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JACKSON
Jackson checked behind him, using the mirror to his advantage. But he had two other sets of eyes in here—agents who hadn’t been at the warehouse—and he had to trust they’d cover him if things went horribly wrong.
Still, the threat might not be coming from behind him.
Whatever Anna was up to, she was not going to play nice with him. Not easily. And he hadn’t expected her to.
But she also hadn’t denied anything—she’d just told him to get out.
She knew he’d seen her fatal shot and while she was smart enough not to bother to deny it, she wasn’t going to give him an inch more.
He was going to have to earn it.
But how?
He’d already given her his given name, although it was possible Diaz had already figured that out by now.
The front door flung open, slamming into the wall behind it, and Jackson’s gaze snapped from his glass to the mirror.
Diaz had arrived.
Jackson didn’t change his posture, he didn’t react.
Diaz was storming toward them, but Jackson wasn’t sure if Anna was the target or himself.
Neither of them moved.
His eyes shot to Anna and for a split second he saw fear but then it glossed over, like she had a remote control for her emotions and she’d changed the channel. He’d have taken a moment to marvel at her mind control if Diaz hadn’t been storming toward them.
Without moving an inch, Jackson mentally prepared himself for some kind of altercation.
But Diaz strode up to the bar, pulled out the stool next to Anna, and ordered a drink.
He looked to Jackson, then to Anna.
“Who’s this?” he demanded.
Anna shrugged. “He’s passing through town and thought it was a good place to have a drink.” The corner of her lips tipped up slyly. Coyly. Like there was an inside joke between them.
Diaz looked to him. “Get out,” he said, nodding toward the door.
Jackson looked down at this drink. “I’m not finished,” he said, like he had no idea who Diaz was and was not interested in taking orders from anyone.
Diaz glared violently. “I said: Get. Out.”
The positive side of this interaction was that Jackson was certain Diaz didn’t recognize him.
He weighed his options.
He could get up and leave, or he could use this to his advantage.
“Man, I’m just having a drink. It’s been a long day. I’ll leave when I’m finished,” he said, ignoring the heat from Diaz’s eyes.
Diaz’s eyes flickered to Anna, who shrugged like she had no idea what was going on.
“I don’t care how long your day has been. This is my bar, and I told you to get out. Leave my girlfriend alone and get out before I make you finish that drink and the glass ends up down your throat.” His words were short and clipped.
Jackson tipped the last of his whiskey down his throat, giving himself some time to think.
