Say No To Joe? (10 page)

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Authors: Lori Foster

BOOK: Say No To Joe?
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The little lady wanted him, but it scared her.
He
scared her. And for a woman like Luna, fear was unacceptable.
He'd ease her into things, Joe decided. That is, if he could keep himself in check. It wouldn't be easy if she kept being so grumpy and teasing and sexy. He leaned back and closed his eyes. “Say goodbye, Zane.”
“Goodbye. And don't forget to check in once you're in North Carolina.”
“We'll call,” Luna promised. “Thanks for everything, Zane.”
“No problem.” He stepped back. “Let us know if you need any help with the kids, okay?”
“I will.” She put the truck in gear.
“And, Joe? Watch your back.”
Joe saluted him, and Luna pulled away. To Joe's surprise, he was sleepy. Maybe he would just rest his eyes for a little while. Luna was certainly capable of following the directions and getting them there safe and sound without his assistance.
Minutes later, Luna smiled over at Joe as he began to softly snore. His hands were over his hard abdomen, his fingers laced together. His head had slid off the pillow to slump against the door window, and the early morning sunshine glinted off the small gold hoop in his ear. His long, dark lashes softened his features, a sharp contrast to the beard shadow on his chiseled jaw and the slight kink to his once-broken nose.
Even mountains had moments of weakness, it seemed. She sighed.
Why, oh, why did that have to make him more appealing?
 
 
Given the simple clothes and shoddy residence, he'd assumed Joe Winston was broke. That assumption had to be reassessed when the expensive black muscle truck drove past the alley where he'd set up. Joe Winston was either truck poor or selective in where he spent his money. And with Joe's reputation, he'd bet it was the latter. The man didn't strike him as a fool.
With a covert attention to detail, he watched the flashy truck pass. He'd already turned off the “big ear” and removed the headphones. Good thing, too, or the rumbling of that powerful engine would have deafened him. The eavesdropping device was set to click off at any loud noise, but sometimes it wasn't quick enough to keep him from having his brain rattled.
When he'd first bought the “big ear,” it had taken him a while to figure out how to use it effectively. From a distance, it picked up the slightest whisper. But it also picked up everything else, making it difficult to use in congested areas. Luck was with him this morning, because Winston had decided to slip away with the dawn. There'd been some disruption with the waking birds, but he'd heard what he needed to hear.
So, Winston was aware of Bruno. He supposed that wasn't really a big surprise. Winston couldn't have lived so long by being an idiot. The fact that Joe knew might complicate his job, but he wouldn't let it get in his way.
Not this time.
Now that the area was clear, he stepped out of the car and went to the front to remove the phony plates and replace them with the originals. He did the same at the back of the car, then tucked both fake plates into his satchel, along with the “big ear” and an assortment of other tools. For this mission, he'd packed a stun baton that delivered five hundred thousand volts of discouragement to assailants, night-vision goggles, a supply of nonlethal ammunition and the general assortment of hand and foot restraints, both steel and nylon.
He paused for only a moment. There'd been some mention of kids. That made his stomach feel a little icy and caused him a few cramps. His conscience was so old and rusty, he sometimes doubted its existence, but he wasn't so hardened that he could discount the possible threat to kids. Hell, he didn't want any innocents caught in the crossfire, but definitely not kids.
He pressed a fist to his guts and told himself he'd just have to trust Winston to keep them out of it. He had more important issues to concentrate on, like the fact that Winston had claimed his destination. North Carolina. He glanced at his watch. Yep, he'd have to haul ass to catch up.
He left the Sebring in the alley, assuming the cops would locate it soon enough and return it to its rightful owner. If he found a minute or two, why, he'd even give them an anonymous tip. But not yet.
Before setting up this morning, he'd parked his well-used and nondescript brown sedan only a few yards away. The car was part of his necessary equipment. With a thick metal mesh screen securely fastened between the front and back seat, it served as an adequate cage for transporting captives. There were no door handles on the inside, no way to escape. Once he locked someone in back, they'd stay there until he released them. He'd be willing to bet Winston had once owned a similar vehicle.
Satisfied that all was in order, he stowed everything in the trunk, including the stupid cap he'd worn, then headed out of town. He got on 75 South, the same route he knew Winston and the woman would take. He left the window down so the humid air could keep him alert. His blond hair blew in his face, reminding him that he needed a haircut. He'd take care of that—after he took care of business.
Within twenty minutes, he caught up to the truck. They were in the slow lane thanks to towing a red Contour, and for the same reason, they were highly visible. Nice of them to make his job easier.
By all accounts, Winston was a sharp son of a bitch. But so far, he'd made one mistake after another—starting with being caught off guard several nights ago.
Unfortunately, that bitch Amelia had shown up, squawking and carrying on in a conspicuous show of concern for Winston's wellbeing, before he could make his move. Because of her, he hadn't had a chance to do his job then. But he wouldn't let another opportunity pass him by.
It didn't matter how good Joe Winston might be.
He figured he was better.
 
 
“Where the hell is this place? We've been driving for hours.”
Luna took a fortifying breath. Joe was obviously tired, uncomfortable and cranky. She felt for him, she really did, but he should try it from her position. She was fed up with his attitude, her back and neck were sore from eight hours of driving, and she wanted food. Not fast food with its greasy smell and heavy taste, but real food. Even peanut butter and jelly would do, but no way in hell could she choke down another drive-through hamburger.
Ugh.
“Not much farther,” she said through her teeth, when she really had no idea. She'd called Patricia hours ago, once she was sure it was late enough for everyone to be up. Patricia would be watching for her, but with all the stops Joe had insisted on making, she'd have to wait longer than expected. “The directions say we keep going southeast until we hit Welcome County.”
Joe pulled his gaze away from the passenger door side mirror. “Welcome County?”
“I know. Neat name, huh?” For most of the day Joe had either slept or eaten, which gave Luna little enough time to tell him about their destination. The man had an unbelievable appetite. He claimed to be making up for the days he hadn't eaten, so Luna had tried not to complain about stopping—again and again—at a variety of restaurants. She'd eaten a little herself, but she wasn't big on fast food.
“I've been there,” Joe told her. “Back when I was still a bounty hunter. I happened into a situation where I busted a couple of guys rather than just the one I'd been tracking. The other guy had an outstanding warrant, so I contacted the officials in that area. They were more than a little relieved that I'd found him. The cop in charge told me that he'd made them all look like fools by evading arrest. When they came to get him, they thanked me and invited me down to visit. I needed a break, so I took them up on their offer.”
“And spent all your time drinking and accosting the local females?”
Joe laughed. “No, smart ass. Several women tried to accost me, but I mostly spent my time fishing and boating and just lazing around. It had taken me over six weeks to catch the guy I was after, so I'd earned a break.”
“You fish?”
Joe laughed. “I tell you a great story about how I nabbed the bad guys, and that's all you notice? Yes, I fish. When I get a chance. Not that I'm an expert or anything, but I found it pretty relaxing.”
Pleased by his comments, Luna said, “Then you'll love where we're staying. The house is located on Quiet Lake. It's a little over fourteen acres, and they own it.”
It was Joe's turn to be surprised. “They own a lake?”
“Yep. I think their mom used it to support them, but their aunt told me she closed it off after she moved in.”
“But that's—” Joe glanced into the side-view mirror, fell silent, then finally said, “Look, there's a Creamy Whip. Let's get an ice cream.”
Luna rubbed her forehead. “Joe, you can't be hungry still.”
“Ice cream has nothing to do with hunger. Hell, it's ninety-two outside.” He slid a hand over her thigh, suggestively squeezing. “Aren't you hot? I know I am. A malt would really hit the spot.”
Actually, now that he'd said it, she could use some cooling down. Just being next to Joe affected her, keeping him in the forefront of her mind. “At this rate we'll never make it there, and I really want to get out of this damn truck of yours.”
“You don't think my truck is comfortable?”
She took the exit and pulled into a crowded parking lot. “I think my little Contour is much, much better. Even with your seat pulled all the way up, I barely reach the pedals.”
She expected some response, but Joe wasn't really listening to her complaints. He continued to idly stroke her leg while again looking in the side-view mirror. It finally dawned on Luna that he was watching something. Or someone.
With a gasp, she snapped, “Damn you, Joe, what are you doing?”
“Hmm? Oh, nothing. We're being followed, that's all.”
Luna gaped at him. “That's
all?
”
“I didn't want to alarm you, but yeah.” He twisted in the seat, and they both watched the road behind them as traffic went by. “He's cagey, whoever he is. He knows I'm onto him, so he kept going.”
Her temper simmered. “How does he know you're onto him?”
“Because we stopped so often.” Joe gave her a “duh” look. “I kept checking him. He was careful not to pull in behind us, but no matter how many times I made you stop, or how long I took, he always managed to be a discreet distance behind us.”
His logic awed her. “That could be a coincidence.”
Shaking his head, Joe said, “I don't believe in coincidence.”
He'd said that more than once. Luna was just tired enough, just fractious enough, to slug him in the shoulder. “You bastard.”
“Ow, hey.” He caught her wrist and pressed her hand down to his hard thigh. “Why are you attacking me?”
Luna's fingers twitched. Joe held her palm far too close to his most dominantly male parts, and he expected her to answer questions? She could feel the heat of him and the flex of rock-hard muscle. Joe could be so diabolical. But she wouldn't let him get the better of her so easily. She firmed her resolve and said, “Why the hell didn't you tell me?”
Joe looked around, making her aware of several people gazing at them. In contrast to her voice, he sounded calm and totally unaffected. “What would you have done?” He inched her hand slightly higher. “Besides getting nervous, glancing out the rearview mirror constantly and maybe causing a wreck?”
“I would not have wrecked.” But she would have been nervous. Damn him for being right. “From now on, I expect you to tell me everything.
Everything
, Joe. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, honey.” He sounded about as sincere as a brick. Luna started to tell him so when he leaned forward and took her mouth in a warm, firm kiss. Her fingers contracted on his thigh; her mouth opened without her even thinking about it.
Joe teased her bottom lip with his tongue, then lifted away the tiniest bit. Luna felt his smile against her mouth. “What's your pleasure? Besides me, I mean? Looks like they've got quite a menu here.”
He mixed sexual innuendoes in with casual conversation to the point she could barely keep up with him. Then she realized he'd released her hand, yet her fingers were still clutching his thigh, high up near his crotch. She shoved him away and did her best to ignore his triumphant laugh. “What about the guy following us?”
Joe opened his door and got out, but leaned back in to say, “I'll drive the rest of the way. He won't be able to follow.”
“But . . .”
“No buts. Now, I'm getting a large chocolate malt. Do you want one? Or should we share?” He straightened away from the door. “Let's share. I like that idea. And then you can hold the thing for me.”
He closed the door without waiting for her agreement and went to the back of the line leading to the ice cream window. His gait was stiff, but not hobbling, as it had been that morning. Perhaps the quiet, peaceful time during the drive and his off-and-on dozing had helped. He appeared to be improving by the hour.

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