Free Acts of Desperation by Emerson Shaw

were in Vietnam together—old war buddies. Bernie trusts him with his life. He’s always said if you ever need someone to get your back, you’ll never meet a more loyal person than Fritz.”
    “ He seems like a really nice guy. Sounds like it’s been awhile since you’ve been back here,” I said.
    “Yes, t oo long,” he said. Then the car unexpectedly swerved, and Fritz slammed on the brakes. Jax shot his arm out against my chest and caught me from flying forward. The outside offender was rewarded by a string of muffled obscenities from Fritz.
    “Pardon my French,” Fritz said, lowering the glass. “You ok back there?”
    “We’re fine—all limbs are intact,” Jax said, and he lowered his hand to my bare thigh.
    “Sorry, about that.” Fritz said. “The cab drivers in this city get worse and worse every year. They will cut you off without any warning. It’s a wonder how some of them even get their licenses. It should only be a few more minutes then you ’ll be done risking your lives.” He chuckled at himself then raised the glass back up.
    I looked down at Jax’s hand on my thigh then up to meet his eyes. There may have been a hint of a smile in them initially, but as I held his stare, I saw something wild lying within. Then my vision drifted downward to his plump bottom lip. When he leaned in, I froze in place, unable to move and my breath caught in my throat.

Chapter Nine
     
    “We’re here,” Fritz’s said. His muffled voice cut through the glass.
    The corners of Jax’s mouth rose up, hinting at a grin. Then, he turned and leaned forward to tap on the glass. “Don’t you dare get out of this car and open my door. You have a number where I can reach you when we’re finished?” he asked.
    Fritz lowered the glass. “Bernie got me one of these damn phones a few years ago,” he said, shaking a simple flip phone into the air. “I have a hard time seeing the screen with my old eyes, but yes, that sounds good.” He rattled off the number while Jax programmed it into his phone.
    Jax got out of the car and extended his hand. “Shall we?” he asked.
    I grabbed ahold of his hand and he lifted me from the car. We ran from the cold, past the horse-drawn carriages waiting at the curb and through the revolving doors, inside.
    We took an escalator up to the second floor to the restaurant . The hostess walked us past the kitchen where cooks busily prepared brick oven pizzas and other delicacies. I inhaled the savory smells they were creating as we were lead into the carpeted dining room. We sat in front of a large window that looked out onto the center of the city.
    Big clunky city buses rocked unsteadily in the heavy winds as they navigated the streets. The Clydesdale attached to the prettiest Cinderella carriage at the curb below snorted out big plumes of steam and stomped his hoof, protesting the cold and begging to move. I watched his gloved handler rub his head and whisper in his ear, cajoling him, and the horse bobbed his head in understanding. It was miserable out there, yet here I sat, nestled comfortably warm across from Jax. I drank him in as he removed his coat and slung it on the back of an unused chair at a neighboring table. The way he carried himself oozed confidence
    My attention was pulled away from him when our waitress dropped off two glasses of ice water and told us about the specials. After she stepped away, I folded my menu closed and laid it on the table. I already knew what I wanted walking in the door; it was one of my favorite restaurants.
    “So, why’d you leave New York and come to Cincinnati?” I asked.
    He closed his menu and laid it on the table then looked at me. “I think it bothered by grandparents that I was alone in the city with no family close by. My parents passed away years ago.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t even imagine how hard it would be to lose your parents.”
    “Thanks, but i t’s ok, it’s been awhile. I came along later in life