Dead Man District

by Julie Miller

  Finally. Another pickup was pulling out of a parking space across the street about half a block up from the diner. About damn time. “How many mean customers are there?”

  “Two.”

  Gross beard? “There’s the guy with the beard. What does the other man look like?”

  “He has red hair and more freckles than I do.”

  Those jackasses from the bus. He remembered their names—Harve and Jordy. It took a lot to trigger Matt’s temper. But with Maldonado’s death, one too many arson fires, the possibility of Corie’s ex working with Chad Meade and some stupid, drunk hicks hitting on Corie and breaking Evan’s dragon, there just wasn’t enough calm left in him to control his rage. “Did either of those men touch her?”

  “Um...” Hell. They had. They’d put their hands on her.

  Matt slammed on his brakes and angled his truck across the lane of traffic, staking claim to the parking space the moment the young couple climbing in left. “Is she okay? Are you?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Do you dragon swear?”

  He could almost hear the energy flowing into Evan’s tone, and the confidence puffing up his chest. “Yes. I’m okay. Mom said to call you to see when you were coming before she called the police. When are you coming?”

  “I’m parking my truck now.”

  “The red-haired guy asked Mom if her boyfriend was going to save her this time.” The sound of fear in Evan’s voice eased a little as curiosity kicked in. “What does that mean? Are you her boyfriend?”

  “Damn straight I am.” Matt whipped into the parking space. “Hang up the phone and tell your mom I’m coming.”

  “Mo-om!”

  Then there was no more call. Matt grabbed his cell off the dash, pocketed his keys, put a hand up to stop the car bearing down on him and jogged across the street. Thanks to the diner’s booth-to-ceiling windows, Matt had a clear view of what was happening before he ever reached the front door at the corner.

  Harve and Jordy were easy to spot at their table in the middle of the restaurant with their mountain-man hygiene and penchant for making a scene. Neither one could be mistaken for the man in the mugshot of Kenny Norwell.

  That didn’t make the scene any easier to dismiss. Matt saw a wingless plastic dragon and brightly colored blocks scattered across the table and plate in front of Harve. Despite Evan’s red-rimmed eyes, he sassed something to the bearded man and grabbed his dragon. When Harve shoved Evan away from the table, Corie dropped her empty tray and scooted Evan behind her, lambasting the bearded man. Matt lengthened his stride when he hit the sidewalk in front of Pearl’s, running the last few yards.

  A pregnant woman in a business suit stood at the front register, on her cell, reporting everything she was seeing, hopefully on the phone to 9-1-1. One older gentleman stood up at his table in the booth opposite Harve and Jordy and the McGuires, pointing a finger at the two men and rebuking them. That earned him Jordy jumping up and shouting “Boo” or some other startling word that sent him tumbling back into his seat beside a white-haired woman. The rest of the customers watched the scene with wide-eyed shock or buried their gazes in their menus and plates, trying desperately not to get involved.

  Involved was the call of every Taylor. Step up when someone needs help. Matt might not be a Taylor by blood. But he was a Taylor down to his very bones.

  He swung the door open.

  “It’s one thing to get handsy with the waitstaff or harass a nice gentleman like Mr. Wallace,” he heard Corie chide. “But you touch my son...”

  The tinkling bell that jingled overhead sounded inordinately loud and somehow menacing in the sudden silence from every table. Matt made no effort to hunch his shoulders or tone down his anger. He knew how to make his presence known. Big dude at the front door. Black stocking cap, black jeans, black coat. Spooky quiet. Barely breathing hard despite a run through the cold night air. Dark eyes lasered in on the freckled hand clamped around Corie’s forearm. Long, purposeful strides took him right up to the table where Harve Gross Beard and Jordy Freckle Face were harassing Corie and Evan.

  “Well, if it ain’t the boyfriend.” Jordy announced Matt’s arrival like a rehearsed line. “The boy said you’d show up tonight.” But he glanced nervously across the table at Harve, unsure how to proceed.

  Matt could help with that. “Let her go.”

  Although the younger man’s grip instantly popped open, Harve chuckled, urging his friend not to panic. “This is all a misunderstanding. The waitress just brought us our pie. We’re gonna sit and enjoy dessert.”

  “No.” Simple. Succinct.

  Harve fisted his hands against his thighs and Jordy shifted to the edge of his seat. Both were dead giveaways to the two men’s intentions.

  Matt Taylor had a brother who was a highly trained SWAT cop. Another was a street patrolman who handled a K-9 partner. Hell, he’d grown up with three brothers. He knew what to do in a fight.

  Not that this would be much of one.

  When Harve shoved his chair back from the table, Matt toed the edge of the hard plastic tray on the floor, tipped it up into his hand and whacked the bearded man across the face, knocking him back onto his seat. Without wasting any movement, he jerked Harve’s coat down his arms, twisting the sleeves and cinching them together behind the back of his chair. Jordy jumped to his feet and cocked his arm back to take a swing at Matt.

  He heard Corie’s shriek of a warning, raised his arm to deflect the blow and twisted to plant his fist in the middle of the red-haired man’s solar plexus, stunning him. Before Jordy could catch his breath or yell uncle, Matt had pinned his arm behind his back and shoved his face down into his roast beef sandwich. When Harve tried to wriggle his chair back to kick out at him, Matt stomped his big boot down on his foot. The man yelped in pain and shouted for someone to call the cops, that he and his buddy were being assaulted by some bigfoot wild man. Matt was peripherally aware of a few customers snapping pictures of the altercation with their phones, but no one was calling anybody to help these two.

  While Harve moaned in pain, Matt leaned over the man he had pinned to the table. “You two need to pick on somebody your own size. Not a little boy.”

  “We were just havin’ some fun,” Jordy argued. “He knows we were playin’.” He turned toward Evan. “Right, kid?”

  Corie hugged Evan closer to her side as the brave little man answered. “You’re a bully! Bullies get sent to the office.”

  Matt twisted Jordy’s arm a little harder, his eyes telling Harve he would do the same to him if he tried anything else. “Return everything you took from this boy. Now.” With a nod to Corie, she loosened Harve’s coat sleeves so he could free his hands before she backed away to hug Evan to her side again. Harve emptied his shirt pocket and dumped the plastic bricks on the tabletop. “All of them,” Matt ordered.

  Muttering a curse under his breath, Mr. Gross Beard dipped his fingers into the mashed potatoes on his plate and dug out three more pieces. When Matt raised an eyebrow, he dropped the pieces into his glass of water and swished them around to get most of the food off them. Then he fished them out with his spoon and put all of them in a napkin he handed to Corie. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  Corie took the napkin and guided Evan back to the last booth where the body of his dragon now sat. She settled her son into his seat and urged him to start rebuilding his toy.

  “Mister,” Jordy whined. “You gotta let me up. You’re killin’ me here.”

  No. He’d seen killing today. This was just a friendly conversation among three men who were about to reach an understanding. “Are you going to touch this woman again?”

  “C’mon. She’s pretty. I just wanted her attention. She smiled at everybody but us—” Matt applied the slightest of pressure to his wrist. “No. No, sir.”

  “Are you going to harass her or anyone else in this restaurant?”r />
  There were no excuses this time. “No, sir.”

  Matt released his grip and stepped back, making sure Corie and Evan were behind him, and there was a clear aisle to the front door. “Get out.”

  Jordy eagerly grabbed his coat and booked it to the front door. Harve was slower to rise to his feet and adjust his jacket onto his shoulders with a firm snap of the material. His eye contact seemed to say that this conversation wasn’t over. “You don’t know who you’re messin’ with, Boyfriend.”

  Matt didn’t take kindly to a threat like that. “Neither do you.”

  Eventually, Harve, too, backed away from Matt and headed for the door.

  The entire diner seemed to be holding its collective breath as the bearded man stopped at the hostess stand and pulled out a wad of cash in his money clip.

  “I don’t want your money.” The dark-haired woman cradled one hand protectively over her swollen belly and held her cell phone up and snapped a picture. “You two aren’t welcome here anymore. If you come in again, I’ll call one of my close connections at KCPD—like my husband.” She put the phone back to her ear. “I’m texting you the second man’s picture now, hon. Uh-huh.” She held out the phone again. “Detective Kincaid would like to speak to you.”

  “Harve, come on.” Jordy waited in the open door, letting the cold air rush in and chill the air. “One of them dates Bigfoot? And the other’s married to a cop? I don’t care how good the money is, we’re out of our league—”

  “Shut up.”

  “I know you said we owe—”

  “Move!” Harve shoved Jordy outside. The bell above the door dinged as the door finally closed behind them.

  How good the money is? Was somebody paying those two to harass Corie?

  He had a sick idea of who that might be.

  Before they reached the curb, Harve was on his phone texting someone. Matt stood at the window and watched, waiting for them to leave, not just the diner, but the whole neighborhood. After Harve put away his phone, he glanced back at Matt and offered him a mocking salute. Then the light changed, and Jordy pulled his seething partner along with the group of people crossing the street. A dark muscle car with tinted windows screeched to a stop at the far curb and the two men climbed inside. Harve must have texted for the ride to pick them up. But that was no car service to arrive this fast. That had to be a buddy of theirs, waiting close by. Maybe close enough to have watched the confrontation through the diner windows.

  Matt glanced down at the license plate and committed it to memory. But he made no effort to call it in until he was certain that the yahoo twins and their unseen chauffeur had driven away. Then he quickly texted the plate number to Cole and asked him to ID the vehicle owner and possibly find out Harve and Jordan’s last names.

  Finally exhaling a sigh of relief that the incident was over, Matt exchanged a nod with the woman at the hostess stand, now fully engaged in a conversation with her husband, who was no doubt feeling just as worried and far away from where he needed to be as Matt had felt a few minutes earlier. Only then did he turn to Corie. “Are you two...?” Corie launched herself at Matt, throwing her arms around him while Evan latched onto his waist in between them. Funny how much better he felt now, too. “Okay.”

  The elderly gentleman who’d tried to help led the applause. Matt wound one arm around Corie and kissed the crown of her hair, inhaling the homey, enticing scent of baked goods, hard work and fruity shampoo that was hers alone. He palmed the back of Evan’s head and held them both close, strengthened by the needy, welcoming grasp of their hands, loving the sense of completeness he felt at holding mother and son in his arms.

  After introducing himself and making sure the older gentleman was okay, Matt thanked him for attempting to intervene. Mr. Wallace sat down, and he and the other patrons returned to their meals and conversations. Corie fisted a hand in Matt’s coat and stretched up on tiptoe to press a kiss to the edge of Matt’s jaw. “Thank you. I know I keep saying that but, thank you.”

  Every nerve ending in Matt’s body zinged to the imprint where her soft lips had grazed his skin. The adrenaline that had spurred him into the diner was pulsing erratically through his system now, his hyperalertness to all things McGuire now warring with the bone-deep weariness from the day. He needed to keep it together for a while longer, trade some information, ensure they were safe—or there’d be no rest sufficient to help him recover from losing them. “Did they hurt you or Evan?”

  “No.”

  He tipped Evan’s head up to his and winked. “You dragon swear you’re okay?” Evan grinned at Matt’s understanding of the boy’s highest code of honor. Evan crossed his finger over his heart and nodded before running back to his booth like the happy child he should be to start building again.

  With Evan gone, Corie moved her arms to Matt’s waist and snuggled closer. “I dragon swear, too,” she teased. “But I’m not too proud to admit that I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my whole life. I knew when those two walked in and asked to be seated in my section that there was going to be trouble.” With an angry huff, she pulled away, but only to move to his side and hug herself around his arm, turning toward the last booth by the windows where Evan was playing. “What kind of man gets rough with a child like that? Steals from him like it’s some kind of joke?”

  “No kind of man.” Matt leaned over and kissed the crown of her hair. “I figured Evan would be safe with you here. But I was scared at how far you might go to protect him.”

  She shook her head. “I got another waitress to cover the table for me, thinking if I wasn’t there to entertain them, they’d eat fast and leave. But when they approached Evan, I had to step in.” She rubbed her cheek against Matt’s coat sleeve. “Of course, I know they only did it to get me to react. But it was nice to know I had backup before I charged in to do battle.”

  He covered both her hands with his. “I will always be here if you need me. I’m glad you called.”

  The pregnant boss lady had circled around the middle tables and met them near the back booth. She extended her hand to Matt. “I’m Melissa Kincaid. I run Pearl’s Diner. Your meal is on the house.”

  “Matt Taylor. I appreciate you calling the police.” Although he shook her hand, he shrugged off her offer. “I just want coffee and a slice of pie.”

  “Still on the house.” She held up her phone before tucking into the pocket of her jacket. “And don’t worry about Corie’s safety when she’s here. After the story I just told my husband, Sawyer, I imagine half of KCPD will be eating their meals here the rest of the weekend. Those two won’t be bothering any of us again.”

  Corie released Matt’s arm to exchange a hug with the dark-haired woman. “Thanks, Melissa.”

  “Thank your boyfriend here. By the way, my husband wants to meet you.” Melissa smiled at Matt before nodding toward the booth beside her where Evan had spread out his toys, drawings and plastic building bricks. “Corie, take ten. I’ll get your orders out for you.”

  Corie slid into the vinyl seat beside Evan while Matt pulled off his stocking cap and unzipped his coat. Although Corie spared a few moments to ruffle Evan’s hair and inquire about the state of repairs on his dragon, when Matt settled onto the seat across from them, he felt her feet sliding between his under the table. He might have thought it was an accident until a few seconds later when her fingertips brushed against his knee. Although some surprisingly naughty thoughts leaped to mind at what they could be doing under the table, Matt chilled his brain and captured her hand in his, linking them together away from prying eyes.

  “Sorry about the boyfriend thing,” she apologized, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth in a frown. “Evan shouted it out to the restaurant as a warning to Harve and Jordy. I’m afraid the appellation stuck.”

  Man, how he wanted to kiss that bottom lip, ease her discomfort, ease his own. “I’m okay with that.”
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  That sweet mouth blossomed into a smile. “I am, too.”

  Not for the first time, Matt noted how much he enjoyed holding this woman. How much he loved watching the nuances of her expression. How much he looked forward to hushed, intimate conversations like this one.

  Sure, he’d spent part of the last few nights fantasizing about what it would be like to have Corie in his bed. As much as she seemed to like touching him, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine undressing those decadent curves and tasting those soft lips and lying with her skin to skin, burying himself inside her, bringing them as close as two people could physically be. Although he knew her to be cautious, he also knew the woman who tugged him down for an impulsive kiss, who reached for him when he was being too careful for her, who stroked his lips and caressed his face and hugged herself around him in a way that was slightly possessive and made her smile that sexy, heart-robbing smile.

  Yeah, even now, his body was aching to be closer to hers. But there was something just as soothing, just as satisfying about sharing a connection as simple as holding hands with Corie. With Evan babbling on with a play-by-play of how every brick fit together to rebuild his dragon, another waitress taking their order for coffees and cherry pie, his own thoughts racing as he tried to make sense of everything he was learning about the potential threat surrounding this family, holding hands with Corie under the table felt like a lot more. It was a secret bond for just the two of them to share.

  It felt like something deeper, something stronger. Something permanent.

  Matt was losing himself in the gentle green of Corie’s eyes when his phone dinged with a text. Not wanting to release her hand, he set his phone on the tabletop and pulled up the message as soon as he saw it was from Cole.

  Car registered to a Jeff Caldwell.

  No record. Get this. His address is the same building as yours. You don’t know him?

  Matt frowned. He knew several of the people in his building. But he worked long hours. Kept to himself unless he had a family event. Or he was worried about Corie and Evan. The only Jeff he could think of was Wally Stinson’s part-time super. And that was just a name to him. He’d never actually met the guy.