Justice Reborn (Cowboy Justice Association Book 8) (22 page)

At the thought of what these men were doing to keep her safe, Josie’s mood immediately sobered. For a short while she’d let herself forget why they were here and what a monumental fiasco she’d made of her life.

“I hope we never need any of this,” she replied, her voice tremulous with suppressed emotion. If any of them were hurt because of this she’d never forgive herself. These men had wives and families that needed them. “I hope this is all for nothing and that they never find me.”

“Better to be safe than sorry, Josie. These people that are after you? They’re serious. They went after your friend and I guess we could conjecture all day long as to whether her death was an accident or deliberate, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s dead. That means that you now possess something they want. Badly. I don’t think we can overdo this. If anything, I hope the four of us are enough.”

Josie threw up her hands as tears filled her eyes. “I don’t even consider myself a Democrat or a Republican. I hate politics.”

“This isn’t about choosing sides. This is about truth and about whether some people are above the law. Personally, I don’t think anyone is but to some that’s an old-fashioned notion. No, Josie, this isn’t about which political party to vote for. This is about a man who says one thing and then does something else. This is about a man who will do anything to gain power. Right now, you’re the person standing in his way.”

If she wasn’t careful she’d end up as roadkill.

Chapter Twenty-Four

E
van didn’t waste any time beating around the bush.

As soon as the puzzled waitress – who had already seen him once before in the same morning – scuttled away to fill their order, he went straight to the point.

“What are you doing here, Marisa? I mean, really? I’m not going back so if that’s why you’re here you are wasting your valuable time.”

A flush creeped onto her cheeks and she gave a huff as her coffee was placed in front of her along with Evan’s iced tea. “Can’t a friend come visit another friend?”

“They can and you have but this is more. This isn’t about checking to see how far I am on my projects. So spill it so we can move on.”

Stirring cream and sugar into her coffee, Marisa sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m here because you are wasting your life and your talents. You are a great lawman and you are letting it all go to hell by sticking yourself in this backwater town and cleaning up a house you know you don’t want to live in. What you’re doing is a travesty, Evan. You need to be back on the job and I don’t mean going back to be a small town sheriff. That was almost as much of a waste of time as what you’re doing now.”

Evan wasn’t a big fan of people telling him how to live his life. Since the day he’d slapped his badge down on the mayor’s desk he’d swore he was going to do only the things he wanted to do. Other people’s expectations weren’t needed or wanted.

Schooling his features, he kept his voice even despite his irritation. “I don’t think it’s your place to decide what is or isn’t a waste of my time and talent. Last I checked you weren’t my mother or my wife and hell, they wouldn’t even get a vote at this point in my life. You’re my friend, Marisa, but you are skating on thin ice here. Watch yourself.”

Flushing a deeper shade of red, she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I’m just trying to help you. You’re not thinking straight since the shooting. You’ve thrown everything you worked for away but it doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Not thinking straight?” Evan repeated, an amused smile on his face. “Is that a polite way to say that I’m crazy? Or stupid? I just want to be sure of what you’re saying to me.”

Marisa slapped her cup down on the table so loudly heads turned all the way in the kitchen. “Now you’re just being a jerk. I never said any of that.”

He was enjoying this more than he should but she’d brought this on herself by interfering in something that wasn’t any of her business. “So now I’m crazy and a jerk? Honestly, I don’t know why you’re friends with me then. And it sounds like I shouldn’t be a marshal either if my judgment is so fucked up. You should run back to Tampa while you have the chance.”

“Just stop it,” she hissed, leaning forward so only he could hear her. “I’m trying to help you and you’re trying to be an asshole. I care about you, Evan. It’s killing me to see you waste away doing nothing with your life. You have so much to give the service but you refuse to even consider it. You could have your own team.”

She didn’t understand and probably never would.

“I don’t want my own team,” Evan said as gently as he could. She was right; he was being unnecessarily cruel. Her intentions were good although she needed to realize when to give up and move on. “I’ve never wanted that. Sitting at a desk, going to boring-ass meetings, and filling out paperwork is not my idea of fun. If it’s yours I worry about your sanity, frankly. And before you say anything, no, I don’t care that I would be the boss.”

Marisa sipped her coffee as if formulating her next plan of attack. He knew her too well to think she’d give up so easily.

“Okay, let’s try something different. What do you want to do then? You can’t stay here the rest of your life. You must have a plan of some sort.”

Evan thought about the stories he’d written and how Josie had raved over them. She’d given him some excellent suggestions and had encouraged him to expand them into a full-length thriller novel.

“I have plans,” he replied, choosing not to go into detail. “They just aren’t the kind of plans that you’d want. But – and I hate to state the obvious – I’m not you. I’m older and a hell of a lot more tired, Marisa. I don’t want to climb the ladder anymore. I’ll leave that to you.”

“You’re not that old.”

Evan shrugged and dug into the apple pie the waitress placed in front of him. Thankfully he was always hungry and a second trip to the diner didn’t faze his appetite.

“I’m not that young either,” he countered with a laugh. “Talk to me in ten years and we’ll see if you still feel the same. I’ll give you the preview now. Your job won’t keep you warm at night or give a shit when you’ve been shot off the top of an armored truck. It won’t help you when the road is rough nor celebrate when times are good. In other words, the only thing a job does is pay the bills. And honey, lots of things can do that.”

The fork with her coconut cream pie paused halfway to her mouth. She was looking at him like he’d lost his mind, which didn’t surprise him. She thought the Marshal Service was everything.

“I’m not talking about a job, I’m talking about a career. A job is flipping burgers. This is about building something that’s bigger than yourself.”

“And you want the thing you create to be in some god-awful government entity? No, thank you. I’ll build a legacy another way and in another place.” He set his fork down, levity gone from his features. He needed to make sure she heard him loud and clear. “The decision has been made. There is no more discussion or debate to be had. It’s a done deal. Please respect my wishes on this.”

Marisa’s gaze fell to the table and she fiddle with her napkin. “Is she supportive of your decision?”

She? His mother?

“What are you talking about? Who are you talking about?”

Tossing the napkin to the side, she picked up her fork. “You know who I’m talking about. Her. I saw you hustling a woman into the house when I drove up. How long have you been together? Is it serious?”

Protecting someone from being killed or wrongfully imprisoned was about as serious as one could get.

“What makes you think she’s my girlfriend?” Instead of answering, Evan threw back another question at Marisa. For obvious reasons he wasn’t going to discuss Josie with her. Hopefully, she’d only caught a quick glimpse but it had obviously made an impression. Another sign that Marisa had been more emotionally involved than he had. “She could be Reed’s wife Kaylee.”

“Is she?”

Once again Evan found his patience with Marisa running thin. His life wasn’t any of her business.

“Where are you going with this line of questioning and what do you hope to gain from it? I don’t ask you about who you might be dating. My opinions on your career and love life don’t matter in the least and I’m sure you’d tell me that too, so I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

Marisa’s fingers ran up and down the side of her coffee cup. “We had a good thing going. Is it so unheard of that I might be wondering if you want to pick up where we left off?”

He didn’t even know what to do with that question. They hadn’t “left off” anywhere.

“We had some fun,” Evan agreed carefully, watching her expression closely. He didn’t want to hurt Marisa but he’d never had an emotional attachment to her other than friendship. “But I don’t think we were ever in love or anything. Am I wrong here?”

“No, but who knows what could happen. We understood each other and the job. It could be like that again.”

After making love to Josie Evan couldn’t go backward. He wanted so much more than he’d ever had with Marisa and he was sorry she didn’t see that what they’d shared was a piss poor substitute to a real honest to God relationship.

Evan shook his head but reached out to pat Marisa’s hand. “We’re not in that place anymore. Besides, a friends with benefits relationship has no future. It simply exists for a time. If everyone is happy, it’s great. But I wouldn’t be happy with it. Not anymore. I know you don’t like things to change but it’s inevitable.”

Marisa’s eyes had gone wide and her mouth hung open. “Are you saying you want…to get married and have kids? Like that white picket fence shit? Jesus, Evan, what’s happened to you? I think the Florida sun has turned your brain into mush. You never used to be so sentimental. Now you say you want a family? Next thing you’ll tell me you want a dog and you’re going to name it Fluffy.”

He drained his iced tea and laughed at her horrified expression. The same look was on her face as when he told her he didn’t have any air conditioning. “I like dogs and kids. As to whether I want to get married and start a family, hell, I don’t know. But I didn’t really have a choice before, the job consumed almost every waking moment. But now I can decide. And that’s what this is all about – me making the decisions. I’m the captain of this ship and dammit, I decide. It’s all about control and I’m not giving it up.”

Shoving her plate away, she dabbed her napkin on her lips. “So that woman…is she Reed’s wife? Or is she your girlfriend?”

They weren’t going to continue this conversation. Evan’s patience with Marisa had run out.

“Maybe. Or maybe she’s the housekeeper. Or my secret love child from my high school sweetheart. Or maybe she’s a headhunter for a multi-billion dollar corporation and they want me to be their new CEO. It doesn’t matter who she is. She’s not a part of our discussion.”

Marisa slumped down into the booth, her lower lip stuck out slightly like a child who didn’t get ice cream.

“I think you’re being stubborn. I also think that eventually you’ll regret not going back. Maybe not now and not tomorrow, but sooner or later. And it will be too late.”

“Then that’s on me,” Evan replied, using his most no-nonsense tone. “If I make a mistake I will own it. Now can we drop this subject? I’d like to hear all about you. What’s going on in Marisa-land?”

She clearly didn’t want to let go but she did, nodding and launching into a tale of how incompetent her new partner was and how she had to train him to do every little thing. Evan only half-listened, instead watching her body language and facial expressions as she spoke. She was upset. Angry, even. Frustrated too.

He might have ruined a good friendship this morning, and that made him sad. But he wouldn’t allow anyone to push him into decisions that he knew were wrong. He hated the wall of tension that had sprung up between them but she had built it herself with her insistence on forcing her opinion regarding matters that were personal.

It was what separated Josie from so many others. She only wanted what made him happy. No agenda.

He was a lucky man, and he intended to stay that way.

Chapter Twenty-Five