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.”
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.
“Miss
