by Dale Mayer
She stared at him. “Did you even listen to me?”
“I listened. Obviously you need more food than a green salad. And, even if you’re only a little bit hurt, your body needs to heal. You were still in shock when I arrived, and that means you need food, real food.”
“I’m not in shock,” she protested.
“Yes, you are. Your hands are still trembling. You’re still wrapping your arms around your body from being cold and wet. If something happened to you before we ran into each other, literally, that’s just added to the effect. What were you running from?”
She turned to stare at the pouring rain outside the window. “I’d just left the office and was heading to the bank. It’s a fair distance, so I cut through alleys to get there on my break. In a hurry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she said in a low tone. “It’s not your fault.”
“And yet I feel like it is,” he said gently. “I did not stop in time. And it really bothers me to think you might end up walking out of here with what appears to be a minor injury but could end up becoming much worse.”
“I’m fine. I have no pain anywhere.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“But you really don’t believe me, do you?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, but, when somebody’s in shock, they aren’t always aware of how badly injured they are.” His lips quirked. “Until later when it’s often too late.”
She slumped back into her chair and just stared out the window. But she did pick up her coffee cup and took a sip. The cup trembled in her hand.
He wanted to reach over and hold her hand steady, letting her know she’d be fine—he’d make sure of it.
She jerkily moved her hand forward and finally set the cup down again. Even getting a little bit of coffee into her seemed to help. It put some life back in her eyes.
“Are you ready to tell me what happened before we collided?”
She shook her head. “I have no intention of telling you anything.”
As he suspected. Something had terrified her into running, and that’s why she’d ended up in the road where she shouldn’t have been. He certainly didn’t let himself off the hook. His reaction should’ve been faster. Yet the rain was so heavy, it had been hard to see.
“Do you live in Houston?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ve been here for a few years.” Giving him a small sideways look, she asked, “You?”
“I’ve been here a couple months now,” he confessed. “A friend of mine and I moved out here for jobs with the same company.”
“Oh, that’s nice that the two of you came at the same time.”
He shrugged. “We work for Legendary Security. We were both in the navy, so leaving at the same time and moving here was actually a good deal on both our parts. We’ve been buddies for a long time, so we didn’t really want to find jobs across the world and have to start over without anybody there beside us.”
“Having friends makes everything easier.” She reached out a hand and added a bit more cream to her coffee.
He frowned as he noticed her translucent skin and the big bruise on the back of her hand. “You look like you never eat.”
She raised her gaze, studying him for a long moment. “I’m getting better now.”
“Were you sick?” he asked, his tone sharp.
She shook her head. “Emotionally traumatized. I lost my husband eighteen months ago. I came close to fading away. I just didn’t care anymore. But I turned a corner a few months ago, and I’ve been slowly regaining my strength.”
She picked up her coffee and took several more sips as she again stared out the window.
He knew she wasn’t seeing anything out there but was staring more into the long line of years behind her. “I’m sorry. That’s very difficult.”
“It was very difficult. He was sick. When he went in for tests, they found he had stage four cancer. He was gone within six months. There was just no time to even adapt, to get through treatment or even try to fight. He was there, and then he was too sick to be anywhere but in the hospital. He was moved to the hospital so damn fast, and we just didn’t realize how quickly everything would be over.” She shook her head, clenching her fingers together. “We’d only been married six months before he got really ill.”
“At least you had those first six months,” he said gently.
She gave him a tremulous smile. “It took me a long time to see that. But you’re right. Still, when you lose somebody, it’s hard not to rail against the injustices of the world, not to cry and not to be angry because you’re the one left behind, the people you love all gone. I dived into my work and ended up volunteering after-hours. I did everything I could to work myself to the bone, so I couldn’t feel. To just delay getting home and trying to sleep at night so I could get up and do it all over again. I lost a lot of weight, and it wasn’t exactly a healthy lifestyle. But it took quite a while for me to sleep and even more time to get up without tears in my eyes.”
“Even eighteen months isn’t very long for grieving.”
“No, but it’s long enough,” she said. “I realized quite a few months ago I had to do something about my downward spiral, and Rick would be very upset with me if he knew I was letting myself decline to that extent. He always asked me to take care of myself. It’s not that I wasn’t able or capable, it just never occurred to me. I’d go without several meals and not really notice, and then suddenly I’d be super hungry and have to eat.”
“Regular meals are necessary to keep your energy up.”
“Why would I want to keep my energy up? I wanted to come home and to drop off to sleep until the next day. It was only through sleep that I could forget the pain of what I’d lost.”
Just then the waitress walked over with two large platters.
Dakota looked at the stacked burger with appreciation. He’d have to remember this place. “This looks great,” he said.
He studied the platter in front of Bailey. The burger was just as big as his with a decent size salad too. He picked up his burger carefully—large enough that he needed two hands to hold it—and took a big bite. Real meat, barbecued perfectly on a grill, just the way he liked it.
Together they munched in silence, enjoying the hot food and being inside the warm café. When he finished his burger, he turned his platter and offered her some fries.
She shook her head. “It’ll be all I can do to eat my own.”
“I suspect you didn’t have any breakfast this morning, did you?”
She shook her head. “No, I had breakfast a long time ago.” She sighed heavily. “You probably shouldn’t be talking to me. Or be seen with me in any way.”
He raised an eyebrow in question. “Why’s that?” He popped a french fry into his mouth and chewed.
She shook her head again but wouldn’t explain.
He knew there was more to the story, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to get it out of her. “What are you running from?”
She gave a broken laugh. “That’s why you shouldn’t be talking to me. For all I know, you’re in trouble now.”
“How?” He tried to keep his tone gentle and undemanding, but no way was he letting her off the hook with this. He needed to know what had happened.
She shook her head and continued to eat her salad. The waitress came back and topped off her coffee.
He let her eat in silence for a few more moments and then said, “Tell me what is wrong.”
She looked at him. “You can’t fix it. And I’m not putting anybody else in danger.”
“What danger?”
She just shrugged but kept silent.
“Remember I work for a private security company? Remember I was in the navy? Handling danger is what I do. I help people in trouble.”
“Maybe, but you do it for money, and that’s not something I have. And this is too dangerous, even for you.”
He sat back, shifting sideways on the chair, figuring out how to get her to open up. He
was more a “if the hammer didn’t work, then bring in a sledgehammer” type of guy. But that approach didn’t work well with women. He needed to find the key to helping her relax.
“Money isn’t the issue,” he said gently. “If I can do anything to help, you need to tell me.”
This time her headshake was emphatic. “Thank you for lunch,” she said. “I have to go to the ladies’ room. Excuse me please.”
She stood up, grabbed her purse and walked past him. Having sat for the last hour, her body was stiff, and he could see her limp was more pronounced. He swore under his breath. He really needed to look at her leg. She was also slightly hunched over, and he knew that was to protect her ribs. It was possible she had cracked one or two. He hoped it was just bruising instead, but he knew even that would take a long time to heal. He watched until she walked past the rest of the tables and went into the women’s bathroom. Then he waited.
*
Inside the bathroom Bailey stared at her reflection in the mirror, hating to see the huge bags under her eyes and the fear still lurking in the background. “What the hell has happened to my life?” she whispered to her reflection.
She used the facilities and turned back to the sink, washing her hands as she embraced the heat of the water. She was so cold inside and out, and her body was stiff and sore. She certainly didn’t blame him. She’d run smack into his vehicle. A damn good thing he wasn’t going any faster and had deflected the impact, as she probably would’ve been killed or severely injured at least.
She took a moment to brush her hair as she gathered her thoughts. She didn’t know what to say or what to tell him to make him happy enough to leave her alone. He was just a little too determined to keep her close. She was hoping she’d escape from the restaurant without him seeing her leave. It meant sticking him with the bill, but, since he’d offered, she didn’t feel guilty. Not to mention he had ordered three times the food she would have.
A knock came on the door. She quickly dried off her hands, wiped her face, tossed the paper towel into the garbage can and opened the door. She smiled at the middle-aged woman and stepped out. Then she searched the restaurant, looking for a way to get past Dakota. A large noisy crowd of office workers came in as a group. They walked past him, heading for a table between the two of them.
Quickly she joined the crowd, eased to the outside of the group, getting past Dakota’s table, and made it to the front door. She opened the door and slipped outside.
The rain had eased up, which was a good thing. She was still so very cold. She needed to get home, and she needed to get home now.
She turned the corner at the closest intersection and crossed the road. Just as she stepped up on the far side, a hand grabbed her elbow gently. And she knew without turning around it was Dakota. “You should let me go.”
“We’ll go around to my truck, then I’ll take you home. You shouldn’t be walking around in the rain when you’re injured,” he said firmly.
She shook her head. “I live a few blocks away.”
“Good, then it won’t take very long to get you home.”
She couldn’t protest without causing a lot of attention, and that wasn’t something she wanted.
She let him lead her around to the alleyway and help her into his large black SUV. Inside she was dry and warm and comfortable. She settled back into the deep seat and buckled up.
When he got in and turned on the vehicle, he pivoted and looked at her. “Where are we going?”
She gave him a few simple directions, and, a couple minutes later, they pulled up in front of her apartment building, with visitor parking on the street. He turned off the engine, hopped out and came around to her side. She wondered at his sense of chivalry, that he opened the door and reached up to help her down. Maybe he was just afraid she would sue him, when, in truth, all she wanted was to be left alone.
He led her up the apartment building steps. “What’s the number?”
She punched a number in for the security code. When the buzzer released, he pulled open the door and motioned for her to go in. He followed her straight to the elevators, where one waited for them. He walked in with her and pressed the third floor.
She smiled. “Are you always so observant?”
“Always.”
And she believed him. She wished he was the kind of person she could call on to help her. But he was a good man, and she didn’t want him to get hurt. “I can’t tell you, you know.”
“You will tell me.”
She frowned at him. “No. I won’t. I can’t get you hurt too.”
He rounded on her. “Who hurt you?”
She took a step back and shook her head. “Not me.”
He studied her for a long moment while the elevator slowly continued to climb. “Did you see somebody hurt somebody else? Did you see a crime committed?”
She winced. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
“Don’t stall. This is important and time-sensitive. Did you see a crime committed?”
When the elevator doors opened, they both stepped through and walked to her apartment door. She put her keys into the lock and pushed her door open. She stepped inside, and he came in behind her.
“Answer the question.”
She took a deep breath and slowly nodded. Now that they were inside her apartment, and she wouldn’t be overheard, she had fewer qualms about telling him. If he was so determined to push his nose into her business, well, maybe this would finally scare him off.
She took another deep breath. “I saw the mayor of Houston standing in an alleyway beside another man. They were talking to a third man. The man at the mayor’s side took out a small black handgun, and he shot the third guy, in the chest. He dropped to the ground. Looked dead already to me. While the mayor just stood there, watching.”
“This morning? You saw that happen this morning?
She nodded. “And they saw me. That’s why I ran. I didn’t expect to see anybody there. I was just cutting through the back way. But I saw them. I turned and ran right into you.”
“That might’ve been the worst morning of your life,” he said with a gentle smile, “but running into me will make a shady day a great deal better.”
“That’s very …” She closed her mouth, searching for a word.
He reached out, tilted her chin toward him. “No, it’s not conceited or arrogant. It’s the truth. Because I’ll help you, whether you like it or not.”
Chapter 2
Bailey didn’t even know what to make of that statement. It had been a long time since she’d had anybody to share her burdens with. This man wanted to take them on even when they weren’t his own.
She shook her head. “I can’t have anybody hurt on my account.” She turned to close the door. “Thank you for bringing me home.”
He nodded, his gaze searching her small space from where he stood.
“What are you looking for?” she asked curiously.
“Your security. Looking for weaknesses, for places your defenses could be weak.”
She shrugged. “I’m on the third-floor, and the most anybody can do is get in the front door.”
“Do you have a balcony?” He walked over to the double French doors and opened them. He stepped out on the three-foot-wide balcony and stared over the edge. Apparently satisfied, he nodded and came back in. “You sleep with the windows and doors closed and locked?”
She shook her head. “No. When it’s hot out, I sleep with everything open.”
“Well, for the next few days, you sleep with them closed and locked, okay?”
“It won’t make any difference. If an intruder is determined to get in, he will get in.”
“Absolutely true,” he said in surprise approval. “I’m glad you realize that. Because this isn’t the safest place you could stay.”
“No, but it’s my space. And that matters a lot to me.”
He gave her a nod, did a quick walk-through to make sure the place was okay.
She
motioned toward the master bedroom. “Be my guest.” She didn’t mind him doing this at all. Besides, she would do it herself before she slept tonight. If sleep was possible. “Should I tell the police?”
He came out of her master bedroom and smiled. “Absolutely. My problem with that is, do you know anybody you can trust?”
She sucked in her breath with her arms over her chest. “Are you thinking the police won’t help me?”
“If it was the mayor, then he will have people in place, in positions below him, keeping this quiet.”
She grimaced. “In other words, some bad cops could be involved.”
“There could be,” he emphasized. “There are very few dirty cops in the world, at least in North America. The problem is, sometimes they get brought into a project without understanding all the ramifications or the different avenues interlocked in the project—avenues on the shady side. Some will believe you are lying to discredit the mayor.”
“But why would I do that?”
“The police see stuff like this all the time. You wouldn’t be the first, and you won’t be the last. Just tell the police what you saw. First you should write everything down exactly as you saw it, with as much detail as you can remember, so you have something to refer to. The police will ask you about every detail. And you want to be clear.”
“That makes sense.”
She walked into the kitchen, opened a drawer and pulled out a small notepad. She took it over to the kitchen table and sat down. She should’ve thought to do this earlier. Not that she’d had time. Besides, shock was a devious thing. And it really destroyed her ability to function in any calm, reasonable way.
It took a bit to focus, but, when she eventually did, she carefully wrote down everything, from what she saw to describing the clothes the men wore, the sound of the bullets. She didn’t have any details on the man who had been shot. She’d seen his face and that he wore dark clothing. She’d presumed it was a business transaction gone wrong between the three of them.