Daphne Charlene nodded. “That’s him, only he didn’t look that good.”
Raphael took a deep breath. Edgar was a bounty hunter. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine that he would have information and insight as to the whereabouts of Indigo Smith. Perhaps he’d been in the cadre of outside help Indigo had used to escape the gulag.
Diesel said, “Is there anything else you can tell us about him?”
She looked to the ceiling as she thought and her face lit up. “Oh, one other thing. When we went into the storage room to get the kitten, he noticed a fifty-pound bag of rice I didn’t even remember ordering. He asked how much it was, so I threw that in for free if he agreed to take the kitten. He did.”
Raphael’s brain stilled to consider the new information. Edgar being a shifter was so shocking he had difficulty coming to terms with the contradiction of this new knowledge combined with his years’ long, but distant association with the brash, unkempt bounty hunter.
Edgar was obnoxiously boastful on a good day. On a bad day, he was impossible to be around. If he could shift into the countenance of other beings, he’d hidden that exceptional talent very well, presenting a wholly different personality in public.
A café employee called out that Daphne Charlene was needed in the kitchen, breaking Raphael’s solemn realization.
Daphne Charlene looked annoyed, but seemed to sense the conversation was over. She gave Wyatt a bold head-to-toe stare as she backed away as if reluctant to remove herself from his presence, finally scuttling out of the café’s dining room and through a door marked “employees only.”
That wouldn’t stop him from going after her if he needed to, but Raphael was thinking through a whole different set of facts. Was Edgar a rare shifter? He couldn’t imagine that, given what he knew about the man.
And more disturbing, how could Raphael have been blind to Edgar’s infatuation with Francine?
Francine tried to keep calm. The familiar man seated himself on the edge of the bed beside her. She quickly stood, fighting not to wobble. She didn’t want him to help her stand, but also didn’t want to share such an intimate space with anyone but Raphael. She moved to flatten herself against the wall beside the bathroom door.
She kept her eyes averted from his as he continued to stare at her with a manic zeal she found disconcerting.
“Where are we?” she asked.
He glanced around the small space and clearly found it substandard, because a small frown surfaced. “Oh, don’t worry. This place is just temporary. It was the best I could find until I acquire a hidden treasure and capture a very special bounty. Then I’ll have enough credits so we can travel the galaxy forever in grand style.”
Ah, yes. He’s a bounty hunter, too.She remembered that much. She also remembered she didn’t like this man. Hadn’t liked him from the second she laid eyes on him.
He turned his zealous focus back on Francine. She looked away, not wanting to encourage him.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “I’ve made us some food.” He lifted his arm, gesturing to the door he’d just come through. He’d left it ajar.
Francine wasn’t about to eat anything prepared, even if she starved herself. But she nodded, keeping her eyes lowered to the floor.Just go along until you can escape.She moved to the open door, keeping track of where he was behind her.
“Your hair came out very nice. I love the blond. That’s the way you should keep it,” he said.
She put a hand to her damp hair. “Why did you change my hair back to this color?”
“Because your blond hair is beautiful. The red was a hideous mistake.” He came alongside her, staring at her head with satisfaction. He reached up to touch her hair, but she dodged him and moved toward the door.
Raphael liked her red hair, but she didn’t voice that. She kept moving.
They exited the small bedroom and entered a larger room. It looked like a cabin. Beyond the two windows she saw forest thick with trees. If she ran out the door next to one of the windows, she likely wouldn’t make it very far before the man caught her.
She’d save that move for later, when she could be assured the door was unlocked and unbarred. Two metal brackets bolted to the door held a wide plank of sturdy wood nestled securely in place. If the door was the only way out, she wasn’t certain she could lift the wood plank without help.
The window closest to the door was a simple, single-paned plate glass window, perhaps four feet tall by two or three feet wide. However, the glass looked like it was hand poured. It was wavy in places, obscured in patches and slightly yellowed. Was it really old? Or perhaps someone had tried to apply tinting to curb the sunlight streaming inside. She didn’t see that it was needed, as the room was dank and dim.
To the left was a small wooden table set with two plates and utensils along with two chairs across from each other. It was next to the small kitchen. On the right was a small living room with a sofa and recliner in front of a stone fireplace that stretched high to the A-frame ceiling.
The man closed the door to the bedroom, brushing her sleeve as he passed by to pull out a chair for her. It took all she had not to flinch when they came into contact. Perhaps he was simply being gentlemanly, but she remained wary. She’d been drugged and brought to a strange place by someone who was as good as a stranger to be cautious of, as far as she was concerned.
“Have a seat.” He gestured for her to take the chair.
Francine weighed her options and decided to play along, for now. She’d be looking for the best time to escape.
