fast.”
“But you’re ready for it,” he pointed out. “And those moving trucks will be rolling.”
Her hands lowered and she smiled again. “There is that. But I could find a good storage unit.”
Zach shook his head. “Not nearly as efficient or tidy.”
“That’s right.”
She stood slowly. “I’m sorry our conversation was cut short.”
“Me, too. Do you have a card?” he asked.
Her hand went to her purse, then dropped away. “No. I only have business cards. I’ll have to . . . think of something.”
Woof!
barked the dog Zach still couldn’t see.
He shook his head as he reached for his cane, positioned it right, and stood. His leg had stiffened and hurt. He wasn’t about to show that. “Another thing we have in common.”
“Yes?”
“No jobs and money we’re not sure about and needing new digs.” He reached into his jacket pocket and took out one of his old cards, ignored the insignia and writing on the front, flipped it over and wrote his cell number on the back, and held it out.
She took it and put it carefully in an inner pocket of her purse, zipped that.
“We’ll meet again, Clare Cermak.”
“I’m sure we will.” She, too, took a card from her purse, pale gray with black lettering, crossed out the engraved wording below her name, and wrote down two numbers. “That’s my cell and my landline.”
Of course she’d have backup communication in a landline. He stuck her card in his inner pocket, then took her hand and squeezed. “Good meeting you.”
“Yes.” She returned the pressure and slipped a ready ten from her purse. He intercepted her hand.
“I’ll get it.”
“Thank you, Jackson Zachary Slade.”
The first time in a long time—maybe ever—that he’d liked hearing his full name. “Call me Zach.”
She dipped her head. “Zach. Later.”
“Later.” He took his time pulling out a twenty and tossing it on the table, watching her nicely rounded hips sway in her slim skirt as she strode outside and to the busy sidewalk. He blinked, since there seemed to be a smudge to his sight now and again when he took in the full sight of her.
Crows cawed.
No! Zach tensed. Saw five birds rise from the iron railing separating the restaurant tables from the walkway. How had he missed them? But his breath released slowly. Five for silver. That could mean a lot of things, but not sorrow or death or secrets.
His phone sounded again, the anonymous buzz of an unknown caller. The readout showed
Rickman Security and Investigations
.
“Slade,” he said.
“I’ve got a job for you. Interested?”
Silver—money, payment. “Yeah.” He guessed so.
“If you’re still in Denver, come on back to my offices and I’ll brief you and introduce you to our client.”
Zach’s heart gave a bump of anticipation. He turned and walked from the restaurant, looked up at the skyscraper where Tony Rickman had his offices. “I’ll be right there.”
“See you soon.” Rickman clicked off.
A deep breath brought city heat and smells, different than the Montana county he’d served for three years. He swallowed away the sadness at Lauren and Larry, found himself murmuring a little prayer his grandmother had taught him for their souls.
Change wasn’t always good, but always happened.
SEVEN
T HE REAL ESTATE agent opened the door of the cab and Clare slid out, nearly shivering with cold. Enzo had accompanied her and the driver had his air-conditioning running hard. She paid the fare and added an eighteen percent tip, and the cab zoomed off.
Arlene, young and Hispanic with a huge smile and incredible energy, chattered about the landscaping of the first house, the curb appeal. At first glance Clare liked the looks of the house, but she admitted to herself that she wanted more charm in a home. Especially since she now lived in a small rectangular structure. She and Enzo followed Arlene through the house. Despite everything, Clare wasn’t about to make a quick decision. She intended
“But you’re ready for it,” he pointed out. “And those moving trucks will be rolling.”
Her hands lowered and she smiled again. “There is that. But I could find a good storage unit.”
Zach shook his head. “Not nearly as efficient or tidy.”
“That’s right.”
She stood slowly. “I’m sorry our conversation was cut short.”
“Me, too. Do you have a card?” he asked.
Her hand went to her purse, then dropped away. “No. I only have business cards. I’ll have to . . . think of something.”
Woof!
barked the dog Zach still couldn’t see.
He shook his head as he reached for his cane, positioned it right, and stood. His leg had stiffened and hurt. He wasn’t about to show that. “Another thing we have in common.”
“Yes?”
“No jobs and money we’re not sure about and needing new digs.” He reached into his jacket pocket and took out one of his old cards, ignored the insignia and writing on the front, flipped it over and wrote his cell number on the back, and held it out.
She took it and put it carefully in an inner pocket of her purse, zipped that.
“We’ll meet again, Clare Cermak.”
“I’m sure we will.” She, too, took a card from her purse, pale gray with black lettering, crossed out the engraved wording below her name, and wrote down two numbers. “That’s my cell and my landline.”
Of course she’d have backup communication in a landline. He stuck her card in his inner pocket, then took her hand and squeezed. “Good meeting you.”
“Yes.” She returned the pressure and slipped a ready ten from her purse. He intercepted her hand.
“I’ll get it.”
“Thank you, Jackson Zachary Slade.”
The first time in a long time—maybe ever—that he’d liked hearing his full name. “Call me Zach.”
She dipped her head. “Zach. Later.”
“Later.” He took his time pulling out a twenty and tossing it on the table, watching her nicely rounded hips sway in her slim skirt as she strode outside and to the busy sidewalk. He blinked, since there seemed to be a smudge to his sight now and again when he took in the full sight of her.
Crows cawed.
No! Zach tensed. Saw five birds rise from the iron railing separating the restaurant tables from the walkway. How had he missed them? But his breath released slowly. Five for silver. That could mean a lot of things, but not sorrow or death or secrets.
His phone sounded again, the anonymous buzz of an unknown caller. The readout showed
Rickman Security and Investigations
.
“Slade,” he said.
“I’ve got a job for you. Interested?”
Silver—money, payment. “Yeah.” He guessed so.
“If you’re still in Denver, come on back to my offices and I’ll brief you and introduce you to our client.”
Zach’s heart gave a bump of anticipation. He turned and walked from the restaurant, looked up at the skyscraper where Tony Rickman had his offices. “I’ll be right there.”
“See you soon.” Rickman clicked off.
A deep breath brought city heat and smells, different than the Montana county he’d served for three years. He swallowed away the sadness at Lauren and Larry, found himself murmuring a little prayer his grandmother had taught him for their souls.
Change wasn’t always good, but always happened.
SEVEN
T HE REAL ESTATE agent opened the door of the cab and Clare slid out, nearly shivering with cold. Enzo had accompanied her and the driver had his air-conditioning running hard. She paid the fare and added an eighteen percent tip, and the cab zoomed off.
Arlene, young and Hispanic with a huge smile and incredible energy, chattered about the landscaping of the first house, the curb appeal. At first glance Clare liked the looks of the house, but she admitted to herself that she wanted more charm in a home. Especially since she now lived in a small rectangular structure. She and Enzo followed Arlene through the house. Despite everything, Clare wasn’t about to make a quick decision. She intended
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