Arms of Promise

by Crystal Walton

  Chapter Six

  Barrier

  Megan tapped her shoes against the back of Evan’s seat in rhythm with the music coming from the stereo. Thankfully, he’d slipped out ahead of them and transferred his gear from the backseat to the trunk. Otherwise, she’d be annihilating it right now instead of his spine.

  A glance in the rearview mirror caught her smiling up at him with that cute freckly nose. Anna was right. Everything about Megan’s appearance screamed neglect, yet her face held nothing but joy.

  His stomach soured at the thought of what conditions they were bringing her home to. No one deserved a childhood like his. Especially not an innocent girl.

  In the passenger seat, Anna stared out the side window. Away from him. Hard to blame her. A charged awkwardness hadn’t stopped surging between them since their conversation about Marissa.

  No telling what Anna thought of him now. He’d essentially admitted to hiding behind having a fake girlfriend in order to handle facing her. His knuckles whitened over the steering wheel.

  “Up here on the right,” Anna said, still without turning her head.

  He pulled beside the curb and noted six cars lining the street in front of a shabby apartment complex with everything he’d expected written all over it.

  Clenching his jaw, Evan unlocked the doors. Thanks to his gut, he’d already secured his Sig in his concealed holster before the girls had made it to the car earlier.

  Megan skipped up a set of metal stairs on the side of the building while Evan and Anna trailed cautiously behind. The stench billowing from a nearby dumpster churned Evan’s already-uneasy stomach a little more with each step.

  After knocking, Anna twisted Megan’s hair into a braid from behind.

  The door creaked open, and a guy in an oversized black T-shirt and jeans hanging halfway off his butt let his gaze roam Anna up and down. A smug grin expanded beneath bits of greasy blond hair. “You didn’t tell me you called a friend,” he hollered behind him.

  Evan stepped into view, and the punk flinched backward.

  “Heather, what the—?”

  “I didn’t call anyone.” A young woman with sallow cheeks and red hair to match the rims of her eyes tottered up from the couch. A spoon and lighter clattered onto the coffee table. While scratching her arm with one hand, Heather wiped her nose with the other. She stumbled forward, glared at them, and tugged her daughter inside by the shirt. “It’s just her dance teacher.”

  Megan reached for Anna.

  Don’t say it. Don’t say her name.

  “Miss Madison,” she whimpered.

  Evan swore to himself. Now the loser had something to go on.

  The grimy creep traced a hand down Megan’s hair. “Aw, you won’t mind hanging out with Mommy and her friends tonight, will you?”

  Anna slapped the jerk dead across the face. “Don’t you touch her.”

  Vehemence darkened his bloodshot eyes.

  Evan swept her behind him. “Back down, man.”

  Grease Boy shoved him and went for the Glock in his waistband. “You the one who better back down.” He waved the gun in Evan’s face like he was posing for some hip-hop video. “What’s up now, punk? Not so tough with heat up in your grill.”

  Evan should’ve gotten a badge for restraining an eye roll. With a twist of the guy’s wrist, Evan disarmed him, released the magazine, and pulled the slide back to empty the chamber. He backed up to chuck the magazine off the railing outside and thrust the empty gun against the guy’s bony chest without wasting his breath on a response.

  Grease Boy shifted his glare to Anna and yelled over his shoulder. “Have my money by Friday, Heather, or you ain’t the only one who’s gonna pay.”

  Just what Anna needed on top of everything else. Some lowlife thug putting a hit on her. Evan barricaded her behind him so the punk couldn’t memorize what she looked like.

  An all too familiar fear lit Heather’s glassy eyes as she watched her dealer jog down the steps. She closed the door, blocking the shaken look on her face from Evan’s view but not from his heart. He’d endured that kind of helplessness too many times.

  Anna clawed around Evan’s shoulder. He understood, but now wasn’t the time. He caught her at the waist. “We gotta roll.” Grease Boy would be back with his crew.

  “No.” She fought against his pull. “We can’t leave Megan here.”

  “We have no choice.”

  Anna shoved away from him, hair a hot mess, eyes sharp. She whipped out her phone. “We at least need to call someone. The police, Child Services—someone!”

  It wouldn’t make a difference in the end. He knew that better than anyone. Even if they charged Heather for neglect, or put Megan in foster care, it’d probably make the situation worse.

  “We’ll call Harris on the road, and I’ll swing by later to check on her, but we gotta go.”

  Anna burrowed her feet. He stole her phone and tucked it into his pocket. A glare he’d pay for later pummeled him. Sighing, he heaved her over his shoulder. She always had to do things the hard way.

  “You did not just do that.” Anna wrestled to free herself from his hold.

  He pinned her legs tight across his chest to avoid taking a knee to the gut. She could probably out leg press Casanova.

  At the car, he opened the door and slid her inside. She reached for his neck and held his face an inch away, heated breaths meeting his. The tension already teeming through his body rocketed into an entirely different sphere. He needed to move. Now.

  He shut the door and craned his head to the dark sky. Breathe, O’Riley.

  Behind the wheel, he cranked the engine and exhaled. Frustration radiated off her seat. Anna could be mad as long as she was safe.

  “I’m gonna come back, Evan.”

  God, give him patience. “No, you’re not.”

  She turned. “Yeah, I am.”

  “Do you have any concept of danger?”

  “Yes! Why do think we have to get her out of there? It doesn’t matter if I get hurt.”

  “It does to me.” His fingers tensed around the gearshift.

  Anna clenched her jaw, curtailing the beginning of tears.

  She might’ve been angry, but it was obvious she was scared, too. More for Megan than for herself. Heaving an exhale, Evan climbed back out of the car. On the other side, he opened the door, pulled her up, and closed her in his arms.

  Her initial resistance waned as her body melded to his. She clung to his shoulders. “Promise me she’ll be okay, Evan.”

  Keeping her close, he cupped her head. “I promise.” He leaned back and searched her face. “But I need you to let me take care of you right now. Please.”

  She nodded, and he helped her back into the car.

  Once on the road, he scrolled to Harris’s number.

  “I’m working on it,” Harris said, skipping the hellos.

  Evan flipped on his blinker and refrained from telling him to work faster. “I got another plate for you to run. Echo Kilo Oscar Six Zero Delta One.”

  Anna gawked at him as he merged into traffic, but he veered his gaze back to the road. “Put out a BOLO for a midnight blue Chevy Impala. Driver’s a local dealer, about five foot seven, blond, medium build. Last seen at intersection of Stewart and 58th.”

  “Charges?”

  “Drug possession, dealing, brandishing a firearm. Take your pick.”

  It sounded like Harris dropped his pen on his desk. “O’Riley—”

  “At least run the plates.”

  A drawn-out breath filtered through the line. “Give me an hour.”

  “Later.” Evan hung up, slipped his cell into the cup holder, and caught another gaping stare from the passenger seat. “What?”

  “How do you know what car that guy drives?”

  Evan bumped his wipers on. The blades dragged across the windshield, smearing several raindrops in their path. “The Impala was the only car missing when we came out.”

  “Wait. What?” Anna pulled
one foot up into the seat and twisted toward him. “You’re telling me you memorized the cars outside the apartment and each of their license plates? We were out front for, like, two minutes, tops.”

  He shrugged. Studying an area was part of any op—so ingrained, it was as natural as eating and sleeping.

  “You know, the whole Jason Bourne thing you’ve got going on is starting to freak me out a little.”

  Before Evan could respond, a ding from his cell announced the tracker he’d placed on Crater Face was on the move again. He swiped the screen to check the GPS. The guys tailing Anna weren’t nearby yet, but he didn’t doubt they would be soon. And now he had to add that loser from Megan’s place to the list of people they had to dodge. Evan swerved to the right.

  Anna gripped the door panel. “Where are you going?”

  “Scenic route.” He didn’t see a tail, but they’d stayed longer at the apartment than he’d intended.

  Rain beat onto the window and sent rivulets streaking down the glass. He rotated the wipers up another notch and glanced in Anna’s direction. Streetlights cast soft shadows across her face as she traced an erratic pattern up and down the seat belt, clearly lost in thought.

  Surely, things like tonight showed her she needed protection. He struggled for the right words. “Anna, I know you value your independence, but would it really be so bad for your dad to want to offer you surveillance?”

  “From one of his Secret Service wannabes?” Scrunching her face in feigned seriousness, she raised an imaginary wrist mic to her mouth the way her dad’s guards did any time they found her. “Radiance secured,” she mimicked. “Come on. I’m not the president’s daughter. I don’t need a code name or bodyguards following my every move. You, of all people, know what growing up like that did to me.”

  Without facing her, Evan shifted into third gear. “Some people might call protection love.”

  “And some might call it a cage.” Anna clutched her elbows, her words like a vice around him. Would she ever see it differently?

  He coasted into a parking spot alongside her apartment complex. “Regardless of how it seems, the streets are a dark place.”

  “Relax, Batman. This isn’t Gotham. It’s Chicago.”

  Close enough. And what was with people making superhero references today?

  He unbuckled his seat belt and met her gaze, thankful her eyes had never seen the things his had. “Anna, listen to me. Soldiers don’t train to pacify civilians’ fears. We train because evil’s real. The moment you think it isn’t is the moment it wins.”

  “But admitting it’s real doesn’t mean it loses, either.” Chin lowered, she toyed with the hem of her sweater.

  After losing her mom, Anna had every right to think that. But if she’d just trust him, he’d never let that darkness near her.

  “You’re right, you know,” she said after another moment. “About Social Services. I’ve tried calling before. I knew Megan didn’t have a good home life, but I didn’t realize . . .” Eyes closed, she cut herself off.

  “You can’t change her situation, Anna.”

  She stared at her lap and released a hard exhale. “I know. I just hoped teaching her dance might help make life more bearable . . . the way it did for me.” Anna raised her head. “I’m not giving up on her, Evan.”

  Like she hadn’t on him. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

  “I wish things were different for her.”

  It’d only taken one day with the sweet girl to feel the same exact way. “I know.” He traced his thumb over the back of Anna’s hand and nodded outside. “C’mon. I’ll get your bag.”

  Cold beads of rain landed on his neck as they jogged up to the building.

  She led the way to the second-floor apartment, where high-pitched meows carried on from behind her door.

  “Who are we gonna get today?” he mumbled.

  Anna pulled out her keys. “What?”

  He pointed to her apartment and the incessant meowing still coming from inside. “Split personality. Sméagol or Gollum?”

  Rolling her eyes, Anna unlocked the deadbolt, inched the door open, and nudged the gray tabby back with her foot. “Hang on, Bailey girl. I know you’re hungry.” Anna flipped on the lights, and the cat weaved through her legs, purring with enough gusto to rival a train on the “L.”

  Sméagol. That was a good sign. But just in case, he’d check the place out. Evan motioned toward the hallway. “I’m gonna drop your bag in your room and use the bathroom, if that’s all right.”

  “Sure.” Anna set her purse on the kitchen counter and went for the cans of cat food in the pantry.

  Down the hall, he withdrew his Sig and inched the bedroom door open. After sweeping the room, he slipped into the bathroom and checked behind the curtain. Nothing but a few paw prints. He secured his gun, washed up, and headed back to the kitchen to find Anna humming while preparing hot chocolate.

  Nothing hampered her spirits for long. She popped a few mini marshmallows in a mug with One Kitty Away From Becoming A Crazy Cat Lady written on it and turned. “Want one?”

  And stay longer with her? More than he should. “I need to get going.”

  “Right. Yeah.” Anna left her mug and shuffled across the peeling linoleum, hands in her pockets. “I, um . . . Thanks for today. All of it.” She peered up with an adorable frazzled expression on her face, as if she found saying good-bye as awkward as he did. An almost bashful grin touched her lips. “I really enjoyed hanging out with you.”

  His throat turned to cotton while he stood in front of this amazing woman looking at him with such honest vulnerability. “Me too.”

  He opened the door, stopped across the threshold, and swallowed before turning. Leaning her hip and temple against the edge of the door, Anna sent another unassuming smile his way. Man, why’d he turn around?

  A damp breeze blew in from the front door. His gaze shot from an older guy walking in back to Anna. “Don’t unlock this door for anyone. You understand me?”

  She gave a quick nod.

  “If so much as a single hair rises on your arm tonight, you call me. I don’t care what time it is. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He blew out a breath. Now, back away. For the first time since being around her again, his legs actually obeyed and stepped backward. “Good night, Anna.”

  “Good night.” She closed the door.

  He didn’t move again until the deadbolt clicked into place. Gripping both sides of the trim, he pressed his forehead against the door, thankful for the steel barrier keeping him from a battle he would’ve lost if he’d stayed.

  She’d be livid if she knew her dad had one of his town cars staked across the street, but at least Evan could leave with some peace of mind knowing she had surveillance for the evening. As much as he wanted to stay and make her feel safe, Anna needed him on the field, which was exactly where he was headed.

  Chapter Seven

  Present

  Staked out in his Accord across from a park near Anna’s place, Evan drank the Americano he’d picked up on the way to follow the GPS tracker. The men had ditched the Suburban for an Escalade. Nothing like trying to keep a low profile.

  Evan adjusted his camera lens and zoomed in on the SUV right as Crater Face got out and lit a cigarette. What were they standing around waiting for?

  His cell buzzed in the cup holder. Harris. He swiped the screen. “Tell me you’ve got something.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got something. It’s called a warning. What are you getting yourself into?”

  Whatever he had to.

  “Is this why you asked me where to find a tracker? Jeez, O’Riley. Michelli’s not a guy to mess with. Neither are his hired guns. Let the DA’s Office handle it.”

  So, they were Michelli’s thugs. Evan swore away from the phone.

  “I’m telling ya, man. Walk away from this one.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “You won’t do Anna any good if you’re de
ad.”

  Evan massaged his forehead. He didn’t want to argue with his high school buddy about what he could handle. Even though all service men held a given respect for each other, jealousy over his elite training somehow always found a way into these types of conversations.

  He took another swig of the bitter coffee that was supposed to keep his focus off wishing he were with Anna right now.

  “I know the risks, Harris.” Some more than others. “You got a name and address with the plate I gave you, or what?”

  His pause grated on Evan’s already-tense nerves. “Registered to M. J. Industries.”

  Michelli’s front company. Why was Evan not surprised? “And let me guess. The address matches Adele’s Little Italy’s.” He’d already scoped out the restaurant once. It served as a rendezvous point, but they must headquarter somewhere else. He just had to find out where.

  “Like I said, man. Leave it alone.”

  “What about the other plate I gave you?”

  “Stolen.”

  There was a shocker.

  “But I think the guy you’re talking about is Jamie Painter. The kid’s got a list of priors longer than his age.”

  “So, you picked him up?”

  “Not yet.”

  Evan clenched his coffee cup. Were they waiting for a personalized invitation?

  “Two units patrolled the neighborhood you gave us. No sign of him. The guy’s a drifter. Never stays at one address longer than a few weeks.”

  Maybe the punk was smarter than Evan gave him credit for. “Set a squad car at Brookfield Apartments. He’ll be back.”

  “You know we don’t have the resources to run a stakeout on every low-level drug dealer.”

  “The guy’s walking around, waving a gun up in people’s faces.” Evan ran a hand back and forth over the top of his head. “If nothing else, pick him up for illegal possession. I guarantee he lifted that Glock on the streets.”

  “Him and two-thirds of the guys in that area. Look, my department’s swamped on a case right now. When things die down, I’ll see if we can get an informant to wire up for us, all right?”

  “That’s not good en—” Coffee dripped onto his shirt as he scrambled up in his seat. “Let me go, Harris.” He dropped his phone on the center console and stared out the window.