The Enforcer Read online

  But that was over now. She’d move on again.

  She twisted the dial on her locker. Passed the first number by a mile and had to start again. She shook her hands and flexed her fingers to calm down. Leaning in, she pressed her forehead against the cool metal and tried to block the moment when that customer’s expression had changed.

  She’d watched the switch. It would have been tough to miss; she’d been stealing peeks since the bell above the door chimed and the guy came in. His head almost grazed the top of the doorframe. He was wild tall, like maybe six-four.

  He carried that body with an air of strength and confidence. The dark suit didn’t do anything to hide the broad shoulders and trim waist. And the fact he’d skipped a tie and kept the top few buttons of his pristine white shirt open said something about him. She wasn’t sure what, but that deep voice had echoed through her with every word he uttered, and there had only been a few.

  His presence drew her in. Made her look twice . . . three times, even. The dark hair and brown eyes. The faint shadow of scruff around his chin. He was good-looking in a knew-how-to-please-a-woman sort of way. Not pretty. Not the type who would spend more time in the bathroom than she did in the morning. A guy who didn’t care about the brand of his shampoo or tag on his shirts.

  Strong hands, long fingers. All of it came with a very real sense that the fancy clothes didn’t fit the man underneath. That something hot and maybe a little dirty lurked there.

  He and his friend had started arguing. They’d passed a file back and forth and lowered their discussion to a whisper. The shorter one shot her more than one odd glance.

  Like that, the energy pinging through the room had morphed into a pounding tension. She knew the anxiety came from inside of her and colored everything around her. A strange darkness descended around her, choking her. When the tall one had looked over at her the last time, her mind filled in the blanks and panic moved through her.

  Her past had taught her to be careful and wary. She could read the signs and sensed when a man’s interest turned and he started to question her. When his mood flicked from attracted to distrust. When flirty glances shifted to glaring.

  None of that happened with the tall one in the suit. He remained calm and detached. Kept watching her. Except for a brief narrowing of his eyes, which he quickly schooled, nothing in his demeanor changed. Still, she felt the seismic shift. Deep in her gut she sensed he was here for her, not coffee. If past experience was any guide, that meant one thing. He knew. Somehow he knew.

  Now the threats would start. The prickly sensation of being followed would swallow up every hour. Her control would slip away until the revving need to run flooded through her. She could confront him, but she’d lose that battle. He was bigger. And whatever questions he thought he had would go unanswered. She’d never be able to fill the hole inside either of them.

  So, she’d go. Now, before the notes appeared under her door.

  She spun the dial again and this time hit close enough to the right numbers to get the lock open. She could hear the cook calling for her as the locker banged open. She ignored it all, from the screech of metal against metal to the soft mumble of sounds from the other side of the diner.

  She stared down at the small black bag tucked into the bottom. Her alternate to-go bag. The one with limited extra provisions. That’s all she’d have now. After two tugs, she had it out and balanced the strap over her shoulder.

  Careful not to make too much noise, she tiptoed to the emergency door on the other side of the room. Stopped and took one last look around. Ignored the clogging sensation in her throat and the dragging feeling of loss. In time the sadness would fade, but right now it pummeled her. Nearly drove her to her knees.

  She bit it back, pushed it down and typed in the code. The lock beeped and she opened the door. Sunlight streamed in from the side alley, but before she could take another step a shadow moved in front of her. She tried to say something—anything—but words piled up in her throat.

  The guy from inside. Those dark eyes didn’t show one ounce of emotion. Didn’t flicker with any sign of life as they narrowed.

  “Going somewhere?” he asked.

  That deep voice. She could only shake her head.

  He slipped his hands out of his pants pockets. “Good.”

  She couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t get her legs to move either. Somehow she choked out two words. “Is it?”

  “I need more coffee.”

  Chapter 4

  He followed her past the kitchen and back into the heart of the café. A cook called out, but Matthias ignored it. His attention centered on one woman, and this time not on her fine ass. He couldn’t see much of anything through the angry haze clouding his vision. He’d temporarily been reeled in. He wondered if that’s what had happened to Nick.

  Matthias waited until she picked up the coffeepot to pivot around her and retake his seat. If she ran now, he’d catch her. Even though he no longer worked in the field, he kept in shape.

  But right now he went with sitting. He slid back into the booth.

  “I’m afraid to ask what just happened,” Garrett mumbled under his breath as he looked around the room.

  “I asked for more coffee.” Matthias made a show of holding up his mug as he glanced at the woman he now thought of as Kayla.

  It took longer than it should have to grab her attention. When he did, she nodded but didn’t exactly come running. She sauntered around, carrying the pot and checking on every table. Even stopped at one without any people in it and straightened the napkins and forks sitting there.

  She stayed cool and detached. Seemed unemotional. In any other situation he would have been impressed. He was too busy assessing and staring to be that right now.

  “You went outside and around the back of the building to ask for more coffee. Isn’t that the hard way to do it?” Garrett kept a hand he must have grabbed back.

  Matthias wasn’t in the mood for arm wrestling for it right now, he moved on. “I needed to stretch my legs.”

  The corner of Garrett’s mouth lifted into a smile. “Sure. Makes perfect sense.”

  “I didn’t touch my gun.”

  Garrett clapped without making any real sound. “Well, look at you exhibiting all that self-control.”

  The smartass thing was enough to get Matthias fully focused on Garrett instead of the waitress. “I could pull it out now.”

  “I see it’s your common sense I still need to be concerned about.”

  “How does Wren get through the day without firing you?” Matthias appreciated Garrett’s skills but not the sarcasm or the constant back talk. When he gave an order, he expected it to be followed without question.

  People talked about how nothing was black or white, and how you had to deal with gray areas. Bullshit. People mucked everything up with feelings and rethinking and failing to act. Right and wrong shouldn’t be open to interpretation.

  Seemed obvious enough to him.

  “What makes you think Wren doesn’t?” Garrett scoffed. “I get fired and rehired multiple times per day.”

  That made sense, but still. “Most employees would learn a lesson.”

  “That Wren has no intention of actually getting rid of me? Yeah, I figured that out long ago.” Garrett drained the rest of his coffee from the mug. “And, like you, he needs someone to keep him in line. Make sure he doesn’t go too far and get arrested.”

  Matthias wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He’d never needed a babysitter in his life. “It’s hard to imagine Wren being that stupid.”

  “You’d be amazed.”

  “Tell me what I need to know about her until I can read the report.” The “her” in question hovered behind the cash register. She didn’t make a move to come over or bring him more coffee. But she wasn’t running either, and that worked for him. For now.

  He could wait her out for a month, if needed. She might be operating in panic mode, but he’d been trained. That gave him the advant
age.

  When Garrett didn’t say anything, Matthias looked over at him. He couldn’t believe he had to tell the man to start talking a second time. What kind of operation was Wren running? Matthias planned to talk to his friend about control and how to command a situation. Right now, he settled for glaring.

  Garrett shrugged. “I already told you what I know.”

  “I refuse to believe that’s all the intel you picked up about her.”

  “I gave you a name and you scared the hell out of her and sent her bolting and then . . . well, I don’t know what happened in the back. So this”—Garrett spun his finger around in a circle in midair—“whatever this is and what’s happening now and her looking ready to jump through a wall, is on you.”

  “Like I told you, I asked her for more coffee.” Seemed innocent enough to Matthias. He’d wanted to sit her down and start an interrogation but he suspected that sort of thing might piss off Garrett and get some of the locals to call 9-1-1 on him. So, he waited.

  “Is that code for something?”

  Matthias wanted to concentrate on the woman, but Garrett just never shut up. “What the hell are you talking about now?”

  “That’s really it? You’re saying she looks hunted because you told her you wanted more coffee.”

  “I don’t like to repeat myself.” Matthias had no idea how Garrett failed to pick up on that fact.

  “You’re a joy to work with.”

  Matthias reached out and slammed his palm against the file. The thwap had the woman jumping and provided enough subterfuge for him to grab the file back. “For.”

  Garrett shook his head, something he seemed to do a lot. “Yeah, keep thinking that.”

  “Speaking of which, you can go. You provided what few details you have, so Wren’s favor is complete and . . . why are you still shaking your head?” The gesture was starting to piss Matthias off.

  “Wren told me not to leave your side until this—whatever ‘this’ is—is over.” Garrett leaned back in the booth. “Consider me your temporary assistant.”

  What the fuck? “Do I look like I need help?”

  “Should I really answer that?”

  “Even if I did, I have an entire staff I could call in.” Just as Matthias started to say more, the woman moved. She inched closer to the kitchen and Matthias felt every cell inside him switch to high alert.

  “You get me,” Garrett said.

  But Matthias was barely listening now. He was too busy assessing the room—the people, what furniture might be blocking his path, any collateral damage—to care about Garrett. “Why?”

  “That’s a broad question.” Garrett glanced around the restaurant. “I think your woman is trying to bolt, which is weird since the way you demanded more coffee was so charming.”

  “She can’t scare me away or lose me.”

  “Lucky her.” Garrett’s eyebrow lifted. “Oh, wait. We have movement other than running for her life in the other direction. Interesting.”

  After some hesitation, she headed straight for them. Didn’t stop until she hovered by the edge of the table on Garrett’s side, staring and generally doing nothing to hide her wish to be almost anywhere else.

  “Are you ready to pay the bill?” Her voice was flat, all signs of flirting gone.

  Shoulders back. Making eye contact. Matthias couldn’t help but take notice. He wasn’t sure if she stood there, so sure and confident, because she lacked any human emotion or because she was tough as hell. He kind of hoped it was the latter. “I asked for more coffee.”

  “Right.”

  “Thank you, Kayla.” Her eyes widened. Just for a second, and since he didn’t want to spook her, he nodded in the direction of her chest. “It’s on your tag.”

  “Oh.” Her hand went to the small plastic square. Fumbled with it. “I’ll get that for you right now.”

  She scrambled away from the table. It was the only sign of what was going on in her head. Even then she quickly adjusted. Within a few steps she was back to rushing around without breaking a sweat.

  He admired the coolness, that ass and the way she moved. Except for brief moments, reading her proved tough. That meant one thing—he was going to be stuck in Annapolis for a few days.

  An hour later Matthias stood on the sidewalk outside the café with Garrett. Matthias half expected her to rush over and lock the door behind them. She didn’t, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t happen.

  This was not a woman he could shake easily. She held her outward calm. She didn’t appear to be intimidated, which was a damn shame. That was his go-to move. It was amazing how often that resulted in him getting his way.

  Instead of staying inside and pushing—the solution that screamed through him, begging to happen—he’d lingered over that second cup of coffee, assessing her. He debated hanging around but decided giving her a little space, but not much, was the right answer. This way he could study the file and watch her from a distance.

  But he didn’t venture far. He stopped on the boardwalk a few feet away from the café’s front door and only steps from the marina. He was willing to have only so much space between him and Kayla. That woman was a runner and he didn’t feel like tracking her or calling another favor from Wren. Hell, he couldn’t get rid of the leftover part of that favor—Garrett.

  “Tell me again what you said to her in the back,” Garrett asked as he pivoted around a trashcan.

  Matthias stopped walking, which forced Garrett to do the same. “For the third time, I asked for more coffee. That’s it.”

  “Then we need to work on your creepiness factor.”

  That was exactly the wrong answer. “It’s not a bad thing for her to be wary. She might mess up. Make it easier to figure out what she’s hiding and what really happened in that house years ago.”

  “Do you also want her to be armed? Because she looked ready to hit you with the coffeepot.”

  Matthias appreciated a good fight-or-flight instinct. He also understood how people acted when trapped. Some made mistakes. Some got scary. He wasn’t sure where she would fall on the scale. Not yet. “I need her to be a little less sure of herself.”

  Garrett stepped forward so an older couple walking by could pass, and waited until they moved out of easy hearing range. “You’re not great at dealing with humans, are you?”

  “Not especially.” Matthias didn’t see that as a particularly helpful skill anyway. Strategy and fighting would be much easier to implement without the human factor, but he tended not to mention that because it freaked people out.

  “How do you expect to get answers if you terrify her?”

  Matthias didn’t understand the question. “She’ll tell me what I need to know.”

  “Or . . .” Garrett held up a finger. “If she’s as smart as I think she is, she’ll run like hell.”

  “Then I’ll follow.” So far Matthias hadn’t heard anything to cause concern.

  “That comment does not make you sound less creepy.”

  Again with the creepy thing. “I’ll work on that this week.”

  Garrett groaned. “I hate to ask what that means.”

  The next few days called for subtlety. Admittedly, not one of his strengths. He preferred the barking-at-people-until-they-broke method.

  “A vacation seems in order and this marina might not be a bad place to take it.” He had no idea about vacations. He hadn’t taken one since . . . had he ever taken one? He’d tried Las Vegas years ago but quickly flew home again after seeing people throw money away for no good reason. “You’re still free to leave now that you told me where she is.”

  Garrett rolled his eyes. “As if I’d miss this.”

  Chapter 5

  Kayla tried not to flinch when Mr. Suit walked in again the next day. This time he was alone. He actually gave her a little wave as he slipped inside the café around ten in the morning and sat down.

  She reached under the counter and touched the gun she kept there. He might be fine and not really a danger,
but she was not taking any chances.

  She had other customers and had sent off coolers packed with food and snacks for pleasure cruises. The morning had been busy but nothing unusual. Enough that she was looking forward to a short break.

  She’d settled in to enjoy a post–breakfast crowd cup of coffee when he picked up a menu. The temptation to ignore him kicked strong. She was torn between encouraging repeat business and fighting off the strange mix of wariness and interest that hit her when she looked at him.

  When he put down the menu, she reluctantly set down her coffee mug. Thought about chasing him out using that gun and decided that might be too dramatic. But she’d keep an eye on him. She’d taken those personal safety classes for a reason and knew how to shoot, run and scream. Boy, could she scream.

  Time to get up and get back to work, but she needed to be smarter today. Maybe amp down on the friendliness factor and skip the flirting. No tip was worth potentially having to fight this guy off for getting the wrong idea.

  He watched as she drew closer. Didn’t pretend not to. He didn’t smile. She wasn’t convinced that was his style, but something about the way he stared—all intense and moody—had her involuntarily swallowing.

  She stopped across the table from him. “You’re back.”

  “Couldn’t stay away.”

  That almost sounded like flirting. “You had one cup of coffee and we hooked you.”

  “Three.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Three cups.” He tapped the menu and slid it toward her. “And I’ll take another.”

  Okay, nothing weird about that. People drank coffee. Hell, she drank coffee. But she didn’t get all dressed up and drive out of her way to get it. “Be right back.”

  A half hour later he put down his mug and got up and walked toward the window. The sight of him pulling back the dainty white curtain made her smile. A look—from his black watch to the sprinkling of dark hair on his bare arm to the rolled-up sleeve of his white dress shirt—had her strangely breathless. He’d abandoned the jacket almost immediately but there was nothing casual about him. Even without the tie he looked in command . . . almost predatory.