Tall Dark Defender Page 2

  Her boss handed her a scrap of paper and hitched his head toward the front door. “That’s the address and the name of the guy you give the package to. Only to him. No one else. Got it? Now, go on. I’ll close up.”

  After fishing her purse out from under the counter, Annie tucked the package against her chest with a sigh.

  Jonah watched her leave the diner and walk past the parking lot without stopping. He frowned. She didn’t have a car? Walking Fourth Street alone at night could be suicide.

  Without giving it a second thought, Jonah fell in step behind Annie. Peter Hardin might not care about his waitress’s safety, but Jonah wasn’t about to let Annie make that delivery unprotected.

  Annie’s footsteps reverberated in the dark shadows looming around her. Alone on the downtown street, she clutched the manila envelope to her chest like a shield.

  She shouldn’t be here. This part of town was dangerous, especially at this late hour. But how could she refuse her boss’s order? She couldn’t afford to lose her job. She only had a few more minutes left to make Hardin’s delivery, and he had been emphatic about the deadline—and the dire consequences if anything happened to the mysterious contents.

  Just make the drop and get out of there. Get home. Get safe.

  The sound of her shallow breathing rasped a harsh cadence in the quiet March night, and her heartbeat drummed in her ears like a death knell. She slowed her frantic pace, closing her eyes long enough to gather her composure.

  Keep your wits and don’t blow this.

  The drop-off address had to be close. She searched for numbers on the buildings, but the dilapidated storefronts and graffiti-decorated buildings bore no identification.

  She gritted her teeth. Damn Peter Hardin for forcing her to do this dangerous errand! If she didn’t need her job so much, she’d have told him where to stick his order to do his dirty work. She sighed in disgust, wishing she’d stood up to Hardin.

  But she’d always been a pushover. Her ex-husband had known it and taken advantage of that truth.

  Squaring her shoulders, Annie kept walking, realizing how this decrepit neighborhood was a reflection of her life. Lonely, scarred and struggling to survive.

  She’d had the typical fairy-tale dreams for herself as a girl—love and marriage, happily ever after. Instead she’d found a nightmare—fear and abuse, divorce from a man now serving time for a laundry list of crimes. After six years of unhappiness, at least she was free of Walt. Her job as a waitress at Pop’s Diner barely covered her bills, but her children were safe now. She was safe. That was all that truly mattered.

  Yet as she searched for some evidence of where to take the package, she felt anything but safe. A prick of alarm nipped her neck. Though she heard nothing, saw no one, the uneasy sense that someone was following her crawled over her like a cockroach on her skin. She shuddered.

  Annie drew a deep breath for courage, her nose filling with the stench of sewage, mildew and despair.

  A scuffing noise filtered through the night from an alley just ahead of her. Her steps faltered. Her pulse jumped.

  “H-hello?” she called, her voice cracking.

  A hulking figure emerged from the black void. The man descended on her before a scream could form in her throat. He wrapped arms of steel around her, and a fleshy palm covered her nose and mouth. Lifting her as if she weighed nothing, her attacker pulled her into the dark alley and slammed her against a brick wall.

  The collision knocked the air from her lungs. Shock and fear froze her limbs.

  No! her brain screamed. Not again! Slow-motion images of her past flickered before her mind’s eye.

  “You call this slop dinner?” Walt’s hand cracked against her chin in an upward arc.

  Her assailant seized the manila envelope she’d sworn on her life she’d deliver only to Joseph Nance.

  Panic surged inside her. Her fingers curled into the package, clinging to it for all she was worth. “No!”

  “Give me the money, bitch!” he growled. His fist crashed into her mouth, and a metallic taste slid over her tongue.

  Red smears stained the floor. Blood. Her blood.

  Walt kicked her in the ribs, and crimson drops leaked from her nose and splashed onto the linoleum.

  The man’s beefy fingers bit her flesh. He shook her. “Give it to me, or I’ll kill you!”

  Past and present twined around each other. Numbed her. She did what experience had taught her was her best defense. She shut down. Drew into herself. Closed her eyes.

  Just endure it. Survive.

  Her grip slackened, and the package was ripped from her arms.

  Chapter 2

  With a frightened cry, Annie slid to the ground, raised her arms to protect her head. Through the haze of her terror, she heard the shuffle of feet. A grunt. A curse.

  Opening her eyes a slit, she found a second man in the alley, brawling hand-to-hand with her attacker.

  Touching her swollen lip, she scooted farther away from the men who battled in the shadowed alley. She cringed as the newly arrived man landed a solid blow to her attacker’s gut. Her assailant responded with a resounding punch to the other man’s jaw.

  Annie curled into a ball, trembling as fists flew. She squeezed her eyes shut and plugged her ears. She’d seen and heard enough violence in recent months to last her a lifetime. Her ex-husband’s abuse was an all-too-present memory that haunted her every day.

  Hot tears leaked onto her cheeks, and she conjured a image of her children, Haley and Ben. She prayed she’d survive to see them again. Please, God.

  Her kids were all that mattered. The reason she worked the exhausting waitress job at the diner. Her reason to persevere. Her reason for leaving Walt sixteen months ago, despite the horrifying weeks that followed as her abusive ex hunted her, terrorized her, nearly killed her.

  A loud, pained shout jolted her out of her protective shell, and she peeked out at the scene unfolding before her. Her assailant was on the ground, the second man rubbing his knuckles. As he stepped back from his opponent, the second man moved through a shaft of light from a streetlamp.

  And Annie glimpsed a face she knew from the diner. A regular.

  Her gasp drew the man’s attention.

  She searched her memory for his name. John? Jacob? No—Jonah.

  “Annie, are you all right?”

  In those few seconds of Jonah’s distraction, her assailant snatched up the envelope and ran from the alley.

  “The package!” Panic wrenched Annie’s chest.

  Jonah pursued the thief to the end of the alley but apparently decided against a footrace. Instead, he walked back toward Annie, wiping blood from his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. “Are you hurt?”

  “He took the envelope,” she said, her voice quivering. A sinking disappointment crushed her chest. Though grateful to be alive and to have had Jonah’s help, she dreaded what Hardin would do when he discovered she’d lost his package. Peter Hardin was no gentleman, and she doubted he’d be forgiving about her screwup. She buried her face in her hands as fresh tears puddled in her eyes. “He’s going to fire me. I know he is. Oh, God…”

  Jonah crouched in front of her, and she jolted when he stroked a hand down her arm.

  Raising a wary gaze, she scrunched a few inches farther away from him. He may have scared the mugger off, but she’d seen his skill with his fists. Experience had taught her to give violent men a wide berth.

  “Hey, come on now.” The low, soothing rumble of his voice lulled her. “You won’t lose your job. It’s not your fault you were mugged.” His dark eyebrows drew into a frown, and his tone hardened. “If anyone is to blame it’s that bastard Hardin for sending a woman into this neighborhood alone in the middle of the night.”

  Jonah flexed and balled his hand. Annie’s mouth dried, the stolen envelope temporarily forgotten as she focused on the more immediate threat—the man fisting his hand before her.

  Taking a deep breath, she eyed Jonah’s clenched fis
t. “Wh-why are you here?”

  He cocked his head slightly and lifted a corner of his mouth. “I’d have thought that was obvious. I followed you when you left the diner.”

  So her sense had been right. Her pulse sped up. “Why? What do you want?”

  He raised his hands, palms out. “I only wanted to keep an eye on you. I figured something like this might happen and…” He sighed. “I’m only sorry it took me so long to catch up once the jerk grabbed you. I should have stayed closer, but I didn’t want to spook you if you saw me following you.”

  Annie furrowed her brow skeptically. “So you were following me to…protect me?”

  He grunted. “I heard Hardin tell you to make the delivery, knew the neighborhood…” He glanced away for a moment and swiped at the blood beading under his nose again. “I oughta wring the jerk’s neck for putting you at risk this way.”

  “No!”

  Her vehement protest snapped his gaze back to hers. “Oh, I won’t. I’m not interested in being arrested for assault.” He held his hand out to her. “Can I help you up?”

  Annie hesitated, staring at his large hand. His knuckles were swollen and raw, his palm toughened by calluses. That hand had packed a powerful punch to her assailant.

  “Annie?”

  Her gaze darted up to his. In the harsh shaft of light from the streetlamp, she studied his face. His bloody nose had a bump at the bridge, as if it had been broken before. A thin, silvery scar bisected his dark eyebrow, and a red blotch on his jaw hinted at a future bruise, courtesy of her attacker.

  Yet despite all these visible signs of past and recent fights, his lopsided grin and warm green eyes spoke of a softer side to this man.

  “Keep the change.”

  “Let go of her.”

  Did she dare trust him? He had come to help her. Or so he said.

  “If you wanted to protect me…” She paused, second-guessing the wisdom of challenging him on his story. Challenging Walt had earned her more than one beating.

  “Go on.”

  She took a fortifying breath. “Well, why not just walk with me? Why follow me?”

  He rubbed a hand over his battered jaw. “Fair question.” He tugged up the corner of his mouth. “If I had offered to walk with you or drive you to the drop-off address, would you have accepted?”

  “I—” She lifted her chin. “Well…probably not. All I know about you is that you like lots of milk in your coffee—skim, not whole—and that you usually sit at the counter. First seat, facing the door.”

  His grin was a tad smug. “That’s what I thought.” He offered his hand again.

  This time, after a brief hesitation, Annie placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. The warmth and strength of his fingers, curled around hers, sent an odd shiver through her. How could a touch be both comforting and unnerving at the same time? The size of his hand, swallowing her smaller one, sent a tingling awareness through her. His height dwarfed her five feet four inches, and he had more strength in one arm than she had in her whole body. Like Walt had.

  Jonah had the power and skill to crush her if he chose.

  Her stomach did a forward roll. Snatching her hand back, she rubbed her arms, hoping to warm the chill that burrowed to her bones.

  “Did he hurt you, Annie? I can take you to the emergency room if—”

  “No! I—I’m fine. Really.” I’ve taken far worse.

  Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she averted her gaze, tried to collect her thoughts. “I…I guess I should call the police. File a report.”

  Jonah’s eyes narrowed, and he rubbed his jaw. “Uh, generally yes. But…I’d rather you didn’t.”

  Her gaze snapped up to his. “Why not? He took Mr. Hardin’s package. He said the package was important and—”

  “The guy is long gone.”

  “But the cops need to know! I was attacked, and…maybe they can find the package before—”

  Before Peter Hardin finds out the envelope was stolen. Fear seized her lungs, and she struggled for a breath. “Oh, God,” she wheezed.

  “Annie?” Concern knit Jonah’s brow as she leaned against the bricks and gasped for air.

  “H-Hardin…will kill me. H-he’s…going to hate me. H-he…”

  Jonah stroked a hand over her back. “Calm down, Annie. It’ll be all right. Hardin can’t blame you for this.”

  She angled her head to glance up at him and scoffed. “You don’t know him very well.” She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t have a cell phone. I’ll have to wait until I get home to report this…Unless you—”

  Jonah was shaking his head. “Annie, I know you have no reason to trust me, but…I need you not to call the cops about this.”

  Annie frowned. “Wha—Why?”

  “I have my reasons. I know that’s not much to go on, but it’s all I can say now.” He scowled and ducked his head. “Please, Annie. I need you to trust me on this.”

  Trust him? She barely knew him. And trust was one thing she had little of when it came to men. Walt had destroyed what little trust she had. But to get away from him, to get out of this deserted alley and get home to her kids, she’d promise anything.

  “All right. No cops.” Yet. She reserved the right to change her mind once she was safe at home.

  With his mouth in a grim line, he gave a tight nod. Jonah swept his gaze over her, then stepped back. “I can at least walk you back to the diner parking lot.”

  “I don’t have a car. Can’t afford one.” Annie lifted her chin, determined not to feel any embarrassment for her financial woes. She had no reason to be ashamed.

  “Mmm. That’s kinda what I figured when you didn’t drive here. How did you plan on getting home?”

  She scooped her purse off the ground. “Same way I got here. Walking. Usually I take the bus home. But on nights when I work late, the bus is no longer running.”

  Jonah heaved a sigh. “Well, my truck is back near the diner if you’d like a ride.”

  Annie adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder, steeling herself for the long walk home. “No. Thank you.”

  He scowled. “You know I’m going to follow you, regardless.”

  Her heart gave a kick, and her muscles tightened. Walt had disregarded her wishes, too. Done as he damned well pleased, whenever, whatever. She’d felt powerless.

  The last thing she needed was another controlling man dictating her life. Especially one who clearly was no stranger to violence. But how did she refuse without incurring his wrath? How did she impose her will on a man whose mind was obviously set?

  With the flutter of ill-ease in her veins, Annie backed toward the street. She cleared her throat to steady her voice before replying, faking the confidence she hoped she projected. “I…appreciate your help earlier, but I can get home by myself.”

  He rubbed his hands on the seat of his jeans, shaking his head. “It’s late, Annie. The streets in this part of town are dangerous—as you’ve discovered.”

  She shivered, remembering the instant terror when she’d been grabbed. Her arm still throbbed from her attacker’s viselike grip. Defeat settled in her belly like a rock, followed closely by a surge of desperation. How would she explain the lost package to Hardin? Was she destined to be a victim of men’s violence for the rest of her life?

  Not a victim, Annie. You’re a survivor. Stay positive. Attitude is everything. The mantras and platitudes Ginny, her counselor from the women’s center, preached echoed in her brain. But on days like today, keeping a rosy outlook took more energy than she had. She’d dealt with grumpy customers, poor tippers and a demanding boss. She’d been on her feet since noon, spilled coffee on a customer who then threatened to sue and had had her life endangered thanks to a boss who would likely fire her for losing his package.

  Annie shoved aside the sense of impending disaster and squared her shoulders as she faced Jonah. “I can’t stop you from following me, but I prefer to get home by my own means.”

&nb
sp; Jonah ducked his head, his mouth twisted in a frown of disagreement. “Fine. I won’t argue with you.” He shook his head and huffed his frustration. “But if you change your mind, give a shout. I’ll be just a block or so behind you.”

  The cocky lift of his eyebrow dared her to try to stop him from tailing her. He stepped back to let her pass, and she marched toward the street, squeezing her purse to her chest and giving the dark downtown avenue a wary scrutiny.

  A queasy jitter roiled in her gut, knowing she’d disappointed him, upset him. Her innate need to please, an instinct Walt had exploited and pushed to an unhealthy extreme, caused her a moment’s hesitation. She almost balked, almost relented.

  When she’d risked her life to free herself from Walt, she’d vowed to never depend on a man for anything ever again. Rebuilding her life, her confidence, her inner strength was a daily struggle. Old habits and emotions, ingrained in her during six turbulent years of marriage, died hard. But she’d sworn to shed the debilitating attitudes and knee-jerk reactions from her marriage in favor of strength and self-empowerment.

  One day at a time.

  She could take care of herself and her children, no matter what. She hated that she needed the job Hardin gave her so desperately, but without a college degree, her employment options were limited.

  She glanced behind her a time or two as she made her way home, and each time, Jonah gave a nod as if to say, “Yep. I’m still here.”

  She sensed Jonah’s stare like a weight on her back as she crossed the parking lot and climbed the outside iron stairs to her second-floor apartment. On the grillwork landing, she lifted her gaze and found him in the lawn below. She flicked her hand, shooing him away.

  Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he nodded to her door.

  Sighing, she unlocked the door and pushed it open an inch. Again she flicked her fingers, sending him away. His lopsided grin flashed white under the bluish light of the security lamp, and he waved. Only when she turned to go inside did he finally amble off in the direction they’d come.

  She parted the sheers on the kitchen window to make sure he really left, didn’t loiter in the parking lot or try to come up the stairs to her door. His loose-limbed stride mirrored the relaxed confidence she’d come to know when she waited on him at the diner. He poked his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and for an instant, she admired the way his clothes fit his taut, muscular body.