Chapter 3

ChapterThree

The Rusty Nailwas a rung above the dive bar its name promised. It somehow looked like a chain; bland, with lots of cheap art on the walls and tables crammed together. Plus, it smelled like beer, fried food, and lust. College students hung out there all the time for the cute waitstaff and strong drinks. And, oddly enough, the best guacamole in town. Sherry and I loved it. When we lived together, we went at least once per week.

“Hey Giant,” she greeted me where I waited just inside the front door, sweeping me into as big a hug as she could, given she was practically half my height.

“Hey Mini,” I responded, returning the embrace, engulfing her petite body.

Sherry had changed out of her uniform, but still somehow looked official in her purple blouse with khakis and brown cowboy boots.

A waitress at a nearby table pointed to some empty tables near the back. “I’ll be right there to get your order,” she said.

“Thank you,” we called back in unison before heading the way she’d pointed, already chatting about everything and nothing. The waitress arrived fast, took our orders, and disappeared again. Once the ordered drinks arrived, Sherry’s face became serious.

“Okay, enough with the small talk. What’s going on?”

I bit my lower lip as I considered how to answer, an action not lost on her.

“Spill. Now.” Her brown eyes flashed with worry.

After sucking margarita through the plastic straw, I placed both hands flat on the scarred tabletop. “I met this guy.”

She waved her hand at me. “Your face doesn’t fit that statement.”

“He was… abrasive,” I sidestepped. It felt weird to keep the details from Sherry, but I couldn’t make the words leave my mouth. What would she think of me for becoming aroused by the morning’s alley encounter? I didn’t think she would judge me… but I thought she might go after Jax Smith herself. She’d always been protective of me. So, I gave her an abbreviated version of crashing into a man claiming to be a US Marshal, as well as the response when I called their regional office. Sherry’s icy expression when I finished was scary. I could only imagine how she’d look if I’d told her the complete story. The fact that I consented and enjoyed the encounter wouldn’t save the US Marshal.

“What name did he give?”

I didn’t miss that she asked what name he gave as opposed to his actual name; she understood he might have lied. “Jax Smith.”

Sherry closed her eyes to think. From experience, I knew she was running through her mental Rolodex of people. Her eyes popped open, and she shook her head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Damn, I had hoped… he said he was part of a task force. Wouldn’t they inform the department about a task force?”

A single shoulder lifted. “Maybe. Just because I’m not informed, doesn’t mean the department isn’t informed. Or that they are informed.”

“That’s helpful,” I said, grabbing a chip and stabbing the guacamole with it.

“What did that guac ever do to you?”

I chewed the chip, reveling in the deliciousness. Honestly, was there any better combination on the planet than a margarita with chips and guacamole?

Sherry waved her hand in front of my face. “Earth to Mel. It’s too early for a food coma.”

“Sorry.”

“No need. What did he look like?”

Another suck of margarita through the straw as an unbidden image of Jax Smith resurfaced, all mirrored sunglasses and kissable lips.

“What just went through your mind?”

Ugh, I should have known she wouldn’t miss that. “He was rather good-looking,” I admitted.

Sherry quirked an eyebrow.

“He was very tall,” I elaborated. “About a foot taller than me, I would guess.”

“Damn, he’s a real giant, then.”

“Pretty much. He honestly looked like a pro football player. Wide-ass shoulders, rippling muscles everywhere, very nice suit.”

Sherry smirked. “How exactly would you see rippling shoulders through a very nice suit?”

I flushed and sucked at more margarita. There wouldn’t be much left at this rate. “Just an educated guess from how solid he looked.”

“Fair enough.”

“Besides, I told you he was good-looking,” I protested.

“You did.” She grew serious. “But you have concerns.”

I nodded. “Since the Marshals’ office wouldn’t confirm or deny if he’s an agent, and you can’t confirm or deny either, I’m not sure how to gain any information.”

Sherry snapped her fingers. “Shit, I can’t believe I forgot.”

Eagerness swept me. “What?”

“There’s a dude looks exactly like you described at my gym over on 8th.”

“Yeah?”

“He stands out, literally and figuratively. He’s by far the biggest man in the place, plus he can bench like a zillion pounds.”

“That’s not hyperbolic or anything,” I said with a smile, snagging another chip.

“Oh, it’s totally hyperbolic, but the dude is strong.”

Excitement bloomed that I might find my target. “When do you usually see him?”

Sherry pursed her lips. “I normally go after work, and he seems to arrive as I’m leaving. Nobody ever interacts with him, so I’ve never heard him speak.”

“His voice sounds like he’s eaten gravel.”

“That’s descriptive.”

“It’s true, though. He’s the very definition of a gravelly voice.”

Sherry ate a chip.

“Oh, but wait, so what time do you normally leave the gym?”

“It varies a little, but typically about—” She checked her watch. “—now, actually.”

“Shit, we’re still eating.”

“We can pay the bill and head to the gym together,” she offered.

The alley incident flashed in my mind. “There’s no reason for you to waste your time, too.”

She frowned. “If he’s possibly a threat, you should have backup.”

I held up a hand. “I’m sure he’s just a creep, not a threat.” My pussy throbbed in argument with that vehement statement. I hoped Sherry wouldn’t notice when I shifted to cross my legs.

“What’s your intention?” She used her agreeable voice on me. That meant that she didn’t like my plan, and hoped she could question me out of it.

“I just want to talk to him again.”

“For what purpose?”

My eyes dropped to my drink, and I cradled the glass in my hands. “I’m not sure.” I lifted my gaze to meet her worried one. “There was something… I couldn’t put my finger on.”

“What if something happens?”

Hands against the wall, legs spread, frisked for an object I didn’t possess.“Nothing’s going to happen,” I said in a shaky voice.

“I’m going with you,” she said, as if we settled the matter.

“No.”

Her eyes widened at my simple declarative sentence. “No?”

“No,” I repeated in a softer tone. “I need to do this myself. I’ll be careful. Aren’t I always?” I offered her a lop-sided grin as proof.

She guffawed. “Not at all.” She reached for my hands. “You will check in every thirty minutes until you’re back in your apartment. Or else I call in the cavalry.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I agreed, withdrawing my hands for a jaunty salute.

“Guess I’ll stay and finish the guac.”

“Oh, the hardship.” I glanced one last time at the yummy goodness with a sigh. “I promise I’ll check in.”

“Yes, you will.”

Her final words followed me as I left the restaurant and hustled toward the gym. There was no way this would fail. If she saw Jax Smith at the gym more days than not during the week, he’d almost certainly be there. I’d just follow him.

I parked myself on the bench at the corner of 8th and Bradley, excitement thrumming through me that I might get answers. I’d picked my location carefully. The bench pointed toward the opposite cross street and had a row of hedges nearby. They were intended to protect people on the bench from the vehicle exhaust to a limited degree. They were therefore good in providing a bit of visual cover, though did require me to watch more from my peripheral vision, unless I wanted to turn my head.

My sandal tapped out a steady rhythm on the concrete while I watched the number of people dwindle, including the few entering and exiting the gym across the street, diagonal to my bench. The scent of unknown fried food wafted over me every so often, and I craned my head around, trying to find the source. I didn’t think it could be from the bar, but who knew? Worry peeked around the excitement, and bile rose in my throat. The mixed reactions I was having to just the thought of seeing Jax Smith were maddening. What would happen when he arrived?

After I waited on the bench for a time, pretending to use my phone, and increasingly concerned that he wouldn’t show, the other potential flaw in my plan hit me. Our town’s size meant I seldom drove anywhere, but it was possible he’d have a car. I nibbled my lower lip and thought about what I’d do if he headed for a car.

Would I throw myself into him to stop him and make him explain himself? And Sherry was right. What was my plan? Force him to tell me the truth about his identity? Maybe he already had. But, from his frisking technique, I knew he wasn’t a US Marshal. I had to find out—

There he was! His broad shoulders and massive chest were impossible to miss when he exited the gym. Damn, he really was a beast. He turned to walk away from the intersection walkway where I sat, then paused, before turning back and heading my way.

My heart sped up and underarm sweat caused me to fan myself ineffectively with my purse. It dropped to my lap when I realized I might draw attention to myself. A quick dip into my purse brought out my phone, giving me something to pretend to occupy my time, while I stared out of the top of my vision.

Jax Smith passed my intersection and headed down the street I’d come from. I casually rose from the bench and followed. Movies taught me to keep distance between us, so I did, as Jax wandered Sandy Creek. I began to wonder if he was out for an evening stroll, without a destination in mind. Like hell he was. That would be too convenient. My breath hitched as I considered that he knew I was following him. I held my breath to steady it. Whether he knew I was following him was irrelevant. I wanted information and getting it right from the source seemed the only way forward.

Thirty minutes passed. I held my phone at waist height and typed while I walked. The irony that this exact scenario got me into this mess to begin with was not lost on my dumb ass. I texted Sherry to tell her my quarry was on the move. My phone immediately lit up with a response. Not surprisingly, she was worried. I assured her I would be okay. That I’d text again in another thirty minutes.

Jax Smith turned down a narrow road, not quite an alleyway, and I stumbled in hesitation. It wasn’t the alley from before, but suddenly the memories of his invasive, but titillating search swarmed my brain. I swiveled to take in my surroundings. There was still enough light. The man kept going, and I groaned. Giving up wasn’t an option. When would he reach his destination?

He rounded a darker corner, and I lost sight of him while I slowed in closing the gap. I needed to keep distance between us to shadow him, but my sixth sense didn’t like the shadowy road. It screamed at me to go back. Although a darker voice urged me forward.

I crept around the corner and smacked into Jax Smith.

“Why are you following me?” he growled.