she had no business making. Clapping a hand over her scampering heartbeat, she faced her babysitter. “Rani, I … Sorry I’m late. My boss had me run an errand after I got off.”
“It’s okay. I was just watching TV. I—” Rani paused, wrinkling her brow. “Gosh, what happened to your lip?”
Annie touched her swollen mouth. She’d almost forgotten about the blow the mugger had landed, splitting her lip. “Nothing really. I’ll be fine. Just a little accident,” she lied out of habit.
She’d gotten good at making up explanations for the injuries Walt had inflicted.
She was a klutz. The baby had bumped her nose with his head. She’d tripped over a toy in the dark. Her babysitter frowned but said nothing else about Annie’s injury.
“Come on.” Annie hitched her head toward the back of the apartment. “Let’s get you your check.” She paused at the door to the kids’ bedroom and peeked in.
Ben slept soundly in his crib with his diapered butt poking in the air, and curled in her bed, Haley clutched her stuffed cat, Tom, under one arm.
A tightness squeezed Annie’s chest as love filled her heart to bursting. Quietly, she stepped into the room and adjusted Ben’s blanket to cover his arms, then crouched to stroke Haley’s long, dark hair. Her daughter stirred, and Annie held her breath, hoping she hadn’t woken Haley with her motherly doting. She tiptoed back out the door and turned toward her bedroom where she kept her checkbook.
After scribbling out Rani’s weekly payment, she walked the teenager to the door.
“You still need me at eleven thirty tomorrow morning?”
Rani Ogitani had graduated from high school the previous May and started babysitting for Annie the following summer. Now, ten months later, Rani claimed to be looking for a job, thinking about college, weighing her options, but seemed content watching Annie’s children and living with her mother for the time being.
“Yeah. Eleven thirty. The kids give you any trouble today? I know Ben can be a handful.”
Rani yawned. “They were okay. Mom says Ben’s crankiness is just his age. Typical terrible twos.”
Annie grinned. “This, too, shall pass.”
“Hmm?”
“Something my grandmother used to say. Never mind.” She held the door open for Rani and stood on the landing to watch as the teenager crossed the parking lot to her mother’s first-floor apartment.
The March evening still held a nip of the winter just past, and goose bumps rose on Annie’s arms. Before stepping back inside, she scanned the yard, the parking area, the street. Jonah was gone. Or at least she couldn’t see him anywhere, if he was hiding, watching.
She shook her head. That was paranoia talking. Walt’s legacy.
Or was it? Jonah had followed her when she left to make her delivery for Mr. Hardin. Was he really just being thoughtful and protective? Why had he asked her not to call the cops? Was he her guardian angel—or was Jonah hiding a dangerous secret?
Chapter 3
The next day, Jonah took his place at the lunch counter at Pop’s Diner as he had nearly every day for the past several months. With luck, he’d only have to subject himself to the diner’s menu another couple of weeks. As he followed through with the bet he’d placed with Farrout the night before, he hoped he now had an inside track to learn more about how the illegal gambling operation worked—how gamblers paid their debts, where the money went, who was involved at higher levels.
Follow the money.
He thought about the package Annie had been given to deliver last night, and tension spiraled through him. He’d bet anything Hardin’s package had to do with the gambling money he was laundering through the diner. Whoever had been on the other end of that delivery was a key player in this operation.
Jonah gritted his teeth. He’d been so close to filling in another piece of the puzzle in this investigation before that bastard had jumped Annie and made off with the package.
It almost seemed as if the guy had been lying in wait for her. As if he’d known that package was to be delivered ….
Jonah puffed his cheeks and blew a slow, thoughtful breath out through puckered lips. Who could have tipped the thief off? Where was the leak in the operation? Was someone gunning for Hardin?
Nothing about last night’s turn of events sat well with Jonah, especially when he figured Annie into the picture. Hardin had drawn her into the dynamic. She could have unwittingly become ensnared in the sticky web of deceit Hardin and Farrout had spun.
Jonah mulled his next move, then glanced up from his ham on rye when Annie breezed through the front door at ten minutes until noon. She cast him a quick nervous glance as she poked her purse under the counter and rushed back into the kitchen.
Jonah swabbed another greasy fry through his puddle of ketchup, keeping an eye on the kitchen door. Waiting.
Moments later he heard Hardin’s raised voice roll from the back of the restaurant like thunder announcing a storm. “You lost it? You idiot! I told you how important that package was! How could you lose it?”
Jonah craned his neck, trying to find Annie through the service window.
He heard the soft murmur of Annie’s response, recognized the frightened tremble in her tone, and his gut pitched.
“Sorry’s not good enough!” Hardin screamed.
A loud crash. Annie’s frightened yelp.
In an instant, Jonah had jumped from his stool and barreled through the swinging door into the kitchen. He sized up the situation in a glance. Hardin’s red face, balled fists and threatening pose as he leaned close to Annie. The young waitress had scrunched back against the wall, her face pale and arms raised defensively to protect her head.
“Is there a problem here?”
Hardin’s glare snapped over to Jonah. “What are you doin’? Can’t you read? Employees only!”
“Annie? You all right?” he asked, ignoring Hardin.
Frightened brown eyes lifted at his inquiry.
Hardin jabbed a finger toward the door. “This ain’t none of your business!”
“I’m making it my business. I don’t take kindly to any man threatening a woman.”
Annie’s brow furrowed warily.
“The bitch lost two hundred grand of my money!” Hardin growled.
Annie gasped, and her eyes widened. “Two hundred grand!”
Hardin narrowed a glare on her. “That’s right. Two hundred grand. And it’s comin’ out of your paycheck!”
Her face blanched a shade whiter. “Mr. Hardin, I can’t—”
“Shut
