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Now he had Hardin’s attention. The man’s eyes widened, and his face leeched of color.
“She can file a wrongful termination lawsuit whether she has grounds or not, and the delivery you asked her to make is sure to be called into question. You got an explanation ready for the judge about that two hundred grand?”
Tensing, Hardin glared darkly at Jonah, then cast his glower toward Annie.
Jonah held his breath, second-guessing his rash challenge. Tossing down the gauntlet with Hardin might not have been his wisest move if he wanted to keep a low profile as he worked his investigation.
But Hardin, in his rage, had spilled the tidbit about the huge sum that had been in the package. Hardin knew Jonah had been at the diner last night when Annie left to deliver the envelope. And Jonah couldn’t help but wonder if his intervention now hadn’t provoked Hardin to fire Annie.
Guilt pinched Jonah. He couldn’t let her lose her job because of his temper.
“Fine,” Hardin snarled, spittle spraying Annie’s direction. “Consider yourself on notice. You screw up again, and you’re gone.”
With another scalding glance to Jonah, Hardin stomped into his office and slammed the door.
Annie pressed a hand to her chest and slid to the floor, shaking.
Pulling in a deep breath for composure before he approached her, Jonah studied Annie’s trembling body and wan expression. He’d seen reactions like hers too many times in both his personal and professional life not to know what he was dealing with. If her fearful reaction to Hardin weren’t enough, her scars and her distrust of him last night bolstered his assessment.
She’d likely been abused. Husband, father, sibling—didn’t matter who. The devastating legacy of violence and mental cruelty didn’t differentiate.
Acid roiled in his gut, and he took another couple of seconds to cool off before squatting in front of her.
“Annie—”
“You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” she murmured. Raising her eyes to meet his, she shook her head. “He’s my problem, and I have to learn to deal with him.”
He frowned. “Annie, he had no right—”
“That doesn’t matter! Right and wrong isn’t the point.” Annie hiked her chin up a notch and firmed her jaw in a display of moxie that sparked hope in him.
He held his tongue, giving her the chance to speak her mind. Her body language as she gathered herself and recovered from Hardin’s intimidation spoke volumes to him. She was strong. A fighter. She had the mettle to overcome her past. Warmth swirled through his blood as he held her rich-coffee gaze.
Annie swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. “This was my problem, not yours. I have to learn how to handle these situations for myself, if I’m going to—” She tore her eyes away and shook her head again. “Never mind.”
When she pushed up from the floor, Jonah put a hand under her arm to help her to her feet. She shrugged out of his grip. “I’m all right. I don’t need—”
“Okay.” He held his hands up and backed away one step.
Stroking her hands down her uniform apron, she angled a dubious look toward him. “Why have you decided to be my protector? You barely know me.”
He shrugged. “How well do you have to know someone to want to help them?”
She ducked her head and didn’t answer.
Jamming his hands into his pockets, he cocked his head and studied her bruised cheek and swollen lip, evidence of last night’s attack. Even with the injuries marring her ivory skin, her beauty shone through. Annie was a curious blend of childlike fragility and womanly allure. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose that lent to her young, waifish appearance, while her bowed lips and thick-lashed brown eyes contributed to the seductive movie-star quality her hairstyle evoked.
He cracked his knuckles, working off the remnants of adrenaline following his confrontation with Hardin. “Look, are you all right?”
A pointed, dark brown gaze snapped up to his, half hidden by the curtain of hair she kept over her left cheek. “I’m fine. I appreciate your help, but—”
“But nothing. Forget it.” He waved a hand in dismissal and pivoted on his heel. He’d made it as far as the swinging door before he reconsidered. “No, don’t forget it.” He marched back to Annie and drilled her with a hard gaze. “You want to learn to take care of yourself? To handle men like Hardin and that guy in the alley last night?”
Annie blinked her surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“You said you had to learn how to handle situations like this, guys like Hardin.” He flicked a thumb toward the spot where Hardin had stood earlier. “Did you mean it?”
A deer-in-the-headlights look froze her face.
“I can teach you to handle yourself when a man attacks you. I can show you how to defend yourself, protect yourself.”
She eyed him skeptically for several silent moments. “What about my children?”
“Kids?” Jonah fumbled, caught off guard by her question. “I…I guess I could teach them, too.”
“No, they’re too young. I mean, can you teach me to protect them from men like…” She paused, bit her lip, then lowered her voice. “Men like Hardin?”
Jonah held her gaze, moved by the depth of fear, the passion and motherly concern he saw reflected in her dark eyes. A degree of desperation shadowed her expression and tugged at dusty memories deep inside him.
“I can…if you’re willing to trust me.”
His answer seemed to douse her interest with a cold slap of reality. She frowned and jerked her gaze away with a sigh. Trust was clearly in short supply for Annie. Not surprising.
Jonah twisted his mouth to the side as he thought. “May I have your order pad and pen?”
With a puzzled look, she took the items from the front pocket of her apron and extended them to him.
“What time do you get off work tonight?” He scribbled an address on the pad and clicked the pen closed.
Again she hesitated before answering, her gaze narrowed on him as if she could detect his motives, any ill-intent or hidden agenda if she studied him close enough. “Eight. Why?”
“That’s my gym.” He tapped the front of the pad. “I’ll meet you there at eight thirty and give you a few pointers on self-defense, if you want. There are plenty of things a woman can do to protect herself, even from a man twice her size. I’ll show you a couple of the most effective ones tonight.”
He handed her back the pen and pad, and she perused the note he’d made. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth again and wound a strand of hair around her finger. “I don’t know. I…I’d have to call my babysitter and make sure she could stay late. And I hate to miss the kids’ bedtime. I see so little of them as it is.” Her shoulders slumped a bit, and he heard working-mother guilt rife in her tone.
Seizing the opportunity to learn more about her and make her feel more at ease with him, Jonah grinned. “How old are they?”
Her head snapped up. “What?”
“Your kids. How old are they?”
Her expression softened, and warmth flooded her eyes. “Haley is five and a half, and my baby, Ben, is almost two.”
Her obvious affection for her children needled a vulnerable place in Jonah, an emptiness he hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on. The idea of having his own family stirred a complicated mix of emotions in him. He longed for the domestic ideal of home and hearth, but his memories of family left him in a cold sweat. Norman Rockwell dreams of a picket fence and two-point-five kids were a fantasy for him. Out of reach. Too risky.
His broken family, his only experience with home life, was a recipe for disaster.
Clearing his throat and shoving aside his own bitter memories, he flashed her another smile. “A boy and a girl. That’s great. You have a matched set.”
A corner of her mouth quirked up. “Hardly matched. They’re as opposite as can be.”
Jonah chuckled. “Funny how that happens, huh?”
Her mouth curved a bit more, forming the first hint of a grin he’d seen on her lips in weeks. “Yeah. Funny.”
“I’d love to meet them someday.”
Her smile vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by the damnable wariness again. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I like you. And I like kids. Stands to reason I’d like your kids.”
Her brow lowered. “Mr. Devereaux, I’m not interested in—”
“No, you’re right.” He raised a hand to cut her off. “Too fast. I didn’t mean to be pushy.” He nodded toward the order pad still in her hand. “But please consider coming tonight. For your safety’s sake.” As he backed toward the door, he threw in a parting shot he knew was pure manipulation. But he didn’t care. “Do it for your kids if not yourself.”
Annie needed to learn to protect herself, to stand up to bullies like Hardin, to revive the spark her abuser had extinguished. Jonah wasn’t above a little manipulation if it motivated her to make changes in her life.
The truth was, Annie had been the delivery person when a two-hundred-thousand-dollar transfer of funds was stolen. Had the thief intended to kill her to keep her quiet, stop her from identifying him? Would the party who’d expected the cash seek retribution? Could Hardin become more desperate and, therefore, more dangerous?
No matter how he looked at this turn of events, Jonah didn’t like the crosshairs Annie had found herself in after last night. She needed more than just a few self-defense techniques if someone tried to keep her from talking. But his lessons would be a start.
Meanwhile, he’d be extra vigilant. Annie needed someone with his experience and training to watch her back.
Annie surveyed the last few diners who’d come in for a late meal, then faced Lydia, who was working the last shift. “Can you handle things if I go now?”
“Sure thing, honey. I got it covered.” The older waitress smiled and jerked her head toward the door. “Get on home to those babies and give ’em a kiss for me, too.”
“Thanks, Lydia.” Annie untied her apron and stashed it under the counter. Grabbing her purse, she headed back to the kitchen, walking with careful penguinlike steps to avoid slipping on the greasy film that had accumulated on the floor through the day. As she neared Mr. Hardin’s office, she heard his raised voice, and her heart beat a little harder.
“That’s not enough time! I said I’d get it to you!” he ranted.
As Annie tiptoed past his half-open door to clock out, she caught her reflection on the stainless-steel side of the industrial freezer. The image rubbed a raw nerve.
How many times had she cowered around Walt, tiptoeing through their house in order not to wake him, or quietly keeping a discreet distance to avoid triggering one of his tantrums?
She’d thought her days of treading lightly around hostile men were past, yet here she was skulking past Hardin’s office like a guilty child. Frustration and self-censure stabbed Annie.
She’d come too far and paid too high of a price to be free of Walt to fall back into old habits now. Habits born from fear.
Damn it, she didn’t want to live in fear anymore! Annie jammed her time card in the clock so hard it crumpled in the middle. Spinning on her heel to leave, she marched back by Hardin’s office, her chin up and her back straight.
“Annie!”
She froze, dread slowing her pulse and snagging her breath.
Please, Lord, not another errand like last night.
Heart thumping, she turned toward Hardin’s office and stepped to the door. “Yes?”
“Where do you think you’re goin’?” he asked around a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. His eyes mirrored the same dark resentment she heard in his tone.
“My shift is over. I was going home.”
“Not if I say you don’t.”
A rock lodged in Annie’s stomach. She dragged in a smoke-laced lungful of air, trying to steel her nerves and battle down the building panic.
And anger—the most dangerous of emotions.
Dealing with the repercussions of Walt’s rage had been enough to teach her just how dangerous. But her own temper had led her to say foolish things at times that had only inflamed Walt’s wrath. Fury over Walt’s unfairness and controlling nature had seethed in her gut like a corrosive waste until she would throw up, so she’d long ago learned to suppress her temper, swallow the bile and deny the heat of anger that flashed through her blood.
Yet despite her best efforts to erase her ill-will and moments of irritation, she still carried a boatload of frustration and ire for the desperate circumstances of her life. She blamed Walt’s abuse and her submission to his violence for the dark cloud his threats still cast over her. Now Hardin was doing his best to intimidate and control her, and she struggled to keep the poisonous emotion at bay.
“My shift is over, Mr. Hardin. I need to get home to my children.” Her voice quivered with anxiety and barely suppressed indignation. She curled her fingers into her palms, and the pulse of rising adrenaline throbbed in her temples.
Her boss narrowed his eyes and stabbed out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray on his desk. “Seems to me there’s a matter of two hundred thousand dollars you either have to pay back or work off.”
The flutter of fear taunted her, beating hard against her breastbone.
“Mr. H-Hardin, I could never work enough hours to repay—”
“Well, if you ain’t going to work the extra hours, then maybe you could settle your debt with me…another way.” Surging to his feet, he raked a lascivious gaze over her and smirked.
Annie fell back a step. Disgust slithered over her, and she shivered. Taking a slow breath, she searched for enough confidence to reply without her voice quaking. “No.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, and his gaze continued to roam over her.
“I’ll find a way to repay the money,” she said, though the words were sour knots in her throat that she had to force out. “It will take me a while—” Like forever. She cringed at the thought of tightening her budget even further and scraping together small payments for Hardin. “But I’ll find a way.”
A muscle twitched in Hardin’s jaw, and his flinty eyes drilled into her. “I want the money by next week.”
The ice in his tone, his stare sent a deep chill slicing through her. Trembling to her marrow, Annie whirled away and hurried toward the dining room. Her feet slipped and skidded on the greasy kitchen tile, but she didn’t slow down. She had to get away from Hardin. Get out of the diner. Get home to her children—the only place she felt even remotely safe anymore.
“I can show you how to defend yourself, protect yourself.”
As she rushed out of the diner, Jonah’s promise filtered through her head. Her steps slowed, and she reached into her pocket for the scrap of paper he’d given her with his gym’s address.
If only—
Forget if only. Dreams and wishes were for other people. She had to deal in reality. In truths and concrete facts.
Her truth was she had to pay her hostile boss a hell of a lot of money.
Picking up her pace again, she jogged to the bus stop, still quaking from Hardin’s chilling threat. No way could she find two hundred thousand dollars to repay him, even if she had a year to pay him. Much less a week.
Her bus rumbled up to the stop just as she reached the street corner. While she waited for an older man with a walker to board, she fished in her pocket for her bus pass.
Once more her fingers brushed the crumpled paper Jonah had given her.
