Jonah was early. And miserable.
She was glad Rose had gone out back for a cigarette, so the other waitress wouldn’t make him feel any worse. He looked like someone had just run over his best friend and then set them on fire. Normally he’d walk straight to his booth and sit down. But he was still standing by the door, hands shoved in his pockets, panning a slow gaze across the diner like he wasn’t sure where he was.
And the few people seated were starting to stare uncomfortably at him.
Piper hurried over to him. “Hey,” she said, placing a hand at his elbow. He offered no reaction. “I didn’t expect you for another hour, at least. Short shift tonight?”
“Night off.”
The words were barely audible, but at least now she knew there was someone in there. “Even better,” she said. “Why don’t you come sit down?”
He didn’t answer, but he moved when she steered him gently toward the back corner. It took a few minutes to get him settled in. She decided to skip the banter over the menu this time, and simply said, “The usual?”
“Just coffee.”
Those two words were the heaviest she’d ever heard him speak. In all the time he’d been coming here, not once had he skipped the pie. Now she was genuinely concerned. Anything that Jonah Dawson was taking this badly would probably kill a regular person. “All right,” she said. “Mind waiting a few minutes? I’ll start you a fresh pot.”
He might have shrugged, but she couldn’t be sure.
“Be back soon,” she said.
She headed for the counter, hoping Rose would make it a short smoke break. An intervention was clearly needed. But just as she got the coffee going, the door jingled open and a couple of truckers in cowboy hats strolled through.
The truckers plunked down on stools, and Piper shifted gears to get them started. As she fetched menus, served drinks, and took orders, she tried to catch a glimpse of Jonah to check on him. But she could only see the edge of the corner booth from here, and he’d hunkered on the far side—as far from everything as he could get.
Rose came back as she was handing the truckers’ orders to Nate in the kitchen. “Hey, I need about fifteen minutes,” Piper said without preamble. “Can you handle things? Just those two orders, and they’re already in.” She gestured at the counter.
“Sure, I guess,” Rose said. “Everything okay?”
“I need to deal with my favorite customer.”
“Oh.” The other waitress actually backed up a step, as if she expected Jonah to materialize in front of her. “In that case, take all the time you want. Better you than me.”
“Thanks.”
She wouldn’t bother expressing her disapproval of Rose’s behavior this time. Obviously, it wasn’t doing any good. She grabbed a bowl of creamers and two clean mugs, filled them with fresh coffee, and headed for the booth.
Jonah looked…normal. For him, anyway.
He glanced at her and looked away. “Hey,” he said. “Sorry about that.”
“So you’re fine now.”
A shrug. “Sure.”
“No one set your best friend on fire.”
That earned her a quizzical glance. “Don’t think so.”
She sighed, put the tray on the table and slid into the booth. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
“Huh,” he said. “Never heard you swear before.”
“You should hear me at home. Blue streak, all the way.” She would’ve just gone back to work, if she hadn’t seen him when he walked in. But she knew he wasn’t fine. He was just damned good at hiding it—like her. “Well, I already told Rose I’m taking a break,” she said. “So you’re stuck with me for at least fifteen.”
“I don’t mind.”
Something in his tone made her shiver, but it wasn’t unpleasant. And she definitely wasn’t going to acknowledge it. She cleared her throat, put a mug in front of him, and started fixing her coffee. “Any chance you want to tell me what happened to you?”
After a pause, he said, “You first.”
“What?” She looked at him. His eyes were clear and concerned, his gaze steady. “Who says anything happened to me?”
“You do,” he said, nodding at her hands. “You’re twisting that ring. Last time you did that was the night your car broke down five miles from work, and you didn’t know how you’d get it back.”
“You remember that?” She couldn’t keep the astonishment from her voice. That happened at least a year and a half ago, maybe longer.
He shrugged and looked away.
“Well. Um.” She had planned to talk to him about this anyway, and maybe it would encourage him to share back. But she had no idea how to start. She looked at her ring, a slim silver band inlaid with tiny green stones—emeralds, her birth stone—and said, “My aunt gave me this.”
Her heart raced a little. Maybe not the best start, but at least she’d said something. “We were a family, just her and me.” She kept her gaze on the ring, not sure she wanted to see Jonah’s reaction to her little sob story. “One night she left town and promised to come back, but she never did. And now…” A heavy breath escaped her. “Now I’ve got a lawyer saying she represents my aunt, who wants to meet with me tomorrow. Only she won’t say why.”
Finally, she looked up. Jonah’s face gave away nothing, but his eyes reflected understanding. “When did she leave? Your aunt, I mean.”
“Eight years ago.”
He actually looked stunned. “How old are you?”
“It’s not polite to ask a lady her age.” She managed a smile. “I was seventeen when she left. Do the math, if you want.”
“So you’ve been alone since then?”
It was her turn to shrug. “It’s not so bad,” she said. “Besides, that isn’t the problem. I’ve been playing twenty morbid questions with myself since that lawyer called this morning, and…”
“It’s harder not to know.”
“Exactly.” A sense of relief washed over her. He knew what she meant, without her having to say it. “I mean, it could be anything. And I’m supposed to just wait around until the lawyer can see me in person, not knowing.”
“I’d be pissed off, too.”
Once again, his insight surprised her. “You know, most people would be sad, or worried, or terrified. Maybe relieved to finally hear something. Not angry.”
“But you’re not most people.” His smile was disarming. “If you’ve got something to say, you say it. And you expect the same from others. So when they don’t, it pisses you off.”
“You’re right,” she said. “It does.”
“It’s okay to be mad at her, you know.”
Piper frowned. “Yes. I just said I am.”
“Not the lawyer,” he said quietly. “Your aunt.”
She went still.
“Don’t say you’re not.” Jonah gave her a sad smile. “Trust me, I know that kind of angry. She made a promise to you. She broke it. That was wrong, and you should be mad. You have every right to be—even if this news from the lawyer is the worst that could happen. Especially then.”
Nothing had brought her this close to tears since the day she decided to move on with her life. He was right. She didn’t want to be angry at Celeste…but she was. Unspeakably so. And having someone tell her it was okay to feel what she felt was an incredible relief.
“Thank you,” she finally said.
He nodded. “No problem.”
“So…enough about me.” She really did feel better, and she wanted to return the favor. “I think you’ve talked more tonight than you have in the past two years combined. Want to keep going? I’m willing to listen.”
His brow furrowed. “To what?”
“To whatever had you so torn up when you came in here tonight,” she said. “I know you didn’t solve it with that cup of coffee.”
He stiffened visibly, and for a minute she thought he’d just get up and leave. But then he sighed and stared at his mug. “Did you ever have to make a choice that
wasn’t really a choice?”
“The kind where there’s only one option, and it sucks?”
“Right,” he said. “Even though the question is multiple choice, all the answers mean the same thing—you’re screwed.”
“I’ve had those questions before.” She knew he’d leave out the details, the same way she had, but at least he was talking. “Is that why you’ve got the night off?”
He nodded. “I’m supposed to think about it.”
The fury behind those words was unmistakable. She couldn’t even imagine the kind of choices he’d have to make, and it sounded like this one was harder than most. In fact, she’d bet it was very personal. She wanted to tell him something useful or encouraging, but maybe there really was nothing she could say.
Well, she’d try anyway.
“I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through,” she said. “But if I had an impossible problem, here’s what I’d do. Look at it from another angle.”
He offered a grim smirk. “All the angles are exactly the same.”
“From the inside, sure,” she said. “That’s why you have to step out of the shape. What you want is an answer that has nothing to do with the question.”
“There isn’t—” He stopped himself with an audible intake of breath, and didn’t move a muscle for a long moment. At last he said slowly, “Maybe there is.”
She smiled. “I hope so.”
“I have to go.” He stood abruptly, pulled out his wallet, and extracted a five. “Keep the change.”
She sighed and took the bill. Apparently, thank you wasn’t in his vocabulary, unless he was prompted. But she supposed she could give him a pass tonight. He was extremely distracted, and he had helped her first.
Then she realized he was staring at her. Smiling. And good God in heaven, he was heart-stopping gorgeous.
Really not what she wanted to be thinking right now.
“Thank you.” His deep voice warmed her through. “I’ll have to get two slices of pie tomorrow. Make up for tonight.”
“I’ll have them ready for you,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound like she was melting from the waist down. Good thing she was still seated.
“See you then.”
He left the diner with his confidence visibly restored, and Piper found herself wondering what just happened…and whether she could stop it from happening again. She had neither the time nor the inclination to be attracted to anyone.
Especially Jonah Dawson.
* * * *
Jonah headed across town to the least desirable neighborhood in Covendale, the one where he’d grown up. There was someone there who might be the answer that had nothing to do with the question.
When he’d first gone into the diner, he’d been ready to give up. He wasn’t even sure why he went there. Eddie’s damned announcement had effectively crushed everything he’d wanted—getting out, working with his brothers, maybe having a relationship someday. Anything close to a normal life would be impossible now. So he’d made the best peace he could with it.
Then Piper gave him something that had always been in short supply for him. Hope.
It wasn’t much hope. His chances were still slim to none, even if his hunch was right, and things still wouldn’t end well for him. But it was enough to kick him out of surrender mode and take a chance. And if it all blew up in his face—well, he couldn’t be any worse off than dead.
Cray’s wasn’t much to look at. Peeling paint, one boarded window, no signs out front. If you didn’t know what it was already, you weren’t likely to find it. The place was tucked away on a dead-end street where every other tumble-down house or rusted trailer was abandoned, and law enforcement limited their involvement to daytime drive-bys so they wouldn’t have to get involved with actual crime.
If Covendale had an underground, Cray’s was it. Every lowlife, petty criminal, and aspiring scumbag in town frequented the place—except for Eddie Verona, who thought he was too good for it.
But his partner wasn’t quite so picky.
Jonah parked among the general scatter of vehicles and went inside. The dimly lit front room had a kind of sitting area to the right, ratty couches and folding chairs flanking scarred tables that might hold blow, bongs, or bowls of pills, depending on who’d staked a claim for the night. Entertainment to the left included a big-screen TV—sports if there were bets running, porn if there wasn’t—and a cork dartboard that was more holes than cork. At the back was something like a bar that looked built by crackheads who’d been promised a fix for doing it.
Jonah headed that way. There were around a dozen people in the front, and none of them looked at him twice. He wasn’t exactly welcome here. Still, his reputation kept problems to a minimum.
Lex Cray glanced at him from behind the bar, where he was sitting in a battered chair and watching on an ancient, flickering tube television hooked to a VCR, and then offered his grudging attention when he didn’t wander off to join either of the parties. “You want something, Dawson?” he grunted.
“Yeah. Where’s Patrick?”
“Not here.”
“Bullshit.”
“Goddamn it.” The television fuzzed out, and Cray hunched forward to bang on it a few times until the grainy picture reappeared. “Said he’s not here. Buy a drink or get out.”
“He’s here, Cray. His car’s out front.” Jonah leaned on the counter, conscious of the figure in the shadowy corner with the police-issue baton. “Look, this isn’t business,” he said. “And by the way, if Breaker comes at me with that stick I’ll ram it down his throat.”
Cray let loose a heavy sigh and waved a hand. The shadows stood down. He gripped the arms of the chair and pushed up slowly, shoving a hand in his pocket to produce a key ring. “If you wasn’t the size of King Kong, I’d drum your ass outta here myself,” he grumbled. “You’re bad for business, and you never buy shit.”
“Get some shit worth buying, then.”
“Ha freakin’ ha.” Cray selected a key and unlocked a door to the right of the bar. “Back there. Second on the left,” he said. “You’d best knock first. Think he’s got company.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Jonah walked into a hallway lit by a sputtering bare bulb, then closed the door behind him and turned the deadbolt. This part of the building was for card games and prostitutes. He seriously hoped Patrick was engaged in the former.
The door Cray had pointed him toward opened before he got there, and a slip of a brunette in high-heeled boots and not much else walked out, pulling the door shut behind her. She stopped, swayed a little, and turned to stare at him. “Well, aren’t you a lot of man,” she said. “You here for playtime?”
“No.” He pointed at the room. “Patrick.”
“I’m not sure he swings your way, big guy,” she said. “Good luck, though.” With a low-pitched laugh, she tottered off down the hall.
Jonah waited until she was out of sight, then went to the door and knocked. Before long he heard a groan, followed by footsteps. “Hope you just forgot something, Lonnie,” a muffled voice said from inside. “I’m done for the night.”
The door opened, and a shirtless and disheveled Patrick stared out. “Oh. Not Lonnie.”
“We need to talk,” Jonah said.
Patrick frowned. “Yeah, I guess we do,” he said. “Come on, then.”
He turned and walked back into the room, and Jonah noticed several things at once. The way he favored his left leg slightly. The random scars on his shoulders and back, the black ace of spades tattoo on his neck. And the gun in his hand.
“It’s not for you,” Patrick said without turning, as if he’d read his mind. He tossed the gun on a nightstand next to the bed. “Just a personal policy. Never answer a knock without it.” The man sat on the edge of the rumpled bed and looked at him. “Close the door.”
Jonah did.
“I’d invite you to sit down, but you won’t.” Patrick grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the stand a
nd lit one. “Figured you’d show up pretty soon after what happened this morning,” he said. “You’re not as dumb as you act.”
“Thanks. I guess.”
“Funny how Eddie used to know that about you. He seems to have forgotten.” Still not looking at him, Patrick dragged on the cigarette and blew a slow stream of smoke. “Look, it’s not safe to talk yet,” he said. “Let’s just say you’re right, but I’m reluctant. I need to be careful this time.”
Jonah thought about that. From the little information he had, he could only conclude Patrick had tried to take Eddie down before—and failed. “How long will it take?” he said.
Patrick gave him a look of approval and a slight nod. “Too long, unfortunately,” he said. “If you’re in, you’ll have to stay on the leash a while longer. But I’m guessing you can handle that.”
“Yes.”
“So you’re in?”
He nodded. “I’m in.”
“Good.” Another long drag, and Patrick lifted his gaze to the ceiling. “You can’t contact me, understand? I’ll get in touch when it’s safe.”
“All right.”
“Well, aren’t you an agreeable son of a bitch.”
Jonah smirked. “No,” he said. “I’m determined.”
“Better make sure you’re determined for the right reasons.” Patrick turned a burning gaze on him. “I know what he did to you,” he said. “After Celeste.”
“How do you—”
“Never mind how.” Patrick pulled a glass ashtray from behind the nightstand lamp and ground the cigarette out. “He could’ve killed you for that, and you knew it. You haven’t disobeyed an order since. Why did you then?”
Jonah stared back at him. “Not sure that’s your business.”
“Tell me why.”
There was a command in Patrick’s voice he’d never heard before. He almost refused, but if this man was the key to escaping Eddie Verona, he’d play along. “Because I won’t hurt a woman,” he said.
“That’s it?” Patrick raised an eyebrow. “You’d rather die?”
“Pretty much.”
“Huh. Guess you’ve got a little more honor than the average criminal.”
Dawson's Honor (Welcome to Covendale Book 6) Page 4
