I shake my head. “You could say that,” I mutter, not picking up on the emphasis at first.
He orders his drink and we toast to the weekend. I ask about his plans and he tells me about a kayaking route he wants to try. I let the worries of work fade away. Even if I only get a few hours’ reprieve from worrying about weapons and evil billionaires, I’ll take it.
I finish my drink and Blaed offers to get me a refill. “Sure,” I give a hesitant answer.
“And maybe something to snack on?” he adds. Okay, this is quickly veering into date territory.But, is that so bad?I give a nod and he hands me the bar menu. Not much looks like it would fit with my gluten-free diet. I point to the flight of tacos and hope they use corn tortillas. Blaed raises an arm to flag down the bartender. While we wait for him to make his way over to us, Blaed turns the questions on me. “No big triathlons for you this weekend?”
I shrug. “Nah, I’ll catch the next one,” I say with a smile.
I’m about to make a comment about the race Ana and I worked last month when I remember that I told Blaed that I was traveling for work, but not where I had been. Or what my job was.
Blaed leans over the counter and places our order with the bartender. I run through every interaction we’ve had. I was never wearing anything with the FIRE logo. Neither was Ana. I never mentioned where I worked. What I do.So how does Blaed know?I start to sweat through my shirt, and I don’t think it is the temperature causing it.
The bar is too crowded, too loud. The latest pop hits are blaring through the speakers. I should feel safe in such a packed room, with all these people to potentially help. Instead, I’m anonymous, easily lost in the throng. If I scream for help, will anyone even notice?
I pull out my phone quickly.
Blaed glances over. “Uh-oh, am I boring you already?” he says into my ear, his hand grazing my shoulder.
Two minutes ago, I would have been thrilled by the idea of this incredibly handsome man who apparently has no dating or romantic bans touching me, flirting with me. Now I can’t help but feel boxed in. I give him what I have now named my Castillo smile, as in “I’m playing nice and flirting back with you but I’m totally not into it” grin.
This is not a date. This is a trap.I can feel it.
I make up a lie. “Just texting Ana; she wanted to make sure you didn’t blow me off.” Ana is probably asleep by now given the time difference.
“Tell her I say hi,” Blaed responds. “But that I’m happy she isn’t here,” he adds with a wink.
Damn, he is cute and sexy. And apparently, I was totally blinded by it. Honestly, I’m a little happy Ana isn’t here too. Because if my suspicions are correct, then I’m glad she is out of the line of danger.
I can’t ruminate on all the ways I’ve been thoughtless lately. I text the one person who I know will come and help me. Even if it means I look foolish to him for not being suspicious sooner.
Charlie Ross
S.O.S.
Danger.
We didn’t work out a codeword for this
situation, but I’m using the codeword.
Help!
I send along with a pin for my location.
And then I wait for Declan.
33
DECLAN
Boring-ass budget meetings are not my idea of a fun Friday evening. But this is exactly the dull distraction I need.
Since Wednesday I’ve been ignoring Charlie. Only interacting for necessary business. I shouldn’t have gone to check on her. The sooner I sever all friendly attachments, the sooner my heart and my head will accept that she is a distraction. She should be with someone who can date her, give her the relationship she deserves, and not put her in danger.
The word “danger” hangs in my mind. Because I still haven’t been able to place the man I saw at the bar in Copenhagen. Something about him irks me. He didn’t match any of the images Ian handed me.
Danger because if we don’t find those black-market weapons, they will find someone: innocent victims.
