Assumed Identity - By Julie Miller Page 0,53
or Emma.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked, trailing her finger across the counter and discovering that what the apartment lacked in personality, it made up for in cleanliness. That was a good sign, right? Or maybe it was a vigilant effort to hide something she should be seeing.
“Since I got the job at the Shamrock Bar.” Jake pulled out a ratty leather satchel and stuffed a clean change of clothing inside. “I wanted a place within walking distance of work.”
“You don’t have a car?”
The bag clunked when he set it on the table, and Robin startled back a step. Whatever was inside was a lot heavier than some spare underwear. “Don’t need one if I’m not going anyplace.”
Surely, with all that cash she’d seen him stuff into the front pocket of his jeans, he could afford some kind of transportation. She tried not to dwell on what Detective Montgomery had said about how not being in the DMV database made Jake particularly hard to track. It had been a relief to learn he had no arrest record. But she still had no explanation for why he made such a concerted effort to hide from the world.
Curiosity had her peeking into the singed leather bag while he pulled a black hoodie from the closet. “What’s in here? All your worldly possessions?”
“Robin, don’t—”
Too late. “Oh, my God. What is all this?”
“I asked you not to look,” he snapped.
Before Jake could zip the bag shut, she saw the cache of weaponry and reached inside. Curiosity instantly changed to fear. Or maybe that was anger.
“Don’t yell at me,” she chided. She picked up something that looked like a small hand grenade. “Why do you have these things?” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Emma was still asleep in her carrier—as if shielding her daughter from the sight could shield her from the danger. “You can’t have this arsenal around my daughter.”
He plucked the grenade from her hand. “You already know I carry a knife and a gun.”
“But all this? Are you expecting World War Three?” She’d seen boxes of bullets, a variety of knives and something that looked like pieces of a broken rifle. “This is crazy. I mean, is this even legal? Where did you get them? Do you know how to use them all?” Even as she said the words, she was waving the question aside and turning toward Emma. Of course he knew how to use them. That’s why he didn’t want to police to know who he was. That’s why he hid from society. And she’d brought her baby here? “What kind of man are you?”
Jake opened the bag to replace the grenade thingee and stuffed the sweatshirt in beside it. “You’re just now getting curious about who I am? After you sought me out and invited me into your life?”
“No, I’ve been curious all along, but I was respecting your privacy. It seemed so important to you.” Robin picked up the carrier and headed to door. She was feeling anger, all right. Anger at herself for trusting her life to this enigma of a man for even one moment. It was disconcerting, too, to feel this sense of hurt. That could only mean she felt something for Jake, and caring for such a dangerous, difficult man made her a bigger fool yet. “This was a mistake.”
“I thought you wanted a big, bad S.O.B.”
She stopped with her hand on the knob and turned. He’d braced his hands on the tabletop, framing that bag of weapons with his shoulders, drilling her with those icy eyes and looking all kinds of intimidating. All Robin saw was the effort to shut her out. “I thought things had changed between us tonight. To find out you’ve been watching over us all along? That’s...sweet.”
“Sweet?” He sneered as if the word was a foreign concept to him.
“You must care on some level. And that kiss? That was more than— I don’t let just anyone—” She tried to think of the right word to fit the tension simmering between them, and how this mysterious man had already gotten around her emotional defenses. But the words weren’t there. The answers she needed weren’t, either. “I think I have a right to know more about you. But every time I ask a question, you give me some cryptic response or nothing at all. I want to trust you, Jake. I thought I did. But the more I’m with you, the more I feel like an