Breaking Barriers (Love Is Book 8) Read online

  The Worm could feel the cash in his hands. “I hope you idiots don’t go public as Out to Exploit Others. Nobody will go for it.”

  “Of course not. This time we’re thinking of making the mantra Enlightened Fairness for All.” Randolph shrugged his shoulders. “Or, whatever works, whatever people want to hear right now, possibly something about finances and fairness. Yeah, I like that. We’ll see.”

  The Worm knitted his eyebrows. It was hard to think around Randolph with grand ideas and schemes flowing from his mouth like a rushing river. “Next time I’ll follow her for a while and find a better place to attack. I’ll pull it off. You’ll see.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ann stared at the beige plastic chairs lined up against the stark white wall. Still unable to fathom someone attacking her, she meandered across the room in a fog as James held on to her arm. She lowered herself into a seat, and thankfulness he was here filled her heart as he sank down beside her. What a kind, considerate man.

  “You still doing okay?” Concern lined his voice.

  “I think I’m all right.”

  “You told Officer Northcut you didn’t know anyone who could have attacked you.”

  Ann’s heart beat fast. Did her father hate her enough to ambush her in a parking lot? He used to hit her when she was little. Back then her muscles always tensed when he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen from one of his fishing expeditions. Even if he didn’t light into her, the fear that he would gripped her like a vice. In a few days he’d say he loved her, leave, and repeat the pattern. A shiver ran up Ann’s spine. If that was love, she wanted no part of it. He was so busy fishing. She hadn’t seen him in over a year. Surely, it wasn’t him.

  Beau. Was it her brother? Almost a year ago he’d vandalized her apartment simply because he was angry she had a good life. Dad had kept him working at the fish market, making it impossible for him to go to college. But she straightened that out. He was at Florida College now. Ann thumped her fingers on her knee.

  It could be Freddie Smithers. Ann’s boss, Harold Craven, hired him to work in the new men’s department, which was under construction beside Beach Lady. Freddie left much of the store’s grunt work, such as tidying up after the customers, getting out new stock, labeling, and arranging garments for her. She’d thought of saying something to Harold, but he and Freddie had become chums. If she were out of the way, Freddie probably could become the manager.

  James peered at her with questioning blue eyes. “How about someone from the anti-Christian movement?”

  “No. I think it was a guy I know. None of those against Christianity realize True Light Guardians exists.” She took a deep breath, hoping to relieve the pain in her head. “All the more reason to make sure only devoted Christians learn of it.”

  A nurse strolled into the room. “Ann Jones.”

  James gave Ann a thumbs-up. “I’ll be here.”

  The farther away from James Ann stepped, the more unsteady she grew. How could someone she just met fill her with security?

  A chill fell over her as she followed the nurse into a sterile, white room, the antiseptic smell reminding her of invasive instruments she wanted to avoid. The nurse motioned toward the examining table, and Ann plopped down. She focused on trying to be well as the nurse took her blood pressure and temperature.

  “The doctor will be in soon.”

  Ann twisted the sheet until a slender man with balding salt and pepper colored hair entered. He tapped his pen on a chart. “I understand you were attacked. Let’s make sure you’re all right.” He removed a stethoscope from around his neck and listened to her heart. “Good.” He returned the instrument, pulled a small light from his jacket pocket, and shined it in her eyes. “Okay. Now, follow my finger.” He moved it back and forth. “Can you hop on one foot?”

  Ann slid off the table and did as he asked.

  “I believe you’ll be fine. If you have any nausea or dizziness, call us immediately. Wait here. Someone will help you out.”

  An orderly with dark eyes and a wide smile entered. “Ready to go?” he asked as he pulled a wheelchair through the doorway.

  “I sure am.”

  He ambled to Ann, clasped her arm, and helped her into the conveyance. “Let’s blow this joint.” He rolled her to the ER glass doors. “We sent Mr. Crawford to bring around the car. He should be here soon.”

  Would Freddie try to finish the job at her condo? Ann rubbed her thumb against her forefinger over and over until James pulled into the circular drive. The ambulances and vehicles in the distance grew to a blur in her mind as she focused only on him.

  The sense of security she had as a child at the sight of her favorite stuffed animal, a small fuzzy kitten, swept over her. She couldn’t stand and slip into the passenger’s seat of his vehicle soon enough. She waved to the orderly then looked over at James. “I’m sure you had something better to do this evening.”

  “Nope. This is good.” He grinned.

  Ann shared a comfortable silence with James as they rode to the bank. It reminded her of the way she relaxed around her mother without having to carry on a conversation. How could she feel at ease around James so quickly? Whatever the reason, after the stress of the evening, thankfulness for a moment to simply breathe with someone swelled in her chest.

  He pulled in and parked. “Ahh, here we are. I’ll follow you home to make sure you arrive safely.”

  Ann’s mouth gaped, but she snapped it shut. Why was James really willing to go to so much trouble for her? “It’s not necessary, but if you like, the least I can do is offer you a cup of coffee.”

  The corners of James’s lips spread into a wide smile. “Sounds good.”

  A soft sigh of relief escaped her lips. She wouldn’t have to enter her condo alone. She opened the door, hopped out, and slipped into her black coupe. She started the engine and drove past beach shops and marquees on Highway 98. The colorful, blinking lights advertising sales usually cheered her, but not tonight.

  Finally she turned onto Bay Street and pulled up in front of her unit. She cut the engine, leaned forward, and rested on the steering wheel. Even with the lampposts in the parking lot, the front porch light created shadows she’d never noticed. Her muscles tightened, and her heart raced in fear as she scanned the area. Then she squared her shoulders, rose up, and stepped out. Was James here yet? “Oh hi. There you are.” She hurried to his side, and they strolled to the entrance. From now on she’d make sure she left her condo spotlight on.

  She unlocked the door, flipped on the light, and headed straight for the kitchen, followed by James. A soft scrape broke the silence as she dragged the espresso machine from the corner of the counter. In a few minutes a whirr and hazelnut aroma filled the room.

  She handed James a cup, and they walked into the living room, where they plopped down on the rose and blue-colored sofa. They set their drinks on the glass coffee table, and James scooted close to her. She collapsed on his shoulder.

  That was the last thing she needed to do, but she was desperate for the comfort he offered. Would it lead him to think she had more of an interest in him than she ever could allow with the hurt her father had caused still haunting her? Maybe all love wasn’t like her father’s. He must have been a different person when her mother married him, or she never would’ve done it. What changed him? Whatever it was, did it affect other men? If so, which ones? Quivers pricked her skin. James slid his arm around her shoulder, snuggled into her, and hugged her tight. She melted into him.

  * * *

  James wanted to hold Ann to make her more secure, but that sixth sense his mother said he inherited from her told him not to. Why? Ann was friendly toward him and even invited him inside. She must trust him. Did it take her a while to warm up to people? She’d been through a lot tonight. She was one of the bravest women he’d ever met.

  He inched over and created a small space between them. “So, you think you knew your attacker?” He tilted his head. “But you told the police you di
dn’t believe you had any enemies.”

  Ann nodded. “It’s possible Freddie Smithers, a guy I work with, might have done this because he resents me, but I can’t be sure. If I blame him and he didn’t do it, my boss will be real angry at me.”

  James’s logic told him surely no one would take such drastic measures over a job, but then people surprised him every day. “I see. Why does he dislike you?”

  “I’ve been working for Harold, that’s my boss, for five years, so I’m the manager. Freddie wants my position.”

  “Do you think he’d go this far to get it?”

  Ann leaned into the corner of the sofa and pulled up her knees as though she’d settled in for a while. “I’m not sure. Harold’s remodeling the store to turn it into Beach Lady/Beach Guy. He hired Freddie to run the men’s side. Freddie prances around as though he thinks he’s the manager already.” She bit her lip. “Actually, he waddles, but he sticks up his nose around me. Since he arrived, we’ve received several shipments of men’s clothing.” Ann leaned forward. “So far he hasn’t unpacked, labeled, or put out a single item.” Aggravation lined her tone.

  Only someone with spunk could have taken charge after the massacre at the church the way Ann did. “I’m surprised you haven’t put him in his place.”

  “He acts as though he and Harold are best friends. Harold rarely comes in the store during the day, but when he has, Freddie’s slapped him on the back....” Ann tilted her head. “In a friendly way. He’s asked, ‘How’s it going’ like he and Harold are close.” Ann’s eyes grew wide. “And here’s the amazing thing. Harold can’t get enough of Freddie. Harold gives me raises and bonuses, but there’s nothing warm in his voice when he speaks to me. He’s like a different person around Freddie. I’m afraid if I say something to make him think I don’t like Freddie or don’t want to work with him, it will turn Harold against me.”

  James pressed his lips together. Ann’s assessment sounded far-fetched, but what if it wasn’t? James was a good judge of character. If he met Freddie, he’d at least sense the type of person Freddie was. “It does sound as though you have a work situation. Do you really think Freddie’s capable of harming someone?”

  Wrinkles creased Ann’s forehead as though she was in deep thought and not happy with the ideas popping in her head. “I don’t know. As a Christian, rather than resenting him and believing the worst, I should get to know him. I don’t know why I haven’t.”

  Warmth toward Ann flowed through James’s veins. He pushed a lock of stray hair from her face. “Maybe it wasn’t necessary until now. It’s been a long evening. I’ll leave and let you rest.” He pulled a business card out of his wallet and pointed to a phone number. “Call my cell if you need me.”

  Ann’s eyes widened as though it surprised her that he’d given her the information, but she took it. “Thank you. You’ve been very kind.”

  Very kind, huh? There must be some way to get through to this beautiful girl with long dark hair and piercing hazel eyes that dance when she talks about reestablishing the church. James stood, and Ann accompanied him to the door. He leaned over, slid his arm over her shoulder, pressed her to his chest, and squeezed her tight. Then he let go, scooted to his car and left.

  He’d never admired a woman the way he did Ann. When she spoke tonight, her passion and determination set the group on fire. There was no doubt in his mind that many would attend the next meeting and create a plan for reopening the church soon. She was graceful, classy, intelligent, and so sad about something.

  Of course, being attacked would make most anyone unhappy, but he sensed there was more to it. What was it? A desire to make things right for Ann tugged at his heartstrings, and he yearned to fix whatever bothered her. Someone who loved her faith and others as much as she did deserved a chance at happiness. Did she really know who ambushed her outside the bank?

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ann’s heels clicked the pavement as she hurried to the door of Beach Lady. The building’s glass front reflected the sun’s rays, but not enough to blur the spiffy outfit she’d placed in the window yesterday. The yellow capri pants, white and yellow t-shirt, and floppy beach hat were a hit.

  She gazed at the Beach Guy addition. Freddie had added nothing. Granted, the indoor trim around the window and baseboards on his side weren’t painted. She’d give him that, but she had asked him to dress one mannequin and center it in the display area. She gritted her teeth as she stepped to the door.

  Water splashed on her foot and ankle then something slapped her calf. She screamed and peered down. Why was a fish in a pan of water outside the door? Who would do such a stupid thing? Freddie. Anything he could do to aggravate her enough to make her quit. He had a lot to learn about her. Heat crawled up her neck to the top of her head.

  The bell jingled several times as she rushed through the doorway and slammed the door. She would not yell at him. She had no proof he did it. She intended to remain professional and competent until Harold recognized Freddie as he was.

  Freddie suddenly appeared at the cut-out between Beach Lady and Beach Guy with a slight smile on his thin lips. “Good morning, Ann.”

  “Do you have any idea how a fish ended up in a pan beside the door to Beach Lady?” Ann held out her soaking wet, smelly leg.

  Freddie’s mouth gaped. “No. I didn’t notice it when I came in.”

  “How strange.”

  “Maybe some kid left it there, or a fisherman caught it, and his wife doesn’t like fish. He wouldn’t want to take it home. Maybe he just set it down.”

  “Whatever, I’m going to the restroom and freshen up as best I can. Would you go outside and remove it please?”

  “Here fishy, fishy, fishy.”

  Freddie’s mind was a mystery.

  Ann marched into the ladies’ room, pulled several paper towels from the wall dispenser, soaked them in lavender-scented anti-bacterial soap, and scrubbed her leg, foot, and shoe until they no longer reeked of fish. She rose up in front of the mirror and brushed her hair back from her face. What a mess. She ran her fingers through her long locks then smoothed her black skirt and strolled into the Beach Lady side of the store.

  Trying to calm her nerves and curb her anger toward Freddy, she straightened the beach towels and bathing suits on a table beside the thatched blue chaise lounge, meandered to the door, and peeked out. The fish and the pan were gone. Freddie must’ve done as she asked then slunk back to his side of the shop.

  The carpenters entered Beach Guy, and she went over to see what Freddie was up to. He sat on a step stool and stared at the workers pounding nails into the sheetrock on the back wall.

  “Freddie.”

  “Huh?”

  “We need to move the t-shirts, flip-flops, and shorts to the front, so customers can shop without having to browse in the middle of the remodeling.”

  “They’re going to re-do the shelves. I can only fill the racks that hold the folded jeans and bathing suits.”

  Ann clenched her fist. “We could set the merchandise on the tables and organize it in neat stacks.”

  “I reckon, but do you think customers will stay long enough to look with all that hammering? Listen to it.”

  She could hardly help but hear it. Why in the world had Harold hired Freddie? Not for her to know, but no matter how much his lackadaisical attitude bothered her, she would get along with him for as long as he stayed. She wasn’t going anywhere.

  She had no intentions of ever slaving away at Jones’s Fish Market like her mother had. Mom had come home with sweat rolling down the sides of her cheeks and smelling like fish too many times only to start cooking dinner, finish, and fall in bed, exhausted.

  Ann made direct eye contact with Freddie. “It’s possible no one will come to Beach Guy, but Mr. Craven wants the store presentable. He’s the boss. We’ll do what he says.” She said “we” on purpose. The last thing she needed was Freddie telling Harold she was bossy.

  The bell on the door to Beach Lady jingled. Ann rushe
d to her station. Harold had placed an ad on television for a sale beginning this week, probably to encourage people to shop in spite of the remodeling.

  Four women meandered around the middle of the store and picked up t-shirts and shorts from the tables. A young lady with long blond curls grabbed a yellow sundress and headed to the dressing room. A woman carrying a purse with a big sunflower chose a red shirt.

  Each bang from the repetitive pounding next door seemed louder than the one before. Ann swiped her forehead as one of the clients strolled to the register with two pairs of shorts, three ladies following her. The blonde came out wearing the dress and twirled in front of the mirror. “Does this look all right?”

  Ann glanced her way as she rang up the purchase for the last woman in line. “It’s precious on you.”

  The blonde smiled. “Okay, I’ll take it.” She hurried in and out of the dressing room, arriving at the cash register at the same time as the lady with the red shirt.

  Ann made the transactions. “Thank you for shopping at Beach Lady.”

  The sudden influx of so many folks to take care of at one time grated like a wire dish scrubber on Ann’s already ragged nerves from putting up with Freddie and the carpenters. Finally, they all left. She plopped down in the chaise lounge and rubbed her temples.

  “Yo, what’s happening?”

  Ann jumped.

  Freddie waddled on the sides of the soles on his black slip-ons.

  “I’m taking a break. What are you doing?”

  “Man, I can’t believe it. Even amid the carpenters’ racket I sold four pairs of jeans this morning.”