Street Safe (16 page)

“I do want you here,” Street began. “I wouldn’t have told Miles otherwise.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

He regarded her a moment and she allowed him to see her annoyance.

“All right.”

She nodded. “Good. Lay on your stomach.”

He didn’t budge.

“Come on, humor me.”

After a moment he did as she requested. She settled on the bed beside him, popped the flip top and poured a generous amount of the sweet scented liquid in her hands.

Gently she worked the oil into his leg, increasing pressure as the muscle loosened. She worked her hands over his back, noting the two small circular scars just under his right shoulder blade. She’d have to ask him about that another time.

“I see why they gave you those awards and medals.” She moved down his spine, relishing the slide of his skin beneath her fingertips. Another time and place she’d follow the curve of his spine with her tongue, but right now would be just for him.

“It isn’t that I don’t trust you, Na’arah,” he said.

“Rue.”

He rolled over and captured her hands. “Listen to me.”

She sat back and crossed her arms over her breasts.

Street blew out a breath. “This is hard enough as it is. I was told I may never have children, something to do with my exposure to some heavy metals or whatnot during the fire.” He waited for her condemnation or worse, her ridicule at him being less than a man. He’d heard it all before, but he could’t bear to hear it from her.

For a long moment she studied him.

He resisted the urge to fidget beneath her careful scrutiny. Why didn’t she say something?

“But the doctors didn’t say it was an impossibility?”

He opened his mouth to correct her and stopped. Had they said it would be impossible or just difficult? Hope leapt within his heart. He’d have to find out for sure. He met her gaze, expecting to read triumph or even smugness, but all he saw was understanding.

“Why didn’t you tell me that in the beginning?”

“Because I wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you.”

There it was again, that look of total admiration and trust. He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. She really needed to stop looking at him like that. He rubbed his thigh, appreciative that it wasn’t throbbing and aching.

“I didn’t expect you to be happy about the baby, but I didn’t expect the reaction I did get,” she said. “But I do understand.”

He inclined his head. “Thank you.”

“So what do we do now?”

“You need to get some rest.”

She shook her head. “I can’t go back to sleep. All I see is darkness.”

He caressed the curve of her cheek. “Just lay down. Are you still nauseous? I can run downstairs and grab ginger ale.”

“No.” A faint smile tipped her lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. They just beat him, Rue. I can’t get the sound or smell out of my head.” She studied the rumpled bedspread, wrapping her arms around her legs and drawing them to her chest. “I didn’t want to die.”

He laid a hand over hers. “You survived, sweetheart.”

She rested her cheek on her knees and looked him in the eye. “What if they find me?”

“Then I’ll have to show them the error of their ways.”

A single red rose lay on her pillow when she opened her eyes. Na’arah smiled and brought the flower to her nose. Maybe he wasn’t all salt and vinegar.

“I was hoping you’d sleep more than an hour.” Street lounged against the doorframe. He carried a wicker breakfast tray.

She sat up, pushing her hair from her face. “Thanks for staying up with me. I know you have a job to do and...”

“It’s not a problem.” He settled the tray over her lap. “That thing? You did with my leg? Thank you.”

Such vulnerability clung to his light brown eyes that she felt an answering tug at her heart. He’d held her all through the night.

“You were in pain.” She shrugged and studied the tray. He’d made oatmeal and toast. A small bowl of chopped fresh fruit with apples, grapes and strawberries also tempted her appetite. No one ever made her breakfast in bed. “This is wonderful.”

“I did a little research on the Internet and read that if you have something on your stomach morning sickness isn’t as bad. Oh and I didn’t put any butter on the oatmeal or toast. I read that the oils can nauseate you too.”

She grinned. For someone who didn’t think he could father a child he sure did a lot of reading. She picked up her fork and speared a chunk of apple. The slightly tart flavor exploded on her tongue and slid down her throat. Never had anything tasted so good.

Street eased onto the bed. “Would you like to go to the movies later?”

She paused, fork in midair.

“It would have to be a matinee. I have to work this afternoon.”

“I’d like that.”

****

For once Street didn’t think about the reasons that brought Na’arah to him, but concentrated on her. She was funny and witty and just as interesting as she was the first time he met her..

He studied her profile as she seemed absorbed in the film. He’d told her things he hadn’t told anyone else and she still looked at him like he was everything. How could she do that after all this time? Hell, he hadn’t even remembered her name when she first walked into the bar.

So here they were on their second official date. He twined his fingers with hers. She glanced at him and flashed a quick smile. That one tiny gesture spoke volumes, sent his heart into overdrive and made him feel invincible.

She rested her head on his shoulder and he shifted so he could bring her closer. He was consumed by a sense of belonging. Somehow, in a short amount of time this woman had wound her way into his heart, or maybe she’d never left and he’d been looking for her all along.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered and shoved the bucket of popcorn at him.

He half rose from his chair. “What do you need?”

She shook her head. “I’m perfectly capable of going to the bathroom by myself.”

“Yeah, but I’m not supposed to let you outta my sight.”

“There’s no sense in both of us missing the movie. I’ll be fine.”

Before he could raise another protest she slipped from the row and disappeared into the dark. He shouldn’t worry, but anything could happen. Street labored to his feet and maneuvered the shallow risers. A sense of urgency propelled him from the theater and into the hall.

A muffled shriek and a flash of movement snagged his attention. He hurried down the corridor to his left in time to see Na’arah being dragged toward an exit.

“Hey!” he shouted.

The masked man paused long enough to lock gazes with him. A flicker of recognition clouded the man’s eyes and Na’arah took a swipe at the man. He then shoved Na’arah toward Street and escaped through the exit.

Street closed his arms around Na’arah as they toppled to the floor. They lay there panting. She trembled in his embrace and he stroked her hair.

“You’re okay now.”

Her head brushed his chest while she squeezed him a little harder.

“I’ve got you sweetheart.”

“I didn’t even make it to the bathroom.”

He untangled his limbs from her and helped her sit up. He smoothed her hair from her face and cupped her cheek. Carefully he looked her over, but other than a few tears, she didn’t have any bruises. He pulled her close, needing the assurance that she was real and safe.

“He came out of nowhere,” she mumbled against his shoulder.

“Did he say anything?”

“Nothing.”

Street stood and tugged her to her feet. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She nodded. “I scratched him.” For a moment she clung to him, and her eyes implored him. “What do they want from me? I don’t even know what they look like.”

He clasped her to him, inhaling her sweet scent and trying to infuse as much comfort as he could into his embrace. The first time he was out and he failed to keep her safe. He held her tighter. She squirmed.

“You’re crushing me,” she squeaked out.

“Sorry.” He chuckled, loosened his grip but did not release her. “Let’s get out of here.”

By the time they reported the near abduction to management and the local police and returned Na’arah to his apartment above the bar, Street was late for his shift.

Miles sat in his usual spot at the counter. Seeing the lawman as if he didn’t have a care in the world irritated him.

“Why haven’t you found anything?” Street demanded.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

“Some idiot tried to drag her out of the movies.” He pinned Miles with a hard look. “You need to do more.”

“What more would you like me to do? You know how these things work. It takes time to process the evidence.” Miles sipped his coffee. “Did either one of you get a good look at the perp?”

Street wiped down the bar to dispel some of his anger. “He was wearing a ski mask.” He paused. “There was something familiar about him though.” He resumed cleaning the countertop. That was the one point he kept worrying. The man recognized him, but Street couldn’t figure out who it was.

Thankfully Na’arah was safe and she didn’t blame him. Too bad he couldn’t forgive himself for the mistake. Since she’d walked back into his life it seemed like someone else’s life, but knowing Na’arah would be waiting for him settled a missing piece in his heart. For the first time in years, he felt whole, but he needed to know if the baby she was carrying was his.

That one small detail just would not let him rest. After being told he could not have a family and Na’arah ended up pregnant...well, he didn’t want to get his hopes up, even though he was warming to the idea of being a father.

“I don’t know how much longer she can prowl around or I can keep her safe.”

“You getting on Arah’s nerves already?”

Street frowned. “Why do you call her that?”

“Call her what?” Miles grabbed a handful of nuts and popped them in his mouth.

Derrick slid onto a stool. “What’s up?”

Street looked over the newcomer. “What happened to your head?”

He grinned. “You forget already? Your girl beaned me.”

Miles studied him and narrowed his eyes. “That looks like you’ve been scratched.”

Derrick touched his temple and shrugged. “How ‘bout a drink? I’ve had a rough day giving carriage rides to snotty tourists.”

Street and Miles exchanged looks, then he shrugged and Street picked up a bottle of Scotch.

“Where is Arah?”

“I left her in my apartment, but her sister is stopping by later.” Street muttered. “You need to stop calling her that.”

Miles chuckled. “Didn’t I tell you not to let her out of your sight?”

“Here.” He snapped a Scotch in front of Derrick and topped off the coffee.

Both men eyeballed their drinks. “Coffee?”

“No double?”

Street glared at Miles. “You have a murderer to catch and you,” he glanced at Derrick, “are already tipsy.”

Miles eyed Street a moment. “What’s really going on?”

Street froze. “Nothing.” From the corner of his eye a patron waved from the end of the bar. “Duty calls.”

The last thing he wanted to discuss was his love life or lack thereof.

“I signed you up for the race,” Derrick called after his fleeing back.

Street rolled his eyes and continued down the counter. Meddling friends. He took the order and returned with two beer bottles. Beau approached the bar, offered a head nod to the men seated and waited for his order.

“When is Arah supposed to arrive?” Miles said when Street returned.

He glanced at his watch. “Any minute now. What’s up?” Street opened two more bottles of beer and stuck a lime wedge into the opening of each.

“She called in the 911 a couple months back when Auggie got jumped. I want to see if she saw anything.”

Derrick choked on his drink and coughed.

Beau stumbled, nearly spilling his tray. He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder, stilling the bottles before continuing on.

“Watch where you’re going!” Miles muttered.

“She what?” Street mopped up the droplets and handed Derrick a glass of water.

Miles checked his shirt, then dusted off a piece of lint. “Yeah. Didn’t find out until last night. I think the two are related.”

Derrick continued to cough.

“What’s up with your manager. He’s been real twitchy lately?” Miles whacked Derrick on the back and the other man slid off the stool.

“I’ll be back.” Derrick managed between spasms and headed toward the restrooms at the rear of the building.

“Haven’t a clue, but he works his shift, the till balances and he doesn’t water down my top shelf product.”

“Well, what’s going on with Derrick?”

Street stared after his friend and shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s been acting a little strange ever since my uncle died.”