Unafraid

by Allie Harrison

  He pulled out his cell and punched in the number he remembered was printed on the side of the lunch truck and pressed TALK.

  The phone rang three times before being answered.

  It was answered by a man who said, “Meals on Four Wheels. How can I help you? We cater to your every need.”

  Having his needs catered to sounded like a perfect plan to him. “I’m calling about a lunch truck that was parked near the police station in Lake Forrest this morning,” Brubaker said.

  “Hold please while I look and see who had that route today.”

  There was a pause. Brubaker started the SUV and turned on the air while he waited.

  “That would be Della. Is there a problem? Do you have complaint?”

  Brubaker cleared his throat. “Not at all. I was wondering if there was some way I could reach Della. She’s very nice and exceptionally pretty. I’d like to meet her.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to inform you she’s a married woman and this is her husband. We run this business together, having four trucks. I do appreciate that you found her attractive, but I’m very possessive and I can’t share her with you.”

  Brubaker felt his gut drop to the floorboard. Oh, shit. He had been so caught up with Smith and the street guy, he hadn’t noticed if Della had a wedding ring on or not. He didn’t make these kinds of mistakes. “Oh, I-I’m really sorry. I didn’t see a ring or anything. Please understand I don’t generally make plays on married women.”

  “Of course, thank you for calling.”

  At least the guy was polite about it. The line went dead. In his frustration, Brubaker tossed his phone onto the seat next to him. What was he going to do now? He doubted there were any whores for hire in this out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere, boring little town. After all, this wasn’t Vegas.

  His phone buzzed, and for a few heart-stopping seconds, he thought it might be Della’s husband calling him back. He didn’t need things like that tarnishing his reputation. True, he was into unconventional things, but he always kept his private life very private.

  The number that came up on caller ID was not the lunch truck number he’d just called.

  But he wanted to take this call even less than he would if it had been Della’s husband.

  Chapter Twenty

  In John’s hidden-room command center, Dell slammed the phone down and took a heavy breath.

  Beside him, Louis burst out, howling with laughter. “Brubaker likes you, Della. Aw, isn’t that just the sweetest thing? You two would make the cutest couple. I’ll bet it was your red nail polish and your eyes that turned him on.”

  “Shut. Up.” Dell raked his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know which was harder—keeping his composure and pretending to be Della’s polite husband, or not taking out Shackleford when he hit Virgil. The wound in his healing gut ached. He’d obviously been on his feet too long today.

  Louis ignored him. “He must be into full-figured women! Just think—you and Brubaker could have double dated with the commander and his little barista.”

  Dell looked at him. “Do you want to keep the teeth in your mouth?”

  Louis howled louder.

  Dell got up and headed for the stairs. John met him at the top. “You heard that?”

  “Yeah, I heard it. You handled that perfectly.”

  “You taught me well.”

  From the bunker below came Louis’s voice, “Holy shit!”

  Dell didn’t like the sound of that. Louis seldom let go of his easy demeanor. “What is it?”

  “Smith just finished telling Shackleford he’ll take them to another body. Tomorrow. Shackleford didn’t waste any time calling Director Cohen. He’s placing a call to Brubaker as we speak.”

  “Cohen will keep this rolling as long as Smith does, we all know that, John.” Dell wasn’t aware until that moment that he pressed his hand to his injured stomach where Smith’s knife had sliced into him. He quickly moved it away. He wasn’t certain if John noticed it. “They may not wear the same clothes tomorrow. The bugs may not be where we need them. And we probably shouldn’t send Della back with the lunch truck again tomorrow. I doubt Brubaker would let me adjust his collar again since he just got shot down finding out the girl of his wet dreams is a married woman.”

  “Wait until he finds out you’re a man. I want to be there to see the look on his face when that happens.” Louis called up from the bottom of the steps.

  John glanced down at Louis before meeting his gaze. “I know. I agree. We may have to simply follow them tomorrow, see if we can pick anything up with the long-range mics. I don’t need to tell you Brubaker could be just as dangerous as Smith. We have to tread very carefully with him.”

  “You don’t have to tell me.” Dell touched his belly again, not liking that he instinctively guarded his healing wound.

  “Are you doing all right?” John asked.

  “Yes, just tired. I was on my feet more today than I have been since Smith stuck me with his knife.”

  John nodded. “Go home and get some rest. Take tomorrow off, too. Orrey and Monty can take up the slack. I’ll be in touch if there’s anything new.”

  “I’m fine. You don’t have to—”

  “It’s an order.”

  Dell sighed loudly. “Okay, thanks. Have fun on your date. You deserve it.”

  John nodded again.

  Dell was certain he was going to let it go at that, but then John grinned again. “Of course, you’re welcome to bring Brubaker and double with me and Abigail. I wouldn’t be so nervous if there was another couple with us.”

  With a grunt, Dell showed himself out.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  John’s fingers fumbled. As time ticked closer to six, his coordination and concentration diminished.

  “You’re wearing a tie?” Charlie asked, coming up behind him.

  “Well, I considered it, but haven’t been able to actually tie it.” John looped the material over and around then up through before he snugged it around his neck only to find again it was uneven.

  Charlie watched him in the mirror. “Lose the tie, Dad.”

  “I want to make a good first impression.”

  “What you’re going to make is a good I’m-a-nerd-and-from-the-old-school impression with lots of emphasis on the word old, which you aren’t. Obviously, you already made a good first impression or she wouldn’t have said yes. I think for this first date, you should keep it casual. If you show up in a tie and she’s not wearing a dress, she’ll feel underdressed.”

  John met his gaze in the mirror. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of it.”

  “Yeah, what you want to do is dress comfortable but nice, so whatever she wears, she’ll be comfortable, too.”

  For the first time, what John saw in the mirror was an old, out of date, out of touch man. For a moment, he didn’t recognize himself. “Maybe I should call the coffee shop and tell her something has come up.”

  “Oh, no. You are not backing out. A few weeks ago, I learned you are one hard-ass agent. I’ve never seen you afraid of anything in my life. You’re not turning chicken over a woman now.”

  John didn’t confess that he’d been terrified countless times in his career. He also didn’t admit that his biggest fear had been when the doctor placed a crying, newborn Charlie in his arms and his second biggest terrifying moment had been when he thought Smith would try and take everyone in his kitchen out. But this—this stepping out into the dating life again—this wasn’t exactly fear or terror. It was more like he was being waterboarded with the anxiety of it. “I’m just not used to this.”

  “I hate to tell you, Dad, but it really doesn’t get any easier, either.”

  “You sound like an experienced sailor.” He slid the tie off and hung it back over the rack in the closet. Charlie had not remarked over the disappearance of the hospital bed, nor had he said anything about the wedding ring that rested on his mother’s dresser. He had to know John was still sleeping downstairs in his comfortable chair, just a
s he had to speculate that John now hardly entered this room except to get dressed in the huge closet he used to share with Susan.

  “My only experience is not knowing what to expect with Erica. Every time I feel like I know where I stand with her, she moves to a new position.”

  “Oh, that was my entire married life with your mom.” He kept amusement in his voice as he said the words and found it was actually easy to talk about. Although he thought it was ironic to talk about Susan while he was getting dressed to date a new woman. “But I think all women are a mystery.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Wear the red shirt.”

  “Red?”

  “I think she’ll think it looks great on you.”

  “Where do you think I should take her? After all, she owns and works a coffee shop, so I doubt she’d want to sit in one and get to know each other.”

  Charlie chuckled. “You’d be surprised. Erica’s family owns two Italian restaurants and the first time we officially went out on a date, she wanted pizza. Besides, it goes back again to whatever makes her comfortable. If she’s at ease in a coffee shop, sit in one with her. Just don’t make a movie your first date where you’re sitting in the dark, not even looking at each other. There’s no way to get to know her if you do that.”

  John smiled, proud of the son he had. “Thanks for the advice.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  At five thirty, Abigail flipped the closed sign of the coffee shop. Her last customer had left fifteen minutes ago. Although she didn’t expect anyone else in the next half hour, she put up an apology sign next to the closed sign before she headed up the stairs to her loft while she worked to calm her heart. Ellie had been no help all day, wouldn’t give a single clue as to what that group of men did or were doing. She was quiet about her guy, Gil. Every time Abby got the chance to even ask a question, Ellie either pretended to be busy or she replied with a comment about her little boy, Raylan.

  All of it just made the butterflies in Abby’s gut beat their wings faster.

  She spent the next twenty minutes trying on clothes and trying not to be frustrated. She hadn’t been out anywhere in what felt like months. She couldn’t remember the last time she went on something she considered a date.

  She finally settled on jeans and a red sweater. The sweater was new, she’d never worn it before and was now glad she’d held it off. The soft cotton whispered over her skin with softness and hugged her curves in what she thought was all the right places, giving a casual, if not dramatic effect. Red was not a usual color for her. It looked great on her—or so she’d been told—but the last thing she’d wanted for some time now was to draw attention to herself, so she hadn’t worn it.

  But for this man, who seemed to notice everything, she wanted to draw attention to herself. She wanted him to see her.

  At exactly five minutes after six o’clock, as she was coming down from the loft, she heard a knock on the door to the coffee shop. She hadn’t even thought to tell him about the door at the top of the back stairs that also entered her loft. She opened the door and wondered if he even had a clue as to how good looking he was. His five o’clock shadow was the same as it had been earlier, but didn’t in any way give him a sloppy or unkept look. The red shirt he wore gave him a clean-cowboy, rugged look. But she doubted he was anything close to being a cowboy. His promptness confirmed he had at some time been military. Perhaps he still was. She stared at his red shirt for a few seconds too long.

  “Looks like I got the memo on what to wear,” he said. His grin was contagious.

  She laughed.

  It was a good sign that he was a man who could make her laugh. God, it felt good.

  “Are you hungry for anything special?”

  His voice was deep, alluring, and still commanding as it had been earlier that day when he spoke with his colleagues. There was no doubt he was in charge, and used to being in charge. Everything about him, his stance, his manner, his confidence, the look in his eyes, told her he was a true leader. And just then, he was handing her the reigns. Unfortunately, the truth of the matter was she’d been so worked up about actually having a date, about wondering what he was and what he did, she had given no thought as to where she wanted to go. “No, I…”

  He shrugged as if it was nothing. “I have the perfect place in mind if you’d like to take a ride with me. It isn’t far.”

  “Okay.” Her heart felt beyond pounding in her chest. She calmed with a deep breath and mentally told herself she could do this. This was just a normal thing. She could be alone with him. She could go where he chose to take her. She could.

  And she would.

  He stepped back so she could move out and lock the door behind her.

  She finished with the lock and met his gaze. And felt safe.

  She fell into step with him and discovered he drove a dark blue pickup truck. Maybe he was a military cowboy after all. He was certainly a gentleman. He opened the door for her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Brubaker couldn’t reach the shower fast enough after he unlocked his small hotel room and locked the door behind him. Within moments, his clothes were tossed on the bathroom sink. He knew it wasn’t good for his suit, but right then he didn’t give a damn. He doubted this little hole-in-the-wall place offered dry cleaning, so he was going to have to find some place and drop it off on his own.

  He stood under the cool shower, eyes and mouth closed, and let the water spray him full in the face before it cascaded down him to the drain. Still, he thought he couldn’t get the smell of his own sweat and that mixed with Smith’s and the mineral smell of the quarry out of his nose. After Director Cohen’s last phone call, he found he was going to need a rough fuck more than he was going to need his next meal. Unfortunately, that was not going to be had in this little town. Smith must have been singing to Shackleford before he reached his cell in order for word to get to Cohen that Smith wanted to give up another body. Tomorrow.

  The problem was, despite the size of this case or its potential for promotion, Brubaker didn’t think he could handle a second day in a row of being close to Smith, either in the car or at a crime scene site, or out in the unusually warm fall sunshine. But Cohen didn’t speak the language of opportunity or choice. When he said, “Take Smith to a town called Gatesville tomorrow morning. He wants to give up another body,” there was no negotiation.

  Brubaker hadn’t even looked to see where Gatesville was on a map. He simply wasn’t ready to think about tomorrow. He was still reeling over needing that pretty lunch truck woman, Della, then getting shot down to find out about—and even talk to—her husband. He turned slightly, just enough to take a deep breath and not suck in any water. Keeping his eyes closed, he reached down with both hands.

  He couldn’t have Della. He didn’t know where to look to find any other woman.

  He did, however, have his own fantasies.

  No sense in wasting them.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “You brought me to the orchard?”

  John put the truck in park and killed the engine before answering. “On the weekends this time of year, this place has a great apple festival. During the week is just as nice, there just aren’t as many people. The restaurant’s open, but if you don’t want to have the sit-down dinner, we could just get a Chicago-style hot dog from the cart that’s over on that end. There’s also frozen apple cider or cocoa, or even coffee. And if you don’t want any kind of meal at all, but want to indulge on junk food, I happen to know we can get an array of cheese fries or big pretzels or caramel apples and frozen custard and funnel cakes. We can wash it all down with some apple cider or frozen lemonade.”

  “Sounds nutritious.” She climbed out of the truck before he could stop her or open her door for her.

  He followed suit and came around the front of the truck to her. “I thought it sounded like fun.”

  She met his gaze, looking relaxed. “Yes, it does.”

  “We could even ride in a wagon and pick some a
pples or grab a pumpkin. I know it’s a bit early for pumpkins, but I see other people getting them. So why not?”

  She smiled at him and discovered for the first time in a long, it was easy to smile up at a man, at one who wasn’t a customer she had to wait on. “I think a bowl of apples and a pumpkin or two would look great on my counter in the coffee shop. I should have decorated for fall before now, anyway.”

  My God, she discovered her hand was tucked into his. When had that happened? She didn’t remember moving. And yet, it felt so…

  Safe.

  Natural.

  And she liked the feel of it. While she’d been on a few dates—about as many as she could count with her fingers—she’d always held back. She certainly hadn’t touched anyone. But this was different.

  “We could start with a hot dog,” she suggested.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “So, are you military?”

  He met her gaze as they made their way past hay bales and wagon-loading areas. “I used to be. I fought in the Gulf for a few tours. Navy. SEALs.”

  She wasn’t surprised.

  “How long have you had your coffee shop?” he asked.

  His fingers were now laced through hers. She recognized the game they played. Like Twenty Questions as they got to know one another. It was easy and helpful. The best was it wasn’t at all frightening. Being at the apple orchard, outside, surrounded by people, the drooping sun, and smelling fall and nature helped, too. “Four years.” She paused. “What do you do now?”

  “Can we skip that question for a while?”

  “How long?”

  He glanced at his watch. “Oh, perhaps an hour or so. I’d prefer we get to know one another better first.”

  “Okay.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but she liked that he was forthright with her. There was no beating around the bush. There was no saying one thing and meaning another. She knew with this man, he might choose to wait to tell her something, but she had the feeling she’d never have to try and read his mind. If he wasn’t ready to talk about his career path, she’d take the conversation down a different path and see how he reacted. “Charlie’s your son.”