Tall Dark Defender. Beth Cornelison

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      Jonah sighed. “I know because…I’ve spent the past six months on this investigation.”

      “This investigation? You’re a cop?”

      “I was. In Little Rock. But I left the force about a year ago, right before I moved here.”

      Mentally she reviewed everything she’d heard the other waitresses say about Jonah. “You told Susan you worked at the paper mill. That was a lie, wasn’t it?”

      He blew a deep breath out through pursed lips. “Yeah. That’s my cover.”

      Annie’s heart tapped a staccato rhythm, and she studied Jonah with new eyes, doubt and distrust nipping at her. “Your cover? Who are you? What are you? Why should I trust you? What do you want from me?” The questions tumbled from her in increasing volume as her fear mounted.

      He quieted her by touching a finger to her lips. “I don’t work for anyone. This investigation is personal for me. I’ve been looking into the gambling ring and money laundering because of a friend of mine. The men involved in the ring swindled Michael out of his entire retirement savings.”

      A sympathetic pang gripped her chest. Annie understood the gravity of such a loss. She lived paycheck to paycheck and couldn’t imagine how she’d survive if her income disappeared.

      Jonah stepped back and propped himself against the scarred desk again. “Last night, I asked you not to go to the cops because I was afraid police involvement in your mugging would scare some of the players into hiding. I’m getting close to nailing these bastards, and I didn’t want any unnecessary outside law enforcement to rock the boat before I get the evidence I need.”

      Annie shook her head trying to wrap her mind around the scenario Jonah laid out. “Wh-what kind of evidence?”

      “I need to see for myself exactly how the operation runs, who is involved up the chain. I’ll need to videotape a transaction or record incriminating conversations. If I can get them, bank records, computer files, a log of wagers, any kind of paper trail to support my case.” He wiped his palms on his jeans and shook his head. “But the deeper I get into their organization, the dicier it gets. These men have a lot of money at stake. If they get spooked, they’ll protect themselves and their interests in the operation by any means possible. Even murder.”

      A numbing chill crept through Annie. She stared at Jonah, questions spinning through her brain, yet she couldn’t make her tongue work. The weight of the situation settled on her lungs, squeezing the breath from her. By trying to save her job, had she embroiled herself in a scheme that could cost her her life?

      The air in the tiny dark office vibrated with tension. Jonah held her gaze, his green eyes difficult to read in the dim light.

      Swallowing the pressure in her throat, Annie voiced her doubts. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth? Why should I trust you?”

      “Your attack last night was real enough, wasn’t it? Hardin’s fury over the stolen money was no act. I’ve no doubt he’s up a major creek right now with whoever that money was going to.”

      Joseph Nance. The name Hardin had given her flashed through her mind, but she kept silent, playing her cards close to her chest until she could figure out for herself who she should trust and where Jonah really fit in the dangerous scenario he described.

      “I know I’ve dropped a bomb on you. I understand how scary this must be. But I need you to believe that I am the only person at that diner looking out for your interests. I want to protect you from any fallout, but you’ll have to trust me.”

      Her trust had been shattered by the last man she gave it to and would be hard-earned for Jonah. Another biting chill nipped her skin. “What do you want me to do?”

      “Nothing right now. But stay alert. Keep your eyes and ears open. And learn how to defend yourself.” He pushed away from the desk and moved close enough for her to feel the body heat radiating from his skin. “That’s where I come in.”

      

      Jonah reached for Annie, noting the wariness that shadowed her eyes. When he touched her arm, she stiffened and pulled away.

      “What are you doing?” Alarm flashed in her mahogany eyes.

      “Getting to the business at hand. Teaching you some defensive moves to protect yourself.”

      Her stance relaxed a fraction, but her expression remained cautious. He understood that caution better now. Her story about a car accident causing her facial scar aside, she hadn’t denied his conjecture about her history of abuse. Her body language had told him all she didn’t say. He had to proceed carefully. The last thing he wanted was to cause Annie any more pain.

      But her protection was paramount, and he couldn’t be with her twenty-four seven.

      “Let’s start with the basics.” He squared his feet in front of her. “Your best strike points are your attacker’s eyes, his groin and his throat. Concentrate your efforts there. Okay? Like this…”

      Jonah lifted his arms to demonstrate the best hand position for a throat strike.

      Annie rubbed a hand down her arm, her expression dubious. “I don’t know. Fighting back will only make him mad, make him hurt me more.”

      Jonah lowered his hands and stepped back. He remembered how Annie had shut down last night, retreating into herself and giving her attacker no resistance. “Do you believe your life is worth fighting for?”

      Her chin lifted, surprise flickering across her face. “Of course.”

      “Do you? Deep down, do you truly believe your life is worth defending at any cost? Because to save your life, you may have to do things that are difficult, or embarrassing, or impolite or disgusting. You have to believe you’re worth it and be willing to do whatever it takes. Gouging eyeballs, biting until you draw blood…”

      She winced and pulled her arms closer to her body.

      Jonah scratched his jaw, reassessing his approach with Annie. His first task was helping her overcome her skittishness. Maybe showing her a few simple, less invasive moves would help build her confidence.

      “Lower your arms to your sides,” he said, doing so himself. When she complied, he gave her an encouraging smile. “Now I promise not to hurt you. I just want to show you a couple tricks you can use.”

      Her brow puckered skeptically.

      “What would you do if someone grabbed your arm like this?” He wrapped his hand around her wrist with a secure grip.

      She gasped and tried to jerk her arm back. He held tight.

      “Instinct tells you to pull back, but unless you’re stronger than your attacker, that won’t work, will it?”

      She raised a startled look from her wrist, meeting his gaze. “So…what do I do?”

      Beneath his fingers, the flutter of her pulse beat harder, faster. He became acutely aware of the delicate softness of her skin, the poignant blend of hope and vulnerability in her expression and the answering thump of his own heart.

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