She sat straighter, remembering his telling her he’d once been a cop. She listened attentively as he explained.
“The thing is, the kid who went to that gym looking for work, the teenager who got into the ring to earn a few bucks isn’t the same guy sitting here today. Back then I was full of rage, full of hatred for what my father did. I was confused, alone, just...mad at the world. But the owner of the gym saw something worthwhile in me and took me under his wing. He talked to me, listened to me when I was ready to spill my guts and helped me work through that anger I had pent up inside. He showed me how that fury was destroying me, how holding on to that anger hurt me, not my dad.”
His words reverberated through Annie, and she hugged herself. She’d heard much of the same admonitions and advice from Ginny. Ginny had been her rock when she’d felt overwhelmed by the turmoil and danger of leaving Walt. Annie understood without his explaining further how important the owner of that gym had been for Jonah.
Jonah rubbed his palms on his jeans and continued. “He taught me to channel those bottled-up emotions and release them through my boxing. I sweated out the grief and worked off the tension and hatred. Took it out on a punching bag so that I didn’t blow a gasket one day and let it out on some shmuck who ticked me off. I poured all the fear and frustration and rage I had for my father and what he’d done to us into my workout and learned to fight a clean, fair fight in the ring. No cheap shots. Keeping control and perspective.
“I’d been in a downward spiral, and he pulled me back from the brink and set me on a better path.”
“How so?” Annie leaned forward, enthralled by what she was learning about Jonah’s past.
He rolled a palm up. “I went back to school, joined the police academy and was on the job for nine years before I left the force.”
Annie drew her eyebrows together and shook her head. “Why did you quit?”
Jonah flopped back on the sofa and rubbed his hands over his face. Grunted. “I guess I...answered one too many domestic disturbance calls and had had enough.”
He clenched his teeth, and the distant look in his eyes told her his thoughts were miles away from her living room, deep in troublesome memories from his years as a cop. Annie’s heart thundered as color crept up his neck and flooded his cheeks, his nostrils flared and his jaw tightened.
“Every time I’d leave a home where I knew abuse was happening, regardless of whether I’d been able to do anything to help the people involved, I’d feel that frustration knotted up inside me again, and I’d go to the gym to work through it, work it off.” He inhaled deeply and expelled it in a whoosh. “But in all the years I was a cop,” he said, meeting her eyes with a hard, level gaze, “I never lost my cool with an abuser—much as I wanted to knock the snot out of ’em. Never.” He paused, letting that fact sink in.
A shiver chased up Annie’s spine as all her conceptions about Jonah shattered and reassembled in new patterns. Her spinning thoughts made her restless, and she shoved to her feet, paced across the floor and back.
“So...boxing, sparring saved my life. The things I learned from Michael kept me on track, kept me sane.”
Her pulse tripped, and she jerked her head up. “Michael. You’ve mentioned him before. He’s the one you said lost his savings to the gambling ring that operates out of the diner.”
Jonah nodded. “He was my mentor, my guardian angel when I needed him. He moved down here to Lagniappe a couple years ago to manage Frank’s gym, the one we were at the other day.” He paused and drew his eyebrows into a frown. “Michael was a good man at heart, but...he was no saint. Gambling became an addiction. When he lost his savings, he...lost hope. He was ashamed and thought he was out of options.”
Annie heard the grief that vibrated in Jonah’s tone. He sucked in a deep breath and pushed it out through pursed lips. “He...killed himself just over a year ago.”
She gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no. Jonah, I’m so sorry.”
His jaw tightened. “I blame the thugs who stole his money for his death. That’s how I got involved with this investigation. I wanted retribution for Michael. I wanted to shut down the bastards’ operation and bring them to justice.”
“Alone?”
He sighed and glanced away. “For the most part. Right now I’m just getting information, trying to figure out who’s involved, how the operation is run. When I have all my facts laid out, enough proof to hang these guys, I’ll take it to the authorities. But I don’t want anyone, even someone on the fringes of this thing, to get away. I want solid information, hard evidence that no judge can toss out, no lawyer can explain away.”
The passion in his voice fueled the fire inside Annie, the determination she had to free herself from the danger she’d unwittingly landed in. If she wanted to keep her kids safe, if she wanted to protect herself and still scrabble out a living, the criminals at the diner had to be stopped.
But she wouldn’t sit back and leave it to Jonah to bring the men involved to justice. She would not be a victim again, would not passively let someone ruin her life again as Walt had done.
Screwing up her courage, Annie balled her fists and pulled her shoulders back. “I want to help. I can search Hardin’s office for files or financial records, or—”
“No.” Jonah shook his head.
Irritation tickled her gut. “But I have access to his office and can—”
“No! I can’t let you get in this mess any deeper. It’s too dangerous.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s not your decision whether I’m involved or not. And I’m already in danger. You said so yourself.”
“Think of your kids, Annie. You can’t put yourself in harm’s—”
“I am thinking of my kids! The sooner we build a case against these creeps, the sooner I can get my life back.”
“Not we. Let me handle this. The only reason I told you what was going on is because you needed to be aware, be alert. So you could protect yourself. But now, with Hardin’s murder, the stakes are higher. I have to be careful how I proceed. Changing anything now about the cover I’ve set up might tip someone off.”
She pictured Hardin’s bullet-riddled body and almost changed her mind. The idea of being so vulnerable, with an unknown enemy lurking, lying in wait, scared her senseless. She swallowed the bitter taste of fear in her throat and raised her chin. “All the more reason to let me search Hardin’s office. You don’t have the opportunity and the access I have. I can do this. I have to do this. I can’t let fear or danger dictate my life again.”
Jonah surged off the couch and strode over to her. “Look, I know how much you want this all to be over, and I respect your courage and willingness to help, but—”
“Courage?” She gave him a humorless laugh. “It’s not courage, Jonah. It’s desperation. Panic. I’m scared to death, but I have to do something before the whole situation explodes in my face. If there’s even a chance I could be on their hit list because of that stolen money, I have to act. I won’t sit by and risk my children getting hurt by this. It’s necessity, not courage.”
He cupped her cheek in his massive hand and stroked her jaw with his thumb. The comforting gesture sent ribbons of sweet sensation coursing through her, muddling her thoughts.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” he murmured, his low voice stroking her, adding to the pleasant hum vibrating from deep inside her. “Leaving your husband, starting over, standing up for what’s right...you had to have a lot of courage to do all you’ve done. Being brave isn’t the absence of fear—”
“It’s doing what you must despite the fear. I know, I know.” With a disgruntled sigh and a nod, she lifted her hand to his wrist and pulled away from his deliciously distracting touch. She needed to stay focused on the problem at hand. “Ginny practically tattooed that saying on my forehead. So, fine, call it what you want, but I need to help. Don’t shut me out of this, Jonah.”
He shook his head again. “If you want to do something
to protect yourself, then go to the self-defense class at the police station we talked about. But stay out of this.”
She raised her chin. “Fine. I’ll go to the class. But I’m tired of sitting back while the world stomps all over me. I have to do something—with or without your help.”
“Annie—” His dark brow lowered, and his eyes narrowed to slits. “If I agree to let you help, do you promise you’ll follow my instructions? No going it alone or taking unnecessary risks. Understood?”
Her pulse fluttered with anticipation and dread. “I promise.”
“Remember, these people have a lot of money at stake, and if they suspect you of meddling in the operation or feeding information to the police, they’ll kill you without asking questions.”
Her stomach pitched, but she steeled her nerves. She had no choice but to help Jonah. She couldn’t live under this cloud of fear, couldn’t bear the idea of her children living under a threat of danger. Wishing she weren’t in this predicament didn’t make it so.
“You promise you’ll go to the class?” he asked, his eyes drilling hers.
She raised a hand. “Promise.”
Sighing his resignation, Jonah drew her to the sofa and pulled her down onto the cushions beside him. “All right. Let’s make some plans. I don’t want to leave anything to chance. We have too much at stake.”
* * *
Jonah angled the seat in his truck to a more comfortable position, settling in for the long night ahead. Annie would balk at the idea of him camping out on the street to watch her apartment, but the stakes in this case kept getting higher. He remembered her saying she’d thought someone followed her to work the day before. Coupled with Hardin’s murder, he wasn’t about to leave her home unguarded.
Acid flooded his gut when he thought of Annie becoming involved in his investigation. He should never have agreed to let her help him, but what choice did he have? He’d seen the determination and passion that fired her eyes. She’d have acted on her own if he hadn’t let her help him. At least this way, he could keep closer tabs on her involvement.
He scanned the parking lot and the oak-tree-lined yard. Everything was quiet, dark, still. A stark contrast to the turmoil writhing inside him.
Telling her about his abuse, his history with Michael and his mentor’s suicide had been wrenching. Painful. He never relived those memories if he could help it. But Annie had asked him point-blank, and she wouldn’t have been satisfied with evasion or half-truths. He needed her to trust him.
The question he was left with, however, was where did they go from here? He couldn’t deny his attraction to her. His feelings went deeper than the protective instincts she aroused in him. But given her history, knowing the hardships she’d already survived, he was the last person she needed in her life.
Even after he’d explained to her how he’d gotten involved with sparring, explained how the physical outlet for his emotions kept him sane, he’d seen the doubts and disapproval in her body language. She wanted nothing to do with any form of violence, even the controlled, therapeutic version he practiced at the gym.
Not to mention the fact that any future with Annie had to include being a father figure to her kids. And his only example of fatherhood was the horrid one his father had set. What kind of father would he be?
The notion of having a family, sharing his life with a wife and being a role model for children left him in a cold sweat. He wanted those things, deeply, but only if he was sure he could give his family what his father hadn’t. Love. Security. Happiness.
He didn’t have a clue where to begin creating a healthy family life. It wasn’t that he feared he’d physically hurt Annie or her kids—he’d cut his hand off before he’d raise it against them—but there were so many other ways to fail a family. He’d be damned if he’d repeat his father’s mistakes, but he didn’t have any other point of reference. On the job, he’d faced down armed gangbangers without a second thought. But being a husband or father, being in a position to screw up the lives of those you love, scared the hell out of him.
Which left him with only one option. Never marry. Never have children. Never recreate the hellish existence that had passed for his childhood home.
Jonah dragged in a lungful of oxygen, his chest knotting with regret. As much as he wanted his own family, as much as he wanted Annie, he was destined to be alone.
Chapter 11
Two days later, the police released the murder scene, and the diner reopened. Annie arrived early for the breakfast shift, hoping to look around in Hardin’s office before the diner filled with the morning rush.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, trying to calm the battalion of butterflies swooping in her gut as she stepped through the swinging door into the kitchen. The images and smells of the last time she’d walked through this door were all too fresh in her mind.
Enough dawdling. She had limited time before the rest of the kitchen help and waitstaff arrived. And the interim manager. Who would take Hardin’s place and was he connected to the money laundering the way Hardin was?
She had no doubt whoever was in charge of the illegal operation would handpick Hardin’s replacement.
Sucking in a calming breath, Annie pushed through the door and surveyed the kitchen as she crept cautiously back to the manager’s office. Would the police have removed the financial records and computer drive for their investigation of Hardin’s murder? What were the odds that, had there been any proof of money laundering before Hardin’s death, the men responsible for his murder would have left any evidence behind to incriminate themselves?
Annie reached the door of the office and, knees shaking, turned the corner into the cramped office. No trace of blood or death remained, other than the faint chemical smell of the cleaner used to erase the evidence a man had been shot and bled to death on this floor.
An uneasy jitter crawled through Annie, but she shoved down her discomfort and set to work. She started with the file cabinet in the corner. The disarray of the papers and the haphazard order of the contents told her that someone had already rifled through the papers. But had it been the police...or Hardin’s murderer?
Order forms and delivery slips from various grocery vendors were jumbled together with personnel applications and insurance documents. Records of health inspector visits had been jammed to the back of the top drawer, but she saw nothing resembling a financial ledger or a computer spreadsheet of expenses and profits.
Of course not.
Did she really think it would be that easy? That she’d flip through a few files until she found a neat and organized record of all past criminal activity along with a typed and signed confession of those involved?
She scoffed. Anything she found would be far more subtle. Just a piece of a bigger picture.
She moved on from the file cabinet to Hardin’s desk. She rummaged through the center drawer but found nothing beyond basic office supplies and an opened pack of cigarettes. Next she searched the deep side drawer where it appeared the most recent paperwork was kept. As she fingered through the files, she realized the kind of evidence she was interested in wouldn’t be kept in the obvious places. Evidence of wrongdoing would be hidden. Protected.
Was there a safe? A bank lockbox?
She pulled the drawer all the way out and felt behind the hanging files. Nothing. Same with the next drawer she searched. Then, on an impulse, she pulled the center drawer all the way out, off its tracks, and emptied the contents onto the desk. As she flipped the drawer, her heart sank when she found nothing stuck to the underside other than a wad of very old gum.
“Looking for something?” a deep voice growled behind her.
Gasping, she whirled around, her heart hammering at the dark glower she met.
Martin Farrout.
A chill washed through Annie as she faced Farrout’s intimidating glare. “Uh, sir, the kitchen is for employees only.”
His black eyebrows beaded. “I’m well aware of that. And from now on this office
is off-limits to anyone but the new manager.” He paused a moment, his head cocked at a haughty angle.
A staggering heartbeat later, understanding dawned through the muddle of her spinning thoughts. “You’re—”
“The new boss. Yes. So what are you doing snooping in my office?”
Annie’s breath backed up in her lungs. “I—I was looking for—” She glanced at the mess she’d dumped from the center drawer. Grabbing the first item she saw, she held the opened pack of cigarettes out. “These. I...needed a smoke. Hardin let me have his when—”
“So you got ’em. Now beat it.”
She jerked a nod, praying she’d returned the other drawers to enough order that he couldn’t tell the full extent of her searching.
Scrunching the cigarette pack in her hand, she hustled out past the large man. He refused to step aside, so she was forced to turn sideways and sidle out of the office. Heart thundering, she rushed out to the dining room, where Lydia was chatting with the first breakfast customers. The older woman glanced at the cigarettes Annie squeezed and propped a hand on her hip. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
Annie pressed her free hand to her chest, struggling to calm her ragged breathing. “I don’t.”
Lydia gave a meaningful nod toward Annie’s fist. “What are those for, then?”
Annie glanced down at her hand and sighed. “Nothing. I...was just—” She stopped herself, realizing something hard and distinctly uncigarette-like poked her hand through the paper packaging.
“The first step to quitting is admitting you have a problem,” Lydia said with a teasing grin and a bump from her hip as she headed out to the tables.
Annie turned her back to the customers sitting at the counter and upended the crushed pack. Several bent cigarettes slid out—along with a small silver key that pinged as it clattered onto the counter. Why did Hardin have a key in his cigarettes? What did the key go to? She studied it, turning it over in her hand, her pulse picking up. Folding the key into her palm, she peeked into the packaging to be sure she hadn’t missed anything else. Empty.
The Reunion Mission: The Reunion MissionTall Dark Defender Page 28