“So where are you working?” Kat asked conversationally, watching a few tourists mingle past.

“I’m just running errands for a few guys,” Tommy said, sounding both defensive and evasive, two sure giveaways, if there were any.

“Em’s looking for a job.” She hoped. “Errands, huh? Here, along Waterfront?”

He squirmed a little. “Just for Ernie here at Bait & Tackle and Brody at the Wharf Rat and some other guys.”

She nodded, trying to imagine what errands someone like Brody at the Wharf Rat—a bar—would have for a fifteen-year-old boy. Alyssa had stopped a door behind them pretending to admire a huge gargoyle in one of the witch-shop windows. “Maybe you could run errands for me, too.”

He shrugged. “I’m pretty busy already, you know.”

She didn’t know, but she planned to find out. “So what type of errands could I maybe get you to do for me? If you had time? Get me lunch? Or take packages to the post office? What do you do for the other guys?”

Before Tommy could answer, loud angry voices erupted from the bar in question. An instant later, a man came flying out of the bar’s front door as if thrown. He stumbled and fell to the bricks, followed quickly by another.

“Take it outside,” a third man called after them, flinging the cap of one of the men to the ground. The first man stumbled to his feet and dived at the second man still on the bricks. The two began wrestling awkwardly, obviously having had way too much to drink.

What caught and held her attention weren’t the quarreling drunks, but the man who’d just thrown the pair out of the bar. She stared at her mystery date from the night before, wondering why she was so shocked to see that he worked at the Wharf Rat. No wonder she’d been attracted to him! The man was an obvious loser—which unfortunately was her type of late. Maybe someone from the FBI really was looking for him.

He looked up, meeting her gaze, and she quickly swung back around to Tommy, disgusted with herself for being attracted to the wrong type, but also feeling relieved he wasn’t some psychopath just passing through town whom she’d not only had dinner with but had almost kissed.

When she turned, however, Tommy was gone. So was Alyssa. Angry that she’d let Tommy get away so easily, she crossed the street and started toward her office—and tripped over nothing, pitching headlong toward the brick pavement.

“Hello.” Jonah caught her in his arms. Had he tripped her? He couldn’t believe it. Not when he’d promised himself he’d keep his distance from her. But that seemed damned impossible in a town the size of Moriah’s Landing. Even if he’d wanted to.

She looked surprised—either that she’d tripped on seemingly nothing but thin air—or that he’d rushed in to catch her with such quickness. She also looked a little suspicious. Imagine that.

She shook herself free of him, dark blue eyes sparking with anger and a little fear. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” Oh that mouth. He desperately regretted having not kissed her last night.

It was obvious she’d found out about their “date.” He scanned the small crowd that had gathered around the brawling drunks, but he didn’t see anyone he knew in the faces. “Sorry about last night,” he said, turning his attention back to Kat. “Not sorry about the date. Just that I didn’t mention, I wasn’t him. My name’s Jonah.” He held out his hand.

She ignored it. “You took advantage of the situation.”

He smiled. “That I did.”

“You aren’t in the least bit sorry, are you?” she snapped, and started to turn away.

He caught her arm and leaned close to her ear, the scent in her dark hair intoxicating. “The only thing I regret is that I didn’t kiss you when I had the chance.”

“You blew your chance,” she snapped, pulling free of him. “And since you won’t be around long, with the FBI looking for you…”

He caught her by the wrist. “What did you say?”

“A man who said he’s an agent from the FBI is showing your picture around town, asking if anyone knows how he can find you.”

Deke Turner. Damn. “What did he look like?”

“Stocky, with gray eyes and a small crescent-shaped scar—”

He swore and released her. Definitely Deke. Definitely the man he’d recognized in the fog last night. The same man who’d recognized him—just before Jonah ducked inside Kat’s office.

“So you do know him.” Did she sound disappointed?

“Yeah.”

“Then you’ll be leaving town,” she said, looking way too hopeful. So that’s why she’d warned him about Deke.

He could still feel the warmth of her wrist between his fingers even though he was no longer touching her. Just as he could still sense something around her like a bad aura. “You suppose wrong.” He couldn’t leave now, even if he wanted to.

“Too bad,” she said, and walked away.

He stared after her, still shocked by what he’d felt when he’d touched her and angry with himself for feeling anything. He blamed it on being back in this town. But unlike last night when he’d felt only an ominous presence around her, today he’d definitely detected something much stronger, much more dangerous.

Kat Ridgemont was in some kind of trouble. He could feel it. And if there was one thing he knew, it was trouble.

He considered going after her, trying to warn her. Yeah, like Arabella had last night?

“I see danger in your future,” a woman said behind him.

He turned to find the fortune-teller leaning against the wall, watching him from her dark hooded eyes.

“And I see dead people,” he answered, stealing a line from a movie.

“You will see a lot more if you aren’t careful.” With that, she pushed off the wall and disappeared back into her booth, her jewelry jangling after her.

He shook his head as he went back inside the bar. As if he didn’t have enough problems, now he had a damn fortune-teller telling him things he already knew.

His biggest concern right now, though, was Deke. No, he thought, it was not getting involved in whatever trouble Kat Ridgemont was in. He didn’t need more trouble. He had enough of his own. But he couldn’t forget the feeling he had when he was around her any more than he could forget her. Both a problem.

“I think you’ve finally found your calling,” the owner of the Wharf Rat jeered as Jonah stepped behind the bar again. Brody Ries straddled a stool at the far end, a cigar hanging from his thick lips, his small brown eyes narrowed against the smoke spiraling up. “You seem to have a real talent for mean-drunk tossing.”

“You might be right, cuz,” Jonah said, hiding his irritation, which alone was a full-time job.

“Maybe getting kicked out of the FBI was the best thing that could have happened to you,” Brody said, and laughed, never one to pass up the opportunity to kick a man when he was down. “Working for me, you get to learn about real life. Not like that fancy-ass school you went to, I can sure as hell tell you that.”

Brody had always resented the fact that Jonah had gotten a scholarship his freshman year in high school to go to Wentworth Academy in Boston. It was there that he’d put his past behind him. Moriah’s Landing. His family. And all that both meant to him. He’d never looked back, going on to college and then getting into the FBI. If he’d had his way, he’d have never come back here.

But plans change.

“You know, it’s odd,” Brody was saying, “one of your old buddies was in here just last night, not two hours before you showed up. An ex-FBI agent by the name of Deke Turner. Ring any bells?”

Just that loud clanging one that reminded him how dead he was if he ran into Deke again. “Maybe, but then the FBI is kind of a large place, you know, Brody.”

“Oh yeah?” Brody looked disappointed. And skeptical. “Too bad. You two have a lot in common. It seems he got booted out of the FBI, too. Only, I would have sworn he said he knew you. What’s wild is that he said he just got out of the slammer and heard about your trouble with the feds and decided to come looking for you. Seems he just missed you. Maybe he’ll come back in today.”