A Different Kind of Man (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Cox, Suzanne

  “That’s good, because Kent’s life isn’t always as nice as yours or a lot of the other kids’.”

  The girl frowned. “I know. Some of the kids give him a hard time at school. He’s really nice, though, and I want to help him. I’m afraid for Kent.”

  Emalea’s stomach tightened. “He missed his appointment with me this week and I haven’t seen him. Do you think something’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. He missed the last three days of school, but he could just be sick. A lot of kids are home with a virus. His crummy cousins were at school yesterday, and I asked them if he was sick, but they just said it was none of my business where he was, that I would just mean trouble for him. I’d call and check on him but I don’t think they have a regular phone. I mean his dad has a cell phone, but I don’t think he lets them have a phone in the house.”

  “Yeah, he told me his dad keeps the only phone they have.” Emalea rubbed the back of her neck. “Let’s give it one more day. I’ll come by the school tomorrow afternoon to see if Kent showed up.”

  “I sure hope he’s not in trouble.”

  She squeezed the girl’s shoulder. “Me, too, Megan. Me, too.”

  JACKSON TOOK THE FOLDED white paper from his pocket, staring at the maze of directions he’d just followed. Still straddling his motorcycle, he watched the shadows growing among the low-hanging limbs of the trees. The place where he waited appeared to be a picnic area that had lost favor with the community. The tables were overturned and broken, with grass and weeds growing knee high. He heard a vehicle on the half mile of dirt road he’d just passed to get here. The cold steel of the Glock hanging in his shoulder harness chilled his fingers as he reached underneath the unbuttoned shirt he wore on top of his T-shirt.

  Meeting in the middle of the woods like this made him nervous, especially when he wasn’t sure if he could find his way back home. The last rays of daylight clung to the battered truck as it rolled to a stop beside him. The driver’s side window squeaked against the dried rubber that lined it as it wound down slowly.

  “Mick,” Jackson greeted the bearded man.

  “Sorry to have you come way out here, but it’s my hide I gotta watch out for. Yours, too, I guess.”

  “I appreciate your help. The tip about the girl with that boy from the bait shop sure paid off. We were able to make arrests. We’re hoping to get a bigger fish next time.”

  “Figured out that was me, did ya?” Jackson nodded and the man continued. “I don’t know how much this will help, but the militia is buying a load of guns from someone. It should take place real soon.”

  Jackson rubbed his goatee then ran his fingers across the stubble on the rest of his face and head. When had he shaved last? He wasn’t even sure. In the truck, Mick sat tapping his thumb on the steering wheel to the beat of a country song that played softly on the radio.

  “You didn’t hear all this in the bar, did you?”

  Mick grunted. “Nope.”

  “So where is all your information coming from?”

  “You might say I’ve got a source on the inside.”

  Jackson leaned toward the open window of the truck. “I’d like to talk to your source myself.”

  “No way in hell that’s gonna happen. I’d like to keep him alive.”

  Just when he thought this case was coming together, it got more complicated. He’d really like to get the details firsthand rather than passed through someone else. If he didn’t know where Mick was getting his information, how could he know if it was reliable? “You think his life’s at risk if he talks to us?”

  “I think his life’s at risk every day.”

  Jackson slapped the gas tank in exasperation. “All the more reason to let me talk to this person. We can protect him.”

  Mick leaned out the truck window, his arm swinging against the dusty door. “Cooper, this is my family we’re talkin’ about here. He’s only talkin’ to me because of that. I’ll take care of him. You just do your job.”

  The bartender paused and glanced toward the ground. Jackson thought he might even apologize for the outburst, the big man looked so embarrassed. Instead, Mick straightened behind the steering wheel and cranked the engine. “We better be goin’. I’ll call ya tomorrow. I don’t know where or when this meetin’ is gonna be, but I’ll let ya know.”

  Before Jackson could answer, the old truck lurched into gear, made a circle, then disappeared into the darkness that had fallen among the trees that lined the road. He’d have to follow up on whatever Mick gave him. What choice did he have? It was the first good lead they’d had since they’d arrested Michael. Unfortunately, everything Michael told them was useless unless they could catch DePaulo, and naturally, Michael hadn’t been able to give them a clue as to DePaulo’s whereabouts.

  When the last sounds of the truck had died away, he started his motorcycle, leaving the lights off until he was back on the highway. Along the way, the warm, empty night air hugged him and no other traffic passed. The small-town boredom he’d been expecting hadn’t materialized. When he’d first decided to move here it had been part prison sentence and part self-renewal. He hadn’t expected to feel so territorial, become so attached. But right now, he would do whatever was necessary to keep DePaulo’s toxic business away from Cypress Landing.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A PUFF OF POWDERED SUGAR rose in the air as Emalea dusted the hot pastries. Her aunt had called last night to ask if she could help in the diner this morning since one of her employees was out sick. Loading a tray with beignets and mugs of coffee, she hurried from behind the counter to place the breakfast on the table of the waiting customers. The door rattled as it swung open and three men she didn’t know entered. Behind them, Jackson followed, pointing to four empty bar stools at the counter.

  Hands shaking, she tightened her grip on the tray. If she acted like this every time she saw him, maybe he should leave town. At least her life would be less complicated. Her uncle took their order, stopping long enough to chat with Jackson.

  He met her eyes and his smile faded. She should have nodded, spoken, then moved on, but she couldn’t. She set the tray on the table, then hurried into the kitchen where she picked up another order and tried to pretend he wasn’t there.

  Half an hour later, the diner had nearly emptied except for Jackson and his friends.

  “Em, go refill the coffee for everyone at the counter.”

  She stared at her uncle as though he’d just told her to enter a burning building. The only people at the counter were Jackson and the strangers with him. He winked, thumbing her chin. “Go on now. You’ll be fine. You can’t skitter around here like a scared rabbit.”

  “What makes you think I’m scared?”

  “Come on now, girl. I know you and Jackson are having a problem.”

  Her eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

  He shrugged. “Men talk.”

  “Then you know how ridiculous he’s been.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I know. It’s what you two know about each other and yourselves that makes a difference.” He pushed a loose hair away from her forehead. “Now go give them the coffee.”

  Gripping the coffeepot, she went to the counter.

  “Emalea, how are you?” Jackson’s lips turned upward in a smile that she didn’t see reflected in his eyes. He introduced the three men, whose names she immediately forgot.

  “How’s Jade?”

  Turning back to Jackson, she shrugged. “She’s good.”

  “She hasn’t been terrorizing the vet’s office lately?”

  “Next week.”

  He glanced past her into the kitchen. “I’d like to speak to your aunt Alice, if you think she’s not too busy.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

  He went around the counter while she finished refilling the other men’s cups.

  “Are you what’s been keeping Jackson down here?”

  She frowned at the man whose name end
ed in ick, which was exactly what she was thinking of him at the moment. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I couldn’t understand why Jackson didn’t come to Chicago the first time our boss called to offer him a probationary period back in our unit, but I guess he was otherwise occupied. Thankfully, he’s coming around and will be going back with us when he’s done with this case.”

  She tried not to show her surprise. She wasn’t really, was she? Jackson leaving. She had suspected it would happen, but the reality hadn’t actually set in.

  “I thought he wasn’t welcome there,” she managed to say.

  “It was never like that. Sure, his temper was out of control. He even worked on me one time, but, hey, the man had a right. Rather than lose him completely they’ll let him have a second chance, see if he can keep his head after this bit of time off.”

  Obviously no one had bothered to tell this guy of Jackson’s most recent loss of control. Suddenly, she didn’t want to stay here another minute, didn’t want to talk to these men.

  “You all have a nice visit.” She turned and hurried into the kitchen.

  Jackson paused in mid conversation with Aunt Alice, who gestured vigorously at him with one finger. Emalea breathed a sigh of relief she wasn’t the one receiving her aunt’s lecture. The coffeepot banged against the counter followed by her apron.

  “I’ve got to go. I’m late, and I have to be at the prison this morning.” Someone called her name, but she pretended not to hear, hurrying through the door as fast as she could.

  The usually relaxing drive to the prison couldn’t settle her rattled nerves. Even the trees, overhanging the highway and dappling the roadway with shadows, didn’t afford their usual peacefulness. So, Jackson was running back to Chicago. She tried to convince herself life would be easier this way. But part of her really wanted him to stay, possibly giving him time to reconsider his decision. He’d said he loved her, but it must not be the same kind of love she felt, because no stupid mobsters would stop her from being with Jackson. She couldn’t imagine life without him.

  For a moment she couldn’t breathe and nearly pulled the car to the side of the road. She’d promised herself after her first husband never to get so committed, so involved with a man. Until now it hadn’t been a difficult promise to keep. Not once had she ever been tested, ever felt anything. But she’d finally found the right man and given him her heart. If Jackson felt the same, she’d do whatever he wanted, even brave the streets of Chicago. But he didn’t feel that way, did he? He hadn’t wanted her to go to Chicago. He’d found the very lame excuse that being with him could be dangerous. And that was the end of that.

  OCCASIONALLY THE PASSING of time could be interminable. The glare on the clock face from the fluorescent lights made the hands nearly impossible to see. He’d tried to quit staring at his own watch, but Jackson now found himself studying the plastic Earnhardt Jr. NASCAR clock, as though the driver himself might jump in the car and whisk the hands around.

  Mick had said he’d call. Already it was nearly noon and not a word from the bartender. A stack of folders waited patiently for Jackson’s attention. He just kept avoiding them. When he did open one, his mind strayed, making a simple form feel like a complex exam. They couldn’t even make a decent plan to bust the weapons sale and break the whole gun trade wide open until they knew where the meeting would take place. The idea of at last catching DePaulo nearly had him salivating.

  The paper in front of him only needed his signature and with a sigh he scratched the pen on the thin black line. Would putting DePaulo behind bars make life safe for him, for those around him? He prayed it could happen. Emalea’s aunt Alice had given him a real going-over this morning. She’d wanted to know why he wasn’t with Emalea, didn’t he care for her? He wished he could have told the woman that he didn’t have feelings for her niece, but the lie just wouldn’t materialize. The older woman brushed away his fears as though they were nothing but a little flour on her countertop.

  “Do you wish you’d never met your first wife, never had your daughter?” she’d asked.

  “Hell, no! I wouldn’t take anything for the time we did have together. But it was my fault they were killed, and I can’t put Emalea at risk like that.”

  She hadn’t responded immediately, only twisted her mouth in an expression that told him how little sense she thought he was making.

  “I think that motorcycle ridin’ and scuba divin’ silliness could kill the child one day. You don’t see me lockin’ her in a closet, do you now? We better be livin’ this life we got. ’Cause death, it’s gonna come lookin’ for us soon enough and when it does, no amount of protectin’ on earth can be stoppin’ it.”

  The woman had gone back to preparing food while he’d returned to his friends from Chicago. At that very moment he’d been caught between two lives, one he’d left behind, the other he’d barely tasted.

  As he’d wrestled with the thought, Matt Wright had entered the diner. All those who lived in Cypress Landing had called a greeting of some sort. They knew their sheriff by his first name and weren’t afraid to use it. The man had barely hit his seat before Emalea’s aunt had dropped a plateful of beignets in front of him followed by a cup of hot coffee and a hug.

  He’d known then, without hesitation, without doubt, the life he’d left behind was just that, behind him. From now on he only wanted to have breakfast in that run-down little store on the edge of town while he got his day’s worth of investigative information. Already, Janie knew how he liked his coffee and what he generally wanted for breakfast. It seemed that he’d made a monumental decision sitting on the bar stool of the diner. Then again, why would he have made it anywhere else? This was home. After that, he’d led the other men back to the car for the short trip to the sheriff’s office, all the while trying to control the smile that threatened. It was another one of those things that just felt right.

  Now, sitting in his office, he tried to imagine how he would see Emalea every day and not have her in his life. Maybe her aunt was right. Maybe sharing his life with her would be worth the danger. This time he could do better. Then he thought of Emalea’s words. She had been right, of course. He’d said he wanted to keep her from danger and in doing so he could keep himself from getting too close, caring too much. But he already cared about her. Rolling back from his desk, he punched the number for Emalea’s office. After several rings, the machine came on, so he hung up, not bothering to leave a message. He wouldn’t have known what to say. He just wanted to talk to her, see if he had completely ruined everything.

  “Heard from your guy yet?”

  Realizing he was still holding the phone, Jackson dropped it back on its base, glancing at Rick.

  “No, not yet. I was just trying to make a call.”

  “I hope we hear from him early enough to get organized. If the call comes in and we’ve got twenty minutes to get there we might be in a bit of trouble.” Instead of leaving, Rick leaned against the door frame. “How long do you think it’ll take you to clear things away after this case is done and haul yourself back to Chicago?”

  Jackson didn’t answer immediately, unsure that he could make Rick understand.

  Rick watched him for a minute then snorted. “You’re not coming back, are you?”

  “No, I’m not. I don’t want what’s back there, not anymore.” There, he’d said it out loud and he was more certain than ever this was the life he wanted.

  “I guess you’re going to try and tell me your decision has nothing to do with that chick you were mooning over this morning at breakfast.”

  “That chick has a Ph.D. in psychology.”

  Rick rolled his eyes. “So, she’s a smart chick.”

  He didn’t bother to try and tell his friend he might have blown any chance he’d had at a relationship with Emalea. Maybe if he didn’t say the words, it wouldn’t be true. Besides, even without Emalea, he knew he belonged in Cypress Landing.

  “As hard as it may be for you to believe, I
really like Cypress Landing. There’s just a different feeling to life here, like it really matters. I have to say, gathering information during breakfast with a bunch of old guys sure beats harassing a low-life snitch in a dark alley, wondering if you’re gonna get a bullet in the back.”

  “You make it sound—” Rick stopped short as Jackson’s phone shrilled.

  Mick, his voice muted on the other end, gave the information they’d been waiting for, then ended the call. Dropping the pen he’d been taking notes with, Jackson scratched at the hair on his chin. “We’re on for six this evening.”

  “Where at?”

  Jackson shook his head. “A few miles from here, at the house belonging to the owner of the bait shop. I knew he was in on this. We just haven’t been able to get a thing on him.”

  “Looks like that was for the best—if you had him locked up this meeting wouldn’t be happening.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Jackson gripped the armrests. “I guess so. I’ve just got a really bad feeling about this.”

  What was it that bothered him? Was it the man who owned the bait store or something else? For an instant, the image of Emalea standing with a teenage boy across the road from the bait shop lodged in his brain. What had she been doing there and who was the boy? He’d never bothered to ask, not with so many other things going on between them. Had she gotten involved in this in a way that had nothing to do with him?

  Noticing Rick still standing there, he gathered his folders. “Let’s go to the conference room. We’ve got work to do if we’re going to pull this off.”

  The other man followed him, and Jackson put Emalea from his mind as best he could. He wasn’t sure what it would take to make her accept him after what he’d said and done. First of all, he had to face the fact that he wanted to be with her even if he couldn’t protect her all the time. What would she say to that? At least then it would be her decision, which was what she had wanted in the first place. If things didn’t work out, he could always take up dominoes.