Gift of Gold

the awkward position of straddling the window frame when Jonas moved.
    “Next time try knocking,” Jonas advised as he wrapped an arm around the man’s throat and yanked him through the window. Jonas could feel the hair of his beard brushing his arm. This man was large. When he hit the floor there was a solid thump.
    “Shit! What the hell…?”
    Whatever his next comment would have been, it was cut off by a muffled groan as Jonas pinned his late-night visitor to the cold wooden floor. The other man floundered briefly and furiously, his late-night visitor to the cold wooden floor. The other man floundered briefly and furiously, showing a surprising amount of skilled strength until Jonas put the tip of the knife to his unguarded throat. Instantly his victim went still.
    “That’s it,” Jonas said approvingly. “I think we understand each other. Don’t move.”
    “Don’t worry.” The voice was a deep rumble. “I’m not going anywhere as long as you’re the one with the knife.” Jonas patted him down. The man was wearing a wool jacket, a shirt, and denim pants. There was no knife or gun strapped to his leg or hanging from his belt.
    “Stay where you are.” Jonas got to his feet and hit the light switch. An instant later the harsh glow of the bare overhead bulb filled the small room. Jonas found himself looking at a bear of a man.
    His full beard and mustache had once been red but were now heavily streaked with gray. Ditto for the mass of short, shaggy curls that framed a small balding patch on top of his head. Aquamarine eyes glittered at Jonas from beneath heavy brows. He had big shoulders and was broad in the chest and heavy in the thigh. He was probably somewhere in his early sixties, although the short struggle he’d put up suggested the vigor of a younger man.
    “Don’t tell me, let me guess,” the man stated as he rubbed the shoulder he had landed on. “My mercenary daughter decided to make a few bucks on the side by renting out my cabin, right? Sometimes that gal shows absolutely no respect for her poor, aging father. No respect at all.”
    Jonas leaned back against the wall in a casual slouch and studied those familiar aquamarine eyes. “Emerson Ames, I presume?”
    “The one and only.” Emerson sat up slowly. His sharp gaze moved assessingly over Jonas. “You play with knives frequently?”
    “Not if I can avoid it. A man can get hurt playing with knives.” Jonas decided there could be absolutely no doubt about the identity of this man. He walked over to the duffel bag and dropped the knife into its sheath. “Sorry about the unfriendly welcome.”
    Emerson watched him move. “My fault entirely,” he growled generously. “I assumed the place was empty. It was too late to rouse Verity so I thought I’d just find my own way into the cottage for the night. I don’t suppose you’re Verity’s lover, are you?”
    Still leaning over the duffel bag, Jonas raised an eyebrow at the undisguised tone of hope. He straightened as Ames got to his feet. “Nope. I’m her dishwasher.”
    Ames nodded sadly. “Figures. Give her a good, strong, solid son of a bitch like yourself who knows how to take care of himself, and what does she do with him? Hires him as a dishwasher. Lord, where did I go wrong with that girl? It’s enough to make a man question the wisdom of giving female children a decent education.” He glanced around the room. “ I suppose by now you’ve probably drunk what was left of that bottle of vodka I left in the kitchen cupboard?”
    Jonas grinned briefly. “Not quite.”
    “Good. I could use a little something to steady my nerves after that set-to on the floor. Mind if I help myself?”
    “It’s your bottle,” Jonas said with a shrug.
    Emerson Ames sighed hugely. “That’s a fact. I’ll pour you a shot, too. Something tells me we have a few things to talk about.”
    “Yeah,” Jonas agreed. “Like who gets the floor for the rest of the night.”
     
    Verity saw the lights come on in Jonas’s cabin. She was standing at the window in her flannel nightgown, the red, curling mass of her hair hanging down around her shoulders, when she saw the unexpected glow appear among the trees that separated her cottage from his.
    Jonas was awake, too.
    The knowledge gave her an odd sense of kinship, which made no sense at all. She wondered if he was regretting the harsh things he had said to her as much as she was regretting the things she had said to him.
    He was right, she