Janet Evanovich - Full Speed

"Let me get you another cup of coffee," Jamie said, grabbing his cup and walking away before he had a chance to respond. She carried his cup to the cashier, who refilled it.

When Jamie returned, he was still standing. She set the cup on the table instead of handing it to him. "I'm sorry I put you to so much trouble," he said. "I promise to be more careful." He started to sit down. "Would you like to join me?"

"Well, I—"

"Maybe you'd be safer where you were." Once again, he smiled.

She noted the smile didn't reach his eyes. He looked bereft. "Hold on, I'll grab my cup and donut."

Jamie returned and slid into the seat across from him. He seemed to take great caution in raising his cup to his lips, but she noted his hands were still shaking. She met his gaze over his cup. He was dark and attractive, with a thin scar running down one side of his face that didn't detract from his looks. She wondered if he'd been in a car accident at one time.

They were silent for a moment. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help overhearing what you said to the saleslady," Jamie said at last. OK, so it wasn't the honest-to-goodness truth, but she didn't want to admit to being nosy. "I sort of know what you're going through," she said. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"You lost someone recently?" he asked.

"I lost my father several years ago, but sometimes it seems like yesterday."

He nodded but didn't speak.

"Would you like to talk about your sister? I'm a good listener." When he hesitated, she hurried on. "Or maybe you don't feel like it. I don't mean to pry."

"You seem like a nice person."

Jamie took a sip of her coffee and tried to think of something to say, anything that might offer comfort. She didn't want to say the wrong thing as so many people had done when she'd first suffered her loss, people who tried to make her feel better by telling her that her father was in a better place or that at least he no longer had to suffer. If only they had talked less and listened more.

"Her name was Bethany. She was my twin."

"That makes it worse, doesn't it? Her being your twin and all, that is."

"Yes. We were inseparable."

"Do you have other family?"

He shook his head. "My parents are deceased. I have a few cousins, but we haven't kept in touch."

"What you need right now is a lot of support. That's what pulled me through."

"Oh, I have plenty of friends, but I don't want to burden them." He glanced at the bag beside him. "Would you mind taking a look at the dress I chose for my sister and telling me if you think it looks OK? I had to trust the saleslady, because I don't know what to buy for this sort of thing."

"I'll be glad to look at it," Jamie said. He handed her the bag, and Jamie pulled the dress out. It was a simple pink shift.

"I probably should have gone to the mall in Knoxville and picked out something nicer, but Bethany wasn't the dressy type. She preferred simple things."

"This dress is perfect, Mr …

"Michael. Michael Juliano."

"Jane Trotter," she said, deciding it was best to use the name as long as she was in Sweet Pea, even if she wasn't in disguise at the moment.

They shook hands. "I could use another cup of coffee," Jamie said. "How about you?"

"I'm fine, but I'll get you a cup."

Jamie was already on her feet. "I can do it." When she returned she found him talking on a cell phone. He looked angry.

"Tell the guy to come back when I'm around. He's not going to like the answer I give him, so if you or the others are afraid to stay let me know."

Jamie noted the tension in his face had brought back the deep lines around his eyes and mouth. Whatever it was, it had to be bad.

"I don't care what he says. I'm not afraid to go to the police. Look, I can't talk right now, OK?" He hung up and picked up his coffee.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Juliano?"

"Nothing I can't handle. And call me Michael." He glanced at his cell. "I just didn't need that call right now."

"You mentioned the police. Are you in some kind of danger?"

"Depends on what I'm willing to pay." He covered his eyes. "Oh, hell, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"I don't know what this is about, but if you're being threatened—"

"I don't know if the police can help," he interrupted. "I really shouldn't be talking about this." He sighed. "I should close shop and get out," he muttered to himself, and then gave a grunt of disgust. "I thought this sort of thing only happened in Jersey or Vegas." He looked at her. "Are you from here?"

She shook her head.

"Then you probably don't know how corrupt this town is. Like a bunch of piranhas just waiting to snatch up as much money as they can from honest, hard-working people."

"Are you being blackmailed?" she whispered.

Michael glanced around the room. "I shouldn't talk about it. The last thing I want to do is drag another person into it."

"I'm a good listener, Michael, and I know how to keep my mouth shut. Especially if it might jeopardize your safety," she added.

He met her gaze. Still, he refused to talk.

Jamie realized she was pushing, and that's the last thing she wanted to do. Vera had always accused her of being too softhearted where people were concerned. Vera always said, "If there's a bleeding heart out there, you can bet Jamie is going to find it."

"I'm butting in," Jamie said. "I'm sorry. I'll leave you with your coffee." She made to get up.

"You have to swear not to repeat this."

"Yes, of course."

"You can't say anything to anyone. I mean it. I just need to talk to someone. Someone who isn't involved," he added. He smiled. "I mean, what are the chances of us running into each other again?"

She nodded.

"Someone is trying to extort money from me. It's really hard for me to deal with it at the moment after what has happened with my sister. Too many nights sitting in a hospital, eating junk food, living on caffeine. It gets to a person after a while. Thing is, I think this person is counting on my recent loss to get the upper hand."

"Who is threatening you?"

"A couple of thugs," he said. "They're acting on somebody else's behalf, of course. The man in charge probably won't show his face until it's absolutely necessary. I don't know, but I assume that's the way it works."

"Do you know this person's name? The one in charge?"

"I have an idea who he is. He has quite an operation going."

"But do you know his name?" she repeated. He frowned. She was being pushy again, and she feared it would draw his suspicion. "I mean, in case you have to go to the police," she added quickly.

He glanced down at his coffee cup. "I've already said more than I should. "The less you know, the less anyone knows, the better."

Jamie suspected she was on to something. The gods must be with her, because the last thing she had expected was to meet up with somebody who might be able to give her some information, albeit unintentionally, but answers nevertheless. She didn't have enough to go on, and she might never see the man again, which meant she had to act fast.

"Listen, Michael, I haven't eaten, either." Which was true. Her donut was untouched, and it had suddenly lost its appeal. "There must be a restaurant nearby where you can enjoy a healthy breakfast. And you really look like you need a friend."

"You don't even know me."

"I believe things happen for a reason."

"What do you mean?"

"Well …" She paused. She was grasping at straws. "A lot of wonderful people helped me during my time of loss. If I can say one thing to help you, I've managed to return the favor." It sounded lame in her own ears, but he suddenly nodded as if it made complete sense to him. It didn't feel right that she was lying to him, using him, to get information, but it was necessary.