Page 3 of Crossroads of Innocence
“Sorry about the wait. What can I get ya?”
Terror and excitement grabbed hold of her vocal cords, refusing to let her speak. Her mouth went dry. She licked her lips, willing for either words to pop out of her mouth or Wade to lose interest and walk away.
“Miss.?”
Shaking her head, she opened her eyes and lowered her hood. She stared down at the weathered wood. He wouldn’t recognize her. Not yet. Not with her hair dyed pink and tucked under a baseball hat.
“Is everything all right?”
The concern in his voice misted her eyes. She’d missed him so damn much. Sniffing back any more useless tears, she dashed away the unwanted dampness and finally met Wade’s wide, blue eyes.
His mouth dropped, and he took a step back as if her presence repelled him. “What…what the hell are you doing here?”
2
Aweird energy crackled in the air around Wade. He gripped the edge of the bar, partly to anchor himself so he didn’t fall over and partly to make sure everything around him was real. He hadn’t seen or heard from Jude in so long. Then within a five-minute span a detective flashes her picture with no mention of why and then she pops up like a damn ghost.
“I had to come back. I didn’t have a choice.”
He blinked, long and slow, as if her words didn’t register. “You’ve been gone for twelve years. No phone call. No email. No letting me know you were alive. And now you waltz into my bar as if nothing happened?”
She winced then took off her baseball hat. She lifted her chin so the light from the neon signs bounced off the deep bruise that circled her eye. “Please, Wade. I need your help before he finds me again.”
A hundred questions pounded against his brain, but only one mattered. “Who gave you the black eye?”
Jude’s skin grew impossibly paler. She ducked her chin and shoved the blue ball cap back on her head, tucking in the dull pink strands of hair. She darted her gaze around, as if whoever hit her would pop up and clock her again.
“Jude?”
She winced at the sound of her name and squeezed the straps of the pack hooked on her shoulders.
His pulse picked up. Shit. He might not know why she was here, or why some random detective had flashed her photo five minutes before, but she was terrified. He couldn’t let her stand around and quiver, waiting for the whatever she feared to show up. “Head upstairs. I’ll get someone to cover the bar. Then we can talk.”
Indecision crinkled her brow, and she bit into her bottom lip. “Are you sure?”
He glanced over his shoulder at Chet, who stared at him with recognition clear in his wide eyes. “Yeah. It won’t be long before more people realize who you are. Not what you want if you’re trying to stay under the radar. I’ll ask Chet to cover for me and meet you in a few minutes.”
She reached out as if to cover his hand with hers, letting it hover for a beat before dropping it back at her side. “Thank you.”
He watched her until she disappeared behind the door to the stairwell then scrubbed a palm over his face. His whiskers scratched his skin, but the sensation barely registered. Not when his body hummed and mind raced.
Needing to snap out of the annoying stupor weighing him down, he forced his feet to carry him to Chet. Shouts for drink refills and requests from servers went unanswered. Hell, if Chet couldn’t help him out, he’d close the damn bar. Something was wrong and he needed to get to the bottom of it then get Jude out of town so he could try his damnedest to forget about her all over again. He’d barely survived her leaving him the first time. He couldn’t afford to get tangled up with her.
“Was that…?” Chet left the rest of his question hang in the noisy air.
Wade nodded.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Chet let out a loud whistle. “Something big must be happening. First the detective, then Jude. What’s going on?”
He shrugged. “Not sure but I’m going to find out. Any way you can man the bar while I talk to her? She has one hell of a shiner. Says she needs help.”
“Can you handle that?” Chet frowned, clearly not believing Wade speaking with Jude was the best idea.
“Don’t have much of a choice. Can you help or not?”
“Sure.” Standing, Chet downed the rest of his whiskey then hurried behind the bar.
Wade didn’t have to waste time explaining the job to Chet. His buddy had helped at this family-owned bar since before he could legally buy a drink—his parents careful not to let any of the underage kids who picked up shifts after school serve alcohol. But Chet had continued lending a hand whenever needed as the years came and went, which left Wade to shoot him a quick thanks before hurrying upstairs to find Jude instead of walking him through what needed done.
