Forgive and Forget(44)

“And if they’re on that list?” Tom asked, following Joe downstairs.

“Then I don’t know, but you need to stay out of sight.”

Tom grabbed Joe’s arm before he could reach the bottom step. “I’m not leaving you to face who knows what alone.”

“Just stay here. If I need you to go all Jason Bourne on their asses, I’ll shout.”

Tom didn’t look convinced. “Okay, fine. But be careful. I’ll be waiting.”

Joe gave Tom a quick kiss before walking out into the kitchen and then through the doors into the café. The place looked like a warzone. Taking a deep breath, Joe approached the front door and prayed whoever was on the other side was someone they could trust.





Chapter Nine


“MR. Applin?”

Joe cautiously opened the door, relieved when no one tried to kick it in. Instead, he saw two men in dark suits and a huge black Suburban parked out front. “Yes?”

“We’re with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. May we have a word with you?”

The FBI? Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Had there been any agents on that list of Tom’s? Not like they would know. It wasn’t like bureau agents went around with name badges. These guys only showed up when there was real trouble, and most of the time they did so under the radar. “Could I see your identification? You can’t be too careful these days.”

“Certainly.” The taller of the men pulled out a black wallet and flipped it open. “I’m Agent Baker, this is Agent Johnson.”

Why were agents always called Johnson? Joe opened the door and let the men inside. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

“We have reason to believe you may be in danger.” Agent Baker looked around the café with a frown. “Is everything okay, Mr. Applin?”

“Yeah, um, we had a breakin. I was out getting some groceries. They must have run off when they realized there was nothing to steal. Unless flour has suddenly become priceless, there’s nothing of value here.”

“Have you called the police?” Agent Johnson asked, his expression unreadable. The man looked like he was carved from stone.

“Not yet. I just got home.” Joe rubbed his arm and looked around. “I’m still a little shaken up about it.”

“It’s possible this wasn’t your typical breakin,” Agent Baker said. “We’ve been hunting a suspect who we believe is working for one of the local drug cartels as a hired gunman. He’s exceptionally skilled and extremely lethal. Our sources tell us he may have stolen something from his bosses, and now they’re after him. We’d like to get to him first.”

“And you think he’s close by?” Joe asked innocently.

Agent Baker cocked his head to one side as he studied Joe. “Mr. Applin, you seem like a good man. Hardworking, just trying to make a living. This lowlife preys on good people like you. Manipulates them, uses lies to get them to help him, to hide him. Then, when he has no more use for them, he gets rid of them. This guy has local authorities after him, the federal government, criminal organizations, and it’s only a matter of time before he brings it all down on whoever’s helping him.”

Joe stared at them. “And you think I’m helping him?” He let out a small laugh. “I bake pies. The most excitement I see around here is the morning rush for extra-strong coffee.” He motioned around him. “This isn’t a typical day for me, Agent Baker.” Baker…. “Agent Baker, were you ever an officer for the NYPD?”

“No, sir. Chicago. It’s a common surname.”

“Oh. Right.” It was a shot in the dark. He thought maybe there was a chance it had been the man who saved him, but Joe would have thought he’d feel something familiar if it had been.

Agent Johnson pointed toward the end of the café. “Would you mind if we took a look around?”

“No, of course not. I’ll turn on the lights to the rest of the shop so you can get a better look at everything.” He motioned around him. “Help yourself. I can make you some coffee in the meantime.”

“No, thank you. We won’t be here long.”

Joe gave them a nod and casually headed to the back just as Tom came down the stairs. Joe rushed over.

“Joe?”

“The FBI is here.” His heart was pounding fiercely, and his hands were shaking. These weren’t just some hoodlums. How the hell were they supposed to face the FBI?

“What?”

“They’re saying you’re a gun for hire. That you worked for a drug cartel and now you’re on the run because you stole something from them.” So much of what the agents said made sense, and what reason did they have to lie? And yet….

Tom shook his head. “That can’t be true.” He looked uncertain, and Joe hated that he felt a little scared. If Tom wasn’t who they said he was, he would have been sure, wouldn’t he? He would have denied it, felt it deep in his gut. Joe was terrified by the fear in Tom’s eyes.

“Tom?”

“I…. No, it can’t be.” Tom gently cupped Joe’s face. How could those be the eyes of a cold-blooded killer? “I’m not a murderer. I know it’s my word against theirs, but you have to believe me. Joe, you know me.” He placed Joe’s hand against his chest over his heart. “In here. You know I’m not a killer.”