Keeping Watch: Heart of the Night\Accidental Bodyguard (40 page)

But Bill Jr. was more concerned about the giant blocking the front entrance of the shop than Faith’s complaints. “It’s thirty-five bucks for the tow,” he mumbled. “I can’t release it until somebody pays the fee.”

“You just said you didn’t tow it.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t have to pay for it.” Maybe the fact he never looked her straight in the eye made her doubt his sincerity. “The guy charged me thirty-five bucks.”

“Some favor.” The fear of being stranded and at the mercy of any more close calls like a mystery driver in a runaway truck fed her frustration. “What’s the name of the garage in Beaverton?” she demanded. “This whole thing sounds like a scam to me. Are you sure you weren’t driving? Maybe you’re making up this whole blackmailing, good-neighbor story because you nearly ran me down and you’re afraid of losing your license.”

Jonas, standing off to the side with his hands hooked into the front pockets of his jeans, filled the doorway from frame to frame. His silver-dusted hair brushed the crown of the open archway and his tan leather work boots were rooted to the concrete floor. But no matter how casual his stance might be, his imposing size and grim countenance gave the impression he was unhappy about not only putting her up for the night, but chauffeuring her back to town.

Bill Jr. wasn’t the only one unnerved by Jonas’s brooding silence. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his tan coveralls and shifted on his feet.

While Faith took perverse comfort in the fact Jonas hadn’t tried to charm or befriend her and ask curious questions, she was beginning to wonder why he hadn’t. How could a man chew her out for talking too much in the morning, then turn around and dive in front of a speeding truck to save her life? What peculiarities made a man defy the local authorities, open up his home to a stranger and then raise a stink about thank-yous and paybacks? It was a strange code of honor Jonas Beck lived by, the tenets of which Faith was certain were inviolate.

The man drove her nuts, frightened her and fascinated her by turns. He wielded that big hunting knife with the finesse of a killer and had the strength to break her in two. Yet she’d caught herself sneaking peeks at the controlled power of those very same hands on the steering wheel as they drove into town, and remembered with vivid detail their shielding, possessive grasp on her as they tumbled down into the ditch. What would those hands be like as they held a woman in the throes of passion? What would they be like clasped around the neck of her enemies?

And did any of it really matter? As soon as she had her car, she’d be moving on. Before Sheriff Prince and his friend-in-need act could alert the Saint Louis police or the FBI or anyone else of her whereabouts. Jonas Beck, reclusive man of the mountain, would simply be another less-than-friendly chapter in the bizarre nightmare of the past two days.

She’d seen a man die. She’d cost a friend her life. A security guard was dead. Her uncle and grandmother were missing and she’d nearly been flattened like a pancake. She had a disk to protect, a name to find and an unspoken promise to keep. She should worry less about Jonas’s snarly moods and sexy hands, and worry more about her own survival.

“Were you driving that truck?” Faith prompted, drawing on what reserves of energy she had left.

But Bill Jr. chomped his gum and refused to look her in the eye.

“Answer her.” Jonas took one step into the garage and the teen shot to attention. Then he doubled up in a fit of coughing. Had he swallowed his gum?

As annoyed as she was that two words from Jonas could accomplish what a tirade from her could not, the intimidation factor worked. As soon as the boy recovered, he started talking.

“No, sir. The man drove in early this morning, just like I said, and left the car. Said he was saving me a trip up the mountain and charged me thirty-five bucks. He said to be sure the little lady paid me back.”
Little lady?
How far back into the hills had she traveled? “Look, I got a pump out back. I can fill it up for you if that’s all it needs.” He backed off a step when he raised his gaze to Jonas again. “But it’ll still cost you thirty-five dollars for the tow. Otherwise, Dad’ll have my hide for paying it.”

Faith squeezed the purse at her hip in fists of frustration. Thirty-five dollars might as well be thirty-five thousand. Probably because she’d run from the police in Saint Louis, her credit cards had been canceled. And when she’d tried to get cash in Scottsbluff, Nebraska, the ATM ate her bank debit card. She forced a smile onto her face. This boy was in a bit of trouble himself. Maybe he’d give her a break. “Would you take a check?”

Surely, by the time the draft cleared, she’d have this mess straightened out. It didn’t feel like a sure thing, though.

Bill Jr. confirmed it. “I can’t take an out-of-state check.”

“But—”

“Your plates say Missouri.”

“Here.” Jonas intervened, thrusting a handful of cash at the young mechanic. “Here’s thirty-five to get the car out of hock.” The teen’s eyes swelled as Jonas unfolded more bills from the wad of cash in his money clip. Faith’s eyes rounded, too. Where did Jonas get that kind of cash? “And another forty to put gas in the tank and drive it back to my cabin. And I wouldn’t recommend handing out any more money to strangers.”

“Sounds like good advice, Beck.” Sheriff Prince sauntered through the doorway, his face wreathed in a good-ol’-boy smile as he tipped his hat to Faith. “Ma’am. I’m glad I caught you.” She hoped that was just an unfortunate choice of words. As she shifted to face him, he nodded at a point over her shoulder. “You take your thirty-five dollars and run along now, Billy. I’ll handle this.”

Bill snatched the cash from Jonas and dashed into the office adjoining the garage. Faith hadn’t realized what a big man Hamilton Prince was. Portly rather than muscular, he carried an air of authority that said he ran this town. Elk Point was his kingdom. She was not only a peon, she was an outsider. And despite his benevolent expression, his hand rested on his holster.

Whether the warning was intentional or not, Faith hugged her arms in front of her and retreated.

And nearly laughed with crazy relief when she bumped into Jonas. Sheriff Prince might be big, but he wasn’t even in the same class.

There was something at once confining and reassuring, knowing there was a solid wall of man standing right behind her. There was no escaping her position now. But then, maybe she didn’t want to. She could feel Jonas’s breath lightly stir her hair. And she was warmed by his abundant heat. It was a good thing, too. Her knees couldn’t seem to stop shaking and her skin was a sea of goose bumps.

“Did you need something from me, Sheriff?” she asked, gathering her composure.

He shrugged. “‘Fraid you’re gonna have to enjoy our hospitality for a bit longer. I got a wire this morning. I have to hold that car as evidence. Seems the woman it’s registered to isn’t just dead. The Feds say—”

“She was stabbed to death.” If Prince wanted to make casual conversation out of Liza’s senseless murder, she wasn’t about to oblige him. Anger and grief battled inside her. “Liza Shelton was a good friend of mine. I haven’t even come to grips yet with the fact that she’s gone. She was funny and outrageous and the most generous woman I’ve ever met. Is that what you want to know? She loaned me her car, and a few hours later I see a federal agent on the news talking about her death.”

Faith swiped her fingers through her hair and caught them at the side of her neck, hugging herself even tighter. “She was fine when I talked to her yesterday morning. She was alive and happy and eager to make the acquaintance of a cute guy who lives in her building. I borrowed her car. I gave her mine. I didn’t kill her.”

“I didn’t say you did.” The sheriff tilted his head and nodded, doing a poor job of acting as if the accusation hadn’t already crossed his mind. “It’s funny, though, the FBI getting involved in a local homicide. Must be something more going on. Can you prove you didn’t steal this car? And how come you’re running so hard and so fast to get away from your
good friend’s
murder?”

Faith didn’t know whether to slap that patronizing smirk off his mouth or burst into tears. “I didn’t kill her.”

“Well maybe, since she had
your
car, somebody thought they were killing you.” She felt light-headed at the possibility that Liza’s death had been a case of mistaken identity. It went down about as well as the idea she’d been murdered in retaliation for helping Faith escape.

She fought through the haze in her brain to say something to defuse the sheriff’s speculations. “Why would someone want to kill me?”

“Why don’t we go over to my office and relax while we wait for the Feds to arrive,” Prince offered. “Maybe they want an answer to that question, too.”

“The Feds?”

The sheriff nodded. “They said they’re sending someone to follow up on my lead.”

No. She had to leave. Going with the sheriff meant surrendering her freedom. It meant losing what little chance she had left to find out the truth. She had to find Darien Frye and give him the disk and get her life back. “I can’t—”

“Do you have a warrant, Sheriff?” Faith’s breath rushed out on a startled gasp as Jonas’s heavy hand settled over her shoulder. “A subpoena for her testimony?”

“I…” Put off only for a moment, the sheriff rebounded with an all-knowing smile. “You’re looking mighty chummy there, Beck. She an old friend of yours? Now that
would
make me curious.”

Her panic dulled beneath the support of Jonas’s hand and the blatant challenge in his voice. “Are
you
conducting an ongoing investigation that involves Miss Monroe?”

Faith let her hand slide down her neck. She latched on to Jonas’s hand, not yet realizing the significance of turning to him for security and comfort. But the sheriff’s gaze zeroed in on the tangible connection. “It sounds like the Feds might.”

“Then the Feds can come ask her questions.” Keeping his hand linked to hers, Jonas pulled her into step beside him and steered her out of the garage. “We’re out of here.”

Chapter Four

“Where are we going? Your car’s back there.”

Jonas didn’t answer. Faith trotted along beside him in double-time to keep up with his long strides as they passed by the brick facades of antique shops and souvenir stores. Right now, he needed distance and time between them and the enemy. He couldn’t think of the sheriff in any other way. Prince knew something about Faith. Some damn secret that could get her into a lot of trouble.

And she was definitely in trouble.

For a few conscientious seconds back in that garage, he’d tried not to care about her trouble. She was stranded. She was broke. She was dirty and exhausted. He’d tried not to react to the sweet curve of her rump brushing against his thighs. But leaning into his stomach and chest had been a purely innocent, maybe subconscious, plea for help. And while he could control his emotions and ignore his libido, his training had leaped to the fore.

Jonas refused to question how easy it had been for him to slip into protective mode with her. The idea of having feelings—protective or sexual or otherwise—for this young, ingenuous woman was too dangerous for him to dwell on.

Yet here he was, paying her debts, going toe-to-toe with Hamilton Prince—and touching her—because she needed a champion.

“You can let go of me now.” She released his hand and pulled away, dropping a step behind.

Jonas clamped his fingers around her upper arm and hauled her back to his side. “What the hell is going on with you?” he demanded. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you are?”

“Don’t cuss.” She shoved a fist at him. It was a halfhearted wallop that bounced off his shoulder. “I don’t think I’m the problem here. You’re the one dragging me down the street.”

“Do you know something about that murder? Because someone sure as hell knows a lot about you,
little lady.
Any clue how a stranger from another town knew that car belonged to you?”

She froze for an instant. Her eyes widened like saucers. And then she smacked him for real. “Let go of me.”

For a mouthy bundle of femininity who didn’t even reach his shoulders, she was one hell of a handful. Suddenly she was all arms and legs and twisting hips. A sure sign of desperation. Jonas didn’t want to hurt her. But he had to protect himself. Protect her. He had to get her quiet and out of sight before anyone questioned what was going on.

He picked her right up off the ground, pinning her arms between them, and carried her into an alleyway between two buildings. He backed her up against the brick wall and hugged her tight to his chest, absorbing her struggles into the ample strength of his body.

“Faith. Faith!” He tried to reason with her, but she wasn’t listening. “I know I’m not wearing a badge anymore, but I’m not the bad guy here. If you run from me, Prince’ll pick you up and slap you in a cell so fast you won’t have time to catch your breath, much less explain whether you’re innocent or not.”

Her struggles ceased instantly. She was afraid. As afraid of whatever pursued her as she’d been of him last night in the storm. They stood there for several moments, the only sounds were stuttered gasps for air as they caught their breaths. Jonas didn’t dare move, in case this surrender was a decoy to gain her freedom. He held her still, in what might have passed for an embrace to any curious onlooker. Her fingers splayed against his chest, his hands cradled her neck and back, his hips pinned hers against the wall.

For one dangerous moment, his body reacted as if this
was
a real embrace. She was firm and round in his hands, not skin and bones. She was soft and yielding in every place that was hard and yearning on him. His mind might be warning him to keep his distance, but his body was begging him to seize the temptation of the proud, pert breasts that branded his chest, or the cradle of full, succulent hips that framed so perfectly within his own.

But it wasn’t real. Innocence—even Faith’s frustrating, seductive version of it—no matter how tightly he held it in his arms, would never be his.