Dangerous Nights: Tall Dark Defender / Undercover Wife

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.