by Mia Carson
“You don’t look fine. You’re pale all of a sudden. Are you feeling all right?”
She slept with that guy a week after she left you. A week!
“I’m fine, really. So you said about five months ago?” He jotted down the quick note, but the image of Johnny with Anna, having her as he never had the chance to, bit at him. A painful spike of jealousy shot through his chest, and he drank half his beer in one swallow to take the edge off.
“Yeah. It was a mistake really. I was drunk and so was he,” she explained stiffly. “We…uh, we went back to normal after that, or at least I did, but he kept trying to find another way to woo me back to him.”
“I could have told him that wouldn’t work,” Harold grunted.
“What was that?” she snapped.
“Nothing at all. Please, continue.”
Her arms crossed over her chest and she squared her shoulders. “You didn’t try to get me back.”
“I meant I knew it would never work,” he corrected.
“Really, and you would know this how? It’s not like you tried,” she jeered. “I walked out of your life and you never once tried to figure out why or come after me.”
The words to set her straight were on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them. He had come to the bar that night to beg her to come back, to be with him, but he was too much of a coward—a jealous, angry, confused coward—to go all the way into that bar and talk to her.
“Can we get back to the case?” He jotted down a few more quick notes to check into Johnny’s past and see if there were any other complaints from tenants or women he dated.
“Fine, if all you want is this to be is a job, then that’s what it’ll be.”
“Fine,” he repeated.
She scratched her forehead, evidently annoyed. “About two weeks ago, he started dropping more hints that he wanted us to have another night like we had before. A relationship with benefits, so to speak,” she said with a disgusted curl of her lip. “And he also kept talking about being a partner with me in the ownership of this bar to help with the financial burden.”
“And you said no?” he asked.
“I’m not an idiot. Of course I did. I’m not going to run this bar with a man like him. A few days after, he came to me and said he raised the rent on my apartment and the bar.” The anger slipped away, and in its place was a weariness Harold failed to notice earlier. There were bags under her eyes and stress lines around her eyes he remembered she would get when money was tight. “He swore he’d told me about it before, but he never did and there was no written notice.”
“What happened next?”
“I told him I would start paying the new rent this coming month, but he said he needed the rest of the money. I’ve tried to get it, but if I pay him, I can’t order what I need for the bar, which means I can’t make money.” She held her head in her hands. “Bastard. He had me trapped.”
“And is that what led to the public fight in the bar?”
She cringed as she lifted her face. “You saw that video, too, huh?”
“Not one of your finer moments, I’ll admit, especially since you’re seen wielding the bat you allegedly beat him with,” Harold pointed out. “We can work with it, though. It’s quite clear from the argument that he’s pushing you for more than money.”
He’d watched the video once, but he would have to see it again to really tear it apart. Johnny stated a few times in there about her taking care of the matter in the way they discussed. Now that Harold understood the advances he’d made towards Anna, her blow up made more sense. A jury might realize the same when he had a chance to present both sides of the story to them.
“After that, I told him not to come back to the bar. He’d get his money.”
“And now we’re at the night of the attack. Walk me through what you did.”
She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, planting her palms flat on the table. “I don’t drink when I work, you know that. I picked up a bottle of tequila to take upstairs and noticed when I was cleaning that my bat was missing.”
“From the bar?” he asked. “Who else knows it’s there?”
“Missy, Pat, me, and Daryl, my new cook. No one else should, though…at least, they’re not supposed to,” she added.
“After you took the bottle, you went upstairs?”
She nodded. “I took the back stairs like I always do. I had my keys to my front door in my hand, but I didn’t go inside. The bat was leaning against the wall by my door.”
“And you didn’t take it upstairs?” he asked, confused, knowing already that bat never left the bar. She told him that herself.
“No. I picked it up to take it inside when I heard yelling from down the hall. I took the bat with me and followed the yelling to Johnny’s apartment. I called his name,” she said deliberately. “I remember doing that. Something crashed inside. I tried the door and it was open, but the lights were off. I reached for my phone to call the cops when someone whacked me over the head and everything went dark. The next thing I know, I’m in handcuffs and he’s feeding the cops some shit story about how I beat his ass with a bat. It’s fake. Everything he said is a fucking lie.” She slapped her palms on the table and winced.
Harold read back through his notes. He would need to know more, of course, about her situation with Johnny and about the man himself, but it was a good start. “The only evidence the cops have are witnesses who state the bat belongs to you and they all saw the fight two nights before,” he explained. “And, of course, Johnny’s statement that you broke into his place and beat him up.”
“Why would he do this to me?” she whispered, and Harold wondered if the question was meant for him to answer. “What is he hoping to get?”
Harold flipped over his pages of notes and slid them aside. “He could be trying to get money from you for his injuries, essentially sue you for enough to put you out of business. Has he ever shown interest in owning the bar instead of only being your partner?”
“No—hell no, and I’m not giving it up,” she sputtered.
“Depending on how this case goes, you might not have a choice,” he told her, trying to be as realistic as possible. “If there’s a chance of keeping you out of jail, you’ll have to move out of this building and close down The Crawler.”
“And go where?” she snapped. “With what money? This bar is all I have and you know that.”
“You would rather go to jail?”
“I would rather not lose the only connection I have to my parents and my past,” she shot back. “He will not take this place from me. He won’t take anything from me.”
Harold pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I can’t guarantee anything. If he offers you a deal, it might be in your best interest to take it and not go to court.”
“What if we can prove that he’s lying?”
“And how do you plan on doing that?” he asked.
She fumbled for words and sagged in her seat. “I don’t know, but I’m not giving up.”
“I didn’t say I was either. We’re only getting started, Anna. Give me time to get a handle on this situation and see what I can find out,” he reassured her. “If I can find a way to prove he set you up, I’ll find it. Don’t you trust me?”
Her eyes darkened and she stood abruptly from the table. “As a matter of fact, I’m not sure that I do. Do you need anything else from me?”
His hand that had moved across the table to place on her arm fell to the table top. “No, no, we’re done for today. Just remember you can’t leave the city and stay away from Johnny. I’ll be in touch.”
“You need my number?”
“No, I still have it,” he replied, noting the surprise on her face. He packed up his briefcase, picked up his jacket, and slid out from the booth. “I’m sure you won’t believe me, but it’s been good seeing you.”
“Sure it was. Too bad you had to wait until I was thrown in jail.”
Tell her, you idiot! Tell her you
came here that night! He hesitated, wondering what she would do if he did admit he came here. She’ll call you a moron for not actually stepping inside the bar. You came here and you did nothing to try and get her back.
“Right. I’ll talk to you soon,” he mumbled, and ducking his head, he hurried out of the bar, sensing her eyes on his back as he reached his car and sank into the seat. Angrily, he chucked his briefcase and jacket into the backseat. His hands gripped the steering wheel and he considered his next move. Logically, he needed to speak with Johnny and figure out who this man was, but after hearing how he treated Anna—his Anna—he was far from being in a sound enough mind not to go after the man and make him really hurt.
Chapter 4
Anna sat at the bar the rest of the day, watching the world pass by and wondering how the hell she’d landed in this situation. Missy and Pat refused to let her work, and she didn’t want to be upstairs alone in her apartment, not so close to Johnny’s place. Tuesday, she spent her time on the same bar stool watching the world go by outside the windows and missing her parents more than normal. Her dad, Winston, would know what to do. He was the smartest person she’d known. He loved puzzles, and Anna had inherited that trait.
Growing up, he was constantly setting up scavenger hunts for her to solve, puzzles that would take her all over the city and lead her back to the bar, or their apartment, or another spot they liked to frequent. A little girl’s giggling voice echoed in her ears from long ago, joined by a man’s deep belly laugh she missed every day.
“You really think he’s after the bar?” Missy asked as she wiped down glasses and pulled Anna from her painful reminiscing.
“He never seemed interested in it before, but lately, we’ve been making a pretty penny.”
“Because you’ve been running it. If he takes it away from you, it’ll fail. He should know that.”
“I think it’s because he wants something else that he’s never going to get,” Anna seethed, shooting back another shot of tequila. She spun around on her barstool, tilting her head to the side as she picked at her nails. “What do you think about Harold?”
Missy sighed behind her. “Don’t do it.”
“I haven’t done anything,” Anna argued.
“No, but I can hear it in your voice. You left him because he tried to change you, remember? You really think if you wind up with him again, he won’t keep pushing until he pushes you into hating him?”
Anna considered arguing that it might not be the same, but the proof was right in front of her today. Her feelings for Harold might be alive and well, but putting herself in that vulnerable state to be hurt again when her heart had yet to mend was asking for a disaster. She didn’t want him back anyway.
“You’re doing it again,” Missy warned her. “You’ve got that look in your eyes.”
“I’m not going back to him,” she said, spinning back around.
“Your mouth says one thing and your face says something completely different.” Anna pursed her lips at Missy and held up her empty shot glass. “You sure? It’s barely past noon.”
“Yes, I’m sure, since you and Pat won’t let me work. Just one more and you can cut me off for the day so I don’t do anything I’ll regret.”
Missy mumbled under her breath as she reached for the tequila bottle. “Did you get a chance to look at Johnny’s face? After it was beaten up and all?” she asked as she poured the clear liquid in the shot glass.
“Briefly,” Anna grated. “Why?”
“The way those wounds look…I don’t know, maybe it’s nothing.”
“Missy, my bar and my freedom for at least five to ten years is on the line,” she said sharply. “Whatever is on your mind, tell me, please.”
She tucked the bottle away, her lips screwing up to the side as she whispered, “You remember a few months ago, Johnny had that friend hanging around, the one he said was a UFC fighter? Said that he was training Johnny, giving him some moves and what not?”
“The same friend that hit on us both constantly?” she said slowly. “Yeah, I remember. Why?”
“He lives in the city, right?”
“I think so, not that I would really know. I haven’t seen him around.”
Missy shrugged. “Johnny took a hefty beating a few times, and those bruises on his face when he came in here Sunday to gloat about you being arrested for losing your temper…they reminded me a lot of those days when they were fighting each other.”
“Shit, you’re right,” Anna murmured.
For weeks, Johnny would show up in her bar with his face bruised and swollen, a few black eyes, and a broken nose at least once. His dream back then had been to follow his friend into fighting and make a name for himself, but he’d barely lasted a few months. He gave up and turned his sights elsewhere.
To Anna, to be specific, and her bar. He commented constantly about how successful it was and dropped hints about some sort of partnership. Since he was the landlord, it would be beneficial to her and to the bar, but she was not about to turn over any part of it to him. She was a few years away from being able to buy the bottom floor from Johnny. His uncle had told her dad that years ago, and she had the written agreement tucked safely away in the safe in her apartment. Once she had enough money, she would own the bar flat out, and Johnny would no longer be a problem, except for her apartment rent.
“Anna?”
“Yeah, I remember the guy’s face, but I can’t think of his name. What was it?”
“Josh? No, Jimmy?”
“Do you really think Johnny would go so far as to have his friend beat him up to pin it on me?”
“Well, he knew about the contract between your dad and his uncle, right?”
Anna nodded. “He was there when they drew up the papers and signed with his uncle, just as I signed with Dad.”
“And there’s no way out of the contract, I bet, unless something happens to you,” Missy pointed out. “I guess some people are just assholes. I’m telling you, Anna, find that friend of his. Concord’s not that big a city.”
“I’ll let Harold know when I talk to him again.”
“Harold Jenson III,” Missy said, mocking his name. “He better get your ass out of this, or he’s going to have to deal with me.”
“He’s never lost a case, last I heard,” Anna said, spinning around her final shot for the day. “Let’s hope he doesn’t start with mine, if it ever gets to court.” The liquor gurgled uncomfortably in her gut as reality settled on her shoulders. “He can’t get away with this, right? I don’t want to go to jail.”
Missy rested her hand on Anna’s. “You’re not going to jail. You’re innocent, we all know that.”
“The cops didn’t say anything about the security feed from the hall, did they?”
Missy and Pat told her that morning the cops came by Saturday to ask about the security in the building and about Anna. They said they found the feed for the hallway outside her and Johnny’s apartment, but the video was fuzzy and they could hardly make anything out on it. Convenient that it messed up the night Johnny was attacked when all the other times she saw it, the feed worked perfectly. It was tied into the same feed for the bar, but she was able to personally monitor that feed while Johnny was the only one who had the feeds to the rest of the building.
“Like I told you, they said there was nothing they could go on. I asked them about the bar feed, but they said they didn’t need it if it didn’t show you down here at the time of the attack.” She patted Anna’s hand again. “We’re here for you, no matter what happens.”
“And if I lose the bar? What happens then?” Nervously, she played with the skull necklace she’d put around her neck again. Just because she would be seeing him didn’t mean she couldn’t wear it. The necklace suited her, and her latest habit when the stress built was to play with the little charm given to her by a man she honestly thought she loved.
“You keep your ass positive, you hear me? You will not lose this bar. Harold knows how much it me
ans to you, right?”
Anna believed he did, but she sensed if it came down to her bar and or keeping her out of jail, Harold would convince her to give up the bar in a heartbeat, if only to keep his record intact. She threw back her last shot of tequila as her phone buzzed in her pocket. She wanted to say she no longer had Harold’s number saved in her phone, but that was a lie. His name appeared along with a message.
“Who’s that?” Missy asked.
“Harold. I’m needed at his office so I can fill out some paperwork on me using his services,” she grumbled. “Call me a cab, would you?”
“Sure thing, hon.” Missy picked up the bar phone and called a cab.
Anna remembered Harold’s office, the stuffy room in the corner of the prestigious offices in downtown Concord, one of the oldest buildings in the state. His family had been lawyers since they arrived in the city when it was first founded, and they enjoyed reminding everyone in the state of the Jenson family legacy. His mother especially. She dropped several hints each time she found herself around Anna and Harold that she may not be cut out for their world. She wore jeans and tank tops and owned a bar, whereas her son was a lawyer, one of the best on the east coast, and clearly in need of a woman to match his standing.
Anna would never be that woman, and she was certainly not going to try.
“Cab will be here in twenty,” Missy told her. “You want me to tag along? Pat can cover the afternoon shift.”
“Nah, I’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen?”
***
Harold received Anna’s message saying she would be there within a half hour. He set his phone down and strode anxiously around his office, loosening his already loosened tie again and finally hung his fingers on the front pockets of his vest to keep them from twitching so damn much. He did, in fact, need her to come in so they could fill out all official paperwork, but he would be lying to himself it he didn’t admit he wanted her there to see her again and correct how they left their conversation yesterday.
All last night, he ran over his admission in his mind and how to tell her he had gone after her. He reached the far end of his office, pivoted, and stalked back the other direction.
