Trust No One (5 page)

In the locker room she gingerly patted on concealer to hide the black eye. She wanted to help at the front counter today, see if she could catch a glimpse of who was tailing her and while she normally didn’t wear make-up, Tex would never let her work the front with a black eye.

At work, Tex stood under a Nissan on the lift, in the middle a brake job, when a truck she didn’t recognize drove up. MJ went outside to greet the driver, her eyes narrowing on the faded red beat up Ford F150 truck. She turned her attention to the unknown man as he stepped out of the cab. His presence demanded nothing less.

It was nothing he did and nothing he said, since he hadn’t yet uttered a word. But he held himself with a sense of command and confidence not present in most people. This man had been trained. He was the one. Her muscles stiffened, readying for action.

Who exactly was he? Why had he been in her apartment?

Experienced at hiding her reactions, she kept herself from frowning as she ignored the urge to demand answers. She’d know what he wanted soon enough.

She calmly pulled the shop rag from her back pocket and wiped her hands, all the while scrutinizing him with a carefully casual look. She couldn’t ignore his handsome face with large almond-shaped brown eyes shining with intelligence.

Those eyes...she narrowed her gaze, tilted her head ever so slightly to the right. The unusual shape of them. She had a chilling sense of déjà vu, but no reason for it immediately came to mind.

Still, those distinctive eyes, the shape of his face, along with olive skin, and luxuriously thick, black hair suggested a middle-eastern descent. Well-worn blue jeans hugged his lean hips, and a single-pocket dark green t-shirt hugged his frame, revealing a well-defined chest, outlined by an unbuttoned jean jacket to ward off the chill in the air. She acknowledged a purely female appreciation for his body, his very maleness. But she resisted the urge to look him over again, knowing he would notice.

His clothes mirrored what most of the men in town wore, and were calculated, she bet, in an attempt to fit in as a local. And while his tactic might work in some towns, in Whiddon she held the advantage of knowing everyone, either by name, or at the very least by sight. She didn’t know this man.

“How can I help you?” MJ didn’t want to alert him too soon she was on to him, because frankly, she wasn’t sure what she was on to exactly. What could he possibly want with her? Was he sent from Vista or someone more sinister from her past?

His gaze scanned her; and though his eyes remained every bit as impassive as she knew hers were, she also knew he took in every detail with his brief look. Her body knew it too, and her nerve endings vibrated. Unexpected reaction. Unwanted.

Again, something about him seemed familiar, and her body seemed to recognize it though she couldn’t bring the circumstance to mind. Had she met him? Or just seen him somewhere in her past?

“Tire’s going flat.” He pointed to the left rear tire which did look as if it were sinking into the pavement. “The leak’s getting worse. I filled it earlier this morning.”

More than likely he’d sabotaged the tire himself as an excuse to stop. “Pull it into the open bay,” MJ directed. “I’ll check it for you.”

Keeping a watch on him, she threw the lever to lift the rack. Her skill with the impact wrench made short work of the lug nuts and in less than two minutes she pulled the tire and tossed it into a tank of dirty soapy water, looking for tell-tale air bubbles.

“Yep, there it is.”

He leaned over the water tank to look, but way too close, so close his shoulder brushed against hers. A move meant to intimidate. She held her ground.

“There’s a small hole here.” She pointed to tire through the neat little column of floating bubbles. “But no sign of a nail. Must’ve fallen out.” Yeah, right.

“Can you fix it?” he asked, nothing in his tone or actions indicating he played a part in puncturing the tire.

She met his innocent gaze. He was good. Or maybe she was paranoid. Seeing danger where there was none. It happened to long time operatives. Even after they left the business.

After all, there was nothing suggesting this handsome stranger with the flat was anything other than he appeared.

Just because someone had broken into her apartment.

And someone had been watching her.

And her instincts screamed otherwise.

Paranoid or not, she learned a hard lesson about trust not too long ago. A lesson she wouldn’t forget.

She hefted the tire out of the water tank, plopped it on the workbench. “Passing through town?” she asked as if making conversation, but in reality probing to find out what the hell he was doing here.

“You always ask your customers that?”

Defensiveness. She was on the right track. Most people would answer the casual question without a second thought.

“Only the strangers.”

“You think I’m a stranger?”

“Either that, or you just moved here. And I figure if you just moved here, Cindy at the Lamplighter Apartments would have already spread it over town.”

“What if I rented a house?”

“None for rent.”

“Bought one then?”

“Julie at the realtor’s office–”

“Would have spread it over town,” he finished for her. “I take it you know everyone in town.”

“Pretty much. It’s a small town.” She finished plugging his tire and reached for the air hose. The air compressor kicked on while she filled the tire. The loud noise burst through the stall.

“You’re good at that,” he said when silence reigned again.

She noted the subject change. “Nothing to it.”

“What’s it like being a mechanic?”

“It’s a job like any other.”

“Doesn’t being a woman mechanic in such a small town garner a few strange looks, maybe a few snide comments? At least raise some eyebrows.”

“You so nosey with every mechanic who works on your truck?” she asked pointedly, echoing his earlier answer to her question.

Even as she knew he caught her not-so-subtle dig, he smiled, a damned lethal smile that about made her swallow her tongue. Another unexpected reaction. Unwanted, she reminded herself. Just been without sex too long, she told herself and forced her mind back to business.

In grim silence, she jerked the tire off the workbench and hauled it to his truck, never mind it would’ve been easier to roll it. She lined the tire up with the bolts and tightened the lug nuts in record time, aware of him watching her every move. She dropped the lever to lower the truck back to the ground.

“That’ll be ten bucks,” she said, smearing the dirt from her hands onto her shop rag.

He followed her to the cash register inside the small air-conditioned office.

“Quality work, prompt friendly service. Ten dollars is a bargain.” He handed her a twenty from his wallet. “I have one more question for you.”

She pulled a ten from the cash drawer. “Finally.” She handed him his change.

“Finally?”

She narrowed her gaze. “You’re finally going to tell me what the hell you’re doing here.”

“I had a leaking–”

“Cut the bullshit. You’ve been following me for two days.”

His innocent look fell away. She walked around the counter to face him.

“Jeff said you were good,” he said, referring to the Vista boss.

“I was the best, honey. And I’m still good enough to break your knee if you don’t start talking.” One quick snap of her foot, and he’d be howling on the floor.

“Think so? Maybe I’m not so bad myself.”

She twisted her lips in a semblance of a smile. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be here bugging me. What’d you do to get on Jeff’s bad side?”

“I’d laugh at your obvious joke, but I don’t find it amusing.”

“Who said I was joking? I’ll make it easy for you. Who are you, and what do you want?”

Surprisingly, he stayed quite calm. He leaned on the counter, propping himself on an elbow.

“Name’s Ben Walker. You’re right. Jeff sent me. Can we talk over lunch?”

“Nope.” No way would she miss lunchtime with her daughter.

The look on his face said he’d expected her to be uncooperative. “Coffee then?” he asked. “Right now is fine.”

“No coffee. But ‘right now is fine’ is right. Spit it out, Mr. Walker. And don’t waste your breath. If Jeff wants me to do something for Vista, I’m retired. Out of the business. A real lady of leisure now.”

He rubbed his hand on his chin, drawing her gaze to his lips. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Happily playing mommy.”

She bristled at the faint bitterness she heard in his voice. There was no crime in being a mother. “What I’m doing with my life is none of your business.”

“Now, unfortunately, you’re wrong. Jeff made it my business.”

She was tired of the back and forth obscure references. It somehow reminded her of foreplay. Something she definitely didn’t want to have on her mind, especially with the good-looking man standing in front of her.

“Just what is it you think you can dangle over my head, Mr. Walker, to make me give a damn about what you have to say?”

“Your sister.”

His answer was so unexpected it took her a heartbeat to gather her thoughts. “I don’t have-”

“Tasha.”

“Has she been captured?”

He shook his head.

“Injured?”

“No.”

That only left. . . Dread tightened MJ’s stomach, but she made herself ask anyway. “Is she dead?”

This time another headshake before he said, “Not yet.”

Thoughts of breaking his knee tantalized her more each moment. “Just what the hell is ‘not yet’ supposed to mean?”

He jerked a small envelope out of the side pocket on his jacket, thrust it toward her. When she made no move to take it, he reached across the counter, took her hand and slapped the envelope onto her palm.

His touch scorched her, a totally unexpected reaction, not unlike brushing against a boiling radiator. She resisted the urge to jerk away, but her gaze collided with his before she could stop herself. The touch affected him, too; maybe it didn’t burn him, but awareness glowed in the depths of his eyes.

Damn.

Time hung still until he finally stepped back. “There’s a card in there with my cell number. I’m not going to discuss Tasha here, so call me when you can talk.”

She squinted at the envelope. “Why’d you put your card in an envelope?”

“There’s a present in there for you, too.”

MJ stared hard as he walked off, unable to avoid noticing his tight butt outlined by the soft faded blue jeans made the backside view every bit as tempting as the front. When he climbed into his truck and put it into gear, she turned her attention to the envelope. She wasn’t going to-

Oh, hell, why not. She lifted the flap. At first she only saw his card, but once she pulled it out of the way she saw the
present
.

The string from her door.

She blinked in surprise. The smart ass.

She ripped up the card, dropped it in the wastebasket, then folded the flap back over to hold the string in place and slid the envelope into her coverall pocket. It’d save her from having to get another string of the same color when she went back to her apartment.

She didn’t admit to herself the least bit of curiosity about Tasha. The two had spent enough years living in the same household that MJ knew the woman could take care of herself. And if it was something important enough for Vista to send an agent, then he wasn’t going anywhere until he delivered his message.

She pushed open the door connecting the office to the garage. And just like the swinging door closing behind her as she stepped over to her work area, MJ mentally swung the door closed on the encounter, and her unwanted reaction, with Mr. Ben Walker.

* * *

A week earlier:

“Ah, baby, that’s it . . . just a little . . . um, yeah . . .” he urged. His low ragged moan changed to a satisfied growl. Sweat droplets beaded around his receding, yet still dark hairline. If he opened his eyes to look at her on top of him he would think she was enjoying herself as well. Tasha slid her lips into a sexy smile to hide her revulsion.

Crumpled satin sheets clung in damp patches around her knees. Her muscles quivered like a lioness ready to pounce. She cautioned herself to wait, knowing the outcome of this planned encounter, even if he didn’t. To temper her impatience she brought to mind the refrain from “Another One Bites the Dust,” letting it run through her head in a slow easy beat.

“You like it when I do this?” Tasha increased her rhythm in time to music only she heard; faster, harder, squeezing him with her inner muscles, bringing him to the edge, denying him.

He grabbed her hips with his bony, surprisingly strong hands, trying to buck his way deeper inside, and her resistance changed the sex into a struggle for dominance. How fitting that this time
she
wielded the power, and he would lose.