Bullseye: Seal. Carol Ericson

       Chapter Three

      As he washed his hands, Josh leaned into the mirror and practiced winking. He was pretty sure that was a move his slick buddy Slade would’ve tried, but Gina had looked at him like she was staring into the face of Ted Bundy.

      Maybe whoever sent that second round of drinks over noticed how badly he was tanking with Gina and was trying to help him out? That was a strange move for someone to make. If a friend of hers was at the bar, why not come by and introduce himself?

      Maybe the guy was there right now and having better luck with Gina than he was. Could she be any more uptight? Maybe Ariel and her bunch had sent the wrong SEAL out here to do the job.

      He yanked a couple of paper towels from the dispenser, dried his hands and tossed them into the trash before shoving out of the men’s room. He held the door as two men came barreling through.

      When he walked past the bar, nobody stopped him to claim responsibility for the drinks. He approached the table and sat down. Gina greeted him with a tight smile, her purse clutched in her lap, the second mojito untouched.

      “Everything okay?”

      “No, actually.” She folded over the corner of the damp napkin beneath her empty glass. “I just got a call from my mom, and my son isn’t feeling well. He woke up, and he’s asking for me. I’m sorry. I’m going to have to leave now.”

      He watched her lips as they formed the lie.

      “That’s too bad. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

      “Just a stomachache, but he needs his mom.”

      “Of course.”

      “I can leave some cash for my drink.”

      “I’ve got this one.” He stood up as she shot up from her chair. “Can I walk you back to your mother’s place?”

      “No, thanks. It’s not far and it’s still crowded outside. I’ll be fine.” She stuffed a white napkin into her purse. “W-we could try this again...if you want, later.”

      “Sure. I’ll make my list of requirements first—so we’ll have something to talk about next time.”

      The zinger seemed to go over her head. “Fine, yes. Call me.” She pivoted toward the front door and practically leaped over the tables to get there.

      As soon as she disappeared, Josh tossed some bills on the table and set Gina’s full glass on top of them, since her second mojito seemed to be missing its cocktail napkin.

      He’d seen a back door to the bar by the restrooms and made a beeline to that hallway. He slipped through the door and jogged toward the alley that led to the street. He flattened himself against the stucco wall and peered around the corner.

      As he expected, Gina had already passed the alley. Her white jeans stood out in the crowd. She stood out in the crowd.

      He joined the stream of people on the sidewalk, edging toward the curb, keeping cover. She glanced over her shoulder once or twice, but each time he stepped off the curb into the gutter and out of her view.

      She turned and crossed the street, and he jaywalked to get out of her line of sight. He edged around the corner and spotted her several feet ahead of him.

      Maybe she’d been telling the truth about her son. Her pale face and wide eyes when he’d returned to the table screamed scared rabbit, but maybe that’s how she looked when her son was sick. Hell, what did he know about having kids?

      Her mother’s pastel-colored condo loomed down the block, and he’d have to end his sleuthing once Gina went inside. He’d probably never find out the truth about why she ditched the date early. It was probably that wink of his.

      Then she passed the front entrance to the condo and his heart rate picked up. She wasn’t going home to check on her sick child?

      With one final twist of her head, Gina ducked into what looked like a bar almost a block down from her mother’s condo. Hello. Maybe she wanted to pick up some ginger ale for the kid’s stomach.

      He didn’t plan to blow his cover now by barging into the bar after her, so he cut down a small side street after the condo and headed to the alley running behind the buildings, including that bar.

      He strode down the alley toward the back of the establishment, hoping it had a rear entrance. As he reached a Dumpster, a vision in white jeans and a red top stepped into the alley from beneath the black-and-gold awning of the bar’s back door. A yellow light spilled over Gina’s form beneath the awning.

      Josh jerked back and ducked behind the Dumpster. Luckily, the light bulb that had been screwed in above the Dumpster lay in shards at his feet. Even if Gina glanced this way, he’d be nothing more than a shadow in the night.

      And glance, she did. Her head turned from side to side as she rested a hand on the purse pressed against the front of her body.

      Josh crouched and waited. She waited. They both waited for something...or more likely someone.

      A slight movement across the alley caught Josh’s attention and he melted against the wall, watching beneath half-shuttered lids.

      A man emerged from the darkness, creeping like a jungle cat in his all-black clothing, his focus pinned on Gina, still in the doorway of the bar.

      Josh’s muscles tensed and his finger twitched as if it were on a trigger. He remedied that by slipping his hand in his jacket pocket and gripping the gun nestled there.

      Through narrowed eyes, Josh followed the man’s silent approach toward Gina. Could she see him coming at her through the blackness of the alley? The only light past the condo building was shining right on Gina. Where were the other lights from the other businesses? Josh nudged a piece of broken bulb with the toe of his shoe. Was this light broken by design?

      A thrill of adrenaline percolated through his veins, and he hunched forward.

      Gina’s head jerked back. She’d spotted him—the predator.

      She threw out one hand and her voice carried in the enclosed space of the alley. “Where is he?”

      The man’s voice came back, too low-pitched for Josh to hear a response.

      “Where?” Gina tossed her long hair over one shoulder, giving a good impression of a woman in charge—but Josh picked up the tremor in the single word.

      Once again, Josh missed the guy’s response, but he pointed to the end of the alley.

      Did Gina know this man? Would she go off with him? Josh couldn’t allow that without knowing the identity of the man first. Somewhere in his job description for this assignment he’d read the word protect.

      Gina shuffled forward without much enthusiasm, or at least not enough for her companion, who took her arm.

      Wrong move, buddy. She shook him off and stepped back. “He can come here.”