bush, Emma. Let’s cut to the chase.” Resting some of his weight on his hands, he leaned back against the desk. “I was a cop a few years ago, and I showed up in the wrong place at the wrong time, during a gang fight.” His tone was casual, but the disability obviously bothered him.
“That must have been very difficult to deal with.”
“It’s okay.” He shrugged. “I found something new to do.”
She tilted her head toward the door and the main room of the club. “Successfully, judging by the crowd.”
He glanced at the plate the server had left. “But not by the food. You didn’t eat more than a bite of your sandwich.”
Emma hesitated, and he nodded ruefully. “It wasn’t very good, was it?”
An apologetic smile didn’t soften the truth. “Not very.”
“Hard to ruin a ham sandwich and chips. But decent cooks won’t stay in this part of town.”
“So the music must be fantastic.”
Now he grinned, with pride. “Yeah.”
“And you have a responsibility to be here.” She turned to pick up her now practically weightless purse. “I think I should take a taxi back to the hotel.”
He shook his head. “I think not.” That seemed to settle the issue, for Jimmy, at least. “So, can we have dinner together tomorrow night? About seven?”
Her annoyance at his attitude regarding the medallion leaked away. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” Music flooded into the office as he opened the door. “After you.”
There was—always had been—an air of command about him she couldn’t ignore. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He returned her smile with the same appreciative grin that had snared her when she was eighteen. And did so again now.
On their way through the crush of people in the main room, he stopped at the bar and exchanged words with the woman making drinks, a pretty blonde with a figure Emma envied. What she wouldn’t give to be five foot five with a waist that small!
When they stepped outside, Jimmy touched her lightly on the shoulder. “I’m parked down here.” Emma turned obediently to the left, trying to ignore how she reacted to that simple, impersonal contact.
Under a street lamp only a few yards away, he stopped beside a sleek, black Jaguar XJE. Emma paused at the front bumper. “Very nice. But…” She glanced down the street. “Don’t you worry that such an expensive car will be stolen or damaged?”
“I’ve got a loud burglar alarm, and a steering-wheel lock.” Jimmy opened the passenger door. “Besides, it’s just a car. Expensive, but easy to—”
The sound of garbage cans crashing and voices yelling interrupted him. A writhing mass of bodies tumbled out of the blackness of a nearby alley, almost under Emma’s feet. Obscenities and curses drowned all the other night noises. Something flashed in the streetlight. The blade of a knife.
Jimmy opened the car door and pushed her inside. “Lock the door. Use the phone and dial 911.”
Hands shaking, she did as he said. But being locked in the car didn’t prevent her from witnessing the brawl. Time seemed to stop, though the whole episode lasted a minute at most. The violence broke into two battles—in the nearest, a thin man in black had hold of a younger man around the knees while the other assailant tried to get a grip on the victim’s throat. Unnoticed in the fury, Jimmy stepped in and grabbed the neck of the would-be strangler’s T-shirt, pulling backward, diverting his attention from his prisoner. Freeing one leg, the youth kicked out at the face of the man in black. The blow connected and the man fell back against a wall, blood spurting from his nose.
Thanks to Jimmy’s interference, the young man also managed to escape from the hold on his throat. He swung at his attacker and fell to his knees, breathing hard, only to be hit from behind by the man he’d just kicked. Face pushed into the pavement, he flailed his arms and legs, but the weight on his back didn’t budge.
The second man turned on Jimmy just as the other fight came apart. One of that struggling pair ducked, rolled away from his assailant—the one with the knife—and came to his feet right outside Emma’s window. The entire scene froze at that instant, went completely quiet. No one moved, except for the boy lying facedown. He couldn’t see the gun now trained on everyone involved in the confrontation.
Everyone…including Jimmy.
CHAPTER TWO
JIMMY STRAIGHTENED, dropped his hands to his sides and took a few breaths to get control of his voice. “Lose the gun, Tomas. The police are on their way.”
A siren in the distance backed him up. Some of the regulars on the street had noticed the commotion and were coming to investigate. Just what they needed—more targets.
“Go to hell,” the boy snarled. “These bastards were gonna kill us.” He pointed the gun at the guy sitting on his friend’s back. “Get off him. Now.” The man hesitated, then jerked at the sound of the hammer being pulled back. “Or I’ll blow you off.”
With a final shove at his captive’s shoulders, the creep scrabbled onto the sidewalk and backed up, crabwise, against the building.
Tomas nodded his approval. “Good idea. Now you—” he turned to the man with the knife “—drop the friggin’ knife before I friggin’ shoot your hand off. Good. You okay, Harlow?”
The other boy staggered to his feet, wiping blood off his face. “I’m okay.”
Jimmy could see Emma staring out the car window behind Tomas, her eyes wide with shock and, probably, terror. He started to sweat, thinking what a bullet could do to the thin shield of glass. “Nothing’s going to happen now, Tomas. Put the weapon away.”
As Harlow limped up beside the Indian boy, blue lights flashed at the corner. “Come on, Tommy. You want to keep that piece, you’d better stash it before the cops see you carrying.” He glanced at Jimmy, his eyebrow quirked. “Mr. Falcon’s not gonna give us away, right?”
“I didn’t see a gun…unless I count to five and it’s still in his hand.”
Tomas dropped the pistol into a pocket of his camouflage jacket just as a department vehicle pulled up behind the Jag. A couple of uniforms Jimmy didn’t know got out, each with a hand on his weapon and the other hand holding his stick.
Great. This explanation would have gone down easier with somebody he’d worked beside. “Evening, Officers.”
The taller one just looked him over. “What’s going on?”
“These guys jumped us in the alley.” Tomas spoke before anybody else could. “Practically killed us with that knife there.” He kicked the weapon with his toe.
“Sure.” The cop looked back at Jimmy. “Who are you?”
“Jimmy Falcon. I own The Indigo.” He nodded
