Dangerous Nights: Tall Dark Defender / Undercover Wife

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.