Bernard DeLeo - Cold Blooded

“Same here.” Rachel handed her empty glass to the waitress.

“Maybe we should get some appetizers too,” Nick suggested, hearing a slight slur in Rachel’s words.

“No, we’ll be eating dinner soon anyway,” Rachel replied.

“I’ll have one more.” Tim drank the last of his Margarita and put his glass on the waitress’s tray.

“Since we are having dinner together after all, would you and Tim like to join us, Grace?”

“Sure, that sounds -”

“Don’t you and Tim have a party to go to?” Rachel asked innocently, while staring laser beams at Grace, who grinned and shook her head.

“No, Kimmy, Tim and I canceled out already. We’d love to have dinner with you two.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Rachel said without enthusiasm. “Nick, why did you decide on writing a series with an assassin as the main character?”

“I was always into action/adventure books and movies, even as a kid. I really liked the James Coburn movie series where he played a super suave secret agent named Flint. Have any of you seen the series? Flint was always two or three steps ahead and super slick. Using the same template, Diego formed in my head.”

“I’ll put those Coburn movies on my list of ones to see,” Grace said. “It’s neat hearing where a writer’s ideas come from first hand. We thought maybe you were basing the books on real life experience.”

“Funny you should say that.” Nick chuckled appropriately, pretending he thought Grace was making a joke instead of going on a fishing expedition. “I tell everyone who asks me that very thing. Usually I get laughs.”

The waitress arrived with their fresh drinks.

“I’m getting hungry,” Nick announced as he sensed Grace was going to continue with her questioning. “Why don’t we take our drinks into the dining area?”

No one objected, and the four were soon seated in the restaurant area. After ordering their dinners, Nick quickly warded off more questions with a stream of his own.

“How long have you all been friends?”

“About a year,” Grace answered. “Kim waitressed for us a couple times and we hit it off.”

“Are you and Ted married?”

“No, we work together,” Ted cut in before Grace could answer.

“Oh, where do you two work?” Nick launched ahead.

“We work together out of the Federal Courthouse in Sacramento,” Grace filled in quickly. “Luckily, our work doesn’t involve a commute thanks to the computer age.”

“Nice,” Nick said. “I don’t envy any of you three. I hate the heat.”

“How long are you planning to hang around Pleasanton?”

“Probably another day. I’ll make the trip up here again whenever a plot line requires it.”

“Then your assassin will be killing someone in the US this time?”

“Not that I don’t trust you implicitly, but I can’t divulge the plot of a work in progress,” Nick answered, patting Rachel’s hand.

“Of course,” Rachel nodded her head in understanding. “I don’t know much about -”

The waitress arrived with their orders. Dinner proceeded with little conversation other than small talk. Nick insisted on picking up the tab for meals and drinks.

“You had some very strong drinks,” Nick mentioned to Rachel as they left the restaurant area. “Did the food and coffee help, or would you like me to drive you home?”

“I’ll be fine.” Rachel smiled at Nick. “Thanks for the offer though. You can walk me to my car if you want.”

“I want. It was nice meeting both of you,” Nick told Grace and Tim as the four walked toward the Marriott’s front exit together. “When I get back up here, maybe we can do this again.”

“I’d like that,” Grace chirped in immediately. “Knowing a famous author is so cool.”

“You are such a groupie,” Tim needled his partner with over-enthusiastic zeal.

“Don’t let those two Margaritas you downed make your mouth write a check your ass can’t cash, Sparky,” Grace fired back, eliciting laughter as they cleared the entranceway.

Nick saw a glint in the darkness and jerked Rachel to the left by her arm as the glass behind them shattered. He snatched the befuddled Rachel off her feet, carrying her along until they were behind a car parked near the Marriott’s entrance. Knowing the shooter would not stop with one shot after missing Rachel, Nick pressed her to the ground. He then ran straight at Tim and Grace, who had dropped into shooting crouches with weapons drawn. He hit into Grace hard from the left and slightly behind, launching her against Tim as more shots passed where the two Marshalls had been.

“Get down by those cars to your right!” Nick ordered. “I’ll go back to Rachel. Watch for muzzle flashes straight out and to the left.”

“We almost shot you,” Grace gasped, but Nick was already streaking in a zigzag pattern back to Rachel.

Tim saw the muzzle flashes from what he guessed could have been hundreds of yards away. He pulled the struggling Grace toward cars parked on the right side of the entrance. Grace had her Glock 9mm trained on Nick as she allowed Tim to guide her. When she saw Nick shield Rachel, holding her pressed up against the parked car, Grace quickly snatched the cell-phone from her purse and pressed a number on speed dial.

“Code Red…I repeat…Code Red,” Grace stated calmly into the phone, knowing her ID would be flashed automatically. “I want everything you can launch in an outgoing radius from the Marriott Hotel at 5zero5niner, Hopyard Road, in Pleasanton. We are taking sniper fire. I repeat, we are taking sniper fire.”

“If that guy’s just a writer, I’m Bill Clinton,” Tim stated after Grace ended the call. They stayed behind the cover of parked cars on their side.

“Yeah, well at least he’s on our side.” Grace motioned with badge in hand for the people approaching the shattered entranceway to get back. “He was in Delta. It’s not like you forget all that. He did just save our lives.”

“Duly noted.”

“Are you okay?” Nick asked Rachel, turning so he could look into her eyes.

“I…I’m okay…I guess,” Rachel answered. She took stock of her physical condition, while trying to calm her heart rate down before the organ burst from its chest cavity position. “Did somebody try to shoot me?”

“Does anyone want you dead? A few of my readers have e-mailed me about pooling their money together for my demise, but -”

“How did you know?” Rachel broke in, ignoring Nick’s attempt at levity. “I’d have been dead if -”

“Hey…you two alright?” Grace called out, as the sound of sirens drew closer. “I think it’s over.”

“We’re okay. You’re probably right, but maybe we should stay where we are until some help arrives,” Nick suggested. “Hey, Grace, you civil servants are pretty well armed.”

Nick heard a stifled laugh from across the way.

“Tim and I are trying to figure out whether you paid for this just to impress Kimmy,” Grace shouted back, drawing laughter from Nick as the first approaching squad car screamed up in front of the Marriott entrance, joined by three others in short order.

Nick turned to see Rachel staring at him questioningly. He stopped laughing. “I hope you don’t think -”

“How did you know, Nick?”

“I saw a glint in the distance and decided looking like a fool would be preferable to one of us getting shot,” Nick answered truthfully, lowering his voice as the police sirens cut off. “So, I yanked you to the side. I figured if I was wrong, I could tell you I tripped.”

“That was fun.” Grace leaned down to give Rachel a hand up. “Nice moves for a writer, Nick.”