The Reunion Mission: The Reunion MissionTall Dark Defender

by Beth Cornelison

  That self-assurance had shattered when he wrapped her in his restrictive hold. The binding hold of his arms had frightened and enticed her at the same time. How screwed up was that?

  One minute his hold reminded her of being grabbed in the alley last night, spiking her anxiety. The next moment Jonah spoke his instructions in her ear and her tension dissolved, replaced by an odd thrum of desire.

  Having his arms locked securely around her gave her a sense of safety she hadn’t know in years. Feeling his body, a wall of strength and heat, pressed against hers made her head spin and her skin tingle. The scent of soap and man filled her nose and enticed her like forbidden fruit.

  Then Jonah described an attack scenario for his demonstration that raised a cold sweat on her temple and stirred a fresh swell of panic in her chest.

  She’d been fine, though, until she’d heard the change in his voice. His tone had dipped to a sexy rasp that told her she wasn’t alone in her attraction. She’d sensed the jolt of awareness that rippled through him in the tensing of his muscles, the moist rasp of his breath on the back of her neck. And her body had responded with its own shudder of anticipation.

  Squeezing her hands into fists, Annie tried to sort out the jumble of emotions churning her stomach and spinning her thoughts. Why did Jonah make her want to disregard all the painful lessons life had taught her about men?

  “Annie, what’s wrong?” The tender concern in Jonah’s voice did little to calm the frenzy of activity inside her. The man confused her. Frightened her. Tempted her when she had no business ever giving another man a second glance.

  Dear God, she’d just untangled her life and her children’s from a controlling, abusive monster. The last thing she wanted was to become involved with another man. Especially one whose prowess in the boxing ring she’d witnessed herself. He could be lethal if he chose. So why did Jonah’s gentle hands and warm eyes turn her insides to goo and scramble her sense of reason?

  Turning, she forced a fleeting smile. “Nothing’s wrong. I just...need to get home now. My kids...”

  His steady probing gaze flustered her, and she snatched up her purse without finishing the excuse. Clearly, he knew she was lying.

  “We’ve barely started. There’s more you need to know. Important tactics—”

  “No. I can’t stay. I—”

  “You need to protect yourself.” He crossed the room, stopping her as she tried to sidle out the door. “Some other time, then? I’ll be here again tomorrow. Same time.”

  She shook her head, avoiding the unnerving intensity of his dark eyes. “I have to work.”

  “Then you pick the day. I’ll be here.”

  “I don’t think so. I—I’ll get some pepper spray and...I’ll be fine.” She edged closer to the door, raising her head only long enough to slant him a quick smile. “Thanks, though.”

  He placed his hand on her arm, and her pulse jumped. His touch scorched her skin and weakened her knees.

  “Annie, you’re in the middle of a bad situation at the diner. I don’t know what’s going to happen now that Hardin’s money was stolen, but you need to take precautions. I don’t mean to frighten you, but—”

  “But you are.” She sighed and forced the starch back into her bones as she lifted her gaze to his. “I am frightened. But not just because of everything you’ve said tonight. I’m scared of a lot of things. I’m afraid I won’t have enough paycheck to feed my kids through the end of the week. I’m scared I’ll tick Hardin off and lose my job. I’m scared that while I’m working sixty-hour weeks at the diner, I’ll miss seeing my kids grow up. Haley lost a tooth today, her first, and I missed it!” Tears thickened her voice, but she plowed on. Once her vent started, she couldn’t stop the tide of frustration and pain. “And most of all, I’m terrified that some ignorant parole board will let my ex-husband out of prison, that I’ll have to go into hiding again so he can’t kill me!”

  Jonah straightened his spine and firmed his mouth as if satisfied to have his suspicions confirmed. But the hard edge in his expression softened and compassion warmed his eyes.

  In a quieter, more ragged voice, she whispered, “So yeah, I’m frightened, and your talk of money laundering and goons coming after me to shut me up doesn’t help. All I want is to raise my children in peace. I never wanted—”

  She choked on a sob, and Jonah tugged her into his arms, holding her against his wide chest.

  Annie dug her fingers into his T-shirt and rested her forehead under his chin. She hadn’t meant to spill so much of her personal life at his feet. But the damage was done now. He knew more than anyone else from the diner. More than anyone other than her women’s center counselor, Ginny.

  “I’ve seen what you’ve seen.”

  “It wasn’t easy to tell anyone my dad was a mean drunk...”

  Could Jonah actually understand something of the horror she’d been through? The possibility caused a hard tug in her chest. The comfort and protection of his embrace tempted her to lose herself for a few precious minutes. To lower her guard and let him into her heart.

  But relying on Jonah for her safety meant falling back into the traps that had imprisoned her in a violent marriage. Depending on any man for anything, whether security or shelter or her identity, would be a step backward. Wouldn’t it?

  Her kids were counting on her to be strong, to be self-reliant.

  She swiped at her runny nose with the back of her hand and shoved out of his arms. “I have to go. I’ve already stayed too long.”

  “Annie, if you’d—”

  Before he could finish, she jerked open the door and fled.

  “Annie, wait!” Jonah’s voice boomed through the cavernous gym, chasing her out to the street. Without looking, she knew he was behind her, that he’d follow her home as he had the night before.

  Just as she knew the feel of his embrace and warm breath in her ear were sweet sensations she wouldn’t soon forget.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning as Annie left for work, she paused at the edge of the parking lot and turned to wave at Haley, who watched from the apartment window. Her goodbye ritual, which Haley insisted on, took an ominous turn when she glimpsed a man for a split second before he darted behind a tree.

  Her heart fluttering erratically, Annie smiled and lifted a wave to her daughter, while keeping an eye on the large live oak tree where the man had disappeared.

  Jonah? Probably.

  For some reason she couldn’t fathom, he’d appointed himself her guardian. As she’d expected, he’d walked her home last night, having caught up to her several blocks from the boxing gym. She’d refused his offer to drive her, not wanting to be alone with him in the narrow confines of his front seat. Yet even outside, an arm’s-length away, walking the city streets back toward her apartment, he’d crowded her. His presence on her walk home had compounded the conflicting feelings her self-defense lesson had stirred. If Jonah was correct about the danger she was in, she appreciated his efforts to keep her safe. Yet the idea of needing a man’s protection nettled her, especially now when she was supposed to be making an independent stand.

  He had at least granted her wish for quiet, not bothering to make meaningless conversation. He’d only warned her to lock up when she got inside and bid her a good-night at the foot of the stairs to her apartment.

  So why, if he’d walked with her last night, was he being so furtive this morning? Sighing her irritation, Annie spun back around and marched toward the bus stop. She didn’t see him get on her bus when it arrived, yet the sense of being watched, being followed, stayed with her all the way to the diner. Annoying, cloying, unsettling.

  By the time she reached work, she’d grown edgy and waspish, and she planned to give him a piece of her mind. What was he doing tailing her like some pervert when his warnings of danger already had her jumpy and looking over her shoulder? The nerve of him!

  Annie stormed through the diner’s front door and slammed her purse under the front counter with a
huff.

  “Whoa,” a familiar male voice said. “I was going to say good morning, but obviously yours hasn’t been so far, if your mood is any indication.”

  She snapped her gaze up to the smiling man sitting at the lunch counter.

  Jonah. With a half-eaten plate of eggs and grits in front of him.

  Her pulse scampered as her pique morphed to dismay. “You’re here.”

  The corner of his mouth hiked higher. “Aren’t I every day?”

  “But if you’re here, then who—” A chill slid through her.

  One dark eyebrow dipped over Jonah’s incisive stare. “Who what?”

  Annie pressed a hand to her swirling stomach and shook her head. “I... Nothing.”

  Had the man behind the tree been her imagination? Had she really been tailed to the diner, or had she conjured the sensation because she’d expected Jonah to escort her?

  She twitched her lips, the closest thing to a grin she could manage at the moment. “Forget it. I...”

  She cleared her throat and tried to shake the jitters that danced down her spine.

  Jonah’s concerned gaze lingered, reminding her that just hours ago she’d been in his arms, held close to his masculine heat and strength. Yesterday, when his hands had been splayed intimately against her ribs, his warm breath fanning her nape, how could she not have entertained sexual images of him? And how did she keep those same images from taunting her this morning?

  She fumbled to unfold a clean apron, and though she studiously avoided Jonah’s gaze, she felt his eyes tracking her movements behind the counter.

  Susan, one of the other waitresses, stood by the order window, her long blond braid trailing down her back as she rolled silverware into napkins. “Mornin’, Annie. Am I ever glad you’re here! It’s been a zoo.”

  Annie returned a smile, glad for the distraction. “Good morning.”

  No sooner had the words left her mouth than the morning took a decided turn toward bad. Two regulars, the rude and intimidating men Jonah had been sitting with the night she was mugged, sauntered into the restaurant. The men slid into their usual booth, and the larger man snapped his fingers to call her to the table.

  As if she were a dog he could summon to grovel at his feet.

  Annie’s skin crawled, and she gritted her teeth.

  Susan stepped over to top off Jonah’s coffee. She gave the new arrivals a meaningful glance and rolled her eyes. “Want me to get their order for ya, hon?”

  Jonah glanced over his shoulder toward the men in question. His shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. If Annie hadn’t been looking for his reaction, she’d have missed the subtle flinch. Why had Jonah been talking with the two men the other night? Were they involved in the gambling and money-laundering investigation he was conducting?

  Hands shaking, she tied on her apron and shoved a fresh order pad in her pocket. She gave Susan a grateful smile and shook her head. “No. Let me go clock in, then I’ll take care of them.”

  “Devereaux!” the shorter man called to Jonah.

  Jonah sent Annie what she could only call a sharp, warning glance before he faced the men’s table and nodded an acknowledgment.

  The second man returned a nod, and Jonah carried his coffee over to sit at the men’s booth.

  Squelching the uneasy jangle inside her, Annie hurried into the kitchen to clock in.

  “You’re late!” Hardin shouted at her from his post beside the grill cook.

  Without answering, Annie walked carefully on the slick floor and consulted the time clock as she punched her card. She was, in fact, ten minutes early.

  He’s trying to rattle you. As if she needed further rattling that morning.

  Someone had followed her to the diner from her apartment. She was sure of it. If not Jonah, then who? And why?

  And what was she supposed to make of that odd look Jonah had just sent her? Was he trying to tell her something? Serving the goons was unnerving enough without Jonah sending her unspoken signals.

  Taking a deep breath for courage, Annie grabbed a coffeepot and headed to the goons’ table.

  * * *

  Temporarily setting aside his concerns surrounding Annie’s strange mood that morning, Jonah eased into the booth next to Pulliam and across from Farrout. “Morning, gentlemen.”

  Farrout arched one thick eyebrow. “You have something for me?”

  So much for small talk.

  Jonah fished in his back pocket, then slid a folded envelope across the Formica table. Farrout lifted the flap and verified the contents—a cashier’s check for eight thousand dollars. The bookie sent him a dark look.

  Jonah shrugged. “Like I said before, I’ll have the rest at the end of the month, after I get paid.”

  Pulliam scoffed, and Farrout silenced him with a hooded gaze. “With interest.”

  His anger spiking, Jonah balled his hand, then sucked in a deep breath to cool his knee-jerk reaction. “You never mentioned interest the other night. We agreed that—”

  “You want in or don’t you?” Farrout interrupted, his tone flat.

  Frustration gnawed at Jonah. He had to play by this scumbag’s rules if he wanted firsthand knowledge of how the operation worked. He ground his teeth and finally gave a jerky nod. “How much interest?”

  Farrout exchanged a look with his partner.

  “Twenty-five percent,” Pulliam said, angling his body to lean his back against the wall.

  Jonah was ready to argue the point when Pulliam’s gaze shifted.

  The scents of fresh coffee and flowers alerted Jonah to Annie’s arrival even before he turned. His libido snapped to attention. While she filled Farrout’s and Pulliam’s mugs with hot brew, Jonah inhaled deeply, and the floral aroma of her shampoo sparked memories of holding her body close at the gym. With effort, he shoved down his natural reaction to Annie.

  For her sake, he couldn’t give Farrout or Pulliam any indication there was any outside connection between him and Annie. He prayed she’d read his unspoken message warning her of the same before he’d joined the shysters at their table.

  He hazarded a glance at her, but she kept her eyes on her pad as she took the other men’s order. Before she left, her doelike eyes found his. “Anything else for you?”

  Her gaze clung, asking more than just what food he wanted. Jonah schooled his face, wanting with every fiber of his being to reach up and stroke the worry lines creasing her brow.

  He shook his head and tore his attention away before anything in his expression gave him away.

  Once Annie left, Farrout got back to the business at hand. “Here’s how it works. Your money goes into the pool with everyone else’s. If your team wins, you split the pot with anyone else who had money on the winner. Minus our cut, of course.”

  Jonah frowned. “Your cut.”

  Farrout shrugged blithely. “Like your friendly office pool, but with higher stakes.”

  “And your rules.”

  “Exactly,” Pulliam answered, a smug grin pulling his cheek. “We gotta make something for our services.”

  Jonah’s gut churned. How could Michael have gotten mixed up with something so obviously crooked?

  But Michael’s perception had been altered. His gambling had become an addiction. Compulsive. An illness. The high stakes would have been as tempting to Jonah’s mentor as a cold beer would be to an alcoholic.

  “So how big is the pool? How many people have paid in?”

  Farrout shook his head. “Proprietary information.”

  When Jonah scowled, Pulliam chortled. “What? You can trust us.”

  Trust them to fleece him like they’d fleeced Michael, perhaps.

  Annie returned with the men’s orders, and as she set Farrout’s plate in front of him, he seized her wrist. “I didn’t want toast. All I ordered was an omelette. Don’t try to charge me for toast I didn’t order, ya hear?”

  Jonah bristled, remembering the thug’s rough treatment of Annie a couple of nights earlier. He leaned
forward, ready to rip the bastard’s throat out.

  But something in Annie’s posture stopped him. Her mouth tightened, and color crept to her cheeks. Squaring her shoulders, she stared at Farrout’s grip on her arm, then stepped closer to him. “The omelette comes with toast. There’s no extra charge.” She circled her wrist, twisting her hand toward his thumb. And freeing herself from his grip. “Sir.”

  She stepped back, her expression almost as stunned as Farrout’s. Jonah bit the inside of his cheek to contain his proud grin and his chuckle of amusement at Farrout’s expense. He wasn’t in a position to gloat over Annie’s victory while he had business of his own to conduct.

  Farrout glared at Annie’s back as she marched back to the kitchen. “She just lost her tip.”

  Jonah squelched his gnawing disgust for Farrout and focused on his goal. If his plan worked, he’d have the sweet satisfaction of ending Farrout’s days of manhandling waitresses. Permanently.

  He sat through the rest of his meeting with Farrout and Pulliam wishing he could scoop Annie into a bear hug and congratulate her for taking a stand, for her skilled use of the technique she’d only learned last night. He prayed that this demonstration of the technique’s effectiveness would convince her to continue with the private lessons.

  But did he want to teach Annie one-on-one for her sake—or for his? He couldn’t deny his attraction to Annie. He wanted to spend more time with her, get to know her, explore the mysteries that surrounded her. But even without his nine years at the Little Rock Police Department, anyone could have figured out the intimate nature of the private lessons bothered Annie.

  After Farrout and Pulliam left the diner, Jonah headed up to the lunch counter to pay for his breakfast. His encounter with the two bookies left him feeling contaminated, tainted by association. His gut told him these two lowlifes were responsible for conning Michael, sending him into the downward spiral that ultimately killed him.

  Jonah itched to get into the ring and work off his frustration with the slow pace of his investigation. He needed to sweat off Farrout’s invisible filth, which clung to his skin and infected his soul.