Even though Michael had grown up only eight miles from here, his world had been far different from Annie’s. She was a Callahan. Her grandpa was a respected man in town, and they lived in a nice house with rose-patterned windows by the door.
Eleven years ago he’d tried to be worthy of her. He’d backed away from his hoodlum friends, quit smoking and drinking. He even read a book of poetry she’d given him. He tried to be a better person, deserving of Annie’s attention. And he failed.
She returned from the kitchen with a plastic grocery bag and two foil-wrapped chocolates, which she held out toward him and he declined. “More for me,” she said.
She unwrapped them and popped one into each cheek, like a chipmunk. Then she picked up the brick chunk with two fingers. “Nothing remarkable about this piece of concrete.”
When she turned it over, he saw markings on the bottom side. “What’s that?”
Annie studied it. “Black marker. It’s numbers—six, one, three—and there’s a space between the six and the one.”
“Six, thirteen.”
“What do you think it means? A code? An address?”
“Maybe a date,” he said. “June thirteenth.”
It was the anniversary of the worst day of his life, the day his future died. Michael knew exactly why Bateman had thrown a brick through the window. It wasn’t to signal a break-in or to offer an opportunity for a sniper.
The brick was a reminder and a threat. Six. Thirteen. June thirteenth.
Annie placed the brick in a plastic grocery sack. “What does the date mean, Michael?”
He shook his head. He didn’t want to explain to her, but there seemed no way around it. It wasn’t fair to withhold information. “We’ll talk later.”
“Today’s the seventh. June thirteenth is less than a week away,” she said. “Should I be concerned?”
“Yes,” he said tersely. June thirteenth might be the date when Bateman intended to take his final revenge.
She eyed him curiously. “Well?”
“Not now,” he said. “Not with Engstrom upstairs.”
“Fine, we’ll get rid of him. And Bobby. They’re not acting like police, anyway.”
Michael followed her up the staircase to Lionel’s bedroom, where the old man was finishing a harangue about the spread of vandalism in small towns. “…the teenagers don’t respect private property because nobody bothers to teach them about right and wrong.”
Engstrom nodded. “You think teenagers broke your front-door window?”
“I’m not pointing any fingers,” Lionel said. “But Drew Bateman was hanging around earlier.”
“Bateman? I thought he was in jail.”
“He’s out on parole and he’s got some kind of grudge.”
Annie said, “I want to take out a restraining order against Bateman.”
Bobby edged closer to her. “Don’t you worry, Annie. I’ll keep an eye on you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said.
“No trouble at all,” Bobby said. “I’ll make a point of patrolling your block.”
A growl rose in the back of Michael’s throat. He was here to protect Annie and he didn’t want interference. He didn’t want anybody else to be close to her. Not Bobby. Not Jake Stillwell. Nobody.
And that wasn’t because he was jealous, damn it. He had solid reasons, in addition to the wrenching in his gut, and the unreasonable urge to give Bobby two black eyes so he’d never look at Annie again.
Bobby said, “I’d be happy to protect you, Annie. Day and night.”
“Not necessary.” Michael stepped forward, placing himself between them.
“Oh, yeah?” Bobby stared up at him. “Why not?”
“I’ll be here to see to Annie. She’s my…fiancée.”
Behind him, he heard her gasp. An instant later she jabbed him in the back with her good left hand.
“How come I don’t see a ring on her finger?” Bobby demanded. “Too cheap to buy a diamond, Slade?”
“She has a beautiful ring,” Lionel boomed from his bed. “These two lovebirds are honoring me by using the engagement ring that belonged to my late wife.”
“You!” Annie gripped the cherry-wood rail at the foot of her grandpa’s bed. She looked ready to leap over it and strangle him. “You set this up!”
“After all,” Lionel continued, drowning out her objection, “you don’t think I’d let a single man stay in the same house with my granddaughter if they weren’t planning to be married, do you?”
“I guess not,” Bobby said. But he was still suspicious. “When’s the wedding?”
“Maybe in the fall.” Michael took her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Maybe at Christmastime.”
Her jaw clenched. Her cheeks flamed with a feverish red flush. “If you think I’m going to stand here and—”
“She wants the wedding sooner.” He talked loudly to cover her words. “And you know how stubborn she can be. She’ll get what she wants.”
“Here’s what I want,” she said. “I want you to get your sorry—”
Michael pulled her close. He silenced her with a kiss.
She twisted in his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go. Later she could yell at him, but right now he needed to warn off all the tomcats in town. Whether she liked it or not, he intended to keep her safe, and a fake engagement was a small price to pay.
Though he had only intended to keep her quiet, his kiss became real when her struggle calmed. She wasn’t fighting him anymore. Her arms encircled and embraced him. Her lips were sweet and soft. Her supple curves molded to him, and the fire of her anger took on a passion of its own.
Her tongue flickered across his mouth, and Michael gladly welcomed her probing. He deepened the kiss, and she responded with a moan.
He was stunned by the intensity of her mature passion. Eleven years ago, their kisses had been gentle as a softly played flute. Now, Annie’s kiss was a full-blown symphony.
He wanted more. But not now. Not with three other men watching. Reluctantly he broke away.
“I guess that settles it,” the police chief said. “If you two aren’t engaged, you should be. Congratulations.”
“I’m a lucky man,” Michael said.
Annie’s blue eyes were dazed. Her full lips parted, but no words came out.
Before they left, Chief Engstrom promised to have Bobby and the other officers patrol the neighborhood regularly. “We’ll come back in the morning when there’s some light. Then we’ll see if we can find anything that looks like evidence.”
With Bobby trailing behind, Engstrom left the bedroom. Michael listened as the two men went down the stairs and out the front door.
From the bed Lionel chuckled. “Congratulations.”
“Pretending to be engaged is the best way to keep all these guys away from Annie,” Michael rationalized. “Until we know who Bateman is involved with, we can’t take chances.”
Lionel yawned broadly. “It’s a good plan. To tell you the truth, I was worried about what people would say when they found out you were staying here. I didn’t want Annie’s reputation to be ruined.”
“My