The Enforcer Page 4

  She inched a bit closer to that gun.

  “Do you get out on the water often?” His voice boomed through the café.

  Since he’d waited to get up until the last two tables left and she was the only other person in there, she assumed he was talking to her. That this was his form of small talk. Little did he know he’d found the one subject sure to make her twitchy. “Never.”

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. “You never venture out there?”

  “Technically you’re looking into the parking lot right now. I go there every day. But the water? No thank you.”

  “Really?”

  When he continued to look at her with that half-amused expression, her defenses rose a bit. “Don’t judge.”

  “It’s just odd you’d pick a job here when you don’t like the water.”

  Now he sounded like a lawyer or an investigator—her two least favorite things. “I tend to pick my work more on who will actually pay me than location.”

  “Smart.” He walked toward her, every step determined and not too fast or too slow.

  Something about him struck her as practiced and deliberate, which made his presence here for the second day in a row all the weirder. “How long are you in town?”

  “A few days, maybe more.”

  Good Lord. He needed to find another café. He set her on edge. Had her peeking over her mug at him like a silly teen and checking her windows at night for trouble.

  “For work?” she asked.

  “I have a project I’m working on.”

  The answer sounded fine at first. Then she turned the words over in her head and realized he hadn’t actually said anything. “Are you a lawyer?”

  He slid onto the barstool across from her. “Hell, no.”

  Okay, she understood that reaction. “Yeah, I’m not a fan either.” She poured herself another cup of coffee and got him a new mug for more, too.

  “Businessman.”

  “Banking?”

  He drank a sip of coffee. “I think your radar is off.”

  This guy was all about mystery. She asked a straightforward question and he responded with half sentences. She picked up on it because she used that skill often. Look at him walking all over her turf.

  “You’re a hard man to pin down.”

  “Do you want to pin me down, Kayla?”

  His deep voice brushed against her. Drew her in. She ignored it, stuck to mindless chatter. “I’m thinking no to fishing or sailing.”

  That seemed as good a way to avoid the question as any other. And that’s what she had to do because when he asked, her stomach bounced a little. She wanted to write the sensation off as indigestion, but she feared it was really excitement.

  Not going to happen.

  “Correct. I develop long-term projects. Move people in to implement work that needs to be done.”

  Uh, okay. “That barely sounds like a thing.”

  “You aren’t the first to say that. Think of me as the person who supplies the manpower to make other people’s visions a reality.”

  Still sounded made-up to her. “For the record, that description is not any clearer.”

  “It’s not very sexy.”

  She ignored the word and his face and almost everything about him and focused on the wariness bubbling inside her. “And that’s why you’re in town?”

  “Yes. I have to finish up an old issue that should have been resolved a long time ago.” He winced. “It’s not my usual project. I’m alone in an office, hence the coffee breaks.”

  He’d said a lot of words without actually giving much away. She appreciated that skill, since she’d lived her entire adult life that way so far.

  He studied her. Whatever he saw had him talking again. “Basically, I sit at a desk, read reports.”

  Before she could think twice, her gaze traveled all over him, or at least the part she could see over the counter. The impressive part that included broad shoulders and that strong chin. “You look like you spend most of the day in the gym.”

  He glanced down. “You can see that through my clothes?”

  Yes. The dress shirt fit snug enough to highlight bulges and she couldn’t spy one. “Of course not.”

  “Do you ever eat dinner?”

  She froze with her mug halfway to her mouth. It took her another minute to slowly lower it to the counter. “That’s an odd question.”

  “I was asking you on a date.”

  His gaze flicked from her hands, which had a death grip on the mug, to her mouth, which she guessed was hanging open. He was a customer, and a confusing one at that.

  She winced. “Are you sure?”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “The delivery was a bit . . . off.” She hissed to make sure he got the point.

  “We could go to dinner and talk about it.”

  Well, she had to give him points for tenacity. But that was it. Dating was out in general and this guy . . . there was something she still couldn’t get a handle on. Something that had her teetering from savoring his company to waiting for the building’s roof to fall on her head. She didn’t enjoy the out-of-control sensation at all.

  “I don’t think so.” That was the safe answer, the smart one, so she invoked it.

  “Boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Ah.” He started drinking his coffee again. Even eyed up the apple pie in the container next to him.

  He seemed to take the refusal in stride. Didn’t storm out or even go back to his table. Just sat there. Once again he had this zigging response that intrigued her even more. “I’m not sure what to say to that.”

  He shrugged. “When a guy realizes the problem is him and not some outside factor, that’s really the only response he can give.”

  Not in her experience. She’d had more than one pleasure-boat dude come on to her, and when she politely refused whatever he proposed, he’d fall back on calling her names under his breath. “Some act like complete jackasses.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “Then it’s good you turn those men down.”

  For some reason she found the conversation weirdly charming. “Problem is you don’t always know the jerks right at the beginning. Unfortunately, they don’t wear a sign.”

  “They give the jerkiness away eventually, right?”

  She thought back to another time, to a boy who turned out to be much worse than a jerk. “You’d be surprised what good actors some of them are.”

  “Dating sucks.”

  “Amen to that.” She lifted her mug in a toast. “So, do you have a name?”

  He smiled. “Matthias.”

  That wasn’t at all what she expected. She’d thought John or Tom . . . solid and short. “Really?”

  “You think I’d make that up?”

  She thought about the question for an oddly long period of time before choking out an answer. “It’s a good name. Solid.”

  “It got my ass kicked in junior high.”

  Now, that she understood. “Breathing got my ass kicked in junior high. Teen girls are rough.”

  He put out his hand. “Nice to officially meet you, Kayla.”

  She should pull away and not care. Instead she held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  The touch scorched her. She’d expected smooth, flawless hands. She got the firm grip of a workingman.

  He held on to her hand for an extra beat. “Would it sound too stalkerish if I told you I intend to keep coming back here until you change your mind about dinner?”

  It should. Any other time alarm bells would be chiming in her head. “Absolutely, yes.”

  “Then forget I said that.”

  “Done.”

  Chapter 6

  By his third day of café sitting and coffee drinking without Garrett, Matthias was having a hard time pegging Kayla as a murderer. While some hid their nature well, he didn’t get any sort of “off” vibe from her. None.

  He’d studied the files Garrett had provided and retraced every pi
ece of information he’d found on every name she’d used. Nothing about her present fit with her supposed past.

  The idea of her going wild one day, killing men who outweighed her by fifty or sixty pounds just because and then slaughtering her female friend didn’t fit with her past or her psychological profile. God knew he looked for signs, for inconsistencies in her behavior and patterns in her background.

  Nothing popped. Literally nothing.

  He was beginning to understand why the police dropped their pursuit of her. The pieces didn’t fit. She’d survived, but that seemed to be the biggest strike against her. There were rumors about love triangles and fights but she’d managed to get through the rest of her life without killing anyone else. Those urges generally didn’t just disappear in a person without something else happening.

  She had secrets. She was on the run and changing her name for a reason. He guessed she knew more than she said, and that’s where he would make his move. If he then figured out that his instincts blinked out when it came to her and she was some sort of death mistress, he’d take care of her.

  Once he mentally put her in the probably-a-witness category rather than killer category, his priorities shifted. Her not being the killer didn’t answer who did kill Nick, but she might be able to give him a clue.

  Every day he’d come in and order. They’d talk. She’d smile. He’d ask her out and she’d say no. He was starting to think he lacked game.

  “Food or just coffee?” she asked as she whizzed by his table on the way to another.

  “We’ll start with caffeine then go from there.”

  She nodded and was off. Taking an order from this group. Delivering soup to that guy. In between she smiled at everyone and talked about the weather. He liked to think she saved more interesting topics for him, but truth was this woman knew how to have a conversation without really saying a thing. She poked around by asking questions. He poked back. Neither of them learned a thing.

  It was a weird sort of dating; at least that’s how he thought of it in his head. Impersonal and without sex. He half wondered how the human race survived if men and women had to navigate this nonsense just to have dinner together. He’d stick to his solitary life, thank you.

  Without stopping she swung around to him again. Dropped off coffee and a piece of what looked like some sort of custard pie. He caught her arm just as she moved away. “I didn’t order pie.”

  “It’s on me.” She winked and left again.

  He wondered if she’d be half as friendly if she knew he’d been following her. He spent as much of the day in the café as he thought he could get away with before people might start asking difficult questions. The rest of the time he listened in from the small microphone he’d tucked up under the table where he usually sat, or watched from across the parking lot through his high-powered lens. Pushing that curtain back had made that easier. At night he sat in his car outside her studio, followed her around, though the only places she had gone so far were home, work and the grocery store.

  In just a few short days he had become a stalker, but a purposeful one. He needed intel. Needed to understand who she was so he could figure out how to ask her questions without sending her into a dead run in the opposite direction.

  He picked up his fork, prepared to stab into that piecrust, when the bell above the door dinged. He glanced up, expecting to see one of the regulars. He now knew who they were and had run facial recognition on all of them.

  Garrett stood there.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “Imagine how I feel,” he said as he slipped into the booth across from Matthias.

  He slowly lowered the fork back to the table. “Why are you here?”

  “I missed you.”

  The last thing he needed was a chaperone. “Never forget that I can shoot you and not have an ounce of remorse.”

  “Nice.” Garrett reached across the table and picked off a piece of crust then popped it in his mouth. “Wren made me come back.”

  “Your boss is a pain in the ass.”

  “You say that like it’s a surprising fact.” Garrett slid a folder across the table. “This is for you.”

  “What is it?”

  Garrett snuck a glance in Kayla’s direction. Waved to her when she caught him staring. “More on the other players. He thought it might help you.”

  “To do what?”

  “Finish your business here then get back home.” This time Garrett moved the plate closer to him and picked up the fork. “I think he’s convinced you’re going to get arrested.”

  “That’s probably not an unreasonable assumption.” Matthias figured he’d lost any chance of eating that pie. “We could get you a piece of your own.”

  “No, I’m good.” He scooped up a generous bite and ate it.

  “You came all this way to deliver this message?”

  Garrett took his time chewing and swallowing. “I have one more.”

  When he started eating again, Matthias grabbed the fork. “Tell me or I reach for a weapon.”

  “This time I’m really not allowed to leave unless you come back with me.” Garrett frowned. “And can we talk about what a shitty assignment this is for me? You’re not exactly my idea of a good time. So, feel free to wrap this up quickly.”

  He didn’t shut up. Garrett had managed to say more in five minutes than Matthias had said in three days. “What are you talking about?”

  “There are rumors you’ve lost perspective and are down here dating and generally annoying the people of Annapolis.”

  What the hell? “Where did you hear that?”

  “From me. I said it to Wren, but it backfired because now he really has assigned me to you.” Garrett touched the corner of the folder. “I do have other work, but you’d never know it.”

  Time to end this conversation. “No.”

  Garrett shrugged. “Take it up with the boss.”

  “I’m the boss.” For some reason people around here kept forgetting that. Matthias never had that trouble in his office but it seems to keep coming up now.

  “Uh-huh, sure.”

  “You’ve made your delivery, so now you can turn around and head back home.” He leaned forward and pitched his voice low. “I’m not done here.”

  “Coffee?”

  Matthias hadn’t heard Kayla approach. She’d snuck up on him with a coffeepot in her hand. No one got the jump on him. Almost no one. Certainly not like this. He was off his game and blamed Garrett’s nonstop talking. “He’s not staying.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Garrett said at the same time.

  “Anything else?” she asked as she poured.

  “How’s the tuna fish?”

  This was fucking ridiculous. “Could you excuse us for a second?” Matthias managed to hold his voice steady until she walked away. Then he turned his attention back to the annoying man in front of him. “What are you doing?”

  “Eating?” Garrett sighed. “Look, I’m not leaving until Wren gives me the okay, which means you’re stuck.”

  That would make dinner with Kayla impossible. Might cut into his daily coffee talks with her, too. Regret tugged at Matthias. About the case, of course. Not on a personal level. But damn, he did want to make that dinner thing happen.

  He needed to have a talk with Wren and look through the new information Garrett brought. As far as he could tell, he wasn’t one step closer to leaving Annapolis. Maybe a second set of eyes would help to confirm. He’d thought about setting up a small camera in here and at her house. Those sounded like good Garrett jobs. “You can stay.”

  “Yeah, I know. I just said that.”

  Matthias pretended Garrett hadn’t said anything, which was tough since he was always talking. “Just stay out of my way.”

  “Got it.” Garrett leaned back in his chair. For a few seconds he didn’t say a word.

  Matthias knew that would never last.

  Garrett picked up the fork again. “You gonna eat that pie?”

 
Later that afternoon Matthias found his way back to the café. It was near closing time. That usually meant Kayla would be leaving for her walk. She didn’t vary that routine much. She hadn’t used the same path in three days, which was smart, but the time of day and general plan didn’t waver.

  “Hey.” He called out the greeting as he walked in.

  She jerked at the sound and her head shot up. The mop she was holding dropped to the floor with a crack. “Two times in one day?”

  “I needed a break.” He bent over and grabbed the mop. Instead of giving it back, he held it. Ran it over the floor in the few places he could see she’d missed.

  “From what?”

  He sensed more poking around for information. No way was he making it easy on her. “Work.”

  “Ah, yes. The nondescript people-moving job.”

  He’d already said more than he intended, so he skipped offering up more details. “My back hurt from sitting. I thought a walk would do me some good.”

  “So you came over here from which office building . . . ?” She took the mop from him and planted it in the bucket.

  “That would be an excellent dinner topic.”

  She shook her head and laughed. “I’m impressed with your refusal to give up.”

  “You have no idea.” He could do this for weeks if he had to. He wasn’t going to, but that was out of a need to get back to work and finish this off.

  Pretty soon he’d abandon the soft approach and hit her head-on. The whole waiting-not-acting thing didn’t really work for him anyway. He tried it because Wren suggested it, though what he knew about women didn’t seem to be much. He’d stuck with it for three whole days because being with her, watching her, wasn’t exactly a hardship.

  The way she moved hypnotized him. Her calm enticed him. Everything about her compelled him.

  His instincts didn’t ping around her. Other parts of him did . . . and kept dinging. Dinged so hard that last night he’d needed a cold shower, and even that didn’t work.