The Renegade
Chapter 2

Sawyer Knox had been in as many war zones as he had time zones. In his six years as an active-duty Marine, he’d been chased, shot at, and—in the act that had ultimately benched him for good—had an IED detonate 300 yards from the spot where he’d been standing. But none of that had quite prepared him for the gut-dipping terror of his friend Isabella rushing out of the ladies’ room in the back of his bar and grill and handing him her baby.

“Oh, thank God!” she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “There’s been a huge emergency downtown and my entire unit, plus probably half the cops in the district, just got called in.”

Adrenaline perked in Sawyer’s veins, his senses defaulting to full alert. “What’s going on?”

Isabella dropped her voice even though the alcove where they were standing was empty of anyone other than the two of them. Well, three, if you counted the squirming baby. “Between us? There’s been a credible bomb threat down by the Plaza. I have to go, like, now. Kellan’s on his way to come pick the baby up, but can you watch Elijah until he gets here? Please?”

“Uh,” Sawyer grunted, his heart jackhammering behind his black Crooked Angel T-shirt. “I’m not sure I’m the, ah, best person for that?”

“Don’t be silly,” Isabella said. “I know you. I trust you. All you have to do is put him in his stroller for ten, maybe fifteen minutes until Kellan gets here. I just changed him, and he’s already had dinner. Chances are, he’ll drift off to sleep any second now, anyway. Won’t you, my little sweet pea?” she asked the baby with a smile.

Elijah wiggled in Sawyer’s grasp, and oh, hell, why couldn’t she have asked him to do something easy, like bullseye a target with an M14 from a hundred yards away. In a sandstorm.

“Oh. Well…” Sawyer hedged. She couldn’t exactly take her baby anywhere near harm’s way. Plus, how hard could it really be to keep the little guy safe for ten minutes? “Yeah, sure. You got it.”

“Ah, thank you! You’re the best.” She took the briefest of seconds to grab Sawyer’s cell phone number, then text him both hers and her husband, Kellan’s, before she kissed the baby one last time. “I owe you one.”

“Be safe,” Sawyer said as she hustled out of the alcove.

Two-point-two seconds later, Elijah burst into tears.

“Oh, no. No, no.” Sawyer’s gut bottomed out somewhere in the vicinity of his kneecaps as the baby’s tears morphed into a wail. He shifted his hold on the little guy—which was already pretty awkward, since Sawyer had never held a baby in his entire twenty-six years—and wait, how was the baby crying even harder now?

“Okay, okay. It’s going to be okay,” Sawyer said, more to himself than Elijah. But Kellan was going to murder him if he came in to replace his son screaming like he was being stuck with pins. Isabella had said the baby would fall asleep. Should he put him in the stroller? Or, no, maybe he should walk around with him—wasn’t that what people did on TV to get babies to stop crying?

Sawyer cradled Elijah in the crook of his arm, which only made the baby squirm harder. He pivoted on one work boot, trying to pace through the tiny alcove to soothe Elijah—

And nearly ran smack into the very beautiful brunette whose merlot was probably sitting on the bar, waiting for him to deliver it.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” Sawyer said, not wanting her to think he’d somehow hurt Elijah.

“Oh, good,” Jo said. “Because no offense, but you’d make a terrible kidnapper.”

Sawyer’s pulse rattled. “What? Oh. God, no. I’m not—I wouldn’t—”

“Relax, Sawyer. I know you’re not kidnapping Isabella’s baby,” Jo said. He must have looked confused, because she added, “I was at the table when the whole unit got called away. I assume you’re on babysitting duty?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

One corner of her mouth went up. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

“What gave it away?” he asked, and she laughed, not unkindly.

“The look of sheer, abject terror on your face was kind of a dead giveaway.”

Elijah continued to fuss, and Sawyer continued to make lame attempts to comfort him, to no avail. “Do you want some help?” Jo asked, and it took all Sawyer had not to let his relief commandeer his face.

“I didn’t want to assume that you have more experience with babies than I do just because you’re a woman, but if you do, then yes. Please. Clearly, I’m out of my depth here.”

A look crossed her face, some combination of confusion and something else that Sawyer couldn’t quite peg. But then it was gone, replaced by a no-nonsense nod. “Lucky for you, I can help.”

Rather than take the baby from him, though, she gestured with her hands, guiding him through her directions.

“He looks about five months old, so I bet he’s got a little stranger anxiety. Try holding him up on your shoulder so he can look around. The lights might distract him.” She gestured to the white lights strung from the bar’s rafters overhead. “Just keep one hand under his bottom and the other on his upper back to make sure he doesn’t wiggle free.”

“Like this?” Sawyer asked, certain he was doing it laughably wrong.

But Jo just nodded, reaching out to readjust his grip on the baby a little. “I’ll see if I can replace something in his stroller to snag his attention.”

She rummaged for less than ten seconds before coming up victorious, holding something small and blue between her fingers. Slipping around Sawyer, she popped it into Elijah’s mouth, and whoa…

He stopped crying.

“You are magic,” Sawyer said as Elijah’s hitching breaths began to even out beneath his palm.

“I’m just somebody’s mom,” Jo countered, but nope. No way.

“Magic,” he insisted. “I never would’ve thought to hold him differently or to look for…one of these thingies.”

She laughed. “Yeah, pacifiers usually do the trick. He just needed a little comfort, that’s all. Didn’t you, sweet boy?”

Jo reached out to smooth a hand over Elijah’s head, and the baby let out a little sigh in response.

“He likes you,” Sawyer said, and again, Jo dodged the compliment.

“I think he might be getting sleepy. You could try to put him in the stroller and see if he starts to drop off.”

Worry pinged between Sawyer’s ribs. “What if he cries?”

“Then you can just pick him back up again,” she said with a shrug. “It won’t hurt him.”

Testing her theory, Sawyer moved over to the stroller, carefully angling Elijah into the seat. Jo reached down to strap him in, then recline the seat back—which Sawyer had no idea you could even do—and miraculously, Elijah settled in quietly. After a minute, his eyes grew glassy and heavy, then after one more, they began to drift shut.

“Wow,” Sawyer half-whispered in awe. “Your merlot is completely on me.”

“Oh.” Her brown eyes went wide, and Sawyer noticed that in this light, they were the color of warm caramel, glinted with little flecks of gold. “Actually, now that everyone was called away, I was going to just head out.”

Why her words sent a pang of disappointment through Sawyer’s gut, he wasn’t quite sure, but they did. “You sure? I don’t mean to brag or anything, but we do make a killer Cuban sandwich. Might even be the best you’ll ever eat.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself,” Jo said, and Sawyer lifted one shoulder partway before letting it drop.

“Just stating the facts. If you want to prove me wrong, guess you’ll have to stick around for dinner.”

For a second, Sawyer was certain she’d say no, and maybe that was just as well. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was single, especially since she’d mentioned being a mom. He didn’t much see the point in bullshitting himself, and the truth was, she was f*****g gorgeous. Sure, he wanted to thank her for her help, but he also wanted her to stay for less gallant reasons.

Jo tilted her head, a smile blooming over her pretty, pink mouth, and Jesus, less gallant was a colossal understatement. “You’d better hope you can live up to the hype. I’m Italian, through and through. We take our food very seriously.”

“You’re a woman after my own heart,” he said, gesturing toward the dining room. “Please. After you.”

Pushing the stroller down the wood-paneled corridor, Sawyer made his way to the bar with Jo. He found her a seat at the end of the wood, right next to an empty two-person bar table that he slid out of the way to make room for the stroller. Before he could get to the business end of the bar, though, Kellan appeared a handful of feet away from Jo.

“Hey,” Sawyer said, lifting his chin in greeting. “The little guy just fell asleep.”

He pointed to the stroller, and Kellan gave up a grateful smile. “Thanks, man. I really appreciate you looking out for him until I could get here. I know it was kind of a big ask.”

“I’d say it was no big deal, but to be honest, Jo here did all the hard stuff.”

“Jo Rossi,” she said, waving from her spot at the bar. “And it was teamwork.”

Kellan’s dark brows lifted. “Rossi, as in, related to Frankie?”

Jo’s hands went up as she smiled. “Guilty as charged. She’s my sister. I’m here from Savannah for a few weeks.”

“Ah. Well, work emergencies aside, I hope you enjoy your visit.”

A flicker of unease moved through Jo’s eyes, gone so fast it could’ve been imagined. “Thanks. I hope so, too.”

Sawyer waited until Kellan had wheeled a blissfully sleeping Elijah out of the restaurant before placing a glass of the best merlot they had on the bar in front of her. “Here you go, ma’am.”

Jo winced. At his lifted brows, she said, “Sorry. ‘Ma’am’ makes me feel about a hundred years old.”

Great, now he’d insulted her. “I can promise, that wasn’t my intent at all. It’s a habit I’m sure I’ll take to the grave.”

“Were you raised by nuns?” she asked, and he had to laugh.

“The Marines, actually.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh. Are you still active duty, then?”

Sawyer dodged the pinch in his chest. “Retired.”

“Wow, really? You’re so young.” Again, Jo winced, clamping her teeth over her bottom l*p in a way that made Sawyer want to bite it, too. “And I’m going to shut up now, since clearly, my brain-to-mouth filter is malfunctioning.”

Her self-deprecating honesty loosened something inside his chest, allowing him to breathe. “No, it’s okay. You’re not wrong. It’s unusual for someone my age to retire. I was injured in the line of duty.”

“God, I’m really sorry,” she said.

But her words held no syrupy pity, only truth, and hell if that didn’t make him replace her even more attractive. “I am, too. But in the end, it led me here, so I guess I can’t really complain.”

“Did you always want to manage a restaurant, then?”

Curiosity sparked in her stare, but there was something else there, too, and it made him open his mouth. “Yeah. My old man owns a bar not too far from here, in Charlotte. He’s run the place for over thirty years. He loves it.” Sawyer couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “So, I guess I come by it honestly.”

“Well, if it helps, you’re a natural.” Jo lifted her glass of merlot for a sip. “Not a lot of people could convince me to stick around for dinner by myself when my pajamas and Netflix were calling.”

Sawyer knew that flirting with her was probably a dumpster fire of an idea. So, naturally, he didn’t f*****g hesitate. “Ah, but you’re not having dinner by yourself. You’re having dinner with me, remember? And I promise, it’ll be way better than pajamas and Netflix.”

He placed a menu on the glossy surface of the bar, giving her some space to look it over while he took care of a few drink orders and checked in with both their hostess, Evie, and the waitstaff. The height of the dinner rush had passed, which allowed him to hand off the rest of the bar patrons to one of the servers whose section had lightened up—Sawyer knew the guy needed the tips more than he did—and return his attention to Jo.

“Anything look good?” he asked, his b***d heating up at the blush pinking her cheeks in the soft bar light.

“You piqued my interest with your bragging. I’ve got to see if this Cuban sandwich lives up to the hype,” she said, sliding her menu over the bar.

Sawyer wrote up a bar ticket and handed it off to a passing server. “It’s not bragging if it’s true.”

“Well, I hope it is, because I’m starving.” Jo took a sip of her wine. As if their earlier conversation hadn’t skipped a beat, she asked, “So, are you from Charlotte?”

“Born and raised. I went all over while I was in the Marines, but after my injury, I came home.” He didn’t add that it was partly because Remington Memorial had an excellent Traumatic Brain Injury rehabilitation program, and at the time, his migraines had been so brutal, his neurologist had bumped him to the top of the mile-long waiting list. Not to mention the crushing PTSD he’d been suffering from at the time.

Speaking of silver linings.“I met another veteran at a local thing—a firefighter at Station Seventeen—and mentioned I was looking for work. His wife is the general manager here, and she just had a baby, so I moved out here last year.”

“Sounds like kismet,” Jo said.

Sawyer nodded. Gamble and Kennedy had saved his a*s in more ways than one, Gamble especially. He was all too happy to give them the peace of mind of knowing her restaurant was in capable hands while they spent time with their son, Theo. Plus, Jo wasn’t wrong. Sawyer really did love managing the place.

“What about you?” he asked, pulling a box of cocktail napkins from a nearby storage drawer and topping off the dwindling stack to his left. “Tell me about this not-exactly-soon-to-be-famous thing you’ve got going on.”

Jo took a sip of her wine that bordered on a gulp. “That’s okay. You really don’t have to make small talk with me just because I’m here all alone.”

“I’m making small talk with you because I want to know more about you,” he said, prompting her tart little smile—and the bolt of heat it sent through Sawyer’s b***d—to make a comeback.

“Ah, so flirting with your bar patrons is part of the job description, then.”

“Being polite is part of the job description,” he amended. “I only flirt when I mean it.”

“Which one are you doing right now?” Jo asked softly, and yeah, there was no f*****g way he was going to leave that one untouched.

Sawyer braced both hands on the bar in front of her, leaning in just enough to cut the space between them but not so much that she couldn’t easily pull back if she wanted to. “I suppose that depends.”

Jo didn’t pull back. “On?”

“Which one you had in mind.”

“Oh.” It was more of a whisper than a word, yet it made his heart drum faster all the same. Especially when she said, “Flirting is good.”

Sawyer smiled. Definitely single, then. “I couldn’t agree more. So, where were we?”

“Not exactly famous,” Jo said. “Which, when you’re an actress, isn’t really an endorsement.”

A server appeared with Jo’s sandwich, perfectly plated beside a pile of golden-brown fries, and Sawyer nodded his thanks as he took the plate to put it in front of her. Her expression loosened in pleasure, likely at the scent of cumin-spiced pork and fresh-baked roll that even he could smell from the other side of the bar, and man, he loved feeding people.

“This looks incredible,” Jo murmured, unfurling her napkin and popping a fry into her mouth, smiling as she chewed.

“It’s one of my favorite things on the menu,” he agreed by way of an ‘I told you so’. He gave her a few minutes to eat in peace, although her happy little m***s made him damned glad for the half-apron slung over his brewing hard-on.

Finally, in between bites, she said, “I’m actually in Remington to audition for a part in a pretty big new TV show. But it’s really a longshot. I doubt I’ll even get a callback.”

“How come?” Sawyer had no clue how these things worked, but he was pretty sure they didn’t let just anyone audition for things like TV shows. Plus, she was f*****g gorgeous, with that warm brown stare and those legs that went on for days, perfectly showcased by her dark jeans and tall boots. They’d be crazy not to put her on screen.

Jo shrugged, her dark hair brushing her shoulders. “Well, I’ve spent most of the past five years single-parenting my daughter, so I don’t have any substantial experience on TV shows, especially in a regular role. But the real reason is that the part is pretty far outside my comfort zone.”

“So, it’s kind of like me trying to take care of Kellan and Isabella’s baby?” Sawyer asked.

Her smile was a non-verbal nice try. “If you multiplied it by a thousand and put a cherry on top, you might be close. Honestly, it’s probably a horrible idea to do something this far from my norm.”

Sawyer could’ve let her off the hook. Hell, he probably should’ve. But he’d seen that fiery streak hiding beneath all her caution, and yeah, he’d learned the hard way how short life really was.

“Oh, come on. It’s good to get outside your comfort zone every once in a while.”

Jo scooped up a French fry, pointing it at him before taking a bite. “I like my comfort zone. It never lets me down. It’s always exactly what I expect it to be. No shake-ups. No surprises.”

“Except you want a job that isn’t in your comfort zone,” Sawyer pointed out, and there—there was that spark she kept so well-covered. “So maybe that zone of yours is just a little too comfortable.”

Jo’s cheeks flushed. “And maybe risks like this role are just a little too uncomfortable.”

An idea bloomed in Sawyer’s head, one that would probably end up in a crash and burn, but taking the gamble felt far too good. “Would it make you feel better if I took a risk, too?” he asked.

A startled laugh flew past her lips. “What, like, right now?”

“Right this minute.” Sawyer nodded.

She looked at him, suddenly wary. “You’re not going to do something crazy that will turn into a viral Internet video, are you?”

“Not quite that drastic.” Reaching for a cocktail napkin with one hand and a pen with the other, he wrote out an address and handed it to her. “Be here tomorrow at six. Dress warm. Oh, and be prepared to get a little adventurous.”

Jo quirked a brow at him before sliding the napkin between her fingers. “I thought you were the one taking the risk.”

He looked at her, letting his smile have its way with him. “I asked you out, didn’t I? Now all you have to do is say yes.”