by M. S. Parker
A big body stood in front of me, and I all but crashed into him. Hands came up, gripping my arms.
A dull flush washed over me.
The floor of my belly bottomed out.
The rush of blood roared in my ears.
Tipping my head back, I stared into a pair of eyes I’d thought – had hoped – I’d never see again.
Blue eyes stared back at me, a friendly affable smile set in a round face. His hair was still the same bright orange, a smattering of freckles danced across his nose. Chad Gibbons.
Son of a bitch.
Chad Gibbons was here.
My belly started to pitch and roll as he squeezed my arms lightly. “Excuse me there, sweetheart,” he said, his voice heavy with the sounds of Texas. “You okay?”
I jerked back, edging away from him. I dumped the bras back in the box I’d brought out and carried it to the back of the store where I almost crashed into Pauline.
“Raye, you really are…honey.” The smile faded from her face as she caught sight of me. She took the box away and set it on a nearby table. Then she reached around me and nudged the door to the front part of the boutique shut. “Raye, what’s wrong? You’re white as a ghost.”
She pressed her hand to my cheek, and it felt way too hot against the sudden chill of my skin.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I whispered, lifting my eyes to stare at hers.
She let me go immediately, and I bolted past her, heading to the bathroom.
“Claire’s in there!” Pauline called out urgently.
Claire was one of the few full-time employees, and she was currently spending a fair amount of time in the bathroom. She was just over seven months pregnant, so none of us held it against her.
But just then, I was desperate.
Panicked, I whirled on my heel and headed for the back entrance, bolting in the alley that opened out onto W. 35th. Cold air stung my cheeks as I stood there, shaking and waiting for the nausea to pass.
This wasn’t happening.
He couldn’t be here.
A memory, little more than a vague hint of one really, washed up from the back of my mind. A hand in my hair. I’d worn it long then. It fisted and jerked tight. Voices laughing.
Moaning, I leaned against the wall. A cold wind whipped own the street, and I huddled against the wall with my arms around myself. Had he left?
Why was he here?
Shit, did he live here now?
What was I going to do if he did?
That memory circled around and around in my mind like a whirlpool, and the nausea inside swirled with it.
Pressing a hand to the back of my mouth, I fought off the shivers and tried not to cry.
Why was he here?
Tears pricked my eyes, and I shoved the heels of my hands against my eyes, willing them back.
It was bad enough he’d made me feel so weak in front of my manager, but damned if I’d let him make me cry.
I shoved off the wall, straightening up.
Get it under control, I told myself.
The memory of his blue eyes staring down at me was all it took to buckle my bid for strength, and I swallowed back a small scream of frustration as I dropped my hands, looking around wildly.
I wanted to run away.
But I’d already done that.
I’d left Texas and come to New York City – almost as far as I could get away and still be in the same country.
And he was here.
Panic welled up inside me, and the urge to vomit once more rose, gorge building in my throat.
I sucked in air and took one awkward step, then another forward. Breathe, Raye, I told myself. You gotta breathe.
I blew out the breath, but it didn’t help the nausea any.
Taking another step, another breath, I focused on those simple tasks. Bit by bit, the panic fell back. Bit by bit, the urge to vomit faded.
I’d almost reached the end of the street, so I turned to go back.
And once more, I crashed straight into a big, hard body.
Big hard hands came up to grip my arms.
I panicked and shoved, smacking at the chest of the man who held me. “Let me go!” I said as my throat seemed to close, making it now impossible to really take a deep breath. I yelled at him, although the words came out in more of a whisper this time. “Let me go!”
“Raye!” The sharply-spoken voice was a far cry from the slow, easy drawl I’d expected.
Slowly, I tipped my head back.
It wasn’t Chad.
Swallowing, I found myself staring into a pair of deep, dark eyes.
The strength in my legs faded and I all but wilted.
The hands on my arms tightened, and I found myself being supported by one Kane Jonson.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
To my surprise, a nervous laughed boiled out of me, and I couldn’t silence it.
Thirteen
Kane
After delivering the second car to a client on W. 35th in less than a week, I was starting to think that maybe I needed to start charging for delivery. Not so much because delivering a vehicle was a hassle. But freezing my ass off as I made my way on foot to the nearest subway?
That was a fucking hassle.
The manager of the hotel on W. 35th had tipped me nice, and I could have used the money for a cab, but I drew a hard line about luxuries like that. Of course, plenty of people wouldn’t see a New York City cab ride as a luxury – more like a thrill ride, depending on how far you were going.
But if it was money I didn’t have to spend, then I wasn’t spending it.
I did a mental tally, thinking about the jobs I’d done over the past week. Since it was a holiday week and nearly half of the jobs that had been dumped on me had been deemed rush jobs by their respective owners, I’d been able to charge a little more. I had a fairly decent amount I’d be able to put down toward the money I still owed on the garage.
If I kept having years like the last one and kept living like I had been, maybe in another five to seven years, that garage might be mine, free and clear. Maybe. But I wasn’t banking on it just yet.
I needed to expand and hire more help, but that would cost money.
“Problems for another day, man,” I muttered as a cold wind whipped its way down W. 35th.
I put a little extra speed in my step and reached up to jerk up the collar of my coat to protect my bare neck. I blew into my hands to warm them and wondered if maybe I should invest in another pair of gloves. I was always losing them, but fuck, it was cold.
Somebody came careening around the corner just as I reached it, and I jerked to the side to avoid slamming into them, my hands going up to steady the woman who’d almost barreled into me.
She shrieked and jerked back, her face a pale oval, dominated by big, dark blue eyes.
Raye.
“Stop it,” she said, the words broken and panicked. “Just… let me…” As she spoke, she slapped at my hands and chest, trying to get away from me.
Fear all but bled from her pores and recognition hit me like a punch straight to the solar plexus.
“Raye!”
She stilled at the sound of my voice, her eyes finally coming up to meet my face, and I saw something in her eyes that made red wash over my vision. Terror.
She blinked, focusing on my face. “Kane?” she whispered, the word trembling as it escaped her.
“Yeah.” I tried to smile, not sure if it would help or not. “Were you expecting the boogie man?”
She laughed, but the sound had more of a sob to it, and I wondered if maybe I’d hit the nail on the head.
“Somebody scared you,” I said.
She gave a jerky nod and looked around, her eyes half wild.
“Was somebody following you?” If somebody was, I was going to find them and twist them into a pretzel, like I’d wanted to do with the men from New Year’s night.
“I…” She licked her lips, then said, “No. It was just�
��” She sucked in a breath. “You know what? I don’t want to talk about it.”
I nodded. “Understood.”
She started to shiver, and I shrugged out of my coat, slinging it over her shoulders. Cold air stung my skin like a thousand needles, but I wasn’t the one standing out there in a cute black dress and heels. My jeans, flannel, and thermal shirt had to be warmer than what she was wearing.
“You work around here?” I asked, trying to get her mind off whatever it was she didn’t want to talk about.
“Yes,” she said, her gaze flitting over her shoulder.
I caught sight of a door, but couldn’t read the writing on the neat little sign next to it.
“You should get back inside. It’s freezing out.”
But she shook her head, almost wildly. The spikes of her hair tremored with the movement and what little color that had returned to her cheeks washed away. “No!”
“Okay, okay…” Holding up a hand, I looked around, then gestured to the hotel just across the way. “Come over here then. I know the manager. We can grab a cup of coffee and…” I almost said, wait for whoever to leave, but I wasn’t going to clue her into the fact that I’d figured out that much. “Think that will work? Can you take a few minutes?”
She hesitated and said, “I shouldn’t.” Then she glanced back over her shoulder to the door, almost like she expected her boogie man to come rushing out. “But, yes. A few minutes.”
Tony saw me striding back inside and frowned, but the expression melted away as he caught sight of Raye. Immediately, a warm smile appeared on his round face, and he came from behind the counter where he’d been talking to one of his employees.
“Raye works across the street,” I said before he could ask. “Is there any way we could trouble you for a cup of coffee?”
I didn’t exactly fit in with the clientele, not with my rough clothes and tattoos, but I knew one thing about Tony – he couldn’t resist a damsel in distress. It wasn’t so much that he was a flirt. He was happily married and had been for twenty years. I couldn’t come into this place without him telling me something about his wife and his two daughters.
He just loved women.
I could appreciate that about him.
I loved them myself.
And he saw the same thing about Raye that I had seen – she’d probably hate being thought of a damsel, but she was sure as hell in distress.
He smiled at her warmly, as though they were best friends who were meeting up for the first time in weeks. “Of course. Come with me.”
Tony led us to a small, semi-private area just off the bar, and after he’d left to get coffee, Raye asked, “Can I use your phone please?”
Her voice sounded a little steadier, which I was glad to hear. But she was still so pale.
As I turned over my phone, I wondered who in the hell had scared her so bad.
She sent a quick text off, then returned the phone. “I just wanted the boss to know I’d be right back,” she said, and now, as she looked around, her face flushing with embarrassment, she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I feel so stupid.”
“Why?”
Now she did look at me, for a fleeting moment. “A guy like you wouldn’t understand.”
“I’ve been afraid before,” I said mildly. I was afraid just the other day when I had to go track down my brother. What if I didn’t make it in time? What if he got in the same kind of trouble I did?
My words must have surprised her, because she finally looked right at me and after a moment, she asked, “What makes you think I’m afraid?”
I wasn’t going to tell her that it was written all over her face. Thankfully, I was given a few seconds to think because Tony appeared, carrying a tray of coffee, cream, and sugar. After putting the tray down, he disappeared. My phone buzzed, and after a quick glance revealed a number I didn’t recognize, I turned the phone over to Raye. “Is this your boss?” I asked.
She took the phone and glanced at it, then nodded. “She just wants to make sure I’m okay. I think I scared her.” She tapped back a response, a faint groan escaping her throat. “I’m going to have to think of something to tell her.”
“Take a drink of the coffee and take a deep breath. Whoever you saw is probably gone by now,” I told her.
“What makes you think–”
“Cut the act, Raye,” I said, keeping my voice as gentle as I could. “It’s not hard to recognize when somebody is afraid of something – and you looked terrified. Unless you suddenly developed a fear of lingerie, it only stands to reason that somebody upset you.”
She frowned at me. “Lingerie?”
“I’m in this part of the city a lot. I know what store is on the corner.” I grinned at her, feeling a little sheepish. With a shrug, I added, “I’m a red-blooded male. We tend to notice pretty women in lingerie.”
Her face went red once more, and she looked away. “Okay. Yeah, I…there was somebody I knew, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Like I said, understood.” I thought about the way she’d panicked on the street when I had my hands on her arms, slapping at me as she fought to break away. “You ever taken any sort of self-defense class or anything?”
She paused, the cup of coffee at her pretty pink mouth. I really did like that mouth. And I really shouldn’t be staring at it. She lowered the cup back to the table. “What?”
“Self-defense,” I said again. “Ever taken any classes?”
“Like karate?” She scoffed and picked her coffee back up, taking a sip. “No.”
“It doesn’t have to be karate. Just some basic techniques to use in case you were ever cornered.”
I already knew the answer to the question, though, and I was determined to change that.
With what looked to be great reluctance, she shook her head. “No.”
“You should.” Leaning back in the chair, I studied her slight frame, then met her eyes again. “If you know how to get out of a tight spot, you’re less likely to panic if you ever get trapped in one. The first step is to not panic. But it’s hard not to panic if you don’t know how to get out of such a spot.”
“I’m five foot nothing,” she retorted. “What am I supposed to do if I get cornered by a guy your size?”
“Punch me in the throat,” I offered. “Or the balls. But the throat would be better because a lot of guys are expecting a knee to the ‘nads. Have your keys out when you’re walking and keep one between your fingers. Punch somebody in the eye with that thing and they ain’t going to be coming after you any time soon – they’ll be looking for the remains of their eyeball. It’s all about getting in the crucial shot to give you time to get away. But it takes practice.”
Speculation entered her eyes. A few seconds passed before she nodded. “I’ll look into it.”
“Do better.” Grabbing one of the napkins, I pulled a pen from the pocket of my flannel. “Here’s my address. You can come by anytime after six, and I can work with you. I’m free, too.”
She took the napkin, crumbling it up in her fist. “I’ll think about it,” she said again, shrugging out of the coat I’d given her. “I need to get back to work.”
She left me sitting there, but I got up and followed her, watching from the windowed lobby of the hotel to make sure she made it to the door of her work without being disturbed.
I sure as hell hoped she came by and took me up on my offer. Not just because I wanted to see her. As cute as she was, as attracted as I was, the two of us just wouldn’t ever work. I probably scared the hell out of her.
But I didn’t like seeing that fear in her eyes.
It pissed me off.
“Is she okay?” Tony asked, joining me at the window.
“For now.” I hitched up a shoulder in a shrug as the door swung shut behind her. “Thanks for letting us have a minute. She needed it.”
“Do you have any idea what scared her so badly?” Tony asked as I shrugged back into my coat.
I drew in a breath, acute
ly aware of the new scent that now faintly clung to it. “Only that it was a guy,” I replied. “She didn’t want to talk about it.”
The two of us eyed each other, and I suspected he was thinking the same thing I was. Judging by the look in his eyes, he felt as much disgust as I did. I turned away because I didn’t want him to pick up on what else I was feeling.
An all-consuming rage.
Somebody, at some point, had hurt Raye.
Fourteen
Raye
“You are not actually considering going over there,” I muttered to myself as I picked up a bucket of ribs.
Of course, the comment was moot, because the restaurant I’d decided to grab some food at was several blocks out of the way when compared to my place. But it was just down the street from the address Kane had given me.
As I checked the bag to make sure plastic ware and the sides hadn’t been forgotten, I tried once more to have a rational conversation – with myself – about what I was doing.
I was going over to a total stranger’s place because he’d offered to show me some self-defense moves.
The self-defense moves weren’t a bad idea, and in retrospect, maybe it was something I should have done a long time ago.
But going over to a total stranger’s place to learn them?
Was that a good idea?
He’s Jake’s friend, one half of me argued. That automatically gives him points.
The logical part of me pointed out, you barely know Jake. So why does that count for anything?
Okay, so I didn’t really know my brother. I barely knew Michelle. But I was a decent judge of character, and I sensed both were good people, the kind of people you could trust. And they weren’t the kind of people who’d be friends with sleazebags.
That automatically made Kane okay, by that rule.
But what if they didn’t really know Kane?
I’d been going back and forth this way for nearly twenty minutes, ever since I’d left my apartment to get some food. It was almost six-thirty when I started down the block – away from the subway entrance.
