by Julie Miller
Her feet throbbed with the length of her day at school and the long night at the diner. But tips had been good, she’d timed it just right so that she didn’t have to wait outside in the cold for the bus to arrive and she’d had enough time on her last break to get on her laptop and track down the last source for the paper she was writing for her English language learners class. Except for that phone call and those two yahoos in the back, nights like this were all worth it, right?
She’d made the mistake of making eye contact with Jordan and Harve when they’d first stumbled onto the bus at the stop after hers. Apparently, a brief glance had been invitation enough for the two drunks to slide into the seats next to and across the aisle from her, introduce themselves and start hitting on her. At first, she’d thought they might try to rob her when Jordan had put his hands on the backpack in her lap and leaned into her. But then Harve had grabbed his crotch and run his tongue around his chapped lips, and she realized they weren’t after money or her computer.
“Mr. Lee?” She’d wasted no time calling out to the fatherly Black man driving the bus. He’d ordered the two booze-scented men—one with scraggly red peach fuzz on his jaw that blended into the tattoos on his neck, and the other sporting a chest-length beard that had a broken pretzel stuck in it—to move, or he’d call the police and drop them off at the next stop.
With much vocal protest and a stumble onto a seat with a startled young man whose earbuds had tuned them out up to that intrusion, they’d made their way to the back of the bus, where they continued to be a nuisance to anyone with a pair of boobs between the ages of eighteen and fifty. And since Corie was currently the only passenger left who fit that description tonight, she was bearing the brunt of their lewd noises and whispered innuendoes.
“Just one drink, sugar?” That would be Harve, with the snack stuck in his facial hair. “We could have a nightcap at your place.”
Once upon a time, when she was young and naive and believed every man could be a hero, she would have turned to Kenny to make them stop. And no doubt, with his resources and criminal connections, he would have. But that was before she realized he’d be protecting his property—not her feelings of fear or discomfort. Kenny would have made a threat or punched one of those rummies or tracked them down and torched their car to make the point that nobody embarrassed him by putting a move on the woman—or anything else—he considered his.
Tonight, she had to deal with this kind of crap on her own.
Or find an ally she could actually trust to have her best interests at heart.
Corie met the driver’s gaze in his rearview mirror and silently pleaded for his help. “Knock it off!” he ordered, quieting the pair temporarily. “Sorry about that, Ms. Corie.”
“Corie? Your name’s Corie?”
“Corie what, sugar?”
The driver grumbled a curse and shook his head, realizing too late that he’d just given those two losers more information about her. Although she offered him a reassuring smile, she hoped Mr. Lee didn’t repeat his threat about putting them off at the next stop because the next stop was hers. At least, here on the bus, she had the relative safety of the other passengers and driver to protect her—or at least bear witness to the harassment if anything should happen to her. Corie still had a cold walk back to her apartment once she stepped off this bus. She didn’t relish being alone at night for the block and a half it would take her to get safely inside the locked foyer of her building if those men decided to follow her.
As the bus turned onto Wyandotte and drove up the hill toward her stop, Corie peeled off her gloves and stuffed them into her coat pockets. Potential frostbite would take a back seat to security tonight. Then she dug into her bag and pulled out her cell phone and pepper spray, squeezing one in each hand. She might not be able to outmuscle or outrun Jordan and Harve if they should decide to follow her and prolong this torture, but she could outthink them. She could plan ahead and give herself options for escape. Then she shrugged her backpack onto her shoulders and prepared to book it as fast as she could to her building. If there was one thing she’d learned from her years with Kenny, it was to be prepared for any-and everything.
And to do whatever was necessary to keep herself and Evan safe.
Moving quickly, she slid out of her seat and hurried down the aisle to sit in the very first seat beside the stairs. She intended to be down the steps and out the door just as soon as it opened.
“Whoa. Slow down, sugar. We’ll walk you home.” Jordan lurched to his feet, with Harve shuffling after him.
“Sit down,” Carl Lee ordered when he saw them coming down the aisle behind her. “This isn’t your stop.” He glanced across the aisle and whispered to Corie, “You hustle on out of here the moment I stop. I’ll try to keep them inside.”
Harve snickered and plopped down in the spot behind Corie, dangling his arm over the top of her seat. “Maybe we need some fresh air, old man.” She jerked away when his fingers brushed against her ponytail. “Besides, we wouldn’t want our little woman walking home by herself so late now, would we?”
Corie practically threw herself against the partition in front of her seat and whirled around to tell the creep to back off. “I am not your little woman, and I don’t need you to walk me home.”
Mistake! She’d engaged them. Now they saw her response as a personal invitation to increase their taunts. “Ooh, she’s feistier than I thought she was going to be.” Jordan grinned from ear to ear.
“I like ’em feisty.” Harve rose to his feet, and his long beard fell over the top of her seat. How she’d dearly love to yank it as hard as she could. Maybe he’d bite his tongue when his chin hit the seat, and that would shut him up.
Both men laughed. Mr. Lee muttered something under his breath and pulled his radio from the dash. Was he going to report these two? Call the police?
She turned her back to the men as the brakes hissed and the bus began to slow. She tapped 9-1-1 into her own phone and prepared to push the call button if she had to.
Then she peered through the glass and saw the tall man standing beneath the shell of the bus stop. Silhouetted against the fluorescent lights, his height and bulk were emphasized by the insulated winter coat he wore. Like a beacon in the midst of a stormy sea, Matt Taylor’s broad shoulders and immovable presence showed her the way to the safe harbor she needed.
Relief, gratitude beyond measure and maybe even anticipation surged through her veins and she shot to her feet. Bless his big, bad self for showing up and being the friend she needed right now.
“Matt!” Corie was down the stairs and out the door the moment it opened.
Without any hesitation or warning, she launched herself at him. She shoved her phone and pepper spray into her pockets and grabbed the collar of his coat with both fists, pulling him toward her as she stretched up on tiptoe and pushed her lips against his. His startled breath didn’t surprise her—she hadn’t given him much of a heads-up. But she didn’t expect his firm mouth to slide over hers in answer to her desperate ploy. She didn’t expect the rasp of his late-night beard stubble to tease her skin with its own subtle caress. She didn’t expect the frisson of heat that tingled across her lips and shocked much-needed warmth into her blood when his mouth settled over hers in a brief, potent kiss.
The kiss was longer than she intended, shorter than she wanted, and left the ground shaking beneath her feet as she dropped to her heels. Matt’s lips chased after hers as gravity broke the contact between them. And Corie was far too tempted to palm the back of the black stocking cap he wore and guide his mouth right back to where she wanted it.
But the bus driver’s warning to the men behind her reminded her that throwing herself at Matt was a survival tactic, not a mutual routine she had any right to pursue. She swallowed her shock and forced herself to continue the charade, although she could only manage a breathless whisper. “Hi, sweetheart.”
> “Sweetheart?” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms and his face hovered above hers, frowning in confusion until he heard Harve and Jordan’s harassment.
“Hey, sugar, wait for us.” The bearded man scrambled to the stairs behind her. “Don’t you close these doors, old man.”
“You said we’d have smooth sailin’ with her, Harve. If I have to mess with that guy, then I want extra—”
“Shut up, Jordy.”
Corie didn’t need to explain her overly friendly greeting.
Matt’s expression was cold, fierce and eerily silent as he lifted his gaze and looked over the top of her head to meet Jordan and Harve. He pried Corie’s hands from the front of his coat and moved around her. Straightening to his towering height, he didn’t have to say a word to stop the two men in their tracks.
Jordan toppled onto the curb in his haste to back away from the imposing welcome. Harve grabbed the sleeve of Jordan’s coat and tugged him to his feet and up the stairs. “Get on back here, Jordy. This isn’t our stop, after all.” His dark eyes rounded like shiny black beetles as he nodded to Corie. “We’ll be seeing you, Ms. Corie.”
Jordan puckered his lips. “Bye-bye, sugar.”
Just as Corie flinched back half a step at that final unwanted gesture, Matt strode forward. He boarded the bus, each step a purposeful stride. He stopped beside the driver and watched Harve and Jordan beat a hasty retreat down the aisle, all the way to their seats at the back. Then Matt lifted his coat to pull out his billfold and hand a business card to Mr. Lee. “You see those two hassling Corie again, you call me.”
“Kansas City’s Bravest.” Carl took the card and nodded his ready agreement. “Yes, sir. You all be safe now.”
“Good night, Mr. Lee,” Corie called up to him as Matt rejoined her. “Thank you.”
“Good night, Ms. Corie. Mr. Taylor.” The Black man nodded and closed the door. With the hum of the motor grinding into gear, the bus pulled away.
A chill from the damp, wintry air seeped through the wool of her coat and Corie hugged her arms around her waist. But the cold temperature wasn’t the only thing that made her shiver. Harve and Jordan pressed their faces to the back windows, their eyes only leaving her when the two high-fived each other over the top of the seat.
She startled at Matt’s touch and the sudden infusion of heat as he draped his arm around her shoulders and tucked her to his side. Playing his part of half a couple even better than she was playing hers, he was also watching the two men until the lights from the bus stop and streetlamp could no longer pierce the windows and her tormenters were swallowed up into the shadows.
Corie stood there, leaning into Matt’s warmth long enough for her to realize that she hadn’t put her gloves back on. Though stiff with cold, her fingers were fisted into the padded nylon of his black insulated jacket, clinging to him as though she had every right to attach herself to him for comfort or use him as a human heating pad. Shaking off those survival instincts that seemed to have her continually reaching for him, Corie released her grip and stepped away. She dug her gloves out of her pockets and slipped them back on. “I’m sorry about that kiss. I just...” She glanced down the street where the bus had merged into late-night traffic, then tilted her face to Matt’s. “I needed them to stop. I suspected if they thought I was with you... It worked. Thank you.”
He didn’t seem to hear her apology. Or care that she’d taken advantage of his willingness to help her.
He didn’t have anyone with him, either.
Where was Evan? Kenny had found them!
Corie tamped down the flare of panic that grabbed hold whenever she didn’t know Evan’s exact location. Too soon to worry. Too soon.
“Do you know those two?” Matt asked.
She shook her head, looking around. No, she hadn’t seen them before tonight. Oh, damn. The panic was winning. They were all alone at this bus stop. There was no child here with them. Her apartment was a block and a half away. Was Evan at home all by himself again? She didn’t see Matt’s truck. There was a small group of patrons outside the bar down the street, huddling up to smoke their cigarettes—but no one anywhere close to Evan’s age. Where was her son? She’d trusted Matt with one job. Okay, maybe two now that Jordan and Harve had inserted themselves into her life tonight—but she’d trusted Matt with the one thing more important than anything else in the world—her son.
“They seemed to know you,” Matt went on matter-of-factly. “Why would they think you’d be an easy mark for them? ‘Smooth sailing’?”
Corie even made the ridiculous move of peeking behind Matt’s broad back, looking for her freckle-faced angel. “Where’s Evan?”
Matt turned so they were facing each other again. His deep, patiently modulated voice barely changed its timbre, even though he hunched his shoulders a fraction to bring his gaze closer to hers and demand she focus on what he was saying. “Sound asleep on my sofa. My brother and his fiancée are with him. Ev is fine. Tell me about those two men.”
Matt’s eyes captured her attention. Unlike Harve’s cold, creepy beetle eyes, their warm brown intensity moved through her like the potent drink they resembled. His coffee-colored eyes calmed her panic and chased away the chill of remembered fears. Evan was safe. Matt was a stand-up, trustworthy man who wouldn’t do anything to endanger her son. He’s not Kenny.
And as rational thought returned, the point Matt was making registered. Was it her imagination, or had Harve sounded remarkably articulate for a drunk who’d been slurring every word a few minutes earlier? “He’s asleep at your place? Evan’s okay?”
“Yes. Are you?” Matt slowly straightened, his gaze never wavering from hers. His gloved hands fisted down at his sides, relaxed, then fisted again, as though he wanted to reach for her, but was holding himself back from making contact.
She wouldn’t have minded. After the past six years of avoiding men—at first because she’d assumed they were all like Kenny and his thuggish cohorts, and later because work, school and being a hypervigilant single mom didn’t allow time for relationships—she wouldn’t have minded if Matt Taylor reached for her, at all.
Corie’s lips relaxed into a wry smile and she nodded. “I’m fine. Thanks to you.” Whether Matt was being exceedingly patient or endearingly shy, Corie wanted that connection he was too polite to initiate. She’d once been a confident young woman who’d gone after what her mother had told her she wanted—what she naively thought she’d wanted, too—until a kidnapping and death threats and Kenny’s violent, obsessive world had scared that brave young woman into submission. It was nice to feel a little of her confidence returning with this man. She slipped her arm through Matt’s and stepped toward the curb. “Could we head home now?”
“As long as you talk to me.” He rested a leather-gloved hand over hers where she clung to his forearm, revealing that he liked sharing that friendly link with her, too, and didn’t want her pulling away. The man was warm, and he made her feel safe. And his kiss had awakened something dormant and too-long ignored inside her. She wasn’t going anywhere.
Falling into step beside him, Corie shared the bare bones of her bus ride home. “They got on at the stop just after the diner. You know—too much to drink and not enough action at whatever bar they’d come out of. I tried to keep my head down, but they spotted me, decided I was their chosen target. Mr. Lee told them to move—and they did. But that didn’t shut them up. Then they became a nuisance to everyone on the bus. Only now I wonder if it was all an act. Harve seemed to sober up pretty quickly once you showed up.”
“I have that effect on people.”
Whether he meant to be funny or not, Corie smiled and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. The material of his jacket was cold against her skin, but she savored the supple hardness and promised warmth of the muscle she felt underneath. They crossed the street and walked a whole block like that, with Corie hugging he
rself around Matt’s arm and his hand covering hers. Matt’s bulk blocked the worst of the wind, and his ever-watchful eyes that scanned their surroundings and occasionally settled on her made her feel protected. Simply walking down the street arm in arm with Matt felt normal. Intimate. And far more romantic than any grand gesture Kenny had ever used to try to charm her. “It’s just weird. Weird things are happening around me lately,” she admitted. “First the fires, and I think someone’s been in my apartment. That stupid phone call. Now those two idiots giving me grief.”
“What phone call?”
Corie’s breath clouded on a puff of frustration. Had she actually said that out loud? She tried to explain in a way that didn’t make her sound like the completely paranoid woman she was. “A voice mail from my attorney’s assistant in St. Louis. There was a fire in their office.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
“My attorney sustained minor injuries, but he’s doing fine now. I guess they lost several documents in the fire.”
“Were any of the destroyed documents yours?”
She shrugged. She had immediately imagined the worst, but she truly didn’t know. “It was just an FYI call.”
Matt’s fingers tightened briefly on hers before he slid his hands into the pockets of his coat. She might have imagined him hugging his elbows to his torso, keeping their arms linked together, encouraging her to remain at his side. But as he glanced over her head to track the line of cars and trucks coming through the intersection behind them as the lights changed, she sensed something about his posture had changed, grown wary. He wanted his hands free to...to what? “You didn’t see a white van following the bus, did you?”
“No. It’s hard to see much besides the lights through the windows at night.” She studied the vehicles that rolled past them. Not a van of any kind in sight. The thrill she’d just admitted to herself at having Matt meet her at the bus stop to walk her home vanished. Had he seen something she had missed? “Why?”