Sing for Your Supper by Jaime Samms Page B

you think I’d do that?”
    “No.” I eased my tight grip on the phone. “Was he alone?”
    “He came in alone, but I think there were a couple guys in his truck. What’d he do to you, Taylor?”
    “Nothing. It’s nothing. Thanks for letting me know.”
    “Hey. You need help—”
    “I know. I know. Thanks.”
    I hung up the phone, but for a long time, just stood there. I’d hoped Luke wasn’t still looking for me, that maybe he’d given up at last. But I’d cost him his job, and ruined his rep. He was probably as hard up for work as I was. This was a worse feeling than the gritty barn floor under my head as he used me. At least that I knew would be over. Six months of not quite catching up was a long time for him to work up just how much he hated me. He’d been willing to hurt me before. What did he have in mind now?
    “So.” Jim’s voice from the doorway of his room made me jump. Every nerve-ending in my body jangled with tension, and I whirled around. “You’d better tell me what you’re not running from there, Jumpy.”
    “I—”
    “Matt seems to think it was worth helping you. He’s a good judge of these things.”
    “I can be out of your hair in a few minutes,” I mumbled. “No need for you to get involved.” I had the sudden desire to be anywhere but in that room, telling this man anything about Luke Driscoll or the gut-gnawing fear he inspired.
    “Like hell.” Jim crossed the room in three long strides, grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him. “What do you think? I’m just the kind of guy who takes and doesn’t give a shit about how it affects people?”
    “N-no.” I knew my eyes went wide. I drew in deep breath after breath through my nose, trying desperately not to transfer everything I was feeling onto Jim. Just because he was big and brutish, because his eyes sparkled with anger didn’t make him anything like the man I was running from.
    He loosened his grip slightly, but didn’t let go. “Suit yourself. If this shit comes down on Matt, you’d better be ready to answer for that.” He didn’t quite push me away. “If you’re leaving, get the fuck out now. Otherwise, get your ass in the truck and get back to the barn, feed the horses and let them out. I’ll bring breakfast in a couple hours.”
    He took his truck keys and dropped them on the kitchen counter. “Coffee’s there.” One beefy finger jabbed the air in the direction of the dripping coffee pot, but he was already turning his back, headed for his room.
    I dressed quickly, stood, indecisive for a minute before snatching up the keys and heading to the truck. He’d offered to help, allowed me my privacy, and threatened me with bodily harm all in practically the same breath.
    And you still want what he gave you last night.
    I couldn’t deny it. And I now knew I was right about the tension around Matt. He had a strange way of showing he cared, but somehow, I knew he did. Whatever Matt was to him, he didn’t want the diner owner to come to harm, and I was suddenly very afraid that when Luke found out Matt had lied to him, that’s exactly what would happen.
    Halfway out the door, I stopped, went back to find a pen and scribbled a note on the pad of paper by the phone, telling him I’d gone into town to check on Matt. I had the sick feeling if I didn’t hurry, I’d be way too late to stop Luke taking out his frustration on him.

Chapter Nine

    I recognised Luke’s Durango immediately, parked crookedly in front of the diner.
    “Shit!” I jumped out of Jim’s truck and ran for the front door. The glass pane of the main door was shattered all over the porch. “Shit, shit, shit!”
    The bell jangled loudly in the stillness as I flung the door open and rushed inside. Tables and chairs had been overturned and the counter flung back on its hinges. I headed for the back and the stairs leading up to Matt’s apartment.
    “ Driscoll !” My voice rose an octave as I shouted, and a thump sounded just as I