Chapter Forty-Six
Bree
I flinched when the bar door opened and let in a burst of late afternoon sunshine. A group of men, co-workers, shuffled in and found their regular table near the dartboard. They argued over who owed for the first round, and then sent a shorter, middle-aged man up to the bar for the drinks.
“Well, hello there,” he said.
I gave him a wan smile and turned my barstool. Their table was directly between me and Nathan. The group of co-workers, in matching construction shirts, was harmless, but I was still nervous.
Ever since Nathan had mentioned the gunman in the dark suit, my pulse was jumping. And, now I’d found out that Nathan knew the man!
Maybe I was safer with the group of men separating us. Nathan sat in the back booth, eyes on the table. The newly-arrived regulars took one look at his grim mouth and tense body, and left him alone. If I was smart, I should have done the same.
Instead, I turned back to the bar and gripped my shot glass with both hands.
“How about a beer chaser?” The bartender started to pull out a draft beer before I could nod.
The co-workers loudly divided themselves into dart teams and started to play. Their actual skill was not in throwing darts, more than a few stuck far into the wall, but in trash-talking each other. The noise level in the bar jumped up a level and was more relaxing than the tense silence.
I took the beer the bartender gave me and sipped it. “Thanks. Was he really here with that man?”
The bartender’s lips formed a tight line. He didn’t want to talk but he couldn’t refrain from warning me. “I saw that man you came in with sitting at that table. They talked business for a long time.”
“Was he drunk? Hurt? Under duress?”
“Him?” The bartender glanced at Nathan’s formidable presence. “No. They were friendly, easy. Seemed like a straightforward deal.”
Nathan could not hear us over the dart-players’ insults. He was still staring at the table top, no doubt going over and over the few details he remembered. Was he as shocked as I was to learn he knew the man who had kidnapped me?
“Was that the first time you saw Nathan?” I asked.
The bartender sighed. “Yes. I don’t know anything else. Just that you might want to rethink the company you are keeping.”
“You don’t know him,” I said.
I thought my voice was lost in a loud argument over scoring the dart game, but the bartender shook his head.
“I know the type,” he said.
“He’s not pretending, you know?”
The bartender nodded. “Ex-military, hard as rock, no need to pretend. Or is it you he’s fooling?”
“No, no, you have it all wrong. He’s a good man. He just lost his memory. That’s why we’re here. We have to find out what happened and how he got all tangled up in this.”
“What if he’s the one who made the deal? What if it was his idea?” the bartender asked. “You should be more worried about yourself.”
“Why would Nathan make a deal with a cartel?” I asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Then stick with the facts. He knows Adrian Juarez. Sounds like Juarez isn’t too happy with him. Something must have gone wrong. Do you really want to be in the way when they meet again?” The bartender frowned across the bar at me.
“There’s gotta be another explanation. When Nathan’s memory comes back, it will all make sense,” I said.
“You sure he really lost it? Or maybe he’s just blocking out the bad stuff.” The bartender glared over at Nathan, who had not moved.
“I think he’s a good man.” I set the beer down and stood up.
The bartender caught my wrist, not hard or threatening, but firm. “You’re wrong.”
“You don’t know Nathan.” I wrenched my hand free. “He’s a good man; he’s in the Navy Seals. Was. . .”
I leaned back on my stool and felt my head spin. Probably just the tequila, I told myself. Everything was just fine. I’d grab Nathan, and we’d get something to eat and everything would be fine once we were on the road again.
“No one who’s friends with Adrian Juarez is a good man,” the bartender said.
“Maybe he was coerced. Blackmailed. If this Juarez guy lives up to his reputation, he could have had a gun on Nathan under the table the entire time they sat here.” I stuck my chin out and wanted to believe.
The bartender shook his head. “No gun. Just a deal and a handshake. Like I said, they looked friendly. It wasn’t that long ago.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I meant to ask myself that question but it came out in a ragged whisper.
My head spun. I had decided to help Nathan on a whim. He needed help and it hadn’t hurt that I found him attractive. It had been a long time since a man had caught my interest, and I liked how it made me feel: alive, in motion, excited.
I had done so many things to get away from that old feeling of being stuck. Stuck in the bottomed-out hole of all my bad choices. Nathan had been my escape, and I had taken it without a second thought.
Then we’d faked our own deaths. There was no going back now. I was stuck again.
“Finish your beer,” the bartender said. He leaned on the bar in front of me and made sure he had my full attention. “When you’re done, you’re going to turn around and go down the hallway. Take the door on the left, go through the kitchen, and leave. Bus station is a mile or so west of here. You can make it if a few minutes if you want to run.”
I sat down on the barstool and wasn’t sure I could get up again. I knew the bartender was trying to help, but his words had scared me more than anything I’d heard that afternoon. I was in danger. If I was smart, I would leave and start all over on my own.
I would have no one. Again. Janice and my few friends at the diner thought I was dead. My sister wouldn’t have spoken to me even if she knew I was alive.
I wouldn’t have Nathan. There would be no more sleepy mornings in motel beds. No more laughing over coffee. No more midnight runs for pizza. No more dizzying kisses and explosive falls into his arms.
I shook my head. “I can’t. I can’t leave.”
“He’s going to, sooner or later.” The bartender’s gaze hardened. “Don’t waste your life on someone like him. You think he needs you, but does he? Or are you just a nice little distraction for when he gets bored?”
I knew he was being harsh on purpose. He must have had sisters or daughters, because the bartender was angry that he couldn’t save me.
“I’m gonna charge you for the next drink. Or you can save your money for the bus,” the bartender said. He took my beer away and poured it out.
I put my hands on the bar, prepared to push off my stool and head down the hallway. Maybe I could think in the bathroom. I needed to get away from the dart-players’ boisterous talk and the bartender’s hard advice.
Then I felt Nathan’s gaze on my back.
I knew he was looking at me even before I turned around. It was like a magnified ray of sun, hot but not yet burning. If I stayed too long, I would feel my skin begin to singe.
When I stood up, I had no choice but to look at Nathan. His body pulled my eyes like a magnet. There was a question in his look but I just gave him a weak-handed wave. Then I turned toward the hallway and walked quickly.
I heard Nathan stand up but not his heavy footsteps behind me. For now, at least, I had the space I needed to think. The only problem was, my mind was no clearer than it had been at the noisy bar.
Stay or go?
I stared at myself in the mirror but she didn’t have an answer either. I leaned my forehead against the hard glass and felt the tears spill over onto my pale cheeks.