Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
He wanted to tell Max to cut it out, but he had a point. Was it different? In this case, Elisa was far more capable of dealing with the situation than he was. She was trained. She was careful. What would he do for Elisa beyond stepping in front of a bullet to save her?
He would be pissed if he didn’t get that chance. He understood Max, but how could he reconcile the risk?
Maybe he could reconcile it by putting himself in her shoes. How would he genuinely feel if she broke up with him to protect him? “I would wonder why she didn’t trust me enough to let me stand beside her. I would wonder why we weren’t strong enough to face the problems together.”
“And that is how you get out of Baby Flanders cutting you in half with laser eyes.” Max nodded approvingly. “Relax. Everyone in town knows to watch out for you. The festival’s over and the tourists are heading home for the holidays. It’s quiet here from Christmas to New Year’s. We all come together and have a big party, but it’s townspeople only. In a day or two, a stranger will stand out like a sore thumb, and it will be easy to keep an eye on them. Let the sheriff’s office do its thing, and we’ll figure it out before too long. We always do. Say, how do you feel about a couple of days in Mel’s bunker?”
Why was everyone trying to get him in the bunker? “No.”
But a lot of what Max had said made sense. The tourist season would slow down at Christmas. Despite the fact that they could probably make a lot of money, the lodge closed for ten days between Christmas and New Year’s so the workers could go home to their families. Bliss would become a safe, happy bubble. It would be a good time.
It would be the last time with Van. Their holidays weren’t all that great. They usually consisted of getting a rotisserie chicken and some sides and a store-bought pie, and then they watched a movie. He’d thought this year would be different for them. This year they’d start understanding why the time was sacred to so many people.
“Don’t discount the bunker. Mel’s managed to get Netflix down in that thing. He claims someone from another plane of existence sends him intel through the recommendations,” Max continued. “And the whiskey he makes does the trick. He’s gotten better at it. No one’s gone missing in years.”
“I’m not moving into the bunker.” He was standing firm on that. He glanced over Van’s way, and it seemed like the staff was having a meeting at the bar or something. Callie and Zane and Micky were huddled together at the end where the bartenders set the drinks waiting to be picked up, and they all looked serious. “But maybe it would help if I wasn’t alone. I’ll trade you a couple of days work on your barn for helping me install bathroom tile.”
“Seriously?” Max looked excited at the prospect. “I would love that. I’ve got a whole door I need to replace, and Rye struggles with a hammer. I mean it. He always tries to take off his damn thumb.”
A man moved across Hale’s line of sight, heading toward the bathrooms. It wasn’t a surprising occurrence in a crowded restaurant, but Hale caught the sight of his back as he headed in. The man’s shoulders had that familiar slump to them. Was that the same man they’d saved this afternoon? The one he was almost sure was also on the security footage?
Hale stood. He couldn’t let the opportunity pass. “I’ll be right back.”
Max simply shrugged as Hale headed off to follow the man.
When he pressed through the door, the guy was there, finishing up at the urinal.
Hale stepped over to wash his hands, watching the guy in the mirror. He couldn’t be absolutely sure it was him. He turned and walked over to the sinks, and Hale noticed the logo on his belt. He wasn’t sure what LV stood for, but it was probably expensive.
This was the part where he should have talked to Van because Van would have walked in and tried to engage this man in friendly talk meant to soften him up before he asked the big questions.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Hale had no game.
The man’s head turned, and he looked startled to see him. “What the fuck kind of question is that? I don’t know who you are.”
“We met earlier today when you nearly died on the bunny slope of the lodge,” Hale pointed out.
The man touched his chest, rubbing it as though it ached. “Yeah, I’m not going to thank you for that. I think you bruised a rib, you moron. You’re lucky I don’t sue you. Now I’m leaving because you obviously have problems. I have no idea who you are except that you’re incompetent.”