had disregarded her wishes, too. Done as he damned well pleased, whenever, whatever. She’d felt powerless.

The last thing she needed was another controlling man dictating her life. Especially one who clearly was no stranger to violence. But how did she refuse without incurring his wrath? How did she impose her will on a man whose mind was obviously set?

With the flutter of ill-ease in her veins, Annie backed toward the street. She cleared her throat to steady her voice before replying, faking the confidence she hoped she projected. “I … appreciate your help earlier, but I can get home by myself.”

He rubbed his hands on the seat of his jeans, shaking his head. “It’s late, Annie. The streets in this part of town are dangerous—as you’ve discovered.”

She shivered, remembering the instant terror when she’d been grabbed. Her arm still throbbed from her attacker’s viselike grip. Defeat settled in her belly like a rock, followed closely by a surge of desperation. How would she explain the lost package to Hardin? Was she destined to be a victim of men’s violence for the rest of her life?

Not a victim, Annie. You’re a survivor. Stay positive. Attitude is everything. The mantras and platitudes Ginny, her counselor from the women’s center, preached echoed in her brain. But on days like today, keeping a rosy outlook took more energy than she had. She’d dealt with grumpy customers, poor tippers and a demanding boss. She’d been on her feet since noon, spilled coffee on a customer who then threatened to sue and had had her life endangered thanks to a boss who would likely fire her for losing his package.

Annie shoved aside the sense of impending disaster and squared her shoulders as she faced Jonah. “I can’t stop you from following me, but I prefer to get home by my own means.”

Jonah ducked his head, his mouth twisted in a frown of disagreement. “Fine. I won’t argue with you.” He shook his head and huffed his frustration. “But if you change your mind, give a shout. I’ll be just a block or so behind you.”

The cocky lift of his eyebrow dared her to try to stop him from tailing her. He stepped back to let her pass, and she marched toward the street, squeezing her purse to her chest and giving the dark downtown avenue a wary scrutiny.

A queasy jitter roiled in her gut, knowing she’d disappointed him, upset him. Her innate need to please, an instinct Walt had exploited and pushed to an unhealthy extreme, caused her a moment’s hesitation. She almost balked, almost relented.

When she’d risked her life to free herself from Walt, she’d vowed to never depend on a man for anything ever again. Rebuilding her life, her confidence, her inner strength was a daily struggle. Old habits and emotions, ingrained in her during six turbulent years of marriage, died hard. But she’d sworn to shed the debilitating attitudes and knee-jerk reactions from her marriage in favor of strength and self-empowerment.

One day at a time.

She could take care of herself and her children, no matter what. She hated that she needed the job Hardin gave her so desperately, but without a college degree, her employment options were limited.

She glanced behind her a time or two as she made her way home, and each time, Jonah gave a nod as if to say, “Yep. I’m still here.”

She sensed Jonah’s stare like a weight on her back as she crossed the parking lot and climbed the outside iron stairs to her second-floor apartment. On the grillwork landing, she lifted her gaze and found him in the lawn below. She flicked her hand, shooing him away.

Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he nodded to her door.

Sighing, she unlocked the door and pushed it open an inch. Again she flicked her fingers, sending him away. His lopsided grin flashed white under the bluish light of the security lamp, and he waved. Only when she turned to go inside did he finally amble off in the direction they’d come.

She parted the sheers on the kitchen window to make sure he really left, didn’t loiter in the parking lot or try to come up the stairs to her door. His loose-limbed stride mirrored the relaxed confidence she’d come to know when she waited on him at the diner. He poked his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and for an instant, she admired the way his clothes fit his taut, muscular body.

“Miss Annie?”

The young voice jarred her from the intimate perusal of Jonah’s physique, a side trip she had no business making. Clapping a hand over her scampering heartbeat, she faced her babysitter. “Rani, I … Sorry I’m late. My boss had me run an errand after I got off.”

“It’s okay. I was just watching TV. I—” Rani paused, wrinkling her brow. “Gosh, what happened to your lip?”

Annie touched her swollen mouth. She’d almost forgotten about the blow the mugger had landed, splitting her lip. “Nothing really. I’ll be fine. Just a little accident,” she lied out of habit.

She’d gotten good at making up explanations for the injuries Walt had inflicted.

She was a klutz. The baby had bumped her nose with his head. She’d tripped over a toy in the dark. Her babysitter frowned but said nothing else about Annie’s injury.

“Come on.” Annie hitched her head toward the back of the apartment. “Let’s get you your check.” She paused at the door to the kids’ bedroom and peeked in.

Ben slept soundly in his crib with his diapered butt poking in the air, and curled in her bed, Haley clutched her stuffed cat, Tom, under one arm.

A tightness squeezed Annie’s chest as love filled her heart to bursting. Quietly, she stepped into the room and adjusted Ben’s blanket to cover his arms, then crouched to stroke Haley’s long, dark hair. Her daughter stirred, and Annie held her breath, hoping she hadn’t woken Haley with her motherly doting. She tiptoed back out the door and turned toward her bedroom where she kept her checkbook.

After scribbling out Rani’s weekly payment, she walked the teenager to the door.

“You still need me at eleven thirty tomorrow morning?”

Rani Ogitani had graduated from high school the previous May and started babysitting for Annie the following summer. Now, ten months later, Rani claimed to be looking for a job, thinking about college, weighing her options, but seemed content watching Annie’s children and living with her mother for the time being.

“Yeah. Eleven thirty. The kids give you any trouble today? I know Ben can be a handful.”

Rani yawned. “They were okay. Mom says Ben’s crankiness is just his age. Typical terrible twos.”

Annie grinned. “This, too, shall pass.”

“Hmm?”

“Something my grandmother used to say. Never mind.” She held the door open for Rani and stood on the landing to watch as the teenager crossed the parking lot to her mother’s first-floor apartment.

The March evening still held a nip of the winter just past, and goose bumps rose on Annie’s arms. Before stepping back inside, she scanned the yard, the parking area, the street. Jonah was gone. Or at least she couldn’t see him anywhere, if he was hiding, watching.

She shook her head. That was paranoia talking. Walt’s legacy.

Or was it? Jonah had followed her when she left to make her delivery for Mr. Hardin. Was he really just being thoughtful and protective? Why had he asked her not to call the cops? Was he her guardian angel—or was Jonah hiding a dangerous secret?

Chapter 3

The next day, Jonah took his place at the lunch counter at Pop’s Diner as he had nearly every day for the past several months. With luck, he’d only have to subject himself to the diner’s menu another couple of weeks. As he followed through with the bet he’d placed with Farrout the night before, he hoped he now had an inside track to learn more about how the illegal gambling operation worked—how gamblers paid their debts, where the money went, who was involved at higher levels.

Follow the money.

He thought about the package Annie had been given to deliver last night, and tension spiraled through him. He’d bet anything Hardin’s package had to do with the gambling money he was laundering through the diner. Whoever had been on the other end of that delivery was a key player in this operation.

Jonah gritted his teeth. He’d been so close to filling in another piece of the puzzle in this investigation before that bastard had jumped Annie and made off with the package.

It almost seemed as if the guy had been lying in wait for her. As if he’d known that package was to be delivered ….

Jonah puffed his cheeks and blew a slow, thoughtful breath out through puckered lips. Who could have tipped the thief off? Where was the leak in the operation? Was someone gunning for Hardin?

Nothing about last night’s turn of events sat well with Jonah, especially when he figured Annie into the picture. Hardin had drawn her into the dynamic. She could have unwittingly become ensnared in the sticky web of deceit Hardin and Farrout had spun.

Jonah mulled his next move, then glanced up from his ham on rye when Annie breezed through the front door at ten minutes until noon. She cast him a quick nervous glance as she poked her purse under the counter and rushed back into the kitchen.

Jonah swabbed another greasy fry through his puddle of ketchup, keeping an eye on the kitchen door. Waiting.

Moments later he heard Hardin’s raised voice roll from the back of the restaurant like thunder announcing a storm. “You lost it? You idiot! I told you how important that package was! How could you lose it?”

Jonah craned his neck, trying to find Annie through the service window.

He heard the soft murmur of Annie’s response, recognized the frightened tremble in her tone, and his gut pitched.

“Sorry’s not good enough!” Hardin screamed.

A loud crash. Annie’s frightened yelp.

In an instant, Jonah had jumped from his stool and barreled through the swinging door into the kitchen. He sized up the situation in a glance. Hardin’s red face, balled fists and threatening pose as he leaned close to Annie. The young waitress had scrunched back against the wall, her face pale and arms raised defensively to protect her head.

“Is there a problem here?”

Hardin’s glare snapped over to Jonah. “What are you doin’? Can’t you read? Employees only!”

“Annie? You all right?” he asked, ignoring Hardin.

Frightened brown eyes lifted at his inquiry.

Hardin jabbed a finger toward the door. “This ain’t none of your business!”

“I’m making it my business. I don’t take kindly to any man threatening a woman.”

Annie’s brow furrowed warily.

“The bitch lost two hundred grand of my money!” Hardin growled.

Annie gasped, and her eyes widened. “Two hundred grand!”

Hardin narrowed a glare on her. “That’s right. Two hundred grand. And it’s comin’ out of your paycheck!”

Her face blanched a shade whiter. “Mr. Hardin, I can’t—”

“Shut up!” He slammed a hand on the wall beside her head, and she yelped, trembled.

Jonah’s blood boiled, and he strode closer to Hardin. Grabbing the man’s shirt, he yanked him around, then shoved him back against the opposite wall. “Back off! If I see you so much as breathe on her again, I’ll tear you apart.”

Hardin puffed his chest out and shoved back. “Don’t threaten me! She’s my employee and—”

“That doesn’t give you the right to hurt or intimidate her,” Jonah growled through clenched teeth. “Don’t touch her. Ever.”

“Jonah …” Annie said quietly. “Don’t.”

“If anyone is to blame for that money being stolen from her, it’s you.” Jonah poked the man in the chest with his finger. “You had no business sending a woman into that neighborhood alone, especially at that hour. What were you thinking? She could have been killed.” He took a deep breath to calm the rage seething inside him. The urge to smash the guy’s face was too strong. He needed to step back, cool off. He released Hardin’s shirt and moved away, his hands still bunched at his sides.

Hardin’s eyes narrowed, and his face flamed red. “Get out of my kitchen! Out of my diner!” He turned to Annie, aiming a finger at her. “And you! You’re fired!”

Annie bit her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shut.

Jonah moved between Annie and her hostile boss. “Not so fast, pal. Unless you’d like to explain to the cops what that two-hundred-grand delivery was about, where the money came from.”

Now he had Hardin’s attention. The man’s eyes widened, and his face leeched of color.

“She can file a wrongful termination lawsuit whether she has grounds or not, and the delivery you asked her to make is sure to be called into question. You got an explanation ready for the judge about that two hundred grand?”

Tensing, Hardin glared darkly at Jonah, then cast his glower toward Annie.

Jonah held his breath, second-guessing his rash challenge. Tossing down the gauntlet with Hardin might not have been his wisest move if he wanted to keep a low profile as he worked his investigation.

But Hardin, in his rage, had spilled the tidbit about the huge sum that had been in the package. Hardin knew Jonah had been at the diner last night when Annie left to deliver the envelope. And Jonah couldn’t help but wonder if his intervention now hadn’t provoked Hardin to fire Annie.

Guilt pinched Jonah. He couldn’t let her lose her job because of his temper.

“Fine,” Hardin snarled, spittle spraying Annie’s direction. “Consider yourself on notice. You screw up again, and you’re gone.”

With another scalding glance to Jonah, Hardin stomped into his office and slammed the door.

Annie pressed a hand to her chest and slid to the floor, shaking.

Pulling in a deep breath for composure before he approached her, Jonah studied Annie’s trembling body and wan expression. He’d seen reactions like hers too many times in both his personal and professional life not to know what he was dealing with. If her fearful reaction to Hardin weren’t enough, her scars and her distrust of him last night bolstered his assessment.

She’d likely been abused. Husband, father, sibling—didn’t matter who. The devastating legacy of violence and mental cruelty didn’t differentiate.

Acid roiled in his gut, and he took another couple of seconds to cool off before squatting in front of her.

“Annie—”

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” she murmured. Raising her eyes to meet his, she shook her head. “He’s my problem, and I have to learn to deal with him.”

He frowned. “Annie, he had no right—”

“That doesn’t matter! Right and wrong isn’t the point.” Annie hiked her chin up a notch and firmed her jaw in a display of moxie that sparked hope in him.

He held his tongue, giving her the chance to speak her mind. Her body language as she gathered herself and recovered from Hardin’s intimidation spoke volumes to him. She was strong. A fighter. She had the mettle to overcome her past. Warmth swirled through his blood as he held her rich-coffee gaze.

Annie swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. “This was my problem, not yours. I have to learn how to handle these situations for myself, if I’m going to—” She tore her eyes away and shook her head again. “Never mind.”

When she pushed up from the floor, Jonah put a hand under her arm to help her to her feet. She shrugged out of his grip. “I’m all right. I don’t need—”

“Okay.” He held his hands up and backed away one step.

Stroking her hands down her uniform apron, she angled a dubious look toward him. “Why have you decided to be my protector? You barely know me.”

He shrugged. “How well do you have to know someone to want to help them?”

She ducked her head and didn’t answer.

Jamming his hands into his pockets, he cocked his head and studied her bruised cheek and swollen lip, evidence of last night’s attack. Even with the injuries marring her ivory skin, her beauty shone through. Annie was a curious blend of child-like fragility and womanly allure. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose that lent to her young, waifish appearance, while her bowed lips and thick-lashed brown eyes contributed to the seductive movie-star quality her hairstyle evoked.

He cracked his knuckles, working off the remnants of adrenaline following his confrontation with Hardin. “Look, are you all right?”

A pointed, dark brown gaze snapped up to his, half hidden by the curtain of hair she kept over her left cheek. “I’m fine. I appreciate your help, but—”

“But nothing. Forget it.” He waved a hand in dismissal and pivoted on his heel. He’d made it as far as the swinging door before he reconsidered. “No, don’t forget it.” He marched back to Annie and drilled her with a hard gaze. “You want to learn to take care of yourself? To handle men like Hardin and that guy in the alley last night?”

Annie blinked her surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you had to learn how to handle situations like this, guys like Hardin.” He flicked a thumb toward the spot where Hardin had stood earlier. “Did you mean it?”

A deer-in-the-headlights look froze her face.

“I can teach you to handle yourself when a man attacks you. I can show you how to defend yourself, protect yourself.”

She eyed him skeptically for several silent moments. “What about my children?”

“Kids?” Jonah fumbled, caught off guard by her question. “I … I guess I could teach them, too.”

“No, they’re too young. I mean, can you teach me to protect them from men like …” She paused, bit her lip, then lowered her voice. “Men like Hardin?”

Jonah held her gaze, moved by the depth of fear, the passion and motherly concern he saw reflected in her dark eyes. A degree of desperation shadowed her expression and tugged at dusty memories deep inside him.

“I can … if you’re willing to trust me.”

His answer seemed to douse her interest with a cold slap of reality. She frowned and jerked her gaze away with a sigh. Trust was clearly in short supply for Annie. Not surprising.

Jonah twisted his mouth to the side as he thought. “May I have your order pad and pen?”

With a puzzled look, she took the items from the front pocket of her apron and extended them to him.

“What time do you get off work tonight?” He scribbled an address on the pad and clicked the pen closed.

Again she hesitated before answering, her gaze narrowed on him as if she could detect his motives, any ill-intent or hidden agenda if she studied him close enough. “Eight. Why?”

“That’s my gym.” He tapped the front of the pad. “I’ll meet you there at eight thirty and give you a few pointers on self-defense, if you want. There are plenty of things a woman can do to protect herself, even from a man twice her size. I’ll show you a couple of the most effective ones tonight.”

He handed her back the pen and pad, and she perused the note he’d made. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth again and wound a strand of hair around her finger. “I don’t know. I … I’d have to call my babysitter and make sure she could stay late. And I hate to miss the kids’ bedtime. I see so little of them as it is.” Her shoulders slumped a bit, and he heard working-mother guilt rife in her tone.

Seizing the opportunity to learn more about her and make her feel more at ease with him, Jonah grinned. “How old are they?”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“Your kids. How old are they?”

Her expression softened, and warmth flooded her eyes. “Haley is five and a half, and my baby, Ben, is almost two.”

Her obvious affection for her children needled a vulnerable place in Jonah, an emptiness he hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on. The idea of having his own family stirred a complicated mix of emotions in him. He longed for the domestic ideal of home and hearth, but his memories of family left him in a cold sweat. Norman Rockwell dreams of a picket fence and two-point-five kids were a fantasy for him. Out of reach. Too risky.

His broken family, his only experience with home life, was a recipe for disaster.

Clearing his throat and shoving aside his own bitter memories, he flashed her another smile. “A boy and a girl. That’s great. You have a matched set.”

A corner of her mouth quirked up. “Hardly matched. They’re as opposite as can be.”

Jonah chuckled. “Funny how that happens, huh?”

Her mouth curved a bit more, forming the first hint of a grin he’d seen on her lips in weeks. “Yeah. Funny.”

“I’d love to meet them someday.”

Her smile vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by the damnable wariness again. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I like you. And I like kids. Stands to reason I’d like your kids.”

Her brow lowered. “Mr. Devereaux, I’m not interested in—”

“No, you’re right.” He raised a hand to cut her off. “Too fast. I didn’t mean to be pushy.” He nodded toward the order pad still in her hand. “But please consider coming tonight. For your safety’s sake.” As he backed toward the door, he threw in a parting shot he knew was pure manipulation. But he didn’t care. “Do it for your kids if not yourself.”

Annie needed to learn to protect herself, to stand up to bullies like Hardin, to revive the spark her abuser had extinguished. Jonah wasn’t above a little manipulation if it motivated her to make changes in her life.

The truth was, Annie had been the delivery person when a two-hundred-thousand-dollar transfer of funds was stolen. Had the thief intended to kill her to keep her quiet, stop her from identifying him? Would the party who’d expected the cash seek retribution? Could Hardin become more desperate and, therefore, more dangerous?

No matter how he looked at this turn of events, Jonah didn’t like the crosshairs Annie had found herself in after last night. She needed more than just a few self-defense techniques if someone tried to keep her from talking. But his lessons would be a start.

Meanwhile, he’d be extra vigilant. Annie needed someone with his experience and training to watch her back.

Annie surveyed the last few diners who’d come in for a late meal, then faced Lydia, who was working the last shift. “Can you handle things if I go now?”

“Sure thing, honey. I got it covered.” The older waitress smiled and jerked her head toward the door. “Get on home to those babies and give ‘em a kiss for me, too.”

“Thanks, Lydia.” Annie untied her apron and stashed it under the counter. Grabbing her purse, she headed back to the kitchen, walking with careful penguinlike steps to avoid slipping on the greasy film that had accumulated on the floor through the day. As she neared Mr. Hardin’s office, she heard his raised voice, and her heart beat a little harder.

“That’s not enough time! I said I’d get it to you!” he ranted.

As Annie tiptoed past his half-open door to clock out, she caught her reflection on the stainless-steel side of the industrial freezer. The image rubbed a raw nerve.

How many times had she cowered around Walt, tiptoeing through their house in order not to wake him, or quietly keeping a discreet distance to avoid triggering one of his tantrums?

She’d thought her days of treading lightly around hostile men were past, yet here she was skulking past Hardin’s office like a guilty child. Frustration and self-censure stabbed Annie.

She’d come too far and paid too high of a price to be free of Walt to fall back into old habits now. Habits born from fear.

Damn it, she didn’t want to live in fear anymore! Annie jammed her time card in the clock so hard it crumpled in the middle. Spinning on her heel to leave, she marched back by Hardin’s office, her chin up and her back straight.

“Annie!”

She froze, dread slowing her pulse and snagging her breath.

Please, Lord, not another errand like last night.

Heart thumping, she turned toward Hardin’s office and stepped to the door. “Yes?”

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” he asked around a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. His eyes mirrored the same dark resentment she heard in his tone.

“My shift is over. I was going home.”

“Not if I say you don’t.”

A rock lodged in Annie’s stomach. She dragged in a smoke-laced lungful of air, trying to steel her nerves and battle down the building panic.

And anger—the most dangerous of emotions.

Dealing with the repercussions of Walt’s rage had been enough to teach her just how dangerous. But her own temper had led her to say foolish things at times that had only inflamed Walt’s wrath. Fury over Walt’s unfairness and controlling nature had seethed in her gut like a corrosive waste until she would throw up, so she’d long ago learned to suppress her temper, swallow the bile and deny the heat of anger that flashed through her blood.

Yet despite her best efforts to erase her ill-will and moments of irritation, she still carried a boatload of frustration and ire for the desperate circumstances of her life. She blamed Walt’s abuse and her submission to his violence for the dark cloud his threats still cast over her. Now Hardin was doing his best to intimidate and control her, and she struggled to keep the poisonous emotion at bay.

“My shift is over, Mr. Hardin. I need to get home to my children.” Her voice quivered with anxiety and barely suppressed indignation. She curled her fingers into her palms, and the pulse of rising adrenaline throbbed in her temples.

Her boss narrowed his eyes and stabbed out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray on his desk. “Seems to me there’s a matter of two hundred thousand dollars you either have to pay back or work off.”

The flutter of fear taunted her, beating hard against her breastbone.

“Mr. H-Hardin, I could never work enough hours to repay—”

“Well, if you ain’t going to work the extra hours, then maybe you could settle your debt with me … another way.” Surging to his feet, he raked a lascivious gaze over her and smirked.

Annie fell back a step. Disgust slithered over her, and she shivered. Taking a slow breath, she searched for enough confidence to reply without her voice quaking. “No.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, and his gaze continued to roam over her.

“I’ll find a way to repay the money,” she said, though the words were sour knots in her throat that she had to force out. “It will take me a while—” Like forever. She cringed at the thought of tightening her budget even further and scraping together small payments for Hardin. “But I’ll find a way.”

A muscle twitched in Hardin’s jaw, and his flinty eyes drilled into her. “I want the money by next week.”

The ice in his tone, his stare sent a deep chill slicing through her. Trembling to her marrow, Annie whirled away and hurried toward the dining room. Her feet slipped and skidded on the greasy kitchen tile, but she didn’t slow down. She had to get away from Hardin. Get out of the diner. Get home to her children—the only place she felt even remotely safe anymore.

“I can show you how to defend yourself, protect yourself.”

As she rushed out of the diner, Jonah’s promise filtered through her head. Her steps slowed, and she reached into her pocket for the scrap of paper he’d given her with his gym’s address.

If only—

Forget if only. Dreams and wishes were for other people. She had to deal in reality. In truths and concrete facts.

Her truth was she had to pay her hostile boss a hell of a lot of money.

Picking up her pace again, she jogged to the bus stop, still quaking from Hardin’s chilling threat. No way could she find two hundred thousand dollars to repay him, even if she had a year to pay him. Much less a week.

Her bus rumbled up to the stop just as she reached the street corner. While she waited for an older man with a walker to board, she fished in her pocket for her bus pass.

Once more her fingers brushed the crumpled paper Jonah had given her.

“Do it for your kids if not yourself.”

Guilt and fear squeezed her chest, tangling with irritation over Jonah’s obvious manipulation of her love for her kids. She stared down at the address. What could it hurt just to go and see what Jonah wanted to teach her? He’d already proven he wanted to help, not harm her. And a gym was a public place. She’d be safe there. Right?

“You coming or not?” the bus driver called, jarring her from her deliberations.

“I—” Annie exhaled a deep breath of resignation. She had to at least try to protect herself from Hardin and men like the thief who jumped her last night. She was tired of living with this fear. She’d come too far to lose everything because she let a bully like Hardin intimidate her.

Annie raised her chin and met the bus driver’s gaze. “Not.”

With a puff of exhaust, the bus chugged away from the curb, and Annie headed toward Jonah’s gym.