Choosing Rena (4 page)

She held up a hand. “All right – I
can’t believe I’m doing this, but meet me at the Tokyo Lunch Boxes
at one o’clock sharp. It’s when I take my lunch.” She gestured
across the way to the brightly lit restaurant. “Don’t be late
because I only get thirty minutes to eat.”

Without waiting for his agreement, she
brushed past him, ignoring his thank you. She couldn’t believe
she’d actually agreed to meet them but she’d never had a beef with
Dieter or Elizebetta – just the cheating asshole his employer had
birthed.

* * * *

Rena was surprised how fast
her shift flew by, but really shouldn’t have been. The hot weather
had driven more than a fair share of the teenagers inside –
particularly the ones who lived to make mall security’s job more
entertaining.
I swear if we confiscate one
more skateboard, we’ll have enough to open up our own shop. Christ,
I don’t know which is worse - them or the idiots on
rollerblades.

“Rena, we’ve got a black male
teenager. Possibly gang affiliated, approximately six three, two
hundred pounds on blades heading your way. Suspect is wearing a red
polo, black jean shorts and a White Sox hat. Suspected of theft and
is probably thinking to escape apprehension via CTA station on the
concourse level. Copy?” Hank’s voice advised through her
earpiece.

Hiding the movement of activating her
earpiece by pressing a button on her mp3 player, she replied
softly, “Copy that.” Tossing her empty paper cup into a nearby
receptacle, she casually made her way towards the CTA station,
keeping her eyes peeled. Less than thirty seconds later, she caught
a flash of fast moving red with a White Sox baseball cap. “Spotted
suspect and moving to intercept.” Shifting the heavy tote off her
shoulder, she let it slide down her arm and stepped directly into
the path of the fleeing assailant. As he swerved to miss her, she
swung the bag, hitting the young man directly in the
chest.

“Ump!” The huge teenager teetered
precariously as he bounced off her before crashing into the seating
area for Dunkin’ Donuts. A shrill scream came from a mother
balancing not only her coffee but a tray full of goodies for her
kids as she went down under the man. The cups and the treats went
flying. The kids, a small boy of eight stood there with wide eyes
and his mouth agape, while an older boy began smacking the teenager
with a GNC bag he was carrying. If it wouldn’t have blown her
cover, she’d have laughed outright. Well at least until the son of
a bitch knocked the older boy down. Her blood froze when he balled
up a fist to hit the child.

“Little fuckin brat!” The teen swung,
his blow connecting and the young boy started crying.

Fury had her pushing through the
crowd, uncaring she was blowing her cover. Then a familiar blond
grabbed the teen and gave him a rough shake. Her heart stopped as
the warm molasses drawl with the slightest hint of spice reached
her ears.

“Feet pue
tan
!”
Jackson
cursed as the teenager swung at him, his wild swing glancing off
Jackson’s shoulder. Her eyes widened when Jackson retaliated,
backhanding the punk. Rena’s ears began to burn as Jackson
explained the difference between trying to beat on him and a scared
ten year old. She hadn’t heard such eloquent Cajun since the last
time she’d royally pissed Jackson off – and he certainly hadn’t
ever called her a cold son of a bitch, but he had used those words
about the man who’d shot at them in Ireland.

The security guards swarmed
the area as Jackson continued to berate the poor fool, smacking him
each time the young man tried to lash out at him. As her fellow
guards surrounded them, he finally gave the boy one last shake
before shoving the youth into the hands of the waiting security
guards, but not without one final warning. “Real men
dôn
hit
shas.
Little ones are
innocent – remember dat – or I guarantee I’ll be back to kick
your
tchew.
”

Rena froze as his eyes caught hers,
promising something. But before she could figure out what, he
turned to help the mother stand. His gentleness now was at odds
with the violence she’d just witnessed. It was just another
intriguing layer to the Dom who wanted to claim her as his. The
soft beeping of her alarm sounding in her ear jerked her back,
reminding her of an appointment she had to keep. Merging back into
the crowd, she needed to disappear before Jackson could reach
her.

Walking casually by where Dieter and
Elizebetta were sitting, watching the commotion as more security
guards and cops swarmed the eating area, she paused by their table.
Placing her hand on Elizebetta’s arm, she caught the woman’s
attention.

“Rena…did you see that man? He
actually hit that child!” The woman seemed aghast at the
situation.

“Indeed he did.” Rena kept her voice
low. “Meet me upstairs at Ronnie’s Steak House.”

Without waiting for her agreement,
Rena was on the move, blending into the crowd of people exiting the
CTA station. She was paid to hide in plain sight, and now more than
ever she was glad she was good at her job. There was no way she’d
be having lunch today at the Tokyo Lunch Box as planned. It was too
close to Jackson Levough and even as curious as she was about what
Dieter or Elizebetta might possibly want, it wasn’t worth the risk
of another encounter with the blue-eyed devil. She refused to think
how cowardly her actions were – rather telling herself she was
being prudent by avoiding him.

* * * *

Clenching his jaw, Jackson fought the
urge to follow Rena as she vanished into the crowd. Dabbing at the
corner of his mouth with a napkin where the punk had managed to get
a lucky blow in, he was helpless to follow her. He had to deal with
the police first. But he’d known once she realized he’d been
shadowing her, she would disappear like a wisp of smoke in a
thunderstorm. And losing her again pissed him off.

“Mr. Levough, I see you’ve returned,
despite how many times I’ve told you to stay away?” The exasperated
tone from behind him wasn’t a surprise.

Pivoting, he gave the man a rueful
smile. Behind him, Hank Mancini, the guard who’d detained him long
enough for Rena to escape, didn’t look amused. Everything from his
furrowed brow to his crossed arms and spread legs made Jackson
think of an older, pissed off Sylvester Stallone. “Hank! How have
you been?”

With his arms over his wide chest,
Hank raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m getting tired of you lurking
behind garbage cans and spying on a certain undercover security
guard.”

Tossing his arm over the
shorter man’s shoulder, he gave him a one-armed hug. “Come on,
don’t be that way,
mon
ami
. If I hadn’t been here, your suspect
would’ve either possibly hurt someone or said guard would’ve blown
her cover in the process.”

“While I can’t deny the fact you were
able to help out in this situation, was it really necessary to
smack the man around? According to his ID he’s only
seventeen.”

He dropped his arm from Hank’s
shoulder and his voice went cold. “If he’s old enough to steal,
flee from security and strike a child, then he’s man enough to
accept the consequences.”

Hank held up his hands. “I agree
whole-heartedly but somehow I don’t think the Chicago P.D. is going
to agree with you, nor do the members of his gang.” Running a hand
through his salt-n-peppered hair, he nodded to the group of black
gang-bangers watching the proceedings from across the food court.
“I’ll bet anything this stunt was some kinda of initiation, and
those guys don’t look none too happy about your
interference.”

He shrugged. It mattered not to him.
If they thought they could take on a former Ranger and win – all
the more power to them. He’d be prepared. “Better they be pissed at
me than set their sights on Rena.” For that he’d kill them – no
questions asked. She was his – even if she didn’t realize it
yet.

Hank sighed. “You have a death wish,
Levough?”

Jackson chuckled. “No, why do you
ask?”

Hank shook his head. “First you piss
off a damn fine woman until she’s ready to murder you in your
sleep, and then you stalk her at work. Now to top it all off,
during said stalking, you interfere with her job by beating the
piss out of a possible gang member.”

Before he could answer, a young
uniformed cop with a massive chip on his shoulder joined them.
Jackson could tell by the way the cop’s hand rested on the butt of
his gun as he gave him the once over before deciding he wasn’t a
threat then addressing Hank. “I’ll take the witness off your hands,
now, so you can get back to your rounds.”

When Hank opened his mouth to protest,
the guy glared at him. “After all, I’m a trained police officer and
I’m sure you have other things to do – like catch shoplifters.” He
reached out to grab Jackson’s arm. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask
you to come with me.”

With a smooth move he evaded the man’s
grasp and gave Hank a rueful smile, totally ignoring the cop simply
because he knew it would piss the guy off. If there was anything he
hated more than bullies, it was bullies with a badge. “Do you
reckon they’ll let me go with a warning? After all, I didn’t hurt
him too much.” Walking a few feet over to the nearest trash
receptacle, he tossed the bloodied napkin into it.

The cop followed him, this time
lunging at Jackson then managing to snag his arm. “I don’t find
this the least bit funny, Sir. Now unless you want me to take you
down right here, you need to come with me.” The forceful tone did
little to impress Jackson. He’d heard sharper barks from his daddy
than this young punk.

He glanced down at his arm, donning
his Ranger persona to stare down the other man. “You have less than
three seconds to release me, Son, before I show you how bad you
actually aren’t.”

“Are you threatening an
officer?”

Keeping his tone even, he shook his
head. “No. Just making a statement of fact.”

“Kalinski, what the hell are you
doing?” Another cop, this one wearing a suit and a crew cut joined
him.

This cop Jackson recognized and
respected, unlike junior here. He’d worked with Sean Anderson
several times over the past two years in the training courses for
urban war tactics which he and Jude had provided for the city. He
was a good man and a more than competent cop without being
overbearing.

Kalinski looked over his shoulder.
“The witness is being difficult, Detective Anderson. I was just
giving him a helping hand…”

“Boy, you’re lucky he isn’t giving you
a broken one. Jackson Levough is one of the guys who wrote our
urban tactics course material. Now do yourself a favor and release
him before you end up with fewer working fingers than you started
out with.”

The kid dropped Jackson’s arm, but
glared at him as he stormed off.

“Sorry about that, Jackson. Fresh from
the academy and he’s already got a chip on his shoulder a mile
wide. I wonder where they find them.”

“No problem. I was just being ornery
and didn’t want to give Super Cop my statement. You know
me…”

The other cop laughed. “Yep, I do. So
how about you give it to me instead, so I can get you on your
way?”

Jackson slapped his shoulder. “Sure
why not? But can we grab a cup of joe? I had to drop mine to deal
with that asshole over there. My treat.” Jackson turned to Hank,
who seemed stunned by what had just happened. “You’re welcome to
join us too.”

Hank’s mouth opened twice before he
could speak. “You let me manhandle you the day we met…but
why?”

Jackson understood what the other man
was asking. “You were protecting her. And she needs someone
watching her back, particularly when she’s at work. I can’t be
around all the time. Now let’s go get that cup of
coffee.”

Chapter Four

“So, let me get this right.” Rena
played with the straw in her sweet tea while making eye contact
with Elizebetta. Around them the normal lunch crowd was enjoying
steak and the casual atmosphere Ronnie’s provided. And she was
happy they’d gotten a table at the back, which wasn’t visible from
the entryway of the mall. Even with Ronnie’s one floor up and
located on the other side of the mall, she wasn’t taking a chance
Jackson might catch her again. She shouldn’t be so worried about
it. She was a trained security expert, and he’d have a hell of a
battle taking her by surprise. But it was more her own response she
feared. It would be all too easy to forget why she shouldn’t give
into him. But now wasn’t the time to worry about Jackson Levough,
because she was here because of a position Elizebetta wanted her to
fill. “You want me to not only set up, but also run the security
for your new art gallery here in Chicago? One which your son is
adamant you not start?”

Elizebetta nodded. “Whether my son
likes it or not, I’m going to open this gallery, Rena. Since his
father passed away last year, I’ve been surrounded by nothing, but
memories. I need a change of pace…something new that doesn’t remind
me of what I’ve lost. A place to start a new life for
myself.”

Her heart softened because
she knew exactly how the other woman felt. She too had come to
Chicago looking for a new start. “I was sorry to hear about your
husband, Elizebetta. I saw his obituary in the paper before I left
New York, but with things the way they were I didn’t feel
comfortable enough after the break-up to stop by and offer my
condolences….”
That’s an understatement of
the century.