Bernard DeLeo - Cold Blooded

“Oh… I sure will,” Denise stood up and walked quickly away, waving the paper in front of two bored looking preteen girls which Nick figured were hers.

“You’re a writer?” Rachel glanced around at her area tables. “Oh crap…I mean…I’ll be back with your food.”

Nick watched Rachel go into hyper-drive as she caught up with her orders and drink refills. She brought his food ten minutes later.

“Here you are.”

“Thank you.”

Rachel started to walk away, but turned again.

“Are you a writer?”

“Yes. I write creepy killer novels,” Nick smiled up at Rachel. “I don’t normally get asked for an autograph except when I do book signings.”

“I saw you in here a couple weeks ago.” Rachel remembered the lean-faced man with the butch cut dark hair, smiling up from a table she passed almost as if he knew her. She had watched Nick, meeting his gaze several times before he left. There was something about him-maybe the dark eyes. “Do you live in the area?”

“No, I live down in Pacific Grove, near Monterrey.”

“Wow, it’s beautiful there. I…” Rachel glanced around, seeing the lunchtime crowd had thinned considerably and the tables in her area were not being filled. She hesitated for a moment before making a decision. “Listen. Mr. McCarty, I have a break coming, and…well…ah…”

“Would you like to join me?”

“Can I?”

“Sure, but it’s Nick when you sit down, okay?”

“Of course.”

She walked up front and spoke to her assistant manager. The man nodded in agreement. Rachel returned to Nick’s table and sat down where Denise had sat earlier.

“I don’t normally do this, but…”

“I’m honored,” Nick cut in gently, eating a forkful of salad.

Rachel laughed. “You’re kind of a smartass, aren’t you?”

“Guilty.”

“What are you doing visiting this furnace, instead of enjoying the ocean coolness, Nick?”

“I’m on a field trip, researching the area for a part in my next book.”

“You’re not going to put Applebee’s in it, are you?”

“Yeah, I am, and you in some form, along with a host of other details.”

“Me? In your book? I…”

“Not you in person, but possibly a waitress who takes breaks with her customers.”

Rachel giggled. She looked away from Nick. Rachel remembered how happy she’d been upon hearing the news which her contact with the US Marshalls had delivered a week ago: Hayden Tanus was dead. The possibility of returning to her old life in New York had been breathtaking. Now, sitting opposite Nick, it didn’t feel as exciting. Rachel shook her head. He’s a stranger. What the hell’s wrong with you, girl ?

“You look like something stung you.”

“It’s…it’s just that I…received some good news last week about maybe returning home.”

“Where’s home?” Seeing Rachel hesitate, Nick quickly added, “No need to say. I was making small talk.”

“No, it’s all right,” Rachel smiled, meeting Nick’s eyes again. “I don’t want to talk about it until I have an actual chance to do it.”

“It sounds like you’ve already decided.” Nick kept his voice carefully neutral, but his voice was the only thing in neutral. “Well, I better get moving.”

Suddenly, seeing Nick walk out was the last thing on Earth Rachel wanted. She reached over to take his hand as he started to stand.

“Wait, Nick, do you have to go back tonight?”

“I have a room at the Marriott in Pleasanton. I had planned to stay over.”

“Great, I live close to there. Why don’t we have dinner so we could talk some more?”

“I’d like that. I have to warn you though. I’m not as funny when you’ve been around me more than fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll take the chance. We’ll meet at the Marriott and have a drink together. If you’re still funny after the first drink, we can have dinner. Deal?”

“Deal.”

As Rachel walked out to the parking lot she spotted the familiar black Lincoln next to her Honda. Anxiety made her breath come in short gasps, amplified by the discomforting sweat from leaving Applebee’s air conditioned building into the Livermore, California heat. Rachel opened the Lincoln’s passenger side door and slipped quickly inside, thankful they had the air conditioning going. She took a deep breath and gave the couple in front a tired wave.

“Is it still good news, or not?”

“We’re in gathering mode back east but it looks good,” the brunette in the driver’s seat said. “Tanus was the only one you could help us with. We suspect Tanus had the whole operation on his shoulders. We’re hoping his import/export network will be falling apart, instead of someone jumping right into his shoes. Our overseas contacts are already moving on his holdings there. You may be home free, but I’m not sure going home to New York right away would be a good idea.”

“Tim said -”

“Yeah, I know what Tim said.” The woman interrupted Rachel as she skewered the man with dark hair on her right with a grim look. “Want to take it from here, Tim?”

“Sorry, I made a slight jump in logic” Tim acknowledged. He looked back at Rachel. “Grace pointed out the probability of trouble if you popped up in New York all of a sudden. Who was the boyfriend?”

“What boy… oh… you mean the guy I sat with on break. His name’s Nick McCarty. He’s some kind of writer doing -”

“Shit! Are you kidding me?” Grace exclaimed. She looked over at her partner. “Do you remember the book I gave you to read titled Diego’s Way ?”

“Yeah, the assassin for hire,” Tim replied. “McCarty must be loaded. How many bestsellers did you tell me he had?”

“Eleven so far, all about the same badass killer,” Grace explained excitedly to Rachel. “He lives down near Monterrey. What’s McCarty doing up here?”

“Nick told me he’s researching the area for his next book, using Pleasanton as one of the locales. He’s staying at the Marriott there.”

“Oh it’s Nick already. Gee, that’s cozy,” Tim said. “So is the fact that you only live a couple blocks from there, Kim.”

“By the way, is there any chance of losing the Kim Hunnicutt moniker?”

Grace nodded. “That may be doable. We should know more in two weeks. So, do you have something going on with Nick, Kimmy?”

Rachel growled, evoking laughter in the front. Grace’s continual banter from their first meeting had put Rachel at ease in a horrid situation. Although professional in all aspects relating to her client, Grace used her jokingly blunt persona to make a connection with people she handled in the program, and to extract bits of information vital to doing her job. Having witnessed the many verbal sparring matches between Grace and Tim, Rachel could tell Grace’s manner was no affectation.

“You know I hate that name.”

“Yeah… What’s your point?” Grace needled her a little more. “You’ve been in the program nearly a year and this is the first social meeting we’ve seen you have.”

“Being afraid for my life has that effect on me,” Rachel retorted. “For the first six months I thought any guy who looked at me was a potential killer. When Nick looked at me…I…it seemed like he knew me.”

“Writers are like that,” Grace stated as if she were an expert. “Did you initiate the interest?”

“A woman came up and asked for his autograph when I brought him an iced tea. I guess I did come on kind of strong after that.”

“I don’t blame you,” Grace said. “Spill it. Are you going on a date or what?”