"I’ll let her know. Thanks."
She turned on her heels and strolled toward the hostess station, her hips swaying as if he hadn’t shot her down at least half a dozen times in the last three days.
It had been a long time since he’d had a girlfriend. His work had been his life until Finch had decided to fire him under false pretenses. Gideon still hadn’t quite wrapped his brain around that one. But Finch would soon take notice when Gideon destroyed what he’d built from the ground up.
He pulled his laptop closer and brought up the encrypted messaging app. He’d been looking for Hopper for a little over a month. He owed her an apology for disappearing, but now he couldn't find her anywhere.
Of course, he hadn’t dared show up anywhere as MacGyver. He couldn’t risk anyone knowing he was online. He’d covertly fed the rumor mills hints that he’d become a recluse. And while it wasn’t too far from the truth, it was something he’d never thought possible. While he might not have ever been a full-on extrovert and often enjoyed time in quiet contemplation or chasing adrenaline alone, he did like being around people. No matter how exhausting they could be.
And Hopper, whatever her real name was, had been someone he’d wanted to get to know.
He logged back into the dark web as Flatline. A fitting name for someone who’d spent his life on the grid, not living off it. He peeked in the spaces Felicity tended to hang out, but she wasn’t there. Hadn’t seen her since yesterday, but that wasn’t totally uncommon for her. Completely unpredictable, and yet, he could see patterns—especially in her speech.
They reminded him of Hopper, which was probably why he’d gone looking for her so often.
Or maybe because for the first time since his parents died, he was lonely. He hated that sensation. Especially now, because every time he entered a building, he couldn't wait to get out. Even this quaint little diner. After about thirty minutes indoors, he got twitchy. It was like the walls were closing and he'd be trapped inside with no way out.
The front door opened, and Praline scurried to the entrance. She greeted two men who gave a full sweep gaze. At least, that’s what he called people who walked into a space and glanced around as if they were memorizing every detail. He used to do the same thing when he’d been in the military, and it had been a hard habit to break.
But an easy one to pick back up.
Praline sat the men in the booth near the front door. She smiled and twirled her finger in her hair swaying her hips like she did whenever she approached a man. It had to be hard living out here in the middle of nowhere.
Gideon had been a city boy. He’d grown up on the streets of Vancouver. Back then, he liked the clatter and energy. He liked the way it settled his mind. As if the white noise of the constant flow of people buzzing around pushed out everything else that cluttered his mind. Pushed out everything that made it impossible to sleep or focus on anything other than work.
Now, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to go back. The silence had created its own white noise, and it settled the parts of him that had been humming at the wrong frequency.
He leaned back, watching Praline as she rested her hand delicately on the side of her neck. The man closest to the door was clearly her new mark.
Poor bastard.
They wore plaid over base layers and work boots with real mud on them.
The mud might be genuine, but he wasn't sure much else about them was.
He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about them screamed pretense. And that made Gideon antsy.
Another sensation he’d never grown accustomed to but had now become a way of life. When he’d entered the Royal Military College, he knew he didn’t fit in, and that was fine. He did what he had to do for his degree, then spent five years serving his country. He’d been lucky. In a world that he struggled to understand, he got to do what he loved the most.
Now, he’d never been so grateful for all the other training the military had ingrained, not just in his mind, but in his body.
He continued to study Praline and her new customers. The mud might be real, but the clothes were too clean. Too crisp. And both men sat too rigidly while trying to appear casual.
The taller one let his gaze move across the room, and when it landed on Gideon, he nodded.
Gideon did the only thing that made sense. He nodded back, then he closed his laptop and tucked it into his bag.
Time to leave.
But first, he scarfed down the last of his eggs and finished his coffee because he’d paid for them. Standing, he slung his backpack over one shoulder and walked to the hostess station.
"You leaving, sugar?" Praline handed him his bill.
"Yes ma’am." He handed enough cash to cover the meal with a five-dollar tip. That was plenty. Maybe too much.
Canadian guilt.
"Why, thank you." She smiled. "One second." She turned and opened the cupboard that housed the baked goods. She put something in a small baggie. "A little something to enjoy after lunch." She moved out from the station and tucked it into his pack.
