In Safe Hands (Search and Rescue #4)(115)

“Hello?”

Jules jumped. “Oh. Sorry. Yes. I…um. I got your number from Mr. Espina. He thought you might be able to help me…plan a trip.” She winced. Her attempt at code made her sound like an idiot.

“Plan a trip?” Apparently, Dennis agreed with her; his words carried more than a hint of amusement. “I’m a travel agent now?”

“Well, I…” She trailed off, flustered. Did he really want her to tell him flat-out what she needed? Shouldn’t they be on a secure line or something? Although Jules wasn’t positive what a secure line entailed, she was fairly sure it didn’t involve cell phones in a parking lot at five thirty in the evening. “Could we meet somewhere to talk about this?”

As she waited for him to respond, she felt a trickle of sweat follow the line of her spine until it met the waistband of her skirt.

“Let’s take a walk,” he finally said, and her head fell back against the seat in relief. “Are you familiar with Collins Park?”

“Yes.” Glancing at the digital clock, she did some mental math. Taking the rush-hour traffic into account, she’d be able to make it there in about an hour.

“I’ll meet you by the dinosaurs at six.”

“Oh, but…” Her protests fell uselessly into empty air. He’d already ended the call. Jules let out a pent-up breath and tossed her phone into the passenger’s seat. Reversing out of the parking spot, she set her jaw.

She was going to do this. All her efforts to follow the rules had gotten her nowhere. She’d never get legal custody, and her brothers and sister needed to get out of that house. If she had to become a kidnapper to make that happen, so be it.

This is it. Jules, lifelong rule follower, was jumping across the line into felon-hood.

As she flew out of the parking lot, Jules was a bit disappointed that her tires didn’t squeal.





Chapter 3


Present Day

The cop was back.

Jules fumbled with the sugar packets she was refilling as she tried to watch without him noticing. She had to admit that he was gorgeous. In her old life—her other life—she might have flirted with him. Now, she looked at the uniform and all she could see was the prison time it represented.

“Seriously?” Megan muttered, making Jules jump and scatter sugar packets across the counter. “He’s here again? Why can’t he just keep his cranky ass at home and stop ruining everyone else’s day?”

Her laugh came out as more of a gasp, drawing a sharp look from Megan.

“You all right? Don’t you let him bother you, okay? He’s surly to everyone, so it’s nothing you did. He didn’t used to be this bad, at least not until… Well, let’s not talk about that. Want to do rock-paper-scissors to see who has to take table four?”

Jules’s laugh came easier that time. She was relieved that Megan thought Jules’s reluctance to be around Theo was because of his crabbiness, rather than the fact that he was a cop. The last thing she needed was for Megan to be suspicious of her. “Sure.”

Under the cover of the counter, they held their fists out and counted under their breath, “One, two, three!”

Jules sighed at her smothered rock. “Shoot. Well, thanks for the offer.”

“If I were a nice person, I’d take Pissy Cop’s table anyway.” When Jules looked at her hopefully, Megan smirked. “I said ‘if.’ I’m truly not a nice person.”

Jules watched Megan walk toward one of her tables, a smiling older couple who were a striking contrast to the scowling cop four tables away. Her shoulders lifting and then dropping again in a sigh, Jules stiffened her spine. She just needed to be confident. A twinge of remembered embarrassment and fear made her frown. She also needed to not let the cop’s air of authority—as well as his muscled forearms and pretty dark-brown eyes—reduce her to the babbling idiot she’d become the last time he’d been at the diner. For goodness’ sake, she’d messed up her name. Her name. If she wanted to survive in her new life, she needed to step up her game. Firming her jaw to the point that her muscles ached a little with the strain, she picked up a coffeepot and headed to his table.

He watched her, his frown deepening with each step, and she fought the urge to slow or, better yet, turn tail and run.

“’Morning.” She turned the mug in front of him right-side-up with shaky fingers. His wary eyes—almost black and alarmingly perceptive—took in everything, including, she was sure, her obvious nerves. “Did you need a menu?”

Jules caught herself before he could respond.

“Sorry.” Her flush prickled her chest and moved up to her face to warm her cheeks. “Of course you don’t need a menu. You probably know everything on there by now. Well, I’m guessing you do. I’ve only seen you here once, but Megan mentioned you’re a regular.”

Abruptly, Jules stopped talking. More of the nervous babble pressed on her lungs, wanting out. Afraid to open her mouth again in case she started talking once more and wasn’t able to stop until she told this man—this police officer!—everything he shouldn’t know, she forced a smile and stayed quiet.

“Number four,” he said after another pause just long enough to make her uncomfortable. “Scrambled.”