The Marine Finds His Family. Angel Smits

It’s not break time yet.” Looking around, she knew she could avoid whatever he had to say with all the customers and her coworkers listening.

      “I’ll wait.”

      Why did those words scare the hell out of her? She trembled, then grabbed the mop handle as much to give herself an excuse to not talk to him as to clean.

      “I’ll take a cup of fresh coffee, when you get a minute,” he drawled.

      Of course, it took her twice as long to clean up the mess with him watching. At least the other diners had gone back to their meals and ignored them. Lindsey, however, was leaning over the counter, watching the scene with interest.

      “One coffee. Coming up,” Tammie said automatically, moving with stilted, hesitant steps, like a sleepwalker on the verge of waking up. In the back room, she put the bucket away and paced the kitchen. What was she supposed to do now? She glanced at the back door. Only the old, battered screen door stood between her and the alley behind the diner.

      She called herself every kind of stupid. She shouldn’t have stayed here in Austin. She’d known that, but the idea of leaving, really leaving Tyler behind, was more than she could bear—he was her world. So she’d stayed. Lot of good that did.

      Every instinct told her to run now. Run fast and hard while DJ was occupied and not expecting it. Run and hope he’d only found her because Tyler had said something.

      Tyler. She missed him so much. Closing her eyes, she pictured him as she’d last seen him. How much had he changed in the few months she’d been away? Curiosity and determination to not give in to her fears had Tammie grabbing the fresh coffee and heading back to DJ’s table. “I... Is...Tyler...settling in okay with you?”

      “He’s fine.”

      Her hand shook as she poured the coffee.

      “I’m not going anywhere.” His voice sounded almost reassuring. He didn’t say any more but instead looked pointedly around the room. “We’ll talk when we’re alone.”

      Alone. She gulped. She didn’t dare let him get her alone. He’d ask questions she couldn’t—wouldn’t—answer. “Can I get you anything else?” She forced herself to shift gears. Distant-waitress mode was safest. It was where she’d lived for months.

      “No, that’ll do.” He looked up, his gaze hard. “For now.”

      She shut off her thoughts and made her decision. Move, feet, move. She prayed she could get out of here before he caught up to her. Probably a stupid notion, but she had to try.

      Tammie walked slowly toward the kitchen, returning the coffee carafe to the burner, and as nonchalantly as possible, she bent down and scooped up her battered backpack. She kept walking, right through the kitchen to the back door. She ran out into the night, not bothering even to think about where she was going. Just out of here. Away.

      The light from the diner’s kitchen was all that illuminated the alley. And it lit only the first few feet. The shadows swallowed the rest.

      She knew there were creepy crawlies and evil trash in the world, and probably half of them lived in this neighborhood, but she told herself she could handle all of them. What she couldn’t handle was being found. Not by DJ—and certainly not by the man who would follow. If DJ had found her, Dom would, too.

      Her heart pounded and her soul dropped to her knees as she hurried through the alley, toward the street. Please don’t let him notice I’ve left. Not yet.

      She was nearly to the light at the mouth of the alley when a shadowed figure stepped into her path, blocking her escape. Silhouetted in the streetlight’s glow, DJ looked dark and ominous. Once, he’d been a friend. He’d been her first lover. He’d been kind. But time had a way of changing everyone. She shivered, not sure who she was really facing.

      “I won’t hurt you, Tammie,” he called to her, sounding a lot as though he was trying to cajole, not harm her. But she couldn’t trust him. She didn’t dare trust any man. Not ever again.

      “I know,” she lied. She’d learned a lot of tricks in the past nine years. She kept walking slowly, purposefully, hoping to convince him she was headed toward him. She could just as easily be the one doing the cajoling, then slip past and run. Run as she’d never run before.

      Thankfully her ugly waitress uniform included tennis shoes. Lightweight, worn tennis shoes. Escape was doable.

      “Good. So where are you going, Tammie?” He remained where he was, his arms crossed over his massive chest, trying to look casual. And failing.

      His features were stiff, what she could see in the slashes of light. His eyes glowed and she wondered if he was angry. She edged along the wall, facing him and tracking her progress by running her fingers on the ridge between the bricks. She tried to ignore the filth she knew darkened the once light-colored stone. She was nearly there.

      “Talk about what?” She hoped to distract him from her progress.

      The silence grew heavy and he waited all too patiently. It made her shiver. What did he have in mind?

      Finally, he spoke. “Our son. Tyler.”

      Her heart broke. She missed Tyler so much and it was almost too painful to think about him.

      “He wants to know when you’re coming to get him.”

      The knife twisted in her chest. She didn’t dare think about how long she’d been away from him. Her eyes stung. She couldn’t give in now, though. Too risky. She hardened her heart and shut off all emotion.

      Her fingers met the corner brick. She breathed in, and after only an instant’s pause, turned the corner and ran like hell.

      The rubber soles of her worn shoes slapping against the pavement were loud, too loud. He’d follow the sound. It couldn’t be helped. She had to outrun him.

      Two blocks, just two short blocks. That was all she had to make, then she could duck into another alley and hide. No footfalls sounded behind her, but maybe her harsh breaths were drowning them out. The alley she’d been aiming for loomed ahead. Nearly there.

      A motorcycle’s roar shattered the night. Glancing over her shoulder, Tammie nearly screamed. The streetlights illuminated DJ. The bike was huge and he looked right at home on its back. Anger wasn’t even close to what she saw on his face now that he was out of the shadows—it was much scarier.

      The machine responded to his every command. She’d never outrun him now.

      Still, she kept going, half expecting him to mow her over and knock her to the ground.

      She didn’t expect the sound of squealing tires or the smell of burning rubber. And most certainly not the grind of metal on cement as the bike tipped. She yelped and froze as she watched him fall.

      And then there was silence. Not the kind of silence that indicated she’d successfully escaped. No. This was the silence of impending doom.

      DJ wasn’t under the bike, for which she hated to admit she was thankful. Instead of being splattered on the pavement, he’d managed to roll away from the machine and land a few feet away from her.

      She stood there, staring. DJ cursed, his words blistering the air and her ears. He glared at her and rose to his feet. He was limping. Oh, God, she hadn’t meant for him to be hurt. Really, she hadn’t. But she had to get away.

      She turned to run again, but before she could get far, his strong hand grabbed her arm and nearly gave her whiplash as he yanked her around. The rough brick wall cut into her back as DJ pushed her up against it. He’d been much kinder the last time he’d grabbed and imprisoned her. She fought. She was not giving in easily. Not this time. And never again.

      She shot her foot forward, her shoe connecting with the hard steel of a shin. He didn’t even flinch. She mentally cursed. “Let me go.”

      “Not a chance,” he growled, his face close to hers.