Chapter Seven

Lacy stomped on her brakes harder than she meant to, but her heart was more of a banging drum than a cardiac muscle at the moment. Across from her front door, the apartments boasted—not loudly—a long line of semi-covered parking stalls for long-term residents. They charged a one hundred dollar deposit to rent each stall, which Lacy had signed up for the moment she’d moved in. Parking anywhere near D.C. was a nightmare, even in Anacostia.

Only a single gray SUV had parked on the opposite side of her assigned stall, making it a tight squeeze for her to manage. The car was running, but the windows were too dark to see who was watching her. If anyone was. Panic had her thoughts pinging in all the wrong directions as she cranked the wheel and slid into number 622. Her assigned parking stall didn’t match her apartment number, mostly because nothing matched on this side of town. Like her.

With her backpack tucked tightly under one arm, she took one more look at the strange SUV. Damn, those windows are dark. Here goes. Taking a deep breath, she kept her head down and made like she wasn’t coming undone when she opened the door and set one foot to the pavement. Only she was rattled. Her feet led her to her sidewalk, but if that guy in the SUV had her in his crosshairs, she could be down on the pavement with a bullet in her head and never know what hit her. Had to be one of Poindexter’s men. Who else knew she lived here?

All but running up the two flights of stairs to her apartment, the backpack she carried felt extra heavy with Marlee’s secret evidence hidden at the bottom of it. Fear shivered up the back of Lacy’s calves, straight up to her butt, urging her to, ‘Run!’ She did. Footsteps sounded one flight behind her. It might be no one, but it could be—them. The guys from the SUV. Poindexter’s killers. ‘Hurry!’

She couldn’t go fast enough. Fumbling, she rammed her key into the lock at her door. Before she had the chance to turn the key, her door swung inward.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Jake muttered in that quiet rumbling voice of his. “You’re late.”

Out of breath and not wanting to look any more foolish or scared than she already did, Lacy bolted into her apartment, slammed the door behind her, and cranked the deadbolt until it clicked loud and clear. The safety chain went next. The simple lock on the doorknob after that. Finally—whew! She slid the metal bar home on yet another lock below the others. Swallowing hard, she stepped back and cocked her head to detect whether those footsteps had passed her door and kept going, or if they’d stopped. If those guys from the SUV intended to kick her door in.

Too much adrenaline flooded her petite five-foot four-inch body. Rubbing her arms enough to warm her fingers, she dropped her backpack to the floor. Maybe it was nothing. She might have just scared herself. There might not have been anyone behind her at all. She gulped. Or it might have been Rafe Poindexter in person come to give her the same message he’d given poor Mr. Adams.

Not until Jake clutched her biceps and turned her to face him did she realize how close he was. His hair was still wet and that poor black eye looked tender. He’d showered while she was gone, but he hadn’t shaved. Cool.

Stormy gray peered from beneath a shock of dark brown curls and tangles. “What wrong? Who’s out there?”

“I, I thought I heard someone behind me on the stairs,” she answered truthfully, out of breath and beginning to feel stupid

“Who? Did you see who it was?”

She blew out another big breath between pursed lips. The nurse who taught Lamaze at the clinic would’ve been proud. If only Lacy could slow her heartbeat and stop shaking enough to be sensible. It had to have been her over-active imagination. Why would anyone follow her? How could anyone even know that she had Marlee’s secret with her? For that matter, did anyone even know Marlee had a secret?

“It was probably nothing.” She swallowed past the dry lump at the back of her throat. Glancing over Jake’s shoulder to the prone Marine sprawled all over her couch, Jamaal looked like he was in a more comfortable position than how she’d left him. Jake must’ve put his feet on the couch. His feet hung over the armrest, but he snored, so his position must not have bothered him.

“Can we talk?”

Jake made a funny, puzzled face. “I thought we were?”

“I mean, in the other room? I don’t want anyone else to hear what I have to tell you.”

Another puzzled shadow shifted through those gorgeous gray eyes. Honestly, the man was a little dense. He blinked extra-long eyelashes like he was trying to figure her out. Couldn’t he see that she was scared out of her wits and needed emotional support?

He peered over her shoulder to the open bathroom door on the other side of the living room. The sincerest glint of determination flitted across his face. His brows furrowed. “Not there.”

Fine. Whatever that meant. Anxiety got the best of her. She didn’t have all day for him to decide if he was coming or not. Grabbing his hand and the backpack, she tugged him to her bedroom and closed the door behind them. Flipping the light switch up, she caught the most amusing combination of wonder, worry, and delight when his eyes scrolled over her bed to the pile of dirty laundry in the corner. A pair of black panties lay on top. Of all the times to be embarrassed for being a slob, this was definitely it.

Cutting to the chase, she ordered him to focus. “Jake. Look at me.”

He pulled his eyes away from her laundry, and, darn it anyway. A tender smile twitched at the left side of his mouth. “Okay, so tell me. What’s so important that you ran up two flights of stairs? You don’t usually do that.”

She should’ve asked how he knew that, but instead she blurted, “Poindexter’s men burned Lamont’s Pool Hall this afternoon. It’s gone.”

Anger flared to life in his face. “They hurt him?”

She shook her head. “Not really, at least not directly. Two firemen brought him into the clinic. He thought he could put the fire out by himself. You know how he is. He’s got some smoke inhalation, but that’s all. Marlee sent him home with oxygen. He’ll be okay.”

“What else could he do? That place was his life, damned near his everything.”

“I know. Isn’t that terrible? At least he and his wife are safe.”

“Sons of bitches.” Jake glanced at the door behind her. “I’ll bet that’s who beat up Jamaal. What going on in this town?”

“Did they beat you too, Jake? Poindexter’s men?”

He stiffened. “Maybe.”

Oh, you stubborn man. Why can’t you just tell me?

“There’s more.” Lacy lowered her voice, lifting the box between them. “Marlee asked me to keep something for her. It’s in this lockbox. That’s why I ran up the stairs like I did. I kind of scared myself. I thought I heard footsteps behind me. I thought someone was following me.”

He eyed the box. “What’s in it?”

Setting it on the edge of her bed, she knelt in front of it, wishing she’d had time to ask more questions before Marlee hurriedly left. The only place she could think to hide it was under her bed. “I’m not sure. All she said was it was evidence. She had to meet someone. There wasn’t enough time to talk.”

“Where’s the key to unlock it?” He knelt beside her. “What kind of evidence? On who?”

“I don’t know about a key. She didn’t give me one, but she was scared, Jake. She said she had information on Rafe Poindexter.” An involuntary shudder shivered up Lacy’s spine. She wiggled with the attack of goose bumps, jostling into Jake’s very solid right bicep. That momentary contact was all she needed to fall apart. She took advantage of him right there and then, leaning her full weight into him until he had no choice but to wrap one timid, big, strong arm around her shoulder or let her fall. Turning her face into his shirt, she took a deep breath of body odor and another scent, too. Her shampoo. Her body wash. It smelled good on him.

“You okay?” he asked gruffly, his body coiled tighter than the springs in her mattress.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, afraid of being overheard. “First you and Jamaal get beat up. Then poor Mr. Adams. For a minute there, I thought I was next.”

“’S okay,” he soothed, his deep voice unexpectedly deep and comforting and his beard soft on her forehead.

She let him hold her while she caught her breath. Maybe she hadn’t really heard footsteps.

“I didn’t stop for Chinese,” she admitted. “I’m sorry, but I forgot all about it when Marlee told me to take this home. She made me take a full emergency first-aid pack, too. I’ve got drugs, antibiotics, painkillers, and a defibrillator in the backpack in my car. I’ve never seen her so scared. She knows Poindexter from when she lived in California. She didn’t exactly say how she knew him, but she seemed to know how dangerous he is. She said he’d make Anacostia prosper if it was the last thing he did.”

What would Poindexter’s men have done if they’d caught up with her? Slapped her around? Burned her out? Worse? A full body cringe coursed over her at the scary possibilities. Women alone were so damned defenseless, no matter how tough they thought they were. All it took was the law of the jungle, two against one, and she might have become a victim. Again.

Jake grunted. “Don’t worry. He’s nothing but a flaming bully. I’ve seen his type before.”

He seemed taller suddenly even though they were both kneeling like a couple of kids at prayer next to her bed. All timidity was gone. There was an inner strength to Jake that he didn’t seem able to admit to. Maybe he couldn’t see it, but she could. It proved itself in the way he gripped her more firmly as if he meant to protect her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, her heart finally calmer. “I don’t want to be alone.”

His grip tightened in response. “You won’t be.”