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?
Forbidden? She certainly had no business taunting herself with a physical relationship that could never be. She had no room in her life for a man, and she didn’t do one-night stands.
Confusing? Jonah’s fighting skills, his brute strength and size contradicted the compassionate concern he’d shown her and his gentleness when he’d touched her. So who was the real Jonah?
Intimidating? More than her ever-present fear of physical violence, Jonah’s uncanny ability to read her, to guess her motivations, predict her responses and see through her excuses left Annie off balance.
“I wanted you to know I understood what you’d been through.”
Even Ginny didn’t claim to understand the turbulent emotions of Annie’s abusive marriage, the terror, the self-doubt and self-recrimination. But Ginny had been raised in a healthy family, had a loving marriage to a wonderful man.
Jonah claimed he had experience with abuse, had grown up with a violent father. Was it possible he did understand her and the pain of her past?
“Yoo-hoo. Anybody home?” Susan asked, waving a hand in front of Annie and bringing her out of her deep reverie. “Table six is ready for his bill.”
“Thanks.” Annie pushed the distracting thoughts of Jonah aside as she flipped through her order pad and presented the businessman at table six with his check and an apologetic smile. “Sorry for the delay. Can I get you anything else?”
His gaze traveled slowly down her body and back up, lingering on her chest. “That’s all today—” his focus shifted quickly to her name tag before he met her eyes “—Annie.” He put peculiar emphasis on her name, and as he slid out of his booth, his grin could be better characterized as a smirk.
Annie returned to the counter, gritting her teeth. “Why do the smarmy guys always sit at my tables?”
“Luck of the draw. But you don’t have a
monopoly on scumbags.” Susan took a couple of plates from the order window and sent Annie a commiserating look. “Just yesterday, I had a guy in here with his wife, and he grabbed my ass.” She rolled her eyes and huffed in disgust as she carried the orders out to the dining room.
Annie did her best to shake off the heebie-jeebies the creepy businessman gave her and concentrate on her job the rest of the day. But thoughts of Jonah and his encouragement to take the self-defense class offered by the police department returned that afternoon when she left work.
On an impulse, Annie bypassed her bus stop and headed to the Lagniappe Women’s Center. The staff at the center, in particular her counselor, Ginny Sinclair, had been instrumental in helping her leave Walt sixteen months ago. Ginny and her husband, Riley, had risked their lives to save her and her children and had become dear friends of Annie’s. When Annie needed perspective, encouragement and straight answers, Ginny was always there for her.
Today, she needed a dose of Ginny’s honesty and understanding.
Annie smiled to the receptionist as she made her way to Ginny’s office door and knocked. Hearing Ginny call, “Come in,” Annie cracked the door open and peeked in.
Her blond-haired counselor cradled her phone to her ear but smiled broadly when Annie stepped into the office. She waved Annie to a chair and rocked forward in her seat. “Gotta go, babe. Annie just arrived. I will. Love you, too.”
Ginny sighed happily as she replaced the receiver, then lifted a glowing grin to Annie. “Riley says hi.”
Annie returned a smile. Ginny’s newlywed bliss was palpable, and Annie couldn’t be happier for her friends, though she experienced a pinch of envy for the contentment that radiated from Ginny’s eyes. Would she ever find that pure joy with a man or would Walt always cast a shadow over her?
Taking a chair opposite Ginny’s desk, she took a deep breath. “I know I don’t have an appointment, but I was hoping you had a couple minutes. Something’s happened.”
Ginny frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Annie explained about the attack in the alley and the stolen money, the possibility that the diner was the hub of illegal gambling and money laundering. “Jonah thinks I could be in danger. He wants me to take a self-defense class, and he—”
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