style="font-size:15px;"> 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
