Without thinking about it, Jeannette reached out and grabbed Warren’s hand. It briefly crossed her mind that an hour ago, she would’ve blushed if their fingers had met as she passed him his coffee. Now it felt not only right to hold on to him, but also necessary. And embarrassment was the furthest emotion from Jeannette’s mind. All that mattered at that moment was the security she drew from having her palm pressed to his.
Outside, there was a shuffle. Then a muted yell carried through from the side of the vehicle.
“Any sign of them on that end?”
It was definitely the younger of the two men. And he had to be standing just outside, almost exactly in line with Warren’s position.
Two feet of space, an inch of metal and silence, Jeannette thought. Those are the only three things between him and us.
She closed her eyes. Though she didn’t hear anything for a few seconds, she knew that Jimmy must’ve answered him, because the other man called out a response.
“No, they aren’t!” he hollered. “It must’ve been something else.” There was a pause, and then he added, “Nothing! Unless you wanted a Popsicle, ’cause all that’s here is an ice cream truck.” Another pause. “Yeah. I’m not an idiot. It’s locked up tight.”
Jeannette felt Warren’s hand squeeze hers, and she opened her eyes to look his way. In the near dark, she could see the stiff alertness of his body. She knew his worry matched her own. Would Jimmy order his buddy to search the truck? If so, would he be able to get the door open if he tried? She held still and waited, the moments dragging on.
Finally, the unseen man hollered again. “Yeah! Got it!”
A thump and accompanying rattle sounded, and Jeannette imagined the man giving the truck an openhanded smack. Warren’s grip tightened even more, and Jeannette’s whole body matched the tenseness in his fingers. Her muscles ached like she’d just spent an hour at the gym. If the thug was about to realize that the vehicle really was a potential hiding place, then they’d only have seconds to react. She somehow doubted that anything in reach would be an effective weapon. Unless, of course, she could manage to effectively wield a flat wooden spoon like a knife. But after another couple of moments, the worry was rendered unnecessary anyway. The almost inaudible tread of retreating footsteps carried in, and Jeannette swore that the sound was the most welcome thing she’d heard in her entire life.
Thank God, she thought.
After the last taps faded away, she counted to ten, then let herself exhale. And a heartbeat after that—quite unexpectedly—Warren let out a breath of his own and squeezed into the space beside her. She didn’t even know how his large frame fit on the bench, but truthfully, she didn’t care. The shoulder-to-shoulder, leg-to-leg contact was even more soothing than holding hands.
“Sorry,” he murmured, his voice low enough that she wouldn’t have been able to discern it at all if not for his close proximity. “I think I need a second or two.”
“Yes. So do I,” she admitted softly.
He issued a short nod, then tipped his head back and closed his eyes. As he did, Jeannette let herself study his dimly lit profile. She hadn’t exactly had even a moment to process everything that had happened in the last thirty minutes. But if she had had time to think about it, she would’ve been nothing but shocked at the way her evening had unfolded. And if someone had asked her which customer would’ve been on the receiving end of “Most Likely To Be Hunted By A Gun-wielding Criminal award... Well, Warren probably wouldn’t have even been on the list.”
She’d been looking at his face for two full years. Five days a week, almost without fail. His smile—charming but reserved—was one she felt like she knew well. One she liked. And if she was being honest about it, her coworkers weren’t entirely wrong in their teasing. Her heart did skip a little beat every time he came into More Coffee. If she got the chance, she did check her hair in the mirror on the back door before he came in every morning. And yes, she’d wondered—fantasized, even—what it would be like to be sitting as close to him as she was right then.
Not exactly how you imagined it, though, is it? Well. Except for the hand-holding part.
Her face warmed, and she looked down, suddenly very conscious of the fact that their hands were clasped together. And not just palm against palm anymore. Somewhere in the short space of time that he’d gone from standing in front of her to sitting beside her, their fingers had become entwined. His work-roughened skin rubbed pleasantly along the bits of soft flesh between her knuckles. Awareness of that fact kicked up consciousness of other things, too. Like the heat of Warren’s body. His outer thigh emanated a warmth that seeped through his jeans and into Jeannette’s very bare leg. And each of his breaths pushed out his chest and shoulders. In turn, that push pressed his arm against hers in a rhythmic pulse that made her catch her breath.
Before she could reason with herself, Jeannette’s eyes roamed over the length of Warren’s body, taking in any details that she never got to in their day-to-day interactions. The tautness of his dirt-speckled jeans showed off muscular legs. A worn leather belt peeked out from under the hem of his gray T-shirt, which hung a little askew. His plaid jacket hung open, and the lines of his chest were just visible. Jeannette suspected that underneath those layers of fabric, he would have the kind of definition that came from hard labor rather than hours spent in the gym. And she liked the idea.
Yeah, okay, she chastised. But do you really think now is the time to be checking him out like this?
She acknowledged the self-admonishment. But she had a counterargument, too. Maybe it was the exact right moment to check him out a little more thoroughly. Because it was pretty much the only thing that might possibly distract her from what was going on. And wasn’t that what they were doing right now? Taking a few seconds?
Her gaze pressed higher.
Warren’s T-shirt had a V-neck. The extra bit of exposure showed a hint of clavicle. Once upon a time, that particular feature had been Jeannette’s favorite part of a man—perfect for running gentle fingers over—and her attention hung there for an extra moment before she drew in a tiny breath and pushed on in her perusal. The skin of his throat was tanned, undoubtedly from the hours he spent outside on the job. His chin was square and strong, and his jaw was dotted with gray-specked stubble. His lips were full and a dark sunset pink, while his eyes were—
Oh, crap.
They were open. Fixed on her, their baby blue deepened to a darker shade. Like the ocean on a summer day. And, of course, the fact that she could see them so perfectly meant that she’d been caught. But instead of feeling like she ought to curl up and die of embarrassment, she was hit with something else. Curiosity. How long had he been watching her, as she watched him? Had that been all he was doing, or was he performing his own slow look over her body?
As she continued to stare at him now, she could see something dancing under the surface of his gaze. Matching warmth. Maybe a flicker of desire. Not that Jeannette was sure she would recognize the latter. It’d been an awfully long time since she’d let herself near enough to a man to remember just what it felt like to be looked at with want. But Warren was that close now.
Close enough to kiss.
The thought was breathtaking. And almost as terrifying as being chased down by Jimmy and his gun.
Jeannette jerked back, her mouth opening to blurt out the first, distracting thing that came to mind. “It belongs to another regular customer!”
Warren’s brow wrinkled into a frown. “What does?”
“This ice cream truck.”
“One of your customers gave you keys to his ice cream truck?”
“It’s less weird than it sounds.”
“It would have to be, wouldn’t it?” he replied dryly.
“Funny.”
“I am curious, though.”
“The truck broke down outside the park a couple of days ago,” Jeannette explained. “Then there was a fiasco with getting it towed, and something hokey about a spare part, and the guy wound up stuck. Then there was a sudden death in the family that took him out of town. He paid my boss to store the ice cream, then asked him to keep an eye on the truck, too. So my boss has been having us hold on to the keys in case of emergency while we’re on shift. But I’m guessing this isn’t what he had in mind.”
Warren’s mouth tipped up on one side. “You don’t think he considered that two people might wind up tucked into the back of a customer’s ice cream truck because they were on the run for their lives?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Well, when you say it like that, it just sounds insane.”
He let out a chuckle, then sobered again. “I think it is insane. Which is why we need to find a way out of here so we can call the police and tell them what’s going on.”
Jeannette’s heart tripped a nervous beat. “I guess that means our few seconds of resetting are up?”
“Unless you think your ice-cream-truck-owning customer is going to turn up with the RCMP sometime soon.”
“Maybe we could wait it out. People start showing up for work a few hours from now.”
Warren shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to take a chance that anyone else might become collateral damage.”
The words sent a chill through her, and she nodded. “No. You’re right. We should get away as quickly and quietly as possible.”
“Good.” His attention slid to the folding panel that blocked off the front of the truck. “Can we go through there? Maybe sneak out the driver’s side door and head through the park?”
“I think we can go out that way, but I don’t think heading through the park is a solution.”
“What would you suggest?”
“My car is in the paid lot near the café,” she said, knowing full well that Warren would protest.
And he did reply right away. “Too risky.”
“Everything in walking distance is closed,” she reminded him. “The closest residential subdivision is at least an hour on foot. We can’t take your truck because they know where it is. And I think you left your keys back there anyway. My car is a safer option.”
“It might be, if it weren’t back in the same place we’d just literally run away from.”
“That’s why it’s safer. It won’t be what they expect.” She paused. “Or...”
“What?”
“We could try driving around subtly in an ice cream truck?”
Warren gave her a look, and after another second, he conceded. “Okay. Your car it is. But if we get to the front and they’re waiting... I expect you to take option B and drive this thing outta here like a race car, no subtlety required.”
After a few awkward shuffles in the small space—accompanied by Warren grumbling about the ice cream freezer being big enough to fit a body—they managed to get the panel open. He slid through first, taking a cautious look around as he moved to the front of the truck and toward the door. Jeannette followed closely behind. But as Warren carefully turned the handle, an abrupt thought—undoubtedly triggered by Warren’s mutters—popped to the front of her mind. And she couldn’t let it go.
“Hey,” she called in a whisper.
He paused with the door partly cracked, and he turned his head. “What’s wrong?”
“The thing that Jimmy and the other guy were looking for...” she said. “Was it a body?”
His jaw tightened, and it was all she needed to see to know she’d guessed correctly.
Warren didn’t answer Jeannie’s question. He could tell from her expression that he didn’t have to—she already knew her conclusion was right. Guilt pricked at him again as they finished making their way out of the truck and started on the careful path back to the paid parking lot near More Coffee.
He was thankful that their successful progress was partly contingent on silence. If he’d had to talk just then, he wasn’t sure what he’d say.
Could’ve just told her the truth five minutes ago.
It wasn’t as though she wouldn’t find out eventually anyway. Sooner rather than later, too. Warren couldn’t very well lie to the police about the situation. Even if he wanted to—even if he tried—they’d find out.
And what will they do? he wondered as they slipped through the streets.
The thought distracted him from the nagging bout of conscience, and while his eyes stayed on the twists and turns of their stealthy journey, his brain mulled over the possibilities. It was the first time he’d really considered the possible fallout. What would the police do?
All those years ago, the cops he’d dealt with hadn’t liked him one bit. The mutual animosity wasn’t just the typical teenager versus authority figure conflict, either. At the time, Warren had felt attacked. Cornered. Their barely disguised accusations had dug at him to the point of anger. He recalled their favorite, oft-repeated question—Where is she, Mr. Wright?—and his increasingly frustrated responses. He didn’t know. He had no clue. It was their job to find her, not his, dammit.
It hadn’t taken long to figure out what they were thinking. It was in their eyes. In their queries. In the way they referred to her in the past tense. They’d been looking for a body, not a living person.
Warren’s throat constricted as he followed Jeannie up one alley, then through a narrow space between two commercial buildings.
The necklace was practically burning a hole in his pocket. He itched to drag it out and examine it, but he wasn’t sure what he hoped to find through further study. That it had been a trick of the light? That the swirling feathers inside the pendant weren’t exactly as he remembered? Or maybe some evidence that he was just plain wrong—that the necklace had been mass-produced and that the claim of uniqueness had been nothing more than a sales pitch used to entice a teenager’s heart. Except he knew it wasn’t true. His gut told him so with forceful vehemence. Which brought him back around to the police and how they would react. It was so coincidental that he could barely buy into it himself. Would they believe it, even for a second? He didn’t get to come up with an answer right then, because Jeannie drew his attention back to the present moment. She slowed down, touched his hand gently, then stopped completely.
They were at the end of a narrow path—barely wide enough to accommodate the two of them. A hip-high fence lined the dirt-packed walkway, but it was clear that it was rarely used. On one side of them was a wildly overgrown row of bushes, while the other held a very worn-looking brick building.
“Is the parking lot nearby?” Warren whispered.
Jeannie nodded. “It’s out there to the left, up the street just a bit.”
“I’ll make sure it’s clear,” he said.
He didn’t give her a chance to argue. Body tense, he stepped forward, placed his hand on the brick, then inched his head out. Right away, he realized that the route they’d taken had brought them back far more quickly than the one they’d taken during their mad run out. All the way at the end of the block, on the other side of the road, the More Coffee sandwich board sign was just visible. Its bold pink arrow beckoned late-night customers to turn the corner. Warren stared at it for a moment, half expecting to see Jimmy or his friend come running. He didn’t exactly relish the idea of battling with them again. There had to be a limit on the number of times that two average, everyday people could come up against an experienced, armed criminal and keep their lives. But the street stayed still and quiet, and after another few seconds, Jeannie’s fingers landed on his back, just above his waistband.
“Do you see it?” she said, her voice still low, and now close to his shoulder. “It’s kind of hard to see the entrance because it’s flush with the building on our side of it, but if you look for a white fence, you’ll have found it.”
Warren pulled his gaze from the familiar sign and scanned the rest of the block. He immediately spied what she was talking about. Midway up the block was an eight-foot gate—wrought iron but spray-painted to a ghostly glow. As he stared at it, he realized it might come with a problem of its own.
“Is that the only way in and out?” he asked.
“Yes,” Jeannie replied. “It’s got a fence all the way around.”
“Secure,” Warren muttered. “And a death trap if we get caught inside.”
“So, then...we don’t get caught.”
She started to step around him, and he realized she was just going to go for it. He shot out his hand and stopped her.
“Just like that?” he said.
“Just like what?” she replied.
He shook his head, marveling at how calm and confident she was. “Jeannie... I’m sorry.”
A puzzled frown etched into her brow. “You said. And I said that we’ll worry about it later.”
“No. I don’t mean I’m sorry about the whole situation.”
Jeannie’s frown deepened. “I’m not following.”
Warren sighed, rubbed at his chin with his free hand and wondered when the hell he’d become so good at being so damn awkward.
Sometime in the last thirty minutes, apparently.
“I mean, yes,” he said with another sigh. “I am sorry about everything else. You should be pouring coffee and worrying about that test you have on Monday. Instead you’re out here with me running from whatever the hell this is. I should’ve had the courtesy to tell you that I knew they were looking for a body. You’re obviously well equipped to handle the insanity.”
She turned to face him straight on, shifting her hands so that she was gripping his arms instead of the other way around. “Okay, first off... I’m impressed that you remembered about my test on Monday. Second. That’s the weirdest compliment I’ve ever received. But third... I’m really, really scared, Warren. I think I can forgive you for trying to minimize that for me.”
“Even if it’s overblown machismo?”
“I thought you said it was chivalry.”
“I did.”
“Are you taking that back?” she teased.
“I don’t take things back,” he told her. “I mean what I say, and I say what I mean.”
Her reply was a little breathless. “A good quality to have.”
He stared down at her face, a surge of emotion bubbling up. Her gaze held his for a moment. Then his eyes dropped to her lips, where his attention hung. He recalled that just a few minutes ago, back in the truck, he’d been sure their mouths were about to meet. The sensation had come and gone so quickly that Warren had almost immediately relegated it to something that only existed in his head. Now that he was almost as close again, it returned. Only stronger.
He wanted to kiss her.
He wanted to let go of the years of baggage and the danger of the current moment.
He wanted—needed, maybe—to give in to the attraction that had been building since the first moment he’d seen her two years earlier.
Yet his body remained still—like it couldn’t hear the demands made by his brain. Even when Jeannie pushed to her toes, he only tensed more. Nerves that swept away an illusion of overblown machismo made his stomach do a jig. But her lips just gave the barest brush to his cheek before she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the parking lot.