and her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn’t even sure he was breathing. He’d grabbed her without any effort, which just plain ticked her off. She tried to kick him again. His grip tightened.
“Do that again, and I won’t ever tell you a thing about Tyler.”
Dead silence filled the air. She wilted. He knew her Achilles’ heel...her son...their son.
“You going to run, or can I trust you?”
She didn’t answer, but her silence must have suggested she’d consider staying. His grip loosened and he leaned even closer. His breath brushed her cheek. The brick wall felt cool against her back, a contrast to DJ’s warmth washing over her.
This close, she took in the differences and similarities in him. He was older, bigger—angrier. Nine years was a long time. When she’d seen him last, he’d still been a boy getting ready to head to boot camp.
He wasn’t a boy anymore. No, he was a man. A powerful, ticked-off man. She swallowed her apprehension and fought the overwhelming urge to struggle. And then a thought crossed her mind. What if he’d lied to her just to get her to listen? He’d said he wouldn’t tell her about Tyler if she didn’t cooperate. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had done that. “Is he really okay?” she whispered.
DJ reached down to the thigh pocket of his fatigues and pulled out a piece of paper that she immediately realized was a photo.
She impulsively reached for it. He shoved it back into his pocket, but not before she was able to identify Tyler as the person in the photo. How could she not recognize that sweet, beloved little face? “What’s he holding?”
“Baby pigs,” DJ said. “Wyatt took it yesterday.”
“P-pigs?” she whispered.
“Yeah. We thought they might give him something positive to focus on. But guess if you don’t care—”
He stepped away, the cool night air replacing the heat of his body. Too casually, he bent to check out the bike without giving her another glance.
He was trusting she wouldn’t run? Or was he leaving her with that taunt? “What do you mean, if I don’t care?” She shoved her pack impatiently onto her shoulder.
DJ slowly straightened from where he’d crouched. “You tell me. You left him.” His gaze bored into hers, hot and angry, and she heard the rest of his unspoken message. And you didn’t even tell me that he existed.
She leaned toward him, as he seemed to dismiss her again, refocusing on the fallen bike. “You don’t understand,” she said. Her words made him look up. The intensity of his gaze made her take a step back.
“Then start talking. Explain.”
She wanted to scream, not in fear but in frustration. “I can’t.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“There’s no difference.”
“Oh, yes, there is.” He bent again, using his weight and strength to lift the bike from the pavement. Even in the dim streetlight, she saw the play of thick muscles across his back and the flexing of his thighs. She swallowed the sudden dryness in her throat.
Once the bike was upright, he circled it like a predator, rubbing a scratch here, a scrape there. Ignoring her. Ultimately, he seemed satisfied with its condition, and his shoulders visibly relaxed.
Tammie slumped back against the brick wall, trying to be as nonchalant as he was, and failing to ignore all the questions racing in her brain.
She was fairly certain he was debating something more than the bike, but she didn’t really know him, did she? Despite the fact that they’d been intimate, that her memories were filled with the boy she’d spent those nights with, the truth was that this man was a stranger to her. She shivered. A stranger who could, and most likely would, hurt her. Not physically. No, she knew that somehow. But he had the one thing that could hurt her most—Tyler.
She inched away as he paced. She hugged her backpack close, her security blanket.
“You promised him, damn it.” The words erupted from DJ’s throat, breaking the quiet night. His pacing brought him back to her, close enough to touch. She gripped the pack tighter. “You told him you were coming back.”
“I didn’t say when.”
“A week is an eternity to an eight-year-old. It’s been months.”
“I didn’t know it would take this long.”
“What would take this long?” he demanded, leaning in, blocking her path but not touching her. He waited silently and she knew he was debating what to do next.
“Okay, fine, Tammie.” He reached out and grabbed her arm again, gently but firmly. “Since you won’t tell me, you’re going to tell him the truth yourself.” He moved toward the big bike, not letting loose of her arm, essentially dragging her with him.
“I’ll scream if you don’t let go.”
He laughed. He actually laughed, glancing around the darkened street, looking mockingly at the alley she’d been trying to get to. “Don’t think anyone’s gonna hear you, darlin’,” he drawled.
They’d reached the bike when she wrenched her arm from his grasp so hard there’d probably be bruises later. She caught her balance before facing him.
“I’m sure they’ll hear me in the diner.” Derek would be in the back room washing dishes. It was only two blocks. He might hear her over the rattle of the plates and glasses in the racks as he sprayed them.
Yeah, who was she kidding?
“Maybe.” DJ crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her. “But will they do anything?”
They both knew no one would come to her defense. Not in this neighborhood. Not this time of night. Her heart sank. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.
DJ paced away. She didn’t bother running—he could catch her before she got far. But would he?
DJ cursed. “You have no idea what you did to him, do you?”
This was not going well. She’d done the right thing in sending Tyler to DJ. And in the same situation, she’d do it again. But without telling him everything, she couldn’t make him understand.
She closed her eyes, picturing her son’s sweet face, trying to pull the sound of his laughter from her memory. “I have my reasons. Good reasons. You have to believe me.” She turned and, instead of running, slowly backed away. “I can’t go with you. I won’t.”
The dim light blurred and she nearly stumbled on a broken concrete chunk she couldn’t see through her tears. She righted herself, and instead of crumbling, she lifted her chin and watched her step, hoping she looked more determined than scared.
The deep throaty roar of the motorcycle startled her, but she quickly recovered, keeping her stride steady and sure. He’d gotten the message. He wasn’t coming toward her. He was leaving. Going back to Tyler. She almost stumbled once more. In a couple of hours he’d be seeing her baby again while she’d still be here, waiting tables.
An ache settled tight in her chest.
Then the soft rumble came closer rather than fading. She looked over, expecting him to ride past. Instead, he left the engine running as he sat on the bike, using his booted feet to keep pace with her as she walked.
“You have your reasons?”
She nodded but didn’t explain or stop. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the picture, this time handing it to her.
He was going to kill her emotionally. She ignored him as she drank in the sweet image.
“Get on and you’ll see him once I’m satisfied with your answers.”
She