In Your Corner
Page 43
Ray clenches his jaw. “I’ll take Penny home and tomorrow we’re all gonna have a little discussion about taking me with you when you go to dangerous areas of town.”
Penny frowns. “Does this mean the wine bar is out?”
“You don’t have to look out for us, Ray.” I fold my arms, matching Jake’s posture, although without the rippling muscles, fierce scowl, or twitching biceps. “But I forgive your stomping and growling because I know this is your way of saying you care.”
“My job is to look out for you when your man’s not around.” Ray reaches into the car and grabs Penny’s handbag. “I’m sure he’ll be lining you up soon as we’re gone.”
“How about we stop at the wine bar first?” Penny says. “I’m kinda thirsty.”
“I thought you were a PI, not a bodyguard. And, he’s not my man. He’s…a friend. Like you.”
Ray snorts a laugh and glances over at Jake. “A friend does not go f**king crazy when he thinks his woman is in danger. A friend does not need to be physically restrained from tackling any warm-bodied male within a one-mile radius of his woman’s vehicle. A friend gets irritated, worried, and mildly annoyed. Like me.”
I look up and catch Jake’s gaze. He appears calm, cool, and collected if not mildly annoyed. Definitely a friend.
As soon as they’re gone, Jake opens the passenger door and gestures me inside. “Get in.”
“Hello to you too.” I pause on the sidewalk. “But this is my car. I’ll drive.”
Jake clamps a hand on my shoulder. “I’m driving.”
“Oh come on.” I wiggle free and take a step away. “We’re a long way from the eighteenth century.”
“Don’t push me right now.”
For the first time since we arrived to find him at my vehicle, I look at him. Really look at him. Pulse pounding in his neck, body tense, mouth drawn into a thin line, eyes narrow. Maybe more than mildly annoyed. Definitely not in a mood to be pushed.
“Okay.” I give an exaggerated sigh and slide into the passenger seat. A few minutes later, we are speeding through the city streets in the wrong direction.
“Where are we going?”
“Don’t talk.”
A chill forms in the air between us and a sliver of resentment works its way into my chest.
“I’m not liking this bossy new you.” I twist my bracelet around my wrist. “First, you crash my interview. Then, you commandeer my vehicle. Now, you’re telling me to shut up.”
“Please, baby…” His voice cracks, and I can see from the white knuckles gripping my steering wheel and the firm set of his jaw, he is right on the edge. Resentment shifts to wariness and I shrink back in my seat.
“Okay. I get it. You’re angry. Although I think you’re totally overreacting.”
We drive in silence for another five minutes. Suddenly, Jake makes a sharp turn and pulls into a dark, narrow alley.
“Get out.”
My heart goes into overdrive. The alley is barely wide enough to allow us to open our car doors and the only light comes from the street behind us, a dim, yellow glow that stretches the car’s shadow far into the darkness. An empty Dumpster clings to the slimy brick wall and the ground is littered with debris.
“I don’t want to be here.”
He exits the vehicle, then stalks around the hood and tugs open my door. “Out.”
“Jake…”
“Last time, baby.”
His term of endearment gives me the courage to get out of the car. I tell myself he’s not really angry. Maybe just concerned and, perhaps a tad worried. The sweet, sensitive part of him is still there—the part that helped me fix up the house and finish my push-ups, the part that has sacrificed everything to help his family.
After I step out of the vehicle, he slams the door closed and stalks up and down the alley. Finally he thumps his fist on the Dumpster lid, sending a boom of thunder through the dank space. As he closes the distance between us, I fight the urge to pull out my cell phone and call for help. This is Jake. He would never hurt me.
“Why didn’t you wait for Ray?” He looms over me. “Or call me?”
“Families live on that street, Jake, and we weren’t planning on taking a long walk through the neighborhood. We went in, interviewed the witness, and came out. And I had my pepper spray. I didn’t go unprepared.”
“It isn’t a safe area of town. You could have been hurt.”
My stomach clenches. “It’s no more dangerous than Ghost Town, and I’ve been alone there lots of times.”
“And look what happened the last time you were there…”
Tensing, I hold up my hand. “Don’t go there. Not right now, when we’re both annoyed and liable to say the wrong thing.”
“Fuck.” He pounds his fist on the brick wall. “Fuck. The thought of you in danger…it was too f**king much.”
“Jake…” I touch his forearm and he jerks his hand away.
“I thought you were going to die in that alley outside Hellhole.” His voice rises to a shout and he leans in toward me. “I thought I would lose you without really ever having had you at all.”
“I understand you were worried, but you don’t need to be so angry.” I press my hands against his chest and push, but he’s too big and too heavy, and if he even notices my efforts, he gives no sign. Instead, he continues to rant, and finally, I snap.
Penny frowns. “Does this mean the wine bar is out?”
“You don’t have to look out for us, Ray.” I fold my arms, matching Jake’s posture, although without the rippling muscles, fierce scowl, or twitching biceps. “But I forgive your stomping and growling because I know this is your way of saying you care.”
“My job is to look out for you when your man’s not around.” Ray reaches into the car and grabs Penny’s handbag. “I’m sure he’ll be lining you up soon as we’re gone.”
“How about we stop at the wine bar first?” Penny says. “I’m kinda thirsty.”
“I thought you were a PI, not a bodyguard. And, he’s not my man. He’s…a friend. Like you.”
Ray snorts a laugh and glances over at Jake. “A friend does not go f**king crazy when he thinks his woman is in danger. A friend does not need to be physically restrained from tackling any warm-bodied male within a one-mile radius of his woman’s vehicle. A friend gets irritated, worried, and mildly annoyed. Like me.”
I look up and catch Jake’s gaze. He appears calm, cool, and collected if not mildly annoyed. Definitely a friend.
As soon as they’re gone, Jake opens the passenger door and gestures me inside. “Get in.”
“Hello to you too.” I pause on the sidewalk. “But this is my car. I’ll drive.”
Jake clamps a hand on my shoulder. “I’m driving.”
“Oh come on.” I wiggle free and take a step away. “We’re a long way from the eighteenth century.”
“Don’t push me right now.”
For the first time since we arrived to find him at my vehicle, I look at him. Really look at him. Pulse pounding in his neck, body tense, mouth drawn into a thin line, eyes narrow. Maybe more than mildly annoyed. Definitely not in a mood to be pushed.
“Okay.” I give an exaggerated sigh and slide into the passenger seat. A few minutes later, we are speeding through the city streets in the wrong direction.
“Where are we going?”
“Don’t talk.”
A chill forms in the air between us and a sliver of resentment works its way into my chest.
“I’m not liking this bossy new you.” I twist my bracelet around my wrist. “First, you crash my interview. Then, you commandeer my vehicle. Now, you’re telling me to shut up.”
“Please, baby…” His voice cracks, and I can see from the white knuckles gripping my steering wheel and the firm set of his jaw, he is right on the edge. Resentment shifts to wariness and I shrink back in my seat.
“Okay. I get it. You’re angry. Although I think you’re totally overreacting.”
We drive in silence for another five minutes. Suddenly, Jake makes a sharp turn and pulls into a dark, narrow alley.
“Get out.”
My heart goes into overdrive. The alley is barely wide enough to allow us to open our car doors and the only light comes from the street behind us, a dim, yellow glow that stretches the car’s shadow far into the darkness. An empty Dumpster clings to the slimy brick wall and the ground is littered with debris.
“I don’t want to be here.”
He exits the vehicle, then stalks around the hood and tugs open my door. “Out.”
“Jake…”
“Last time, baby.”
His term of endearment gives me the courage to get out of the car. I tell myself he’s not really angry. Maybe just concerned and, perhaps a tad worried. The sweet, sensitive part of him is still there—the part that helped me fix up the house and finish my push-ups, the part that has sacrificed everything to help his family.
After I step out of the vehicle, he slams the door closed and stalks up and down the alley. Finally he thumps his fist on the Dumpster lid, sending a boom of thunder through the dank space. As he closes the distance between us, I fight the urge to pull out my cell phone and call for help. This is Jake. He would never hurt me.
“Why didn’t you wait for Ray?” He looms over me. “Or call me?”
“Families live on that street, Jake, and we weren’t planning on taking a long walk through the neighborhood. We went in, interviewed the witness, and came out. And I had my pepper spray. I didn’t go unprepared.”
“It isn’t a safe area of town. You could have been hurt.”
My stomach clenches. “It’s no more dangerous than Ghost Town, and I’ve been alone there lots of times.”
“And look what happened the last time you were there…”
Tensing, I hold up my hand. “Don’t go there. Not right now, when we’re both annoyed and liable to say the wrong thing.”
“Fuck.” He pounds his fist on the brick wall. “Fuck. The thought of you in danger…it was too f**king much.”
“Jake…” I touch his forearm and he jerks his hand away.
“I thought you were going to die in that alley outside Hellhole.” His voice rises to a shout and he leans in toward me. “I thought I would lose you without really ever having had you at all.”
“I understand you were worried, but you don’t need to be so angry.” I press my hands against his chest and push, but he’s too big and too heavy, and if he even notices my efforts, he gives no sign. Instead, he continues to rant, and finally, I snap.
