He stared at his empty mug. “I’m good. Probably heading home.”
“All right.” She patted his hand and slid toward the end of the booth. “Listen… whatever else is hurt, you’d better take proper care of it. Promise you will.”
He nodded. “Promise.”
“Good. See you next time.”
He watched her walk away as he absently searched his pockets for his wallet, and found himself thinking again about quitting the racket. He didn’t need the money anymore, and both of his brothers and his sister had someone special in their lives—so they didn’t need him, either. A little normalcy might be nice. Keep working at his brother’s construction company, where he got to build things instead of destroy them, and then maybe come home to a woman like Piper. As if she’d have him.
But it was too late for normal. After eight years of working for Eddie Verona, he had nothing left to give another person. He wasn’t even sure he could feel anything beyond a vague sense of responsibility. He’d spent so long suppressing his emotions, they’d practically withered away.
Besides, Eddie would never let him go. He’d made it clear that the promise of walking away all those years ago came with a few strings—he could walk as far as the graveyard. The only retirement plan Eddie offered was a bullet.
Jonah left cash for his order and a generous tip on the table, then walked out of the diner alone. Like always.
Chapter 2
The distant pops of gunfire were as sobering as a strong cup of coffee. They helped wake her up, since she hadn’t been to bed yet.
Piper slotted her car beside a powder blue pickup in the parking lot of the White Oak Gun Range and did a quick check in the mirror. She didn’t exactly disguise herself when she came here, but she made an effort to be less recognizable. Zero makeup, hair tucked under a baseball cap, plain T-shirt, jeans and boots. It kept people’s tongues from wagging…or hanging out of their mouths.
She’s never imagined herself a gun owner. But there was at least one person she felt compelled to protect herself from.
Patrick Stiles was still in town. Still running his dry cleaning business on Main Street, just like he hadn’t helped Celeste disappear eight years ago with nothing but a suitcase and a broken leg to her name. Piper had looked into him as far as she could, trying to figure out what connection he had to her aunt and why he seemed so shady. The only things she’d learned were that he wasn’t from around here, and he hadn’t been born Patrick Stiles.
But she intended to keep digging. Nothing would keep her from the truth.
As she approached the main building, movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned and spotted a figure standing beside the storage shed, just past the gallery. Casual dress, cap and sunglasses, hands in his pockets. Watching her. She thought she’d seen him here before, always in the distance.
This time he was closer. And he looked a lot like Patrick.
Chills settled along her spine. If it was him, and he’d been here more than once at the same time as her, she refused to believe it was a coincidence. She had to know. With determination in her stride, she changed direction and headed for the shed.
The figure straightened quickly and ducked behind the small building.
“Hey,” she called, picking up her pace. “Patrick? Wait a minute—I just want to talk.”
She heard nothing. And when she reached the back of the shed, saw no one.
“Patrick?” She stood still and scanned the area. From here she could see the outdoor range, the roofed picnic table area, and the handful of people occupying them. No man with cap and sunglasses. But she wasn’t hallucinating, and he couldn’t have just disappeared.
The buzz of her phone startled her. She pulled it out, for one crazy instant expecting Patrick’s name on the screen even though he didn’t have her number. There was a name, and not one she recognized. The caller ID said KING, MALORY LLP.
She didn’t usually take calls from strangers, but intuition compelled her to answer. “Hello?”
“Piper Starr?” A female voice, detached and professional.
“Yes,” she said. “Who is this?”
“Malory King. I’m an attorney,” the woman said. “I’m calling on behalf of Celeste Daniels.”
Hearing her long-gone aunt’s name from some lawyer she’d never met made her skin crawl. This could not be a good thing, whatever it was. “Why?” she managed.
“Can you confirm your relationship to Ms. Daniels?”
“She’s my aunt,” Piper said. “What is this about?”
“I’ll need to speak with you in person. I’m arriving in—” There was a pause, a shuffling of papers. “—Covendale tomorrow, and I’ve arranged to work with local counsel. Mr. Bernard Emerson, of Emerson and Rutledge. Does ten a.m. work for you?”
“What is this about?” Piper repeated through clenched teeth.
“I’m sorry, but this is a confidential matter,” the lawyer said briskly. “It has to be handled in person.”
She let out a frustrated breath. “Do lawyers enjoy this? Dropping a bomb on people, and then making them wait for details?”
“No, we don’t. Lawyers don’t enjoy anything.”
Strangely, the woman sounded serious. “Fine,” Piper said. She knew where Emerson and Rutledge was—she drove by the place on the way to the diner. “Ten a.m. works. Will Celeste be there?”
The pause was longer this time before the lawyer simply said, “No.”
“Of course not.” She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling hollowed and dizzy. “Ten tomorrow morning. See you then.”
“Goodbye, Ms. Starr.”
The call disconnected before Piper could hang up.
She leaned against the shed on shaking legs, and then eased down to sit on the ground before she collapsed. Eight years of silence, broken by a lawyer who wouldn’t tell her anything. As soon as she could stand again, she’d take her anger over to the range and shoot the hell out of something. She almost wished the lawyer had waited, called tomorrow and said come on down, right now. Now she’d have to suffer in the dark and imagine the worst until then. She didn’t even have anyone to talk to.
Or did she?
Last night had been a series of quiet revelations that kept snowballing, even after Jonah left. She’d never really looked at him beyond the obvious—constructed of pure muscle, sullen features framed by shoulder-length dark hair that typically hung in his face. That was probably why she’d missed how incredibly good-looking he was, and how very green his eyes were. Most green eyes were shades of hazel, and she’d assumed that was the case with Jonah. She hadn’t spent much time staring into his eyes. Mostly because he avoided looking at people.
But they were a stunning true green, with thick fringes of black lashes that made the color blaze. And they were far more expressive than the rest of him, which he kept under rigid control.
As if suddenly realizing he was gorgeous wasn’t enough, she’d gotten a glimpse beneath his shell. Two years of smirks and small gestures, single words and the occasional short sentence, and he’d finally asked her a question.
It was a hell of a question, too.
She’d surprised herself by responding honestly. And when she asked it back, she’d expected something…less. What she got was a minor miracle that almost broke her heart.
His answer said he not only knew exactly what everyone thought of him, but understood that she didn’t follow the party line. He did have feelings, and one of them was appreciation. She’d seen it in his eyes.
So maybe she could talk to him about this. Leave out the details and get the whole thing off her chest, ease some of the awful tension of not knowing. And maybe in return, he could unburden himself just a little. Talk about whatever it was that shuttered his expression, the things he kept buried beneath the mask of indifference.
She only hoped it wouldn’t take another two years to get that far.
* * * *
Jonah was pissed.
&
nbsp; Late last night, after he’d gone home to sleep off the bruising, he’d gotten a text from Eddie. The grand bastard had called a meeting in the middle of the day. He could count the number of “meetings” they’d had over the years on one hand, and always at night. Now he was apparently a goddamned corporation.
Jonah already had a day job, and Eddie knew it. He didn’t appreciate having to ask his brother for a few hours off, just so he could stand around and make Eddie look scary in front of his other so-called employees. Of course, Mark said it wasn’t a problem, and meant it. The second oldest—and the closest to Jonah after all they’d been through—Mark was the only one even close to understanding how dangerous his other job really was.
He didn’t appreciate that, either. Mark shouldn’t have to know.
Eddie’s place of business, if you could call it that, was a rusted hulk of warehouse down by the old rail yard. Jonah arrived early and pulled into the dirt lot that contained Eddie’s jeep and another vehicle he didn’t recognize. Probably one of the third-rate flunkies, looking to score points with the boss by showing “enthusiasm.” It usually took them a while to learn that trait wasn’t high on the man’s list of desirables. He wanted loyalty, obedience, brute strength, and a closed mouth.
When he got inside and saw who the other vehicle belonged to, he was instantly on alert. Eddie’s partner never came to meetings—in fact, he never came to the warehouse. The man was a silent partner in every sense of the word. Only a handful of people knew about his ties to Verona…mostly the ones who ended up needing transportation after Jonah broke them. And they weren’t talking.
“Jonah, you’re early.” Eddie grinned as he approached, and indicated the man to his right with a curt gesture. “You remember Patrick.”
“Yes.” Jonah gave him a narrow-eyed stare. He’d never trusted Patrick Stiles. The man was a toad, furtive and far too comfortable with certain skills he had no business knowing. He said all the right things, projected a perfect picture of compliance. But Jonah had a feeling he wasn’t as far in Eddie’s pocket as his boss thought.
Patrick nodded. “Mr. Dawson. Always a pleasure,” he said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
Jonah declined to respond. “I’d like a word with you,” he said to Eddie.
“Of course. Excuse us a moment.”
Eddie started across the warehouse floor, and Jonah followed. Before they’d gotten far, the man said, “You can untwist those panties now, Jonah. I know what your problem is.”
“Do you.”
“I took you away from your regularly scheduled program. Family bonding time on the construction site.” Eddie stopped and turned to face him. “Am I getting warm?”
“I’m not your bitch, Eddie.”
“Contrary to popular belief.” He quirked an eyebrow. “You know, a man can’t serve two masters for long,” he said. “Sooner or later, you’re going to have to choose between playing Erector Set with your little monkeys, or working for me—and I’m thinking it’ll be sooner.”
It wasn’t easy shrugging off the insult. “Are you giving me a choice?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re a vicious, petty bastard who wouldn’t have a problem shooting me in the back.”
“Oh, Jonah. You’re wrong about that.” Eddie flashed a wintry grin. “If I ever shoot you, it’ll be face to face. I’d want you to know it was me. Professional courtesy and all that.”
“Yeah. You’re a goddamned saint.”
Eddie shook his head. “I can see you’re upset,” he said. “Tell you what—just hear what I have to say at this meeting. I think you’ll find it interesting, and it might help you make up your mind.”
“About what?”
“Which master you’re going to serve.”
A dark look surfaced in Eddie’s eyes, and then he walked away.
Jonah stayed put, struggling to contain a swell of pure rage. He knew the score…at least, he did now. All those years ago, he’d sworn to get stronger than Eddie. But it was all pointless. Fist to fist, he could take the man in a fair fight without breaking a sweat. It was what allowed him to talk to his boss the way he did—with honest contempt. The problem was that Eddie didn’t fight fair. And even if Jonah beat him unconscious, he’d recover and come after him. With a gun. He hadn’t learned to punch bullets.
The only way out of this was over Eddie Verona’s dead body, but Jonah wasn’t a killer. And Eddie knew it.
It wasn’t long before the rest of the peanut gallery arrived. Jonah knew his place, so he made his way over to stand just behind Eddie and wait for the bomb to drop.
“All right, people. I’ll make this short and sweet.” Eddie waited until all eyes were on him. “Some of you might’ve heard about Ankles Martello. He ran the action up in Greenway, but he’s no longer with us.” A silky grin spread on his face. “Brought down by one of Covendale’s finest, I understand.”
Rough laughter passed around the gathered men. “Finest bunch of ass-clowns, you mean,” one of the thugs said.
“Yes, well, Ankles was never known for his fierce intellect.” Eddie folded his arms. “So with Mr. Martello out of the picture, there’s an opening in the market. And we’re moving in.” He glanced back at Jonah for an instant, and said, “We’re expanding operations to the city, people. Bigger clients, bigger pots. More work…and more money.”
Jonah barely heard the hearty reaction to the news. The buzzing in his head drowned most of it out. This was why Eddie mentioned choosing one or the other—if the loan shark planned to work in Greenway, he’d want Jonah’s services full-time. It was a massive raise in the stakes. More money, yes. Not that he wanted more. But it was a hundred times riskier than a small-town operation where the cops looked the other way.
Sickened, he turned away from the handful of men fawning all over Eddie, and happened to glimpse Patrick Stiles. Eddie’s partner wasn’t taking the news well. In fact, the man looked downright murderous.
Patrick caught his eye, and his expression changed slightly. He looked almost curious. But before Jonah could read anything into it, Eddie came up to him with a smug grin. “So, how about it?” he said.
“How about what?”
“The plan. What do you think?”
Jonah sneered. “Since when do you care what I think?”
“I don’t. I was just being polite.”
“Guess I’ll keep my opinions to myself, then.”
“Oh, but I already know them,” Eddie said. “They’re about the same as my man Patrick’s, here. You’d like to rip my head off and shove it backwards down my neck. You’ve just got different reasons. Am I right?”
“Rip it off, yes. But there’s somewhere else I would shove it, Eddie.”
Jonah nearly flinched at the sound of Patrick’s voice just behind him. He hadn’t even heard the man come up.
Eddie’s grin vanished. “Don’t hold back, Patrick. Tell us how you really feel.”
“I will. This is a serious mistake, and you know it.”
“Hey,” Eddie said sharply, jerking a thumb at Jonah. “Not in front of the help. Let’s take a walk.”
Patrick laughed. The sound was hollow, chilling. “Eight years, and you still think he’s going to talk? I’ve seen boulders that give away more than him.”
Jonah kept his expression blank. Patrick hadn’t even looked at him—but somehow he understood the man wanted him to hear this. Wanted him to know that things weren’t all sunshine and roses between him and Eddie.
“Fine. Speak your peace.” Eddie folded his arms. “You have to know that it won’t change my mind.”
“Low profile, Eddie. That’s the only way this works—you’ve said it yourself. And Greenway is not low profile.”
“It’s low enough,” he said. “Not like I’m waltzing into Manhattan with a hostile takeover bid. That city’s just as podunk as this town.”
Patrick bared his teeth, and for the first time Jonah noticed the real threat lurking beneath the
surface. “It’s crawling,” he said. “You go in there, and it’s all going to blow. How goddamned far do you think I can reach working like this?”
“As far as I tell you to,” Eddie said flatly. “And by the way, this conversation’s over. Goodbye, Patrick.”
After a long, brutal stare, Patrick walked away.
Jonah tucked away the bizarre exchange for later. He had a feeling it might be helpful somehow, if he could make any sense out of it. But right now, it looked like Eddie had something more to say.
“All right. You remember what I said before.” The man looked faintly disgusted, but it seemed directed at Patrick. “Money and power, or monkeys and erector sets. You can’t have both anymore.”
His jaw clenched hard. “You know what I’d choose,” he said. “But this isn’t my decision, is it?”
“Of course it is,” Eddie said. “You have until tomorrow night to decide to change your mind.”
“And if I don’t?”
Eddie grinned. “Then we’ll just have that face-to-face I mentioned,” he said. “Take tonight off, Jonah. I want you to have plenty of time to think.”
Unable to speak another word to the bastard, Jonah turned and strode from the warehouse.
Chapter 3
The first hour of Piper’s shift went fast enough, and for a while she managed to forget about the mysterious lawyer. But by midnight, when the customers had thinned to a few stragglers, there was nothing left to distract her.
The biggest question she had was why now? After all this time, something drastic must have happened. She refused to consider the worst-case scenario, so it left her thinking about the kinds of problems a lawyer would be involved in. Celeste could be anywhere, doing anything. Maybe there was a crime. Or an international issue. Her aunt might be stuck in a foreign country—or behind bars. Maybe that was why she’d been out of touch for so long.
Piper had just wiped down the corner booth from a party of two who’d apparently been on a first date when the bell jangled over the door. She straightened and turned, wearing her plastic waitress smile, but it faded away when she caught sight of the new arrival.
Dawson's Honor (Welcome to Covendale Book 6) Page 3
