Crossfire Christmas (11 page)

But he’d wait and give her that bit of news after she relaxed the death grip she still had on the wheel. “That’s some sweet driving, Peewee.”

“Thanks. That was exciting.” She glanced across the seat at him. “No. It was terrifying. My heart’s still racing. Who were those men?”

Cradling his left arm against his side, Nash reached over the center console to capture a velvety strand of coffee-colored hair that had worked free from her ponytail and smoothed it behind her ear. “Try to stay in the moment, Teresa.” He stroked his fingers along the line of her jaw, anxious to soothe the tension there. “Don’t worry about the future or the past. Allow yourself a minute to just breathe. The crisis is over. We’re safe for now. You did great.”

He knew she was finally coming out of fight-or-flight mode when she pulled his hand from her face and gave it a quick squeeze. “You’re favoring your shoulder again. Did you pull the stitches?” She waited until he sank back into his seat to crank up the heat. “You’re the one who should be relaxing. Pull the blanket over you.”

“I think that was just a little too soon for that kind of exercise.” He winced at the effort of picking up the blanket from the floorboard. She wanted answers as to why her life was being turned upside down, and he needed to talk this through before fatigue turned his brain to mush. “I’m guessing with bullets flying and a high-speed chase that we’re definitely on KCPD’s radar now.”

“Of course we are. Someone is bound to have gotten a plate number or description of the drivers. They’ll report it.”

“They’ll have your license plate number, too. And somebody we drove past might have even recognized Teresa Rodriguez.”

Her lips buzzed with a weary sigh. “I’m going to need a new car, aren’t I?”

Nash laughed. “I was going to wait and spring that one on you a little later.”

She slowed to turn onto a road that would take them to the interstate. “So what do we do next?” Teresa tapped the console between them when he asked for a pen to write down Thug One’s license plate number in his log book. “How are you going to find out who’s after you if you’re hiding? You’re not calling your boss in Houston again, are you?”

Not directly, at any rate. Yesterday he hadn’t wanted to call in any favors. But today, with Teresa’s life as well as his own on the line, he had no choice. “Do you know a place called the Shamrock Bar?”

She nodded. Her eyes were as glued to the mirrors as his had been, still looking for any signs of the SUVs returning. “It’s a cop bar downtown. I’ve been there several times. But you shouldn’t drink alcohol in your condition. And a drink is the last thing I want right now. Especially if I have to drive like that again.”

“I’m not thirsty, darlin’. I just need to see the bartender there.”

Chapter Eight

Shivering, Teresa paused at the neon shamrock in the front window of the Shamrock Bar and gazed through the glass. Inside, the window was framed with a shiny green garland and the corners had been dusted with that fake white spray snow. She’d been here before for a couple of family gatherings, a few outings with her friends and even on a pleasant-enough date with a detective who worked with AJ. But she’d never gone in specifically looking for a man to invite out to a secret rendezvous in the parking lot.

When she heard a car driving past on the street behind her, she peeked over her shoulder to see if one of the black SUVs from this morning had followed her. But as the blue car bounced over the ruts of grated, packed and melted snow on the pavement, she exhaled a puffy cloud of determination and pushed open the front door.

Jake Lonergan was easy enough to spot. There were only a few customers sipping a beer at the polished walnut bar or eating a sandwich for an early dinner at one of the tables.

Nash’s description had been simple.
He’ll be the biggest thing in there.

Teresa pulled off her gloves as the bell above the door chimed behind her. Nash was tall and carried plenty of muscle on his lanky frame. From her petite perspective, he was big. But the man setting a stack of crated glasses behind the bar was built like a Mack truck. The silver hair he wore cropped close to his scalp highlighted the scars of a tragic encounter that Nash said had cost the man a good chunk of his memory. If Nash was a wounded bear, then Jake Lonergan was a T. rex with a toothache. Even the green apron and wedding ring he wore did little to soften his beastly appearance.

Definitely the biggest thing in the room. His unsmiling bulk made him the quintessential bouncer who commanded respect and looked as though he could easily handle any customer who dared to step out of line.

And Nash said he was a friend?

Teresa shuddered in nervous anticipation rather than with the cold this time. Her heart rate hadn’t been normal since those two men had chased them from her apartment and shot up her car. She needed a nap to ease the stress. She needed to talk with one of her sisters about this emotional pull she felt toward Nash and tell AJ the truth about the man she’d saved, endangered and made a desperate deal with. She needed a chance to rethink some of the choices she’d made in the past twenty-four hours.

Her chance to walk away from Charles Nash and the nightmarish drama he’d brought to her frustratingly sheltered life was staring her right in the face. A public pay phone hung on the recessed wall between the two bathroom doors.

While Nash pulled the tags off the sheepskin-lined coat and gloves they’d bought at a thrift shop and bundled up in the car, she could walk right over there and call 911 or AJ and tell them she’d been kidnapped by an armed stranger. That she’d hidden him in her apartment. That she’d helped him escape from the men pursuing him. That her apartment had probably been ransacked and that two men who worked for a drug cartel had tried to kill her.

They’d tell her to stay put. They’d drop everything and run to her rescue. AJ would put a twenty out on her car and have this place swarming with cops in a matter of minutes. He’d tell the entire department that Nash was armed and dangerous—that he might have harmed his baby sister. There wasn’t a cop in the city who would stand by while the family of one of their own was in danger.

Nash would be arrested.

She’d be free of this nightmare.

He’d be taken to a holding cell until he was turned over to a DEA agent who might betray him...or a hit squad found him and finished the job they’d started the day before.

Charles Nash had sworn her life was in as much danger as his.

He’d promised protection in exchange for keeping his secrets and tending his wounds.

He’d kissed her.

Teresa’s tongue darted out to touch the rim of her lips. She could still feel him there. The ticklish rasp of his day-old beard against her skin. The firm pressure and unexpected warmth of his slightly crooked mouth molded against hers.

Could she really be feeling something for Nash after knowing him for so short a time? Was this dangerous attraction a lusty response to being forced into the most thrilling adventure of her life? Or was she just as foolish as her brother and sisters claimed because she was so eager to be treated as a useful adult that she mistook Nash’s need for her medical assistance and knowledge of the area as some kind of emotional connection?

Should she do this favor for Nash? Or walk over to that phone and call her family? Did she do what she thought was the right thing? Or did she do the safe thing?

“Can I help you, ma’am?” The muscle man behind the bar was talking to her.

Teresa snapped her attention away from her thoughts and focused on the icy-blue eyes watching her. Decision made. She inhaled a steadying breath. She was Nash’s partner, not his captive. She didn’t need to escape. She didn’t want to leave him to face his enemies on his own. She didn’t have to understand what she was feeling right now, either. She just had to do what was necessary to keep them both alive.

Her family was going to lock her away in a tower and throw away the key. But not yet.

Teresa threw back her hood, unzipped the top of her coat and crossed the bar to carry out her mission.

“Mr. Lonergan?” She stepped up on the brass railing beneath the bar stools to erase a fraction of the difference between their heights and thrust her arm over the top of the bar. “I’m Teresa Rodriguez.”

Jake eyed her hand but didn’t immediately take it. “Ms. Rodriguez. I’ve seen you around. You any relation to Detective AJ Rodriguez?”

“He’s my brother.”

He nodded as if the familial connection made her presence acceptable and finally shook her hand. “How’s he doin’? I don’t see him in here much now that he’s got those boys to raise.”

“AJ’s fine. I just saw my nephews this morning. The whole family is well. I’m actually here to talk to you about another friend of yours.” She glanced at the lush sitting closest to her, his chin propped in his hand, his leering stare indicating he would have liked to make her acquaintance, too.

But a sharp look from Jake, and the young man turned his curiosity up to the television hanging over the end of the bar.

Jake pulled a towel from his apron and a glass from the top crate to dry it. “I don’t have that many friends.”

“This one’s an old friend from Houston.” Jake set the glass on a shelf below the bar and reached for another one, his expression revealing nothing but polite patience. She hurried to recount the message Nash had given her. “He said to tell you that he’s the only man from your past who cares that you don’t remember him.”

That earned her a chuckle. “Charlie Nash.”

“You
do
know him.” She smiled with relief that he understood the coded message. “He said to tell you he knows you’re not in the business anymore, but he’s working something big and needs to call in a favor from you.”

“Nash is here in K.C.?” She shushed him when the man watching television glanced their way again. Jake dropped his gruff voice to almost a whisper. “How’d you hook up with him?”

“You want to hook up with me, sweetheart?” came a slurred offer from beside her. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

Another silent warning from Jake and the dark-haired man pulled a ten-dollar bill from his shirt pocket and slapped it on the bar beside his empty glass. “I guess that’s a no. I’ll be leaving now, Miss Teresa Rodriguez. Merry Christmas.”

The man trilled all the
r
s in Teresa’s name and the greeting as if the sound amused him before staggering to his feet. He made an effort to straighten his tie before picking up the long wool coat he’d draped over the stool beside him.

“You need me to call you a cab, mister?” Jake offered.

“I’m good.” The tipsy man shrugged into his coat and started slipping his buttons into the wrong holes. He pointed to Jake and winked at Teresa. “Not as good as you’re doing, pal. But I’m good.”

Wondering if this unsettled feeling would plague her anytime a man with dark brown hair showed too much interest in her now, Teresa waited for the drunk to stumble out the door and turn his collar up against the Arctic blast. He was huddled against the front window, punching in a number on his cell phone, when she faced Jake again.

“That was weird.” She tried to laugh off the awkward discomfort she felt. “Sober, that guy might be halfway attractive if you go for the preppy type. Drunk, he’s just creepy.”

“I thought I knew everybody who came into this place,” Jake groused, indicating the nosy flirt was as much a stranger to him as he was to her. “I hope he’s calling for a ride out there.” He stowed the glass and dragged his attention back to Teresa. “Where is Nash?”

“In my car. He doesn’t want anyone to know he’s in Kansas City. Well, someone does know who shouldn’t, but...” She silenced her nervous rambling and matched Jake’s direct approach. “Will you come talk to him?”

Jake nodded, understanding this was a serious, as well as secretive, request. “Let me get Robbie in here to cover for me. I’ll be right back.”

Once Jake exited through the swinging door behind the bar, Teresa perched on a green vinyl stool and glanced furtively around her, wondering if any of the other patrons were paying as much attention to her as that man with the long coat had. The two women in the booth across the way didn’t seem to notice her. They were more interested in the two hotties shooting pool nearby. Once Teresa saw the badge hanging from a chain around one of their necks, she realized they were probably both cops.

Oh, great. Even if they weren’t on duty, they might still have been given a description of Nash or even her and her car. Turning her attention back to the door where Jake had gone, she pulled the hood of her coat around her neck and tucked her chin to her chest, hoping none of them knew AJ well enough to recognize her. When the bell over the door rang behind her, indicating more customers, possibly more cops, she hunched down even farther, willing Jake to hurry back out and help her.

She heard a low-pitched drawl behind her instead. “It’s me, Peewee. Don’t jump.”

She startled anyway at the arm that slid behind her back. She spun on her seat to face Nash as he settled on the stool beside her. “What are you doing here?” she whispered in a mild panic. “I thought you were hiding in the car where no one could see you.” At least he’d had the sense to turn up the collar of his bulky coat. She reached up to pull the red-and-gold knit cap he wore farther down over his forehead. “You shouldn’t be here. Those men at the pool table are cops. What if there’s a description out and they recognize you?”

He captured her hand against his warm cheek to mask his face. “You were taking too long. I got worried.”

“That drunk was bothering me. But Jake sent him on his way.”

“What drunk?” Nash raised his head, scanning the bar, his posture instantly on alert.

But Teresa quickly framed his jaw with both hands and pulled his focus back to her before he drew anyone’s attention. “That man by the front window with the misbuttoned coat...” When she glanced over at the shamrock sign and Christmas decorations, she saw nothing through the glass except for a few cars driving past. “Where did he go?”

“I didn’t see anyone out front.” Nash straightened, concern lining his features.

“Just look at me, okay?” She pulled his chin back to her again. “I don’t want anyone to see you.”

He leaned in and they touched foreheads, his golden eyes looking right down into hers. “Not a hardship for me, darlin’.”

In fact, he spread his knees and moved closer, resting a foot on either side of her stool and sliding a possessive hand along her thigh, turning her efforts to hide him into what probably looked like a lovers’ embrace to any curious eyes that might be watching.

It certainly felt like an embrace. She wasn’t sure if it was the compliment that warmed her, his protective posture or the levity he used to try to lessen her worry that made her actually feel like smiling. “Maybe the drunk who hit on me caught a cab. I guess he freaked me out a little bit because of those other two men shooting at us.”

“Hit on you?” Nash’s eyes narrowed above hers. He pulled away a fraction of an inch. “Was something off about this guy? Did he scare you?”

“All he did was offer to buy me a drink. Said my name in a funny way. Like I said, Jake got rid of him.” She pushed Nash’s stocking cap back from his temple to finger his short thick hair. “I guess I’m only going to be able to trust blonds and redheads now.”

“Let’s make it just one blond in particular for the next day or so, okay?”

Teresa heard the faintly possessive admonition but was frowning as she felt the dampness in his hair. There was more warmth to his skin than the pseudo embrace could account for, too. “Your fever’s getting worse. How are you feeling?”

Before he could evade her question, the door behind the bar swung open. Jake Lonergan entered, followed by an older man with curly black hair and a bushy beard.

“Charlie Nash.” Instead of putting on the coat he’d brought with him, Jake reached across the bar to her patient. “You look like hell.”

“I’m still better lookin’ than you,” Nash teased, standing up to shake hands with Jake.

Teresa rose, too, pressing the back of her knuckles against his ashy skin to gauge the warmth there. “He needs to go to the hospital, but he won’t listen to me.”

Apparently, none of these men were going to. Jake introduced them both to the bar’s owner, Robbie Nichols, a robust man who spoke with a lilting Irish brogue. “You go with your friends, Jake. I’ll take care of things here.”

Really? She wasn’t here just to look pretty and be taken care of. Hadn’t she put her life on the line, too? Hadn’t she lied to her family and taken a huge risk on a man she barely knew? These men might have a few survival skills she lacked, but she had knowledge and training neither one possessed. She tugged at the sleeve of Nash’s jacket and insisted he look at her. “You need to listen to me.”

“Later. We need to get out of sight first.” Nash covered her hand with his and nodded, at least acknowledging her concern before turning his attention to Jake. “You got a place we can talk?”