Above Protection (Imperfect Heroes Book 1) (4 page)

BOOK: Above Protection (Imperfect Heroes Book 1)
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After retrieving the small round black
can from the display, she plunked it on the counter and slid it
toward me. “That’s six-nineteen,” she said with a cute Southern
drawl.

I pulled some bills from the front
pocket of my jeans and passed them to her.

She gave me my change and I said,
“Hey, do you happen to know where Lakewood Street is? My GPS is
jacked.”

Her light eyebrows furrowed together
in concentration, and then as if a lightbulb had gone off in her
head, she pierced me with knowing blue eyes. Snapping her fingers,
she said, “Oh! Lakewood is downtown.”

I nodded. “Okay, well how far is that
from here?”

She smiled. “Oh, you’re out in the
country, sweetheart. You keep going another mile or so west and
you’re gonna be hittin’ dirt roads that lead to the state
park.”

Shit. Not right at all.

Seeing my stress, she continued. “Take
Gerald Highway all the way to Four Mile Road, then take the 275
East to the downtown exit. Hopefully your phone GPS thing can help
ya from there.” She nodded toward the phone attached to my
belt.

That, I could do. “Thanks, gorgeous,”
I drawled, lifting my coffee cup up to her as I headed for the
door.

She slid some blonde hair behind her
ear and her cheeks turned pink. “Anytime, Hugh.”

I stopped in my tracks and turned
around and looked at her. “Hugh?”

“Yes,” she giggled, “you look like
Hugh Jackman.”

I chuckled as I opened the Snuff can
and shoved some dip into my bottom lip and then pushed my way out
of the store. Wasn’t the first time I’d heard that.

 

 

The cutie in at the gas station hadn’t
been wrong. Once I reached the interstate, the vic’s address had
been easier to find with my phone’s navigation thing. Who knew a
city as big as St. Petersburg had so many unknown back
roads?

I sucked in a breath as my car reached
the edge of town where the waters of the Gulf of Mexico flanked the
city. To my left, a huge bridge spanned over a breathtaking body of
water, the late afternoon sun glinting off of the choppy waters of
the bay. I continued on the interstate until I reached my exit. I
followed directions on the navigation system until I reached a
swanky new set of condos built on the edge of the water. I parked
in the guest parking and got out, my hand hovering over the 9mm
piece I carried under the light jacket I wore. I scanned the
parking lot for anything suspicious but didn’t see anything. I then
spied the unmarked sedan with government plates parked in the lot.
I made my way slowly toward it.

The windows were tinted so dark, I
couldn’t make out how many were inside, let alone the occupants. I
rapped on the window once with my knuckle, and the window slowly
lowered. My arm still unconsciously hovered over my right hip where
my service pistol sat flush against my hip.

I showed the two guys sitting in the
front seat my badge and credentials. One guy was white and one
black, both equally as boring in their white shirts, loosely fitted
ties, and short haircuts. They both looked up at me.

The driver didn’t look older than 25
as he said, “Knight in shining armor?”

I nodded. “Yep. Vic’s
inside?”

He swung his chin toward the building.
“First floor.”

I watched as the agent in the
passenger looked down and began texting on his cell
phone.

“Thanks. Y’all can go,” I muttered to
them both, making my way toward the building’s front door. It was
locked. I found a security box with a keypad and entered the code
given to me in my packet.

It didn’t take me long to find suite
171 down a long hallway. I knocked on the door, something that
could only be described as nerves churning in my
stomach.

What the hell?

Chapter 6

Rayanne

 

I flipped the TV off.
There was no way I could watch even one more minute of it. Flicking
my gaze toward the clock on the stove in the kitchen, I could see
it was nearing 5:30 p.m. Where the heck was this
knight in shining armor
?

Pacing along the throw rug in my
living room, I walked back and forth, chewing my thumbnail. What
was going to happen when this special agent got here? Were we going
to have to leave right away? Was he going to have to stay the night
and watch me sleep? How did this work? My fingers twitched for my
cell phone to try to Google it, but realized I couldn’t. No data.
No Wi-Fi. No nothing. Cut off, sequestered, utterly
alone.

I told myself I only had to endure
this for another 11 days. That once I testified, it would all be
over with. But did I truly believe that?

Yes, yes I did believe it. I had to,
it was the only sliver of hope I had to cling to. I had to believe
that after I testified, and the Watson brothers were put in prison,
that I would be okay. I could go back to my regular
life.

But what about Shane – the Watsons’
nephew? I’d found out he’d been recently indicted, too, but he was
still on the run. Maybe he was the one sending me the creepy phone
calls. Those calls scared me more than anything. I hated them. Most
days I felt like just handing my phone completely over to the FBI
and getting a new number. I couldn’t live with the fear for much
longer. But I couldn’t. They needed for me to continue to get the
get phone calls in hopes they could find this guy.

I about jumped out of my skin when
three loud knocks rattled my front door. Slowly making my way
toward it, I wondered what I should do. Look through the peephole?
What if someone was behind it, pointing a gun at my face? Should I
ignore it, hope they go away? I doubted they would. I was scared
for my life, but I knew the special agent was going to be showing
up soon and it was probably him or her.

I stood to the side of the doorjamb
and peered through the peephole. At the same moment, my phone
chirped with a text. I ran over to the dining room table where I’d
left it and checked it.

Jack-N-Jill:
Knight is there. Let him in. Name’s Hawthorne.
Brown hair. Beard, blue eyes, tall. Don’t be afraid to ask him for
I.D. ;)

I breathed a sigh of
relief.

Pound-pound-pound.
My door rattled again.

Seeing a tall, bearded guy scowling at
me though the peephole, I slowly disengaged the locks and slid the
door open, shielding the entryway with my body. The door was only
cracked enough to allow my body to fit.

Swallowing down fear and some other
feeling that made my stomach churn that I didn’t have the energy
analyze, I said, “Can I help you?”

The guy was still scowling. He pushed
his way past me, practically causing me to fall backwards. I threw
my arms out to gain my balance, and then closed the front
door.

“What the hell is your problem?!” I
barked at him, all the frustration from the past few days bubbling
over.

I watched as his eyes scanned my
condo, his right arm tense and hovering over his hip. It was
mid-September and I briefly wondered why he was wearing a jacket. I
watched as he went into the kitchen, then quickly ducked into both
bedrooms, then the bathroom.

He finally emerged back into the
living room, and when he turned burning blue eyes to me, he gritted
out in a deep gravelly voice, “You just open the door to anyone who
knocks, Blondie?”

I stomped my foot and crossed my arms
over my chest. I watched with amusement as his eyes scanned my
chest during the gesture, but I kept my frown firmly in place.
“First off, don’t call me blondie. Secondly, who the hell do you
think you are, barging into my house like that?”

His posture didn’t change. “Didn’t the
feds warn you I was coming?”

“Hi, I’m Rayanne. I’m good, thanks for
asking! And you?”

The crease lines between his brows got
deeper and I got a bottomless satisfaction over how pissed off he
looked. I could already tell that this guy was a complete jerk, and
there was no way I was gonna let him treat me like this.

“I’m not here for pleasantries,
Blondie. And you didn’t answer the question. Did they tell you I
was coming, or not?”

With my arms folded securely over my
chest, I said slowly, “My name is Rayanne Lynch. Nice to meet
you.”

“Special Agent Duke Hawthorne,” he
growled. “Now, can we please act like adults and answer
questions?”

I smiled smugly. “Sure. Yes, they did
tell me you were coming, about two minutes ago, Duke
Hawthorne.”

A look passed over his features I
couldn’t decipher, but I just kept talking. “My turn. First
question. Duke, are you always so rude and lacking
manners?”

His dark eyebrows hit his hairline,
and he relaxed his posture, placing both hands on the hips of his
Docker-type pants. “Manners! I’m not here for pleasantries. I have
a job to do…”

“And you seem to be oh-so good at that
job,” I said dryly, cutting him off.

Before I could blink twice, Duke had
closed the distance between us and was in my face, his thick hand
closing around my thin upper arm. “First of all, Rayanne Lynch, I
know a fuck of a lot more about you than you think.” I opened my
mouth to rebut him, but he continued. “Secondly, your opinion means
nothing. I’m paid to get you the hell out of St. Petersburg, and to
make sure nobody puts a bullet in your head.”

I recoiled at his bluntness, a vision
of my body lying dead on a sidewalk somewhere with blood leaking
into a pool onto the cement began to take shape in my brain. My
eyes filled with tears, despite me fighting them. That made me
angry. How dare he scare me like that!

“Third, you will do everything I say.
You hear me? Everything. If you won’t or can’t agree to that, then
you can be on your merry motherfuckin’ way, and fend for yourself.
You got that?”

My eyes went wide. I couldn’t help it.
His closeness was making me uncomfortable but not in the way it
should have. I swallowed hard. My gaze flicked down to where his
hand still gripped my arm, then back up into his infuriatingly sexy
blue eyes. “Uh, yeah. But, Duke?”

He narrowed his eyes.
“What?”

“Could you not be such a freaking
jerk? I mean, you could have some tact and be nicer –”

“No,” he growled, letting go of my
arm. “No, I can’t. And I won’t. Now go pack a suitcase, and don’t
keep me waiting.”

Huffing but saying nothing, I snatched
my phone from the table on my way to my bedroom. I saw I had
another text.

Jack-N-Jill:
Don’t worry, Knight’s bark is worse than his
bite. Good luck.

I smiled in relief. I was beginning to
like whoever was sending these FBI texts.

I sure liked them a hell of a lot more
than I liked Duke.

 

 

My suitcase sat by the front door and
I looked at Duke, who had both of his meaty thumbs typing away on
his phone. I stood there, waiting for instruction. My coat was
slung over my arm.

He looked up from his phone.
“What?”

Cocking my head to the side, my light
eyebrows furrowed. “What-what?”

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