Dangerous Nights: Tall Dark Defender / Undercover Wife

Chapter 7

The next morning as Annie left for work, she paused at the edge of the parking lot and turned to wave at Haley, who watched from the apartment window. Her goodbye ritual, which Haley insisted on, took an ominous turn when she glimpsed a man for a split second before he darted behind a tree.

Her heart fluttering erratically, Annie smiled and lifted a wave to her daughter, while keeping an eye on the large live oak tree where the man had disappeared.

Jonah? Probably.

For some reason she couldn’t fathom, he’d appointed himself her guardian. As she’d expected, he’d walked her home last night, having caught up to her several blocks from the boxing gym. She’d refused his offer to drive her, not wanting to be alone with him in the narrow confines of his front seat. Yet even outside, an arm’s-length away, walking the city streets back toward her apartment, he’d crowded her. His presence on her walk home had compounded the conflicting feelings her self-defense lesson had stirred. If Jonah was correct about the danger she was in, she appreciated his efforts to keep her safe. Yet the idea of needing a man’s protection nettled her, especially now when she was supposed to be making an independent stand.

He had at least granted her wish for quiet, not bothering to make meaningless conversation. He’d only warned her to lock up when she got inside and bid her a good night at the foot of the stairs to her apartment.

So why, if he’d walked with her last night, was he being so furtive this morning? Sighing her irritation, Annie spun back around and marched toward the bus stop. She didn’t see him get on her bus when it arrived, yet the sense of being watched, being followed, stayed with her all the way to the diner. Annoying, cloying, unsettling.

By the time she reached work, she’d grown edgy and waspish, and she planned to give him a piece of her mind. What was he doing tailing her like some pervert when his warnings of danger already had her jumpy and looking over her shoulder? The nerve of him!

Annie stormed through the diner’s front door and slammed her purse under the front counter with a huff.

“Whoa,” a familiar male voice said. “I was going to say good morning, but obviously yours hasn’t been so far, if your mood is any indication.”

She snapped her gaze up to the smiling man sitting at the lunch counter.

Jonah. With a half-eaten plate of eggs and grits in front of him.

Her pulse scampered as her pique morphed to dismay. “You’re here.”

The corner of his mouth hiked higher. “Aren’t I every day?”

“But if you’re here, then who—” A chill slid through her.

One dark eyebrow dipped over Jonah’s incisive stare. “Who what?”

Annie pressed a hand to her swirling stomach and shook her head. “I … Nothing.”

Had the man behind the tree been her imagination? Had she really been tailed to the diner, or had she conjured the sensation because she’d expected Jonah to escort her?

She twitched her lips, the closest thing to a grin she could manage at the moment. “Forget it. I …”

She cleared her throat and tried to shake the jitters that danced down her spine.

Jonah’s concerned gaze lingered, reminding her that just hours ago she’d been in his arms, held close to his masculine heat and strength. Yesterday, when his hands had been splayed intimately against her ribs, his warm breath fanning her nape, how could she not have entertained sexual images of him? And how did she keep those same images from taunting her this morning?

She fumbled to unfold a clean apron, and though she studiously avoided Jonah’s gaze, she felt his eyes tracking her movements behind the counter.

Susan, one of the other waitresses, stood by the order window, her long blond braid trailing down her back as she rolled silverware into napkins. “Mornin’, Annie. Am I ever glad you’re here! It’s been a zoo.”

Annie returned a smile, glad for the distraction. “Good morning.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than the morning took a decided turn toward bad. Two regulars, the rude and intimidating men Jonah had been sitting with the night she was mugged, sauntered into the restaurant. The men slid into their usual booth, and the larger man snapped his fingers to call her to the table.

As if she were a dog he could summon to grovel at his feet.

Annie’s skin crawled, and she gritted her teeth.

Susan stepped over to top off Jonah’s coffee. She gave the new arrivals a meaningful glance and rolled her eyes. “Want me to get their order for ya, hon?”

Jonah glanced over his shoulder toward the men in question. His shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. If Annie hadn’t been looking for his reaction, she’d have missed the subtle flinch. Why had Jonah been talking with the two men the other night? Were they involved in the gambling and money-laundering investigation he was conducting?

Hands shaking, she tied on her apron and shoved a fresh order pad in her pocket. She gave Susan a grateful smile and shook her head. “No. Let me go clock in, then I’ll take care of them.”

“Devereaux!” the shorter man called to Jonah.

Jonah sent Annie what she could only call a sharp, warning glance before he faced the men’s table and nodded an acknowledgment.

The second man returned a nod, and Jonah carried his coffee over to sit at the men’s booth.

Squelching the uneasy jangle inside her, Annie hurried into the kitchen to clock in.

“You’re late!” Hardin shouted at her from his post beside the grill cook.

Without answering, Annie walked carefully on the slick floor and consulted the time clock as she punched her card. She was, in fact, ten minutes early.

He’s trying to rattle you. As if she needed further rattling that morning.

Someone had followed her to the diner from her apartment. She was sure of it. If not Jonah, then who? And why?

And what was she supposed to make of that odd look Jonah had just sent her? Was he trying to tell her something? Serving the goons was unnerving enough without Jonah sending her unspoken signals.

Taking a deep breath for courage, Annie grabbed a coffeepot and headed to the goons’ table.

Temporarily setting aside his concerns surrounding Annie’s strange mood that morning, Jonah eased into the booth next to Pulliam and across from Farrout. “Morning, gentlemen.”

Farrout arched one thick eyebrow. “You have something for me?”

So much for small talk.

Jonah fished in his back pocket, then slid a folded envelope across the Formica table. Farrout lifted the flap and verified the contents—a cashier’s check for eight thousand dollars. The bookie sent him a dark look.

Jonah shrugged. “Like I said before, I’ll have the rest at the end of the month, after I get paid.”

Pulliam scoffed, and Farrout silenced him with a hooded gaze. “With interest.”

His anger spiking, Jonah balled his hand, then sucked in a deep breath to cool his knee-jerk reaction. “You never mentioned interest the other night. We agreed that—”

“You want in or don’t you?” Farrout interrupted, his tone flat.

Frustration gnawed at Jonah. He had to play by this scumbag’s rules if he wanted firsthand knowledge of how the operation worked. He ground his teeth and finally gave a jerky nod. “How much interest?”

Farrout exchanged a look with his partner.

“Twenty-five percent,” Pulliam said, angling his body to lean his back against the wall.

Jonah was ready to argue the point when Pulliam’s gaze shifted.

The scents of fresh coffee and flowers alerted Jonah to Annie’s arrival even before he turned. His libido snapped to attention. While she filled Farrout’s and Pulliam’s mugs with hot brew, Jonah inhaled deeply, and the floral aroma of her shampoo sparked memories of holding her body close at the gym. With effort, he shoved down his natural reaction to Annie.

For her sake, he couldn’t give Farrout or Pulliam any indication there was any outside connection between him and Annie. He prayed she’d read his unspoken message warning her of the same before he’d joined the shysters at their table.

He hazarded a glance at her, but she kept her eyes on her pad as she took the other men’s order. Before she left, her doelike eyes found his. “Anything else for you?”

Her gaze clung, asking more than just what food he wanted. Jonah schooled his face, wanting with every fiber of his being to reach up and stroke the worry lines creasing her brow.

He shook his head and tore his attention away before anything in his expression gave him away.

Once Annie left, Farrout got back to the business at hand. “Here’s how it works. Your money goes into the pool with everyone else’s. If your team wins, you split the pot with anyone else who had money on the winner. Minus our cut, of course.”

Jonah frowned. “Your cut.”

Farrout shrugged blithely. “Like your friendly office pool, but with higher stakes.”

“And your rules.”

“Exactly,” Pulliam answered, a smug grin pulling his cheek. “We gotta make something for our services.”

Jonah’s gut churned. How could Michael have gotten mixed up with something so obviously crooked?

But Michael’s perception had been altered. His gambling had become an addiction. Compulsive. An illness. The high stakes would have been as tempting to Jonah’s mentor as a cold beer would be to an alcoholic.

“So how big is the pool? How many people have paid in?”

Farrout shook his head. “Proprietary information.”

When Jonah scowled, Pulliam chortled. “What? You can trust us.”

Trust them to fleece him like they’d fleeced Michael, perhaps.

Annie returned with the men’s orders, and as she set Farrout’s plate in front of him, he seized her wrist. “I didn’t want toast. All I ordered was an omelette. Don’t try to charge me for toast I didn’t order, ya hear?”

Jonah bristled, remembering the thug’s rough treatment of Annie a couple of nights earlier. He leaned forward, ready to rip the bastard’s throat out.

But something in Annie’s posture stopped him. Her mouth tightened, and color crept to her cheeks. Squaring her shoulders, she stared at Farrout’s grip on her arm, then stepped closer to him. “The omelette comes with toast. There’s no extra charge.” She circled her wrist, twisting her hand toward his thumb. And freeing herself from his grip. “Sir.”

She stepped back, her expression almost as stunned as Farrout’s. Jonah bit the inside of his cheek to contain his proud grin and his chuckle of amusement at Farrout’s expense. He wasn’t in a position to gloat over Annie’s victory while he had business of his own to conduct.

Farrout glared at Annie’s back as she marched back to the kitchen. “She just lost her tip.”

Jonah squelched his gnawing disgust for Farrout and focused on his goal. If his plan worked, he’d have the sweet satisfaction of ending Farrout’s days of manhandling waitresses. Permanently.

He sat through the rest of his meeting with Farrout and Pulliam wishing he could scoop Annie into a bear hug and congratulate her for taking a stand, for her skilled use of the technique she’d only learned last night. He prayed that this demonstration of the technique’s effectiveness would convince her to continue with the private lessons.

But did he want to teach Annie one-on-one for her sake—or for his? He couldn’t deny his attraction to Annie. He wanted to spend more time with her, get to know her, explore the mysteries that surrounded her. But even without his nine years at the Little Rock Police Department, anyone could have figured out the intimate nature of the private lessons bothered Annie.

After Farrout and Pulliam left the diner, Jonah headed up to the lunch counter to pay for his breakfast. His encounter with the two bookies left him feeling contaminated, tainted by association. His gut told him these two lowlifes were responsible for conning Michael, sending him into the downward spiral that ultimately killed him.

Jonah itched to get into the ring and work off his frustration with the slow pace of his investigation. He needed to sweat off Farrout’s invisible filth, which clung to his skin and infected his soul.

If you lie down with dogs …

Susan hustled over to the cash register to take his money, a wide grin at the ready. “Off to the mill, handsome?”

“You lied.” Jonah mentally flinched remembering Annie’s reaction to his cover of shift work at the paper mill.

“‘Fraid so.” He handed her his cash and managed a polite smile.

The blond waitress was attractive enough, and he usually enjoyed exchanging flirtatious banter with her. Today he only wanted to ruminate on where his investigation was going and how to crank it up to the next level without arousing suspicion.

“I think pot roast is on the menu for tonight.” Susan handed him his change. “Tempt you to come back in for dinner?”

“Susan, you know it’s not the food that brings me back every night.” Jonah gave her a wink, then scanned the dining room.

He needed to speak to Annie in private before he left—and not just about her self-defense lessons. Something had spooked her this morning. When she’d arrived at the diner and seen him, the flush tinting her cheeks had waned to a ghostly pallor.

Jonah stalled, taking his time putting away his change and unwrapping a mint from the basket by the register. Finally, Annie bustled through the swinging door from the kitchen, casting a wary glance toward the table where he’d had his meeting with Farrout and Pulliam. Relief flashed over her face when she found the table empty.

Jonah moved behind the counter so he could speak to her without raising his voice. “Annie, do you have a minute?”

Spinning toward him with a startled gasp, Annie frowned. “You’re not supposed to be back here.”

He hitched his head toward the front door. “So follow me out, and we’ll talk there.”

She gave the dining room a meaningful glance. “I have customers.”

“They’ll wait. I just need a minute.” He took her elbow and nudged her toward the front door.

With a sigh of exasperation, she accompanied him to the sidewalk in front of the diner.

The March sun warmed the air, and a spring breeze lifted her hair, revealing her scars. Annie quickly combed the tousled wisps back over her cheek with her fingers.

Tempted to thread his own fingers through the glossy strands, Jonah shoved his hands into his pockets. “They’re not that noticeable, you know. I don’t see why you cover them.”

Annie shot a startled look toward him.

He angled his head. “Besides, sexy as that side part is, it hides your best feature. You have beautiful eyes, Annie.”

She gaped at him for a moment as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “Is this what you brought me out here for? Patronizing flattery?”

He jerked his shoulders back. “Patronizing? I’m not trying to insult you.”

She twisted her mouth into a dismissive frown. “What did you want to talk about? I have to get back to work.”

“Why were you surprised to see me here when you got to work? What happened this morning on your way in?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing.”

But the nervous glint in her eyes betrayed her.

“The truth.”

She cocked her chin up, but the protest on her lips died when he narrowed a hard gaze on her. With a resigned sigh, she turned to watch the traffic on the side street. “I thought you were following me. When I left my apartment this morning, I thought I saw …”

He waited for her to finish, but she only shook her head. “It was probably just my imagination.” She slanted an irritated glance at him. “You’ve got me so paranoid about someone gunning for me because of that stolen money that I’m jumping at my own shadow.”

An uneasy tremor rippled through him. Instinct told him that whatever she’d sensed, whatever she’d seen had been no trick of her imagination.

“Just the same, I think I should drive you home tonight, bring you to work when you—”

“No.”

He reached for her arm, determined to make her understand the seriousness of the situation. “Annie, until I can be sure you’re safe—”

“I said no.” She wrenched free of his grip and took a big step back. “I’m not your responsibility, Jonah. I need to take care of myself.”

“Then meet me tonight for another self-defense lesson.”

Her shoulders drooped, and she shook her head. “I don’t think so. I—”

“Annie, think about it—you’ve only had one lesson, and already you’ve put something you learned to use.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, and she peeked up at him. “I surprised myself with that.”

“Why are you surprised? You’re a strong, capable woman. You can do anything you want if you apply yourself to it.”

She rolled her eyes. “You sound like Ginny.” Tipping her head, she met his eyes briefly. “She’s my counselor at the women’s center.”

The simple statement told Jonah a great deal. The Lagniappe Women’s Center counseled and aided women who’d been raped, abused or otherwise traumatized. This Ginny Annie referred to was likely responsible for helping Annie free herself from her abusive situation. A good ally to have in her corner. That Annie trusted him enough to confide having used the center’s resources was progress.

Jonah grinned. “I like Ginny already.”

Annie shifted her weight and sighed. “Look, I plan to buy a can of pepper spray on the way home tonight. I’ll be fine.”

“And what if someone really is following you? Pepper spray is a start, but to defend yourself from—”

“No!” She shuddered and raised both palms toward him. “Jonah, I appreciate your time yesterday and your concern for me, but … I just … I can’t …”

When she hesitated, he asked, “Is it me? Is it working with me in private that bothers you?”

Her expression answered him even though she didn’t. The awkward, apologetic look she gave him burrowed to his core. He’d suspected as much, should have known better.

“There’s an alternative. The local police department offers ongoing self-defense classes for women at the training center on Wood Street. They meet four days a week at 5:00 p.m. The instructor is a woman. A police officer. The class is all women and teenaged girls.”

She bit her bottom lip and furrowed her brow as if considering his suggestion.

“It’s a good class. No charge. No commitment.”

The knit over her eyebrows deepened. “And you know all this because …?”

Jonah balked. If he told her the truth, that he served as the training aggressor for the class, would his participation be a deterrent because of her discomfort around him? In the class, he wore a full-body, padded suit including a helmet with a face mask so the women could practice the defensive strikes without injuring him. Annie didn’t have to ever learn he was involved in the class.

He opted for partial truth, hoping she’d forgive his sin of omission if she ever discovered his deception. “The lead instructor is a friend of mine. She told me about the class.”

Before Annie could answer, Susan appeared at the diner door. “Annie, we need you. Orders are backing up.”

“I have to go,” Annie murmured, brushing past him.

He caught her arm, felt her tremble at his touch. “Please think about it. Even if this business with the stolen money comes to nothing, you need to be able to protect yourself.”

She set her shoulders and gave him a tight nod. “I’ll think about it.”

Thinking was a start, but not really enough. He had to convince her to take the class. Her life could depend on it.

Chapter 8

Annie’s thoughts drifted to Jonah time and again throughout the day. She had to admit, even the little bit of information he’d given her last night about defending herself had been valuable. After weeks of being manhandled by Mr. Farrout, breaking his grip on her wrist this morning had been surprising. Exhilarating. Encouraging.

The idea of learning more from Jonah was tempting. But so was Jonah. Being around him at the diner, remembering how his defense demonstrations made her body hum and her knees weak, was difficult enough. She’d be crazy to purposely put herself in his proximity. In his arms. Alone. Even to learn self-defense, she couldn’t justify torturing herself with something so … Annie wiped her hands on her apron and chewed her bottom lip. What was the right word?