Chapter Three

Tanner

Her huge eyes blinked at me in disbelief, as if I’d asked her to wash and wax my truck. Then I realized she thought I was hitting on her.

I held up a friendly hand. “Hey, just a question. I grew up around here, but you don’t look familiar.”

Her expression softened considerably. “Oh. No. I grew up in a small town a few hours north of here.”

“Yeah? Which one?”

“Hollandale?”

I nodded. “I know it. My buddies and I went to the state park up there a couple of times in high school.”

“Really?” She leaned in toward me, though I doubt she realized it.

“Really.” I spun my water glass on the counter. “So, what brought you to Biloxi?”

“Work.” Her eyes flicked to a corner booth. I followed her gaze to an older man sitting alone, reading a newspaper. “And better hospitals.”

I turned back to her, my brow lifted. “You related to him?”

“He’s my grandfather.”

I mentally catalogued that little tidbit. We did not have that info on her in our file. We had very little, actually. Her birthdate, current address, places of employment, credit history, and that was it. No criminal past other than a speeding ticket, no marriages, no court proceedings, no family ties that we could find. With Tex out of pocket, we were like kindergarteners searching through college text books. Lost.

She cleared her throat and stood straight, obviously shocked she’d said so much to a stranger.

I offered her my best smile and my hand. “I’m Tanner, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

She hesitated a moment, then wiped her palm on the towel at her waist and took my hand. “You, too.”

“Looks like I might be in town a little while,” I hedged. “It’s nice to know a friendly face.”

A sweet flush filled her cheeks. “Are you in town for business?”

“You could say that.”

She took me in, pausing momentarily on the aviators next to my hand. “Air Force?”

I lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”

Her soft smile was sweet as candy. “You look like you could be military. Keesler Air Base is just up the road.” She shrugged. “Just a guess.”

“Oh.” I shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, no, I’m not in the Air Force—”

Before I could say more, a bell chimed behind her, signaling a finished plate as the cook slid it up beneath the warmer. She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh. I guess I should get back to work.”

“Of course.”

I watched her walk away and serve the food, her blonde curls bouncing around her face. She really was a knock-out. Cuter in person than her photos, with a vulnerability shining in her eyes that made me want to wrap her up in my arms and rescue her from this Godforsaken town, but something told me she’d never go for it.

I took in the small diner and its patrons. They all looked like regulars, nobody moving particularly fast or seeming unfamiliar to Rebekah or the other waitress.

Ever since I’d rolled into Biloxi late last night, I’d been fighting the demons that wanted to take over my mind, the memories that wanted to take over. I wouldn’t go there again. I’d gone too far to let them back in. This was just another town on the Mississippi Delta to me now. I had no family here anymore, hell, my old house wasn’t even standing any longer. There was nothing to ever point to the fact that I’d ever set foot on these haunted grounds—other than my own nightmares.

~ ~

I prolonged my breakfast as long as I possibly could, taking my time and watching every move of every person in and out of that diner for at least an hour and a half as I took my time over three glasses of water and most of a newspaper.

Finally, I couldn’t avoid it any longer, and I had to pay my bill or look like a loiterer. I left Rebekah a hefty tip and made my way toward the restroom. On my way out, I passed by her grandfather as he read the sports page I’d just perused.

I paused by his booth. “Looks like Ole Miss is gonna recruit that Baumann kid from Biloxi High School.”

Wrinkled eyes, nearly as startling blue as his granddaughter’s lifted to mine. He assessed me in one decisive sweep, apparently deeming me acceptable since I knew a thing or two about Ole Miss ball. “Looks like it.” He set the paper aside. “Now if their coach will get his head out of his ass and start running the option, we might stand a chance.”

I shifted my weight with a smile. “True, but I think he likes his head up his ass.”

He smiled. “What’s your name, young man?”

I offered him a hand. “Tanner Richardson, sir.”

“James Lloyd.” He nodded to the opposite side of the booth. “Have a seat?”

Different last name than Rebekah. Interesting. Mental note. I nodded and sat down, accepting the extra mug and carafe of coffee he slid my way as if we were old friends. He must hang out here often if he had his own set up, but I wasn’t complaining. This was the perfect way to keep an eye on my target. “Thanks.”

I added one sugar and stirred while he regaled me with tales of his time at Ole Miss and how he’d coach the team if numbnuts weren’t around—his words—all while keeping all movement in the diner in my direct line of sight. No one was in or out without me seeing them.

James moved to refill his cup, but only a few drops dripped into his mug. “Rebekah Anne!” he hollered.

A few seconds later, she popped over. “Yes—?” Her smile fell with her words the moment she noticed me sitting there with him. “You?”

I shrugged. “What can I say? I found a kindred spirit that loves Ole Miss.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh no. You shouldn’t have said anything. He’ll talk your ears off about football if you let him.”

“It’s fine.” My eyes skated over her shoulder as a dark-haired man walked in who seemed out of place. I sat up taller, waiting to see what he’d do. He slid onto my vacated stool and smiled at the other waitress. I relaxed when she seemed to recognize him. I turned back to her. “I’m enjoying all my new friends.”

This seemed to flummox her a bit, but she covered well and faced her grandfather again. “You boys need more coffee?”

“Yes, please.” He moved the carafe toward her. “Thank you, pretty girl.”

As soon as she walked away, he looked straight at me. “She’s a sweet thing and I love her, but she worries too much.”

Alarm bells began to sound in my mind. “Worries about what?”

“Everything. Things that go bump in the night. Money. You name it . . . but mostly she worries about me.”

I homed in on the things that go bump in the night comment, but I knew I couldn’t pry without telling them why I was there and I wasn’t quite ready to do that just yet. Instead, I sipped my coffee and played it cool. “I’m sure most good granddaughters worry about their grandfathers. She loves you.”

“Yes, she does, but I’m dying and she can’t fix that and it’s eating her up inside.” He coughed and cleared his throat. “She’s had a rough life, my Rebekah. I just want her to be happy.”

The way he lifted his gaze and stared me down felt as if he was trying to communicate something to me, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure it out. We were strangers. Two men who’d just met over a love of Ole Miss football and my undercover mission to protect his granddaughter. We had no other reason to share a single other thing, yet it felt like somehow, someway, he knew my deepest secrets and why I’d run from this place.