Tall Dark Defender

by Beth Cornelison

  “Whoa.” Ginny held up her hand. “Back up a second. Jonah? Who is that?”

  Annie glanced down at her lap where her hands fidgeted. “He’s a customer at the diner. A regular. He…followed me the night I was supposed to make that delivery, and he…defended me from the mugger. Probably saved my life.” She squeezed her eyes shut, picturing Jonah’s rugged face, his warm green eyes. Her stomach twirled and pirouetted dizzily, but, surprisingly, the sensation was not an unpleasant one. Instead, thoughts of Jonah stirred her pulse with the exhilaration of a carnival ride.

  Annie huffed and forcibly tamped down the tingling reaction. She had no business indulging in any frivolous schoolgirl distraction when her job, her life, her children’s safety could well be in jeopardy. “Jonah…has made himself my guardian. He’s taken it upon himself to teach me to protect myself or see that I take a self-defense class. He wants to drive me to and from work, and he…”

  When she paused, Ginny said, “He sounds like a good guy to have on your side. So why do I get the impression you are less than thrilled?”

  “I didn’t ask for his help. Not that I don’t appreciate his assistance the night I was mugged, but I…I don’t want…”

  Ginny leaned forward. “Spit it out. Don’t edit your true feelings.”

  Annie took a deep breath. “I don’t want to need him. I don’t want to depend on him and get trapped in a relationship that’s bad for me again.”

  Ginny picked up a pencil to doodle as she thought, a quirky habit Annie had grown familiar with in the past two years. “Is that where you think your association with him is headed? A romantic relationship?”

  “I…No. I didn’t mean…I just…” Annie sighed. “I don’t know. I’m not looking for a relationship right now. Truly. But if I’m honest—”

  Ginny raised a palm. “Honesty is the best policy…and all that jazz.”

  “I find myself thinking about him a lot. And I feel…safer somehow when he’s around.” Annie sighed, then hurried to add, “But that’s the thing. I don’t want to reach a point where I only feel safe with him around, where I depend on him for…well, for anything.”

  Ginny rubbed her chin, clearly weighing her response. “There’s a difference between being emotionally secure and self-reliant, and isolating yourself out of fear. Don’t be too quick to cut yourself off from people, Annie. We all need other people in our lives sometimes.”

  Ginny’s gaze drifted to the wedding portrait on her desk, and the corner of her mouth lifted. “At its best, a loving relationship makes you a stronger, better person. The right man will complement you, not eclipse you. It’s about give and take, sharing and supporting each other. Being a team where both partners contribute the best of themselves.”

  Annie stared at a knot in the hardwood floor of Ginny’s office. Had her marriage to Walt ever been a partnership where they complemented each other? From the beginning, Walt had taken the lead and made decisions about their future, their lifestyle, their finances. Annie had been left to follow…or be forced into compliance.

  “I only just got my freedom back, my independence. Getting into another relationship now seems…” She fumbled for the right word.

  “So don’t get into another relationship yet,” Ginny said. “That’s not what I’m telling you. Just don’t be afraid of building something special with a man because you’re afraid of losing yourself again. Because the right man will help you discover all your best qualities, will support you and let you shine. Just like you’ll do for him.” Ginny laced her fingers. “Stronger together. A team.”

  Annie nodded, stashing the advice away to ruminate on later. “And the other stuff I mentioned? The mugging, the money laundering, the self-defense classes…what am I supposed to do with all that?”

  Ginny stabbed her desk with her finger. “Take the class. Knowing how to protect yourself is always a good thing. As for the money laundering…I can call Libby Walters in the D.A.’s office if you want an official investigation opened.”

  Annie shook her head. “No. Jonah doesn’t want to involve the local police yet. He’s afraid one of the players will get wise to his investigation and all his work will be lost.”

  “But if there is something illegal and dangerous going on—”

  Annie sat up straight, her mind made up. “Jonah is an ex-cop. I believe he knows what he’s doing.”

  Somehow saying the words reassured her. She felt no hesitation defending Jonah’s handling of the investigation. What did that say about her deepest, truest feelings?

  Ginny arched an eyebrow. “You’re sure? Because if you ever change your mind about this, you can call me, and I’ll have Libby look into—”

  Annie gave a tight nod. “I’m sure.”

  “And the mugging. How are you handling that? Any nightmares? Trouble sleeping? Issues you want to talk out?”

  “I’ve had…a few flashbacks of Walt’s abuse.” Annie fingered the hem of her uniform skirt. “Especially seeing Jonah using his fists so effectively.” She paused and glanced up at Ginny. “Did I tell you Jonah spars as a hobby? He fights for fun. For exercise.”

  Ginny scowled. “Has he given you reason to think he’ll turn that violence against you?”

  “Not yet. In fact, like I mentioned, he’s encouraged me to learn self-defense.”

  Relaxing in her chair again, Ginny absently scratched another doodle. “So…stay alert with him. Be watchful for signs he’s dangerous, but…give him a chance to prove his worth, too.” She glanced up, and her gaze invited a response. “What else has been happening?”

  Gnawing her lip, Annie thought about the creepy sensation of being watched on her way to work. “Well, I get the feeling someone is following me when I come and go from the diner. But that could just be paranoia.”

  “Just the same, be extra careful. Take Jonah up on his offer of a ride. Better safe than sorry, huh?”

  A knock on Ginny’s door interrupted them, and the receptionist poked her head in. “Sally Hendridge is here when you’re ready.”

  “Thanks, Helen.” Ginny rose from her chair and circled her desk.

  Annie took the cue that the meeting was over and stood as well, only to find herself drawn into Ginny’s friendly embrace.

  “Take care of yourself, Annie. And give those sweet kiddos of yours a hug from their aunt Ginny.”

  “I will.” Annie backed out of the hug and picked up her purse. While Ginny made her feel more optimistic, in general, her friend had also given her a great deal to think about regarding Jonah.

  Thinking in terms of a relationship with him was more than a little premature. Still, she reviewed everything Ginny had said as she left the women’s center and headed to the bus stop.

  Like that morning, the sensation of being watched dogged her on her trip home. She checked behind her numerous times, but never spotted any one person she considered a threat. But then her stalker, if there was one, wouldn’t advertise his presence. Would he? Or was it, as she’d suggested to Ginny, merely her imagination and paranoia at work?

  She tried to discount the odd feeling, but the next morning as she made her way through the predawn darkness to open the diner, the sensation returned in full force.

  Finding the entrance to the diner unlit only heightened her jitters. Perhaps she should follow Ginny’s advice and take Jonah up on his offer of a ride home. And she’d look into the Lagniappe PD’s class, if for no other reason than to calm the jangling nerves that made her commute to the diner and back home so tense.

  Annie fumbled to key the front door lock but discovered it was already open. Odd.

  Grumbling under her breath about Mr. Hardin’s multiple oversights in closing the restaurant the night before, Annie started a pot of coffee and headed to the kitchen to clock in and collect the cleaning supplies she’d need to prepare the restaurant for opening.

  Instead, she found Hardin sprawled on the office floor in a puddle of blood.

  When Jonah arrived for breakfast at Pop’
s, a swarm of cops milled around the entrance and crime scene tape barred the gathering of reporters and curious onlookers from entering the diner. His heart rose to his throat as a black body bag was wheeled out by the coroner and loaded in a hearse.

  Panic squeezed his chest, and he struggled to recall the waitresses’ work schedule he’d conned Susan into showing him, knowing Annie wouldn’t share her schedule willingly.

  Friday. Annie was slated to open the diner.

  Dear God.

  Adrenaline pumped through him, jangling his nerves. A cold sweat beaded on his lip as he searched the crowd for Annie’s face.

  Years of experience with crime scenes that should have allowed him some professional distance vanished. When someone you cared about was involved, objectivity flew out the window.

  He spotted Lydia and shoved through the horde of reporters and cameramen. Seizing Lydia’s arm, he spun her around. “What happened? Where’s Annie?”

  The gray-haired woman scowled at him and fought his grip until recognition dawned on her face. “Oh, Mr. Devereaux, it’s you. I thought you were another vulture reporter trying to exploit this tragedy for ratings.”

  She huffed indignantly and sent a scathing look down the sidewalk to the aforementioned scavengers.

  Jonah fought down the rising fear that coiled inside him, forced his voice to remain calm. “What tragedy, Miss Lydia? What happened?”

  “It’s Hardin. Poor Annie found him shot dead in his office when she got here this morning to open the place.”

  Relief that the body bag hadn’t been for Annie, and a gnawing concern for her trauma, tangled inside him.

  Lydia shuddered and wrinkled her nose in dismay. “I can’t even imagine how grisly and horrifying that had to have been for her,” she said, mirroring Jonah’s thoughts.

  “Where’s Annie now?” He cast another searching glance over the rubbernecking bystanders. “What happened to her? Is she all right?”

  “Shook-up real bad, but not hurt.” The older woman’s face crumpled in sympathy. “Poor dear. Last I saw her, one of the cops had put her in the back of a cruiser to take her statement, get her out of the diner and away from the pushy reporters.” She aimed a finger down the block. “Over there.”

  Jonah squeezed Lydia’s hand. “Thanks.”

  He jogged down the street in the direction Lydia had pointed, searching each of the numerous police cars for Annie. When he spotted her, a curtain of dark hair shielding her bowed face, her thin shoulders hunched forward, her body rocking rhythmically back and forth on the rear seat of a cruiser, his gut twisted. Her body language reflected abject misery and terror.

  A suffocating urgency to reach her, comfort her, protect her, grabbed him by the throat. He darted around the cluster of uniformed officers holding court on the sidewalk and knocked on the car window. “Annie!”

  Her head jerked up, eyes wide. A gray pallor leeched her complexion. In seconds, the officers on the sidewalk assessed Jonah as a threat and seized his arms.

  “Back off, sir,” one cop ordered as he hauled Jonah back from the police car.

  Annie scrambled to find the door handle, beating it with her fists when she found herself trapped in the cruiser’s escape-proof backseat.

  “That’s my girlfriend,” he lied. “I just want to talk to her! Can’t you see she’s upset?”

  “She’s a material witness. Until the detectives question her—”

  “I know the drill!” Jonah released his frustration on the uniform. “I was on the job in Little Rock for nine years! I just want to hold her, calm her down.” He shook free of the man’s grip and shoved past another cop blocking his path.

  “Sir, you can’t—”

  Jonah stuck his nose in the second cop’s face. “Look, pal, you can stand right next to us and monitor our conversation if you want. We won’t discuss the case. But I am going to let her out of that car.” He met the officer’s narrowed gaze with a dark glare of his own, then grated through clenched teeth, “Now get the hell outta my way.”

  With a determined stride around the cop, Jonah snatched open the cruiser door.

  Annie lunged from the backseat and fell into his arms. “Jonah!” she gasped, her body trembling. “They killed Hardin! They shot him! Oh, God, Jonah.”

  He crushed her slim body to his chest, only to find his arms were shaking as much as she was. Just holding her, knowing she was safe, released the knot of tension that strangled him. He clung to her, stroking her back and sucking in deep restorative breaths.

  “Oh, Jonah, it was horrible. There was blood everywhere, and his eyes—”

  “Shh,” he murmured into her ear. “Don’t say anything now. We can’t talk about the case until you’ve answered all the police’s questions. Okay?”

  She raised frightened eyes to his and nodded. A near-convulsive tremor shook her, and she dug her fingers into his arms.

  “Is this my fault?” she rasped under her breath.

  Jonah’s gut clenched. “No!”

  “But I—”

  His grip tightened, and his gaze drilled into hers. “No! You can’t think that way.”

  “We both know why this happened.”

  Jonah cut a furtive glance to the cop standing a few feet away, listening. He had to keep Annie from saying too much, incriminating herself or blowing his investigation.

  She shivered, near hysterics. “A-and I’m the one who lost—”

  He kissed her. Just a quick collision of mouths. Not the deep, intimate kiss she deserved and he hoped he could give her someday, but enough to shock her into silence.

  Enough to tell him her lips were every bit as soft and sweet as they looked. Enough to fire both his libido and his primal protective instincts.

  She blinked. Gaped. Lifted a trembling hand to her mouth.

  Guilt kicked him. Perhaps now, when she was already vulnerable, shaken by Hardin’s murder, wasn’t the best time to complicate his tenuous relationship with Annie. Even if the kiss kept her from incriminating herself in front of the eavesdropping cop.

  Blowing out a cleansing breath, he turned to the cop. “When will she be done here? I want to take her home.”

  The officer arched an eyebrow and flashed a suggestive I-just-bet-you-would grin. Jonah gritted his teeth, battling down the urge to wipe the smug look off the man’s face. But getting arrested for assaulting an officer would do Annie and his investigation no good.

  “We just have a few more questions to ask her. She was in shock earlier, and we were giving her time to calm down.”

  Jonah brushed the hair back from Annie’s cheek and gently massaged the tense muscles in her shoulders. “You feel up to some questions?”

  Annie turned a wide-eyed glance to the policeman. “Can h-he stay with me?”

  “Sorry. No.” When her face turned a shade whiter, the man hitched his head toward the sidewalk. “He can wait right there, though. This will only take a minute.”

  Jonah took Annie’s icy hands in his and squeezed. “I’ll wait for you.” He brushed a soft kiss on her knuckles and backed away. “You’re strong, Annie. You can do this.”

  Her expression, as she cut a glance toward the cop, said she didn’t agree.

  Jonah leaned his back against the brick wall of the building next door to the diner and kept a close watch as Annie gave her statement and answered questions. He only caught snatches of the conversation. But having conducted more of these interviews than he liked to remember when he’d been on the force in Little Rock, he could fill in the blanks. Crossing his arms over his chest, he scanned the gathered crowd, scrutinizing faces, taking mental note of who’d come to rubberneck.

  Could Hardin’s killer still be lurking in the area? Somehow he doubted it. The killing could have been a robbery gone bad, but he doubted that, too.

  Annie’s instinct that the killing was related to the cash delivery stolen from her was much more on the mark. But in this day and age, where money could be transferred from one account to another wi
th the click of a mouse and the blink of a cursor, why deal with cash and messengered deliveries? The whole scenario reeked. He was certain the thief had been waiting for Annie, the delivery a setup to squeeze Hardin.

  Was the head of the operation getting greedy, trying to eliminate the fringe players to keep more profit for himself? Had Hardin become a liabilty?

  Jonah clenched his teeth. He needed more hard evidence soon so he could close his investigation, nail the bastards responsible. Before anyone else got hurt. Like Annie.

  A cold ball of fear settled in his gut. Annie could easily be the thief’s next target if he thought she knew too much.

  Time to change tactics with Annie. She still needed to learn to protect herself, but Jonah wasn’t about to leave her safety up to a few lessons in self-defense moves. Whether she liked it or not, he intended to stay at her side, watching her back until he knew the men responsible for Michael’s death and Hardin’s murder were behind bars—or dead.

  Chapter 9

  Cold permeated to her bones.

  Annie rubbed her arms as she answered the cop’s questions, but her hands did little to displace the chill that sank deep into her marrow. Hardin’s lifeless stare haunted her whenever she closed her eyes. The metallic scent of blood overlaid by remnants of day-old grease lingered in her nose, churning her stomach with every inhaled breath.

  “Do you own a gun, Ms. Compton?” the cop asked, jerking her attention back to the seemingly endless questions.

  She blinked, stunned by the implication. Did they suspect she had killed her boss? That she had a motive to shoot Hardin?

  And did it matter if she hadn’t actually been the one to pull the trigger? Hardin was just as dead, and her careless loss of his money was why he’d been murdered. She knew that much with a horrifying clarity.

  The icy numbness burrowed deeper. “N-no. I—I’ve never owned a gun.”

  “Do you have access to someone else’s gun?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t do this. I found him already…dead.”