wood building, they stepped inside, the door brushing against a bell hanging over it. Every eye in the room turned to them. Connor appeared not to notice, though she knew otherwise. Kate’s nerves jangled and heat fanned up her back. Her boots stuck to the floor as they walked.
Connor took a seat at the bar, his back to the wall. Nailed in the center of the dartboard posted on the wall was a picture of el presidente, his face pocked with dart punctures. The people of the town weren’t hiding whom they supported, though Kate would be careful not to openly take anyone’s side. El presidente could have moles planted everywhere, and she and Connor didn’t want to invite attention.
Kate sat next to Connor and ignored the stickiness of the seat. She’d probably have to burn these clothes after this trip and she wouldn’t worry about cleanliness now.
They ordered from a whiteboard posted behind the bar where two options were scrawled: enchiladas spicy and enchiladas fire. Kate chose the first and Connor the latter. With a side of beer, Connor seemed as though he was perfectly relaxed on the hard stool, his back propped against a wall that Kate wouldn’t have touched. Everything in the bar looked smeared with grease, booze or sweat.
“Enjoying your food?” Connor asked.
Though it was greasier than she would have preferred, she was hungry. “It’s good.” Her voice carried and she had no intention of insulting the owner. She reached to her side to check the time on her phone and frowned when she remembered Connor had made her throw away everything.
“Missing it?” Connor asked.
Not as much as she would have expected. It provided security in knowing help was a phone call away. Now help was next to her in the form of a good-looking, but slightly crabby, operative. “Habit. It’s useful.”
“I don’t know how you can stand to be plugged in all day. I see people staring at those things like it’s their whole world. What about interacting with the people around you?”
He was one to talk. “The man who lives like a hermit has a criticism about socializing electronically?” Kate asked.
He shrugged. “Carrying those things around and staring at them will get you killed. You’ve got to be aware of what’s happening around you.”
No sympathy, then, from him. Her email and text messages would have to wait until they found Aiden. Would her boss have tried to contact her to let her know she was fired? She pressed away the anxiety that threatened to wrap around her. What difference did it make to read an email or listen to a voice mail? Her career with Sphere was over. Period.
The door to the bar opened and a man strolled in. He wore a black bandanna around his heavily tattooed neck. Her instincts told her he was dangerous and Kate watched him from the corner of her eye. After looking around the room, the man strutted to the bar and leaned over it. “How much?” he asked in a low voice, his mouth close to her ear.
Kate turned to him in surprise. He had a snake tattoo that ran from his neck, disappeared under his black sleeveless T-shirt and reappeared on both arms. “The lunch? It was six—”
“No,” the man said, a faint hint of indignation crossing his face. “How much for an hour with you?”
Kate stared for a long moment before she processed his question. She waited for Connor to say something and glanced at him. He had an amused look on his face, but he hadn’t moved to interfere.
“I am not for sale,” she said, the words coming out in a stutter. Did she look like a prostitute? The clothes she had purchased in town and had changed into weren’t anything close to advertising sex. They were men’s clothes.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” the Snake Man said. He ran his finger along her hand.
Kate snatched her hand away. Worth her while? There wasn’t enough money in the world to make her sell herself to someone. She narrowed her gaze and lifted her chin. “I am not for sale,”
Connor took a seat at the bar, his back to the wall. Nailed in the center of the dartboard posted on the wall was a picture of el presidente, his face pocked with dart punctures. The people of the town weren’t hiding whom they supported, though Kate would be careful not to openly take anyone’s side. El presidente could have moles planted everywhere, and she and Connor didn’t want to invite attention.
Kate sat next to Connor and ignored the stickiness of the seat. She’d probably have to burn these clothes after this trip and she wouldn’t worry about cleanliness now.
They ordered from a whiteboard posted behind the bar where two options were scrawled: enchiladas spicy and enchiladas fire. Kate chose the first and Connor the latter. With a side of beer, Connor seemed as though he was perfectly relaxed on the hard stool, his back propped against a wall that Kate wouldn’t have touched. Everything in the bar looked smeared with grease, booze or sweat.
“Enjoying your food?” Connor asked.
Though it was greasier than she would have preferred, she was hungry. “It’s good.” Her voice carried and she had no intention of insulting the owner. She reached to her side to check the time on her phone and frowned when she remembered Connor had made her throw away everything.
“Missing it?” Connor asked.
Not as much as she would have expected. It provided security in knowing help was a phone call away. Now help was next to her in the form of a good-looking, but slightly crabby, operative. “Habit. It’s useful.”
“I don’t know how you can stand to be plugged in all day. I see people staring at those things like it’s their whole world. What about interacting with the people around you?”
He was one to talk. “The man who lives like a hermit has a criticism about socializing electronically?” Kate asked.
He shrugged. “Carrying those things around and staring at them will get you killed. You’ve got to be aware of what’s happening around you.”
No sympathy, then, from him. Her email and text messages would have to wait until they found Aiden. Would her boss have tried to contact her to let her know she was fired? She pressed away the anxiety that threatened to wrap around her. What difference did it make to read an email or listen to a voice mail? Her career with Sphere was over. Period.
The door to the bar opened and a man strolled in. He wore a black bandanna around his heavily tattooed neck. Her instincts told her he was dangerous and Kate watched him from the corner of her eye. After looking around the room, the man strutted to the bar and leaned over it. “How much?” he asked in a low voice, his mouth close to her ear.
Kate turned to him in surprise. He had a snake tattoo that ran from his neck, disappeared under his black sleeveless T-shirt and reappeared on both arms. “The lunch? It was six—”
“No,” the man said, a faint hint of indignation crossing his face. “How much for an hour with you?”
Kate stared for a long moment before she processed his question. She waited for Connor to say something and glanced at him. He had an amused look on his face, but he hadn’t moved to interfere.
“I am not for sale,” she said, the words coming out in a stutter. Did she look like a prostitute? The clothes she had purchased in town and had changed into weren’t anything close to advertising sex. They were men’s clothes.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” the Snake Man said. He ran his finger along her hand.
Kate snatched her hand away. Worth her while? There wasn’t enough money in the world to make her sell herself to someone. She narrowed her gaze and lifted her chin. “I am not for sale,”
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