Shit. Dizzie sucked in a breath. “Am I going to be kicked out?” she whispered.
“Oh no, hon.” The waitress looked horrified. “It’s not that. Though it probably wouldn’t hurt if you bought another cup of coffee.”
Eager to stay off the Jack’s radar, Dizzie nodded and slid her credit chip back into the reader.
“Let us know if you need any help.” The waitress gave her another searching look as she walked away.
“Okay.” Dizzie had the lingering sense the waitress was trying to give her a message, but she was completely missing it. As long as she wasn’t getting thrown out, she wouldn’t worry. Much.
Alone again, Dizzie researched corporate rivalries. All of them, not only Tremaine, in case the company tracked online searches. She didn’t want to raise any red flags. Some of the stories linked to earlier news about the bombing. She clicked through a handful of links, curious what was being said.
She scrolled through the news, then gasped. The Tremaine Corporation had finally released her photo. Thankfully the newsies had yet to connect it with the grainy images from Killian’s driveway.
That was a relief. If anyone linked Killian and Dizzie together, the backlash against him would be unimaginable. He didn’t deserve that. She knew his loyalty to Portia was absolute.
To keep her hands busy, she sipped her coffee again and gagged. It was worse cold. She choked it down, then switched to the new cup the waitress had dropped off.
With her new baseline for coffee, the second cup didn’t taste nearly as bad.
Dizzie tapped her fingers on the table. Stopped abruptly. Waiting sucked. She studied the room around her, swinging her foot to hide her fidgets. All dark wood and retro-biker décor, it smelled faintly of old beer and lemony soap. Dangerous, but not deadly. Comforting even, because day or night, the place never changed.
As she looked around, she tried not to make eye contact with anyone in the bar. She didn’t want any trouble.
“Haven’t seen you in here before.” A guy set his drink on her table and leaned on the high tabletop.
Her stomach dropped. So much for going unnoticed.
She took a minute to settle her nerves before responding. “Never been here before,” she lied.
“I come here all the time,” he said.
Dizzie barely held back a snort. Dressed the way he was, she highly doubted it.
His dark pants and white shirt marked him as a corporate drone. Not Razor Jack’s usual clientele. It was too lower class for middle managers and too rough for most office workers, unless they came on a dare or were slumming.
“That’s nice.” Dizzie kept her attention on her coffee. What would it take to make him go away?
He pulled out a bar stool and sat down next to her.
Ugh.She did not need this right now.
“Yeah, it’s nice. I’m nice.” His gaze crawled over her, giving her the creeps. “You lookrealnice.”
She choked back the urge to vomit. “Sorry, not interested.” She kept her tone as even as possible.
“What’s your name?” He leaned close enough she smelled the beer on his breath.
“Not interested.”
He laughed like Dizzie had said something funny, then waved the waitress over.
When she arrived at the table, it was Dizzie she addressed. “You all right, hon?”
“I’m fine. Just…” She searched for the right word, one that wouldn’t cause trouble. “A little crowded.”
“I’ll take another beer.” He slid his chip into the reader and selected one of the most expensive beers.
Crap.
